Mom, nurse, writer . . . reading the world around me
Melissa Miles grew up all around the Southeast as a "red-headed preacher's kid" so it is hard to hurt her feelings! She has a Bachelor's degree in Nursing from The Medical University of South Carolina in the beautiful city of Charleston. She worked as a neonatal and pediatric ICU nurse in Charleston and Atlanta before taking some time off to be a full time mom. While living in Germany, she earned her Masters Degree in Education and taught school for 5 years, both in Germany and back in Georgia. Currently Melissa is following a life long dream of writing. She hopes to have many more novels on the way, including some for young readers. She lives in Georgia with her husband of 31 years and is the proud mom of two wonderful young adults.
Thanks to the amazing Tara Lazar and her guest bloggers, I’m happy to say I completed StoryStorm 2019 with 30 ideas for stories. If you have any interest in children’s publishing, I highly encourage you to subscribe to Tara’s blog here. You won’t be sorry!
Now, to get busy turning these ideas into actual full blown, developed stories…
But, you’ve got to start somewhere, right? Wish me luck!
In July, I lost my dad. He was always one of my biggest cheerleaders, even when I didn’t give him much to cheer about–especially during my high school years. Sometimes, it was embarrassing how much he’d brag about me to anyone who would listen. But I’d give almost anything now to hear him brag about me. What I’d give just to hear his voice one more time. He was especially proud that I was writing books. I still cry every time I think that he won’t be around to see Jeremiah Justice Saves the Dayreleased. He helped raise funds on Kickstarter to make it happen.
My dad was 82 when he died, so on some level I knew he wasn’t going to be around forever. But when his death came, it was sudden and unexpected. It left so much unsaid–at least from my perspective. I had so much I should have thanked him for. I started wishing right away that I’d called him every single day from the day I left for college, just to tell him I loved him.
This isn’t new advice. Just like when you’re a new parent, and you hear from countless people, “Cherish every moment. They grow up so fast.” We hear from our friends who’ve lost a parent, “Don’t take them for granted. They won’t be here forever.” But advice like this is easy to throw off as a clichés. We think, “Yeah, yeah. I know.” But let’s face it. We really don’t know. We don’t know how fast our kids grow up until they’re gone. And we don’t know how fast we can lose our parents, who’ve been there for us our entire lives until that moment. And, we’re busy. Raising kids is all consuming and leaves us exhausted half the time. Being a caregiver for elderly parents is physically and emotionally challenging many times. Believe me, I get it. But, it still doesn’t make the clichés untrue.
So, here’s my two cents for today. Don’t think, “Yeah, yeah. I know.” Pick up the phone and call your mom or dad. Or both. Tell them you love them and you appreciate the sacrifices they’ve made for you. You’ll be glad you did.
Happy Fall Everyone! I came across this fun writing contest on author Susannah Hill’s website. See rules here. Basically, it asks for you to write a short Halloween story in 100 words or less. It took me exactly 100! You also have to include any variations of the words cauldron, shiver and howl in your story. My entry Surfside Halloween is posted here. Happy reading, and if you’re so inclined…writing! 🙂
On my first Florida Halloween, my mood was foul. When I heard the night’s plans, I let out a howl.
This night was for shivering, costumes and hayrides—not shorts or flip-flops, and definitely not high tides.
Halloween wasn’t about surf and sand—but trick-or-treating, with candy in hand.
This felt more like a trick than a treat; a cauldron of disappointment, despair and defeat.
When the full yellow moon revealed glowing eyes, I jumped back in fright, and yelped in surprise.
A tiny black kitten rocketed ’round the bend. I’d lost old traditions, but gained a new friend.
With the help of Kickstarter and some amazing collaborators, I was able to raise the funds I needed to bring Jeremiah Justice Saves the Day into the world. Local Savannah artist Rashad Doucet agreed to illustrate the book, and his work is amazing! Every page has movement and action. I think kids are truly going to love this book.
I wanted to take the chance to share some of Rashad’s illustrations. Enjoy! More news will be coming soon regarding the date the book will be available to purchase. Thanks to everyone who has helped make this dream come true. I hope we can break some barriers and show that special needs kids can most definitely be superheroes.
I picked up this book at our school’s book fair, and wasn’t sure I was going to enjoy it during the first chapter. However, I’m glad I stuck with this gem of a book. It made me laugh, and it made me cry. As a former fourth grade teacher, I cherish the emotional connections I made with my students. Many of them needed nothing more than a teacher. But some of my students needed much more. They needed someone willing to go the extra mile–to listen to their fears, show interest in their activities, and comfort them when they were hurting. We don’t realize exactly what Ms. Bixby means to the three boys in this novel until the story unfolds. But they each have a reason, and when the readers learn these reasons, we get to the huge heart at the center of this story.
