We lived just outside of Portsmouth, OH for about a year. Hubby was working in Portsmouth on an Americorp job. We were renting a trailer on 400 acres. Mice got into the waterlines in the house and the floor was destroyed, only the carpets in the hall and one bedroom held you up from falling through. No oven, just the stovetop, MiL gave us a fridge.
We looked at some properties in the nearby areas (and down in Kentucky), and drove up into some places with the Agent, that you could definitely hear the ghostly banjo music, as the barefoot kids playing on the dirt road with the chickens and potbellied pigs roamed around their generational homemade trailer park. (We nodded and left).
We finally ended up back in Oklahoma, which is where he was able to find work for the next 15 years. But, it was a strange time. (He grew up in Ohio (Lynchburg and Hillsboro area,) and Kentucky (Greyson? area). He has many interesting stories....
Possum Creek and Snow in her Eyes were great, creepy, sad stories.
I grew up in a small, prosperous town in central Ohio. We were still burning witches (hippies?) in the 1970's. No, I'm not kidding. There was a serial killer shooting people randomly at night through their open windows one summer. A friend had a farm down in the hill country an hour away where a serial killer had been hunting the hunters for a decade. Their house was a hollow shell to hide an entrance to the bunker complex. Another friend lived on a farm where they hosted Grateful Dead concerts. Several of my friends were the children of mobsters. The mob was my first serious job offer. I politely declined. I went to Explorer's meetings (Boy Scouts) at Bell Labs and Martin Marietta, where we were slowly building an OV-10. Every small town had its own gun store, and they all had old belt-fed machine guns.
Hum, if you do any more fantastic Alaskan stories and they're in the interior, maybe Fiddle Fantasy? Hum again, or maybe not. You'd have to explain Athabascan Fiddlers to your audience.
There are few fiddles at the Athabascan Fiddle (They've added a \Music to the title.) Festival these days BTW, mostly young Rock or Country bands from the villages. Still great fun but I miss the fiddlers.
That may come back though, once the kids realize you just can't really play country music 'lessen there's a fiddle in the band! ;-)
Well you found part of your audience anyway. I liked Possum Creek Massacre quite a bit. Not as much as your Pixie Noir books but still quite enjoyable. Thank you for taking the time and care to write so well.
We lived just outside of Portsmouth, OH for about a year. Hubby was working in Portsmouth on an Americorp job. We were renting a trailer on 400 acres. Mice got into the waterlines in the house and the floor was destroyed, only the carpets in the hall and one bedroom held you up from falling through. No oven, just the stovetop, MiL gave us a fridge.
We looked at some properties in the nearby areas (and down in Kentucky), and drove up into some places with the Agent, that you could definitely hear the ghostly banjo music, as the barefoot kids playing on the dirt road with the chickens and potbellied pigs roamed around their generational homemade trailer park. (We nodded and left).
We finally ended up back in Oklahoma, which is where he was able to find work for the next 15 years. But, it was a strange time. (He grew up in Ohio (Lynchburg and Hillsboro area,) and Kentucky (Greyson? area). He has many interesting stories....
Possum Creek and Snow in her Eyes were great, creepy, sad stories.
I grew up in a small, prosperous town in central Ohio. We were still burning witches (hippies?) in the 1970's. No, I'm not kidding. There was a serial killer shooting people randomly at night through their open windows one summer. A friend had a farm down in the hill country an hour away where a serial killer had been hunting the hunters for a decade. Their house was a hollow shell to hide an entrance to the bunker complex. Another friend lived on a farm where they hosted Grateful Dead concerts. Several of my friends were the children of mobsters. The mob was my first serious job offer. I politely declined. I went to Explorer's meetings (Boy Scouts) at Bell Labs and Martin Marietta, where we were slowly building an OV-10. Every small town had its own gun store, and they all had old belt-fed machine guns.
Man, things were weird, looking back on them.
Banjo Fantasy, good choice!
Hum, if you do any more fantastic Alaskan stories and they're in the interior, maybe Fiddle Fantasy? Hum again, or maybe not. You'd have to explain Athabascan Fiddlers to your audience.
There are few fiddles at the Athabascan Fiddle (They've added a \Music to the title.) Festival these days BTW, mostly young Rock or Country bands from the villages. Still great fun but I miss the fiddlers.
That may come back though, once the kids realize you just can't really play country music 'lessen there's a fiddle in the band! ;-)
Well you found part of your audience anyway. I liked Possum Creek Massacre quite a bit. Not as much as your Pixie Noir books but still quite enjoyable. Thank you for taking the time and care to write so well.