It's All Good

The site is up and running again! So in celebration, I'll share some other good things... like good books!

I'll start with a recommendation for younger readers: The Sherlock Files: The 100-Year-Old Secret by Tracy Barrett. Tracy is a good friend of mine and a terrific writer. If you haven't read Cold In Summer, On Etruscan Time, or Anna of Byzantium (my personal favorite), you've missed out. Get them and read them! But on to the latest: The 100-Year-Old Secret kicks off a new middle grade mystery series by Barrett featuring the sibling sleuths Xena and Xander Holmes. Two typical American kids, they are less than certain about their futures when their parents move the family to London, England. They have to get used to new words ("biscuits" for "cookies"), new foods ("scones and clotted cream") and a new school (complete with uniforms— horrors!). But things get even crazier when they learn their great-great-great-grandfather was the real Sherlock Holmes— and they are given his casebook of unsolved mysteries as a gift. Xena and Xander can't resist a challenge, and pretty soon are off to track down a famous painting that's been missing since 1904. The book is a lot of fun and the two heroes are easy to like. Clues abound throughout the book, aided by sketches of the casebook's pages, so reading detectives can figure out the clever solution along with Xena and Xander. Suitable for ages 9-12, but older mystery lovers will enjoy it too!

When it comes to good reads, there's just something about England— specifically, the British Empire— that makes for great stories. Two recent jewels in the crown are Philip Reeve's Larklight and Starcross, set in a fanciful Victorian era Empire that has expanded into outer space. Mix a pirate yarn with an espionage novel, stir in massive quantities of steampunk science fiction and add a dash of Lemony Snicket style humor and you wind up with these two tall tales. The narration by the eleven-year-old Art Mumby (interrupted by his not-so-prim-as-she-tries-to-be fifteen-year-old sister Myrtle) is spot on. Our stalwart hero is convinced that no alien plot, however dark and devious, can stand up to British pluck— and off he goes to prove it, in rollicking style. These books are meant to be read, especially as the over-the-top illustrations just add to the humor (when the very proper Myrtle expresses certainty that the illustrator won't depict her in her nightgown, the next page does just that!). Indeed, the best way to give you a full appreciation for these two books is to repeat their full titles:
Larklight : Or the Revenge of the White Spiders! or to Saturn's Rings and Back!: A Rousing Tale of Dauntless Pluck in the Farthest Reaches of Space
and
Starcross: A Stirring Adventure of Spies, Time Travel and Curious Hats
What more needs to be said? Read 'em, by Jove!

And huzzah! A third book will be released on October 15:Mothstorm: The Horror from Beyond Uranus Georgium Sidus!

Yes indeed, life is good!

Please Excuse the Mess

If you've been to my web site in the past day or so, you've either seen a big sign slapped on by AOL announcing that their hosting services are shutting down, or you've gotten a 404 error, or seen a page with a lot of missing graphics and bad links.

Like the guy with the snarky waiter, I'm having "server issues."

Fortunately, I've found a better host. But that means I'm in the middle of changing everything (and that's a lot) to the new server. And I do my web sites myself, which means at the moment that things are a bit... ugly. (Well, uglier than usual.)

The good news is I do have a new server.

The good news is I do have all my web site files on my main hard drive, and can easily... okay somewhat easily... upload them to the new server.

The bad news is that the new server treats filenames in the code with Capital letters as separate files from ones with lowercase letters, even if the name is the same. So when my site code calls for "AboutMe.html," the new server doesn't recognize that as a call for the file "aboutme.html." (I'm hoping for a simple fix, 'cause otherwise I have a lot of tedious code checking and file renaming to do.)

But the last bit of good news is that this blog is separate and working great.

Thanks for bearing with me while I sort things out!

--- Howard Shirley

The Last Call

One by one across the water
March captains, privates, generals, all.
One by one they leave the struggle;
One by one they heed the call.
Leaders, servants, fighters, clerks;
Brave men, wise men,
Rash men, fools;
Learnéd men and laborers,
Men of thought and men of tools.
One by one across the water;
One by one they leave the fight.
How their hearts burst forth in laughter
As the darkness yields to light!
Captains, privates, generals, cooks—
Good men, brave men, heroes all—
Dearest comrades greet their coming
to the final muster call.
How the ranks stretch on to Glory!
How sweet sings out the bugle’s tone!
'Til their Captain signals silence—
"Peace, my brothers. Welcome home."

