How a City Girl Does Country All Wrong

Chickenshit

Or:

How a City Girl Does Country All Wrong

Chickenshit

Or:

How a City Girl Does Country All Wrong

Amy Stinnett

Copyright © 2017 by Amy Stinnett

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

without the express written permission of the publisher

except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

First Printing, 2017

Paperback ISBN 978-0999256718

Library of Congress Control Number: 2017918020

Waiting Dog Press

Ontario, OR 97914

waitingdogpress.com

waitingdogpress@gmail.com

Cover by coversbykaren.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

For Red, Blue, Greenie, and Skins.

The best first pet chickens ever!

(and still alive, mind you)

        Introduction - Or What I Did Last Summer  

After my birthday this year, not a milestone or anything, but a couple of gray hairs away from one, I went on a short camping trip filled with purpose. First, I wanted to go somewhere serene-ish in nature, away from the farm and my family to decompress and let my thoughts settle. Second, I wanted to write. I was about to publish my first novel, Lookout Butte, and I wanted to do some finishing touches on it and brainstorm the second book in the series. Also, I had been mulling over another project, my close-to-the-vest insurance that the first novel was not just a fluke. Finally, I wanted to explore the nearest town - its library, cheap restaurants, and anything I found of particular interest.   Note: Justification plays a central role in my life and personal character.   This new project, by its nature, was shiny and more enticing than the project I had spent the last three years working on. It would cleanse my writer’s palette, so when I went back to the Alex and Kat saga for the second book, I would do so with the cycle of its publication and initial promotion behind me; therefore, I could concentrate solely on writing. During my two-hour drive to find my solitude, I kicked around a lot of ideas. I knew I wanted to feature the scant amount of farming skills I had picked up over the last couple of years, mostly learning what NOT to do. I knew most of my main characters, as always, would be lesbian, gay, bi-sexual, or transgender. I knew I wanted a local setting, and one that would be an amalgam of places I have lived or known intimately over the last fifteen years. And, I wanted to write from the perspective of a character younger than me, not as an attempt to regain my youth, but because my writing is still in its youth. I have a lot to process mentally and emotionally before I write about a woman with a grown son and a desperate desire to never return to the rat race.

For my retreat, I picked a place I was familiar with, easy to access, and far enough away not to tempt an early return home. Bruneau State Park near Mountain Home, Idaho fit the bill. If you have spent any significant time in the Great Basin’s history, you’ve probably heard about the great Bonneville Flood from documentaries, celebrations at state parks and dams, and historical site placards. (If not, go online or, better yet go to the modern man-made Bonneville Dam on the Columbia River). The flood was a natural event that occurred over 14,000 years ago. It carved out valleys and strange rock formations all along southern Idaho (including the area Milepost is based upon), eastern Oregon, and into eastern Washington. The sand dunes at Bruneau State Park are a regional windfall, literally, from that catastrophic event.

A couple of friendly pre-teens saw me floundering as I tried to put up my tent in the wind. It was a tent I had not used before, and I have been getting less mobile in my almost old age. They looked to their dad for approval and then ran over to help me. Together, we figured out the crisscross arrangement of poles, clips, and straps and staked it down. I set about getting my air mattress and other gear ready for the evening, and I sat down in my car for a break. I wrote in my journal for a while and ate the mushy tacos I had hauled in from town for my dinner. Not really sure of the terrain yet, I drove over to the observatory for its program. This being a solar eclipse year, public interest in Astrology was on the uptick. There was a full house at the presentation, as well as the star gazing afterward. Unfortunately, the night was cloudy, and only one star was open to a good view with the giant telescope. Like an ass, I drove back to the campsite after hours, opening and closing my car door during quiet time. I fell asleep reading Empire Falls by Richard Russo by flashlight, as the wind flapped the loose material on my tent. The dry grass crunched all around the campsite for a couple of hours but quit shortly after I fell asleep.

The next morning, I got up early, raced to the restroom, and headed into town, straight for the library. Exploring libraries has long been a hobby of mine, and I was impressed with Mountain Home’s work space. Within minutes, I was logged in as a guest and began brainstorming my new project. I started with the journal format, added the chapter/serial genre, then mapped out the main characters and my goals