Scribblings on Whatever

Is There Hope for Our Educational System?

5/31/2023

I’ve been fussing for a long time about the decline of the American educational system. My rampage began the first time a cashier had no clue how to give correct change without the cash register telling her how much to give. What really got me ticked off was when her manager couldn’t figure it out either.

I patiently stepped in and coached them. “All you have to do is count up from what I owe you, $3.42 to the amount I gave you, $5.00. Start with the 42 cents and get three pennies – 43, 44, 45. Then a nickel will bring it up to 50 cents and two quarters will make four dollars, and another single with bring it up to $5.00.” Heaven help us if I’d given her $5.02!

What hurts me the most is seeing someone who struggles with reading. Not being able to figure out an unrecognizable word makes understanding the text so difficult. About a year ago, I wrote an article about the current method, originally called three-cueing but now referred to as Reading Recovery, used in public schools to teach reading. Instead of being taught to sound out words, students are supposed to pick up cues from the accompanying picture. Unfortunately, after first grade, the pictures get few and far between. Then it's up to the child to predict (guess) what the word could be from how it is used in the text. If the sentences make sense, the reader must be getting the words right, or right enough.

It Doesn’t Work, People! Its disastrous results have been proven countless times in studies and statistics. According to the National Assessment of Educational Progress, 32 percent of fourth-graders and 24 percent of eighth-graders aren't reading at a basic level. Fewer than 40 percent are proficient or advanced. But for some reason, this teaching method is still accepted.

I heard a report on NPR (National Public Radio) that rekindled my pet peeve, yet gave hope that reading instruction may go back to actually teaching kids how to read. School districts across the country are dropping Reading Recovery and taking a more science-based approach that focuses on the sounds of letters and how to figure out what the mystery word is.

My faith has been restored. Hopefully, more school systems will switch. Face it, all learning is centered on reading. With the gradual re-direction to phonics, maybe students will improve in other subjects, and teachers will be encouraged to teach more than just the test.

Check out this NPR interview from last December. Hopefully, it’ll make you think seriously about this issue.

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From A Toy to A Catalyst for Change

5/17/2023

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The Evolution of a Slingshot was written by my late husband, John Dean Williamsen, after he had learned to read again in the aftermath of two strokes. This was a story he had been telling me about for years. I kept telling him to write it down. Enthralled by his success at learning to read again, he sat down and began to write. I was thrilled to see how well he did. As an editor, I only had to make the usual punctuation changes.

Although this is described as a coming-of-age novel, it revolves around a murder. I hope you enjoy it as much as those who’ve read it have.

The Book Blurb

The Evolution of a Slingshot is a story of a boy whose life is often as raw and unfettered as the times. He lives in a world of tarpaper shacks and basement homes, of dusty roads and outhouses, of poverty and optimism, of the American Dream and justice snubbed.

In the late 1940s, while the country is recovering from the Great Depression and World War II, an eleven-year-old boy is simply trying to survive his small-town world in Illinois. The great tragedy in his life has been the mysterious murder of his father, which has turned his world upside-down. The fear that grows out of his loss leads him to cling to his brother, Ray, as a substitute father figure. Unfortunately, Ray is only four years older, and while seeking retribution for his father’s death, he is also struggling with his family’s expectations of his filling his father’s shoes.

After watching the way Ray handles the situation when Jake is attacked on his paper route, Jake recognizes how self-destructive his brother’s anger can be, and he is afraid for him. This strengthens Jake’s resolve to handle his problems himself. The slingshot, which was once a toy to Jake, has now become his only means of defense. His life continues to offer him opportunities to choose how to deal with confrontations and the loss of others close to him.

His struggle to make the right choices transforms his relationship with his slingshot. It is this evolving relationship that mirrors the changes in Jake’s inner psychology—the changes which mold his personality and shape his ideas of right and wrong. When he finds himself at the decisive moment where he has the means to avenge the wrongs his family has suffered, what will his decision be? His future now hinges on the choices he makes.

https://www.amazon.com/Evolution-Slingshot-Toy-Catalyst-Change/dp/1479302503
https://www.amazon.com/Evolution-Slingshot-Toy-Catalyst-Change-ebook/dp/B0099A2OAQ

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Kids Can Be Your Greatest Fan or Your Harshest Critic

5/3/2023

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I enjoy writing children’s books.

