July 22, 2025 – Update! – River Fork: The Bear in the Storm

My research focused on the frequently neglected subject of childhood grief, incorporating my own experiences growing up in the 1950s and living for twenty years in a rural New Hampshire community shaped by logging, farming, and the towering presence of Mount Washington.

The research included indigenous Native Americans of the Algonquin Nation, namely the Abenaki tribe and the Pequawket band.

Later I explored the process of novel creation, encompassing manuscript writing, cover design, assembly, and publication. Even though I trembled at the enormity of this self-imposed task, luckily, friends—authors and other writers—urged me to persevere.

A story had initially brewed in my head for over two years. Then I jotted down scenes for a young audience—a children’s book with lots of graphics. I’d do my own artwork, of course.


Years ago, I had purchased Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein and read it to my son many times. My son was around 6 or 7. It was rollicking fun to read. Son, and I nearly fell off the sofa from laughing so hard. Silverstein provided great humor, timing, and storytelling. The artwork was hilarious and beautiful. I had hoped to emulate his style of writing stories for children or adults.

Well, back to my update! I decided that this novel would not suffice as a “children’s” book, for loss and grief affect not just the little ones; everyone in a family, or any relationship, is affected in different ways.

Therefore, it is not a Silverstein-style book. But it is a story I feel strongly about. Some of the scenes are based on my own experience at suddenly losing my mom when I was five.

The novel is a Young Adult, historical fantasy. The setting is 1956-1957 in a fictitious farming and logging town in the New Hampshire mountains. The theme deals with loss, grief, belief, acceptance, self-discovery, and the coming of age.

I am currently refining the manuscript and artwork I plan to incorporate for the publication of River Fork: The Bear in the Storm, the first of two novels. The sequel involves the same characters, but two years later, in 1959, which I plan to publish after River Fork: The Bear in the Storm.

Though this is a Young Adult novel, I consider it suitable for children and parents dealing with loss.

The plan is to have River Fork: The Bear in the Storm available on the Internet and at bookstores.

Please keep in touch to learn more about the River Fork series, and to purchase it when it is available.

Follow my updates!

Please tell others about it.

Contact me below to reserve your copy ahead of time, to leave comments or ask questions.

I’ll post when River Fork: The Bear in the Storm is available.

J. M. Orise

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Thawing From My Trip South Took a While!

We left Maine in January. Two months later than anticipated due to discovering a blockage in my heart, and dealing with all the craziness of that experience.

And we left a day later than planned due to an unanticipated snowfall—4 inches. Neighbor John who watches our property plowed us out! We weren’t exactly “Snowbound”—I read John Greenleaf Whittier’s poem when I was a teen. I believe 4 FEET and more is what he had in mind.

For our trip, I opted to wear cotton socks with my L.L.Bean loafers. Sure it was cold at home, but we were heading south after all. We’d be warm by dinner time!

We left early in the day in 9° F weather. It would be warm soon, we’d be in the truck until 9-10 PM, and arriving in the southern mountains, in Wilkes-Barre, PA! Warm country.

Driving at speeds of 65-70 mph, the truck’s heater could not compete with the incoming flow of cold air…(Hubby’s analysis). Late in the day, it was so cold, the heat barely warmed our feet. My feet, although jammed into the heat outlet were being cooled. Being a bit of a contortionist, I pulled one foot up to the seat to warm it, and switched to warm the other. The floor area was cold! When we swapped driver, I felt the heat move around my feet at the accelerator a tiny bit. As a passenger, Hubby’s feet got colder.

I determined something was plugging the airflow. Next time we swapped driver, I crouched down and dug into the passenger’s heater duct. I proudly displayed chewed up paper napkins and other fibers. How pervasive was this blockage? Who were the perpetrators? Mice? Squirrels?

I engaged the heater’s air blower to the max. Tissue paper and bits of filter netting, a part of the dash construction to filter dust and debris that might be lodged in the heater passageway to the dash and window air ducts, flew at Hubby and me. Chunks of paper snow! I pulled more and more fragments from the dash’s vent grillwork with tweezers I had packed in the back seat of the truck.

We got more heat!

We arrived to 11° degrees Farenheit in Wilkes-Barre! Warmer socks and shoes were packed and inaccessible in the bed of our truck. With feet nearly frozen we hustled to our room and cranked the thermostat to 73°.

This intense cold lasted for two days. Even with vents cleaned out, we barely got warm. On the third day, in southern North Carolina, it was warmer…in the 30s. I finally dug out my thick cotton socks and a second sweater.

