Tag: writing

Day 187-Focus Challenge 2-Writing Scenario to Story Premise

Fiction Writing Exercises for Stimulating Creativity Writing #365daynovel

From a simple scenarios form the basis for a story. Your job is to come up with three story premises for the scenario. Be creative and try to avoid the most obvious premises.

Chosen scenario:

  • A man and a woman are sitting across from each other at a small table in a dimly lit restaurant.

Premise 1:

A young, attractive couple sits together in the same dimly lit restaurant night after night. She has long auburn hair and bright green eyes, he had crystal blue eyes and thick dark brown hair. They are the picture of health and beauty. They are always deeply engaged in conversation. Just simple things that seem so very day-to-day, yet they exude excitement and wonder as they talk. They seem to never notice anyone around them, they are totally in a world all their own.

Young lovers, most would assume, happy and engaged in each other’s interests.
They talk only to each other, and look only at each other. The locals are used to them. no one ever talks to them or approaches them. They are allowed to carry on alone, uninterrupted, and almost unnoticed. Rarely is anyone ever seated close to them, so they continue in their own way. It is best this way.

Then strangers come in. Some don’t give them more than a passing glance. Some notice that something is different about this striking couple, others are attracted to them wanting to engage them in conversation. Their excitement for life seems to bubble over needing to be shared. It is like an energy that flows from them in quiet waves that invigorate the senses of anyone close by. They draw others in without even a glance or word to them directly. They have a unexplainable attraction to those who don’t know.

Locals watch, pitying those that fall under their spell. Those that join them at their table appear to have a wonderful evening with them, but when the restaurant closes, this beautiful couple is the last to leave, and somehow they always leave alone. Their new friends, what of them? The rumors  among the townsfolk speak of untold horrors, and these new friends are never seen again.

Premise 2:

A young couple in their teens sits together in a dimly lit restaurant trying to blend into the atmosphere of romantic lovers. The environment around them is strained as they practically will themselves to appear as completely enthralled young lovers, hoping that no one will notice them from anyone else in the place.

They hide in the darkest booth in the far back of the restaurant, praying that creature that killed their parents won’t look for them here. They don’t know what it is or where it came from, only that it is after something that their parents knew and now it seeks them since it did  not find what it was looking for in their house or glean the information from their parents.

They are hunted by the  police as well because they neighbors reported the murders and only saw them running from the house. They have no money, no car, and no  place to go, and it is only a matter of time before they are found. Somehow they must escape the creature and the  police until they can figure out the truth about what has happened and find the only person they can trust to help, and old friend of their father’s. But even this man is shrouded in mystery and they must walk in shadows until they can be sure if he will be their salvation, or more of their doom.

Premise 3:

An innocent couple is tucked away in the far corner of a romantic restaurant enjoying their meal, talking of an upcoming vacation when an explosion rocks the neighborhood sending the high-rise hotel next door crashing into the restaurant. They manage to flee the bay window table they are in, just as the building dissolves around them and they are trapped beneath the rubble. A section of the building remains where they are all trapped, but many are injured and the structure that is left won’t last long. Now they are in a race against time to get help and to find a way out, helping as many others as they can.

Roger is an EMT and Miranda a nurse, and they must use all their skills to survive, even as warning on Roger’s radio warn of another impending attack in more buildings in their area.

Ok, this was my writing exercise for the #365daynovell course I joined yesterday. This is day 2 of my challenge. Let me know what you think of my story premises from this exercise. The exercise was supplied by Writing Forward.

