September 21, 2008

Finally–cooler weather (temps in the 80s).  Yesterday’s temp felt so wonderful that I set about weeding a flower bed that used to be my pride and glory.  Now it’s a weedbed, so it seems.  Due to some health issues, I wasn’t able to do as much yardwork back in the spring and it really shows.  However, there were some pleasant surprises in that flowerbed–some cosmos that had sprung up on their own and were blooming, a pentas I’d planted and forgotten, and a couple of marigolds. 

A lot of weeds got pulled, so I feel I accomplished something in that bed.  I’ve even got some giant blisters from trying to pull some that had rooted really well.  Wearing gloves is not something I like to do because I enjoy the feel of the dirt on my hands and it’s easier for me to distinguish between weeds and “real” plants sometimes by touch.  My former orthopedist would be proud that I didn’t battle any 9-foot tall weeds this time; however, I was mighty proud when I ended up winning that war and got that darned weed roots and all. 

All of the rose bushes are loaded with new growth so I’ve got to get those fertilized.  So far, I’ve got 16 rose bushes (everything from new hybrid teas to old garden roses) and several miniatures.  I love roses and am sure I inherited that from my Italian grandfather.  Grandpa had the most beautiful roses–red, white, yellow, and pink.  He did all of the gardening–roses and vegetables.  He planted hot Hungarian wax peppers for Grandma to include with his spaghetti sauce, tomatoes for the sauce, and green beans.  He took such great pride in his garden that it’s depressing to look at it now.  Grandpa passed away 6 years ago and Grandma just isn’t physically able to take care of the roses and the vegetable garden is no more.  An uncle prunes the roses in the spring, but he can’t baby them like Grandpa did.

There won’t be any battling with the yard next weekend since I’ll be at an archaeological conference.  I’m pretty sure those darned, pesky weeds will still be there when I get back.  Drat!

September 11, 2008

Today is my older niece’s birthday; she’s 13.  Niña isn’t her name but it’s what I always called her. 

My younger brother had an instant family when he married as my niece was 2 years old.  She’d been raised in Mexico and knew no English when she came to Texas, yet her young mind absorbed the language very quickly (especially the cursewords, which taught me to mind my potty-mouth!).   At first, she was very quiet and shy, but within a few months she came out of her shell and was so much fun.  She was my parents’ first grandchild and was quickly on the path to being spoiled rotten.

When she’d come visit, I’d take her to movies and shopping.  I came to dread taking her to the mall as she wanted to be spritzed by every perfume sprayer in every department store.  Sometimes that little girl smelled so awful from all of the competing perfumes and I’d have to put the windows down as we drove back to Grandma and Grandpa’s. 

She’s been the inspiration for many of young Little Joe’s antics in my prequel stories.   A very curious child, she’d ask question after question until I felt my brain would implode.  Sometimes, she could talk non-stop for hours and I often wondered if she talked in her sleep (lol).  My mom would complain that her ears hurt from the silence after she’d gone home. 

At the age of 5, her goal in life was to join the Marines so she could buy a little red pickup truck and then she’d become a singer like Selena.  After starting school, her goal changed to becoming a teacher like her daddy and a singer like Selena. 

One thing I found so amazing was the way she’d slip between English and Spanish when talking.  Her brain made no distinction between the two languages and she’d say whatever her thought was in either language.  Sometimes, she’d be talking away in English and switch to Spanish in mid-sentence without even realizing it.  For a child partially raised outside of the U.S., she quickly developed a strong Texas twang, which gave me the giggles sometimes. 

My brother and his wife divorced a couple of years ago and the judge told my brother he had no parental rights when it came to his step-daughter.  His ex-wife has made sure that her daughter has had no contact with the only father she’s ever known or any of us.  We miss her so much.  I hope that someday I’ll get to see her again.

My birthday wish for her is that she’s having a good life, is doing well in school, and has lots of friends to celebrate this day with.    Happy Birthday, Niña!!!!

September 7, 2008

Hmmm….the majority of my stories are prequels.  I find it harder to write about Adam, Hoss, and Joe as adults than I do as what they may have been like as children.  How….odd. 

I so wish we could have gotten that follow-up episode with Marie!  Despite their romance in Marie My Love, my imagination tells me she and Ben had a passionate relationship and he was giddy in love with her.  Since both were experienced lovers, I think they found ways to please each other intimately.  

Part of the appeal (for me) of writing prequels set during the Ben-Marie marriage is a two-parent household with a teenager in the house.  Adam must have been a real pain in the behind for both parents at times as his hormones surged and he found ways to delight in rebellion.  He must have gotten into some serious mischief with the Bonner brothers as well as Ross Marquette.  Hoss finally gets to experience life with two parents and Adam again has a mother who only has his best interests at heart.  Young Little Joe must have been absolutely adored by parents and siblings and spoiled rotten by them all.    

For me, the challenge of writing prequels is developing believable behaviors that were reflected in the adult characters.  Adam must have been fairly set in his ways when Marie entered the household and his stubbornness was probably well established.  Young Little Joe probably found it easy to wrap his parents and brothers around his little finger to get what he wanted or to convince Hoss to help him with a scheme of some sort.  Hoss must have been a very caring and easy-going child, since Adam remarks in The Scapegoat that his brother had “been bringing home strays since he could walk.”  Ben has a temper and I think all three sons inherited a good bit of it and Joe got an extra helping from his mother. 

