Finally, Chapter I

The Adventures of Becca and Freddie, The Turtle Dated 11 September 2009

Chapter I

This story takes place in New York City, home of a gazillion people. My name is Hannah Rebeccah Harris, and this story is about my future turtle, Freddie. I come from a Jewish home, not ultra religious, but we have a great love for God and His Word, and for each other. My Mother is called Ima, My Father is Abba. My family calls me Becca all the time, a shortened version of Rebeccah. I like that name.

My best adult friend is Bubbe – my Grandmother. Bubbe and my Grandfather live in the same building as I do, but they live about 9 stories below, on the first floor. Bubbe takes me to school in the morning, and picks me up after school. When I have friends over after school, Bubbe sometimes makes us cookies, and sometimes we’ll just have cheese and crackers with bread and butter pickle slices. Yum! My favorite!

My home with my parents is in the penthouse apartment right across the street from Central Park, in the Upper East Side. This city is full of very tall buildings, many of them buildings where people go to work, and many of them apartments where families live. A penthouse is the very top story of an apartment building, and it’s quite special because you can walk out onto a large porch area that has trees and flower pots, and in our case you can see right across the street into Central Park.

Central Park is quite special, as it has wonderful trails where people jog every day, and a big play area for kids, like me. The Central Park Zoo is close by, and Friedsman Carousel is so very much fun. There is a wonderful small lake where people can rent a canoe and paddle away for hours; there are large rocks quite popular for the boys to climb; the forests are thick and dark, home for little critters like squirrels and chipmunks, little field mice and bugs. LOTS of bugs, even fire flies at night that are fun to run after and catch in little jars. But you have to be careful to let them go after awhile so they can join their family.

My parents both work full time; Ima works in a bank and helps people start new accounts. Abba sells property, like office space in the large buildings called “sky-scrapers”. Our whole family, including my Grandparents, gets together every Friday night to have dinner together. We welcome in the Sabbath with candles and a beautiful braided loaf of bread, called Challah that Bubbe bakes, with my help of course! Abba shares from our Bible great truths we need to know about and remember. On Saturday, Abba and my Grandfather leave early in the morning for Synagogue, at Temple Emanu-el and later we take walks through the Park, often times having a picnic of left-over Challah with cheese and fruit. I love my family!

Sometimes after school or during summer break, Bubbe and I take the subway to the Museum of Natural History, or just walk through the park. Once in a great while Bubbe treats me to a carriage ride and I always prepare myself by bringing a couple of whole carrots for the wonderful, gentle horse. My friend Sophie and I get together quite often, and her little brother, Jacob, often comes over with her. Jacob is just a year younger, so the three of us have a great time together. I think they are my very best friends!

I love being with Bubbe, but … well, some days I just want to have something to take care of by myself, instead of being taken care of. One day, Bubbe and I sat down after school, when it was just the two of us. It was storming something fierce outside and we just sat quietly, watching the lightening out of the large windows. I was apparently more quiet than usual, as Bubbe asked me what was going on in my pretty little head.

“Becca darling, what’s troubling you, child?”

“Oh Bubbe”, I said sadly, “I love the time I spend with you and all the things we do together, but sometimes I’d really like to have something that I could care for, like a pet!”

“I totally understand,” said Bubbe, pulling me closer to her, her arm holding my shoulder tightly. “Sometimes a little girl just needs to have a buddy, other than a classmate or your old Bubbe.” We both giggled at that comment, as I didn’t ever think of Bubbe as old! Just a little crinkled here and there.

So, that night when we were sitting down for dinner, I prepared to have a little pow-wow with my parents. Bubbe had fixed our meal, and my Grandfather also came because he likes to eat too!

Bubbe spoke right up, “Becca and I talked today about her need to have a pet. I think she’s old enough, and with my watchful protection, she’d have an opportunity to take care of something, and learn things along the way.”

Becca chimed in, “Yes, Ima and Abba… I’d really like to ask your permission to have a small pet that I can care for!”

Becca’s Ima said, “I’d love for you to have a pet, sweetheart, but the apartment rules are such that they don’t allow dogs or cats. Let’s check with the Superintendent and see what he recommends. Perhaps a caged little pet would be acceptable.”

Abba spoke right up, “Yes, I think being eight years old is a great age to have some responsibility in caring for a pet. I think you’d be perfect as a pet owner.”

I was SO excited, I jumped up from my seat at the table and gave each Parent and Grandparent a BIG hug and a kiss on the cheek. Later that evening Abba had to go to the neighborhood market for milk and bread, and returning to our building, bumped into the Super (short for Superintendent) in the elevator.

