I Need A Platform?

When I started writing, I had no idea that it would take years of trial and (mostly) error to even finish one manuscript. And, that completing a novel was just the beginning. The hard work comes after that. A story has to be shaped and edited and vetted. There were times when I just gave up. It was too much work on top of being overwhelmed with job and family tasks.

To date, I’ve finished three novels, two of which will never see the light of day. The third is being commented on by a few trusted “beta” readers who, hopefully, will catch the mistakes I missed. After they are finished, it gets another round with a brilliant copy editor. Then the fork meets the grits. I’ll have to start sending out query letters to agents and publishers. 

While I’m waiting for all this to unfold, the word at conferences and critique groups is: you need to build an “author platform” on social media sites. Great, but where do I start? Which ones? What works the best? How much time does it take?

If it were built with nails and boards, no problem. The Hunter has built shooting houses, tree stands, and a chicken ark. But, the raw materials for a social media platform are things like Facebook, Twitter and blogs. That’s one of the reasons I started writing this one. That, and I wanted to show off my new chickens.

Any time you build something you need to have a blueprint or at least a plan. Building a social media platform seemed like an overwhelming task. To add to the confusion, the traditional publishing industry is in a state of flux right now because anybody can write a “book” and fling it up for sale on Amazon/Kindle.

You know that old saying, when the student is ready the teacher will appear? I can tell you it holds true in this case. I don’t even remember where I came across Kristen Lamb's blog, but reading it has taken some of the anxiety out of trying to build a social media platform. She also blogs about the craft of writing, the state of the publishing industry and other subjects writers love to read about while we are procrastinating, I mean studying.

Kristen also offers what I needed the most, a detailed plan of how to build a social media platform, an e-book called, We Are Not Alone. I’m making my way through it, step by small step. When my “work in progress” is ready to be unleashed onto unsuspecting agents and publishers, I’ll be ready!  

   

When Hunting Doesn't Go As Planned

Next weekend is the end of dog hunting at Wolf Creek so we're trying to make each hunt count. The Hunter took a friend from Auburn, Alabama on Saturday and got a spike buck. He had to fight a black and tan hound named Oscar for it, but brought home the hindquarters and backstraps. I can see a little Zatarain's breading and an cast iron skillet in my future.

My dad and I went with him on Sunday. The forecast was for rain in the afternoon, but somebody forgot to tell the clouds they weren't supposed to arrive until after lunch. 

Neither The Hunter nor I had any rain gear, but, as usual, Daddy was prepared. Folded up in the pocket of his jacket was a poncho he got from some kind of US Steel promotion, almost fifty years ago! About the time they let the dogs loose it started to rain. 

I had my video camera with me and shot this little montage of my thoughts on the morning. Unfortunately, that's all I shot...

 

Dog hunters use walkie-talkie radios to let everybody know when the dogs are let loose and which way they're headed. That's helpful if you can't hear the dogs. The only problem is: you have to know where you are. There are spots at this club called The Refrigerator, Ax Road and Double Buck. If you don't know that a refrigerator was dumped at a certain place thirty years ago or where Sammy killed two bucks with one shot, you are just outta luck. Of course, I usually don't have a clue where I'm standing, but it is entertaining to listen to them talk sometimes.

"I heard a shot over by The Lake. Who's over there?"

"I think it's John."

"What'd 'e get?

"A tree."

Even though the hunt was shortened by rain, it was so much fun to be with my dad. He's the one who taught me to "roll with the punches" while I was growing up, and we certainly had to do that on Sunday.

Hunt 'Im Up!

When Fear Cheoil morphed into The Hunter this year, he joined a new club much closer to the house. Wolf Creek Hunting Club has three tracts and a little over 3400 acres.  They also hunt deer with dogs on the weekends. I've never had that kind of a hunting experience and it's been many years since he has. It's much more social and you don't have to sit in a tree stand and freeze for hours at a time. I went once before the holiday craziness started and then again this past Saturday.

One thing I did to make hunting a little more comfortable: I went shopping at Bass Pro Shop in Leeds, Alabama, and bought some hunting gear that is actually made for women. I've always just worn whatever The Hunter wasn't using or has, um, outgrown. Anyway, I got a pair of camo fleece pants, gloves and cap. The pants are not at all slimming, but they fit better than The Hunter's old camo overalls and they kept me warm.

