My Halloween Contributions

All works copyrighted and previously published by Lola Gentry-Dey. All rights reserved. Hello from Lola. And Happy Halloween. My kids are excited about trick-or-treat tonight: Candy, candy, candy. While I break from making finishing touches on their costumes, I am posting some of my poems and stories for Halloween. I am the new person here

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Ghost Lights (A Halloween Story)

A spine-tingling tale for Halloween. Happy Halloween, everybody. This story © 2002 by Steven Campbell. I write this alone somewhere within the outer bowels of Myers Ridge. I hope I will survive to get this to the proper hands for publication. And as implausible and of unsound mind as it will seem, what I am

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Embarking On Vree’s New Journey

I am preparing to write stories about Vree Erickson and her friend Lenny Stevens again. Lenny is a character I created 48 years ago. Vree soon followed. The above statement makes it seem like I have written for a long time. I have not. I spent most of that time painting and creating art. Even

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Nightmare, part 3 of 3

The last part of this 3-part story is a WIP that my friend Lola and I worked on jointly several years ago. We never finished it. I decided to post it to coincide with the month that will lead us to Halloween. Reader Advisory: The story may contain strong language. ~ 3 ~ I couldn’t

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Nightmare, part 2 of 3

The second part of this 3-part story is a WIP that my friend Lola and I worked on jointly several years ago. We never finished it. I decided to post it to coincide with the month that will lead us to Halloween. Reader Advisory: The story may contain strong language. ~ 2 ~ I knew

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Nightmare, part 1 of 3

October is one of my favorite months of the year. Spooky stories percolate in my mind and sometimes make their way to paper, or to the Internet and my blog. The following 3-part story is a WIP that my friend Lola and I worked on jointly several years ago. We never finished it. I decided

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Waxing Nostalgic, Rush

If we could go back in time and if I could invite you into my home in 1974, I’d want you to listen to my brother Russ’s favorite music for a moment. It was heavy, hard, crashing, wild, and untamed at times. Raw. Energetic. Heavy metal. Thundering. Outside, it was summer. I had just graduated

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Waxing Nostalgic, McCartney Music

My last post was about music I grew up listening to. I featured 10 albums that I call “The soundtrack of my life.” Actually, those albums are mostly the soundtrack of my early teen life. Each one has a reason for being on the list that I kept at 10 albums due to time restraints,

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Waxing Nostalgic With Music

Music is a big deal where I work at and I hear a lot of it on their radio that I don’t like. No matter how well I try to appreciate music after the 1980s, “I like that old-time rock ‘n’ roll” best. Of course, my definition of old-time rock ‘n’ roll differs from some

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Alice’s Hole

Poetry by Lola Gentry-Dey. All rights reserved. Inhabited between wild things, wonderful things, Who Am I? No longer a main priority, no longer stapled to a better forever determining worth and future. I Am the problems I’m not letting go of. I Am the energy and struggle to do better in this Magical universe, reincarnate

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Recap and What’s Ahead

2018 is a year of do-overs for my Ridgewood characters and their stories. Forget everything about them. Forget all of it. This is the year that began with a blank slate—a book of blank paper where anything is possible. Like many writers, there are times when I dread starting the blank paper because, well, if

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Merging Similar Characters

Changes, Part 6 During a break from writing, I continue discussing the changes I have made to my Ridgewood characters. Sometimes it is necessary for authors to reduce the number of characters entering and exiting their story’s scenes. This is a good time to look for characters with similar personalities. If two characters have similar

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Julie

Changes, Part 5 Today is my birthday. I find it fitting to feature a character I created on my birthday many years ago when I was a teenager. Julianna “Julie” Michelle Douglas, 13 In the beginning, I named her Lucinda after an older sister I almost had. She was big sister to Kenny (named Lenny

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Vree

Changes, Part 4 Verawenda “Vree” Renee Erickson, 13 Upon her creation in the 1970s, Verawenda Erickson was the same age as my other teen characters. She was an only child, nicknamed Vree, and lived with her parents down the road from Dave and Amy. Years later, when I decided to write about Vree again, I

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Amy

Changes, Part 3 Another change (and more to come) to strengthen my characters. Amy Elizabeth Conrad, 15 As a teenage male in the 1970s, the hardest part of writing was understanding my female characters. I had plenty of girl cousins to study, but I grew up in a household of six males and one female,

