The Prairie Dogs Have Coal Miners’ Helmets With Lights and Other Stories

The Prairie Dogs Have Coal Miners' Helmets With Lights and Other Stories
The Prairie Dogs Have Coal Miners’ Helmets With Lights and Other Stories

Today is Saturday, February 8, 2014. It is a Saturday. After a week of cold miserable weather, we had a reprieve this afternoon. The sun came out after spending the morning behind clouds. Temperatures that started at freezing made their way to 52 degrees at 4:47 PM. After days with temperatures staying below freezing it felt like a heat wave.

My Saturday was similar to many others. I awoke later than usual today. I slept until 7:15 AM. Instead of heading for coffee at Starbucks, I had breakfast at home as well as my morning caffeine. I watched some of the Olympics opening ceremonies on DVR while I ate a bowl of Cheerios with dried cherries. I remained at home until my wife departed for work.

After she left I loaded my laptop and myself into my Ford Taurus. I headed to my favorite Starbucks for a morning of editing and formatting. I had a tall blonde roast coffee. I spoke with my friend Joanne and her husband. She is a local bank branch manager I see most mornings when I stop in for coffee.

I put the last touches on the formatting of my book “The Prairie Dogs Have Coal Miners’ Helmets With Lights and Other Stories”. It is available on Kindle February 9, 2014 in the United States, India, United Kingdom, Germany, France, Spain, Italy, Japan, Brazil, Canada, Mexico, and Australia.

Maybe the hardest part of the book was the dedication. I dedicated it to:

  • My wife Benita B. Kepler, who permits me to pursue my passion of writing.
  • My poet friend and beta reader Karen Vandiver Garrison for her encouragement.
  • My writing coach Linda Lee Tritton and the Wholehearted Writing Group: Marcie Aber, Sabrina “Sam” Chapman, Amy Koetter, Talya Tate Boerner and Storm Ricamore. I told them thank you for their beta reading and suggestions. I have grown to love them like family.

At 1:30 PM, I left Starbucks. I went to the gasoline station and filled my car up with gas.

Next, I returned home. My wife was still at work. My kitty greeted me. She was looking for tuna. I ate leftover meat loaf to her disappointment.

I retired to my home office and did more editing while watching/listening to The Seekers 25th Anniversary Reunion Concert from the early 1990s.

About 5:45 PM I moved from my office to the kitchen. I prepared pork chops, corn, green beans and pineapple for the evening meal. I had it ready when my wife came home from work about 6:45 PM.

Following dinner, I watched the conclusion of the Olympics opening ceremonies on DVR. I then retired to the kitchen. I put up the clean dishes in the dishwasher. I next rinsed the dinner dishes and placed them in the dishwasher. I washed the pots and pans in the sink. I made a pitcher of iced tea as well as taking up four trays of ice. I do not own an ice maker other than four ice trays.

I read the short story “Dehydration” by Grayson Queen. It was very interesting. It deals with the premise of what happens if the earth’s water supply becomes non-potable.

I also finalized arrangements for going to see the Dallas Symphony and Bernadette Peters tomorrow. The show is after church. It is at 2:30 PM.

Well, it’s about time for bed. In the name of shameless self-promotion, buy my book “The Prairie Dogs Have Coal Miners’ Helmets with Lights and Other Stories”. It’s available on Kindle at http://www.amazon.com/Prairie-Miners-Helmets-Lights-Stories-ebook/dp/B00IBRLH74/.

Photo Credit: The cover image use is with permission under Creative Commons Share-Alike License CC-BY-SA 3.0. Joe Ravi is the photographer.

Ten Things to Know About Me

Jimmie A. Kepler
Jimmie A. Kepler

1. I’m a writer of speculative fiction, nonfiction, poetry and a book reviewer. I primarily write science fiction and fantasy, poetry and review military history books. I sell a high percentage of my nonfiction. My bibliography is listed here.

2. I live with my wife in the Dallas – Fort Worth Area, but I’ve also lived in other places. I grew up a cold war era military brat. I did my bachelor and master’s degrees in Texas and my doctorate in California. Growing up I lived in Texas, Ohio, Texas, South Carolina, Illinois, South Carolina, Arizona, Texas, New Hampshire, and Texas. I have worked in Texas, Kansas, Georgia, Washington State, California, Idaho, and Louisiana.