 My new female friendly camo gear.

One of the best aspects of this club is that they don't start until about seven am. That seems very civilized to me. While I am a morning person, between the hours of three and six am, I'm really, really cranky. It was nice that I didn't have to make my way to a tree stand and climb into it without making a sound, in the pitch blackness of the predawn hours. 

All the hunters load into the back of pickup trucks and get dropped off at 100 yard intervals along the prearranged club road. Then, they load the dogs up, take them to a couple of places close-by and turn them loose. The dogs find deer and drive them toward the hunters. At least that's the idea, anyway. The drivers and dog handlers coordinate by two way radio and the hunters can listen in. If somebody sees a deer running they tell everybody which way it's headed. Kind of like a deer hunting play by play. I could also hear the dogs baying and barking through the woods. Sometimes the dogs don't jump deer, they run rabbits. I find it fascinating that the dog's owners can tell which dog is following what. 

 A Beagle mix and a Black and Tan are ready to run a deer, 

or maybe a rabbit, or maybe just run.

There are Beagles, Black and Tan Hounds, some Walker Hounds and a Blue Tick or two, plus several dogs of uncertain mixture. The one thing that unites them all, though, is hunting. They bark and whine and howl to be let out and run. We did two runs that morning then broke for lunch. When we got back they were planning another run for the afternoon. 

As you can imagine, hunting is still a man's world kind of place. I know to just kind of hang back and watch what's going on. Sooner or later they'll get used to me. As a matter of fact, one of them nicknamed me "Double Barrel" because I use The Hunter's vintage double barreled shotgun, instead of a pump like everybody else. 

I was standing in a patch of sunlight trying to warm up a little while they planned the afternoon run, when the only other woman hunter came up and introduced herself as Evelyn. She's from Pennsylvania but has been in Alabama since 1977. She is an avid hunter and even has a trailer at the camp. We didn't get to talk long because they started loading up for the afternoon run, but it was nice of her to reach out to me. 

 

 Me and Evelyn. The white trailer in the background is hers.

They will only be running the dogs until the middle of January, then it's stand/stalk hunting only until the end of January. I hope my nickname sticks until next season.

Karen and Robin Get The Boot

One of the good things about  being a school bus driver is that you get two weeks off at Christmas. The week before is spent putting up decorations, shopping, and planning the family get together. Combined, all those activities take up all the available time and air in the room. However, the week after, I pay myself back. One of my favorite things to do is go to lunch with my friend, Robin. We usually try somewhere neither one of us has been. 

The Boot at Preserve Village.

On Thursday we tried a new place with the unlikely name of The Boot, which comes from this quote:

"This Boot was a lone house of public entertainment... several people drinking there, and great merriment going on."

-- Charles Dickens, Barnaby Rudge

 

It's a small, neighborhood restaurant, describing itself as "fast casual". You go to a counter to order but they bring it to the table when it's ready. They have sandwiches, burgers, salads and shrimp. Most of the food is locally grown and they serve crafted beer.

When we got there on Thursday, they were working on a large order and asked if we would wait for a few minutes while they filled it. We got soft drinks  and sat at the table in front of the cozy fire place at one end of the dining area. The owner, Mike McCowan stopped by the table and chatted for a few minutes while we waited.

Very cozy.

We had an appetizer of NOLA shrimp, which is barbecued shrimp over grits. It has a sweet/spicy sauce. It's very yummy. 

 

  

 Shrimp NOLA.

Robin ordered a Pecanwood bacon cheeseburger on ciabatta roll. I had a Smokey Pimento Cheeseburger on ciabatta roll. They came with a choice of fries and one side. The fries are a combination of white and sweet potato fries with home made chips. I got the fresh fruit with walnuts and granola. The burger was juicy and cooked medium.

Pecanwood Cheeseburger.

 

 Smokey Pimento Cheeseburger.

We enjoyed the food and the atmosphere. I would like to take Fear Cheoil back for dinner one evening and try some of the craft beers. They have happy hour from 4-6 on Tuesday thru Saturday. There are specials in the evening, some of them are announced on their Facebook page and you can find the daily menu and other information at The Boot at Preserve Village.