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Kenny

Changes, Part 2 Another change (and more to come), which I feel is necessary to strengthen my characters, is my old buddy, Lenny Stevens with a new name and personality. Kenneth “Kenny” Jeffrey Douglas, 15 He, as Lenny Stevens, is the second person I created. He buddied with Dave Evans (now, Dave Conrad) in high

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Taken By Surprise, by Polly Smrcka

(From Hatch Hollow Tomboy. Used by permission.) Life on the stony, rolling acres of the family farm was never dull. There were always new and interesting, sometimes frightening, experiences to add to the daily humdrum of endless work. Never were two days alike. One particular day from early childhood never dims in my memory with

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Into the New

Changes, Part 1 January has been a month of stepping back and observing the past, seeing what I can take with me into the new year and what to leave behind. As an artist and writer, it is also a time when I look at the parts of my art and writing I can change

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Another Year

Yes. Another year. As usual, I entered my WordPress blog after a long hiatus and spent the whole day redesigning my blog instead of writing. The artist is the true inner child in me—I love playing with design. Anyway, I played all day with many themes, inspecting their positive and negative elements until I found

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Sending Out a Finished Manuscript, by Beverley Bittner

From the Help Desk of Beverley Bittner. PJ has been working a long time on a mystery novel. She is finishing it and wants to know if she should send the whole thing to a publisher. First, congratulations on actually finishing your story, PJ. That’s the first big step of writing. Marketing is the second

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Power That Counts, by Pauline Vaow

In our rural area, it is not unusual for the electric power to go out during a thunder and lightning storm. Sometimes the lights will be out for hours and when they come back on, they may still be dim for a while. Our Lord Jesus tells us to let our lights shine brightly out

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Mittens Writes a Letter, by Lorraine Dahl

KENNY! WHERE are you? All of a sudden your ex-girlfriend shows up and me and all my belongings are HISTORY from our house. I’m scared Where are you? I miss you! She took me to her daughter’s house in Columbus. I hate it in Columbus! They have a mean cat that chewed off a piece

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Area History, Chapter 10, by Beverley Bittner

The Corry Building That Wouldn’t Stay Put. By Beverley Bittner. It was built by William Brightman in Wayne Township before the Civil War. Brightman’s father was a Methodist preacher and the 32 by 45 foot building was to be a Methodist church. It was located about one mile northwest of Corry beyond Macadam Hill at

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Area History, Chapter 9, by Beverley Bittner

Vene Potter’s Trip to Dixie. By Beverley Bttner. Vene Potter left Bloomfield Township with two horses, a dog, and a loaded wagon weighing 2,735 pounds. He was bound for a farm in Virginia and a new start in life. His letters home indicate the hardships of the journey and the indomitable pioneer spirit that makes

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Area History, Chapter 8, by Beverley Bittner

Spartansburg: An Historic Village. By Beverley Bittner, From Steppin’ Out, August 1971. About thirty miles west of Warren and ten miles south of Corry, in Crawford County, lies the historic village of Spartansburg. About 1837 Andrew Aiken and his brother Aron built a dam across the creek for power, then built a grist mill on

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Area History, Chapter 7, by Beverley Bittner

Corry’s First Mayor. By Beverley Bittner, From the autumn, 1979 issue of Reminiscence. Many men and women walked across the pages of our history in the early days, leaving footprints for historians to ponder over for all time. Familiar names include: Michael Hare, Call and Rihue. Nothing is known of Call and Rihue, while Hare

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Area History, Chapter 6, by Beverley Bittner

Union and the War of 1812. By Beverley Bittner, From Brown-Thompson Newspapers, January 1974. It was a time of western expansion. Many who settled in our area soon pushed further westward. By 1811, more than half of the original settlers had left the county, believing that all who did not leave must starve. While their

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Area History, Chapter 5, by Beverley Bittner

Union Township: How the Pioneers Lived. By Beverley Bittner, From the spring, 1978 issue of Reminisence. By the 1790s the great western migration that followed the Revolutionary War had begun in earnest. The Indians had been pacified. The deep forests, game, clear rushing streams and rivers and the opportunity to live free, away from the

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Area History, Chapter 4, by Beverley Bittner

