Leslie Slape, storyteller

This story, or at least this much of it, came to me in the rain. Funny how, for me, a good hard rain sends my mind into the dream-state. Once I was asked to write a story for a wedding and it wrote itself in its entirety during a particularly heavy storm.
Anyway, this story isn't finished because it didn't rain long enough. I'm posting this much in case anyone has suggestions, feedback, etc. Meanwhile, I'll keep working on it.

Honeygirl

Tom was 13 when his father died, leaving the boy suddenly… Continue

I think it would have been fun to watch the dialect comedians in vaudeville, as long as they didn't get too insulting. I grew up surrounded by accents from the Old Country. One grandfather was from Finland, the other from Russia. My grandmothers' ancestors had been here longer, but there were still accents of long ago in their speech. One of the towns where I lived as a child was filled with Italians. I remember one old man letting me pick a May Day bouquet from his garden with, "Pick a nice-a b… Continue

It's been two weeks since I drove home from Fanning the Embers -- a Storytellers' Retreat filled to bursting with the creative spirit. Part of the excitement came from the reaction of my fellow tellers to "The Tale-Teller," a story I wrote but rarely tell. The morning of Aug. 3, I told it. By the time I got home, I had plotted a fantasy novel around it.
Or rather, around both of the stories I wrote using the metaphor of Story Stones. I wrote them at the same time and they're basically the same t… Continue