365daynovel.com/gigijb

 

Day 176-Halloween-The Harpist’s Wife

Happy Halloween! Today I am sharing another one of my ghost stories with you. I wrote this one some years ago as well, but it is all my own.  It was inspired by years of playing in the local cemetery behind my grandmother’s house, with my cousins while I was growing up.  It was published about 3 years ago on  Yahoo Contributor when I was writing for them, before they closed down the site, so there is some chance you may have seen it before. If you have, enjoy it again, if you haven’t, than welcome to the world of:

The Harpist’s Wife

It was a cold, dark, rainy, windy, night with lightning flashing and thunder rumbling loudly, and yet we were still there. We were stupid, foolish teenagers. We knew we shouldn’t be there; it was crazy and dangerous. We knew the stories were true, but we just had to see for ourselves. The legend said that if anyone went out to the cemetery on a night like this, one of them would not return from the Harpist’s grave, yet we still went. We had to know for ourselves. Call it dumb, invincible; know it all teen age pride and morbid, curiosity. We were six, when we went there that night.
Legend was that if anyone ventured into the cemetery on a night just like this one, you would see the Harper, hear him play, and watch as once again, he murders his wife, who smashes his harp in a jealous rage. Because the harp truly was his first love, in his will he left his full estate to the harp’s protection. It was to be enshrined atop his grave, in the most shatter proof glass, held together with thick steel, plated with solid gold. Lights shone upon it from either side, that it might shine like a god of the music world, he perceived it to be. He wanted it there, where he was sure, even in death; he could reach up and play it. And many say he plays it often. Many have heard it, and tell stories of reliving the night he murdered his wife with one of its broken strings, severing her throat. But each time there have been new witnesses to this crime, there has also been a new victim. His wife still tries to escape him, but for this there must be a trade, a soul for a soul. She must possess a mortal in order to flee from him.
So there the six of us were, standing in the stormy, dark night with only the light from the harp and the lightning waiting like lambs to the slaughter at the foot of the Harpist’s grave.
The thing about legends is that sometimes there are parts of them that people know, but are too afraid to speak of, so they only tell what they think will scare others away.
At precisely, 2:13 a.m., the harp began to play, and the harpist appeared at its side, an ordinary looking man, slender with shoulder length dark hair. Soon his lovely wife appeared, a vision of beauty with long flowing red hair, which surprised us, because every recounting of this story described her different, but always beautiful. They both were dressed in the finery of the late 1800’s. We watched as they began to fight. The real harp never moved from its shrine, and its music continued to play, as a vision of it fell to the ground. The Harpist scrambled to protect it, as she chopped it with an ax. Several times he narrowly escaped harm himself, crying in anguish as his precious harp broke into pieces.
She stood back weary and exhausted, dropping the ax to the ground, smiling. The Harpist plucked a long thin, sharp string from among the wreckage, and rose to face her. His hands wound tightly around the ends of the string until they began to bleed. Her smile faded, and she began looking for a place to flee for safety, it was then, they became aware of us watching.
She ran toward us wildly begging for protection, for a place of refuge. We scattered in different directions trying to get out of their path. I ran, my heart pounding, I could hear her footfalls behind me and her voice beseeching me to save her. I screamed that I could not help her because she was already dead. I stumbled over a low headstone, and fell and she fell upon me, and then we were one.
I felt her fear and my own, as she urged me to run, but I had broken my ankle in the fall and could only hobble. I cried for help from the others, but they would not come near because they had seen us become one, and they were afraid, but watched from the shadows.
I stumbled away as quickly as I could, but the Harpist overtook me, and I felt the bite of the string around my neck, cutting into my flesh. I could neither scream nor fend him off, though I tried. He over powered me. I felt my blood flowing down my neck, and my life slipping away.
In my head I heard her voice, “Thank you for setting me free, I am so sorry it had to be you.” Then I felt her fade away, and my world went dark.
When I awoke, the Harpist was once more playing his harp as though nothing had happened. My friends and the traveler were crying and screaming as they ran from the cemetery, leaving me behind. I called to them to wait, but they didn’t seem to hear me. As I started to follow after them, my foot caught on something on the ground. It was then that I knew what she had meant. Below me lay the body that once was mine, on the ground.
As I looked up, the Harpist beckoned to me. “Come my dear wife; let the music of the harp bring you peace, at least for a while.” I tried to walk away, but I found I could not leave the cemetery.
This was the part of the legend, no one would pass along. This was why no one described her the same way twice. Because each time she succeeded in freeing herself, she passed on her legacy to the one who took her place. This I now know, because for now until the next legend seekers came to the cemetery, on a stormy night, I am the Harpist’s wife.

