Month: November 2019

My Writing history.

Back in 2012, I finished and self-published my first novel: “Montesquie, New World Island.” It traces the move of the family to a new Volcanic Island in the Pacific Ocean to escape the intrusions of the federal government. That same year, I published the sequel.

My next adventure in fiction writing was “Considering the Ant. Memoirs of Samuel Guardyall,” published in 2017. It’s about a man, who after his wife died in a car wreck, he gets the news that his grandfather left him a log cabin. He works at adjusting to the hardships of life without any modern conveniences.

These three novels were quickly self-published without any edits of my grammatical errors. I was too excited to spend months or a year correcting those English misdeeds. I wanted to hold these books in my hand and be able to give them away to friends and relatives, so the errors were also throughout.

My next adventure in the publishing industry in 2017 was a book named “Rummagings.” It’s a compilation of my online blog posts from 2005-2007.

Then in 2018, I put together a short history of, “School Bus Then and Now.” That was a give away to my friends and associates of the Broken Arrow School bus transportation system. I was retiring after ten plus years of transporting kids to and from schools. I did that to keep busy after my full-retirement from a twelve year career position with the City of Tulsa as a golf course greens keeper.

Now, “Just a Matter of Time, Until the End of Time,” is on the market. Over four-months sometime in the future, this Christian family of four deals with persecution and the continual oversight of the government. I finished the original draft over a year ago, but this time I wanted to do it right. It was edited, corrected, and professionally edited again, sentence by sentence.

That, my folks, is the history of my putting thoughts and ideas in black and white.

Just a Matter of Time –– Until the End of Time

From the first Chapter.

Janice Amwestson carefully steps between the rows of vegetables in her backyard garden alongside the greenhouse. She looks over the roof of the greenhouse, her ears tuned for a whirling noise. She directs her gaze over the house, into the blanket of treetops, as the rising sun illuminates the scattered white fluffy clouds. “Another beautiful day.” Her husband, Robert, hollers out the back door, “Honey, I’m leaving. I may be a bit later at the office. I’m taking the bike. Got that meeting tomorrow evening.”
“Be careful,” Janice replies as the screen door squeaks.
Janice has a wicker basket over her left forearm that holds a few of the selectively chosen first ripened tomatoes, an immature head of iceberg lettuce, and a few cucumbers. She methodically bites into a tomato concentrating on the taste. Looking at the other half, she wonders at the complexity of the intricate design. “How magnificent this is.”

That’s the title and sub-title of my new novel soon to be released. Yippee, I scream in delight. Finally, after penning the original draft for about a year, then another year of changes, edits, corrections, and more edits to this finality.