The boys decide to give their teacher (on leave due to her cancer treatments) a perfect day. The problem is, she’s in the hospital–nobody’s idea of a perfect day! They are also kids without transportation, a whole lot of cash, and a limited time frame to pull off the operation, as they are supposed to be in school. It reads like a quest, and reminded me of the Stephen King short story which became the movie, Stand by Me. I won’t spoil the ending, but it’s heartwarming, engaging, and hilarious. This would be a great book for parents to read with their elementary kids, or for independent readers. I might have read it to my class were I still teaching fourth grade, but I’d have never made it through the book without crying!
Two years ago, I began writing a picture book about a special needs superhero named Jeremiah. He’s a regular kid with a regular family–until he discovers his superpower.
This isn’t an “issue book” to teach kids to be compassionate. It’s a fun, exciting and humorous story about an amazing kid who taps into a hidden strength. What the world might see as a weakness (the trach tube in his neck) becomes the source of his superpower. He names his power The Super Tornado Blaster and practices using it until he learns to control it. There are a few mishaps, of course. But eventually he is able to stop a notorious super villain’s crime spree in his town.
When I finished the manuscript over a year ago, I wrote a blog post about it. Since then, I’ve shared my story with writers, editors and illustrators at conferences. The response has always been positive. Enthusiastic even. But then it comes back to the world of publishing. It’s a business, you see. And books only sell enough copies to be profitable if they appeal to the widest possible audience. This kind of book is considered a “niche” book. Considering the amount of interest it’s already received, I’m hoping it’s much more than that. I dream of this book being read to school kids, by parents and grandparents, and even some kids who want to read it over and over to themselves. I envision the book being given to kids attending special needs camps in the summer, to families with a new trach patient, and to kids who are fans of superhero stories in general.
April 1st, my Kickstarter Campaign launches. It will run for 30 days, and my project goal is set high enough to cover the costs of publishing the book with the help of a professional illustrator. If you’d like to see a book in the world featuring a medically fragile child brave enough to take on a super villain, please support the campaign. It will take the help of everyone I know to share the word about this project. Thanks in advance!
Update: Check out this great early concept character of Jeremiah Justice by talented artist and SCAD professor Rashad Doucet!
One of my favorite things about writing books is the chance to meet readers and discuss the plot and characters from my novels with them. Considering I don’t have an agent, publicist, and basically do nothing to promote my novels (shame on me, but I’m terrible at it!), I’ve been fortunate to receive invitations from quite a few book clubs. I’ve spoken to groups at several different churches, neighborhoods and one community group. It’s especially rewarding to be invited back to discuss a new book, when you’ve been a guest of the group previously with an earlier novel.
A couple of years ago, I spoke at a group that was open to the public. A local reporter called me to get a phone interview about my book prior to the event. When I arrived, I noticed an elderly man sitting alone. Everyone else was chatting with each other as they arrived, but this gentleman did not interact with anyone else in the group.
Shortly after I began my talk, it became clear why he’d come. He hadn’t read Go Forward with Courage, but he came to “set the record straight” about what happened to the Japanese American citizens who were interned in camps during the war. In his opinion, they got better than they deserved because our government fed and sheltered them and kept them safe. If the tables had been turned, he insisted, the Japanese government would have killed any Americans living on their soil.
It was interesting to see the transformation that occurred in him during the meeting. After allowing him to express his opinion, I politely explained that my book was based on extensive research and first hand accounts. I provided him with the sources to find the information, and others in the room that had read the book informed him that my book paints a very balanced view of what happened, by framing it in the historical context of the times. If you are interested in learning more about Japanese Internment during WW2, Densho.org and The National World War II Museum are both great resources. Just search the archives for interviews from people who lived through the events.
The man began to ask questions, nod when certain points were brought up, and by the end of the meeting he thanked me for allowing him to speak. Nothing prepares a person for this type of encounter. I think that’s why it can be intimidating to accept an invitation to speak at a group where there will be back and forth dialogue, and Q & A. But I love hearing from my readers, and even the occasional “non-reader” who has an opinion about the subject matter.
If you’re a member of a book club, have you ever hosted an author visit? I’d love to hear about your experiences.
Is there a story from childhood that still captivates you to this day? I grew up hearing The Legend of Sautee and Nacoochee. My grandmother would tell it to me from a porch swing, pointing to Yonah Mountain where the tragic ending occurred. As a child, I believed it was a Native American legend, but now it seems much more likely that it was actually first told by early white settlers. Since it’s called a legend, I suppose it’s possible that some kernel of truth could exist somewhere in the telling. But whatever the origin of the tale, I wanted to share it with my followers. Please let me know what you think of the tragic story of these two ill-fated young lovers. I’d also love to hear the stories of your childhood.The Cherokee and Chickasaws were two neighboring tribes that inhabited the area known today as the Sautee-Nacoochee Valley. The Cherokee people were often at war with the Chickasaw people. According to the legend, it was during a rare time of truce that the Cherokee allowed the Chickasaw to pass through their land as long as they stayed on the Unicoi Trail. A traveling group of Chickasaw stopped to rest under the shade of a large white oak tree where two trails crossed at the junction of the valleys. As they rested, a group of Cherokee gathered around them, shouting insults, perhaps to provoke them into breaking the truce.