Day 175-Hook Arms’ House- a Pre-Halloween Treat

Well with Halloween being tomorrow, I thought I might share one of my ghost stories with you. I wrote this one some years ago, based on a story that was passed around by high school students when I was just a young child. A place on an old country road dubbed Hook Arms house due to these rumors actually existed, but has long since been torn down.

This story was published once on Yahoo Contributor when I was writing for them, before they closed down the site, so there is some chance you may have seen it before. If you are from my small town,  you have probably heard the original rumors before, but now here’s the whole story. Hope you enjoy a good spook story. Happy All Hallows Eve Eve. I will have another original ghost story for you for tomorrow.

 

Hook Arm’s House

In the 1970’s, a series of unfortunate events, hurled a small Hill Country, rural town, into a ghost story, never forgotten.

Because of the trouble that ensued at the time this story broke, I am not allowed to tell you exactly what road, what town, or even any real names that are in any way connected to this tale. It has taken more than 30 years, to restore the peace around this area, which can only be kept by keeping thrill seekers away. He is now, just a forgotten legend, and for everyone’s safety, that is best. But, I haven’t forgotten, thus, I share his tale.

He returned from the war, with a hook in the place of his left arm, and adopted the name, Hook Arm, whether he wanted it or not. He lived alone in a meager two room shack that stood 100 yards off the county road just outside of town at the end of a short country lane, lined with trees. A grove of trees stood behind the shack as well, and one large and very old tree stood just to the left of it, giving shade to the small abode.

Hook stayed mostly to himself, haunted by the memories of war, and the family he had lost. In the beginning he did nothing to warrant the fear people had for him and his hook, but then one summer, quite by mistake, that all changed.

A family with a little girl, about seven, moved into the cabin in the field, across the county road. Neighbors immediately warned the family to stay away from the man who lived in the nearby shack. They told terrifying stories of Hook Arm, though he had never harmed anyone.

The girl often rode her bike down the county road. She would waive to Hook Arm tending his garden, and he would wave back. One day, she fell from her bike, around the curve just out of sight of her house, but still close enough for Hook to see her from his garden. He went to her. Her legs were scraped, she was crying, and could not ride her bike like she was. He carried her back to her house, walking her bike alongside him. Her parents were afraid, and thanked him, but quickly sent him away, warning the girl to stay away from him.

In spite of her parents’ warnings, the little girl was not afraid, and would ride down to his house to visit him, bringing him biscuits and things she snuck from her mother’s table. They became fast friends. He would often tell her stories of the little girl that he had lost.

One day the little girl arrived at his house, with a basket of muffins, and found that he was not home. Wanting to leave the muffins anyway, she left her bike leaning against the big tree at the side of the shack, and tried to find a way in. She wandered around the back of the shack and fell into an old, shallow hand dug well, when she stepped through its rotten plywood cover. That evening a storm came and the well quickly filled with water.

It was after dark and raining when Hook Arm returned and he did not see her bike leaning against the tree.

The little girl’s parents became alarmed when she did not return home before dark. They enlisted the neighbors to search the road for her, but did not find her or her bike.

From his kitchen window, in a flash of lightning, Hook Arm saw the bike leaning on the tree. He went out into the storm with a flash light, looking for his little friend. In the back yard, he found a piece of her torn dress on the collapsed plywood well cover. Shining the light into the well, he could barely see her face beneath the water. He knew she was gone. He laid in the mud, and stretched out his arms, barely able to reach her and drag her to the surface.

When he laid her down, he saw that there was a large gash in her head, and her leg was broken. He knew then that she had been knocked unconscious and drowned. He picked her up and carried her all the way back to the road. He wailed so loudly that his anguished screams were heard by the search party out looking for the girl. When they saw Hook Arm carrying her, they attacked him, assuming the worst. He tried to explain that he had found her and was too late to save her, but their fear turned to instant blame, and the neighbors became an angry mob. They chased Hook Arm back to his house, where he tried to barricade himself in, but they broke in and beat him until he could no longer fight back. Then they hung him from the large tree in his yard, left him to die, and set fire to his shack.