Why, I can’t really say. One person hinted it was the measure of my mental capabilities. She said I think like a kid. I’m still debating whether to take that as a compliment or an insult.

At first, I never thought of writing and publishing children’s stories. Making up silly tales began as a keep-the-kids-busy activity to save my sanity.

My initial attempt at creating a story occurred when I was a novice preschool teacher many years ago. Occasionally, I had to improvise when my scheduled activities didn’t last as long as planned, and a quick substitute was called for on the spot. Mildred, a purple cow who barked like a dog and swam like a duck, was the best my frazzled mind could come up with during one of those gaps.

Believe me, Mildred was a one-time deal. The kids were not impressed, and they let me know their disapproval. Their critiques ranged from blank stares to yawns to walking away. Luckily, Dr. Seuss came to my rescue with his Green Eggs and Ham. Another teacher had noticed my plight, and like magic, the book appeared on the floor beside me.

However, I was not the only failure that day. The teacher who rescued me had the bright idea of cooking some green scrambled eggs by adding a few drops of blue food coloring. Her experiment went okay until the squirt bottle accidentally dropped into the bowl of raw eggs, splashing its contents all over the table, chairs, and nearby arms, legs, and clothes. That was another disaster we never repeated. You talk about unhappy polka-dotted children and their parents, too! Oh my!

We learned from our mistakes. As time passed, my improvised stories improved, transforming my pint-sized critics into fans.

Story time became their favorite part of the day. I experimented with writing longer stories, which the kids thoroughly enjoyed. The children and I also authored stories together with the young artists doing the illustrations. The proud kids took their books home with them. Hmmm…I wonder if any still exist.

After getting married and moving to another state, my work with kids came to an end and so did the stories. Yet, the opportunity to write again presented itself when my husband and I developed health issues and had to give up our aviation business. The first Patchwork Dog and Calico Cat stories were written on a legal pad and stored in a desk drawer. I was too busy with my freelance newspaper work to do much with them then. Eventually, my work slowed down, and Patchy and Calico were rescued from the drawer.

Returning to the original question concerning why I do this, I write children’s books because that’s what I’m comfortable doing. I’m extremely fortunate to be able to write. It’s such a thrill to read my stories to kids and listen to their giggles as Patchy gets into one mess after another.

The greatest reward I hope for isn’t fame or fortune but seeing young’uns laughing and having fun while going on adventures with Patchy and Calico.

However, my primary goal is to spread the joy of reading. I want to provide books that encourage kids to keep reading for the rest of their lives.

Could there be anything better than that?

Patchwork Dog and Calico Cat - Book One

Print https://www.amazon.com/Patchwork-Dog-Calico-Greta-Burroughs/dp/1467989460/

Kindle & Kindle Unlimited
https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B006B9RSIQ/

Universal link http://viewbook.at/patchyandcalicocat1

SassyScribblers.com www.sassyscribblers.com/books-for-children.html

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The Reluctant Rebel

4/5/2023

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Many of you knew my husband, Robert Burroughs, as a friend on Facebook. Some of you knew him as Robert DeBurgh, the author of Riders of the Wind and Winds of Fate. Others knew him from his 50+ years in aviation or through his passion for classic motorcycles and cars.

However you came in contact with Bob, your first impression pegged him as being friendly, considerate, honest, giving, knowledgeable, and a multi-talented person. He was pretty transparent in showing the world what made him tick. But there were a few faces my husband revealed only to certain people, such as his artistic side. His paintings are amazing! Then there’s his poetry which opened his soul to reveal his deepest fears, loves, and feelings. More about that in a bit. First, we need a little more background.

