James Parry’s semi-fictionalized (10%, give or take) memoir of the last five years of his thirty-year career as a middle school educator is at once, both hilarious and sobering. Hilarious as only middle school (or Jr. High) with all the hormones, awkwardness, and antics can be. And sobering when Parry masterfully lays bare the true plight of teachers everywhere dealing with bureaucracy, poverty, and a lack of parental involvement. However, despite the sometimes heavy content, Parry’s acerbic and occasionally goofy wit, keeps this book readable and entertaining.
The book begins on an average school day in Parry’s twenty-fifth year of teaching. When he arrives at work he finds the head custodian quickly changing a spray painted, “F**k All The Teachers” into “Book All The Teachers” with his own can of spray paint. At first Parry is upset by the graffiti until he turns the corner to find the colorful epithet continued on to say “Excep Parry.” Deciding this is the best possible compliment from a middle school hoodlum, we then watch James “…float through the door, skip down the back hall, pirouette through the gymnasium, and do the happy dance as I (he) enter(s) the public office.”
This first introduction into Parry’s world is a good example of the ups and downs throughout the book. Middle school has always been a roller coaster ride for the kids (as I’m sure we all remember), but James Bartlett Parry gives us a look at that wild ride from the teachers end of things. Due to the nature of the middle school experience, Parry has included a WARNING section before the Contents page. I believe it is worthy of being included here verbatim.
“WARNING – With its adolescent humor, convoluted sentence structure and many asides, the book is best enjoyed when accompanied by a bottle — or box — of cheap wine; or, perhaps Ice-house Beer would be a more fitting compliment. If you like parentheses, em-dashes, commas, and semicolons (and, hey, who doesn’t?), you’ll love this book.”
Hey everyone, if you’ve been looking forward to Volume 2 of the Luna Chronicles – Lilac City Lunacy, here’s a quick snippet to whet your appetite. An unedited scene with our favorite werewolf sheriff, Stan McKenna. Enjoy!
Spokane County Sheriff, Stan McKenna was having a bad week. A bad month if he were to be honest. The Lilac city, as Spokane was known, was inundated with hostility. Small fights had been breaking out more and more frequently. At first, Stan had chalked it up to increased gang activity and people working out the agitation of cabin fever after such a harsh winter. There was always a period between the winter chill and summer heat criminals took advantage of, but things had continued to happen.
He realized something was truly messed up when he responded to what he thought was a prank call. There were a few on the force that might feel they owed him payback for bringing in donuts glazed with sour sugar and jalapeno dust. His fellow officer’s faces had both mottled and puckered while they cursed him out roundly. At the time he’d laughed so hard he thought he might have strained something, so he wouldn’t put it past his fellow officers to create a strange scenario just to mess with him. Unfortunately when he pulled up in front of his aunt Gena’s Sew Easy Too fabric shop, what he saw through the big front window was no joke.
Four old women were facing off with each other. Two against two, all hollering at the top of their lungs while brandishing knitting needles. One of the ladies stepped forward and poked her opponent as Stan was getting out of his car. He moved faster when the poked woman’s eyes grew wild and her knitting hand turned the needle from a parrying position to a thrusting position. Good grief, she might just kill someone! The chimes above the doorway tinkled loudly as he entered. The sound distracted the women just long enough for him to place himself in the middle of the group. He unleashed a touch of Alpha charm hoping to diffuse the situation then put his hands up and spun in a small circle to smile at every one of them. His physical size forced them all to step back a bit. “Now, ladies. What’s going on here?”
he’d expected the torrent of clucking, spluttering, ferociousness that would
spew from them he’d never have asked. At first,
he couldn’t make out a word they were saying. After a moment he was sorry he
could. He heard phrases drop from their sweet, grandmotherly lips that he hoped
he’d never hear again. Betty White couldn’t do as well if she were fully drunk
and witnessed someone beating their dog. There are just some things you can’t
un-hear and Stan was wishing for a gallon of brain bleach when he finally
caught onto a thread of the real problem. They were arguing over whose
grandchildren were the smartest!
almost started laughing at how ridiculous it was, but as they continued arguing
those knitting needles were again put into use. One of the ladies, a 4’9″
Latina with dyed brown hair in a loose bun, reached around him with her shiny
red implement to prod another woman. He thought he heard one of them call the
poker, Rosalinda, and the pokee, Agnes.
