Jacob sent me an email about our pending launch in October/November, and he included an image of the cover that he’d found on the internet. I had a vague idea in my mind which was different from this, but I do like it, and I think it will pique people’s interest. I’m not very artistic, nor do I know anything about marketing; fortunately Red Deer Press has professionals to look after those things!
Liam and I are spending the night at Horseshoe Lake. Other than the bugs, it’s been perfect! We took the canoe to the end of the lake, checking for beavers. We ventured into the Gold River end (and could hear the water literally rushing out of the lake) and discovered a steel bridge over the river. We got out and looked around, but couldn’t see that the bridge, which was big enough for a car, led anywhere. We walked up the grassy road on the other side and eventually came to the New Russell Road. Maybe the bridge was once used to transport logs or Christmas trees? We were amazed by the heavy-duty steel used in it, although the bulk of it was covered with plywood. I’m pretty sure it’ll turn up in my writing someday…
This morning I’m up early writing – researching a picture book story with Nova Scotia roots. I’ve also been looking into my Mingo family roots, and it seems the first of the Mingos (Matthew and son John) didn’t actually live in NS (River John) until 1809, although I’m sure my grandfather and father believed our Mingos had come over on the Speedwell from Montbeliard in 1752. Our branch, with patriarch Christopher, lived in Philadelphia before making their way to NS, as far as I can tell from my Googling. My dream was to find some sort of primary resource, a diary or notes, but I haven’t turned up anything yet. I hope to get to the Tatamagouche area this summer to see what they have in their new museum. What I remember from the graveyard tour Gramps Mingo took me on before he died was that one of my great-great-great grandfathers died on May 26, 1860, exactly 100 years before I was born. Cool!
The thing about the lake is the quiet – other than the tapping of my keys, there is no sound whatsoever at 8:30 in the morning. Last night, the spring peepers were singing up a storm, but the loons must have been sleeping. When I first got up this morning, to let Bailey out, the lake was perfectly flat, the trees had identical twins in the water, but I see the breeze is picking up already. Liam was trying to take some author shots of me last night, but the bugs and our lack of knowledge about the camera, didn’t help the process.
I love when I have a new idea for a story – now to apply some self-discipline and make myself actually work on the first draft…