“Hey there, Walt. You know our Becca quite well; say, what do you think about our getting a small caged pet for her?” Abba asked the Super. “Would that be acceptable to the rules of our building?” Walt agreed right off, without even thinking in great detail. The Super has known me since I was about four, and we’re pretty good buddies, anyway. I guess he just couldn’t turn me down - I always give him a big smile in the elevator.

So, that night in bed, I was so excited that I could hardly sleep at all. When I finally drifted off to sleep, my dreams were filled with all sorts of pet options: hamsters, goldfish, a ferret maybe? When I thought about a turtle, I was sure this idea was unique and a great decision. I fell asleep finally and dreamed of a turtle, not just any turtle, but MY turtle!

Pre-Story Ramblings

I'm getting all my ducks in a row, Per Se. A lot of my investigation is in place, and Jerry fixed up a lap top that I didn't even know we had! Blew some dust off the top, and it will work well once we get to the New Mexico cabin on Friday. Gee, I can even work on things in the car while driving! When I return to the Blog next week, probably Wednesday, I may have my first chapter!

Speaking of Blogs, and Computers, sometimes I see the merit of such conveniences. Ordering NetFlix by website, or even ordering a movie right off the TV to watch instantaneously! Writing future chapters of this dream while riding in a car! Visually talking to our son in Japan - through the aid of a web-cam and microphone to hear his voice. So many marvels in our time, but there's something melancholy about the way life used to be.

A time when life was slower-paced, kinder, fresher. I'm thinking about the way I used to help Mom put the laundry out on a line. Better memories yet... of when I helped my grandmother in Cheyenne, WY do her laundry in the basement of their home, on a wringer-washer. The silly machine would be agitating in soapy suds, then Grandmother would pull the plug, and the water would go down a hose into a drain on the floor. The tub would fill up again, the agitator going in full motion. This time, as the soapy water went down the hose into the drain, we'd take an item of clothing and run it through this wringer (hand-operated, mind you) which would squeeze every drop of water from the article of clothing. We'd fill that apple basket to the top with clean clothes. Oh my, the scent of fresh-clean laundry is still memorable!

Out to the clothesline Grandmother and I would go. In those days they had wooden pegs that held the laundry onto the line. I was tall as a pre-teen, so I didn't need a stepping stool to get the clothes hung. On breezy days I'd hear those sheets crack as they flew in the air.

Then there was ironing to be done. My Grandmother took in laundry to add to their income, and I always got to iron the hankies. Men's hankies were always white, and pretty basic to iron. BUT, ladies hankies were MOST fun! There were hankies that were laced all around that I took special care with the iron's heat. They were usually in the most adorable prints as well.

Grandmother would even iron the sheets and pillow cases, and the men's underwear; of course, I'd get embarrassed. I think even kitchen drying-towels got a lick and a promise of an iron, nothing was wrinkled in my Grandmother's house!

I remember growing up using a party-line in our house. It was mainly our neighbors we were tied up to, which was OK because we all knew each other and it was OK to pick up the phone, needing to use it, and interrupt the Armstrong's next door to say, "could we use the phone for a minute to make a doctor's appointment?" I miss that - people actually talked with each other, and we were always visiting the neighbors and taking over a pie if we made two.

I don't think I'll ever be a "texter". I don't like the concept at all; but lots of people find it's a time saver, and I guess these days, that's important. I rather like popping over to my neighbor Cheryl, or calling another friend a bit further away. We have a cell phone, but most our family and friends know by now that it's probably plugged in at home rather than being in my handbag. And we buy minutes instead of being billed monthly. It's like for emergencies. It's just the way we are!

Remember the old TV commercial for Calgon Bath Beads? "Calgon!!!!!.... take me A-W-A-Y!" I want to cry the same chant, but with emphasis on returning to the times when I was much, much younger - things were simpler, and somehow...kinder. Sometimes wallowing in "What Used to Be" is like a hot bath, filled with Calgon Bath Beads. "Take me away!!!!!"

Hooray! I begin!

Great news! I absolutely KNOW where I'm going! Had a wonderful dream 2 nights ago about a short story I want to develop. It will be a Children's Book! I have a character, Freddie the Box Turtle and his keeper/best friend, Suzannah Rebeccah Cohen. The story takes place in NYC, and the Cohen's are an upper-class family living in the Penthouse apartment overlooking Central Park.