The storm became tremendously vicious that evening. When morning broke, his body was gone from the tree, never to be found, though the noose still hangs there, and his house though scorched and blackened still stands.

According to legend, he bargained with the Devil, who set him free, and allowed him to seek revenge on mankind for hating him. Many mysterious deaths occurred, including one by one each of the neighbors who helped to hang him.

The story made headlines, causing countless groups of fun seekers to travel to Hook Arm’s House to see where this happened, as well as to see if they could glimpse him roaming the grounds. Often an old, soaking wet, disheveled man, with a hook arm, and a bent neck, twisted from hanging is seen walking the dirt road leading down to his shack.

Almost all who return tell stories of running for their lives from a wet, dirty man with a hook arm but even more have gone, and never returned.

Occasionally, the missing thrill seekers are found brutally beaten and hanging from the tree by the house, while others appear to be drowned in the old well. The trees on his land are scarred with slashes from his hook, left behind from when he exacted his revenge on his attackers. But for each new person he catches, a new slash appears on one of his trees, and to date, there are many.

Often Hook Arm is seen tending his garden next to be blackened house. It grows beautifully ever year. He waves at passers-by; be sure to wave back, but don’t ever stop!

Day 166-The Writing on the Stall Wall

Our 8:00 am conversation around the Billing department was rather comical this morning. It all began because Neil  brought donuts to share for his birthday.

Sharon announced, as we were coming in, “Neil brought donuts to share, they are in the back!”

To which I responded, “Oh cool, is it his birthday?”

At this point several other ladies chimed in and the conversation went something like this:

“Yes today’s Neil’s birthday.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Oh, I read it in the bathroom.”

“Oh, on the stall news, I guess I missed that.”

“Ya that’s how we find out everything these days.”

Laughing, “It used to be when someone said they read it in a bathroom, that meant it was written on the wall, like in the old days. “Call for a good time…””

“Now the Safety Stall News is where we find things out.”

“It just sounds wrong, “I read  in the bathroom that it is your
birthday today.” Laughing.

“Yup we get our news on the Toilet Tabloid!”

The conversation really went down hill from here with much humor, but not everything said can be repeated, only laughed at.

Have a great day, I will be watching for your name on the stall walls.

Day 138-Focus Challenge 1-Comfort

It was suggested to me that the picture I posted of the hay field shrouded in fog, gave one of my readers comfort. It wasn’t actually a writing suggestion, but I decided to run with it anyway. Thank you, Mary Beth Lindig Kendrick.

When I originally posted that picture, I just liked it, and for me the fog suggested a bit of mystery, or even spookiness, yet beauty. My friend suggested to me that for her, it brought forth feelings of comfort. For her it was a sense of home, safety, and a blanketing of comfort. I had never looked at fog quite like that, but I definitely can see where she sees this, and it got me to looking at it a bit differently.

I began to think of the things we associate comfort with, and what comfort means.

By definition: (according to Merriam Webster)
First in the verb, it means: to give strength and hope; or to ease the grief or trouble of.
As a noun, it means: to be a strengthening support or assistance, solace; or a contented well-being; satisfying or enjoyable experience.

I believe we all understand and can agree on what comfort is in the first sense of comforting one in grief or stress, but comfort as a noun, is where we both agree and disagree. Or perhaps, not disagree, but instead, differ as to what it is or does for each of us.

For this discussion, let’s focus on the definition: as a noun. So the question is, what do we associate with comfort?

There is a wide variety of things that we associate with bringing us that sense of safety, solace, cheer, well-being, and all around stress and grief free feeling, if only for a little while? We use things such as food, clothing, places, activities and people to help us achieve that sought after sense of comfort.

Have you ever thought about what makes you feel comfort? Perhaps it is different things at different times or for different reasons?

