Mona Mehas

My goal is to have my novel, UNDER THE BUBBLE, ready to query in 2023. Okay, honestly, my goal is to get an agent in 2023, but realistically, I need to get it done and query first. I ran into a snag a week or so ago. I was sick for a few days and couldn't write a thing. When I returned to the book, I realized how lost I'd been before. Had I left anything out? Were events out of order? Had I repeated myself? The answer to these and other questions was a resounding "yes." I didn't have to read through the thing to know; I felt it in my bones. I knew it before getting sick, but I was stumbling along in the dark.

I decided to let Microsoft Word read what I had so far so I could take notes. I am so glad I'm doing that! Since I don't outline anything, at least I haven't so far, this experience has been extremely helpful. When I got sick, I was about halfway done with the rewrite, changing from first person to third and dual to single point of view. Now I'm close to finished with the read-through and note-taking. I believe I'll have a much easier time rewriting the rest of the manuscript. When finished, I'll listen to the second half, then listen and edit the entire thing.

It takes a long time to write a book. I've heard some authors on podcasts say it took them ten years to write their first published book. I've written two others, but they are "in the drawer." One is the sequel to UNDER THE BUBBLE. Since I hope to be traditionally published, the sequel will never see the light of day unless book one is successful.

I have a cover I hope might be used for this novel showing an empty field of tall grass. Wish me luck.

Fantasy Band
Updated: Sep 19, 2022

 
I grew up listening to music and singing with my mother, sister, and cousin. My mom played guitar, and sang lead, while the rest of us chimed in wherever we could with harmonies. All my life, I have followed my favorite musicians by seeing them in person whenever possible, and buying their CDs. I know it's trendy now to download music, but I still prefer to have an actual CD in my hand. I used to have albums, but I moved around too often; they were too cumbersome. Besides, after my last divorce, I didn't have a turntable and speakers that worked worth a damn.

 
I was saddened to read of the death of the novelist Larry McMurtry. I admit, I was not a fan of his novels. I am, however, a fan of his son, James McMurtry's, music. When my last husband, Bill, and I met in early 1990, he had just seen his first performance of a young James McMurtry. When Bill came to my apartment for the first time, he brought the first album that James had recorded, in 1989, Too Long in the Wasteland. I quickly became a huge fan, and still am. Over the ensuing years, Bill and I attended every concert we could, with the last one in late 2019. Bill passed away in June 2020 from a rare form of cancer. He and I had been divorced since 2010, but that didn't matter. We were still friends. I took him to that concert, knowing that it would probably be the last time for him to see James.

What I didn't know was that it would be the last time that I would see James for a long time, because of the COVID lockdown. Since we have all been hunkering, James has been performing live on his Facebook page, twice a week. I've also become a fan of his son, Larry McMurtry's grandson, Curtis McMurtry, during this time. His music is quite different from James'. More dark and prophetic, and strong on the banjo, he and his girlfriend, Diana Burgess, often perform on Curtis' Facebook page, as well.

 
When I read about Larry 's death I thought again, about my own mortality. I'm no spring chicken. I grew up listening to Johnny Cash, George Jones, and The Carter Family. But I also love Led Zeppelin, Queen, The Doors, and the Stones. I guess you could say my taste is eclectic. I also remembered all the greats that we lost in the music world this past year, like John Prine, and Charley Pride.

 
A while back, I put together a fantasy band. Some members of my fantasy band are no longer alive, but, hey, it's my fantasy band! They can all sing, so I have listed only the instruments that they play, or that I believe they play best.

 

The list is, by no means, exhaustive.

 
 
(In no particular order:)

 
Jon Bonham- drums

 
Danny Carey- drums

 
John Paul Jones- bass

 
Diana Burgess- cello

 
James McMurtry- guitar

 
Freddie Mercury- piano

 
Leon Russell- piano

 
Steve Earle- mandolin

 
Rhiannon Giddens- fiddle & banjo

 
Amythyst Kiah- guitar & banjo

 
Jimmy Hall- saxophone & harmonica

 
Slats Klug- keyboards & accordion

 
Sonny Terry- harmonica

 
Taj Mahal- harmonica, banjo, & guitar

 
My friend Joe- guitar

 
Maybelle Carter-autoharp & guitar

 
Common- Rap artist

 
If, like I, you are a music lover, try putting together your own fantasy band. Also, please check out members of mine. Except, sorry, you won't

find anything about my friend, Joe.
 
 

The Encounter

 
I am on my way to my sister's house, just rounding the curve. I must have taken a wrong turn. I've never been on this road before. I am already running late. I can hear Sheila yelling at me now, but that nagging thought of being lost won't leave me alone. The clock on my dash verifies that I am indeed an hour overdue. My sister has bullied me all my life. How is it that she's doing the same thing now, and she's not even in my car?

 
I had been in an extremely important meeting with a client when the call came through. My assistant Billy interrupted us, saying I had an urgent call. I was furious, but then I saw the look on his face. I knew it was my mother. She had been ill for several months. I hadn't been to see her often enough, and now - I'd politely apologized to the client, and left the office. I didn't even go home first to change my clothes.

 
So here I am, in my 2018 Toyota Corolla, lost on some country road, at midnight. Great. I should have gone home to change my shoes at least. My feet are killing me. There's a stop sign ahead, but there's no one around, I'll just blow through it.

 
WHAT WAS THAT!? It was huge! Those eyes! Did I hit it? I have to pull over and see.

 

I can't believe this. I am sitting on the side of an empty road, with no person, no other cars but mine in sight. All I see is a beautiful Barn Owl. Before I stopped, I was so afraid I had hurt it, but it looks fine. I'm sitting in the front passenger seat of my car, with the door open. The owl is maybe ten feet in front of me, staring at me. It appears to be about a foot tall. I don't know how long the bird will sit here with me, honoring me with its presence, but I will stay as long as it will. The peace is washing over me, and through me.

 
I am afraid to move. I'm afraid I'll spook it, and it will fly away. On second thought, I want to see it fly, to make sure it can. What if I really did hit it? What if it just appears alright? Sheila is never going to believe this; I'll take a picture.
 
Damn! Reaching for my phone scared it and it flew away! At least I know it will be fine. At least I hope it will be fine. It will be fine. I was able to snap a photo in flight. One day, I will doubt myself. I'll believe this was a dream but having this picture will be proof.

 
Back in my car, I'm still feeling that peace from the Barn Owl. Did my mother send the bird as a gift? She always loved owls. She worried that I didn't take enough time to enjoy nature, like I did when I was younger. I hadn't thought about that in years.

 
At Sheila's place now. I didn't know there would be so many people here. Of course, the driveway is overflowing. I'll park on the street. There is only one light on in the house. No doubt, everyone is asleep except for Sheila, my loving, nagging sister, waiting up to lecture me about being on time. I'm not worried. I carry the peace of the Barn Owl with me.

 
What's that I see? A bird in flight? Yes! Just barely within my range of vision, pale, broad wings against the night sky, now hidden in the trees. Then, there's a hiss-like sound, something I've never heard before.

 
"Good night, Owl."

 
I open the door and enter my sister's house.

 

(First appeared in Vocal media as an entry to a contest.)