It picks up on this last day of January. I didn’t think the month would finish that well, but it turns out, it hasn’t been as much of a cold downer as usual. There’s much to be thankful for, many new passions to pursue, and a new admiration for friends who are living life in a courageous manner. It’s funny how we’re always finding new connections. They’re always around, and they always manage to bring us new hope.

In my “new more” instead of “no more” I produced a nonfiction book. The book is not necessarily a “how to” book, (which I have reason to believe those books may be on the way out) but it’s more of an “add to your repertoire” kind of thing- much like adding oregano to spinach. You don’t need it, but it makes the food taste better. That’s what this one is. You can live your life without it, but if you use it, you’ve upped your game.

When writing fiction, there were problems. Even with the good quality stuff, there was controversy splattered all over the place. That would be considered a “no more” and I’m sort of glad for it. With nonfiction, while not as much fun to write, there’s a certain satisfaction in that if the product is good; it will sell itself. If you’re not a salesman, which I’m not, that makes it easier and much less of a headache.

In fiction, you have to pound the literary pavement, and then even when your name is discovered, you still have to have a day job. The book might bring you a ‘star’ position later, but in reality, writers don’t always want that. They want to be left alone to write, so they’ll take the “rich” over the “famous” any day. And even then, they take it just so they can pay bills so they can write, and then write some more. It’s addicting, the writing thing because you’re always moving forward and producing more “new” and that keeps you from lingering too far back with what’s old.

For the first time in a long time, I organized my closet. It’s perfect- all the new clothes bringing excitement to the old ones. The new shoes that make everything look put together, just parked on the floor, the perfect finishing touch to the work of colorful, cotton, blended, art. The sweats are right at the front, sitting on an old sofa table from my childhood, that I use as a shelf underneath the hanging clothes. It actually works well for what I use most, draped across it, so I can grab it and go. There’s comfort in some of the old things. I don’t think comfort will ever be a “no more,” but how we perceive it might be a “new more.” We’ll see.

Seasons, now that’s a ruby for sure. I’ve constantly tried to step out of one and into another, but it never works that way. You have to let one season play out, and then enjoy what’s next. I’ll probably always try and rush winter away, and in September, loathe the sticking heat. But there’s no reason to complain about it, except it works as a conversation starter. Sometimes change is slow, and the mountains seem like they’re never going to move, right?

Saying goodbye to “no mores” is a must when they don’t help the situation. Sweatpants that don’t fit shouldn’t be kept in the closet. They need to be removed, and the ones that you can wear out to places, the ones with no holes; those are the ones that need to fill the empty spot.

New things do shine, we just have to figure out what or where they are, as in people, friendships, places of worship, clothes, a change in passion, those are treasures. Sometimes we discover rubies on the last day of January, and that’s a perfect way to welcome in February.

“80 Suggestions to get from Homeschool, or High School, to College, or a Trade”

This book starts out with all the credits, the minimum, and the maximum of choices, a student needs to graduate high school. Then, it goes into some details that a student more than likely doesn’t know about. These details can help a student stand out in the application process whether it be for a scholarship, college, or job, and, it can help a student develop self-awareness and goals for life. The story is for the parents, as it helps show how their student can progress as the high school years occur.

by V. M. Jenkins

I think we woke up fighting, I don’t know, and I don’t want to remember. The whole project was as usual; he had never put french doors in a house, so the whole thing would end up as a day full of trial and error. I, his designated helper, was immaturely mad. I had other things I wanted to do as in finish formatting a book, but that could wait. The doors needed to be put up before they got broken, or worse, saturated in poodle pee.

The weather condition was pleasantly warm and windy, so we could keep the house open for a good few hours. The dogs were happy. They had about a six ft. open space, which made it easier for them to come and go for bathroom and exploring purposes. We spent six hours of the day doing, and redoing, the door frame because the doors didn’t fit quite right. I was livid, which in many ways was my natural demeanor these last two years.

