(Above picture taken 10/6/06 from HWY 9 leading into Zion National Park, Utah, after a storm)
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"We've split the atom and the banana, yes? So why not the infinitive?"
~ J. B. Williams
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Here I am in sepia tint, three years old and sitting on the lawn. With my off-camera hand I am putting my opponent's white king in check with my black bishop. Or else I am playing with dried-out dog poo. I'm not sure.
These days I'm using that hand to write a novel for young adults in which infinitives get split right down the middle and participles are left to dangle precariously. It's all about what happens to fifteen-year-old Oliver Cotelle. He's having rather troubling dreams and needs someone, maybe his grandma, to explain what they mean. He only knows that when he finds out, his life will be changed forever, though he's not certain if it will be for the better.
It's a mystery/fantasy/thriller. But will I ever finish it? That's the mystery. If I do finish it, will it get published? That's my fantasy. If it does get published, will it become a best seller? I'd be thrilled if it did. And you might be thrilled, too, because if you were to find yourself in a Barnes & Noble shaking my hand at a book-signing, you'd know it's the same hand I once moved that black bishop with. I think. Checkmate.
These days I'm using that hand to write a novel for young adults in which infinitives get split right down the middle and participles are left to dangle precariously. It's all about what happens to fifteen-year-old Oliver Cotelle. He's having rather troubling dreams and needs someone, maybe his grandma, to explain what they mean. He only knows that when he finds out, his life will be changed forever, though he's not certain if it will be for the better.
It's a mystery/fantasy/thriller. But will I ever finish it? That's the mystery. If I do finish it, will it get published? That's my fantasy. If it does get published, will it become a best seller? I'd be thrilled if it did. And you might be thrilled, too, because if you were to find yourself in a Barnes & Noble shaking my hand at a book-signing, you'd know it's the same hand I once moved that black bishop with. I think. Checkmate.
![Picture](/uploads/4/7/7/7/4777831/2641586.jpg?407)
Big Sky Country, that's what they call Montana. But how about Amazing Sky Country? In August of 2008 I took a trip to Montana on twelve hours of quiet freeway due north of Provo, Utah. As soon as I crossed from Idaho into the Treasure State the sky started doing spectacular things. It was all I could do not to drive into the ditch since I was glancing up constantly, my head on a swivel.
Check out all these funnel clouds doing their darnedest to reach the ground. There were dozens of them, twisting away up there. They made me think of upside-down witches' hats.
Check out all these funnel clouds doing their darnedest to reach the ground. There were dozens of them, twisting away up there. They made me think of upside-down witches' hats.
![Picture](/uploads/4/7/7/7/4777831/475761.jpg?370)
It felt like the sky was full of energy, or power. Like there was magic in the air. The Indians - the Kootenai, Salish, and Pend d'Oreilles peoples of the region - might say that the spirits are busy here, connecting to Mother Earth.
Later, as I was setting up my tent at the KOA in Missoula, the very sunset you see below happened. I say happened as though it was an event because that's what it was. The entire atmosphere seemed to swirl with color, like if you threw paint into a whirlpool. Tangerine, magenta, indigo, teal - all shifting in a fluid heaven.
Later, as I was setting up my tent at the KOA in Missoula, the very sunset you see below happened. I say happened as though it was an event because that's what it was. The entire atmosphere seemed to swirl with color, like if you threw paint into a whirlpool. Tangerine, magenta, indigo, teal - all shifting in a fluid heaven.
I was in Montana doing field research for the book. On my fourth day there I found the perfect location for Granny Mae's log cabin - in the woodsy outskirts of tiny St. Ignatius (population: 807 souls) at the base of the wild Mission Mountains. It's the place where Oliver spends a fateful summer, discovering his destiny. I asked a local gentleman, a Salish tribal elder named Ernie S., if there was spirit power in these mountains. "Oh, yes," he said, nodding. I had goose bumps come up right then.