In memory of Corporal (T-5) Asa Ambrister, US Army, 1942-1946. Veteran, attorney, husband, father, grandfather, and my father-in-law.

July 23, 1924 September 26, 2008.

©2008 by Howard Shirley

--- Howard Shirley

Arrrrghhh!!!!

It be Talk Like A Pirate Day, matey!

Aye, 'tis the day when true gentlemen and ladies o' fortune bespeak each other in the grand manner o' the pirates of old. (Or at least classic Hollywood). So buckle on yer swash, swagger up to yer mates and give 'em a hearty "Aaarrrghhh!!!"

An if ye be in need o' some piratey inspiration, set sail for yer local treasure place o' books and fill yer hold with some old sea tales:

Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson, the father of such grand piratey sayings as: "Fifteen men on a dead man's chest, yo ho ho and a bottle o' rum," and "Pieces of Eight!"

Captain Blood by Rafael Sabatini. 'Tis a tale of adventure, romance, and heroism on the high seas, and the source of the classic Errol Flynn flick. A must for every pirate library! Aarrghh!

The Dark Frigate by Charles Boardman Hawes. A spirited lad of England ships aboard a merchant vessel, only to run afoul of a cruel pirate captain who forces him to join his crew. These be real pirates, lad, not some lubbers in a silly hat. A Newbery winner, which is better than a gold doubloon!

The Wreckers by Iian Lawrence. Not all pirates ply the seas, mateys. On a stormy night, the lights on the shore may not be friends o' the sailor...

The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle by Avi. 'Tis not a tale o' piracy, but 'tis a grand sea tale just the same. A thirteen year old landlubber of a girl must learn the ways o' the sea when she's caught between a mutinous crew and their captain... and winds up accused of murder. Picked up a bit o' silver from the Newbery crew, and that's no treasure to sneer at!

There be plenty more good books (and some fine bits o' film too) to fill yer piratey sails, so keep a weather eye out, yer sails taut, and yer powder dry!

Aarrrgghhh!!!!

--- Cap'n Howarrghd P-)

Revise, Share, and Revise Some More.

The workshop on Saturday at the Franklin Library was a lot of fun (I certainly had fun, and from the smiles on the young writers' faces, I think they did as well). Each person thought up a first sentence for a story. Then we went through and changed the sentence ten different ways; some basic (changing the tense, changing the point of view) and some radical (write in the style of Robert Louis Stevenson; write the sentence in rhyme). By the end we had some amazing differences from where we started. It's a great way to experiment with language and have fun with an idea— and even discover a story you never intended! (Again, kudos to Jennifer Wingertzahn of Clarion Books for introducing me to this terrific idea.)

We followed up with a more focused exercise, with each person choosing an object in the room and writing a description of it, as if the object were part of a story. Once we'd finished, we made a change: we had to describe the object again from the opposite point of view— if our first description was positive, we had to make the new description negative, and vice versa. (Thanks go to my good friend Ruta Sepetys for teaching me this one!)

I chose a half-eaten doughnut (yes, I do the stuff I ask you to do; it's only fair). Most of the class chose an American flag in the corner of the room. (I suspect I was hungrier.)

The responses were terrific, especially when we turned the description around (I knew it was coming; they didn't). That change launched whole new approaches, ranging from seeing the American flag as a modern-day enemy might view it, to the viewpoint of a British officer surrendering to Washington in the Revolutionary War. Wow, these young writers are good!

But perhaps the greatest lesson of the workshop was a little less obvious— the lesson of giving up your fear and sharing what you write. Six young writers had to each swallow their nervousness and read what they had just written out loud. Yikes! But in the end, they learned that they could share it— that there was something of value in what they wrote, and that others could appreciate it. And that's an important lesson to learn, whether you're just writing for a group of friends, a library workshop, or who knows whom on the Internet.

Give it a try! Sure, start with your grandmother (she'll love everything you write), but then take that risk; read it to a friend, a teacher, a writing club... not only will you become more comfortable with sharing, you'll become more comfortable with writing. And that's a great feeling to have.