As a professional pilot, he logged over 17,000 hours flying numerous types of airplanes, from Aeronca Champs to Boeing 747s. Bob’s quest for adventure landed him some interesting piloting gigs around the globe. Some jobs turned out to be a bit more exciting than advertised – like when he ‘accidentally’ became caught up in a military coup in the Dominican Republic or when his airplane became the target of surface-to-air missiles in Southwest Africa.

During the mid-1960s, the political situation in the Dominican Republic wasn’t very stable. Robert was working as a contract flight instructor at the air base in Santo Domingo when all hell broke loose. The air force needed experienced pilots and drafted Bob to serve as a major in the Dominican Air Force. He was young and daring and thought it was fun buzzing the harbor and the capital in his F-86. That is until he received a knock on his door at three o’clock in the morning. Two men wearing dark sunglasses and dressed in black suits strongly suggested he return to the USA the following day or else become a Dominican citizen … Fun over, he returned home.

A few years later, his best friend suggested they go to Southwest Africa (now Namibia) and fly BN2 Islanders for the country’s domestic airline. The lure of going to Africa outweighed their caution over the warnings of violence throughout the country. The SWAPOs (Southwest Africa People’s Organization) had been making significant gains in advocating for independence from South Africa.

Bob recalled never knowing when a group of fighters would emerge from cover and shoot at his airplane. He wasn’t worried about handguns and rifles since he could fly above the range of bullets. But when the SWAPOs acquired surface-to-air missiles, the strategy underwent a drastic modification – cruise at tree-top level so the guerillas wouldn’t have time to aim before the plane passed overhead. Unfortunately, that plan didn’t work all the time. Bob decided it was time to go home after viewing a passing missile up close and personal.

Dodging missiles tempered Bob’s pursuit of adventure, leading him to choose tamer international duties. The new methodology worked to his advantage. While training 747 flight engineers in South America, he had the privilege of traveling around the continent, meeting indigenous folks and learning their cultures, traditions, rituals, and love of the land.

This is where we get back to the poetry. The things he learned from the elders changed him and transformed his thinking and attitude. His eyes and mind were opened to see and understand that he was just a small part of the natural world.

After that experience, he wrote Changes. Below is an excerpt from that poem.

I have traveled the high plains and peaks of the Andes.
Seen the reed boats on Lake Titicaca in the summer
And the ruins of the Incas.
I have seen the herds of llama and the wild guanaco.
In the evenings, I rested in the huts and listened to the songs.
I spoke with the people,
And I was changed

I have climbed the Andean trails to the ruins of antiquity.
Seen the legacy of Cerro Alto and the mystery of Cerro Sechín
With its myriad tiny rooms.
I have seen the marvel of Machu Picchu and opened my mind to the spirits there.
In the dark of night, I heard the whispering voices of ages past.
I listened to the ghosts,
And I was changed

I have tramped the green forests and plains of the Pantanal.
Seen the rain moving in sheets across the round lakes and green marshes
Teeming with wildlife.
I have heard the call of birds, and the cough of the jaguar.
I have seen the traditions of the Indians, spoiled now by modern ways.
I spoke of old wisdoms in the night with the shamans, listened to their words,
And I was changed

I have looked down upon the emerald forests of the Mato Grosso.
Seen the mighty Amazon in her epic journey from the Andes to the sea,
World’s longest and most mysterious river.
I have seen where the Rio Negro joins the stream;
The waters flow side by side and do not mix.
I bathed in waters filled with fierce piranhas, anacondas, and graceful pink dolphins,
And I was changed

All this have I done. All this have I seen. All this have I learned.
But there is more to see, more to learn.
I have not traveled
The bottom of the sea nor the cold silent vacuum of space.
I have not spoken to the ones who have been to those places.
Where now shall my feet guide me? What more shall I learn?
And now, how shall I be changed?

Thank you for allowing me to share a part of Robert’s story and his poetry with you.

