I read an author on Substack who said she was tired of
publishers not paying her, and she was going to begin writing a series of small
books.
"Hey," I exclaimed, "that was my
idea!"
Writing small books, I mean.
Well, there is room for both of us, but isn't it odd
when an idea is floating around and more than one person gets it? I heard that
when Albert Lamorisse wrote The Red Balloon, to his dismay, another author was also
presenting a book by the same title for publication. Both were published. (A
title is one thing not copyrightable.) Lamorisse's book, made into a movie, won
an Academy Award. (His young son plays the protagonist.)
Lamorisse was a filmmaker and was praised for his
photography, yet while filming another movie, his helicopter crashed, killing
all aboard. His grown-up son and wife completed the movie and released it
posthumously. (I keep finding dead authors, darn it.)
I love novels, and I usually have one running all the time, but reading them takes time, and time is a precious commodity. You can read a short story in one sitting, and it is more fun than a bunch of real-life How-tos. Besides, I want to get to
the questions and answers quickly. People have asked these same questions
for eons, and will continue to do so for eons to come, however, they are fun to
ask, and the answers are as different as the person asking them. "What’s
my purpose? Why am I here? Where do we go from here? What sort of spirituality
rings true for me?"
I reach out tentatively and touch the questions, throw
a few crumbs their way, drop a little magic, and run away.
Here are the first two
books in my "WHERE" series,
10,000 words or
less—fiction.
Two so far:
Number 1: Where Tiger's Belch,
8,791 words.
Number two: Where the Frogs Sing Café,
6,766
words.
Remember Edward Abby's quote? He gives an
invocation better than I can:
"May your rivers flow without end, meandering
through pastoral valleys tinkling with bells, past temples and castles and
poets' towers into a dark primeval forest where tigers belch
and monkeys howl, where something strange
and more beautiful and more full of wonder than your deepest dreams wait for
you — beyond that next turning of the canyon walls." –Edward Abby
As we go through life, not only have our bodies been
bruised, but our spirits have often been as well. Yet, a few words can shine
light into a dark hole, tickle our funny bone, or motivate us.
This series is my try.
"Don't try, do."—Yoda
Carry on. Do good work,
P.S. In searching
for other books of this genre, (I don’t know what their genre is called) I
found two authors who have written books the sort I aspire to. I’ve read two
books from each. One author is John Strelecky, The Café at the End of the
World, A Story About the Meaning of Life. “Over 4 million sold,” so says
the cover. See, I know there are people who like these sorts of books. The
other is Michael V. Ivanov. The Traveler’s Secret, Ancient Proverbs for
Better Living. (Five stars.)
Yea, live
authors.
Here we go with Number Two:
Excerpt from Where The Frogs Sing Cafe:
Copyright
© 2025
ISBN:
979-8-9906076-2-0
Published
by The Frog’s Song Publishing Junction City, OR 97448
Cover
design by Joyce Davis
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,
stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means
without the author's prior permission.
Chapters
Chapter
1 Voted the Best Café by My Mother
Chapter
2 The Green Flash
Chapter
3 Who Created This System Anyway?
Chapter
4 Underground Railroad
Chapter
5 Where is That Person?
Chapter
6 Life Beyond the Horizon
Chapter
7 I Vote for That
"May your rivers flow without
end, meandering through pastoral valleys tinkling with bells, past temples and
castles, and poet's towers into dark primeval forest where tigers belch, and
monkeys howl…beyond that next turning of the canyon walls."
–Edward Abbey
“Frogs
sing the eternal call to life and happiness.”
1
"Voted the Best Café by My
Mother"
Carolyn, Freda, and I were barreling down a lava-based
road in our rented Jeep while cane grass as high as the Jeep's hood slapped us
on both sides. We thought a Jeep suited us, but by the end of this day, we felt
beaten up from the constant wind in our hair and sun on our cheeks. And why in
the heck were we on this road?
We had seen a sign tucked in alongside the highway,
barely visible if you were going any speed at all: "Voted the Best Café
by My Mother," it read. We laughed but kept on going until we
saw the second sign: "Where the Frog's Sing Café" with an
arrow pointing to the road we were now on.
The road didn't look like one that would lead to a
café, but after our day of snorkeling in the ocean, sunning on the beach, and
being wind-whipped to pieces in an open-air jeep, we were exhausted and
starving.
And so, when the sign indicated a café ahead, we aimed
toward it.
We were on summer break from college, and although it
might seem that a trip to Hawaii is a luxurious holiday, our families got
together to give us three girls this trip. My Aunt Mable gave us her Condo
share for a week, our folks paid for our airline tickets, and we scraped
together enough money to live for seven days.
We were all juniors in college and had been friends
since high school, but there we were, exhausted after our junior year and
worried about what to do after graduation. Our folks decided we needed a break,
and so they gave us this gift, like the Twelve Days of Christmas minus eleven.
Eventually, the lava-encrusted, lumpy road through the
cane grass ended at a strip of golden/white sand. And there on that beautiful
sand sat a Robinson Crusoe-style shack with a sign under its thatched roof, Where
the Frogs Sing Café.
When I (the designated driver) cut the motor, we heard
the surf pounding off in the distance.
"Jo," Carolyn attentively asked from the
passenger seat, "do you think this is safe?"
"We have only met friendly people," I said.
"This looks like the sort of place poor college students would frequent, a
Barefoot pub on the beach. Besides, do you think that fellow we met while
snorkeling would steer us wrong? He said there was a shortcut to our condo
beside a café titled Where the Frogs Sing? He seemed nice."
"Well, you were flirting with him, no wonder he
was nice."
"All the more reason to trust him. He was
flirting back." I opened the car door and swung my legs out.
end of excerpt
Where The Frogs Sing Cafe will be available on Kindle in a day or two. In the meantime, since you are my blog readers, and if you want to read the rest of the story, I will send you a PDf file for Free to your email. You can be my first readers. See what you think. This offer will only be available this week. Thanks for reading.
Oh, I need your email address to send it. No worries, I never let emails creep out of my box. My dog guards it.
Go to joshappytrails at gmail.com/ You know what at means. Type it in. Whohoo! Sing with the frogs. Say YES.
