Unexpected Journey

Publishing "From the Dust" has provided unexpected pleasures. It's allowed me to visit people in other parts of the world without ever getting on a plane. I hadn't anticipated that. I discovered people who are thrilled to chat with others that share a love of words. It is a joy to discover that many of the books I love are loved around the world. Apparently, book lovers have a commonality that jumps over geographic and cultural differences. Possibly this is something that Oprah knew all along - thus the Oprah Bookclub.

It's like an unexpected Christmas gift to open up an e-mail and read that someone else half way around the world is interested in what I have written. That someone else may care enough to read about the quirky Hilda or the precocious Maggie as they roam through the pages of "From the Dust". How amazing and wonderful is that?!

Ryshia

Traveling Backwards

Today, as I fire up the laptop and avoid the chill winter weather by crawling back into bed with my latest story and a cup of coffee, I travel back to Borneo. That's where the story, Last Man Standing, takes place. I take a sip of coffee waiting for Word to light up and previously written words to flood the screen and call me back.

I jump back into the lives of a greenhorn group of entomologists lost in the Borneo rain forest. As I cheer on Aidan, our resident hero who has the misfortune to have to rescue them, I'm reminded why I love to write these stories.



Every story is a journey into beautiful countries I have briefly touched and into the lives of fictional characters who lead me to places even I can almost not imagine.

So while the ground lies frozen and dormant here in my real life, in my fictional world I am standing on the bank of a river in Borneo waving to my team of misfits as their plane takes them to Kuching and safety - the end of their journey.

Or so they think.

Last Man Standing
Chapter One

He floated headless in a mist of tears. Even the river’s roar was not enough to mask the scream, so piercing was it and so unnatural that it silenced the never silent land. Overhead the Borneo midday sun skidded a brilliant reflection across the river’s surface.
Garrett clapped her hand against her mouth like she owned the scream and squinted trying to clear her tear blurred vision, as if that would shift reality. As if that would change the fact that the San Diego Chargers’ logo on the corpse’s torn, water soaked t-shirt was all that stood between Malcolm and anonymity. Malcolm’s smiling face flitted across Garret’s memory as tears obscured her vision and drained down the back of her throat - his smiling, missing face – she choked and her foot slipped and carried her dangerously close to the river bank, and the body.

And so a journey begins. It doesn't sound much like a romance, not at the beginning. But my merry group of travelers are challenged in every way. So for the main characters for sure, at the end it so only fair that they get their reward. After all, it is a romance. But midway through, I am anxious to get my group to safety's shore but they have other ideas and already in the first draft they have pointed their path in directions I would never have chosen for them. Writing is definitely a journey. A journey that is always best shared.

Until next time.

Ryshia

Ice Fishing and the Hells Angels

Frozen lakes do not stop an ardent fisherman and they certainly never stop a good friend of mine. She loves to ice fish. And in the frozen Saskatchewan winter there's lots of opportunity to do so. Ice fishing shacks dot many of the popular lakes all winter and tournaments fill many weekends. Apparently there is joy in sitting on a cold chair in the middle of a frozen lake waiting for a fish that may or may not show. It's an all day event and usually involves much comraderie, refreshments and for the tournaments, prizes after. That part sounds like fun. The fishing part - not so much. But for many people, ice fishing makes a long, cold winter just a little bit more enjoyable. Cheers to that.


But this year my friend took it one step further - she went on a fishing tournament hosted by the Hells Angels. Call her crazy but she had a good time. Apparently bikers can be really nice folk.

I can only assume that when fishing with the Hells Angels there may be one rule:

What happens on the ice fishing trip stays on the ice fishing trip.

Is Ice Fishing the Ideal Sport? Click here to find out.

And again I ask - where are my flip flops!!?



Ryshia

Where Are My Flip Flops?

Maybe it's the weather. Maybe it's because here it is February and I've already been somewhere warm, I don't know what the reason is but I'm dragging. My energy level is zip. Usually February is the month to get out of Dodge and travel the world or at least a new piece of the world, maybe that's why the winter blahs have set in so quickly. Here it is February 3, I've been back from Asia for exactly 13 days. In that time there was a stretch of extremely cold weather followed by blizzard conditions. Is that why a good book and my couch are becoming more and more attractive? I'm not usually a lazy person but continuous cold weather, well it's draining. On the upside, the last few days have been almost balmy. Today was -16.