We arrived at our Florida destination late that night, but it was too cold to spend a whole lot of time unpacking in the dark with a flashlight. However, I brought in all that should not be left out in the cold…well, it had been left out for a couple of days and nights… but how cruel can you be to your stuff? My stuff? I like my stuff.

The cold lasted for a few days after we arrived…in the 30s and 40s. Nearly a week later, we have 60° and low 70° weather.

Discomfort is soon forgotten when things get better.

Things are better.

Hope all is well with you all. Leave a comment below. Love to hear from you.

Oh, and keep warm, too.

Writing Update: I need more time.

And two funerals in one season are two funerals too many.

I think of mortality…my mortality.

As if I have time to do that.

I feel out of control. But we are never in control. Of time. Our time.

I had the time of my life. Why do they say that?

Are they having fun, or are they now without time?

We do the best we can: eat, sleep, move, think, talk, laugh, cry, smell the flowers, pat our pet, feed the hungry, shelter the homeless, create, tune out disinformation, learn how to research information, read any book we choose, pray, sing, decided what we want to do with our body— save Democracy.

Will Time come to me and say, “Do you know what today is? What time it is?”

I’ll say, “It’s not my time.

I’m busy doing stuff.

I need more time.

Will you leave me alone so I can do all this stuff?”

Stuff never ends.

Hm-m. I may be on to something here.

Only Time will tell.

I’m Back With Friends Again.

Here I am at the Citrus Writers of Florida meeting, in Citrus Springs.
My heart fills with joy. But I can’t fill a form without making errors I have to scribble out—street address, phone number, what software do I use for this and that. I scan my cell phone for answers I know I mentioned in past FB posts. I’m not functioning properly. I am too excited.


SO I THOUGHT.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

But THAT excited?

I met some of the people I longed to see for the last two years. This was a Citrus Writers of Florida monthly meeting I had just learned about from an author friend. I didn’t think I’d be able to attend for Hubby had appointments out of town. Medical checkups, etc..

We left very early. Hubby didn’t believe it was a twenty-nine minute drive. More like an hour drive, he argued. I had started breakfast, he went to the car and waited for me to appear! He dialed my cell phone. “Are you coming?”

Okay. Nix the breakfast, brush your teeth, see if you are presentable, grab a book, pour coffee in a portable cup, grab a bottle of water, jab a banana and two apples in the purse and off we go. I quickly ate the banana and drank the coffee. (I need to eat in the morning and this would have to do.)

The appointments went well. We cancelled a scheduled scan Doc said was no longer necessary. And another appointment we planned to schedule was already scheduled for next month. So that was easy.

Because of our twenty-nine minute drive, we were early. The nurse immediately called us for our appointment, and said, “Glad you came early. I’ll take you now.” On our way home, I realized now I had time to attend the 11:00 a.m. to 1:00 p.m. meeting in Crystal River! Hubby obliged and drove me to the meeting and I had 4 minutes to spare. He planned to read and snooze in the car.

Like I said, it was a wonderful meeting. I plan to sign up as a member.

Returning home, I ate my apple and looked forward to more food. I was starved. After our late lunch, I had a revelation. My sugar level was low. I usually experience signals when it gets low. This time, I was so happy to be somewhere, it just didn’t register.

I have Hypoglycemia. I manage it with protein, and especially with breakfast. I was running on empty and filled my tank with a high glycemic banana, and a black coffee, which acts like sugar. That’s when my system registers too much sugar here, and begins to rid itself of the sudden stockpile. But there are times when it doesn’t turn off when it should and I get giddy, forgetful, confused and sometimes sick to my stomach.

Ergo: my difficulty in filling in a form and remembering simple things and people’s names at the meeting, and trying to remember who had notified me of the event.

I first experienced these symptoms many years ago. I had to convince my doctor that I had low blood sugar. He didn’t believe me until one day, during an appointment, I turned very pale and sick to my stomach. I said, “I need milk. Now.” His nurse sacrificed her lunch milk. I recovered immediately. Doc gave me a home finger test and chart. “Do a finger blood test first thing in the morning. Write the results here,” he pointed to the chart. “And write anything/comments here. Come back in a week.”

In the mornings, I leaned against the kitchen counter and “chased” my finger with a little spring loaded tiny blade gun (I hate cutting and needles). The right hand had a job to do. The left hand wanted to live up to its name, “left” which is past tense of “leave.”

I smeared the blood on paper strips and filled in the numbers on the form. At times, I couldn’t spell simple words. Once I struggled with the word “with.” I gave up on the third try. I won French spelling competitions in grammar school and I was also a great English speller.