I've decided to make this book Jewish friendly, as well as for the rest who are non-Jewish! I have a complete outline, and I'm ready to begin writing. I wasn't even thinking of doing a Children's book, which is amazing. I think my God wanted me to start simply, using simple language, simple ideas, and allowing Him to show me that simple beginnings have great value.

I am SO NOT overwhelmed, but excited like ever to begin. Please send me an e-mail at my cox.net address if you want to be involved. I sense working my pages through this site might not be judicious - I have a hesitancy - don't know why, but I'll be cautious nonetheless. I will give updates and "segments" that will tantalize the senses, on this blog.

I've done my research on "Children and Box Turtles", and will weave in the story how children reading this "book" (in the future) will understand the care for, and pleasure of, having a little creature to care for.

So, I'm off and running like... A HERD OF TURTLES!

Day 3 - Reading "How-To's" Is SO Not Me

But recipe books are the exception! I muddled through most of Chapter I, Narrating, in the James Wood book. I can see Mr. Wood is a Genius! When he reads a book, I'm thinking he dissects each paragraph into categories of information. Hats Off, Mr. Wood. I'll continue through the book because I paid dearly for it, but it's written (in my humble opinion) for College Graduates going for their Doctorate in English Literature.

But here is what I've learned thus far: The HUGE Chapter on Narrating describes to me several ways of telling a story. Oh, how this takes me back to 12th Grade English, on a very small scale!

"First-person narration is generally more reliable than unreliable", Wood writes. So, this information plus a $5 bill will buy me a lovely latte' at Starbucks! There's not only First Person, but Third Person "Omniscient" narration. (Make that a double-shot Carmel Macchiato, skinny, extra Carmel!)

I can do "direct speech" or "indirect speech" or even "free indirect speech". I'm thinking I need to go back to college!

But I know darned well that Stephen King wrote his first book without any further education than what was required, and he was desperate for finances living in a teensy weensy, old trailer with his sweet, supportive wife, when he wrote his first thriller novel. He didn't even have a cloud of ambiance in which to write, yet he became published right off! Perhaps a dark and crowded trailer, old and not much of a view out those little windows was ambiance enough to write a scary book!

I am getting a sense of what I need to look at, but don't want to get trapped into thinking sentence structure and vernacular and styles of writing is what I need to obey (as such) to make a neat and tidy sentence! or paragraph! or chapter! I'd miss the gush of creativity that often floats like a raft surging down the raging Colorado river during spring runoff.

I think at this time I need to construct a theme. This project may be bigger than I imagined, so... like in the TV program, "You Want To Be A Millionaire?", I'm going to invite my audience to participate in this work. It won't be "my work", but "our work". If this ever gets published (a BIG if), it will be "our names" as contributing authors!

Ever read Choose Your Own Adventures? It was a series of books for older children and young teens. My boys LOVED this series. They could read just so far, and have to decide where their character went and what the outcome was. They'd see-saw all throughout the book, looking for the page number that began the next segment of their adventure.

If this has ever been done - writing a book from a Blog standpoint - I'd be amazed. But you, my fans, my friends and family, I am inviting you to participate.

Over a modest plate of enchiladas for our linner (lunch/dinner) today, I asked Jerry what he thought about my idea. He's game, and is intrigued over the fun that many participants could have over this project!

Here's how it works - and I'm guessing as I write:

1. I will write several paragraphs beginning a story. It will not be Stephen King-like, nor will it be Jane Austen-like. It will definitely be "me-like". I'll get started letting the creative juices froth, and begin penning a Chapter of... something!

2. At the end of what I write, I'll give 3 scenarios of which direction could possibly happen.

3. I'll wait for at least 3 answers within 3 days time before seeing which direction was most popular.

4. Then I will mush on for another segment of my story. You can suggest a character-type if you'd like, and I'll see how I can develop the story-line. I adored the movie, Romancing The Stone, where the writer (played by Kathleen Turner) herself became a character in the actual book, where adventure...romance... intrigue... and a happy ending were all realized.

I think Mr. Wood, Author of How Fiction Works, would probably fall in a dead faint to see my abruptly leaving his book to take this plunge! But mind you, I will try and make good use of what I've learned so far, if I possibly can. And I WILL pursue to finish the little red book, How Fiction Works!

Day 2 - Ugh, Getting Started

This all began for me when, last week, I began reading my friend Isabel's Bucher's first published full-length book. She's been encouraging me over the years to write something more than a paragraph. Being totally undisciplined and hating to spend more than 1/2 hour at the computer, her suggestion seemed ludicrous. I LOVE putting words together and totally capturing the moment with letters, much like an artist would convey a moment in time with paint, but keeping at it and forming more than a paragraph...more like a page would be in order? or horrors, a Chapter? That was more than I could ever dream! I just plain don't know how to develop and maintain a key thought and execute enthusiasm and momentum in a project. Does this make any sense at all?

