A Message from the President…

The format of the monthly meetings has been changed in response to comments concerning subject matter and length of business meetings. The officers met prior to the July 2009 meeting and submit the following schedule of club activities for the months through January 2010.

Please consider the schedule and plan to voice a critique of the activities as to appeal, interest and impact upon membership growth. The February 2010 meeting will include an evaluation of this prototype for club monthly activities.

Schedule of Events: August 2009 thru February 2010

August 2009 Two meeting sessions – CRITIQUE by JORY

Thurs. 8/6 & 8/27 Time: 7:00 p.m. until 8:30 p.m. No business sessions

Location: Pizza Inn, Hwy. 271 North of Pittsburg, Texas

NOTE: This is a change in location from that

previously announced

Format: Five readers will be selected for each session.

Selection will be based on date of name submission to:

netwomail@netwo.org., i.e., first come, first selected.

The CRITIQUE by JORY sessions are open to members and non-

NETWO members. For more information, go to www.netwo.org.

. All are urged to attend, enjoy some good pizza as your supper and

your payment for the generosity of the Pizza Inn owners in

allowing the meeting to be held in their lovely facility, plus the

sessions will allow you to listen to interesting reading and critique.

September 2009 Regular business meeting with members reading selections. To be

Thurs. 9/10 held at the Western Sizzlin, Mt. Pleasant, TX. at 5:30 p.m.

October 2009 Regular business meeting and guest speaker (pending). To be held

Thurs. 10/8 at the Western Sizzlin, Mt. Pleasant, Tx. at 5:30 p.m.

November 2009 Regular meeting. Member readings – Holiday theme. To be held

Thurs. 11/12 at the Western Sizzlin, Mt. Pleasant, TX. at 5:30 p.m.

Special Project: Team Writing (two-person team) to create a

special short story of 2000 to 2500 words. Any genre. To be read

in competition at the January monthly meeting.

December 2009 Theme party, location pending. Covered dish meal. White

Thurs. 12/10 elephant gifts. Ten-minute extemporaneous writing exercise—

subject derived from a prompt provided by Michele Chitsey. All

to read their stories. Gather at 4:30 p.m. Location to be announced.

January 2010 Regular meeting. Main activity: Reading of team stories. Winner

Thurs. 01/14 selection by a three-person team. Meeting held at the Western

Sizzlin, Mt. Pleasant, Tx. Business at 5:30 p.m.

February 2010 Regular meeting. Evaluation of the effectiveness of the past six

Thurs. 02/11 months’ programs will be made. The usual Valentine’s Day observance will be held.

Note: Meals are suggested to be taken as a means of thanking the firm for the use of their meeting room at the Western Sizzlin Restaurant. t

Minutes of NETWO July 2009 Meeting

Twelve members of the Northeast Texas Writers’ Organization met July 9, 2009 at the Western Sizzlin in Mount Pleasant, Texas at 5:30 p.m.

Ted Rankin presided over the meeting. Bryan Freeman gave the Treasurer’s report. NETWO has a balance of $8,738.57 in the bank. Ted asked Bryan Freeman to share the summary of the officers’ meeting held earlier in the afternoon. (Since this topic was covered in the “Message From the President”, it will not be repeated here.)

Karen Witt suggested putting a blurb in the area newspapers to help build new interest in our organization. Karen volunteered to inform Mount Pleasant and Pittsburg; Joy Chitsey will contact Mount Vernon, and Bill Carl will contact the Texarkana area.

Jackie Brown suggested selling NETWO’s Anthologies during the August Critique Sessions.

End of Business Meeting.

Readers for the night were Skip Hughes reading his new poems. Bill Carl read a short story contest entry entitled “A Crack in the Wall.” Jackie Brown read from her vampire novel, “Lonely.”

Submitted (in entirety) by Michele Chitsey, Secretary

SUBMISSIONS TO

EAST TEXAS JOURNAL

We all like the idea of being published, of people reading and enjoying something we have written. Several stories and articles written by NETWO members have been published in the East Texas Journal. Hudson Olds is selective, however. He is interested in East Texas people, events, and the type of things that might have happened in East Texas. In other words, a fiction story needs to have a country theme or flavor.

Editors, publishers, and authors speaking at our conferences have told us over and over to study a magazine or newspaper and write the kind of story they are printing. A pet magazine would probably turn their nose up at a really good science fiction story set on a far off planet.