Blossoms in the Snow

Kindle and Kindle Unlimited
https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B092SXPNW5/

Universal link
http://viewbook.at/blossomsinthesnow

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Center Stage for All the World to See

3/15/2023

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The storyline for Center Stage came at a time in my life when I was in a reminiscent mood. You know what that’s like – thinking back over your childhood, young adult times, and later. With the young adult times, there are so many relationships to explore. It seems the offbeat ones hold fast in my memories.

There was one relationship that tested so many things about myself. This person was my polar opposite in so many ways. She was gregarious. I was shy. She was extravagant. I was prudent. She was flamboyant. I was modest, and the list goes on. So, you may ask: why were we friends at all?

Tough question. To some extent, I believe, I was living vicariously through her. I was able to be up close and personal with what it was like to express all those traits I didn’t see myself as having. I admit that being in a nightclub with her was nerve-wracking. I even threatened to leave her to find her own way home once when she was headed “toward the moon,” so to speak. She didn’t seem to have any safety valves whether she was being manic or depressed. Her balance seemed to be more toward the manic side of her disorder, which made for some bizarre experiences.

The one constant was that others always seemed to serve in the role of being her audience. I don’t believe she would ever have acknowledged this. She was aware of her prescribed condition, but I don’t believe she ever really connected her behavior to it. I didn’t have any hard feelings toward her. I simply had to walk away when the imbalance between us became untenable.

With all that said, at the time I wrote Center Stage I had not been in touch with her for years. I often wondered what happened to her. She was smart and had great promise. I just wondered if she was ever able to establish a balance within herself.

Spinning a Tale from a Memory Spark
April Saunders is a woman after the brass ring and willing to do whatever it takes to feel it within her grasp. In her quest to be center stage, she barely even notices the trail of victims she leaves in her wake. Eventually her husband and daughter join all the others left behind.
Now the tide has turned. She has been left behind. No power. No options. No family. No friends. No hope.

Then a mysterious and seemingly magical woman named Grace appears at her door. Despondent, April is so weak-willed at this point that she allows Grace to take charge, unaware that her life is about to take a turn that few ever get to experience. As she takes a preternatural journey into her past, will her ambition continue to rule her heart? Can there be salvation for one who has betrayed so many?

Is There Salvation?
If we all had the opportunity to revisit the trail of our life experiences, how would we feel? Would we do anything differently if we could? Would we try to atone, make amends? Would we become contemplative and view where we are now with an open mind?

I hope Center Stage will prompt readers to be willing to observe their pasts and grow from the experience. We all have those moments in our pasts when we wish we had acted differently. It’s important to open ourselves up to the lesson they offer and move forward in our lives. April faces this same dilemma in Center Stage. Will she make better choices?

Check It Out!

Read reviews for Center Stage at
https://www.dannyewilliamsen.com/center-stage.html and here on the Women's Fiction page. Of course, it's on Amazon. It is available in paperback and Kindle.

You can read more of Dannye's books, both fiction and nonfiction at the following sites:
https://www.amazon.com/Dannye-Williamsen/e/B004KEAFE8
http://www.SassyScribblers.com
http://www.DannyeWilliamsen.com

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Tackling the ITP Roller Coaster

3/1/2023

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April 2005.
"But I don't feel sick. So why do I have to stay here in the hospital?" I stubbornly asked the emergency room doctor, and he replied in an exasperated voice, "Because you are one sick chick. Your platelets are down to 2000. You are going upstairs to PCU and will stay there until I say you can go home. Your platelet levels are falling fast. Yesterday they were 11, this morning, they were 4, and now they are 2. Something needs to be done right now."

"What does that mean? I don't know what all those numbers mean," I whimpered, "and why do I have all these bruises and the red dots all over my legs?"

The doctor explained, "Your platelets should be over 140 to be in the normal range. Without platelets, your blood will not clot. The red dots, otherwise known as petechiae, and the bruises are due to having low platelets. Your blood is actually leaking through the walls of your capillaries and up through the pores in your skin, causing the red dots. With your platelets so low, you are in danger of hemorrhaging either internally or externally. It's a good thing you didn't wait any longer before you came to the hospital."