Food is quite often a big one for many. We eat things that remind us of better and calmer times, when things were happy. Ice cream, chocolate, desserts, and even candy are often turned to because they were many times childhood rewards or treats for special times and occasions.  Certain dinners or dishes that mom or grandma used to make can also be sought after as comforts.

I like fried turkey steak, home-made oatmeal cookies, coconut cream pie, and red velvet cake with my grandmothers cooked butter cream icing. I grew up eating turkey steak because we raised turkeys my whole life. Oatmeal cookies remind me of hauling hay with our neighbors. Meta would always make a washtub (I kid you not) full of oatmeal cookies, with tea and lemonade for a break when we came to do their hay.  My Oma Birck (grandmother) always made coconut cream pie and red velvet cake for birthdays. They were two of my favorite things she made. Do you have comfort foods? What are they, and why?

A piece of clothing or a blanket may also create good feelings of comfort. Growing up in an old rock house, I was always cold because it held the cold in, so I was usually wrapped up in a blanket or six. Because of this, even in the heat of summer I don’t sleep well unless it is cool enough to be under at least a sheet and preferably a light blanket. But ironically summer clothes are my comfort clothes, because though I love my blankets, I don’t like being bundled tightly in anything especially not heavy clothes for winter. Shorts and beach dresses are my comfort clothes.

The beach, Enchanted Rock State Park, and the waterfall on our creek are some of my comfort places. Before E-Rock was a state park we went there on a regular basis to climb, run around, and play so it is a big childhood fun time memory place for me. When ever my family didn’t have time for big vacation trips which by the time I came along they were few and far between, we would go down to the beach and play around for a few days. The sand, the waves, and the sea shells are the best source of comfort and peace I know. They just seem to reach into my soul and relax me. The waterfall on our home place is a spot filled with family and friend memories throughout my life. We swam, bathed, picnicked, played, fished,and just hung out there. Often it was a good place to escape to think, write, cry and relax alone as well.

And to add to this list there is one place I love and that is Disney World. I have only been twice in my lifetime, but I found it fun and fascinating each time. If I could afford to go often and take my family it would be a comfort place as well, because it represents the best parts of life which is the magic of youth and imagination, where you can just have fun, be silly and ride the same ride five times in a row if you want to, before moving on to the next adventure.

Where are your comfort places? Do you still go to any of them? Why are they special?

Other things that give me comfort, are many of the beauties of the natural world, put there by the Lord for all to observe. Sunsets, sunrises, fields of flowers, large bodies of water, fields of hay, most baby animals, and my children, all inspire comfort and joy in my heart and soul.

Stop for a moment and reflect, what are your comfort things?

 

Day 134-Focus on a Writing Challenge

Focus is sometimes the hardest part of writing. I often sit down to write and end up with nothing because I have so many things on my mind that I would like to write about that I leave the page blank in indecision.

Part of my problem is simply not wanting to be like so many others I see. I don’t want to get on here and tell you my life story all the time. I don’t want to use this a place to rant and rave about problems, people, and day-to-day things that irritate me. Trust me the temptation is there quite often. I don’t want to complain or say things that would cause any grief or backlash to any of my friends or family. That is hard quite often too, because sometimes I have a very valid gripe and maybe even an idea of how to better things, but know that voicing these things would only make things worse because the people involved simply don’t think they are allowed to be questioned and would take it out on others.

I am not a “politically correct” person, I prefer to say what I think, albeit in as polite but straight forward way that I can. The problem with this, is also knowing when to speak and when to perhaps wait for a more appropriate time. This is an even harder point, because those of us that like to speak our mind honestly, usually don’t like to have to hold our tongues, but necessity is sometimes just that.

I prefer to stay out of all things political, frankly because that seems to be all I see, hear and read right now, and I just don’t want to add to it, or argue about it with anyone. I do my own research, make my own choices, talk to people on occasion about it, but my views are my views and I don’t want to debate them on here.

I want to write interesting things, although this one may not be, but sometimes you just have to write your way through what you are thinking in order to create a subject to focus on. That is what I am doing today. I have so many things going on in my life that I would love to vent about, but it wouldn’t be wise, so then I have trouble focusing and coming up with an actual subject.