I left the misspelling and scribbles for Doc to see. He said, in his ten years of medicine, no one had ever diagnosed themselves with the condition. He agreed. I had Low Blood Sugar.

His advice: monitor and control the condition with nutrition as I had been. It was better than drugs.

So I eat breakfast every morning. And it is under control.

I hope the form I filled doesn’t alarm the group. I was tired, hungry, listening, researching, writing…all at the same time. Talk about stressors. Stressors alone can make one’s sugar act weird.

But I was happy! And still am.

I can’t wait to attend the next meeting.

Thinking of My Sister

Two days ago, my sister went to heaven and left a trail of snow and wind. A blizzard of sparkling diamonds for us to remember her. From now on, whenever I witness a blizzard, I will look up and say, “Hi, Lucille. Glad you decided to visit.”

Unlike her, I was nicknamed by my aunts and uncles. Lucille chose her own. Lucy was it.

Looking up at the sky I think of how she died and the blizzard that started immediately afterward. And the Beatles song, Lucy In the Sky With Diamonds, filled my brain. So, I’d like to guide you to a Beatles Lucy video link on Youtube I found appealing.

The song was written by John Lennon after his young son brought him a drawing he had just completed. When John asked what it was, his son said, “It’s Lucy in the sky with diamonds.” John thougth that would be a great title for a song. So he wrote Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds.

I also found a Led Zeplen’s song, Stairway to Heaven, on Youtube, which I find appropriate for my sister as well. One of her many talents was her mastery of the piano, the guitar, the ukulele, and the flute. She was part of a band and loved to sing.

Listen to the lyrics and remember Lucy, my sister, up there, listening and watching with you. Because, you know… she’s still here in another dimension where our family and friends who also left us in a stream of weather patterns we either were, or were not aware of when they died.

Enjoy, Sis.

Love ya.

Please leave a comment. Thanks.

A Sequel Added to the Process

I was told, years ago, that it was a good thing to have a sequel…not a guarantee, but a help.

It took many, many years to write my first Manuscript. I just wrote, struggling to get it right. I managed to obtain several critiques from talented, published authors. Later I sought and got more than one beta reader’s input.

Learning HOW to write is very hard work. Although I had lots to learn, I found it to be lots of fun. I still enjoy learning how to write fiction.

While years passed before I finished the first story I believed in, a sequel was nagging at me. Therefore, once the first MS was completed, I pulled out the few pages I had started for the sequel. Fitting it in my crazy, busy life, I started writing it last summer. Presently, I am working on the climax of this second manuscript.

I hope to publish both manuscripts at some point. But that is the rub…HOW and where to publish. I hope to Indie publish with help from a team of professionals who will guide me.

My goal: To tell a story important to me and share my views with the MG reader and a sequel (which is two years later with the same characters) with the YA reader in story form. A story of life, love, loss and freedom—coming of age. 🙂

Anyone willing to provide suggestions on how find a good editor for proofreading a 50,000 word YA novel and suggest how to publish will be much appreciated.

Also, how do authors promote their presence and their work?

Social media boggles my mind. My platforms are FB, Twitter, and WordPress. I have blogged for several years, talking about me and often comment on my writing journey…I get a lot of “hits,” a fair amount of likes, but very few responses.

Speaking of Interuptions…

I’m managing Hubby’s care. He underwent surgery a few days ago. Due to Covid restrictions, I wasn’t allowed inside the hospital.
We have a slew of doctor appointments coming up and wouldn’t you know, thinking I had it “all together,” I planned a sneak appointment for me, in between errands, to get a professional hair trim, and still show up in time for Hubby’s release from the hospital.

So, I went to the grocery, hurried home to put food away, then had a quick lunch/snack. As I was getting ready to head out, something hard as rock presented itself in my mouth.

What?

In a split second I realized what had happened. I was right. And my plans abruptly changed.

A bridge composed of two connected crowns detached from my teeth. The crown covered two teeth. The first two after my canine and a third tooth was a cantileverd molar. The two teeth were in perfect conditionm but were sacrificed to support a bridge and ultimately a sculpted molar. A “floating” molar replaced a molar which had been incorrectly removed from my right upper jaw years ealier by another dentist. (After removal, he said it was a perfectly strong tooth. He had attempted to relieve me of a pain in my jaw and temple. The pain returned after the extraction. Over time, it went away….and I was missing a tooth. Not a happy experience.)

Cantilevered bridge sample

This complicated bridge was installed forty-seven years ago. 47! I was told it could last thirty years—if I was lucky. At that young age, thirty years seemed an eternity. So I agreed to have it done.