"Oh, Okay." That was the beginning of my struggle with Immune Thrombocytopenic Purpura. (Excerpt from Heartaches and Miracles)

*******

I didn't feel sick or have any pain, but there I was in a bed with nurses hovering over me. One was forcing partially thawed platelets into an IV tube. Another was inserting a second IV into my other arm. A big bottle of stuff was hanging close by, ready to be pumped into me. Meanwhile, a vampire disguised as a sweet little old lady must have drawn 50 vials of blood from my wrist.
I closed my eyes blocking out the frantic activity going on around me and fooled myself into believing that after a few tests, I'd be able to go home.

Nope, it wasn't that simple.

If I had known then what I know now, my introduction to ITP could've been less dramatic. If I'd only heeded the flashing neon lights going off in my brain and paid attention to the bells and whistles trying to get my attention.

The never-ending, persistent bleeding, terrible fatigue, bruises, and petechiae were my body's way of saying, "Hey, something's wrong. Fix me." Yet instead of listening and obeying, I'd buried my head in the sand, hoping the messages would go away.

I'd almost waited too late. I could have died that night. My platelets dropped to zero, and the steadily increasing stream of blood would've kept flowing until there wasn't anymore.

It still scares me to think about my near-death experience. At the time, I had no idea what was going on or that I was that close to dying. I'd never heard of ITP or ever dreamed something like that could happen to me.

The following years ushered in more new experiences I wasn't prepared for. Riding the ITP roller coaster of recovery and relapses took me for some loopy loops and through dark tunnels with a lot of ups and stomach-churning plunges into the unknown.

There is no cure for ITP, and at the time, there were no step-by-step treatment plans. So, every month was a new adventure. Will my period behave this month, or will I have another relapse? What do I have to do to get back to normal? Splenectomy, IVIg, prednisone, decadron, rituxan, vincristine – how many more treatments will I have to try before something keeps my platelet count consistent?

Sometimes the side effects from the treatments also took their toll on me: neuropathy from the vincristine, paranoia and panic attacks from decadron withdrawal, and cataracts from the prednisone.

To make a long story short, my advancing age brought with it the miracle we'd been looking for - menopause and finally, remission.

If I Could Have Known Then What I Know Now
Reflecting on all I learned from my experience with ITP, my number one wish was that I had known more about this disease before my being diagnosed. If I had been familiar with the classic warning signs, such as unexplained bruising, petechiae, fatigue, and excessive bleeding, I probably would've had blood work done long before I wound up in the hospital.

That's how Heartaches and Miracles came into being. I didn't want anyone else to go through the same experiences I had. I wanted to make others aware of ITP, so they would be proactive in getting any mysterious bruises looked at.

It became my mission to spread the word about ITP, to share my story, and let everyone know what ITP is and what it can do to a person.

In my memoir, I try to encourage those on the ITP roller coaster and let them know that remission is possible. It may take several tries, but the right treatment is out there. It takes determination, patience, and most of all, a positive attitude.

ITP is a battle. But knowing the ins and outs gives us an edge over the disorder. Hopefully, Heartaches and Miracles can give ITPers the knowledge they need to whip ITP's backside.

Print
https://www.amazon.com/Heartaches-Miracles-Struggle-Thrombocytopenic-Purpura/dp/1466217650/

Kindle and Kindle Unlimited
https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B005FYG7E4

Universal link
http://viewbook.at/heartachesandmiracles

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Circles of Freedom: a Race for Survival

2/15/2023

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It’s probably not a stretch for you to figure out what influenced the storyline of Circles of Freedom in 2018. After two years of bully tactics in the national political arena, behavior considered suitable for those serving in public office as well as those enlisted to their turn of mind presented the American people with a series of situations that promised to tear the idea of a civil society to shreds. It opened the narrative in America to horror; in other words, to actions intended to frighten, scare, or disgust people as is typical in bullying tactics. These engendered loathing among those who favored a civil society.

