HIBBS : MISS OLIVIA, I'LL BE THERE, BUT FIRST I HAVE TO SEE HARRY POTTER

Hibbs, the cub with no clue -- and no breath, here!

Huff. Pant. Gasp. All this running is wearing me out!

Miss Olivia, I'll be there. Don't you worry! http://thatrebelwithablog.blogspot.com/

But first, I want to read Mr. Roland's entry into Mr. Michael's HARRY POTTER BEST MATE blogfest : http://writing-art-and-design.blogspot.com/2011/03/harry-potter-blogfest-who-would-be-your.html

{From the journal of Captain Samuel McCord} :

I walked through the mirror into Dumbledore's office. The scent to the air was of cherry blossoms. I smiled bitterly. It was the perfume of my wife, Meilori. He was trying to make me feel welcome and only managing to make me feel more alone.

Poor Albus. He was so wise in so many things ...

just not in matters of the heart.

Which explained his being fooled by Gellert Grindelwald.

I made my way through the maze of spindly tables upon which sat delicate looking silver instruments that whirred and emitted small puffs of smoke, as well as an incredible collection of books, which made up Dumbledore's private library, and his ill-advised Pensieve.

Fawkes the phoenix chirped my way. I winked back. The Sorting Hat chuckled. I grinned back.

Albus smiled as if it hurt him. "Come sit down, Samuel."

He was tall, thin and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, and a purple cloak.

His nose was very long and crooked. Being broken will do that to a nose. The first break came from Gellert's fist. The second came from mine in the fight that broke out when I told him the truth about Gellert.

He forgave me. Friends do that. Even to friends who speak painful truths.

As I sat down at his round desk, I pointed to his withered right hand. "Voldemort?"

He shook his head. "I myself have opened the door to the next great adventure I'm afraid."

I started to reach for his gnarled right hand. "Maybe I can ...."

A voice with all the warmth of a slap said to my left, "Do what the world's mightiest wizard could not do? Hardly!"

I turned. Serverus Snape. He gloomed a room just by entering it.

I smiled crooked. "Still wearing the cast-off's from THE ADAMS FAMILY movie I see. Angelica Huston looked better in that dress."

His right eyebrow arched so high that I was surprised it didn't cut his forehead. "How droll. Low humor from a muggle. How unsurprising."

I wagged a gloved forefinger at him. "You know you like me."

Snape looked as if he smelled his own upper lip. "Me? A friend to a muggle?"

Albus' blue eyes twinkled. "You will note that he did not deny it."

He pointed to the empty seat at the other side of the table. "Come, Serverus. Samuel promised to teach us that colorfully named game. Ah, what was it now?"

The blood of the Angel of Death burned cold in my veins as it murmured I would never see either one of them alive again. I managed a smile.

"Texas Hold 'Em."

Snape sniffed the air touched with the kiss of cherry blossoms and looked at me with haunted eyes.

"You still love her though she deserted you? After all this time?"

I nodded, and though we both saw different faces, we both said the same word,

"Always."

Albus' eyes grew wet as he looked at the two of us. "I, as well."

And so three friends drawn together by broken hearts and lost love dealt meaningless cards to one another into the dregs of the hollow night.

***

HIBBS : HOLD ON, MR. ELLIOT! DON'T START WITHOUT ME!

Hibbs, the cub with no clue, here!

Pant. Pant.

Hold on, Mr. Elliot!

I'm coming just as fast as my paws will carry me. Don't start without me!

Where's Little Brother when you need him?

Oh, well, follow me to Mr. Elliot's place. It's gonna be such fun. He's got really great questions. : ***http://elliot-grace.blogspot.com/2011/03/chat-with-hibbs.html
***

HIBBS : WENDY TYLER RYAN & CANADA! HERE I COME!

Hibbs, the cub with no clue, here.

I am on the run for Canada. I want to see Wendy in person.

You writers live in such a weird world : I mean how strange is the world of words when skating on thin ice can land you in hot water?

Or it may not be you can live on words alone,

especially when sometimes you have to eat them!

You know, traveling as I have with Mr. Roland lately,(especially after being rejected by ABNA),

I think you humans developed language because of your deep need to complain!

Now, come with me to Canada and Miss Wendy.

I hope I see one of those Royal Canadian Mounties so I can swipe one of their hats! http://waitingforpublication.blogspot.com/
***

HIBBS : COME TO JO'S PARTY! AND RESCUE ME!!

Hibbs, the cub with no clue, and I walk out of Jo's rocking party

and out onto her lush backyard.

"Whew!," gushes Hibb.

"That is some party, Mr. Roland. Who was the Ostrich Lady,

wearing that dress of honey combs, who kept dancing with me?"

"Oh, that was Lady Gaga. You're lucky, Hibbs. Once she wore a dress of meat."

"What? Oh, Eeeyoo!"

His eyes light up. "Ah, do you know where she put that dress?"

I raise my eyebrow, and Hibbs says, "Don't look at me that way. Meat shouldn't go to waste."

He sits down on the grass with a thump beside me.