Lowville. By Beverley Bittner, From the Erie Times-News, August 28, 1988. Lowville is a small settlement just north of Wattsburg at the intersection of Routes 8 and 89. “It used to be quite an active stagecoach stop,” a former resident said. ‘‘My mother told how they used to drive cattle up Route 8 – it

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Area History, Chapter 3, by Beverley Bittner

William Crawford. By Beverley Bittner. Michael Hare claimed to have witnessed the horrible death of famed frontier soldier Col. William Crawford. The colonel was a personal friend of George Washington. From Fort Pitt, he led many raids against hostile Indians. In 1782, the fifty-year-old colonel led a major expedition into Ohio to put down an

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Area History, Chapter 2, by Beverley Bittner

Michael Hare. By Beverley Bittner, From Steppin’ Out, 1973. The full title is “Olden Times, or a History of the Settlement of Union Township and Vicinity.” The writer is David Wilson. His parents, Hugh and Hannah Wilson, settled in the Union area in 1797. David’s book was published in 1881 by the Times Steam Printing

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Area History, Chapter 1, by Beverley Bittner

Waterford: No Castles or Brick Houses in 1795. By Beverley Bittner, From the autumn, 1980 issue of Reminiscence. By the mid-1700’s, the French had built several forts along Lake Erie. They did not seize the land from the Indians, but only traded there and by gifts and promises made friends of the Indians. The forts

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Area History, Introduction, by Beverley Bittner

From Beverley Bittner: Readers: From 1977 to 1979, I co-edited and wrote for the Reminiscence magazine, a popular 12-page publication of local history. I also wrote on history for Steppin’ Out magazine and newspapers. I found a box of clippings from these writings recently in an unused closet. What fun I had reading those old

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Inheritance, by Carolyn Cox

We sit on Mother Earth, Her watchful eye and furrowed brow creased in worry As she watches over us with feet of prosperity. Pollution and decay all around us; We who snatch the grain from her warm, soft soil, Always taking, never giving While birds of the field scatter seed to replenish her storehouse. We

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Getting Started, by Beverley Bittner

From the Help Desk of Beverley Bittner. Most of us have read a poem, a story or an article that caused us to exclaim, “I could write like that, maybe even better, if only I knew how to get started. Kathy has a book of fiction in the works. She has a plot, she knows

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I Have Seen The Best Minds Of My Generation Destroyed By Madness

Poetry by Lola Gentry-Dey. All rights reserved. Too many people stomping around— fractured herds mucking the rivers, shitting the highways, killing the grass. They think they know when they don’t. They rode lame in a hot race and wept when their HellCat lost. Now they cry from twit-faces in their concrete castles filled with Eisenhower

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Corry Writer’s Block Blog

A quick shout-out to those of you who belonged to the Writer’s Block writing group in Corry, PA. I joined the group in 2002, three years after Corry author and newspaper columnist Beverley Bittner founded it. I decided to post some the group’s old news columns and stories for historical reasons. Our group didn’t have

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New Ridgewood, 2

Wherever Vree was, she could not see much, just gray darkness similar to the warm and safe kind beneath her blankets when she and Zoey used them for tents in her bedroom. But she was not beneath her blankets. The grayness was infinite here, wherever here was, and she floated and rolled and swam in

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New Ridgewood, 1

Ridgewood continues to change. The same goes for her characters. After all, real-life 2017 is a bizarre, stranger time than 1970 when I began creating the place and her residents. And no matter how fictional they are, they need an essence of reality to make them current and believable. I have told Vree Erickson’s story

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When I Came With You (Revisited)

Poetry by Lola Gentry-Dey. All rights reserved. It was here one night among white blossoms and junipers that we lay touching while the rest of the world snored in their small beds. We breathed frost words to breezes on branches breathing deeply in the deep woods with no earthly destination hidden behind the pulse of

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Car Hysteria (Seduction Revisited)

Poetry by Lola Gentry-Dey. All rights reserved. Earlier today shopkeepers seduced pot-bellied old men with sleek fast brand-new cars that rubbed and kissed their trousers and guaranteed to stop lonesomeness. Erstwhile minds backpedaled on leather seats where stale memories surfaced and breathed new air striking deals in brown cubicles under the breath of fresh coffee.