“Did you do any research on this? I mean, it took us an hour to measure, cut, and nail in that frame, and I told you to tack it, but you didn’t, you put like a zillion nails in there. And now, the door won’t reach the other door, so you have to fix the threshold? And that means we have to rip out everything and start over?” I was not happy, and by this time, it was 2:00 in the afternoon. We’d spent the morning discussing and researching formatting a book. The type of book we were working on was different from anything we’d ever done before, so our patience was already compromised. We’d had a couple of yelling fits already.

“Look at it this way, we’re learning something, so we’ll be smarter. And yes, we have to take it out, but not all the way, just part of the way.” He’d already started sawing the shims with his hacksaw. I sat, two feet away from him, watching the sawdust fly into my house, and onto my furniture, which I knew would take weeks to get completely rid of. The little wood pieces hit the floor, while I continued to nag.

“We should have hired someone. We don’t do this, so it takes us twice as long. We should’ve hired the professionals to come in and do it for us. That’s what they do, so they’re in and out in no time,” I griped, holding the level as I sat planted comfortably on a stool while he worked.

“Yes, but with a large amount of my money. I need the exercise, and the money for our kids in college, so we can take a day and learn how to do this.” I watched him measure, and then go make the cut on the silver metal piece that would be screwed into the floor within the next minutes. The dogs happily ran in and out of the room while I sat contemplating cleaning up what I could, but in the end, there was no use. So I sat, clenching my jaw, hating the next few hours of the day, thinking there were other things I wanted to do. Then it hit me; we’d spent the day together, bickering and angry-a little disagreeable, but in the end, it wasn’t miserable.

I thought back on the last few months (and the last year). We fought a lot because we were faced with the fact that we didn’t have anything in common anymore. He knew it as well as I, and although we’d tried to find things to do together, we still hadn’t successfully completed that mission. I sat, watching the dogs, looking at that hole in my house thinking how it would take us both to fix it. We both had a part to play, and if one of us gave up, the hole would just be a large gateway for more damage. He came back in and immediately put the piece in, and it worked.

“I like it when it works,” he said, backing up to survey the frame that was only partially torn out. It wouldn’t be hard to put it back in place, and then nail it again with another fifty nails from that loud and obnoxious nail gun. I watched him get his mind on what needed to happen next, him outside the door, with the dogs, and me inside, just feet away.

“I’ll pop that in place, no nails, and then let’s get the door to see if it will work. I think it will. . . ” I interrupted him by jumping up and throwing my arms around his neck, and planting a kiss on him. He was startled, so it took us a couple of times to sink up, but he didn’t reject it.

“And that was for . . . ”

“We fought this morning, and then just about every step of the way with this project, and now, we needed a big finish. That’s the only way we’ll get through this day, right?”

You know, the rest of the day WAS just right. We finished that door at sunset, cleaned up all the tools and the sawdust, inside and out, together, and the doors are a beautiful, much-needed addition that leads out to our patio. And by the time we calculated our savings, we came out thousands ahead in so many more ways than one.

We’re still working on finding that happy medium, but until then, if we both keep making attempts at doing something a little off-color, and keeping the other guessing, the value of our home will just keep going up.

That day had everything attached to it; emotion, anger, frustration, conflict, and romance. Who knew that there could be so much to offer in the installation of a door? 🙂

“80 Suggestions to go from Homeschool, or Highschool, to College or a Trade” by V. M. Jenkins

“On That Day: Everybody Needs Friends” by V. M. Jenkins

“On That Day, She Met Him” by V. M. Jenkins

My son was in Harp’s the other day, a small town grocery store that tries to resemble a Whole Foods Market, here as of late. He was sent to get a few items, maybe four? And the one line in the only check-out aisle was long.

There were many shoppers in front of him, including one little old lady in the electronic shopping cart. She was noticeably agitated at the situation at hand, and getting a little more jittery as she watched the could-be checkers standing in close proximity to the line.

Some were doing productive things with good joyful attitudes while others were probably on their way to doing productive things, all of which were not to start another check-out line the customers observed. And judging from the smiles on their faces, they all had good joyful attitudes on this day. The woman noticed this, and decided to give up her place to correct it.

