Posted on 4 Comments

REMEMBERING SHERRY

I distinctly remember Dad telling me he’d met someone in the fall of ’92. Fresh from the battlefield of divorce, I was skeptical of anything good ever happening again to a seven-year-old.

She lived an hour north of us in a community called Eubank.

I felt the strain of my boat coming unmoored from its place at the dock.

I asked why he wanted to remarry. Weren’t my sister and I enough?

He told me I’d like her, and I agreed to be civil that first meeting.

They went on 2 dates in December and were married by mid-month.

I wasn’t happy, but I could tell Dad was.

Sherry introduced me and my sister to her daughter. We stared at one another across the small living room like detainees awaiting interrogation.

But it didn’t remain that way for long.

Sherry brought out a tantalizing tray of Rice Krispy Treats, and I was weakened – much quicker, I might add, than my sister.

My footing felt uncertain on the steps of this new threshold.

She wanted me to enjoy them. Dad had told her how much I loved the marshmallow-y sweets.

I smiled and reluctantly took candy from a stranger.

But little did I know that I was meeting someone who’d blossom into a fixture in my life for the next 27 years.

Today.

Sherry’s best friend, Becky, stands at the front of Morris & Hislope Funeral Home and relays all the kinds gestures she’s been shown over the years.

Sherry is described as an angel. Someone capable of letting anyone close, just with her eyes.

She is a rock for countless souls descending to pay their final respects.

A Garth Brooks song is playing – The Dance, one Dad and her first danced to at their wedding.

He tells me its the song he heard playing when he left the hospital just one week ago.

Sherry’s pictures are featured on poster boards, and her eyes are penetrating even still across the parlor.

Her smile is fixed in each Polaroid like a singer about to sing a song everyone has come to hear.

Dad’s brother is providing the eulogy and red roses rest atop the casket.

It’s a color scheme Sherry would’ve wanted, Dad said earlier.

The funeral is tomorrow, and while Sherry will be laid to rest with her parents, her brother, even her son, Jason, she will be emblazoned on the hearts of all who can still hear her laugh.

She now sings on that high mountain and her work down here is done.

Posted on 2 Comments

AN INTERVIEW WITH STEPH POST, AUTHOR OF THE NEW NOVEL MIRACULUM

I had the chance to interview the fantastic novelist, Steph Post, recently. (That’s her with the bow-and-arrow above.) She posts some terrific content online from Florida. I was first introduced to her work, A Tree Born Crooked, on Goodreads. And from that book till now, I’ve been hooked. Or, arrowed. However you want to say it…her writing is top-notch! I’ll leave the clichés alone.

So she took precious time to answer some questions and then she went back to writing more amazing fiction.

Here’s the conversation:

Steph, if you weren’t writing, what would you be doing with all of your free time?

Taking care of more chickens, more dogs, making my art. Though, honestly, I can’t imagine not writing. It’s so ingrained in me, so much a part of my life now. But in-between books, when I’m working on promotion or beginning research, I have a lot more time for my animals and my garden, and my guilty pleasures like playing video games.

Persephone, the chicken
Hatchet, the cattledog
one of Steph’s print series

Have you ever given up on a writing project?

Not entirely, but I have put projects on hold, which I’ve circled back around to. I started the novel I’m currently working on a few years ago, but I had to drop it at the time. I just wasn’t ready, or even capable, of writing it then. I sort of felt like a failure for stopping work on it, but now that I’m back at it, I can see that I absolutely had to take that break, to ensure that the work went in the right direction.

Definitely. So…In your eyes, what does it mean to be a “successful” writer?

To be constantly working on a book. Of course I want the books to be well-received. I want to be engaged with the literary community and always stay true to myself as an authentic voice. But success measured by outsiders may not always be a constant. For me, it’s always been about the work, the actual act of building a book. As long as I can keep doing that, I consider myself successful.

Do you have a set routine as a writer? Things that work for you?

I go through cycles, depending on what stage of a novel I’m working on. But when I’m really in the groove, I write 9-noon, every day. The hours lengthen at the drafts progress, though. I’m also one of those writers who can only write from home, at my desk, in my studio. I so admire authors who can write anywhere—in hotels, on buses, while traveling—but I’m certainly not one of them.

Your new novel, Miraculum, has garnered some big reviews…Are there any symbols running throughout your novel we should look for? Do readers recognize them?

There are so many symbols running throughout Miraculum and it’s been awesome to see readers catching on to them. In particular, I love to use animals and animal symbolism in my writing. The obvious ones in Miraculum are the fox and the snake, for Daniel and Ruby, as the trickster and the embodiment of regeneration. I love it, though, when readers find symbols, themes or motifs that I didn’t see myself in my own work. It’s always fascinating to see what connections are being unearthed.

Steph, thank you for taking the time to chat. Keep up the great work!

If you’d like to learn more about her work, check out her site at: http://stephpostauthor.blogspot.com/.