3. A partial list of my hobbies: reading, computers, history, walking/hiking, guitar, customer care and caring for my wife and aging-parents. I have a strong commitment to lifelong learning.

4. I know a secret about the Texans. As a fifth generation Texan and member of Texas First Families I know a lot about Texans. Texans think they are smarter than you, know more than you, and come from the best place on earth. Texans are born with a bad infection of Hubris – self-confidence is abundant. Garrison Keillor adequately explained a Texan’s view of gun control. They view control as holding the weapon steady as they squeeze off the next round.

5. Yes, Jimmie A. Kepler is my real name. It is Jimmie with an ie, not James. Why? That’s is my father’s first name. The A is for Aaron. I was named after my paternal grandfather whose middle name was Aaron. He passed away eighteen years before I was born. Kepler is my last name. Yes it is the same as the famous mathematician and astronomer Johannes Kepler. Am I related to him? Heck if I know, but I’ll claim him.

6. I graduated from The University of Texas at Arlington with a BA degree in History and minors in military science and English (creative writing and grammar). I have a MA degree from Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary. I hold a EdD degree in educational administration.

7. In ancient history I was a commissioned officer in the US Army. I won the military draft with a lottery number of 25 back in the day. I even went to airborne school and jumped out of airplanes.  I’m honorably discharged at the rank of Captain.

8. Some people tell me I’m driven with lazor focus. I like to say I set and achieve goals.

9. I’ve been blogging and on the Internet since the 1990s. I used Compuserve all the way back to the mid 1970s. I used email as early as 1976 in the US Army and 1979 with CompuServe. I first used Chat in 1980. I’m an old dude. I’m older than Bill Gates or the late Steve Jobs.

10. I am a Christian. My faith impacts all areas of my life. I am not perfect, but forgiven. I won’t preach at you.

Poem: Why Won’t You Talk

Why Won’t You Talk

Why won’t you talk?
About the things that you feel
Yes it’s you and me
We share a common history

What can I do?
To get through to you
What can I say?
To make your pain go away

Once you enjoyed being in my arms
Your personality charmed
You were made for me
We shared our destiny

But now distant you’ve become
Like the setting sun
A million miles away
You never want to play

Despair has overtaken you
More deadly than the flu
Will you ever return to me?
The girl once that I did see

While we share our life
As husband and wife
Somewhere gloom and despair
We were a handsome pair

To death do we part
Was our pledge from the start
I will stay the course
God’s strength is my source

I count myself blessed
I married the best
A lover and a friend
Faithful to the end

A companion for life
Together we survived strife
You’ve put up with me
Forever grateful I will be

Still I wonder … why won’t you talk?
About the things that you feel
Yes it’s you and me
We share a common history

Jimmie A. Kepler
© 2008
Originally published in: WORDS..RHYMES..POETRY & PROSE!

The Muse and Me

Have you ever had a muse, or a muse-like experience where you felt so passionate, or “taken over” by a creative spirit or compulsion to express and create? This is more than just “in the zone” … it’s almost as if someone or something takes over and writes for you.

Four examples of a muse in my life are shared below.

Example One – I was taking a senior level English course with the ominous title “Transformational Grammar and Advanced Creative Writing”. The program was exactly as the title … a writing course that made sure you dissected the grammar. Remember diagraming sentences? This was far more interesting as it dismembered each sentence to parts of speech, syllables, suffixes/prefixes and even lower in the structure. You could get credit for the course as a senior level English or Linguistics class. The professor was my first muse. She believed in and encouraged my writing. She was , the first to point out the value of reading regularly, journaling, and submitting what you wrote. She helped get me published the first time in a university publication and then a historical study in a military magazine. She told me I should embrace a bohemian lifestyle and write full-time. She turned me on to Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell, Joan Baez, Sylvia Plath, Allen Ginsberg, William S. Burroughs, and Jack Kerouac.

Example Two – I was motivated to the point of being driven, to have a laser-focus. Me driven, can you believe? Anyway, I wanted to get into a doctoral program and needed to start getting published in my then chosen discipline – religious education. I went to the best conferences, met the right people, and paid the price. This wasn’t a once and done thing. It was getting one then two then three then four then five then six a year published. Sheer vanity … I wrote some very good articles like “What I Learned when a Church Member Died”, an article about preaching my first funeral and the shortcomings of the religious education curriculum to prepare the associate minister in this critical area is an example.