She rode over to a couple of employees and asked them if they could start another line. “Yes ma’am, we’ll get that done in just a moment.” The women left, one in one direction, and the other went someplace else. Both employees weren’t trying to be rude, nor were they in bad spirits; they just didn’t get the extra checkout line started, (my son noticed).

The woman in the grocery scooter didn’t give up there. She rode on and stopped another employee that was coming her way.

“We need another checkout line. There seems to be available people around, so would you start one, please? Or contact one of these other people? No one seems to be too terribly busy right at the moment.” The person actually smiled and agreed that he would do this, but he did not. He kept moving forward, obviously on his way to do something else and what, no one followed him to find out.

The woman, now frustrated at her two failed attempts at getting something productive accomplished, summoned a third person. This time, she wasn’t nice.

“Get me the manager, NOW!” the little old lady demanded. My son said that he, among the other people in line, all had to crack a smile because they all witnessed the perseverance in this little old woman who wanted nothing more than to see grocery store justice take place, and because she was willing to speak up, she got it, finally!

The manager was contacted, and speedy-quick, she hurried right over and listened to her complaint.

“I’ve spoken to two other of your employees, and I have not seen any results, but there’s a long line here, and we need another checker to open up another register so we can get home by Christmas, don’t you think?” Of course, the month was March.

“I’ll get right on it immediately. I’m sorry about the wait.” And she did! She didn’t have to speak to anyone, she just snapped her fingers, and someone was quickly opening up another check out line. The lady turned her little scooter around, and rode right over.

My son said that he wanted to do that so bad, what that little old lady did, but he knew it wouldn’t be well-received because of his age and demeanor. However, this woman, who lived a lot of years was not afraid to stand up for what was right, and in the end, she kept on till she saw the correct end results. She didn’t care what other people thought, as do young people of today, and she wasn’t giving up, and because she had that spirit, and no one else did, she greatly helped out a lot of people.

“There are just certain things that a an older person can get a way with that nobody else can,” concluded my son, as he told us the story of the little old lady who could.

(Funny, but nobody got a phone out to record that.)

Older people can still get things done because they will speak up and fight for what’s right. In the end, there are certain young people that applaud them, and are just glad to have them around, because we all know that if it weren’t for the old people, nothing would ever get done.

“They are still the best things ever,” my son commented (and yes, he really did say that, and this is absolutely a true story.) 🙂

Christian Filth by V. M. Jenkins on Amazon. Remember, my blog is to advertise written work only, and even though the book (more of a short Kindle read) has what looks like an offending title, it’s not. When you read the book, you understand the clever play on words. Thank you!

We’re supposed to write a letter to the nephew who is getting married, as the friend of the bride is going to scrapbook the letter, (among other letters) then send the “memory keeper” with the two young people as they venture to Florida for a romantic elopement. On their honeymoon, they’re supposed to read the letters, look at the pictures, and reminisce over their families and friends, (and of course their time together, leading up to their marriage).

My daughter comes in the room, and my husband, who thought my letter was too serious, therefore he took charge of the assignment, asked my daughter for advice on what to write. Of course she’s fifteen, and her answer was full of humorous sarcasm. “Just tell him I’m glad he finally caught one, cause it’s about time.” Of course my husband laughed. Then my husband remarked that he was going to figure out a way to put paint on both our dogs’ paws, and art a meticulous, pristine, paw print on the letter. (We have a chihuahua, and a tiny poodle.) “I’ll be sure and write in parenthesis that it’s their contribution to a signature, and not poo that they stepped in.” He belly laughed, I just sat there and stared at him, and then I remarked my classic line of, “That’s funny.” Then it hit me, “that was funny, but I didn’t laugh,” as I rarely do, because I’m not a laugher! I pondered on that for a second, then I had to talk about it.

“Have you never noticed that I never laugh? I’m not one to laugh at much of anything. But that was funny, you know, that the dogs didn’t step in poo and all? And then the remark from our youngest on how she’s proud he finally caught a girl; that’s funny too! But I can’t seem to break a smile over it. Interesting.” That made my happy husband chuckle some more, which I totally didn’t get.

