Laurel McHargue -- Author/Podcaster/Public Speaker

A good friend has been pestering me for months now about this bizarre “NaNoWriMo” event, and I have always had great reasons to tune her out. I AM writing, I tell her. And I am. I’ve been having a wonderful time working with the people at Publishing Syndicate since March, and finally have a non-fiction short story published in the first book of their new series: Not Your Mother’s Book…On Being a Woman. My story is called “Battle-Dressed Breasts,” and I think it’s rather funny.

I will also have my name on the cover of Not Your Mother’s Book…On Being a Stupid Kid which I co-created, and that book is filled with wonderful stories, too! So while I was thinking that it was time to get back to my V-Mail to e-mail book, my pester-friend challenged me with the funny word again…and something “took” in my psyche.

As my husband points out to me (time and time again), I need a specific challenge to fire my engines, and while I was finishing up Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse-Five in bed last night, I felt a spark (but Mike was already asleep!).

Having never written fiction, I wondered what my novel could be about. “Write what you know”–the advice of published sages throughout history–rang through my noggin after I turned out the light. And then the light turned on! Teaching. I know about teaching. And oh, by the way, I journaled almost every day of my very first year of teaching.

So here’s the plan: I will complete my first novel during the month of November. I must write at least 50,000 words in order to be successful at this challenge (according to the rules). Here’s the link to the National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) site: http://www.nanowrimo.org/en/about

Wish me luck!

How I wish I had had my camera at the ready while driving home last evening. Imagine, if you will, a drive-thru window at the local liquor store, with a man sitting upon his great steed waiting to receive his brown paper bag. There. I didn’t really need a camera after all!

When I got home, I finally succumbed to the “Twitter” world @LeadvilleLaurel, and am wondering today how the world would function without technology. The “things” that have been invented to save us all so much time now have us constantly connected . . . perhaps like the single organism Alan Watts prophesied in The Book: On The Taboo Against Knowing Who You Are (1966). Fascinating read, by the way.

Anyway, TODAY bookstores should be able to order the first book in Publishing Syndicate’s new non-fiction series: Not Your Mother’s Book…On Being a Woman. I am particularly anxious to get my hands on a copy since I have a short story in it (called “Battle-Dressed Breasts,” in case you’re wondering)! Also, my name will be on the cover of the second book as co-creator of Not Your Mother’s Book…On Being a Stupid Kid which is full of truly wonderful/silly/crazy stories from people (you just may know some of them) about things they’re ‘fessing up to from their past! These books will make great presents for any occasion, so ask your book stores for them!

My goal after Labor Day in 2011 was to have something “publishable” within a year. I’m pretty happy with what I’ve accomplished since then!

 [the envelope for this letter has a scratched out “10 Pon…” then the new address, 79 Centre Street.  Still Dorchester, Mass., no zip code]

May 18, 1943, Tuesday

Dear Mom, Dad, Kay & Jake,

Here’s a few lines from your still in Texas son. Fellows are leaving here weekly for school to Camp Crowder, and my hopes of Monmouth are fading. However there may yet be a chance.

Well how do you like the new house? I’ll bet it’s swell compared to the old on. It certainly seems funny not to be addressing my letters to 10 Pond anymore. I suppose you miss it already. I won’t know anybody when I go home now. You must be happy to be down there because you’ve always wanted to be.

I haven’t heard from the fellows lately, except Carmie. He’s written me twice in a week so I’m going to write to him next. When you were at Pont St. I figured there wasn’t any need of writing to them because they were always up the house. Now you’ve added names to my list by moving.

I had a fairly busy weekend. Saturday they had five inspections. That’s quite a record for here. They are really clamping down on us. If we had any more inspections I would have dropped from nervous exhaustion. We have to shake our blankets out daily and five minutes later they are full of dust. They should call this Camp Dust instead of Camp Swift. I bought a summer Garrison hat and today they came out with an order that we can’t wear them. Nearly all the fellows here got stung that way. [While Mike and I were in the Army, there were frequent “uniform updates” which, I suppose, kept people employed.]

Everything was satisfactory on the fifth inspection so we all headed out of camp. We went to Taylor and had a nice time at a dance there. The next day I went swimming and had a swell time. There’s a little pool in Bastrop and it was really enjoyed.

Monday I was hit with my old faithful “K.P.” I would rather walk twenty miles than do K.P. It’s really rough. [hyperbole?] Today I had all I could do to keep awake. We’re eating out in the field to give the cooks experience and to train us how to camaflouge (sic) ourselves while eating.

I got Kay’s letter yesterday and really appreciated it. What about my big brother? I haven’t heard from him since he sent me the fudge. Did you get your shirt yet Jackie? I hope it fits and you like it.

Time for lites out now so I’ll close with Lots of love, Murray.

p.s. I’m kind of short. Could you send me a couple of dollars?  Thanks. [How I wish “a couple of dollars” would fit the bill today!]

Don’t leave me.

This is not the pathetic whimper of
     a helpless child,
but the heartfelt plea of
     an adult who knows what she now has
          and fears the fleeting nature of existence.
But you are unafraid, and teach me still.

And I know that I left you first.  But still,

Don’t ever leave me.

It’s not that I need you anymore,
Except for the occasional, insistent need I feel for your voice
     Your recipes
          Your jokes
               Your laughter
                    Your advice
 Your praise

And the confirmation of our connectedness.

Why do I still care that you accept what I have chosen?
Is it because you are the parents of three new generations and I, just one?
Is it because you have lived more,
     know more,
          love more,
               hope and pray for so much more…for me…and I fear that I might disappoint?
Is it because I am you—but more…and less?

You must never leave me.

I am still your child,
     Still your little girl, though I’ve kept her hidden deep inside,
          Yet now a grown woman who recognizes and appreciates you increasingly each day,
Becoming more like you—and more like me…and contented with this new composition!

You will always be with me.

I will see you in my mirror,
     Will hear you in my dreams,
          Will feel you in my blood,
And will hold you…forever…in my heart,

So I smile, inside and out, knowing you will never leave me!

May 9, 1943 [written on beautifully scenic Camp Swift, Texas stationary with borders of local flowers]

Dear Mom & folks,

Here’s a few more flowers for you on Mother’s Day. I hope you had a nice one. I said some extra prayers for you at Mass this morning. We went to Austin over the weekend and it was the first time I’ve been in a civilian church since leaving home. It was small but nice and reminded me a little of home.

Our hike was a success and as far as I’m concerned, I got off easy. We left camp about 4:30 and had supper on the road at six. We set camp about seven and settled down after dark. About five thirty Sat. morning I was awakened and told I was appointed to the trash detail. I got a ride back to camp, had breakfast in the mess hall and was thru work about 10. At that time the outfit came dragging home, tired and ringing wet with sweat. So, as I told you, I got off easy.

Dad, I’ve been looking over the gabardine suits and as I don’t know one cloth from another, I wonder if you would get one at Boston and send it to me. You could get it a lot cheaper and most likely a lot better. I wear a size 14 shirt, 33 sleeves. Have them take the shoulder straps off, as they are for officers. Pants are 31 waist and 32 leg. Down here you have to pay about $20 for one that’s worth probably only $12 or $14. I’m in no rush for it, but if I should go to N.J. I’d like to have it to wear home. Try to get one which will hold the press and won’t wrinkle easy. Use your own judgement on how much to pay for it and take it from the bank. If you think that tropical worsted is better or cooler, get that one, and let me know one way or t’other.

As soon as I make a change, I’ll telegram home so until then keep writing here. That’s all for now, Love, Moe.