Example Three – Nancy Karen Vandiver Garrison … I know her from high school. We also went to the same university. We did prose interpretation and literary criticism together in University Interscholastic League competition way back 45 years ago. Thanks to social media and email we talk nearly every day for years and still do, as recently as in the last few seconds. She holds me accountable to keep on writing and never give up. More than anything, she encourages me to ignore the rejections. She also says what’s next when I get an acceptance. She is a darn good poet and supporter of the arts. Plus, we both love The Monkees!

Example Four – In 1992, I wrote 175 pages in one day for a nonfiction book I was working on. I have had some 50 to 75 page experiences in writing that happen the same way. Sometimes I have poems bounce around in my head and won’t quit talking to me until I relocate them to paper. It can be very surreal. I’ve had several magazine articles that I’ve sold to publications like Children’s Leadership, Preschool Leadership, Poetry & Prose Magazine and Bewildering Stories that just flowed almost perfectly.

I find the muse magically appears when I put my behind in the chair and write.

Background on Muses: The Muses, the personification of knowledge and the arts, especially literature, dance and music, are the nine daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne (memory personified). Hesiod’s account and description of the Muses were the one generally followed by the writers of antiquity. It was not until Roman times that the following functions were assigned to them, and even then there was some variation in both their names and their attributes:

  • Calliope -epic poetry;
  • Clio -history;
  • Euterpe -flutes and lyric poetry;
  • Thalia -comedy and pastoral poetry;
  • Melpomene -tragedy;
  • Terpsichore -dance;
  • Erato -love poetry;
  • Polyhymnia -sacred poetry;
  • Urania -astronomy.

Poem: New Year’s Eve

New Years Eve

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

New Year’s Eve was originally published: Kepler, Jimmie A. “New Year’s Eve,” Poetry & Prose Magazine, January 2012. Volume 3, Issue 15, Moonchild Designs, page 20. http://en.calameo.com/read/000339139f8d88e795466 (January 2012).

Poem: The Muse

The Muse

There was not a promise
when brought together
for anything but encouragement
and their love of verse.

When brought together
their passion for poetry
rekindled the creative embers in their hearts.

For anything but encouragement
would complicate life
as the words would tell.

And their love of verse
was a powerful bond
as each shared with the world their soul.

Jimmie A. Kepler
© April 2011

Attending a Writer’s Conference Can Be Awkward

Last Year's East Texas Christian Writer's Conference
Last Year’s East Texas Christian Writer’s Conference

I have attended various writersconferences for over thirty years. Today and tomorrow I am attending the East Texas Christian Writer’s Conference. It is the fourth time I’ve attended this conference.

Awkward describes attending a conference for the first time. This is especially true if you have never been to that particular conference or any writer‘s conference for that matter.

You need to accept that the conference is work and sacrifice. The sacrifice comes from the time and money you invest in the conference.

You made the choice using vacation time on yourself instead of spending it with a spouse and loved ones. Money is spent on the conference registration fees, travel, meals, lodging, and supplies like a new pen and notebook.

You learn that selecting the right conference for you and running the gauntlet of getting your partner to agree to your attendance, getting the time off work, registering for the meeting, obtaining lodging, and selecting the conferences to attend is work. It is work packing for the trip and then more work unpacking when it is over.

When you go to a new location and know no one it can be stressful and lonely. It can be scary as you meet new people including writers you are a fan of.

It involves choices. Which sessions do I attend? Should I skip a session I paid for to meet and mingle? The sessions are fun.

You look at not only what sessions and panels are there, but you look at the guest list. You focus on who is coming. Make a list of authors, publishers, and editors attending the conference. Ask which of these do I admire? Are there attendees that you would like to meet and make an impression upon?

Then you look at what agents you are interested in as well as what publishers you are interested in. Once you know the publisher you‘re interested in find out which editors work for them and who is going to be at the conference. This takes a little bit of research.

Look at the acknowledgements of your favorite book and usually you‘ll find out who edited the book. You then look at the guest list for the convention and find out who is present. You might have an editor or agent present you want to meet.

You need to find out what the agents, publishers, and editors are doing. Do not talk to them in the escalator, in the bathroom or when they are meeting with their top author for a meal. A good time to meet them is after a panel or after a session they taught. You need to have some follow-up questions for them. Tell them which of their works or authors you enjoy. Ask them what is coming up next. DO NOT mention your own work at this point. You can do that in other settings. For example, in some cases you can make appointments through the convention to pitch a completed manuscript to them.