“Well you know,” he began, with his blue eyes crinkled and twinkling, “Maybe that’s why God gave you, me. I laugh enough for the both of us, and sometimes, I can get a rise out of you, so I’d say we balance each other out.” He was right! When I really thought about it, he does balance my serious life, just like that old-fashioned, peeling paint, teeter-totter, that sat at the old school playground. When we were kids, my friends and I used to try and try to get that thing to hover evenly straight. It took a while, but we finally figured out that the teeter-totter only worked that way (perfectly balanced) when two kids were of equal weight (we were like six when we played on it). That’s my husband and me in a nutshell; we’re equal weight on that teeter-totter. Of course, if you read my blogs, (which I’m hoping to be blessed with a few more readers over this quarantine; that is if it’s in the will of God) you know where I’m going next with this.

My romance books, “Married in That Part of Arkansas,” the couple that started it all fit. They balanced each other out, which is why the male character couldn’t stand to not let that particular girl go. He loved her too much! In the next book, which is the last book, titled, “Another Wedding in That Part of Arkansas,” the other former football player was afraid of commitment, so he almost had to have the commitment before he could commit. If that makes your head spin, read the book and you’ll understand what I mean.

My husband remarked that we fit, when he met me. He desperately thought I was the one, and he even prayed I’d see it that way; that I had to marry him, and not the other guy. I won’t discuss whether there was another guy or not, because in all honesty, it’s not important anymore, considering I’ve been married for thirty years now. And in that thirty years, the one powerful thing that’s kept us together all this time, that my husband reminded me on this evening: we’re good together, and that evens it out.

I can go on and on, and write more, because I’m in the mood to write about my funny man, but I won’t. Instead I’ll recommend the book, “That Part of Arkansas,” a good read for all ages of sixteen and above, out on kindle for free. The true meat of marriage is the second book “Married in That Part of Arkansas.” I wrote the guy a playboy, and the girl beautiful, which is very different from my husband and me. But, the love in the book, now that came straight from us. And the perfect fit, that’s what we’re all looking for ladies; isn’t it? In the meantime, enjoy the books, but please read them all the way through. You only understand the meaning of them when you read till the end. Until we meet again, in what I call a fog blog.

*WARNING: while my teen series is geared toward all ages, this series is very real, with real world situations. Even though it would be nice to live in a “clean” world; we don’t. I wrote the “Arkansas” series with some real-world situations, that even I don’t agree with. And… the last two books are about marriage, so they’re absolutely not appropriate for young girls. You can’t be a writer and write fantasy-perfect, even though I wish we lived in a world that could be described as that. Furthermore…the book you get free on kindle, it is written in a very different tone from the other two, so please be aware of this if you decide to read the series. Also, I am a relationship writer, which that is my focus in all the books. Some writers do best with creative plots, or character description. I lack in these areas, but connection between the characters, that part is my stronghold. That is the point of the books, the connection between a man and a woman in marriage, because marriage is a beautiful thing when practiced correctly. And that my friends, is the point of the books.*

I love that song. It reminds me of when I first married and went on a vacation in year two. That song blasted on our car radio the whole way to Florida, as we sped (probably) for twelve hours to Fort Walton Beach. We sang with it, kept ourselves pepped up by it, turned it up loud, and stayed motivated and awake because the enthusiasm of that song just did something to the soul! We wanted to drive man! And that’s what we were about; we were living the “drive.”

Yesterday, I saw on the news, where the oldest living World War II Veteran, who was 110, gave his secret for living such a long life. He was articulate, bright-eyed, and adorable. He sat there with his daughter in her seventies, and told the world that his own secret to life was that he just loved everybody! “Love your fellow man, that will make life looooong, and sweet.”

I thought about his highway of life, and I wondered what he’d seen, gone through and experienced as a black man who fought in a great war for this country. This man, I honestly wanted to meet and listen to. That’s rare for me because now-a-days, I tend to run from new people. I just sort of find them, well, stressful.

I’ve learned to avoid people, so much so that I’m afraid I’ve gotten quite good at it, as in my social skills are just sharp enough to get me in and out, quickly, in just about any situation. It’s sad really because when you stay away, love fades. And then human spirit seems to die. (This is a good place to pause and wonder.)