For those interested in writing for the East Texas Journal, please study Hudson Old’s web page. He has page after page of interesting pictures and stories about East Texas. His web page address is: http://www.titushistory.com/media_etj_01.html. The side bar takes you to hundreds of photos of people and places in East Texas. I’m sure you will enjoy browsing through this web site.

Keep writing and have fun with it.

-- Galand Nuchols

EVENTS

The Departing Spirits, A Short Story Collection is the latest book by Janice Monk Glass. It will be released in September 2009. cover photo - The Departing Spirits

One of the stories starts just below, in this issue. ?

WRITERS’ WORKSHOP

Sherman Jory Sherman will give a comprehensive writers’ workshop at Winnsboro Center for the Arts from 10:00 a.m. to 11:30 a.m., four Saturdays in September. Cost is $45.00 for all four weeks.

You will learn how to start and finish scenes for your novel and stories.

Bring your story, chapter, poem, essay or article for an instructive and constructive critique plus a full course on writing.

The class is limited so register early. Make check or money order payable to Winnsboro Center for the Arts, 200 North Market Street, P. O. Box 342, Winnsboro, Texas 75494, Tel. 903-342-0686. Include name, phone number and e-mail address. ?

East Texas Book Fest

Sponsors of the first East Texas Book Fest invite published writers to be a part of the first book festival in East Texas.

The event is scheduled for September 25^th

10:00 a.m. – 6:00 p.m., Ornelas Activity Center, Tyler, Texas. A Book Fest committee will select participating authors by genre so that the event showcases books that appeal to a diverse audience. They advise they can accommodate a lot of authors, but the space is not limitless and they urge authors to apply soon.

A $20 fee covers your space (1/2 of a 6-foot table), table cover, a sign with your name on it, bottled water, and badges for two people. Registration forms are due September 1 or before.

Call 903-597-9111 or email ETXBookFest@gamil.com for a registration form or more information. Enclose a check or money order with your registration. Credit cards are not accepted. ?

Caleb’s Journey

By Janice Monk Glass

Caleb’s sore, burning feet limped across the asphalt parking lot, trying to avoid sizzling pools of tar drawn from the pavement by relentless July sun.

“That’s just like Old Man Hatfield to put him out in the middle of the scorching parking lot,” Sam Adams growled while he watched him through the café window. “Old Hatfield’s probably watching right now, laughing at him for blistering his feet. Couldn’t put him out in the park where there’re shade trees and a cool place for him to sleep tonight.

“He was at my house day before yesterday. Millie and I wanted him to stay with us for awhile, but he was hurrying to get home. Poor little tired feller. Took him two days to get here from my house.”

Caleb’s dark matted curls hadn’t seen a brush for two days. His face was smeared with mustard from the hotdog lunch a sympathetic vendor gave him from his cart a half hour earlier.

“Are you lost?” He’d asked Caleb.

Caleb wished he could answer him. His liquid brown eyes thanked him before he gulped the food. It was the only food he’s eaten for a couple of days. He’d wanted for another but it wasn’t to come.

“I can’t give you another one. Wish I could but I have to sell the others today. Old Hatfield counts every dog before he sends me out here to sell’em. You’d better git along now or he’ll haul us both off to the sheriff.”

He’d turned and started to walk away when Hatfield grabbed him by the back of his neck and threw him into his car. “Can’t have no homeless beggars hanging ‘round my snack bar. Who do you belong to anyway?”

He’d carried him across town and pushed him out onto the sweltering parking lot in front of his competitor’s café. “Go hang out at his front door and run his customers away instead of mine. Gad, you stink. When’s the last time you had a bath?”

Caleb didn’t bother to wash after lunch. His travels would wear it away before he rested tonight. Maybe he’d sneak into the lake at the park after Sheriff Gainer made his last rounds. The spring-fed lake would feel cool on his tired aching body and wash away some of the road grime.

That night after his dip in the lake, tempting aromas of baking bread drew him down the street and into the alley behind the baker.

Eddie the baker saw him hiding behind a dumpster.

“Hey, whose little boy are you? Are you hungry? Won’t talk, huh? Cat got your tongue?” He laughed at his own joke and held out a loaf of bread.

Caleb tiptoed forward and gratefully took the food from his hand, tore it apart and hungrily devoured it.

Eddie went to his truck and pulled out a blanket, placing it behind the garbage cans. “Here’s something for you to sleep on tonight.” He patted the top of Caleb’s curly head and laughed. “Wife won’t let me bring you home. I’d let you stay in the store tonight, but you’d probably eat me out of house and home.”