--- Howard Shirley

Workshoppin'

I'm back with another young writers' workshop this Saturday at the Franklin Public Library in Franklin, Tennessee. This time we'll be having fun with a great exercise I picked up from Jennifer Wingertzahn, an editor at Clarion Books.* It will have you writing and thinking— and you'll surprised at what you can do with a single sentence. If you're a teen who loves to experiment with words, come on in; we're going to have a great time.

For more information, or to sign up, check with Phillip McAndrew, the Young Adult Librarian, here

Saturday, August 9, 10:00 AM to 11:30 AM.

Oh, and Phillip informs me that I need to include this:

FREE REFRESHMENTS!!!

We're not above bribery...

--- Howard Shirley

*Remember the writer's motto: Always steal from the best! (Thanks, Jennifer!)

I've been everywhere, man...

So, in answer to the rather obvious question, "Where have you been?," see above.

Okay, not strictly true. In fact, I've only been to North Carolina and back to Tennessee. And back to North Carolina. And back to Tennessee. And back to North Carolina. And back to Tennessee. And then an unexpected side trip to Alabama. And back to Tennessee. And then across Tennessee. And then to North Carolina, again. And then back home to Tennessee.

So it only feels as if I've been everywhere. (Whew, I'm tired.)

Now, as to why North Carolina, my parents have a summer cottage in the lovely Appalachian mountains just south of the Blue Ridge, and my son was attending summer camp for the first time at Camp Ridgecrest for Boys outside of Asheville, North Carolina. So the back and forth was in part to drop him off and pick him up (yes, we like having him back), and also to see my aunt and uncle who came down from Manhattan to visit my parents at their mountain cottage.

The last back, though, was just for me. My son went to camp, and I did too.

Turns out this year marks the 80th anniversary of the founding of Camp Ridgecrest, which I also attended as a boy. If there is a Paradise on Earth for boys, it is Camp Ridgecrest. There are mountain trails to hike. Mountain streams to catch crayfish in (after which you boil them over your camp fire). A mountain lake to swim in, splash in, jump in, slide in, zip-line in, and blob in. (What's a blob? It's a giant air-pillow floating in a lake. You jump on it from a tower, crawl to the end, and wait for the next kid— the bigger he is, the better— to jump on the other end. UP in the air you go with a yell, and down— SPLASH— into the lake. (Which, by the way is fed by mountain streams; brrrrr!!!)

At Ridgecrest there are campouts. Bonfires. Water balloon fights. Sock wars.

Wait, you ask. What's a "sock war?"

It's basically a humongous game of Capture the Flag, played all over camp. With socks.

Well, not socks that are worn, but socks that are thrown. The socks are filled with soft dirt or sawdust, and they are the weapons used by the two armies in this massive fight. Some of the troops tuck their socks into tight little balls, so as to make more accurate missiles. Others use long tube socks, whipping them through the air like flails for "whack-I-got-you" close combat action. If you're hit by a sock, you're temporarily out of the fight, and have to report to a neutral zone, where judges record you as a score for the other team. Naturally, capturing the enemy flag and bringing it to the neutral zone also scores points for your team. The high scoring army wins the war (which lasts about two hours).

And yes, during the Reunion weekend, I joined the war. There I am, forty-three year old dad, running around with kids and young men ages 6-26, yelling my head off and throwing socks. I ran down narrow forest paths. I dodged through rhododendron thickets. I slid through mud. I wound up with two long scratches on my leg and one across my wrist from whipping branches. I got hit in the head twice (head shots don't count as outs), and elsewhere about five times. By the end I was hot, thirsty, and exhausted. In short, it was one of the best days I've had all year. And I still don't know if my team won or not!

To borrow a saying from the Marines: You can take the boy out of the camp, but you'll never take the camp out of the boy.

--- Howard Shirley, aka Camp Ridgecrest Son of Chief "Talented Peacock"*

*My "Indian" name from the Camp Ridgecrest Indian Council Ring, given to me by the brave, stalwart, noble and very mischievous Little Chiefs of Camp Ridgecrest in 1982.