My Mom was a writer, unpublished, and had a flair for drama. I heard from her friends what a writer she was, although I don't remember myself reading anything she ever wrote. Also, our son Jon is a writer. He wrote some scathing things in High School that almost got him expelled, and he wrote for his College Newspaper and received lots of "high fives" from many students for that work. He's a word-meister, something I really respect and try to aim for. His humor is dry and deliciously wonderful; someday he'll write a famous book and pay for our nursing home expenses.

Jon has tried to encourage me by buying me books of where I can send my little articles to. Once I sent in a short story to Guideposts and got shot down, never to send in another story to anyone. But write I did anyway - especially writing about the foreign places we lived.

I wrote several humorous stories about living in Germany, and adapting to the "German Way", i.e., traipsing to the Dairy with my dairy bucket, paying Milsch Marken coins to buy my fresh milk. And about the German Farmer-lady, ancient as she was, who surely, in the privacy of her own acreage, struggled off her tractor, threw up the back side of her dress, squatted and did her business. And in Aqaba, Jordan - writing about the Ferrel cats I adopted; the way the women's hair-stylist painfully trimmed eyebrows; oh, and the Arabic neighbor in our apartment who spoke German to us because we knew some German and no Arabic. In New Zealand I wrote about my little chick, and personal friend, Henny Penny, and our adventures together. I also wrote about the beautiful plants in my garden that were actually weeds and didn't show their "true color" until I began cleaning them out of my garden and trying to tolerate the stench they created. I adored writing about these places, so much fun! But they only ever got on my e-mail list to my friends, my fans, who begged for more.

But what fun is there to write about living in Mesa, Arizona! The suffocating heat, the way one watches their prized flowers not only wilt, but die to the ground in short time. What fun is it writing about mowing the small patch of grass you have in your front yard, having buckets of sweat slither down your face? So, I've been frustrated at best. But thanks to Isabel and reading her book, and seeing how one weaves words into interesting paragraphs, and paragraphs turning into Chapters, I had to investigate what now to do!

So I order two books from Amazon.com. I could have purchased these books from the book store 3 miles away, but no... I felt this was good, and anyway postage is free if you order $25.00 worth of books. I did not know, however, that doing the "One-Click-Ordering" did not get you postage-free books, so I ended up paying for shipping which frosted my buns.

I looked at my options of "getting started"-type books, and decided on two (adding up to $25). I ordered How Fiction Works, by James Wood, and How Novels Work, by John Mullan. You can see by the titles that I wanted to see how something like writing "works"!

I chose the smaller of the two books to begin my odessey, the James Wood book. I always read the very first pages of every book. I want to know who the author thanks, the preface, and introduction if there is one. I like to check out the Contents to see how many chapters I'm in for. And then I began reading my first chapter, titled Narrating.

After reading the second page I get distracted. I'm noticing the really cool binding on this book! I guess being such a small book the publishers had to do something really cool, so they put rough edges on the pages! I got sidetracked really good... I had to go back and count the smooth-sided pages vs. the saw-tooth-sided pages that gave it the look that caught my eye!

See what I mean? Too easily distracted. I'm very visual and love textures and color and stuff like that. But now, that this distraction is over, I need to knuckle-down and truly begin my lessons, or for the rest of my natural life I'll just be writing paragraphs, and never get to my first chapter. More later.

Day 1, Why am I doing this?

"Perish the thought I should look over your shoulder", my husband said. He's sitting to my left side, pretending to be working on his computer. He's helping me set up. Without him, I'd be totally lost. He's my best friend and occasionally, very occasionally, my worst enemy. He's my cheer-leader, and the one who keeps me on track, whether I ask for this favor or not.

My "mentor", if you will, is Julie and Julia, the movie. I adored this movie! Loving to cook, it was right up my alley, or kitchen. And as well, my love for writing, is why I am here beginning my very first words.

Too many of my friends have said, "You could, you should! write a book!" And I'd scratch my head not knowing where to begin. Paragraphs are easy, a page is easy, but a chapter I just can't seem to get to. So I do what I've never done before. I ordered How Fiction Works, by James Wood. I'm intimidated by it's size, the smallest book I've ever seen, yet won Nonfiction Book of the Year Award! But you gotta start somewhere, and this is my smallest beginning ever.