I am extremely proud to announce that my fourth novel – The Woodsman – has been released! It is now available in paperback and in eBook format at Amazon.com!
For years I passed the sign that stood on the side of Highway 32, and each time it bestowed an unconscious good feeling in me. It was part of the important landscape in the Morehead, Kentucky area. Yes, it was a little boastful, but why shouldn’t it have been? No one else was standing up and pointing out the importance of this little part of Appalachia in eastern Kentucky. Each time I passed, it read the same: “Morehead, Kentucky. Hardwood Capital of the World.” The sign was constructed of the same hardwood the area was quietly famous for. Something the little mountain town could call claim to. A title of respect for the region and for the hardworking people that had made it so.
Then one day, I noticed the sign was gone. I don’t know when it happened, who took it down or where it went. Why it went. Morehead became a town stripped of a major part of its historic identity. The foundation of the area’s existence ripped away. Snuffed out. Possible burned on a bonfire. Replaced by a modern metal sign promoting Morehead as a global community by announcing its affiliation with sister cities—Ballymena, Northern Ireland and Yangshuo, China. Huh? What? I had never heard of such places, and suddenly they appear on a sign—THE sign that welcomes all to Morehead, Kentucky. The new sign’s intent was to promote a Morehead make-over. To introduce a new Morehead featuring the commercial aspects of tourism and industry.
I did my research. (Well, okay I used Wikipedia…I know! I know! But it had the most information. Seriously!)
Ballymena dates back to medieval times and was historically a market town, focused on manufacturing and retail. It was an industrial city, not a rural, quaint community that secured it economy with a variety of endeavors. About the only thing Ballymena shares in common with Morehead, is that it was “known as Northern Ireland’s equivalent of the Bible Belt.” (Thank you, Wikipedia!)
Yangshuo’s history does not seem to go further back than the 1980’s (again, according to Wikipedia) and it is touted as a rural area dependent on tourism. It is described as a popular destination for backpackers due to its landscape and the climbing opportunities. It’s claim to fame? It is a ’sister city’ to Morehead, Kentucky.
No. A sign promoting two towns in vastly different parts of the world just doesn’t do it for me. It tells me nothing about Morehead. It communicates nothing about its history or its people. It doesn’t describe its struggles nor the steadfastness of its citizens. And you cannot build a future without a foundation. I wanted the previous sign back. If nothing else, it would remind people of Morehead’s heritage. A past build on a solid foundation—as solid as the rock that held the sign and as rooted in the culture as its claim to fame: the hardwood trees.
It was out of this perspective that The Woodsman emerged. My kinship with the area rests on the many family members, friends and neighbors who have made livings and carved out careers and family traditions in the hardwood industry. They have supported and grown their families by cutting trees and selling them to log yards and sawmills like Harold White Lumber and Greentree Forest Products, just to name a couple. I, myself, had the personal experience of working at a small sawmill, an experience that taught me skills and instilled knowledge that has served me well in life. An experience I revere.
The Woodsman is a tale that has brewed within me for more than a decade. I even made several attempts at writing the story, all of which I have gladly misplaced, except for the concept. The concept for the story stayed firmly implanted in my mind. It just needed time to grow.
My goal in writing The Woodsman was to highlight our timber industry which has lost center-stage and is fading into the forest. I wanted the reader to get a glimpse into the life of a true woodsman, to have a brief stop-over in a community built on the historic trade of logging, and to not take our beautiful trees for granted. Kellianne’s story is staged in that environment, an environment that today is very much alive, providing jobs for people and providing products—products that consumers sadly no longer associate with their origins. An industry that cannot be for the trees nor the forest.
The next time you see a tree, stop for a moment and consider its roots, its age, its grandeur. Consider what it has had to weather. Also, consider its future. That tree could very possibly be a future shipping pallet, a piece of furniture or cabinet, the flooring under your feet, the paper upon which you write or read, the assembled sticks that you call home, or the staves that form the barrel that ages the uniquely Kentucky Bourbon.
Or, that tree could simply continue to be a tree.
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