Something sparked from that WWII vet. I all of a sudden wanted to venture out among the public, and be nice to them.

I went to the grocery store and actually smiled at people revealing my yellow, disgusting coffee-stained teeth, and my forever blinking eyes. You know something? I don’t think anybody cared! I think we all had a good time, as I discussed with the cashier that we’re all trying to make a living, and her daughter who has two kids and lives with her, just got a new job at Freddie’s, and she liked it just fine.

I smiled at those nail ladies at the local Walmart, and you know something? They didn’t really smile back, but I didn’t care, because I tried and was having such a good time trying, I ended up having a beautiful day. Just about everybody I came in contact with made me happy, and I think I made them happy by just trying to show a little “nice” on my face.

I usually try to appear approachable but stand-offish, or more importantly, someone that just wishes to remain as part of the crowd. I secretly live in fear that someone might try and strike up a conversation with me, and then I’d answer some simple question wrong. I get real in my conversations, and people just can’t handle that. But to avoid conversing altogether, that’s not the answer.

“I certainly have not the talent which some people possess, of conversing easily with those I have never seen before, “explained Mr. Darcy. Miss Elizabeth informed her husband to be, as her fingers swept along the piano keys, “My fingers do not move over this instrument in the masterly manner which so many women’s do. They have not the same force or rapidity, and do not produce the same expression. But then, I have always supposed it to be my fault … because I would not take the trouble of practicing.” Jane Austen gives such classical advice, does she not?

Yesterday, the song, the memory of that great time in life, the veteran’s advice, yes, I made a point to decide to be nice to my fellow man, and I had all that I just mentioned swept up into a simple fun day! When you love people, you automatically bleed it! (Or maybe a better word would be ‘radiate’ it).

When you talk to people, you never know who you might inspire.

So many ways I could close this blog because as I’ve mentioned, I have the highway of life, a veteran with good strong words to live by, and a successful road trip home from Wal-mart in which I talked to people, and they were lovely. Life is a highway, and it’s simple and matchless in that part of Arkansas. 🙂

“You cannot write about us in your blog!” was the request that I was reminded from my family before I started doing this; writing a blog. This blog started out as being solely about the books I write, but a writer writes what she knows, and I know my family, so the two are destined to intertwine. And of course, they will, have, and do.

The characters in a book that a writer writes, somehow gets embedded in the head. They’re fair-weathered friends that travel and live as part of the family for a while. They eat, sleep, shower, buy groceries, put them up, let the dog out, let the dog back in, make the trip to buy gas, mow the lawn, work out at the gym, and go to church and restaurants because they’re there visiting, and therefore, they’re always around.

They slip out into conversation from time-to-time, but my family, (not accommodating might I add) demands that they go right back in the brain and stay there, in their dwelling place. I obey, putting them back that is, because the characters are not meant to pester, but their entertainers amidst the pages of the book. They have to come out with the author in order to live well, and develop. You (in general) can’t cage them up, or leave them on the computer because they won’t work to their full potential that way, in the writing. They can’t grow when not given sunlight, and allowed to live, and receive nourishment.

That is the point of my blog today; searching the meaning of the word naive in which “our family world” has come to graciously live it, and then actually be grateful for it. It’s a great word, and here is why…I’ll be fast.

When we began our home school journey, we knew it was the right way to go for one of our children, who was a twenty-four hour, seven-day-a-week, thinker. The world was going to get in his head, and that head was made to study and think, so schooling at home was a brilliant plan that we were glad to stumble across.

However, when it came time to make the decision for our other two children, we struggled, because the world gives an education within itself, and good or bad, your children have to be taught “it” at some point. Schooling at home was not world-friendly, and that’s what we needed at first; a somewhat secluded, safe-learning environment for one of our children, but then, we weren’t so sure! We began questioning ourselves.