I was no different than others in being shocked by the rise of such violent negativity. Circles of Freedom was my way of establishing a safety valve for my own frustration and perhaps putting my two bits out there. Despite one’s political preferences, the storyline here is about people who stand strong in their belief in the democracy of America and are willing to step outside their comfort zones to protect it.

As authors, we all get feedback from persons who don’t appreciate the development of our characters. This happened to me when a reader jumped to conclusions about my female character as being weak after reading only a couple of chapters. In truth, she was simply in one of those crossroads in her life that can make one feel uncertain. This was all right with me because I believe in allowing my characters to develop psychologically. Life is a journey after all, learning from each experience. If you were already at the finish line early in life, where would be the fun in that?

So, What Is the Gist of the Story?
When Brandon Boehle creates the Circles of Freedom blogs to strike a blow for truth, he has no idea of the loss, the love, and, the chaos it will set in motion. When the dominoes start to topple, there's a race to survive for friend and foe alike.

Brandon never imagines that a mercenary hired by the President of the United States would be out to kill not only him, but his assistant Alise Winston and the professionals who are writing the blogs. What started out as a simple, though carefully safeguarded, effort to get the truth out there has put all of them in the crosshairs. He quickly realizes that his expectations of the United States government have been naïve.

The contract put out on Circles of Freedom turns out to be the least of their worries for themselves and the country. A nefarious plot is uncovered to overthrow the government, and the players believe themselves to be untouchable. Circumstances draw Brandon and Alise and all those closest to them into this dark plot. Their only hope lies in a twist of fate.

What Are People Saying?
"You truly have a gift, I'm so blessed that you are sharing it with me. I've got a feeling about this book."
"I got so involved in the story, (you did it again)! I can't put it down ... I have to keep reading to see what happens next."
""I love it!! The story is fast-paced and very well-written.”
"A must read, Dannye. Thought provoking, intense, and topical." (a former member of U.S. Foreign Service)

Where Can You Find It?
Circles of Freedom is available for purchase through Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Circles-Freedom-Dannye-Williamsen/dp/1719178305.
You can read reviews and learn more about my other works at the following sites: http://www.DannyeWilliamsen.com and https://www.SassyScribblers.com/thrillers.html/

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Following My Muse

2/1/2023

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I was thrilled when Gerald and the Wee People started getting good reviews. Folks told me they enjoyed the book. At the time, I was involved in several authors' groups on Facebook, and we did a lot of mutual sharing, blog hopping, reviews, and boosting each other's morale. I know; a lot of my writer friends left those great reviews just because we were friends instead of being totally objective and brutally honest.

However, some people seemed to enjoy the story and suggested turning Wee People into a series. I was willing to give it a shot and sat at the computer to begin the second book.

Nothing happened. My muse refused to cooperate.

At the time, many distractions kept me from concentrating on my writing, one of which was the possibility of purchasing another home. I had inherited some money, and we thought a new house would make a good investment. Plus, it was fun touring houses and imagining Bob and me making a fresh start. One afternoon, we looked at a small mobile home that did not impress me at all, but I fell in love with the name of the street – Bo-K Lane.

My muse loved it too, and the story started flowing. As soon as we were home, she lured me to my little cubby hole of an office, and the first chapter of House on Bo-Kay Lane wrote itself.

As I've said before, I'm a pantser. I cannot plot out or outline a story. Mainly because I have no idea what will happen from one chapter to the next. That's what makes writing so exciting – the thrill of discovering the twists and turns in the plot after I’ve written it. I recall reading over a chapter I'd just completed. In the final sentence, Gerald realized the mysterious stranger lurking inside an enchanted mirror was actually himself. What? I couldn't believe it!

I asked myself if I really meant that, and where in the world was I supposed to go from there? The following day, my muse continued the tale as if there was no problem.

Unlike the two to three years it took to write Gerald and the Wee People, book two completed itself in a couple of months. House on Bo-Kay Lane continues Gerald and Vernon's adventures with the Wee People. But instead of the boys transporting to the village of the wee people, strange things start happening at an old abandoned house in their own neighborhood. Ghostly images of familiar faces gazing out the windows begin to appear, and images of their friends begging for help haunt their dreams. Their nighttime visitations compel the reluctant teens to investigate the dilapidated house. What they uncover fuses the Wee People, a magic mirror, parallel universes, and two Geralds into a tale of mystery and difficult truths no one wants to believe.

