Paula Shablo's Blog: From Em's Pen

I don't do this often, but I thought I would mention that I have an author page on Facebook, as well as my page here on Goodreads. If you'd like to visit, you can find it here: https://www.facebook.com/paulamshablo/

I can also be found on Amazon, here: https://www.amazon.com/Paula-Shablo/e...

I love writing, but self-promotion is a drag. Still, I have no one else to do it for me, so there ya go.

I would really LOVE it if you'd visit my pages and take a look around.

Thanks!

Emma ususally gets to do this, but tonight, it is all me. Paula.

I would be very interested in hearing from other authors who have tried Amazon's KDP Kindle Countdown sales for their books. What was your experience? Do you feel that it generated sales--or any interest whatsoever--for the book you were promoting? Would you try it again?

Emma: Hey, Paula, get off my blog!

Paula: No way, Em, you've been slacking, and I needed to ask a question. I'm working really hard on your sequel and on Roger's sequel. I know you're chasing the twins around, but how about a little cooperation?

Emma: It's not all me, Paula. I see you juggling caretaking duties, running back and forth between two homes and chasing that new puppy around. She's adorable, by the way.

Paula: If you ever feel you're not getting enough exercise, get one like her.

Emma: Or twins!

Paula: Oh, yeah. Can't argue with that.

Emma: What's with this question of yours?

Paula: Feeling frustrated that no one seems to even know these countdowns are happening. At least MY countdowns.

Emma: Hang in there, sister. It'll get better.

Paula: Thanks, Em. Next blog is all yours. And by the way, I meant it: you're slacking.

Emma: I'll try to do better. Go to bed.

Paula: You, too. Goodnight.

Seriously, author friends, I really would like to hear from you. KDP countdown sales--do they work for you?

Thanks!

Sunday, July 4, 1976

Dear Diary--

Well, it's the 4th of July again. But this one is a little special. It's the Bicentennial celebration this year. That means it has been 200 years since our very first Independence Day.

That's cool, I guess. It's America's anniversary. Or birthday. Whatever.

Just for laughs, I'll tell you what's up in America today.

Everyone is wearing stars and stripes today. Hats, t-shirts, dresses. They look silly, if you ask me, but danged if I didn't go out and get Freddie and I matching stars and stripes caps. What a sucker I am.

The number one song is "Silly Love Songs" by Paul McCartney and Wings. Yes, that Paul MeCartney--the cutest Beatle. I have the album, but I liked Band on the Run better.

I don't know what the number one movie is, but Don Knotts is in a movie with a mule named Gus who can kick touchdowns in football games. It's playing now, so I took Freddie to see it last night and he laughed himself silly. It was cute. I like Don Knotts.

Other than that, picnics and barbecues and fireworks.

I'm not all that fussed about fireworks, though.

Freddie is all excited. He's three now, and he has decided that there's nothing better than a lot of noisy, smoke and choke firecrackers and sparklers. Matt's been talking about it all week, so of course Freddie's on board. The family has gone out to the lake to shoot bottle rockets and Roman candles out over the water.

I'm staying home with Duke. Poor old guy is scared to death every year. The lake is just as bad as town, so it doesn't matter where he goes, he's a mess. I am, too, for that matter. All the smoke and crap in the air is a bit of a nightmare for my asthma.

I figured I might have to argue my way out of a trip to the lake, but it turned out to be easy.

I worked today--holiday be damned, folks have got to have their fried chicken. We were crazy busy today! I am bushed. I came home smelling like chicken, so I took a shower and now I am going to eat my own chicken dinner and settle down for some HBO. There should be something good on.

We'll be in the basement when the fireworks start. I will wrap old Duke in a quilt and use him as a footstool. I don't know why, but it calms him down. Crazy dog.

I've got a Coke and some chocolate chip cookies, so I am set.

Happy 200th, America!

See ya, Diary.

Em

June 20, 1975

Dear Diary--

I heard a new song on the radio today, it was really catchy. It's called "Love Will Keep Us Together" by some Captain guy...but a lady singer. I am going to have to listen for it again and figure out who this is. I would buy that single.

It's hot. Stupid hot. I can't go outside until the sun goes down, so at least it will be nice out. They sprayed for mosquitos this week, so maybe I won't get eaten alive.