These days, chain restaurants and franchises seem to be the most common dining options around. It is very refreshing to find a place that isn't looking to be the next big thing, but is more interested in serving fresh, local food. That describes The Boot at Preserve Village.

Chattanooga

It's been a long time since I've written a post, but things in the Empty Nest have been busy! 

Fear Cheoil and I traveled up to Chattanooga, Tennessee for our anniversary in November. My sister lived there for a few years and it's one of my favorite places to visit. The downtown area is alive and busy every time I've been there. With so many fun activities to choose from sometimes it's hard to make a decision, but we opted for a dinner cruise on The Southern Belle. The food was delicious and it was peaceful to sit on the deck and watch the stars and city lights roll by.

This psyched me out because it wasn't the boat. It was the pier. 

The boat was on the other side where the smoke stacks are.

On Sunday, we walked around downtown for a little while. It was the first weekend in November and the leaves were at peak performance.

'Nuff said...

The Hunter Museum of American Art. Or maybe a space ship?

 

Walking from the Hunter Museum toward the Tennessee Aquarium.

Fear Cheoil makes a new friend.

 Pedestrian bridge across the Tennessee River.

The success of downtown Chattanooga is inspiring. It has taken a huge amount of dedication, collaboration and money to bring this kind of change about. There is a lot of history here. Some of it positive and some of it heart breaking. The city of Chattanooga embraces it all.

Old Baker Farm

I took a group of kindergardeners from Shades Mountain Elementary School on a field trip Friday. It's been a long time since I've been in amongst that many five year olds. Most of them had never been on a bus before and the first few curves and bumps the bus encountered caused a reaction similar to a flock of startled starlings.

Of course they had to sing all the verses of "The Wheels on the Bus"(go wound and wound) .  It was a little noisy but since I drive middle school students, I'm used to it. The destination was Old Baker Farm near Harpersville, Alabama, just a forty minute drive from the school.

The farm has been a homestead since before Alabama was even a state, and is still run as a family farm. They raise cotton, corn, and pumpkins. I followed along as the kids got the tour. They got to go through the barn where they were introduced to: 

 a lamb, 

a rabbit, chickens, geese, 

 some loud gobbling turkeys, ducks,

 goats, sheep, donkeys and a horse. 

They took a hay ride and picked out pumpkins to take home.

I stayed back at the barn and got up close and personal with a couple of jersey calves.

 

Somebody feed me!

If we put our heads together we can figure out

how to get her to feed us!

There were a good number of chickens of course. What farm would be complete without a few feathered yard ornaments? They had what looked like a Red Star, a New Hampshire Red, some Barred Plymouth Rocks and some Light Brahmas.

The farm is open to the public on weekends in October, offering families and groups hayrides, horse rides, corn and hay mazes, a Civil War re-enactment and Indian festival dancing. Check out the website for specific dates and activities.

It was a lot of fun. In fact, I might try to talk Fear an Cheoil into going down there before he morphs into The Hunter in the middle of November.

Lessons From My Grandparents

As I was packing my lunch to drive a field trip the other day, I took a cold canned drink out of the fridge and wrapped it in a couple of thicknesses of paper towels, then in a layer of aluminum foil. It struck me that my grandmother used to do exactly the same thing and in fact that is where I learned it from. At times like these I miss my grandmother and feel thankful for all the life lessons she and my other grandparents passed along.

With the economy tanking more every day, it is kind of comforting for me to remember that all of them lived through The Great Depression. It may have been a little easier for them since most of them were farmers and could at least grow their own food. Even after they all left the farm to work in the city, they brought that same sense of independence and self reliance with them.

Their houses weren't fancy, but they were clean, comfortable and paid for. The same went for their cars. They both had a vegetable patch in their backyard for growing tomatoes and strawberries, mostly. One of my grandfathers taught me how to make a compost bin and the other showed me that just because you had open heart surgery doesn't mean you can't play softball at the family reunion.

These weren't lessons they beat me over the head with. Instead, they were spread out like a warm, comfortable quilt, practical, useful and even colorful. It's not that there wasn't any turmoil in their lives, but those times were weathered under that same quilt, with patience and faith in God.

I'm not a grandparent yet, but when I do get the chance, I hope I can pass that same quilt along to my grandchildren.