***After a pretty severe sprain to my right wrist that sidelined my writing for several frustrating months, I'm happy to report I'm back to my writing and I hope you enjoy the next installment of my TODAY'S WORD series.***
To
all my current and future #DCSPeeps (DECIDE, COMMIT, SUCCEED),
welcome to my new series in my continuing effort to inspire, amuse,
and entertain you! Each Monday I will select a new word to analyze how
it might apply to our writing lives and also give you a peek into my
childhood growing up in the swamps of southern Louisiana, so kick
back, put your feet up, and check out my story about TODAY'S WORD:
HURRICANE
I thought it appropriate to return to my blog this week with a story about my own battle of dealing with a HURRICANE while victims of Harvey and Irma weather their own storms.
Growing up so close to the Gulf of Mexico made it almost a sure thing I would see a hurricane or two roar through my hometown. It seemed like every fall I would never actually get to go to the first day of school because we were always under a hurricane watch.
Sometimes, we would just get a little rain, but on September 16th, 1971, Hurricane Edith bore down on my hometown of Gueydan and only my mother stood between me and the storm.
My father, an off shore cook, wasn't always around when hurricanes came to town. My mother would hope for the best, but prepare for the worst. Filling up the bathtub with water to drink, buying extra kerosene for the lanterns in case the power went out, and storing up enough canned food to feed an army.
Mother never showed fear, even when the wind howled and the roof threatened to tear away from our house. She was the rock in the proverbial storm. I never felt afraid even when Edith caused a water surge of up to 8 feet in some areas, and I watched the wind spin trash cans like frisbees before crashing them into houses across the street from our home.
Writing a good story can be a bit like riding out a great storm. Ideas sometimes swirl around in our brain and characters crash into each other as plot lines rain down on us. We wade through the debris of false starts, and ride out the storm to a shaky ending.
But sometimes everything becomes a perfect story storm surging out of us to touch the lives of others...
Children's book author, Donna L Martin,
has been writing since she was eight years old. She is a 4th Degree
Black Belt in TaeKwonDo by day and a 'ninja' writer of children’s
picture books, chapter books and young adult novels by
night. Donna is a BOOK NOOK REVIEWS host providing the latest book
reviews on all genres of children’s books. She is also a book reviewer
for Harper Collins, and a member of the Society of Children's Book
Writers & Illustrators. Donna is a lover of dark chocolate, good
stories, and an adoptive mom to 20-pound guard kitty in Knoxville,
Tennesse
Hurricane Carla in 1961 is the one I remember the most. I was 4 and it was all confusing. Brother said it was coming after me. There was Hurricane Donna in 1960, Hurricane Janet in 1955, and Hurricane Carol in 1954. So far, no Hurricane David.
ReplyDeleteSo basically you're saying Mother Nature KNEW the three Lavergne sisters would come howling into the world, leaving destruction in their wake, right? Lol...
DeleteThanks for stopping by and come back any time!
Yep. Actually, it would be spooky if those hurricanes occurred in our birth years.
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