Waving to all my abandoned junkies! I have a cool place to share with you today. 😊 Sorry for my overlong absence; I had to ground myself from indulging my passion for all things abandoned until my current manuscript was written and revised, the synopsis written, the blurb written, and everything was sent off to my wonderful personal editor to weed out the imperfections. Now I can’t wait to get started on my hunt for an agent and editor who are as passionate about the derelict and decrepit as we are! Continue reading
These are some images from my trip home in July, 2013. Most are from my husband’s little home town of Manilla, Indiana, which I didn’t even know existed just 10 miles or so southeast of my little home town until I met him when he began working in my home town. How crazy is that? I immediately fell in love with the people, the buildings, and the history.
I would love to see the remaining buildings restored and brought back to life – and even those that are long gone rebuilt and turned into thriving businesses once again. A girl can dream.
During a visit to my old hometown, my mom, Nancy, took me on a trip down memory lane – literally. We traveled every single road and alley, reminiscing over who lived where when she was young while I added my recollections from my youth.
I’ve always loved old barns. My grandma and grandpa had a huge red barn sitting on a steep hill next to their house. My cousins and I played in it all the time, even as it was beginning to become unsafe and warned not to. Daring kids we were. It was three stories with the top floor completely empty. Our uncles had installed basketball hoops at both ends and it made for an awesome court. Also, hanging from the center ridge beam was a long rope. We could take a running jump onto it and swing back and forth in a high, wide arc. It was exhilarating and fun! It didn’t take much to entertain us way back then.
I think of the kids that must have played in these barns – after their chores were done for the day; the mother who trudged out in the wee hours of the morn to milk the cow; the farmer who’s very livelihood revolved around the animals he kept and farming implements stored within that were so vital to his family’s existence. It was a hard row to hoe, but a simpler, straightforward way of life that’s rapidly becoming a long forgotten memory. Continue reading
I’ve long been fascinated with kitchens, the older the more interesting. I love to cook and often imagine how difficult it must’ve been in centuries past. While I appreciate intact or refurbished ancient cooking chambers – they help me tremendously while writing scenes for my characters – there’s just something inherently intriguing about these lost and forgotten, totally abandoned and derelict kitchens.