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The writing of Chatterton
Place.
I was born and
raised in
the Salt Lake Valley, amongst a large extended family. I met and
married
a
wonderful man in the early seventies. Together
we have raised four children and assisted in the
rearing of ten
grandchildren. While we moved often
during the early years of our marriage, the hospitality industry has
always
offered us an open door for employment. It
is a remarkable world where you have the opportunity of
meet
different and new people daily. At
points, our children have crawled behind the front desk as we stood
there
selling another room. As they grew they discovered the value of being
hospitable. It has given them the ability to go out and met new people,
see new
places and never fear that they may not fit in.
I had dabbled at
writing my own stories since Jack, Jane, and Spot left me wanting more
information. Chatterton Place was written
during a period of time that I had chosen to stay home for my teenage
children. One night I awoke from a
dream that left me full of questions. The next night it replayed,
answering a
few of my questions. I wrote down what I had seen, but it needed a back
story
to make sense, so I made it up and wrote it down too.
For eight weeks, after the children were in
bed I would sit and hand write what I could see in my head. More often than not awaking in the morning
anxious to read what had been written. At
the end of those eight weeks, I discovered I had
finished my first
book.
If others were going
to be able to read it, I had to type it. Without
a typewriter in the house, my last option was to
learn how to
operate the very old computer. I’m sure
you won’t remember it but this computer was so old we had to hand feed
it
anything we wanted it to do. The disks
were 5 and half inches square, and only held 256 kb each.
A double sided disk held 512 kb…. Basically
nothing more than a chapter on each disk. After
that, came the proof reading; which I enlisted my
sister to help
with. So during the day we would read
and watch my first two grandchildren. Yeah,
we watched them ok …. As they tore the house apart
--- climbed on
cabinets --- and started the microwave. They
however did learn a few good things in those months.
Like the day the oldest decided to show his
Mom what he meant when he held up his right pointer finger and
announced Putter
finger. He put the load up disk in the computer and pushed start, then
removed
it – found the program disk and slipped it in -- found the drop down
menu and
clicked find file then waited for the machine to beep, before popping
the
program disk out and replacing it with the one his dot to dot puppy had
been
saved on. After finding the correct file among others he clicked ok and
popped
that disk out and replaced it with the program disk so he could push
print, run
around the small wall put paper in the printer and watch his picture
print out. I might add he was just three.
Next, came the
printed copy. As each chapter emerged,
my loving husband read it, and passed it on to an associate. All raved, but I hadn’t the slightest idea of
what to do next, so I went to night school. They taught me how to write
a
story, but I had already written a story. I took several more classes,
each
teaching me something different, soon I started doubting myself. While I continued to write with the new
knowledge I had achieved, Chatterton Place took a back seat. Then I went back to work and they all found
themselves in a storage bin, until last spring; when we were in search
of more
storage. It was the following day before
I realized we had thrown my writing bin away. My greatest fan and
loving
husband of 35 years, along with our youngest daughter, were lucky
enough to
find them at the bottom of the trash can. Of
course, we had to make sure they were alright. Once
converted into a current format, words
that had not been read in fifteen years took on a new life. My loving niece and avid reader found it and
insisted the rest of the world had a right to see them as well. Hence
the
process continues. I’ll keep you up
dated.
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