Melody and I saw on t.v. that the movie "Jaws" is coming out today, but it's not showing here yet. On the noon news, we saw that there are big lines for it in Hollywood, so we plan to go when it comes. I read the book already, so I can only hope the movie is the same.

They never are.

In ghost news, some guy showed up last night who said he was my uncle Filipe. He's trying to figure out what happened to his family after he died when his wagon ran into a ravine in New Mexico. So I'm going to call Grandpa and see if he knows who Felipe is, because Dad said he has no idea. I reckon Gramps should be home from work around 6.

For the record, diary--I really hate some of the New Mexico stuff. All they did down there for decades was fight with each other and burn public records. You probably think I'm kidding, but I'm not!

I guess I shouldn't complain. Felipe speaks English, at least.

By the way, I'm really dumb. I chose French as my foreign language. Should have picked Spanish.

Maybe I can change it later.

High school, can you believe it? I'm looking forward to Journalism and photography. I'm not all that fussed about any foreign language classes. I also got Creative Writing and Drama! Algebra (gag & puke). Chemistry was filled before I even turned in my schedule requests, so I guess the school can be grateful. I'd probably end up blowing up the lab. I got a break, but I will have to take a science class Junior year for sure. I have band and choir, of course.

Yeah, yeah, I know it's still summer, but I'm getting bored.

Mom's going to drive us to the library now. Bye!

Em

May 4, 1974

Dear Diary--

Wow. 14 years old.

Last year I thought I was so cool because I was a teenager at last. This year feels pretty much the same, but I'm not all that fussed about my teen status.

I'm feeling a little like a fake, honestly. Supposedly I'm growing up, getting to be a "big girl", getting closer to being an adult.

Today I feel so young, and so much like I really don't care about being any older.

Don't take that the wrong way, Diary. I'm not talking about wanting to check out or anything like that. It's just that...well, I talk to these people, these relatives of mine, and they had so many issues to deal with.

Being an adult seems like a lot of trouble and a lot of work and I just would like to be an irresponsible kid for a while longer. I want to do stuff that kids do--go to dances and ball games. Go fishing and climb trees.

Aaron asked me to go to the movies with him this weekend, and I think I might. It's just a matinee, not a real date or anything. He seems nice. He hasn't seen me talking to ghosts yet, though, so...time will tell.

Melody gave me a 45 record today called "Loco-Motion" by a group called Grand Funk Railroad. She informed me that it's number one on the charts this week. It's a great song, and I'm lucky to have that chick around to keep my mind occupied with REAL teenage stuff.

(Don't tell her that, though!)

Mom and Dad got me a book and--I can hardly believe it!!--Alice Cooper's album Muscle of Love. I think Mom is already regretting it. Ha ha. But Freddie loves it. He danced around the basement with me when I played it this evening. He's so dang cute!

I really like the album, but I don't think there's a number one hit on it. Sorry, Alice. I still love you!

Okay, diary, I'm going to go read my new book! Happy Birthday to us!

Em

May 29, 1987

Dear Diary,

Sometimes I think the world has gone mad. People are kind of nuts, you know?

We like Michael Jackson in this house. The babies get up on their hands and knees and rock to the beat of his music. I sometimes turn on MTV, which is a station that plays music videos, and Michael Jackson is on every other song, I think.

So today, he did something weird that made the news. He tried to buy the remains of the Elephant Man!

Who would do such a thing?

Oh, the Elephant man was a real man named Joseph Merrick who had Proteus syndrome (they recently proved this somehow) and over time he became very deformed. He died almost 100 years ago. Before he died, he was displayed in freak shows. Aren't humans wonderful? NOT!

Anyway, I heard on the late news that Michael Jackson had tried to buy his remains. I have no idea why...

I guess when you're such a big star, you can be weird.

We still like his music.

See, this is why I hate to watch the news!

Back in the real world--or as real as it gets in my world--I spent half the day looking for my driver's license. I was about to go crazy. It's been missing for days. Just when I decided I would have to go get a new one, Aunt Rachel showed up and told me to look in the book I finished reading last week. So I went to the bookshelf--the one in the bedroom--and got the book down, and sure enough, there it was. So, note to self: It's a driver's license, not a book mark, dummy!