Among this group was Sautee, the handsome son of the Chickasaw chief. He dreamed of a negotiating a lasting peace between the tribes after he became chief. Among the Cherokee people who gathered that day, was Nacoochee. Her father was the Cherokee chief, Wahoo. It happens that she caught the eye of Sautee. When their eyes met, they fell instantly in love.
That night, Nacoochee snuck out to meet Sautee under the same oak tree where they’d first spotted each other. They decide they can convince their fathers of their love for each other, hoping their union will bring peace to their tribes. Their love for each other blinded them to the dangers they faced.
They present their case to Nacoochee’s father. Instead of granting his blessing to the union, Wahoo orders Sautee to be captured and thrown from the high cliff of Yonah Mountain while his daughter is forced to watch.
Nacoochee is horror-stricken to see Sautee thrown to his death, and breaks free of the braves holding her to leap from the cliff after him. Nacoochee’s father is overcome with grief and regret. He has them buried together at the ancient burial mound that still stands today in the Sautee-Nacoochee Valley.
The legend reminds me of Romeo and Juliet set in the Blue Ridge Mountains. But just like that tale of star-crossed lovers, this legend reminds us that nothing good comes from hate. Maybe we can learn something from it. Thanks for reading!
Many moons ago, I blogged about the Welsh word hiraeth (HEER-eyeth). The word is used to describe a homesickness for a home you cannot return to, or even a home which maybe never was. It describes a sense of nostalgia and yearning for lost places of your past.
I’ve thought of that word many times since then, and wondered why we don’t have such a word in our language. Am I the only one who gets this word? Who deeply feels this longing for places in my childhood that I can never return to? I’m pretty sure I’m not.
The above picture was drawn by my Aunt Rebecca. It depicts me (as a small child) approaching my grandma. I love this image. It shows how casual life could be up there in the mountains–my grandma in her fuzzy slippers and floppy hat. She added vines of wisteria for a whimsical effect that I find especially fun. It also reminds me of how much I always wanted to spend time with my grandmother, and in the picture I’m walking toward her carrying my own smaller version of her coffee mug.
If there were a place and time that I could return to for just a while, it would be here–on my grandparents’ porch. I’d share my drink and ask her to tell me stories. To have that moment would satisfy the longing I feel for that place and those people. If you could have that moment, where and when would it take you? Who would you see? What would you do? I’d love to hear your stories.
Recently I’ve seen numerous ads on TV for DNA kits promising to help you “discover your true ancestry.” I’ve tuned into the PBS program Finding Your Roots with Henry Louis Gates to see people stunned and enthralled by tidbits of information about ancestors from centuries ago. I’ve even briefly explored the wildly popular website Ancestry.com to see what I could dig up about my own family roots.
There seems to be a craving in our country right now to find out where we came from and more importantly who came before us. What kind of lives did they live? What kind of people were they? It’s no secret that it’s much harder for African Americans to trace their roots due to the poor records kept by slaveholders in the 1700’s and 1800’s. And even if they were able to trace their roots, what would be left for them to discover about the lives of their ancestors?
What if you did trace your ancestry back to enslaved people, and you had the opportunity to visit the very place your ancestors were enslaved? Would you do it? Even more pressing: What if you had the chance to meet some descendants of the people who’d enslaved your ancestors during that visit? It seems far-fetched and unlikely, but it’s exactly what has recently happened at Prospect Hill Plantation in Jefferson County, Mississippi.
My second novel, Burning Prospects, is based on the true story of the events that took place on this plantation after the death of Isaac Ross. I’ve found the story fascinating ever since I heard it as a child. But in past years, I’ve had the privilege of talking with those who trace their ancestry back to Prospect Hill slaves. They have gone back to the plantation and met with the descendants of the very people who enslaved their ancestors many years ago. Their graciousness has been an inspiration. I wanted to share two articles recently published about a reunion held at Prospect Hill as well as a link to a video about a young man’s solitary visit to the site.
Just today, I saw a link to an article on NEWSONE, posing the question “Would you Meet with the Descendants of Those who Enslaved Your Ancestors?” It references Mr. Huffman’s article in The Guardian, but adds even more background about the people who chose to attend the reunion and why.
Perhaps the most poignant piece on descendants of enslaved people visiting Prospect Hill comes in the form of a documentary film by Blue Magnolia Films. Please take a moment to watch this beautiful story here.
I’d love to hear your comments. Would you go back? Why or why not?