After Eddie finished baking and went upstairs for the night, Caleb leaned against the garbage can and pulled out two more loaves of stale bread. He ate most of one and hid the other under the blanket to save for tomorrow.

Caleb wanted his home by the ocean while he lay in the dark alley. He’d loved the beach and had played in the waves to his heart’s content. Justin, the little boy who lived down the beach was his best friend and he missed him. Folks in the beach houses would laugh and say, “Here come Justin and Caleb. Which one is which? You can’t tell them apart when they’re both covered with sand.”

At dusk his dad would call, “Caleb, come home. It’s time for your bath and supper.”

He’d run home and Dad would spray him with the water hose to wash off the sand. Then he’d dry him with a soft towel, hug him and brush the hair from his eyes before he’d let him into the cottage to stretch out on the sofa. After dinner he’d bask in the soft glow of the television while his parents shared cookies and popcorn with him.

They were gone to town the day a man stopped his minivan on the beach and offered his favorite cookies to him. He thought the man came to see his parents so he climbed into the van with him to wait for them, and the man drove away. They’d crossed the Florida line into Georgia before Caleb was sure he’d been taken from his family.

He’d cried and tried to open the door to get out, but it was locked and the man yelled at him and told him to “shut up.” When they stopped for gas at a busy truck stop the man turned and shoved him onto the floorboard. “Stay out of sight. If you make a sound I’ll kill you.”

Little Caleb understood kill – hurt, bloody, flattened, not breathing, dead. He remembered the family cat when she tried to cross the highway one night. He’d found Rosie the next morning and his family had dug a deep hole in the flowerbed and put her into the ground. Gone forever.

Three days later they’d just crossed into Alabama when the man drove into the woods so they could take a leak and sleep for the night. He’d forgotten to tie him up after their last stop and Caleb silently crept into the woods and kept going. He ran until he couldn’t move anymore and then collapsed behind a log and waited to catch his breath and rest his body.

Far into the distance he heard the man, who said his name was Terence, calling him but he didn’t move. He lay still and listened while the vile, cursing man crashed around in the woods searching for him. That night mosquitoes whined around his head. Stinging things crawled on his skin and his face and ears burned from insect bites.

Early the next morning Caleb heard the noisy muffler of the old maroon van when Terence started the backfiring junker and sputtered away.

Several minutes passed before he dragged his aching body to his feet and cautiously approached the blacktop farm road. He knew home was back the way they’d come. Afraid to walk beside the road, he chose to trek through the fields where he could hide in case his abductor returned.

He remembered the pleasant park in the small town where they stopped two days ago for his abductor to work on the van’s overheated engine. Maybe he could find his way back to the park.

Hours later he came to a farmhouse. Wonderful food aromas wafted from the kitchen. Caleb crept to the back porch and pushed open the screen door.

No one was there.

Sitting on a bench beside the table, he was halfway through the platter of fried chicken when Millie Adams returned from the henhouse with a basket filled with eggs.
She saw Caleb with a chicken leg hanging from his mouth. “You poor little thing,” she murmured. “Where did you come from? Who are your folks?”

Caleb hung his head in shame. She was a nice lady and he’d eaten her food. He tried to give the chicken leg back to her.

“That’s alright, sweet boy. You can have it. There’s plenty of fryers where that one came from. Eat all you want.” She bent her matronly body to clean up the mess he’d dropped on the floor.

“My goodness. It looks like you’re eating bones and all. You’re really hungry.” She laughed, “My ol’ man will just have to settle for what’s left when he comes home for lunch.”

That evening after he finished a supper of more chicken, biscuits and gravy, he sat on the back porch and looked to the east. Home was that way. He looked toward the man and woman working in the garden. They were good people and would let him stay with them, but he wanted his own folks. Going to the garden, he gave them each a kiss before turning toward the road.

“Goodbye, little boy,” Millie told him. “I know you want to go home, wherever it is. May God be with you on your journey.”

Sam stood and watched him out of sight. “Sure was easy to get attached to that little guy. Wish he’d stayed here until we could find his folks.” He shook his head, “Anything can happen out there. Smart little feller. Sure is small to be on his own like that.”

Caleb lay on the blanket behind the baker and dozed off thinking of Sam and Millie Adams. They were good people like his folks. Tomorrow he’s go east again. His feet were sore but he had to keep going.

To be continued…