Ghosts come in really handy sometimes, diary.

The twins are asleep. I'm going to try to be asleep, now, too, since this could change at any time. Ha ha!

Good night, friend.

Every time we try something new, we risk failure. Every single time. It doesn't matter what it is, we will succeed or we will fail.

Sometimes the fear of failure is paralyzing. You make excuses, put it off. Will you push through or give up?

It's a conundrum.

Whenever I feel like I just can't do something, that I am doomed to fail before I even get started, I make myself remember watching my babies learn to walk.

Every single step was the one that would lead to a fall. Every stumble was the one that could lead to a bump or bruise.

Did that make me choose to carry that child around for the rest of his life? No.

More importantly--did it make that child WANT to be carried around for the rest of his life? Absolutely not.

All my babies grew up and walked on their own. They still walk. Sometimes they run.

Heck, so do I. It's not pretty, and it hurts like hell, but if I have to run, I can do it.

It's easy to point out that babies learning to walk have less distance to fall than a grownup person taking that first step towards triumph or failure, and that is true enough. I certainly wouldn't like to be taking my first steps at this stage of the game.

But my father had to when he broke his femur. My mother had to when she had her knee replacement surgeries.

They got up and took those steps. And when it hurt, they did it again. That is triumph.

I have had my triumphs in life. And God knows, I have certainly had my failures. But even those things I tried and failed at were things that led to other triumphs.

I did not excel at marriage. I tried, but failed. However, during those trying years, I gave birth to beautiful children. I raised them into beautiful adults. Now they have given me beautiful grandchildren. That is triumph. And those things happened because I tried something and failed.

I tried shrimp. I failed to like it. The only triumph that day was that my dining companion got to eat the shrimp. One of us was happy, and I survived the ordeal by ordering a brownie-a-la-mode.

Failing is hard, Interviewing for a job you don't get, auditioning for a role that goes to someone else, submitting a manuscript and getting a rejection letter are all things that we might have to go through.

But those things are not the end. Like that baby taking his first steps, we can choose to pick ourselves up and dust ourselves off and take another step.

Go on. Take a step. Just one step at a time. You can do it!

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June 10, 1074

Dear Diary,

Ever since I can remember, I have talked to the ancestors.

Well, also The Great-Grandmother, a few times. She's the only one I ever actually met before they were dead. And I really don't remember her from before she was dead. I remember seeing her when she was very, very sick before she died, but I don't remember her LIVING.

You know what I mean? It's hard to explain this, even to myself. See, I don't remember her cooking for us, even though Mom tells me that she did. I don't remember going to church with her, or opening Christmas presents with her or playing with her hats. Those are just things that other people tell me we did together.

I never did see Aunt Connie while we were cleaning out the house.

I know Grandpa was disappointed, but at least he didn't seem very surprised. He said he would be more surprised if I did.

When I asked him why, he told me his father once said he reckoned a spirit needed some time to come to terms with its new condition before checking on things that had been left behind.

I suppose that makes sense. But if I was a ghost, I would want to jump right back to my house and check on Mom and Dad, because they probably wouldn't take it very well.

And if one of them was a ghost...

Dang! I don't even want to finish that thought!

Okay. I would WANT them to come to me right away.

Maybe they can't.

When I ask why they do things, or don't do things, I never get a straight answer. I don't know if they won't talk, can't talk or just don't know. It's frustrating.

Right now, I just want to say that it's easier this way--not having known them when they were here.

If Aunt Connie shows up anytime soon, I will just fall apart. And that won't help Grandpa a bit.

I'm not good at this, Diary.

Your Friend,

Emma


Author's Note 03-20-2018

For myself, I would love to return to the easier days, those days when I personally did not know many people who had passed on. This month has been a difficult one; I lost a nephew last week. My son in law lost a childhood friend the week before. Today I lost a childhood friend. There have been questions that cannot be answered, regrets that can never be reconciled, and so many tears.

Emma's assertion that it's easier to see those ancestors she never knew in life--it seems genuine to me. If I were to see my friend right now, or my nephew, I certainly would fall apart.

Paula