I tried to sign up but “the recipient has too many requests.” You’re a popular gal Paula😃

Here’s the first few paragraphs:

I nearly topple out of the old VW van, the exhaust fumes, stinging the fir-laced mid August sun. “Damned dog.” He managed to squeeze out the window during a low, slow turn up the mountain. We had an argument that morning about a quick jaunt to the lake to chase the birds. My dog does that; talk to me, as do most animals. ‘Industry hazard’ is what I call it. No matter, my weird little tribe gets me and why we call ourselves the Hippie Gypsies. I fit in, in a way my family never understood. I guess they’d rather I stay home and bake cookies. My kids are grown, their kids are grown, and I have done my duty as a grounded parent. Now it’s my turn. Nah, I rather prefer deeper, kinder conversations with four-legged species, my patchouli scented scarves, and small town after small town after small town. My service is to the animals, which is a good thing since they seek me out to vent and be heard in a way no one else can. Squinting in the sun, listening for the dog, all I can hear is the low buzz of the forest insects weaving and dancing around us, to check us out as the newcomers. “ Hang tight, guys. I’ll be right back,” I sigh to the group before heading into shadows of the trees to find my missing friend. I finally spot him, head down, teeth bared, and growling low. What he didn’t find, were the birds.

I took a writing class in high school and again in college but that was a very long time ago. What put me off from exploring more into it is my vocabulary isn’t very vast so I tend to repeat myself a lot. It doesn’t make for great storytelling. I am fine knowing I could never be a famous beloved author of all NYC bestseller-listed novels. I prefer to read what I love such as books like you write 🙂

Here’s a start! This activity is really cool Paula.

Who Knew?

           Randel’s Corner, Louisiana, never saw one like her and likely never would again. Just two miles south of New Orleans, Randel’s Corner would sprint past you if you drove too fast. Better yet, walking to town in thigh high boots gets you to the finest scenery ever…if swampy greens and the aroma of rotten eggs are your idea of solace.
           Turns out, smelly swampy greens don’t attract tourist’s because gift shops are nonexistent and the only souvenirs that leave RC are welts from the mosquitos who never take a vacation.
           Dr. Tafia McNally, the only doctor willing and able to care for Randel’s hurt, sick and dying citizens for the past thirty years since 1990 is now gone. Certainly not forgotten though.
           Not dead mind you, retired. We at the Corner figured she wanted rest from caring too much for us and fearing too much, the snakes. Why in heck she chose to move into our snake infested berg we’ll never know. Lord knows she incessantly waded through craggy, muddy and brackish water rippling with those buggers and was never bitten. All of RC has been bitten at least twice. From newborn to a hundred, we’ve all felt the tooth on ankle, arm, and butt.
           She could have worked anywhere what with all her uppity education and experience. We heard she’d traveled the world to teach on the latest advances in brain surgery. Handy with the knife that one. Used it often on us and yes of course, the snakes. As a favor to the Corner, she’d capture, skin, and slice and dice our local staple for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Never ever did she eat one morsel.