And despite the lack of flip flop weather conditions, even the near blizzard was considered an opportunity for just a little fun for Rourke. If it's going to snow you might as well dive in head first!

To divert my thoughts from weather issues, and just for the fun of it, I entered Nathan Bransford's first page contest. While the first page of "Tall, Dark and Exotic" didn't win, it was still fun and there's voting going on for the six that were picked. Drop on over and cast your vote at Nathan's blog. Take a look - there's an eclectic mix of genres and styles that makes for an interesting read and with over 600 entries you could be reading for awhile. Here's the link: http://nathanbransford.blogspot.com/2008/01/surprisingly-essential-first-page.html

But I still ask - where are my flip flops?

Ryshia

Love Where You're At

Regina is a great little city in the southern half of Saskatchewan. A place where when people from other countries and continents ask you where you're from, you mostly just say Canada. Truthfully, now remember I'm speaking in global terms, most people world-wide know where Canada is - we took geography for heaven's sakes! But mention Saskatchewan and you get a blank stare. It's a revelation to not get a blank stare!

Most of the world knows there is a Vancouver, Canada and of course there is a Toronto, they might even get a Montreal but Saskatchewan. In all my travels I've lost track of the blank stares, there have been so many. I try - I haven't given up on saying Saskatchewan and waiting hopefully. But you know at the oddest moments it does happen - the cab driver in Hong Kong who knew exactly where Regina was, the man walking down the sidewalk in Marrakesh, Morocco who just decided to strike up a conversation with the obvious foreigners and kept up the questions, forcing us to narrow the field of where we came from until he had to reveal that his brother was currently in Moose Jaw (40 miles from Regina).

Yes there are the exceptions, amazing, intriguing people you meet across the globe. But mostly, people at a certain distance from Saskatchewan have no idea where it is. We are a vague land mass somewhere in Canada if we register at all. But even though we're sparsely populated, just under a million people, we are part of the bread basket of the country with hidden treasures of minerals and ores that the rest of the country is just beginning to wake up to. Saskatchewan might just be Canada's hidden gem. But for now it still sleeps with a hiccup every now and then a small shout that is noticed, noted by the media and forgotten for the moment as we begin to slowly wake up - more on that later.

On to Regina, the capital. A small prairie city, under 200,000 people. Minimal pollution and wide open prairie. It's a little chilly from about mid October until the end of March. But we still bundle up and go for walks, cross-country ski and in the case of my neighbour, walk everywhere across town - rain, snow, sleet. And there's lots of snow but no ski hills. On the upside, kids make due, sledding down hills that those of us with more hill knowledge would call ditches. The Caraganas sleep through the winter hibernation, the prairie grass is silent. The prairies rests under a blanket of snow. There's a stark beauty in a white covered world.

When there's a wind in winter -40 celius with the wind chill is not unusual. Left your block heater unplugged, well your car might not start in the morning. Googling the term block heater - not sure we want to talk to you - climate envy warning...alerting now! Seriously, welcome to our world - it's not so bad - just different.


The Canadian prairies - mid winter,

where even the dogs may wear boots - it ain't for sissies!

Enjoy and love where you're at - it might be all you ever have!

Ryshia

Journeys End

The plane only takes me so far. There is still a dog to pick up and a seven hour car ride before it is home to Saskatchewan. Wide open spaces with nothing but snowy fields is not what I've been used to seeing. A lone coyote trots down the meridian dividing the two highways, a herd of antelope graze contently. Yes, this is home. Cold and snowy it is wildly beautiful in it's own way. But the difference from where I've so recently been is overwhelming, especially - the
temperature.







Today I look outside to a snow covered garden. But it's still good to be home.













Rourke thinks so to as the stuffed cow moos for the millionth time and he lays happily back and chomps down trying to dismantle its head.



It might be cold but snow can be a beautiful thing.



Ryshia