Showing posts with label Alabama. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Alabama. Show all posts

Monday, June 12, 2017

Witches and School Teachers at Leeds Library



The whole town's talking about those "wayward sisters" up on Moonlight Ridge! But our favorite 4th grade school teacher, a young man named Erskine Batson, gets most of the attention and adulation here at Leeds Jane Culbreth Library!

What's Erskine's secret for capturing the hearts of readers, students, and one mysterious lady on Moonlight Ridge?

Erskine Batson . . . "with one year of college under his belt, the mystifying habit of walking around in the woods cussing and reciting poetry, and every day free to do as he pleased, except Saturdays when he drove the worse-for-wear Eden garbage truck" . . . is a true Renaissance Man.

And how did he survive when the huge tree fell down on top of him during the violent wind storm on the mountain?

You can learn all about our unconventional 4th grade teacher, and plenty of other mysteries on the mountain, in The Witches of Moonlight Ridge.






Thursday, October 23, 2014

The Page 69 Test


Marshall McLuhan, the guru of The Gutenberg Galaxy (1962), recommends that the browser turn to page 69 of any book and read it. If you like that page, buy the book. I applied the Page 69 test to my novel, and found that it works! Browse powerfully and read page 69!



                                Sweet Music on Moonlight Ridge - page 69
                                                                       .
I woke up gradually, drifting in and out of sleep, the afternoon heat on me like a heavy wool blanket. My mouth was dry and I drowsily tried to remember the last time I’d had a drink of water.“Mama,” I mumbled, wanting to ask for a glass of water. But my lips barely moved and my voice didn’t work right because my mouth and throat were so dry.
My eyelids were heavy and hard to open, but finally I was able to focus my eyes on my mama. She was standing at the screen door with her back to me. She was talking to someone standing on the other side of the screen, and as I became fully awake I saw the uniform and heard the gravelly voice, and I recognized Clyde Tucker, the chief of police.
My mother’s hand was on the screen door, as if she intended to keep the tall, pot-bellied policeman out of her house.
“Well, Clyde, she’s been right there asleep in that chair all afternoon, right there where she is now,” Mama said.
Officer Clyde Tucker leaned a little to one side so he could get a better look at me, I guess. He looked right at me, his forehead wrinkled under the bill of his policeman’s cap.
“Don’t your sister have a little boy about that same age?” he asked, leaning a little further, his fat red face right up against the screen.
“My sister’s little boy is quarantined with the whooping cough! Clyde Tucker, don’t you come around here asking questions about our children! It sounds like you’ve got plenty to keep you busy without scaring our children to death. What in the world made you come here asking questions?”

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