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Elsie Gee Cartoons

Art by Lola Gentry-Dey. All rights reserved. I took a “Drawing Cartoons” class when I was a kid because I used to draw them in my school notebooks when I was supposed to be paying attention to my teachers. I was a big daydreamer. Luckily, ADD wasn’t a big social issue then, so I was

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The Blogger Me

Artwork by Lola Gentry-Dey. All rights reserved. It feels good to blog again about my poems and art. Although I have been blogging since 1996, I feel like a stranger blogging again and reaching out and meeting new bloggers here at WordPress. I pen mostly free verse poetry—poems written in open forms sometimes called “Naked

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Dreaming Fear

Poetry by Lola Gentry-Dey. All rights reserved. I dream fear in radical light shape and shadow— our night sun and day moon know the blood sky the bone wind the muscle and flesh rain the earth-weight traps and prisons where our slippery slopes are built too high on circles of madness which I journey to often

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Good Books Are Dreams Come True

Poetry by Lola Gentry-Dey. All rights reserved. I journey often to faraway places, many anew, others revisited, spent with treasured friends, rare and unique— life is clever with good friends around us. First-run journeys take me like a child perhaps across rustic bridges, perhaps beyond orchard ways, likely to places to be seen with new

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Dream Angie

Short story by Lola Gentry-Dey. All rights reserved. I awoke from my nap and remembered I was on a plane home to San Diego. I glanced around the low-lit cabin of thirteen other passengers, most of them asleep and a few with their heads bowed over some reading material. Across the aisle, my mother snored

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Vree’s Journal Entry 6

It took me a while to dig up this information. Here it is: Balen Renfrew, My Wizard Uncle Balen James Renfrew is my maternal grandmother’s 45-year-old son. He has thick, dark-brown hair, beard stubble (he calls it 5 o’clock shadow—he always looks like he needs to shave before the end of the day), dark blue

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A Past Kept In Shoeboxes

I used to keep my snapshot photographs stored in albums. When I married and had children, my wife and I did the same for many years. Then, somewhere along the passage of time, we stopped storing our photos in albums and tossed them into empty shoeboxes instead. Now we have 30+ years of unlabeled shoeboxes

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Moving Along Nicely

Four days into February and the year’s writing project is moving along nicely. Grafting two major stories into a novel takes the finesse akin to a surgeon’s delicate hand: a wrong move can put the story into cardiac arrest, so I’m operating carefully. I want the final project to be a work of art. That’s

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Continuing My New Year Plan

As I promised in my last blog post, I am keeping you—my followers and fans of my Ridgewood stories—posted with my progress of reestablishing order and content of my books at Amazon.com’s KDP and to publish a physical paperback this year. Sometime in February I will take my books off market at Amazon.com. Later (probably

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New Year Goal: A Plan For Action

I’m an artist, but I don’t do much art anymore except create covers for my books. I’m a writer, but I don’t write as often as I want to. So I’m mostly a reader when I’m not working my “9 to 5” job, studying the craft of writing in the books I read, and dreaming

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Vree’s Journal Entry 5

Lightning struck Grandma Lybrook when she was 4 years old while she fished with her father at the backside of Alice Lake; the strike left her with low-grade psychic ability, which she kept hidden and secret from us until I saw it psychically. Her psychic ability allows her to see ghosts and other creatures invisible

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Vree’s Journal Entry 4

Leonard “Lenny” Stevens is my best friend Zoey’s big brother. He’s a handsome boy, with dreamy dark brown (chocolate) eyes and thick, burnt sienna hair. He stands around 5’ 7” tall and weighs 125-130 pounds. He is older—15, born July 5, a day that he and his family know also as “Margga’s Curse” because of

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Margga’s Curse, revised: Chapter 10

“Vree?” Grandma released my hand. “Are you okay?” She waved her other hand in front of my eyes as the remnants of the vision faded. “I seemed to have lost your attention for a moment.” Her face bore a concerned look. “Tired,” I said, blinking and taking in the room that was my new bedroom.