I have considered the idea of allowing my readers to pick subjects and ideas for me to write about. I am mostly a creative writer so I like fiction. It is fun and freeing. I have done plenty of non-fiction as well, and even a little history, tons of poetry, some community interest pieces, short, long and in between.  And now I blog,  where the subject matter is less organized and more spontaneous, which is good and bad. I had intended it to be more daily so that I would write more, but then my favorite subject (ie. rockets) only has big news a few times a year, so I have to find other things to write about.

As you can tell, I can be long-winded, but I have finally come to the Focus of this blog piece. I will continue to write what I want as the mood strikes, but in order to keep me writing on a more regular basis, I would like to entertain the idea of letting people who read this blog, suggest story ideas for me to contemplate and possibly  use. What I will probably do is continue to title my blogs with the blog day # like I do, but then on days that the subject is picked by a reader I will call them Challenge Stories and they will have an assigned # and Title. I will also occasionally write a blog giving the latest ideas and highlighting the ones that I plan to use. Now this will just be for fun but if I use an idea I will reference the  person that suggested it. Be creative, adventurous, and fun.

I guess I will see if anyone really reads this now won’t I?  if no one sends messages with ideas I know I am only writing to entertain myself, which if that is the case, at least I know my audience, don’t I?

If you are interested, just comment on the blog, or on Facebook  under the story, or m or message me with your subject idea. Let’s have fun…….

Day 6-Crazy Tuesday

It was just another crazy Tuesday at work, getting ready for Billing on Friday, which I won’t be there for since I will be, you guessed it, chasing rockets. Due to that though I had some reports and things to run and check in a hurry so that all would be done in my absence that could be. What comes in after tomorrow will be someone else’s to deal with, except what is left when I get there on Monday. Oh Monday, bad word, it will be a tired Monday after a fun, but tiring weekend. That’s ok, because it is always fun and so worth it to be involved with SystemsGo.

Chelsea drove truck all day today for her job. She put in 12 hours behind the wheel for her employer. This is new for her only the second week, to do this, because their usual drivers are out with injuries. That’s ok she took to it like a pro. There is nothing that girl won’t tackle I believe. So proud of how strong and independent she is. She is a special girl. She is a sweetheart too. She left me the sweetest note on my bed when she left Monday telling me how much she loves me and believes she is lucky to have me for her mom. Made me cry. I love her tons. She and her sister Kasey are such jewels. I am the lucky one to have both of them.

Well the parenting class I have been attending, for the last 8 weeks is winding down. In fact, we are going to close up shop after next week’s class, I do believe. I can’t say it hasn’t been interesting, even if I didn’t really want to go in the beginning. There really is a lot of things people could learn for their roles with children. In fact it wouldn’t hurt every parent to take this course even if they aren’t required too. I really wish my husband would have had to take it too, but he got out of it claiming to be on call and having to miss too many classes.  There is much he could have used from it.

In all honesty, there isn’t a person in the class that would have taken it willingly. Thank you to our sons for providing this necessity. That being said, though, we are all lucky that our sons are the great kids they are, because it has worked in their favor in this little one time big goof up of theirs. In spite of this, I love him greatly and nothing could change that, and I try to tell him daily. He is still my prince.

It has actually been fun though. Our instructor is great. Having him on speed dial as an extra disciplinarian has come in handy too. Having the, “let’s see what Ron says” option has come in handy a time or two and will probably again before this little ride is completely over.

Someday, I might post the story I have written about this little adventure, and tell you all about it, but for now, I just want to see it to its end and hope it is behind us never to be revisited again. Hopefully no more proverbial bridges in our future. Let’s just leave it at that.

Only one more work day, and then Chelsea and her friend Guy will be here again and the rest of the week/weekend will be all about the Rockets. Well almost there will be a wedding mixed in there too. Not sure how that will all work out, but I am sure it will. This reminds me I need to see if the dress is ready to pick up tomorrow since we will be in Willow the rest of the week. One more thing for the to do list.