As parents, Ben and Marie would have wanted the best for all three boys and, since the Ponderosa was an established cattle ranch with timber operations probably beginning, they could afford to indulge the boys when they wanted.  I see Ben as the type of parent who can easily discipline one of his children by tone of voice combined with a look rather than spanking, though he probably had to resort to that occasionally with his boys.  Marie wouldn’t have let the boys run wild and be trouble makers, but she probably turned a blind eye to their behavior every once in a while.  I see her sending the boys to their rooms or assigning extra chores rather than disciplining them physically.

When he got to the age where he appreciated girls, Adam was probably glad to have Marie in his life so he had someone to turn to for advice.  I think she taught all three boys to respect women and treat them as ladies, no matter their station in life. 

Marie’s influence on Adam, Hoss, and Joe must have been long-lasting even though her marriage to Ben was brief (longer than Elizabeth’s or Inger’s, though).

What Happened Instead

• A Tangled Web (Inspired by The Lady From Baltimore)
• A Hatful of Guilt (Inspired by No Less A Man)
• Devil’s Bargain (Inspired by Death at Dawn)
• Fevered Dreams (Inspired by The Savage)

What Happened Next

• The Swedish Grizzly (Some missing scenes for Old Sheba)
• Ponderosa Pachyderm (WHN for Old Sheba)
• No More Security (WHN for The Hayburner)
• Seeds of Doubt (WHN for The Lawmaker)

September 6, 2008

I really thought my submitted story would be lucky to make its way into the “maybe” pile.  Instead, the judges selected it for publication!  I’m honestly over-the-moon because I’ve never thought my writing was “up to snuff” when compared with so many super-talented authors out there. 

So far, I’ve written 39 stories, yet quantity doesn’t always equate with quality.

Some episodes just seem to have huge plotholes that beg for a What Happened Instead (WHI) story.  For me, one of those was The Lady From Baltimore.  Adam and Joe have disagreed before but why did Adam ask Pa if he could leave for Tucson after being seen kissing Melinda?  From the beginning, she was fascinated with Adam even though her mother insisted that she trap Joe into proposing.  It didn’t make much sense to me that Adam would leave (and take Hoss with him), which is why I wrote a WHI where Melinda decided to accuse Adam of trying to rape her when Joe and Ben came upon them kissing at the forge. 

Some stories seemed as if they should have continued for an extra scene (or maybe several) or had a sequel.  I really wish the Cartwrights had kept Sheba for a while, so I wrote a What Happened Next (WHN) where the elephant was used for harvesting timber for a railroad contract.

I’ll be posting the motivation(s) for my WHIs/WHNs here.

September 5, 2008

Four days without electricity (thanks to Hurricane Gustav) gave me plenty of time to ponder life.  There were no distractions–no TV channels to change when commercials came on, no internet to surf, no DVD player for movies (or Bonanza), no microwave to zap some food when I was hungry.  It was just me, the cats, and the battery-powered radio.  The radio was my only link to the outside world and the only information I got from it was what was happening here in Baton Rouge and other parts of Louisiana following the hurricane.

I could keep busy during the day–reading books that have been begging to be opened, writing a bit here and there, and taking naps.  It was at night, though, that absolute boredom set in.  There was no one to play cards with (no wonder it’s called Solitaire), very little light to read by (thank goodness for the little reading light from Books-A-Million!), no TV, and no neighbors to talk to since many left for relatives’ places where modern conveniences were available.  Going outside was guaranteed to provide a buffet for the mosquitos and all of the clouds meant that there were no stars to gaze at. 

Being so spoiled by modern appliances makes me realize that I’m a wimp.  My mother grew up dirt poor on a farm–no electricity, no running water, no indoor plumbing (and that was in the 1940s!).  I craved the chill created by the air conditioner and the cool air swirled around by the ceiling fan.  At times, I stared at the ceiling fan as if I could will it to start spinning again.  The high point of one day was plugging the microwave into the generator so I could heat up a burrito–a pleasant change from peanut butter, crackers, and Pop Tarts. 

Cold showers were absolutely no fun!  At least Joe was willing to lug bucket after bucket of hot water up the stairs so guests could bathe.  I had no way to heat water and so wished that the stove ran on gas instead of electricity.  With no air conditioning, the humidity in the house was horrible, so even a cold shower didn’t provide much relief.   

I am truly a spoiled child of the 20th century.  The Cartwrights make “the good old days” look so easy (of course the magic of TV has lots to do with that!).

September 1, 2008

Before starting kindergarten, my older niece would say “dood” instead of did.  My heart nearly broke the day I said to her, “I dood it,” and she said, “It’s not dood!  It’s did.” 

I debated and dithered about submitting a story for the 2009 Bonanza Fan Fiction Anthology.  Several plot bunnies have hopped into and out of my head since the call for stories went out earlier this year.  Every time I thought, “I’ll write that one,” I’d think, “Nah, I’m not a good enough writer to have a story selected for the anthology.” 

Saturday, I had the pleasure of meeting another fan and we talked about the convention and the anthology contest.  Told her I was thinking about writing a story and she encouraged me to submit one.  On the way home, I thought about what she’d said and realized I’d always wonder, “What if?” if I didn’t send in a story for consideration.

I finally decided Saturday evening to put a story together and I finished it yesterday afternoon.  The hardest part was actually submitting it.  I got an e-mail saying the story was received and hopefully I’ll know something in a couple of weeks or so.  Even if it’s not accepted I know I gave it a shot, so I can’t sit and wonder years from now, “What if?”  Instead, I dood it!!