Posted on Leave a comment

Independent

You’ve always had it

and I wanted it

so badly

the Spirit

and independence

to make a baby coo

and scare a poacher

all in the same breath

You brought neighbors closer

and shied away

from false prophets

I admired the heart

you gave

to others

without ever asking

for anything

And seeing your Spirit

hurt by anything

was too much so

I looked away

at anything else

Because I knew

I couldn’t handle

the crippling weight

you carried

on your back

in your joints

and never complained

even once

Posted on Leave a comment

Baby Book Underway

Dear Readers:

2019 has started strong, and I have a new story underway.

It’s a baby book with children’s illustrations.

The ever-so-skilled Katerina Dotneboya (Pokeweed artist) has agreed to do artwork on this venture.

It’s an ocean tale complete with critters and vivid, seafaring imagery.

Be on the lookout for updates regarding this and other exciting things in the coming weeks!

Thank you to all my readers & supporters,

Brian

Posted on Leave a comment

YA-hoo Fest! on 9.29

Hey! If you’re in Chattanooga on 9.29, stop by this exciting festival to hear some amazing authors speak about their craft! Or, you can simply visit & hang out with me.

I’ll be moderating Session 5: ‘Writers Talking Craft’ with Dave Connis, Randy Ribay, Maggie Thrash, and Jeff Zentner from 2:15-3pm that day. These are some heroes of mine in the YA realm. You won’t be disappointed!

Description:

Chattanooga’s Celebration of Young Adult and Middle Grades Literature

Includes:

Readings, Book Sales,
Panel Discussions,
Author Signings,
Food Trucks, Vendors & Fun

Link to register for this FREE event: https://www.yahoofest.org/

See you there,

Brian

Posted on Leave a comment

Kentucky-like Bahamas

Here’s a poem from last year’s trip to the beach. A large inspiration being a UK article citing how parts of the Kentucky River mirror the Bahamas of present-day (with limestone formations dating back 450 million years to the Ordovician Period):

 

If Kentucky wasn’t landlocked…
it’d be located somewhereabouts

Nassau

betwixt the Bahamas and the blue Caribbean

Limestone sediment and
formations similar to millions of years ago

Geologists see it
and caves in both

distant cousins

The earth as one piece
and then as many

Jostled about much like

family

Posted on Leave a comment

Pre-Orders for Pokeweed

My debut novella, POKEWEED, is now available for pre-order. When you purchase my book, it will ship your way on September 20th. Here’s a video teaser –

 

Prior to this publication, I wasn’t savvy to how important pre-orders were, but they ultimately determine a book’s well-being. Therefore, the more copies I sell during the pre-order period, the better its chance of living, breathing, and growing.

Writing this novella was amazing, and I’m so grateful for all those whose input went into it before publication at Black Rose. Thank you, Katerina Dotneboya, for the exceptional artwork created from halfway across the globe!

Some of my literary heroes read my work beforehand and shared their blurbs with me. They’re on my website & will be printed on the inside of this book.

I’m currently developing my first children’s picture book as well. I am so fortunate to have found a community of people who share my passion for writing both online and within the Chattanooga community.

Here are the two central link(s) to preorder POKEWEED: www.blackrosewriting.com/childrens-booksya/Pokeweed & http://ow.ly/d3cJ30lO2MS

Please share. I am so, so grateful.

#brwriting #pokeweed #throwforwardthursday

Posted on Leave a comment

Mothering

Mothers are the lifeblood of our best days on earth. It’s a role not chosen but gifted. And those willing to rise to the occasion shape the planet one laboring gesture at a time. From the act of childbirth to Sunday school to wiping a bloody lip, they exhibit selflessness. And in an age where we can command gadgets to relay anything at a moment’s notice (our every whim really), this is a fresh example.

It still takes nine months for this gift to arrive. The virgin Mary to our own parental DNA, they are all embedded with the will to survive, to nurture. We cry and are comforted. The diaper is changed before a nasty rash settles in. Food and sustenance are supplied by our caretakers. We bask and rest in summer months filled with sunshine and endless amounts of Vitamin D.

My own is someone I cannot even begin to describe. She deserves more than tangible gifts on a single Sunday in May. I laugh when websites suggest gifts for me to send her way on Mother’s Day. What could I ever share with her that equates to the gift of life? Can a person come remotely close to delivering something so substantial as their own date of birth?

My own wife, and best friend, is developing our own gift right this very moment. A date stated as her own date of birth in late summer. She glows with the radiance of new life beneath her. The stomach nests baby much like a mother hen caring for her own. Inside great things are at work, and I marvel at what is hidden, what kicks and jolts the epidermis after some watermelon is munched down.

The skin of life stretches and new cells form. But unlike a yawning biology class, this is visible and mystifying. God’s own world growing before the naked eye. I watch and am comforted by the unknowable development. Something man cannot alter or create in a million lifetimes if he tried. The embryo that makes us all and hatches new wonders minute-by-minute. Time is paused and clocks are rendered useless while mothers do what only they can.

Birth without a death in sight is peace-filled, and worry is thankfully forgotten. Thanks being given to the Divine and for the mothers who created us into a world made better for it.