dresses. But if the child came first, the mother automatically followed.
3. Never take your eye of the prize. He never left the tent, with the exception of buying grilled corn-on-the-cob near the end of the day. He never moved from his spot.
4. Know your end-game. The women's clothing may have been more expensive, but the dancing animals were golden. I saw him sell one sweater during two days; he sold out of the dancing creatures. Women's clothing was everywhere; only he had dancing neon animals.
5. Have a plan B just in case. He could fall back on selling womens clothing, but he never had to.
6. Be patient. Once he would make a sale, he's go to the back of the tent. Shake it off a bit, and carefully choose the next animal to showcase. Then, he'd walk to the front of the tent and look both ways. He'd spy a small child heading his way, and poof, like magic, the animal would dance and the child would head straight to him. And so did mom.
7. Reel 'em in. No child is going to ignore a dancing neon purple poodle. And even if you didn't notice him and his dancing animals right away, there were three damn dancing puppets/animal/creatures, in a clear box above eye-level, clicking and jumping constantly. Electricity primed their movement. I heard the click. I tried to look away, but I couldn't.
8. Move on. Once the sale closed, he'd do the exact same thing again, in the exact same way, with the same result.
9. Time is on your side. He would take him time with each sale, doing what he had to do to close the deal. It was never time wasted. There wasn't a lot of conversation; just slight smiles from the man. He listened and you could almost see the wheels turning, deciding what must come next. It it was time he needed; then time it was. I watched him spend close to 10 minutes with one kid, and yes, the kid walked away with what he desperately wanted.
10. Believe in your product. There were no dancing neon purple poodles anywhere except here. Be unique. Be purposeful and people (or should I say kids) will come.
So there it is. How to be a success in business (or life) without a whole lot of effort. If we have a plan, set priorities, chronicle the steps to succeed, be patient and believe in yourself (your product OR your life), there's a good chance you'll make the sale (reach your dream). Who knew sitting at my vendor booth in downtown Dawsonville, Georgia, flanked by good ole' moonshiners would I be reminded of how to live life. All it takes is opening your eyes.
Thanks to the man with the dancing neon purple poodle.
I must say, those eleven days on the road were some of the best days of my life. And all the planning before we left made most of it possible. But when diversions and options were presented, we took them. We learned to bend our schedule, even our expectations and be open to the unexpected.
As all of us plan our travel for the fall, winter and spring months in the glorious Blue Ridge Mountains, we have many destinations calling our names. We remember this, too: make the journey getting there and back as awe-inspiring as the destination itself. Take time to get to know the innkeepers at the out-of-the way B & B: you might just discover that this is where Cheryl Tiegs filmed one of her famous ads. Engage in conversation with someone sitting beside you at the Storytelling Festival in Jonesborough; you might share a laugh (and a childhood memory) together. Find out where the locals eat and take a seat; you'll never go wrong experiencing homegrown; pull over at Perdeaux's Fruit Farm and ask about his unique invention for fruit; go see just what kind of people and places lay between Point A and Point B.
And if you happen to be in North Georgia in October, Dawsonville specifically, we'd love to meet you. We've got a booth at the Moonshine Festival promoting my new book North Georgia Moonshine (more about that later). Come by and say, "hello," and we'll talk moonshine and mountains!
Places (and People) to discover this fall
Georgia Mountain Fall Festival | Hiawassee | October 9-17
Sorghum Festival | Blairsville | October 10-11, 17-18
Apple Festival | Ellijay | October 10-11, 17-18
Japenese Arts & Cultural Festival | Ballground | October 17-18, 24-25
Gold Rush Days | Dahlonega October 16 - 18
Unicoi Wine Trail | White CountyMoonshine Festival | Dawsonville October 24-25
Santa Express Train Ride | Blue Ridge Scenic Railroad | November 17- December 24
EAT + STAY = Mountain Laurel Farm
Country Music Highway | US 23 | Ashland to Whitesburg
Wherever you chose to travel this fall, remember this: make getting there as exciting as arriving. There's much to do, much to explore in these Blue Ridge Mountains, so get away this weekend. We'd love to hear your tales from the road! Happy travels.
September 27, 2014, was a long time coming. It was my dream in December, 1982, and today, it's just a house. Houses grow old, just like me, and if not given love and attention, will die. Such is the tale of Colquitt. After many attempts to spruce up the old joint, it wasn't going to happen without the help of a winning scratch-off. So sell, we shall. After Ty's (gracious and out-of-his-league) attempt to gut and become Mr. Fix-it fell through, the choice of buyers during year one became slim and non-existent. Then, a dreamer like me saw the potential, is taking a chance and will make this little bungalow into a dream once again. I wish him luck and prosperity. I wish the same for us.
So on this overcast fall Saturday in Georgia (while the Dawgs undo Tennessee a few miles up the road), we're loading up and moving out; however, that doesn't come without a few tears and 'remember whens?'
What's a move without a lame attempt at a yard sale?
And then those items that you find that mean absolutely nothing to everyone else, but mean the world to you . . . .
. . . the china cabinet (that began its life as a TV) that mama and daddy transformed (that's what you did in those days). It's been painted a million times. Inside the drawers, you can still see a scant reminder of where "Judy Hill" scribbled her name in crayon.
. . . the oil lamps that sat in my living room in Clarkesville for as long as I can remember. Mama always said, "We must be prepared if the lights go out."
. . . and the table. The table that mama built. She got adventurous, took a class at North Georgia Tech (the Trade School as we called it), and built a table. It took residence in our dining room. We never ate at the table, but always adored it and treated it like royalty. It's gone through three moves now and is a little rough for wear. One day, it's going back home to the mountains - to our little cabin in the woods.