I know a lot of writers are shy or introverted. That will rarely sell your book or manuscript. I am an outgoing introvert. I am not shy, but have a strong tendency toward being wholly or predominantly concerned with and interested in my own mental life instead of focusing on obtaining gratification from what is outside the self. You have to get over the shy. Writing isn’t a loner craft. It takes the community of the editor, publisher, and even publicists as well as the writer.

The most important part of the conference involves meeting new people and make a good impression. You are there to learn and to network. The networking is critical. You can encourage one another. You need to focus on always being nice, always being friendly, and always being courteous.

Attending a conference is a wonderful experience. I am doing it today and tomorrow.

Poem: By White Rock Creek

By White Rock Creek

I was hiking
by White Rock Creek
on a summer day
in the bright sun.
It was so hot
and I was all alone.

Lost in my thoughts
my foot struck the pathway
to the cadence
of the music
I was listening to
on my iPod.

By White Rock Creek
there were people
reading signs saying keep right
and a concrete path
with city dwellers walking
to and fro.

Lovers hand in hand
and it all made sense
except for the litter
on White Rock Creek’s banks
while across the way
was a broken down barbed-wired fence.

In the bright sun
not a cloud in the sky
there was sweat on my brow
running down my temples
as an old woman walked by
and she smiled at me showing her dimples.

It was so hot
I drank some water
lots of cool water
and the temperature
was 110 degrees
and that was in the shade.

Lost in my thoughts
my foot struck the pathway
to the cadence
of the music
I was listening to
on my iPod.

While I was hiking
by White Rock Creek
on a summer day
in the bright sun
it was so hot
and I was all alone.

Jimmie A. Kepler
© August 2011

Poem: Coffee

Coffee
By Jimmie Kepler

The timer starts the morning pot
brewing where it greets me
at the same time my alarm rings.

The first cup hides my morning breath
as it energizes the blood flowing through my veins
enabling me to stumble to my car
and drive to Starbucks for more.

A sunrise latte gives me the pick-me-up required
to face the tollway and morning rush hour.

A generic cup of Joe at work
gives me something to hold on to
as I begin the first
in a string of meetings.

A mid-morning cup of coffee
provides the jolt to make it to noon
where a fresh cup at my favorite café awaits.

Then a mid-afternoon cup
helps me survive the challenges
before the clock announces it is 5:00
and I can leave.

A drive-by Starbucks
provides the lift
before I sit in traffic
during evening drive time.

A fresh pot greets me
along with my
after-dinner pie and ice cream.

I fill the pot with water,
add fresh grounds
and set the controls before retiring for the evening.

And the timer starts the morning pot
brewing where it greets me
at the same time my alarm wakes me.

“Coffee” by Jimmie A. Kepler originally appeared in the September 23, 2013 issue of vox poetica Magazine.

Comments about Coffee and Jimmie’s poetry:

  • Jean – “Jimmie! Beautifully written and all too true. I like the way you ended as you began. Thank you so much for this engaging poem.”
  • Annmarie – “Jimmie Kepler writes a love poem to a rock star.”
  • Marissa – “I heard Jimmie do a reading of ‘Forever Still’ in Plano, Texas about a year ago. His poetry has the passion of the Beat Poets, the tenderness of the hippie poets, and the intellect of the renaissance man. His southern gentleman manners and charm as well as his soothing, Bill Clinton like voice and pacing makes a girl dream of being in his arms, curled up by the fireplace as he holds and reads his magical words to her. I love his poems “Forever Still” and “While You Were Sleeping”.

My Writing Room

Jimmie A. Kepler here, greetings from the blast furnace called north Texas and the Dallas-Fort Worth area. The temperature reached 109 degrees on my front porch today. That’s hot!

This morning I went to Starbucks for my morning writing. I love the early morning right before the sun comes up. There is a peacefulness found there not found elsewhere. Starbucks is where I do about third of my writing. I do over half of my writing at home. I thought today I would show you   my modest home office. It is a combination bedroom/office. It is the bedroom where I sleep each night.

I’ve created a three-minute and fifty-one second video tour of my home office. I hope you have as much fun seeing the video as I had making it.

My home office, by Jimmie A. Kepler …