Rosalinda was wearing a soft pink t-shirt and black shorts. Her target, Agnes,
had short silvery hair and big coke bottle glasses. She was wearing a white, short-sleeved blouse and khaki slacks. She was
also holding a long, olive green knitting needle low and at the ready.
other two women facing off looked like twins. Both stooped with age, they had
short, curly, gray hair and baby blue eyes. One had a pair of glasses dangling
from a chain, the other had them propped on top of her head. Both were wearing
floral pattern cotton dresses topped by pale blue, loosely knit cardigans and both had short wooden knitting needles.
From the cacophony of bickering, he
plucked the names, Janet and Jess, before he’d finally had enough.
himself to his full 6’5″ height, Stan quickly plucked the knitting needles
away from each woman, put his hands on his hips and shouted.
four women turned their eyes upon him and if he hadn’t been such a big man, or
a Sheriff, or a Guardian, Stan might have run away. Instead, he cleared his throat and with all the authority he could
muster he tried to reason with them. “Ladies. . .
A couple of months ago I ran a thread on Twitter asking Indie Authors to send links to their books. Happily, my TBR pile grew quite a bit! M.G. Nelson’s YA fantasy, The Telling Mirror, was one of many on my now long reading list and I’m so glad Nelson posted it!
How much trouble can a rebellious teen and her cat get into? Oh, so much.
Signe Erickson’s parents are gone. Her father left years ago. Her mother lost to drugs is undergoing rehab. Now Signe – Sig for short – lives ungratefully with her Aunt Char and Uncle Dan, on their farm. Acting out in various ways she’s stretching her families patience to the max, testing them at every turn. When Dan finally confronts her she runs to her quiet place only to end up stumbling into another world. Just her and the annoying barn cat, Reggie, who is no longer a cat.
Together, Sig and Reggie must cross this new land and search out Sig’s father. How he ended up here they really don’t know, but then again, they don’t know how they got here either! Setting out with nothing but the clothes on their backs, a flashlight, a backpack, and a plastic baggie carrying $200 cash they begin their treacherous trek into the unknown.
This grand adventure is filled with dangerous travels, creepy characters, brave warriors, evil royals, kind commoners, fairies, centaurs, giants, and more! Reminiscent of both The Wizard of Oz and The Narnia Chronicles, it is filled with good lessons about self-reliance, kindness to others, determination, sacrifice, and faith. This book, first in The Telling Mirror Series, is one I would feel good sharing with my kids.
Clara Grey notices things. Things nobody else will allow themselves to see. It is this ability, this willingness to believe, that makes Miss Grey the perfect candidate for training to be a monster hunter.
In Chartres’ story we follow Clara from her early childhood traumas, through years of rigorous academic and religious training in the Tower, and eventually into adulthood with all its temptation, danger, and twists of fate. Inquisitive, intelligent, bold, and brave, Miss Grey ends up traveling the world via the mystical portals of the Tower’s Terminus, seeking out monsters to slay. She’s learned her lessons well and is a force to be reckoned with. Like the books tag line states, “A gal has to look out for herself after all.”
Well written and smart, The Van Helsing Paradox is a fresh take on monster hunting and monster hunters. In it Chartres has built a world simmering with intrigue and violence. A world at war both politically and spiritually. Set around the time of World War 1, the readers are plunged into layer after layer of horror and discovery.
If you are looking for a good summer read (or fall, or winter, or whatever!) pick up The Van Helsing Paradox today! **link below** https://g.co/kgs/fCdyPk
Not sure how many of you use Twitter, but I’m on there everyday and I follow the Spokane Authors & Self-Publishers account. They don’t post every day but when they do, it’s usually pretty fun. Well this time they’ve started a May writers challenge, the Sunday Image Prompt. Click the link for original post. https://twitter.com/AndAuthors/status/1125154547083530242
The #SundayImagePrompt promises a new, strange image to write about every week. Here’s their first image prompt. Fun huh?
Well, after seeing this, I just HAD to take them up on the challenge. Enjoy my entry below, and if you like it, I may just continue the story! *********************************************************
Gerald picked up and hefted his great grandfather’s sword a few times. Not his usual weapon, it felt strange and unwieldy in his paw. Still, despite his lack of experience, he knew it was time to join the fight to save his beloved homeland. He shoved the blade into it’s sheath and tied it tightly to his pack before grabbing one more acorn for the road. As he chewed, he looked around at his home knowing he may never see it again.
His bed looked strangely naked, it’s coverlet stashed in his pack. His tool chest closed and locked for the first time in years also looked odd. Due to the commanders weight restrictions for backpacks he’d had to leave the tools of his trade at home. Though, he did make one concession and brought along his favorite wrench. (A squirrel never knew when he’d have to loosen the odd tough nut!) The desk, usually a disorganized mess, was now neatly arranged. His neighbor, Ruth, had promised to take care of his affairs while he was gone and he wanted to make it easy for her. Cleaning that up had been a major task, of course, nothing like what he was heading to. Stories from the front lines had been bleak, at best.
