I placed an order for a large quantity of Monkey Toes to be delivered to the house. Oh, I mean I ordered the book to be printed and delivered to the house.
It is kind of exciting for your first published proof of your book to come to the house from the printers, especially when you were unaware they were sending it. Then to see it listed on Amazon and Barnes and Noble. That’s just crazy.
Finally you are given the opportunity to order large quantities of them for others who are requesting them, wild!!
I will keep you posted on when they arrive and are available.
Thanks for reading.
As of yesterday the final proof was sent back to the printers; “BANG!” and they’re off! HAH.
The reason I started Monkey Toes was as to leave some record of the stories behind for my children’s children; when it happens. Writing it down became fun remembering things growing up in a large family in a rural Wisconsin town that turned into a semi-suburban community as I reached adolescence during the end of the War in Vietnam. Quite a changing time to be a teen in and unsettling. Some of it was for me to remember before I forgot. As it was written it got longer and needed pruning to keep it fresh, like flowers or fruit trees.
The old aunts and uncles, cousins and other kin-folk we would visit always seemed truly glad to see us come. I suspect they were just as happy we left. Long hot summers tent camping, no one had air-conditioning in their cars; it robed the horse power. Lakes in Canada full of fish begging to be caught. Mosquito attacks of Biblical proportions and bug fights, bug bites, or shad flies so thick on a beach their crunching bodies became slippery underfoot like iced sawdust.
Some of the characters bare the names of my children, some of the antics related are from their lives .
They are grown people now, I still love them as much, yet more now than then, they were small. When they are little you can cuddle and coddle them and get them to agree to most anything, they needed me so then. Those eyes full of wonder at the world of creation gave me insight to God’s love. As they looked to me for love and understanding I prayed to God to be the father they needed me to be. They’ve grown up and moved away, I believe they need me still.
Where to begin the next story? There are so many true stories how can I clutter them up in humorous fiction? We did so much ridiculously stupid true stuff growing up who would believe it either? I will try to keep the truth separated from fiction for my families sake. But possibly changing names to protect the guilty.. er.. innocent. Hah