The Inertia Chronicles

Stopping Inertia: PROLOGUE “I cannot see why your sister had the gumption to get herself killed in the city then be buried in the country. Now every cotton-picking Christmas, we have to drive 150 God damned miles to put lilies on her grave. You’d think she’d have some manners and, at least, make it convenient for us and bury herself in Arlington.” “Daddy, we also have to put the lilies on Momma’s grave. It’s only noon. Can we please go back to Nethkin Hill and look for Clarence?” “Mommy, I am not going back for that God damned cat!” As Daddy yelled at mommy, her eyes were tearing up, not because she was crying but because she was mildly allergic to the pollen in flowers. She was used to Daddy’s yelling and rarely cried when he lashed out at her. “And I will never understand what it is with the women in your family and their fascination for fresh flowers. Next year, we’re putting out plastic ones and skippin’ a year or two.” “But that cat is my baby.” “Yeah, well

How to Make a "Wee" Every so often when I was a child my parents loaded up the old dark green Chrysler Custom Newport with a couple of suitcases and perched me on the front seat between them. I was allowed one barbie doll, a package of baby wipes and my metal Dukes of Hazzard lunch box which held the o nly things I would eat at the age of five; a mustard sandwich and a warm thermos full of Campbell's chicken noodle soup. The des tination was always the same, Oakland, Maryland by way of Elk Garden, West Virginia. My father would visit his brother, who ran the old family farm and my mother would drive the giant piece of nineteen seventy-three machinery with me the rest of the way to the western Maryland panhandle. Occasionally on these trips I would get car sick. My father was a "jerky" driver according to my Uncle Pete, plus I was quite small, making it difficult for me to see out of the window (remember, this was the seventies when car seats were on

In celebration of almost finishing Cursing Django , the follow up book to Stopping Inertia . I am finally making a blog entry - better late than never, right? I started writing Stopping Inertia in 2008 after the name came to me on my morning walk through hilly Montpelier, Vermont. I wanted to write a Forrest Gump -esque story about a girl named Inertia who never faced her problems, repeating the same mistakes again and again. In the process she would have adventures, and help others in dire situations all while she avoided to confront her own fears, wrecked relationships, Daddy issues, etc. Needless to say, the book didn't end up like I had planned. Instead it was a love story about a woman, Grace, who lived her life as a recluse until she stumbled upon a car accident. Grace witnesses a baby fly out of a car while the assumed parents plummet down the mountain to their deaths. Grace claims the baby girl as her own, naming her Inertia and raising her with her best friend. Years