We didn’t want our kids weird to put it bluntly. We wanted them to learn normal coping mechanisms within the world, because the world would slaughter a naive one, so we must not rear that type of child, goodness no. But in the end, a writer won our decision, as the God of the world probably used her to sway us, along with the teacher who my husband went to visit at conference time, one chilly October morning, at the largest high school in our city. The teacher didn’t know our kid, and our kid was one of the brightest in the school, or so we had many pieces of paper that told us that much.

No, that was not the case, as the teacher didn’t know our child, nor that the child was smart!

“Her grades are exceptionally good, she is an honor student, and she is a scholar. You still didn’t know she was in your class?” my husband inquired. The teacher answered, not embarrassed or apologetic, “No.”

Our child was a name on a piece of paper, a blank to the five-hour a week surrogate parent. Our child was only perceived as a number, so therefore the teacher didn’t know a thing about it. And that’s what she might as well have been, an it!

If our child was an it, then our child would have been remembered! But, as the story was at that time, our child was not remembered; translation, not cared about. So, home school was looking to win out, and then I found the article where the author brilliantly explained to a negative passer-by that her child didn’t put stock in designer clothes, betraying others, making the media the god of her existence, and the list went on of how schooling at home was the perfect answer because her child became a better person for society because of it! (I wish I still had that author’s work, because it was brilliant!)

We were sold! Good-bye public school, where our kid was just an unknown number on a piece of paper -not just by the one teacher, but my a few- and hello to a life that opened up so many accepting and life-friendly opportunities!

Our kids became known, popular, gorgeous beings, just like their other home-school friends! It was a method made in heaven, and to this day, we still celebrate our choice to walk the naive road; the one that so many of our neighbors and once-upon-a-time friends said we were “mental” for doing.

All of my books I promote in this blog reflect the life, the story, the drama of the not-so-sure parents that we were. We questioned what we were doing time and time again. But, once we reared the end product, we were pleasantly blessed, and thankful!

To be continued, as I’ll explore my naive title a little more again on another day. I write all my books with a naive character at the forefront, and how she learns about life. It’s a good thought, and needs to be examined. I know this It’s a beautiful thing to witness, when you’re children turn back to it, the innocence, once again! 🙂

*In a later blog, my son will write it, and give the other side. My daughters were raised differently, one naive and sheltered, “On That Day” is based on her, (only based, as I made most of it up) while the other we raised on a public school swim team with one foot in the world, and one in a sheltered homeschool environment. Our son, however, the one that started it all for us, he was very sheltered and has much resentment on the topic. He is respectful, but he said because of our choices, he was forced to suffer embarrassment many times in college. I myself will be interested to see what he writes in contrast to me. He still lives at home, goes to college, does a Bible study everyday, so we didn’t fail completely. He is a delight to our souls, but he does have an opinion, make no mistake. He’ll speak later. *

The people you meet in a gym! The one I met today was a cussing sort of soul, but she seemed fine other than that! She spoke of God, and even looked up and acknowledged him, but in our conversation I heard many quite offending words spilling from her mouth. I listened, and wondered how I could turn her into a book. She would be interesting to grace the covers as a supporting character. Hmmmmmm…

This woman at the gym, the one who spoke of everything past and present with a coarse word here and there, said so boldly and brash, “I don’t play well with others, so I have to choose my activities wisely. I tried an exercise class, but I ended up telling ’em all to go to h*## in the end!” Yeah, she said one of those low offending cuss words in that story, and then a few more followed after that! “Those women, they had a certain spot they liked to be during class, and I thought, ‘you don’t own that freaking spot, what the heck are you doing telling me to get out of your spot! I don’t think so.” Yeah, it continued just that way, and then other things were talked about.

I had to admire the conversation and take it for what it was; not the cuss words, but the description of her distaste for the class. I like people who are a little different; the ones who let you know up front that they might bite sometime during approach, so beware! Those people, well they keep the tea brewed! They add a pitch to the monotone, and a thrill without the crime. They give gusto, and a reason to be thankful that God made “me, not that way” because I definitely don’t want to be them!

Still, I think we welcome those people due to the “tea” stays steamy and poured because those people are living in the world, and all those stories with colorful words that I myself dare wouldn’t say at the gym? I understand why there is someone out there that does say them, for it reminds me of what not to do.

