An Official Dana Stabenow Email No Images? Click here The Roadhouse Report
We broke ground on Storyknife on May 4....this time next year, there will be a house here at Storyknife, Eva’s House, and six cabins, Carol, Betty, Diana, Evangeline, Katie, and a sixth cabin still to be named. Inside each of those cabins will be a writer. She will spend all day working at her novel, her short story, her play, her poem. At the end of every day, she will join her fellow residents at Eva’s House for dinner, to talk writer shop, to tell publishing war stories, and to make friends for life. When she leaves, she will have learned beyond any question that her voice has value and that her work is worthy of respect and support.
What About the Books?Well, since you whined...here's an excerpt from Kate22, coming to a bookstore near you on November 9, 2019. 1 “Need a refill?” “Well, sure. But who’s going to go get it?” A good question. The wind was howling, the snow was swirling, and on New Year’s Eve it was already as dark as it got in Alaska to begin with. Which made cuddling with your honey in the pool closest to the cabin at Canyon Hot Springs all the more, well, delicious, Matt Grosdidier thought. There was just something about being outside in a blizzard in midwinter and not being lost or cold. And not in the process of responding to a scene of medical mayhem in the middle of one. That work was left to his three brothers this evening, as he had won the coin toss. It didn’t hurt that he was the only one of them with a steady girlfriend, especially in the woman-poor Park, and was the subject of their steadily increasing envy. He sighed with pure happiness. “What?” Laurel Meganack narrowed her eyes at him. She, too, was naked and submerged up to her neck in the steaming pool. He gave her a winning smile. She remained unimpressed, drained her wine and handed him the empty glass. He laughed and kissed her. She responded with enough enthusiasm that he gave some thought to going for a two-fer before rather than after, but she stiff-armed him. “Did you think you didn’t have to work for it? Go.” He sighed to let her know how he suffered, and splashed her good when he vaulted out of the pool and ran for the cabin door. The blowing snow stung his skin with a thousand tiny needles. There was significant shrinkage but you couldn’t blame a guy for that. The wind chill had to be something like thirty below.
ICYMT, some fun posts from stabenow.com |