One last bite of acorn and Gerald knew it was time to leave. His precious books lined the walls around him. Many, worn by time, lent a distinguished warmth to his home. Others, still shiny and new, graced his to-be-read shelf. To those he silently promised to return. Gerald loved his books. Through them he’d learned much and lived many adventures, but now it was time to embark on a real one. With a last sorrowful glance, he closed the door to his comfy home and began the long walk to the training camp.
On the second day of his journey, a young jack rabbit stumbled into the road ahead of him. Upon seeing Gerald, the rabbit waved and hollered, “Hullo there! Is this the road to Commander Coyote’s basic training camp?”
“Why, yes it is. I’m headed there myself.”
The jack rabbit gave Gerald a buck toothed grin. “Great! Do you mind if I travel with you?”
“Not at all. I’d appreciate the company. My name is Gerald. What’s yours?”
“Nice to meet you, Gerald,” the rabbit extended a paw, “my name is Conrad.”
The two shook paws before resuming their trek and Conrad resumed speaking.
“I take it you don’t have a mount either?”
Gerald grimaced. “No, I used to have a tree frog, but she met an unfortunate end when a flock of cranes decided to take a break and landed all around her.”
Conrad shuddered. “Oh that’s horrid. I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you,” Gerald sighed. “She was a faithful frog, but she was old and had started to wander further and further from the paddock. It was bound to happen eventually.”
Conrad nodded knowingly. After a moment of silence he asked, “Did you hear about the mounts on the battlefield?”
When Gerald shook his head the rabbit continued. “I heard that all sorts of mounts are available but they only ever award mounts to the best of the best, and rather than the soldier choosing their mount, the mount chooses them!”
When Gerald looked askance at Conrad, he shrugged. “Hey, I’m just repeating what I’ve heard. It’s weird though, isn’t it? How would a mount choose it’s rider?”
“Maybe it’s magic.” Gerald offered. When Conrad remained silent, he looked up at his new companion only to find him a few feet behind with a stunned expression on his face. “What’s wrong, Conrad?”
“No. . . Nothing. It’s just, that would explain so much! My grandpa always spun yarns about his time in the militia and talked about the magical mounts used by the elite soldiers during the Greenleaf war. I always thought he was just, ya know, embellishing his stories. But after what I’ve heard from others, maybe he was telling the truth after all.”
“Maybe,” Gerald adjusted his pack, “but we’ll never find out if we don’t keep walking. Let’s get moving. We’ve only got a few more miles to go before we reach the river crossing. Another day’s travel after that and we’ll reach the training camp. Then we’ll know more about all of this.”
Conrad nodded. “You’re right.” He caught up with his new squirrel friend and they resumed walking. “So, if you were to become an elite soldier, what kind of mount do you think would pick you?”
Gerald chuckled. “I don’t know but with my luck, I’d probably end up with a platypus!”
So this month’s Blog Battle word prompt is “shift” and if you’ve been following me for any length of time you KNOW I had to respond to this. 😉 Here is my 1,000 word (+ or -) entry. Enjoy.
June 10, 2018
This is my first entry in what Walt’s been calling the Luna Chronicles. It’s basically a glorified personal journal, except it’s supposed to help other Luna’s – eventually. To anyone reading this, please understand that I am no Shakespeare. I’m just doing my best. So here goes.
Becoming a Guardian has been tough but rewarding. I never realized just how much there is to learn OR that I’d have to journal about it! I mean really, who knew visual tracking, botany, and martial arts would be needed? I’m already a werewolf. Everything should come instinctively, right? Wrong.
Granted, I’ve enjoyed the martial arts. It’s something I never thought I’d be able to do considering how sick I was before my first shift. Lupus had put me down hard. It didn’t just limit my movement due to pain, it shrunk my world by interfering with my social and family life. I was always afraid to go too far from home in case I suddenly ran out of steam, or hurt myself in some new and stupid way. Queen of the klutzy, I am, but it was SO much worse with chronic illness issues. Thank God, Sherryl’s been really patient with me despite my klutziness. I can’t believe I nearly knocked her block off with that round house kick! I honestly didn’t think I could move that fast. Good thing we heal quickly.