The set is polished, and still new looking. I am hopeful a dentist of great talent will re-install the set, even though the first tooth I had sacrificed to make this crown possible had now broken off at the gumline. The second tooth, which was reshaped to accept the crown as well, is still in position. So there will be some serious pain in drilling and poking, I’m sure. Perhaps the last canterlevered molar can be cut off the set, then a tooth implant can be installed in its place, thus giving me a sturdier bite. This idea for the last molar is based on now learning that a cantilevered crown is not a very good setup…it would have ultimately failed over time. Well the time is now and it is a very inconvenient interruption.

Is there ever a good time for interruptions?

However, there is some good news. Hubby is home and slowly getting better. We will be walking within a week or two in our favorite woods path. Our daily habit. That is not an interruption. That is a planned event. I’ll make an appointment to have my hair trimmed some day soon—I hope.

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My Characters Are Working Hard…Me Too.

Oh, I’m still around.

Life’s chocolate box is interesting and challenging at times.

Yes, I’m still working on my second manuscript.

Very near the end and have hit a writer’s block…or is it a cement wall…a wall…a void…a whatchamacallit. Whatever it is, I’ve hit it.

Crow bar…aka wrecking bar.

I need to finish this manuscript.

I will. I will.

There is a wrecking bar down in the basement. That might do the trick. Yeah…sit and meditate on a wrecking bar.

Or is it a crow bar? No matter, they both can wreck a wall in no time.

Have used a wrecking bar before…or was it a crow bar. No matter, I do have carpentry skills…built my first home, Post and Beam. Mostly alone…took 4 years.

Then I married and built two more homes with Hubby. We added to each property a separate 4-bay, 2-story garage.

I should have been writing instead.

Wait. I WAS writing – actually trying to fit it in whenever I had a few minutes or hours. Not enough for me to be happy about the little time devoted to the craft of writing.

Life goes by quickly, don’t you know…with lots of distractions…intrusions…etc..

With writer’s block, it is sometimes advised to read a book…focussing on other than your usual choice of genre. So, I picked up a Sci-Fi novel…not my usual interest. It’s interesting so far.

Meanwhile, my characters will have to be patient. I’ll be back and let them know what gives. That’ll be interesting.

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River Fork, sequel. Nearly There!

Yes, yes. YES!angelica_kauffmann_003-josmuse

You see me with my laptop and muse at the right. Right?

I’ve been working on the to sequel to River Fork.

The characters (my kids) from River Fork learned about love, loss, faith, acceptance, and life in my first manuscript. These same kids have grown up. It is two years later. Everything should be fine. Right?

Not.

Life is tough. Tougher for some than others. Especilly in 1959. Especially when you don’t know where Mom is. Especially when you are in love and your love interest is not accepted by society and you don’t understand why there is a problem? You are from the northern states and don’t understand people from the southern states? Where you live shouldn’t matter. People are people.

My kids are dealing with love, hope, faith, coming of age, social issues, and freedom. All overshadowed by a quest to find Mom and a dad no one knew existed  until now…because life is tough.

I listen to my characters, protect them, and offer my advice. Will they listen? Will they return home safe and sound? Will they be happy? Nobody knows that at the moment.

Though I am the writer, I can’t make promises. Life is tough at times.

Your comments are appreciated.

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Are you a Beta Reader? Want to swap?

Hello fellow writers, authors, publishers, readers,

I’ll swap with Beta Readers for my YA historical, paranormal manuscript. Approx 53,000 words. Want an honest critique. I’ll do the same for you.

Theme: loss, guilt, frustration, anger, love, acceptance, hope and coming of age.
The setting: 1957, New Hampshire, fictional farming town on the Saco River, cradled in the White Mountains.
Tim will be 13 in 4 days. His two friends are 15 and 14. Each has experienced loss.
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Synopsis:
Tim’s refusal to accompany Dad cost him his dad.

His dad had spoken of the bear with magical powers. But Tim hadn’t asked enough questions. Where and how could he find this creature? He and and his friend, Charlie, go on a quest to the Saco River, searching for the bear. Tim hoped it would bring Dad back. But an unexpected storm unfolds.

The boys are trapped in a cave with little food. How can they find the bear if they are trapped? Tim has to convince his friend to believe in the bear, that it will rescue them like it had rescued his dad years before. But did Tim truly believe?

Tim’s roller-coaster emotions confuse him. Is he angry at Dad for leaving? He doesn’t think so. But then—

Please leave a comment, share and like if you truly like.

Helpful critiques are always welcome.

Thanks for reading.