Because I have been a lousy typist for 50 of my more than 70 years, but have managed to put thousands of words on paper, I like to imagine I’m a writer by default. If not, I’ve just been wasting a lot of time and stationery. Still, it’s kept me entertained. And playing God on paper has convinced me of the range of interactions and situational ironies humans are capable of putting themselves in. For the most part, though, when writing (or typing fiction), “exploring the human condition” is seldom a priority, as I’m pretty sure it can muddle along just fine without my intervention. Mostly, I’m just out for a good time. And if mine makes your better, too, we’ve both won.
Excerpt from “Atlantis: The Isle of Horses” — My name in that life was Al-Ya. I was born on the Isle of Horses, the only island in Atlantis that afforded the freedom to have an unconventional and pleasurable childhood, given who I was, and the body I inhabited. I was many times blessed in that life, though few would have thought so. Born a woman, then as now not the dominant gender, but a good thing for me none-the-less. Born a man, I would have been expected to take my father’s place on the Council, a position that would have put me under too much scrutiny given my appearance.
The Shaman Tree: A Tale of the Tillamook is the story of the Tillamook people seen through the eyes of Tuckwoca, a young Indian woman. The novel begins in 1788 with Tuckwoca’s spirit search and her marriage to Swohas, and ends with her death seventy years later. This imagined tale was written to enliven the relics and research of Tillamook history and customs. Hopefully, the next time you see a hummingbird you will pause and think of Tuckwoca and her people.
“Why did you do this to us? Why take dying and dead minds and force them on unwilling and random people?” Her voice did not raise, but the few physical items in the room began to shake, and the air took on a distinct smell of sulphur. “Why not just let us live normal lives? Why burden us with this?” Suddenly, the small chamber felt crowded as the rest of the twelve Pseudo-Reincarnated young men and woman appeared behind Cojiñí. So… she would need backup, perhaps?
Eighth-grader, Alec Ponders, is furious when a skinhead white power gang uses property damage, racist graffiti, and hate fliers to vandalize his hometown of West Valley, a multi-ethnic suburb of Los Angeles. They threaten his non-white and mixed-race friends, especially his Latina crush—the girl next door.
Kathryn Carlson’s gift to her granddaughter, Myndi, for her college graduation is an all-expense-paid road trip for Myndi and her dog, Ginger. It is Grandma Kate’s wish that Myndi’s adventure include numerous historic places throughout the Western United States. The gift is a trip Myndi’s grandmother had always longed to take for herself. But a series of odd coincidences occur along the route that Grandma Kate helped Myndi plan—a journey that eventually leads Myndi to solve a secret that festered for a quarter of a century.
Deep within the majestic Eagle Cap Wilderness of Northeastern Oregon, a handful of vacationers assemble to unwind—in ways both beneficial and detrimental. Family secrets and behaviors forged by unfortunate experiences shed light on current motivations and personalities. Can traits change through the interplay of family and strangers?
“The mostly true stories in the first section of this book are reasonably accurate, although in several cases the truth has been rubber-banded. Interspersed are short stories composed entirely of lies. Plus, I’ve sprinkled in a few poems because poetry slows us down, forcing us to take time to ponder. Pondering seems to be in short supply these days.”