Botany has been interesting and I’m really glad I’ll be able to identify and avoid poison ivy from now on. Yeah, tripping into that huge patch sucked. Of course that was during my tracking lesson with Stan, Alpha of the Eastern Washington Guardians. Despite his laughter, I’ll never be able to repay him for helping me up and out of that mess. His hands looked almost as horrible as my everything for two days, even with our accelerated healing ability. Ugh.
Shifting has come most easily to me. Ninety-nine percent of the time I stick the landing, so to speak, moving easily from human to wolf and back without issue. That pesky one percent though is a tad worrisome.
I only seem to have issues when I get too tired or emotional, like after that three day flu the kids went through. Of course my lucky husband, Hank, avoided it altogether since his boss just happened to schedule him to go to a conference on those days. I’m still not sure how I escaped getting it, but so glad I did! It was horrible. Poor Matt and Tammy. They must have each lost ten pounds the hard way. Thank God for Sherryl! I’m not sure I’d have been able to handle working, studying, and running between rooms for that long if she hadn’t been dropping off food for me and medicine for the kids.
You wouldn’t believe how hard it was to force myself to take in the currently required 12,000 calories a day while emptying barf buckets every hour or so. Ewww. Sorry, but this journal is supposedly for posterity and Walt told me not to leave ANYTHING out. So yeah, Walt, you asked for it.
Back to the one percent problem. Sorry about the bunny trail. Anyway, after those three days I was wiped out. So with the kids on the mend and finally able to keep food down I needed to get out for a bit. I called Jennifer and invited her out for a run. We’ve been spending more time together recently and I’m enjoying getting to know her. She’s a lovely person, smart, beautiful, hard working, and a talented painter, though she refuses to show her work outside of her home. She’s also single and looking. I can’t imagine how hard dating would be as a woman werewolf. How many guys can handle not just her success as a realtor, but her ability to outrun, outsmart, outplay them AND smell a lie? It has to be like the worst mash-up of Survivor and The Bachelorette ever!
Wow, I bunny trailed again. Sorry. So as I was saying, Jennifer and I were going running. I was exhausted but needed to stretch my legs before hitting the hay for the night. We drove her car and headed to the Bowl and Pitcher in Riverside State Park. There’s great trails around there and I hoped we could make a quick three mile loop. Making the Change from human to wolf was no problem. Running the darkened trail was no problem. Getting back to her car was no problem. The problem came when I tried to Change back.
I felt good after the run, but apparently hadn’t accurately gauged how low on energy I was. By the time Jennifer had Changed and gotten dressed, I still hadn’t been able to find my human form. Jennifer tried to help “push” me through but I was stuck.
I was a little wigged out but Jennifer remained calm. She called Walt who told me to just sleep in my wolf form and try again in the morning. He said he’d call back at 8:00 am to check on me. Jennifer proved herself amazing yet again when she drove me home, roused the kids to inform them of the situation, then helped me up to my room. She brought up a bowl of water and a tray of cold chicken she found in the fridge. I hate to say it but I quite literally wolfed down her offerings. Ten hours later I woke up human only to find she’d set the timer on my coffee maker as well.
I haven’t had any issues shifting since but now I know, burning the candle at both ends for too long can result in a seriously hairy situation. Yup, I said it. You’re welcome, Walt.
Down sick for the last few days, I haven’t gotten much writing done. In fact, I haven’t gotten much of anything done other than to wonder when I’d be able to get anything done. Yeah, it’s been like that. Today, however, I began thinking about my current work in progress (wip) – Lilac City Lunacy.
Building a fantasy world full of characters, plot twists, heroes and villains, is not easy. There’s so much to be done, and though I’m still lagging with little energy I figured I could doodle a few ideas for the cover. Now, I’m no artist. Oh, I can do some silly little line drawings but with about as much talent and flare as a duck using a fountain pen. Still, it’s enough to give a real artist a better idea of what I want. I did this with my first book, Waxing is Useless. In fact, I hired one of the local artists I’d previously interviewed for this blog, Shannon Potratz .
His sense of humor, talent, and accessibility made him the perfect choice for my cover. Let me show you what I mean. On my first visit to his office I handed him this.
And after a follow up visit he created this, and I love it!
Close by and easy to collaborate with I am still amazed by and grateful for his artistry, especially as I have NO experience with graphic art. Worth every penny, he made it so easy for me, as a self-publisher, to load everything up and put it to print. If you are a writer / self-publisher with little to no artistic talent, I highly recommend getting to know your local artists. Beside potentially finding someone great to work with, I just think it’s awesome for local authors to support local artists and vice verse.
In Sue Eller’s world, the people of Earth have finally united under one flag and formed one government with the capital situated in Las Vegas. LAS FREAKIN’ VEGAS, BABY! Of course, despite unification, where there are people there is strife both political and religious.