It is funny how each day I start this thinking what will I write? Nothing happened in my life today, interesting enough to write about, and then the words just start flowing. I hope you find some interest in my silly little blog. It hasn’t drawn much attention, likes or even any posts or comments, so I really don’t even know if anyone is reading it. That’s ok, though, because it’s very therapeutic for me and that’s what it is really for anyway.

Well, I do believe I am about done for this evening. Tune in tomorrow to see what words of wisdom or ridiculousness I come up with again. And definitely you want to tune in Thursday through Sunday for more up to date Rocket’s high lights.

Catch you tomorrow on a Whirlwind Wednesday.

www.systemsgo.org as always is the place for more information on this program. Take the time to get your school involved, the future of your students will be greatly benefited.

 

In The Beginning

This is basically a writer’s blog, with the main writer being of course, me. It will be a way to share writing and keep myself busy doing some form of writing, hopefully every day. At some times it will be things I have written and want to share. At other times, it will be interesting things I am involved in that I want to share with you, whomever you may be that decide you want to read my words of wisdom, or perhaps not. You see, there I go, sometimes things may be really serious, other times they may be completely goofy and off the wall.

I will give you a little preview of next week’s blogs. I do intend to share some highlights from the SystemsGo Fredericksburg Rocket Launches in Willow City. If I can figure this out and add pictures I will try to do that too. I am helping with recovery again this year, and am super excited to help. It is always a blast. There will also be a live video link so you can come out and watch in person or from the safety of your computer at home.

If you have never heard of this, it is part of the STEM program now available in area high schools. STEM stands for Science, Technology, Engineering, and Math and is designed to start our children in future careers in all these now heavily technical fields. If you listen to the radio you may have heard ads by the US Navy backing this program (STEM), they are highly interested in receiving candidates that have had prior training and education in this program because our military has become very hi tech as well. This program benefits our youth whether going the college and job route or the military route. If you have a junior high or high school age student encourage them to get into the STEM program at their school. If your school has not yet developed a program, encourage them to do so, because these are the big jobs of the future.

Skills learned in the different areas required by STEM and programs like the rocket program and other programs in STEM encompass more than just the four core classes you hear in the name STEM. Students in these programs, learn skills in mechanics, welding, PlasmaCAM, wood working, and other hands on building skills. They learn grant writing and proposals in order to fund their projects. They learn business skills, presentation and marketing, research and analysis, design and development, materials, inventory, and product ordering and so much more. Most of all they learn critical thinking and how to work both on their own and as a part of a larger group that each contributes a vital piece to their project in order to have it completed and successful.

I personally have had a nephew, niece and 2 daughters that have gone through our local program and they have all benefited from it greatly. My nephew, is top management at SpaceX in McGregor, TX, my niece is in Avionics Electronics  in the US Navy, one daughter is an Aviation Structural Mechanic for helicopters in the US Navy, and my older daughter is studying Electrical Engineering at Texas Tech University.

This week several of our program graduates, the SYSTEMSGO coordinators, and several volunteers are headed to Clute down by Lake Jackson, TX to help several Houston area schools launch their rockets. Next week the team and many more volunteers will be here at Hillview Ranch in Willow City, TX to help over 30 Texas high schools attempt to launch over 80 more rockets. It is well worth the time to watch, not only to see the rockets fly, but to see the joy in the students’ faces as their project of 1-2 years in the making, comes to a successful end. To clarify, even if the rocket doesn’t fly, it is still a success in all that the students learned to get it here, and in what they will continue to learn from analyzing what went wrong that prevented it’s flight. The hard work that is done to get them to this point is the true success and is a catalyst that will help launch them into their future careers.

Ok maybe I did know what  to write about today.

Houston launches are this weekend, May 9 & 10.

Fredericksburg launches are next week, May 14-17. Come watch them or watch online at the SystemsGo web page. Directions and details are also on this website.

http://www.systemsgo.org/announcements/rockets-2015-fredericksburg-launch-details

Watch this crazy blog for more updates.