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, or don't have Kindle, 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.