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Margga’s Curse, revised: Chapter 9

The woman’s scream in my head diminished. The sickness in my stomach did not. “I need to lie down,” I said, bolting from the porch swing and charging into the house. The soles of my tennis shoes pounded against the steps as I hurried up the two flights of stairs to my bedroom. I would

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Margga’s Curse, revised: Chapter 8

The air tasted sweet and was warm as I sat on the front porch swing and rocked. Past a small rise in the road, a dark blue house across the road sat on a large hill almost two hundred yards up the road. It was a pretty house, more modern looking than the one I

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Margga’s Curse, revised: Chapter 7

I stayed close to Lenny, who guided me across the backyard. Along the way, I stopped at a line of three large, bleached canvas camp tents in front of a square fire pit made of cement blocks. “Some of the bedrooms aren’t done yet, so your grandfather thought everyone would enjoy sleeping outside,” Lenny explained

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Margga’s Curse, revised: Chapter 6

I opened my eyes to Mom’s concerned face looking down at me. A warm hand and soft fingers pushed hair from my forehead. I lay on the living room sofa and I felt like I floated. I put a foot to the floor to keep myself anchored. My shoulder, back and leg muscles ached, but

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Margga’s Curse, revised: Chapter 5

“So, Grandma and Grandpa are staying with us, huh?” I said, looking back at the red Dodge pickup truck in the driveway. “Things are gonna be different.” I lowered my voice. “A lot.” I unbuckled my seatbelt, slid from my seat and out my door, and stood like a newborn foal on concrete next to

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Margga’s Curse, revised: Chapter 4

CT scans, MRIs, PET scans, x-rays, all in five days … “I’m gonna glow in the dark,” I said to Mom while I looked out at the rain and soggy countryside zooming past us. It was 4:30 p.m. and New Cambridge was behind us. Ridgewood and home was less than an hour away. Mom asked

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Margga’s Curse, revised: Chapter 3

Storms have a way of looking worse through windows. It was a sudden thought as a torrent of rain outside the hospital drummed like a carwash rinse down the long and narrow plate glass windows at my left. Outside, the streets were probably empty, everyone indoors, cursing the rain, but celebrating the Fourth of July

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Margga’s Curse, revised: Chapter 2

Wherever I was, I could not see much, just gray darkness similar to the warm and safe kind beneath my blankets when Zoey and I used them for tents in my bedroom. But I was not beneath my blankets. The grayness was infinite here, wherever here was, and I floated and rolled and swam in

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Get On With Telling More Stories

Hi. Lenny Stevens here. You may remember me from my last post, Help A Guy Out. I think Steve Campbell is making a mistake rewriting the Margga’s Curse story so that Vree Erickson’s parts are in first person point of view—aka 1p POV. He’s trying to be trendy because many young adult books today are

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Kismet eBook Is Free Till Halloween

A reminder that my 99-cent sci-fi adventure novella Kismet: A Ridgewood Tale is still free at Smashwords, which ends Halloween (10/31/2016). To get yours, go to my Smashwords page and enter coupon code AR96Q (not case-sensitive) when ordering. You can download the book in the following formats for your tablet, e-reader and /or computer: epub,

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Margga’s Curse, revised: Chapter 1

Intro I know, most of you would rather see my artwork and photography than read my writing. But for the handful of followers who enjoy my writing segments, here’s the continuation of my attempt to rewrite Night of the Hellhounds, or accurately, Margga’s Curse. After I published Night of the Hellhounds with its new title

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Redoing “Night of the Hellhounds” (Part 4)

Chapter 4: Turning the Short Story into a Novel Sometime in 1998 I planned writing a novel based on a friend’s idea of a teenager moving to a new town where there are magic and weird happenings afoot. The concept was an overused one but that didn’t stop me from mapping the story and building

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Developing Characters and Story, Part 4

My Psychic Abilities, by Vree Erickson A girl with psychic abilities is sometimes called a witch or sorceress. I am neither. I do not practice witchcraft or sorcery, though I do have a book that contains magic spells … when the book reveals them to me. Lightning struck me and unlocked psychic abilities in me.

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Developing Characters and Story, Part 3

My Friends and Neighbors on Myers Ridge (So Far), by Vree Erickson Leonard “Lenny” Stevens Lenny is my age—15, born July 5, a day that was known as Margga’s Curse because of a witch’s spirit that tried to kill his family on that day every year. Lenny works helping my maternal grandfather Jack Lybrook fix

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Developing Characters and Story, Part 2

The Magic in Me, by Vree Erickson My Family Tree Joseph and Hendrika Groot (my maternal great-great-great-great-great-grandparents); begat 2 children. Their daughter Mina Groot (my great-great-great-great-grandmother), married Baltisar Andersson; they begat 7 children. Their daughter Ruth Andersson (my great-great-great-grandmother), married Jonathan Kaufmann; they begat 2 sons. Their youngest son Joseph Kaufmann (my great-great-grandfather), married Helen