Two ambitious leaders – one High Priestess and one top General – seek to secure ultimate power by uniting church and government via marriage of convenience. This power couple will do whatever it takes to achieve their goals. Things go awry however, when a massive armada of alien spaceships appear within their solar system. Can another couple, a dead woman and a truck driver, save the world? Maybe, maybe not.
At only 183 pages, this science fiction story is full of intrigue, murder, aliens, a smidge of true love and Biblical parallels that set it apart from typical sci-fi. If you’re looking for an interesting read, this is the book for you.
Laural wandered aimlessly around her living room. Nothing interested her, nothing enticed or motivated. She made another circuit around the room looking at books, games, chores that needed doing and gave up. When she plopped down on the sofa it was with a huff of exasperation. “What the crap am I doing? I’m not getting anywhere like this,” she sighed. She leaned forward and let her head fall into her hands so she could run her fingers over her aching scalp.
She was still massaging her head when her mother entered the room carrying a large laundry basket. Like clockwork, she followed her morning routine. So did Laurel but the two didn’t look at each other much less speak. They hadn’t spoken in months. Too many arguments, vile words, and disrespect had passed between them. Their last conversation had ended with both of them red-faced from screaming. Silence had claimed both their tongues since. Occasionally, she felt her mother’s eyes upon her, but when she tried to speak, nothing came out and her mother grew even more despondent. Despite both of them hoping for a reconciliation, they avoided each other. It was best for everyone. Especially little Haley.
Laurel’s sister, Haley, had been a surprise to everyone. Mom and dad had given up having more kids after mom miscarried baby number two. Lauren had been the one to call 911 when she found mom on the bathroom floor. Her brother had been so tiny! She hated that they hadn’t even bothered to give him a name. Baby number two just sounded like a cruel pun.
They hadn’t buried him either, but they buried Tina – another baby they’d at least bothered to name. Instead, her brother had been cremated and his ashes spread over the river. What the hell that had been about she still had no idea. She’d never been given a decent explanation and had no way to visit him like she did Tina. She was still pissed about that and poor Haley, who was too young to understand, felt the tension in their home. It made her cranky.
Haley cried a lot. Mom would try to comfort her but only Laurel’s voice seemed to soothe the toddler. She’d spent many days in Haley’s room telling her silly stories to make her giggle, and many nights singing so everyone could get some sleep. Laurel would do anything for her baby sister. She glanced toward Haley’s room. She was napping, which was great but that left her at a loss. Still without motivation to do what needed to be done.
Keeping her head down, she watched her mother fold and refold towels until they were perfect before separating them into piles: beach, bath, hand, and wash. Mom was methodical to the point of O.C.D. with some things, but completely March Hare with others. It drove Laurel nuts, but she also found it somewhat endearing. She’d never admit that to mom, though. Towels done, she watched her mom pick them up and head into the bathroom to shelf them. Laurel thought her mother was beautiful when she wasn’t crying or yelling, but again, she would never admit it to her.
Laurel watched a moment longer then turned away. It was too painful, this non-communication. She hoped someday they’d be able to talk again but right now the divide was too deep. She sighed heavily. At least dad would be home soon. Maybe she’d talk to him tonight. He was easier to talk to than mom, especially now, but he wasn’t home much anymore.
It was hard for him to face so much loss. She saw it in his eyes every time he entered their home. His shoulders would slump ever so slightly, while his eyes became weary. It saddened her, but not as much as the lack of affection between her parents. They used to always be hugging or worse, kissing. It used to gross Laurel out, but now she wished to see it again. Her parents seemed to yearn for each other’s companionship but dread it at the same time. She wished she could fix things, make everything better, but she was only a teenager.
The last time she’d spoken with her Dad – mist rising from his lips with each word – he told her she was a great kid. That he loved her and was proud of her, but in her heart, she never felt as if she were doing enough. Of course, doing things now was harder. It took a lot of energy to do anything in her condition.
Laurel sighed again and reached for her aching head. It was weirdly concave ever since that night, the last time she’d argued with her mom. The night she’d stormed out of the house and hitched a ride with that drunk neighbor kid, Mike. She didn’t know he was drunk when she got in the car, and he never saw the delivery truck before they hit it.
The light had come to collect Mike immediately, but she couldn’t leave her sister behind. Haley needed her. So she’d made her way home and hadn’t left since. Deep down she knew she should have let the light take her and let everyone move on, but (in that moment) she’d made her choice. Now it was too late. She didn’t know how to get to the light and wondered if she ever would.