"At least that mother and daughter came to my resuce ... sort of."

"You mean Madonna and her daughter, Lourdes?"

"Yes, them. What was that weird dance that Madonna woman kept dancing with me?"

"It's called a tango, Hibbs."

"Well, it sure tangled my spine, that's for sure! Ah, speaking of spines,

her daughter looked like her spine was all rubber while she danced with me. Is that the tango, too?"

I ruffle the hair atop his small head. "No, Hibbs, that's called the Dip."

Hibbs shruggs his shoulder.

"At least that band, THE WANDERING PEPPLES, played so loud I didn't have to talk much."

"You mean THE ROLLING STONES, Hibbs."

He nods his head. "Yeah, them."

"Oh, there, you are, you little sneak!," comes a strident voice behind us.

Hibbs pops to his feet, holding out his paw. "Who's that, Mr. Roland?"

"Taylor Swift."

Taylor rushes toward Hibbs, who thrusts out his open paw even more.

"Now, you keep those spindly little legs right where they are, Miss Taylor. I'm all pooped out."

Taylor giggles. "Oh, you cute thing, you."

She wraps an arm around a squirming Hibbs, dragging him back into Jo's party.

Taylor giggles, "I dated a werewolf, but I've never danced with a bear."

Hibbs lolls his head over his shoulder, imploring me with begging eyes.

"Mr. Roland, help! Mr. Roland!!"

I chuckle back at him. "Face it, Hibbs. You just have animal magnetism!"

"Mr. Roland, that is SO not funny!"

Ah, everyone, come help me rescue Hibbs at Jo's party :

http://jostorm.blogspot.com/
***

My melded entry for PURPLE PROSE and THE NATURE OF MAGIC blogfests will be a day late, coming to you Saturday.
***

HIBBS : ONCE I HAD FEET_COME WITH ME TO JO SCHAFFER'S!

Hibbs, the cub with no clue and no feet, here.

Look at my poor feet. They're worn down to nubs.

Ouch! Even coming through a shortcut through DreamTime, going from Fiji to California was sure no fun!

But pretty Miss Jo was worth the trip. Come listen to Jo and Roland talk about neat stuff :

http://jostorm.blogspot.com/2011/03/interview-with-author-roland-yeomans.html
***

HIBBS: TO FLY BY THUNDERBIRD TO FIJI AND NAS DEAN

"Hey, Little Brother! I'm freezing up here! I can't breathe and there's ice on my face fur!"

"Wakin'yan am I! From horizon to horizon is my wingspan. High is how I fly."

"Well, I'm Hibbs, the cub with no clue, not some icicle. Get me down!!"

"No fun you are."

"Ooooh, this is much better. Drop me on that beach. Ummmph! Hey, not so fast. How will I get back you flying off like this? Oh, well, I'll worry about that tomorrow.

Oh, my, look at the pretty flower. Hey, guys, Nas has already started! Time for you to vist Miss Nas and Roland here :

http://nas-dean.blogspot.com/

HIBBS & ME TO J.C. MARTIN, THE FIGHTER/WRITER

Hibbs, the cub with no clue, is happily ambling next to me.

"Miss Summer was nice. Where to next, Mr. Roland?"

"To J.C. Martin."

"Where does she live?"

"It's a secret. See? We're already there."

Hibbs suddenly flashes a huge alligator smile so phony

politicians everywhere will be hounding him for his secret.

"Hi, Miss J.C. ! See me wave? Me and Mr. Roland, we're totally harmless!"

I hiss a whisper. "What are you doing, Hibbs?"

He looks up at me shocked. "Don't you even know your own species, Mr. Roland?

With beautiful female humans you have to show them you mean them no harm."

Hibbs leans in close.

"And this one knows Wing Chun. You know the stuff Bruce Lee taught. I am one bear cub that wants to keep his internal organs internal!"

He nudges me. "See how less tense she looks?"

"Ah, she looks more, not less, tense to me, Hibbs."

"I'll fix that. You just watch."

Hibbs rushes J.C. , his arms outstretched. "How about a nice big bear hug!"

J.C. is a fluid blurr. Hibbs' furry little body flies through the air in a flailing
arc.

"Whoooooooa!!"

He lands and tumbles in a flurry of arms and legs. His big head pops up from the brush.

Snorting leaves and blades of grass from his lips and cheeks, Hibbs wrinkles his long nose.

"Not big into bear hugs, huh?"

He turns to the cyber-void and chuckles,

"Hey, guys, I've paved the way. J.C. is all untense and everything. Head on over."

http://jc-martin.com/fighterwriter/


"Oh, Mr. Roland? Who are we seeing tomorrow?"

"Nas Dean. She lives in Naid,Fiji, by the way."

"F-Fiji? FIJI!! Mr. Roland!!"***

HIBBS: BUT I DON'T HAVE FAERIE WINGS!_ OFF TO SUMMER ROSS' WE GO.

Hibbs, the cub with no clue, here again.

Wy-Wyoming?

Summer Ross lives in WYOMING?!

