My science-fiction novel, TIME WILL TELL, will be released as an ebook on Friday, March 9, 2012. Please see my web page at maryspalmer.com for more details and a photo of the cover.
It's available at Musa Publishing and Amazon.com.
Thanks for your interest in my work.
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Friday, February 24, 2012
Memorable Moments
When I have an interesting, unusual, or frustrating experience, I try to benefit from it by working the incident into a book. I had one yesterday.
It was a very foggy morning. On my thirty mile drive to school, in an effort to clear the back window my car, I somehow hit a button that turned on my flashers. Cars passing by were holding their hands out of the windows, flapping fingers together to let me know I was signaling an emergency that I obviously didn't have.
They didn't know it, but I did have an emergency, in a way. Even though I've had this car a year, I didn't know how to turn off those flashers.
By then, I was on the interstate going sixty-five miles an hour. If I pulled off, it would delay me and I'd be late. I had a test scheduled and I'd threatened my students with penalties if they were late; I couldn't be late myself.
So I kept speeding along, pushing every button I could find, thinking the one I needed had to be connected to the light switches or somewhere in that area. It didn't work. I wondered if I'd turned off my lights when they should be on in a fog. I even sprayed the windshield a few times and nothing happened, except it cleared the fog off of it.
I tried shutting off the motor at a red light but those determined little buggers didn't stop blinking.
What to do? I decided the answer was "Nothing." I had to just let other drivers think I had an emergency or that I was just a bit kooky.
When I reached my destination and parked my car, I solicited the help of the first person I saw. In minutes, the young man reached inside, found a triangular red button in the center of the dash and pushed it. Voila! The annoying flashing stopped.
I bet I'll never forget where that button's located.
I don't know where I'll use this yet. But look for it in one of my books someday.
It was a very foggy morning. On my thirty mile drive to school, in an effort to clear the back window my car, I somehow hit a button that turned on my flashers. Cars passing by were holding their hands out of the windows, flapping fingers together to let me know I was signaling an emergency that I obviously didn't have.
They didn't know it, but I did have an emergency, in a way. Even though I've had this car a year, I didn't know how to turn off those flashers.
By then, I was on the interstate going sixty-five miles an hour. If I pulled off, it would delay me and I'd be late. I had a test scheduled and I'd threatened my students with penalties if they were late; I couldn't be late myself.
So I kept speeding along, pushing every button I could find, thinking the one I needed had to be connected to the light switches or somewhere in that area. It didn't work. I wondered if I'd turned off my lights when they should be on in a fog. I even sprayed the windshield a few times and nothing happened, except it cleared the fog off of it.
I tried shutting off the motor at a red light but those determined little buggers didn't stop blinking.
What to do? I decided the answer was "Nothing." I had to just let other drivers think I had an emergency or that I was just a bit kooky.
When I reached my destination and parked my car, I solicited the help of the first person I saw. In minutes, the young man reached inside, found a triangular red button in the center of the dash and pushed it. Voila! The annoying flashing stopped.
I bet I'll never forget where that button's located.
I don't know where I'll use this yet. But look for it in one of my books someday.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Books by Authors
I'm pleased that some editors saw TO CATCH A FISH in Octavia's Book Store in New Orleans and asked me if I'd like to submit something for an upcoming issue. The theme is centered on New Orleans stories.
I sent them a short essay about a New Orleans experience and a poem about The Big Easy. I hope they find a spot for them and I'll post it if they do.
I sent them a short essay about a New Orleans experience and a poem about The Big Easy. I hope they find a spot for them and I'll post it if they do.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Life Is; Life Isn't
Life Is; Life Isn't:
Memories of Mardi Gras
"You don't bury a husband
without losing weight,"
she said.
Her long dress touching the
floor hung a little looser
Than it had last year when he
was at her side.
"I have a young son here who's
got me out of breath
from dancing."
She sighed and touched a wet
spot on the corner of
her eye.
It's Mardi Gras in Mobile,
Alabama,
And the ghosts of the past
Still haunt the halls of the
Civic Center.
We see; we feel; we know
they never die.
Mary S. Palmer
First printed in Mobile Bay Monthly
Memories of Mardi Gras
"You don't bury a husband
without losing weight,"
she said.
Her long dress touching the
floor hung a little looser
Than it had last year when he
was at her side.
"I have a young son here who's
got me out of breath
from dancing."
She sighed and touched a wet
spot on the corner of
her eye.
It's Mardi Gras in Mobile,
Alabama,
And the ghosts of the past
Still haunt the halls of the
Civic Center.
We see; we feel; we know
they never die.
Mary S. Palmer
First printed in Mobile Bay Monthly
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Valentine's Day
Valentine's Way
When cupid's arrow
Hit its mark long ago,
One couple felt the piercing,
And love endured.
He doesn't see
That her hair is thinning,
Because he loves her.
Nor does he notice
The wrinkles around her lips,
Because he loves her.
Through fifty years of marriage,
He sees none of her faults,
Because he loves her.
She doesn't see
His stomach pouch,
Because she loves him.
Nor does she find
His unshaven face distasteful,
Because she loves him.
Through fifty years of marriage,
She overlooks his faults,
Because she loves him.
Like Jesus, both look beyond
The surface, to the soul,
Because they love each other.
Mary S. Palmer
1/25/12
When cupid's arrow
Hit its mark long ago,
One couple felt the piercing,
And love endured.
He doesn't see
That her hair is thinning,
Because he loves her.
Nor does he notice
The wrinkles around her lips,
Because he loves her.
Through fifty years of marriage,
He sees none of her faults,
Because he loves her.
She doesn't see
His stomach pouch,
Because she loves him.
Nor does she find
His unshaven face distasteful,
Because she loves him.
Through fifty years of marriage,
She overlooks his faults,
Because she loves him.
Like Jesus, both look beyond
The surface, to the soul,
Because they love each other.
Mary S. Palmer
1/25/12
Friday, January 6, 2012
Occasional Poem
REL and MLK
Two men lived a century apart.
One was white; one was black.
Very different, they had uncommon things in common.
Robert E. Lee was a southern aristocrat
Who fought on the side of the south
In the uncivil Civil War.
Martin Luther King, Jr. was an advocate
Of civil rights who pushed his cause
To the death--his own.
They lived a century apart
In worlds that vastly changed,
And made things more the same.
Their names had similarities.
The letter "L" appeared in both:
Lee's last name and King's middle one.
Both lived life with a passion,
Fighting for a cause, as leaders
Who refused to succumb.
Separated in ideals at the time,
They are now both honored
On the same day--January 17.
Mary S. Palmer
1/6/12
Two men lived a century apart.
One was white; one was black.
Very different, they had uncommon things in common.
Robert E. Lee was a southern aristocrat
Who fought on the side of the south
In the uncivil Civil War.
Martin Luther King, Jr. was an advocate
Of civil rights who pushed his cause
To the death--his own.
They lived a century apart
In worlds that vastly changed,
And made things more the same.
Their names had similarities.
The letter "L" appeared in both:
Lee's last name and King's middle one.
Both lived life with a passion,
Fighting for a cause, as leaders
Who refused to succumb.
Separated in ideals at the time,
They are now both honored
On the same day--January 17.
Mary S. Palmer
1/6/12
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