Excerpt from House on Bo-Kay Lane
Vernon couldn't sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, visions of the house on Bo-Kay Lane flashed through his mind.

Did Gerald actually see Alyson and Sheela? Sheela, maybe. She's been to this world before. Alyson? No way. What would an apprentice firestarter be doing here? Unless the little busybody started messing with something she shouldn't have. Now that, I'd believe. Alyson could get into trouble without even trying.

Vernon reconsidered his last thoughts. Nah, that's impossible. They're both back in the far-seers compound in the Wee People village. Heck, Gerald must've been daydreaming about the friends we haven't seen in almost a year. Mulling over the past, Vernon realized he sort of missed them, too. Before he let himself go too far down the rabbit hole, he said aloud, "Nah, it was just Gerald's imagination."

After tossing and turning and beating his pillow into submission for a few more minutes, Vernon went to sleep. In his dreams, a voice called out his name. It sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn't match it with a name.

Snatches of strange images popped in and out of his head — a full-length mirror in a very fancy frame, footprints across a dusty floor, a hand reaching out towards him, and the back of someone's head. Unable to escape the visions, Vernon gave up any thought of restful sleep and sat up, totally exhausted.

Even though he was on summer break from school and usually slept in, he reluctantly dressed and exited the house through his bedroom window.

Gerald was already awake when he heard the tapping on his bedroom window. He'd had weird dreams, too. Vernon crawled through the window. The boys sat on the side of his bed. After sharing their dreams with each other, they tried to figure out why they both shared the same visions.
***
Hopefully, a third book in the Wee People series will be coming out in 2023. That is, if I can get my muse to cooperate.

Available at Amazon.com
Print
https://www.amazon.com/House-Bo-Kay-Lane-Wee-People/dp/1481214810

Kindle https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00AJUEXBS/

Universal link
http://viewbook.at/houseonbokaylane

Amazon Author Page https://www.amazon.com/Greta-Burroughs/e/B003N3F5AQ

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Unraveling Memories From the Past

1/18/2023

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After Book 2 of the Brita Madison Paranormal Mysteries series, I toyed with the idea of its just being a book with a sequel instead of a series. However, a fan of the books hounded me until I succumbed to her protestations. I jest, of course, but her sincere pleas did encourage me to take on Book 3 – Unraveling Memories.

No spoilers, but after what happened at the end of Book 2, Brita Madison is ready to push back from the spirit realm, especially if it involves murders. For four years, this works out well. She and Sam Jenkins, her husband, have moved from Williams to Phoenix, Arizona. She and Linda Olivi, a charter member of their paranormal gang and now married to Roger Dawson, have been working on cases where family members were seeking closure related to a loved one. No chance of danger.

Unfortunately, the spirit realm manages to draw Brita into not one, but ... wait, no spoilers ... more than one murder through Roger Dawson, a state trooper. A detective friend of his, Nate Addison, is accosted by a ghost, much to Nate’s dismay, who wants nothing to do with this spectral nuisance. Roger reaches out to Brita, and once the vibrations lock onto Brita, things escalate. To make things worse after such a long respite, a ghostly nemesis from the past appears, threatening her family. Desperate, Brita reaches out to the spirit realm for help.

After her paranormal friends being warned of the appearance of the nemesis, one of them friends decides to join the fray in Phoenix in case her friends need backup. Plus, being an empty-nester now, she desires a taste of freedom from her somewhat boring husband, so it’s a win-win. After her arrival, the situation gets even more complex, but at least there are three of the paranormal gang on hand to deal with it.

If you haven’t read the other books in the series, grab your copies and start the journey with Brita as the learning curve for her paranormal abilities begins. Then continue on with Unraveling Memories as her world enlarges in ways she never thought possible. Book 4 of the Brita Madison Paranormal Mysteries series is in the hands of my muse at the moment. We’re hoping to have it for you by early 2023.