She let them spill freely, those words, because there is a lesson to be learned in all that mess; God gives an abundant of personalities as gifts to this world, and I’m not saying the language was a gift, but what I got out of that language was! I liked realizing why I don’t cuss, and then the stories she told; they were good, and probably could have been better without the cuss words built in. Then I think, “Hey, I kept listening because she spoke those attention getters, and the story she told, I could tell it again to anyone verbatim!” These days, I sort of tune everyone out! Hmmmmmmm…

Life is entertaining with those personalities, as it’s like petting a pit bull. You’ll take the risk because you like dogs, but you really don’t want the constant worry of owning one. At least with this character, I knew from sentence one what to expect, and because I was willing to lend an ear, we enjoyed bubbling conversation for a good thirty minutes of monotonous treadmill time! In the end, she mused me a character for another book and I listened to her (and liked her)! The trade-off was grand, and for that, she was just another character I met at the gym! “The People You Meet at the Gym.”

“On That Day” by V. M. Jenkins sold on Amazon and Barnes and Noble

With my lack of knowledge of technical things, I seemed to have sent the book out without saving my changes of mistakes on the drive. My daughter read the mistakes and couldn’t find them. My fourteen year-old had an opinion…not!

“Did you like the book, and did you see the errors?” I interrogated. My daughter rubbed her nose, squished her face, and ran her fingers down her long smooth ponytail. Then she answered, finally!

“It’s okay, as it held my interest, but I don’t prefer romances. I think a romance girl will like it, but a science-fiction girl…nope! However, if I wanted to read a romance, I might start with yours!” And I took that as a compliment.

“What about the errors? I don’t know what happened. I corrected them, but I guess I saved it wrong. I know I saved it, just not on the right device maybe? There were some strong typos!” She shook her head.

“Didn’t notice them. You’re fine. Put the blog out and let people find it and read. Like I said, if I liked a romance I think I’d want to read that one. But seeing as how I don’t, I can only be your fan, but not your reader! Put it out there Mom, it’s time!” She left me standing there with her earphones now blaring probably, a drink in her hand, and a new syfy under her arm.

I understood that she was done; she wasn’t going to read any more of my book, and that was okay with me. It had to be! To get that much of a response out of her, well, let’s just say whale watching in Iowa might be a more substantial request. So, with that little tidbit of encouragement from my daughter, here it is; the book that can be downloaded on the ‘Kindle’ app. Just read it, and the sequel will be following soon. The second one is done, it’s ready, and it’s better! But one step at a time in That Part of Arkansas! Enjoy! V.M.Jenkins

Here I am, hoping to give something to read that will be entertaining and somewhat of a humorous look into the life of our world of homeschool! Most of my characters come from this world because as a parent, a former teacher, and a child who hated school, I absolutely love the concept of educating at home! I would have homeschooled myself, had we known of it back when I was a student in the classroom.

I would advise you to choose others of my posts to read, as this one sort of introduces the books that started it all. Even though they were fiction, absolutely made up, they also were based on happenings of my daughter who is naturally a funny soul, so she gave me a lot of good material to work with.

“On That Day” is about a girl who goes to a Bible study, coming in from the public school system, and meets a group of homeschooled teens that haven’t figured out how to socialize yet. They’re learning, and the new girl can help their efforts along, and so she does. A long the way, she meets a guy who might be her forever love, and she meets a girl who might be a forever friend. She doesn’t know yet, and that’s what the first book does; it sets up the relationships. The other books are about the teens growing and then choosing their paths.

The books remain funny, but at the same time, there is sadness, as life brings real-world problems, loves, losses, separations, and death. The world of a teen is dramatic and forever busy. The life of a college student is a high school teen’s life on steroids. It was hard to keep the later books pure, but they are, and for that, I can promote them with dignity.

I am currently reediting them and relaunching them. They’ll be better, shorter, and with new covers. But the first one, “On That Day,” can be purchased on Kindle, or ordered in paperback. Enjoy the blog, and I’ll talk about the books here, as they launch.

Read on…the other other blogs posts you might find interesting. They touch on topics that might interest you. 🙂