That's over 800 miles as Little Brother flies!

Sigh. Mr. Roland, do I get any of the royalties?

Mr. Roland!

Oh, well, come follow me to Wy-Wyoming :

http://summersvoice.blogspot.com/
***
Congratulations to Hart and Elena for making it to ABNA's semi-finals!!

"HOW DO YOU WRITE A CLASSIC?," HIBBS ASKED ME

Hibbs, the cub with no clue, here.

I'm all done in, guys. I can't even lift my head.

I have just enough strength to give you the schedule for next week 's Book Blog Tour for THE BEAR WITH TWO SHADOWS --

that's me when I grow up :

Monday (21st) -- Donna Hole - DONNA HOLE

Tuesday (22nd) -- Summer Ross - MY INNER FAIRY

Wednesday (23rd) -- J. C. Martin - FIGHTER, WRITER

Thursday (24th) -- Nas Dean - ROMANCE FROM THE PARADISE IN THE PACIFIC

Friday (25th) -- Jo Schaffer Part I - SHOVELING IN A JO STORM

Saturday (26th) -- Jo Schaffer Part II - SHOVELING IN A JO STORM

Now, guys, I am going to sleep for a century or so. YAWN. Maybe more.



Little Hibbs asked me a moment ago, "How do you write a classic, Mr. Roland."

That's a question you would like to know, too.

Sure you do. Deep down we all do.

But how to pull off that miracle?

Like the photo to today's post suggests ... by giving the reader what he wants to read.

And that's what has readers come back to read our novel a second ... even a third time.

It's what has them rush to their friends, talking about the book that they just have to read.

Word of mouth gives birth to bestsellers that become modern day classics ... to movies being made of said novels ... maybe your book.

Word of mouth.

That phrase leads us to one of the three things will ensure your book is worthy of coming back for seconds,

thus becoming a classic -- (Sorry, I ran out of space -- I only got to one of the three.) :

1) Dialogue that sparkles.

Take the sixties Western, THE PROFESSIONALS :

Burt Lancaster. Lee Marvin. Robert Ryan. Ralph Bellamy. Jack Palance. Woody Strode.

Each actor at the apex of their careers. How did the director draw in so many large stars at the time of one-star vechiles?

The studio couldn't afford that much in salaries.

Dialogue.

Each actor was given lines that didn't just say something but words that MEANT something. Words that didn't just move the plot along but spoke to something primal within the hearts of the audience.

Such as :

Bill Dolworth (Burt Lancaster) : Rico, buddy. I don't deserve you.

Rico (Lee Marvin): I agree. I can understand you getting in a crap game and losing $700 you didn't have, but how'd you lose your pants?

Bill Dolworth: In a ladies bedroom, trying to raise the cash. Almost had it made, too. Do you realize that people are the only animals that make love face to face?

***

Bill Dolworth (Burt Lancaster) : Maybe there's only one revolution, since the beginning, the good guys against the bad guys. Question is, who are the good guys?

***

Rico: So what else is on your mind besides hundred-proof women, 'n' ninety-proof whiskey, 'n' fourteen-carat gold?

Bill Dolworth: Amigo, you just wrote my epitaph!

***

Jake Sharp (Woody Strode) : Mr. D, whatever got a loving man like you in the dynamite business?

Bill Dolworth: Well, I'll tell you. I was born with a powerful passion to create. I can't write, can't paint, can't make up a song...

Hans Ehrengard (Robert Ryan) : So you explode things.

Bill Dolworth: Well that's how the world was born. Biggest damn explosion you ever saw.

***

Jesus Raza (Jack Palance) : La RevoluciÛn is like a great love affair. In the beginning, she is a goddess. A holy cause. But...

every love affair has a terrible enemy: time. We see her as she is. La RevoluciÛn is not a goddess but a whore.

She was never pure, never saintly, never perfect. And we run away, find another lover, another cause. Quick, sordid affairs. Lust, but no love. Passion, but no compassion.

Without love, without a cause, we are... *nothing*! We stay because we believe. We leave because we are disillusioned. We come back because we are lost. We die because we are committed.

***

[last lines]
J.W. Grant (Ralph Bellamy) : You bastard.

Rico: Yes, Sir. In my case an accident of birth. But you, Sir, you're a self-made man.

***

On the surface THE PROFESSIONALS was just an adventure tale, plain and simple.

But your novel to become a classic cannot be plain and simple.

It must have depth. Your dialogue must do more than say something -- it must MEAN something.

As THE PROFESSIONALS had depth. Beneath the adventure was an examination of what it means to be a professional in all you did, what it took for mature, intelligent men to fight for love or for a cause when ultimately all loves, all causes, betray you.

Each character had a different surface answer. But their base-rock answer was the same : you lived in such a way as to not betray yourself -- you fought because of the people you battled alongside and for.

And that leads back to us :

as authors we write for ourselves and for those who read our words -- not to betray ourselves or the readers who paid cash money for tale. In the end, we want what all authors want :

to tell a story that sings a song of the soul, that murmurs "You are not alone."
***

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