Available on Amazon.com
Kindle:
https://www.amazon.com/Unraveling-Memories-Madison-Paranormal-Mysteries-ebook/dp/B07T91CWHC

Paperback:
https://www.amazon.com/Unraveling-Memories-Madison-Paranormal-Mysteries/dp/1075965926

Author Page:
http://www.amazon.com/Dannye-Williamsen/e/B004KEAFE8

Read reviews and/or descriptions at http://www.DannyeWilliamsen.com and http://www.SassyScribblerss.com/mysteries.html

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Honoring My Family’s Memory the Best Way I Know How

1/4/2023

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I’m a very lucky person. I’ve been extremely fortunate in having a wonderful family and happy memories that I treasure.

In my younger days, I could always rely on my parents to fill my needs – not necessarily all my wants – but I never had to go without food, clothes, or shelter. More importantly, their attention, love, and care never wavered, even when I was a pain in the arse.

It wasn’t until members of my family began to pass away that I realized just how much I took them for granted. On Christmas morning in 2006, I decided to honor their memories by writing a story with characters named after my father (Vernon), uncle (Gerald), and brother (Tom). A couple of years later, I added my mom (Allison).

They were gone but would never be forgotten!

Hence, Gerald and the Wee People became my attempt to cherish these special people in a way I thought would make them proud. Over two to three years, my original short story gradually expanded into a fantasy novel for kids ages nine and up. I was freelancing for a couple of newspapers at the time and worked on the manuscript during my “free time.” Needless to say, it was a slow process.

I’m a pantser, so the story remained an open slate for me, developing and coming together as I went along. It was pretty mind-boggling rereading a newly completed chapter and thinking, Gee, where did that come from? Where do I go from here?

I tried to use humor, adventure, and lots of dialogue to impress on the readers the merits of trust, friendship, and working together to achieve a goal. After Gerald and Vernon tumble into the world of the Wee People, they aid the residents in their fight against the misshapen ones while also trying to devise a plan to outsmart a forest god intent on destroying all life.

The boys encounter a mystical far-seer named Sheela, who decrees that the fighting will never end until the boys fulfill an ancient prophecy filled with many dangers and obstacles. Against their better judgment, Gerald and Vernon embark on a quest accompanied by Sheela and five other companions into the volcanic realm of Miach, the forest god. Their task: defeat the demented god and restore peace. However, not everything goes as planned.

Excerpt from Gerald and the Wee People
This time the illusion did not stop when he mentioned the forest god being up to his old tricks because this time, it wasn’t an illusion. The scorching walls blistered their hands. The hot air parched their throats. The sticky floor burned their feet through their shoes. A distant sound like the laughter they had heard earlier echoed through the cave’s passages.

Cian fell to his knees, crying out in pain as the scalding liquid burned his skin. “I can’t go on. Just leave me here to die,” he begged.

Tomas reached out to his brother to help him stand up. It was no use. Both of them were too weak and exhausted. In a weak voice he rasped, “You all go on. I’ll stay with Cian. I can’t go another step anyway.”

No one else said a word. The other boys were too tired to talk, too tired to walk, too tired to care.

This was not supposed to be happening. Gerald did not remember this from his nightmares. Something was wrong. He yelled to whoever was listening, “Did we take a wrong turn or something? Stop it, Miach, stop it! You want me. Leave my friends alone.”

His words just made matters worse. The scampering, unseen creatures came out of nowhere. They did not run past this time. Instead, they scampered back and forth, pinching and biting the legs and arms of Gerald’s companions. For some strange reason, though, the creatures did not bother him.

“Stop it, stop it now,” pleaded Gerald. “Please. I’ll do anything you want, Miach.”

Laughter echoed through the cavern as a voice inside Gerald’s head hissed, “Anything I want, huh?”
***
Be sure to get a copy of Gerald and the Wee People to find out how Gerald and his companions escape from Miach’s volcanic realm.