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Developing Characters and Story, Part 1

Sketches and Anecdotes About Me, by Vree Erickson My Origins and Family My name is Verawenda Renée Erickson. I have straight, shoulder length blonde hair that I usually part in the middle. Mom won’t let me get a pixie cut like hers, though I’d really like short hair so it’d be easier to dry when

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Redoing “Night of the Hellhounds” (Part 3)

Chapter 3: Vree’s Comeback Not long after I published Night of the Hellhounds, 2.0 and the alternate ending version Night of the Hellhounds, 2.1, I found the original draft in a box of high school papers and notebooks. I knew I wanted to bring Vree Erickson back, so I took to the keyboard and composed

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Redoing “Night of the Hellhounds” (Part 2)

Chapter 2: Rewrites, Rewrites, Rewrites Sometime while I was in high school, I decided to rewrite “Ghost Dogs.” Night of the Hellhounds, 2.0 It’s basically the same story: some teenagers are on Myers Ridge and they meet malevolent ghost dogs that put someone’s life in danger. During the first rewrite, I took myself out as

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A Dreamer’s Shangri-La

Beyond the valley sunsets through a nestled paradise for dreamers beside a crystal lagoon where the deep and green go my laughter embraces the wonders here My heart beats warm where waters flow from a sparkling waterfall I bathe away the devil and drown her in the quick I slumber on the stardust seldom ever

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I Won Artwork

Forgive me for bragging but I was a recent recipient of the beautiful digital painting pictured here, a masterful piece of art by a talented artist at WordPress. See paintdigi. I’m very proud to have won, and excited that I’m allowed to reproduce it into a physical piece of art to hang in my house.

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Walking The Dark Road

My blog is 4 months old and it already feels like a neglected child crying for attention. September has been a busy month here at the Dey residence with the transitioning of my children going back to school and getting them to pay attention to their new schedules. My oldest has been a champ at

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Redoing “Night of the Hellhounds” (Part 1)

Chapter 1: The Beginning Those of you who have read my blog since its start in 2011 know I wrote a short story called “The Ghost Dogs” when I was 13 years old and an eighth-grader at my small town high school in northwest Pennsylvania. Until then, I was an avid reader who occasionally wrote

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New World Slavery

A woman from a fishing village slaves in a sweatshop, making shirts for retail stores, selling them at low prices to help save shoppers money to spend at McDonalds after the Little League game tonight. She makes barely enough money to pay the rent of her shared one-bedroom apartment in the city where hucksters scramble

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Nightfall (Old Poems Revised)

Night falls swiftly on us— our lives are a flash in the sinking sun, ten thousand years of rebounded vibrations— I call it life but you call it hell. You steer my sight to the setting sun and tell me that it’s evening for us all— the night is silence: no more color, no Hawaiian

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Abstract Boat Art

Let’s talk about manipulating digital images. That’s a real thorn for photography purists who hate even macro photography. But I don’t think there are any of those dinosaurs still around. I think every old photographer alive today has digitized their stock photos and then manipulated the hell out of them in Photoshop or other image-editing

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Tales And Secrets (Before The Tales Begin Revisited)

The old woman hovers near the woodstove and drags a calloused hand across her crinkled forehead as if wiping away smoke and sweat. She pauses, looking; her eyes flash between her fingers and strike my soul. I feel her in my mind, looking, searching, all the while reading the history there. Where have I gone

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Pretty Postcards?

Here are more photographs. Today’s theme is water. I have a deep love and respect for water. I grew up around it, lived on it, and traveled to some of its depths. If ever I were a fictional character, I would be a mermaid with the ability to have legs to walk the shore. Best

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Abstract Art

Light and shadow create form, which makes drawn or painted objects look three-dimensional. Too much of either one in your drawings or paintings flattens and distorts the images. Many early drawings I did were flat and distorted. It was frustrating and caused me to quit drawing. Then an art teacher told me to put a

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Graphite Art

A problem I have with soft-lead graphite pencils is going too dark and making my drawings “muddy.” On the other side of the spectrum, hard-lead graphite pencils don’t go dark enough. Other problems with soft-lead pencils are they lose their points fast and the graphite smudges easily on the paper if I touch it. Still,

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Free Books

I just found out that July is a great month to get ebooks for free or at discounted prices at Smashwords. I have two books there that are permanently free, and one that is 99 cents (USD). The free ones are Old Bones: A Collection of Short Stories and Margga’s Curse: A Vree Erickson Novel.

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Summer Nocturne (Halcyon Days Revisited)

A gentle breeze caresses trees where children play in savanna gray. Meadows laugh whispered breaths on a beautiful warm summer eve. An inquisitive rain slips from dappled clouds; sunlight bright on its mist that kisses my upturned face: soft caresses like satin dresses making love to my bare skin. I lie in the arms of

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Young Love

—1995— Sun-kissed golden down of woven sunlight on feet so small Sundress yellow shines flaxen halo on cushion grass Body electric sitting in the shade glorious Delighted little girl pounces and kisses lips deeply silkily Earthly heaven scent is a warm sunbeam gleeful A bed beneath sheets of pure love as long as rivers run

Heat

She rode her motorcycle’s heat between her legs from an engine throbbing like constant thunder. The frame and the ride were hot. She shivered like a dangling shoe on the end of a naked foot. She pointed her knees at men she found interesting. The exposure to the frisky wind and throbbing engine were like

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Water Shots

I have always been attracted to water and the life and world within it; perhaps it’s because I’m an Aquarian. Water can be hypnotic with its reflections and refractions of light and color, and it draws me to capture its many expressions. Here then is a sampling of local reflections and the sites that lay atop

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Free Kismet eBook Promotion Reminder

Now until Halloween of this year you can save 99 cents and get my ebook Kismet: A Ridgewood Tale free at my Smashwords page by entering coupon code AR96Q (not case-sensitive) when ordering. You can download the book in the following formats for your tablet, e-reader and/or computer: epub, mobi, pdf, lrf, pdb, txt, and

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Old Bones: Different Perspectives

A short story from my book Old Bones. * THE COFFEEHOUSE WINDOW Larry sat beside reminded him of sitting in his car at the carwash. Except, this wasn’t Get Wet Express. This was another rainy day in Ridgewood, at Mabel’s, on Monday, around eight-thirty in the morning, and he sat across his sister Elaine, her

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Old Bones: Behavior Unkind

Here is a strange story about a man who disrespects others, including his mother … perfect for Mothers Day. * SOMETHING STRANGE HAD happened to Myers Ridge after an earthquake shook the little town of Ridgewood three months ago. Vehicles began stalling on the ridge. Not all vehicles stalled, and sometimes a day went by

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Old Bones: Are We There Yet?

With all its blemishes, I wrote the strange and creepy “Are We There Yet?” in 1999 and published it at my old no-longer-in-service website. Since then, I have recycled parts of it for my Vree Erickson novel, Margga’s Curse. * ON A PARTICULAR August day, not far from Ridgewood, Pennsylvania, a black Grand Cherokee wound

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Free Book Promotion

Hello readers and fans of my fiction. I am offering my 99-cent sci-fi adventure novella Kismet: A Ridgewood Tale free starting tomorrow (5/1/2016) and ending Halloween (10/31/2016) at my Smashwords page. Go to my page here and enter coupon code AR96Q (not case-sensitive) when ordering. You can download the book in the following formats for

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I’m At Smashwords

After publishing my ebooks at Amazon for three years, I finally stuck my toes in the waters of Smashwords today, checked for sharks and other things that bite, and took the plunge. See my profile page at Smashwords. Click here. After I filled out my profile page, I uploaded an ebook formatted to Smashwords’s specifications.

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Backstory of Margga’s Curse

My last blog post dealt with changing the title of my e-novel Night of the Hellhounds to Margga’s Curse. As I said, the novel began forty-some years ago as a short story called “Ghost Dogs.” I was in high school and enjoyed writing fiction from the perspective of two teenage male protagonists, Lenny Stevens and

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Night of the Hellhounds Gets New Title

Attention readers and followers of my Ridgewood books. After months of consideration, I decided to retitle Night of the Hellhounds, the first novel in the Vree Erickson series. The story began as “Ghost Dogs,” a short story I wrote in the 1970s that dealt heavily with a pack of vicious ghost dogs chasing the main

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