. . . and the ten-ton blue fan that mama kept in the back bedroom window to blow cool air from one end of the house to the other. In hot summers, I would go back to the bedroom, lay at the foot of the bed so that my face would be inches from those steel blades. I would enjoy the coolest place in the house and then start singing into the moving blades. "ahemahemmmmmm"
No matter what this little first house of mine became, it ends as a reminder of my wealth. I remember Mari's first birthday party around the backyard rose garden - stenciling the living room ceiling in purple love birds - mama rocking her first grandchild in the t-tiny living room - the day Challenger exploded and I froze in disbelief - sitting on the front stoop at night wondering, questioning - planting the dogwoods for Logan and Mari and the weeping cherry for Ty - a home for the three of us and mama when there was no where else to turn - where mama took her last breath - where I learned to stand alone.
I haven't left many houses in my life - Clarkesville, Jersey, Monroe - and I have to remember that the most important things I take with me. The boards, sheet-rock and windows are just that and nothing more.
I plan on having only two more in my life time - my current and most important one- Mayne Mill - and another, in Hiawassee. When Len and I get our fill of traveling and photography (doubt that will ever happen), we'll start on our little hideaway in the mountains. After all, mama's table needs a proper resting place.
All this thinking and processing and editing, and well, deciding on concepts that we can live with for a lifetime is exhausting! It has had feet a little over 18 months, but it's the last few months that we've stuck our toes deeper in the sand to make this adventure (not sure if that's the correct word) a reality. Our first finalized piece of two coots: our Seeing Southern logo. We're tweaking on this a bit for other uses, but this is us. Whenever you see this, it will represent us - Len and Judy - and our commitment to excellence, to the South and to the story. Not too shabby.
We hope you agree.
Get all your ducks in a row before you get started. I've heard that advice from most writers in my life, and now, that's exactly what I'm trying to do. Get organized. Figure out a road map. Get fueled up. Then, write.
Getting fueled up means getting the facts. Digging and researching and letting your mind explode with all the tiny clues that lead up to the big reality. It's a process that if not followed, will lead to many blank stares and hollow pages. As an editor, I hate that; as a writer, I hate that more. I'm trying to avoid that and learn from those who excel at this process much more than I.
With that in mind, our first event - an evening with the Lovells at The Old Pal in Athens. Carlos (Master Distiller) and his brother Fred swept through the crowd like long-lost friends and converted many to whiskey drinkers. Lovell Bros. whiskey, that is. And never far from her father is Carlene, the woman he entrusted to make his life-long love a legal reality. There's lots more about their story in the book, so consider this a tease.
My discovery and point is this: that each new journey contributes to who I am as a writer. Each time my eyes burrow into newspapers and my ears attend interviews, the big picture is sharper. The people that I have met thus far on this journey are incredible and already, this is already proving to be one of my greatest undertakings. At the end, the content will not have changed me, but it will have definitely made me more cognizant. Knowledge is imminent, but so are the relationships. It's the people you meet along the way - the historians, the sources - that make the path to publishing so rewarding. As far as relationships go, I consider Carlene to be one of my latest and greatest - a sidekick and friend in the nick of time.
I explored the Clarkesville Library yesterday and met the amazing historian, Bill Raper. Six hours passed at the blink of an eye and that was only the tip of the iceberg. Not only is he sharing his personal stories and documented facts about this Habersham County, he's also providing me a look into my past. How wild?
So here we go. Today, UGA. Tomorrow, UNC. The next day, who knows. I look forward to meeting the liaisons from everywhere and adding them to my list of comrades who seek to preserve the past for the future.
one of the best elements of our 'job' is that we get to meet people, photograph them and place their story within our collection of narratives - like the dalai lama, florida georgia line and lloyd carter. more than likely, our paths would have never crossed unless opal (our camera's name) or storytelling hadn't assembled us in the same space. that moment in our lives would have been forever blank, but now, it's filled with new faces and sparkling laughter that make our existence richer. sometimes, we click with people; other times, not so much, but that's okay. no matter what the end result, i firmly believe that every chance meeting leaves an impression.
this past weekend we met the haler family. in our short afternoon together, here's what we took away:
and in telling these stories, we have learned a truth - the eyes have it. always. the true story, the authentic story can be found within the eyes. the happiness. the sorrow. the anticipation. the desire. focus there and you'll always capture the true story. that's what we do - find that window of the soul and let the eyes do the rest - sometimes, it's not the story the subject intends on sharing; on rare occasions, the eyes reflect the words precisely.
our parents were great storytellers, not because they were intense talkers, but because they believed the importance of remembering. with no camera, the oral traditions became the record. mama, and especially daddy, would carve grins from ear to ear when the tales became too funny or tears would escape the eyes when the tales became too sad. they spoke with their eyes, their facial expressions, their hands. remember when mama said, "use your words." as a writer, by all means, but frequently, we need help to dig a little deeper. with 'opal' watching and our ears listening, we will strive to capture the entire story.
at the of end of our first year as an 'official' storyteller, and during this christmas season, we are thankful beyond measure for the eyes that have glanced our way and for those who have allowed us to share their story with the rest of the world. we are blessed. our desire for this season and all the days that will follow is that you will take note of the memoir your eyes are sharing. the stories your lips impart. for that is your story, the one that you share with others, and the one by which you will be remembered.
Whether it is exploring this amazing world or being content on my own piece of real estate near Athens, Georgia, I'm spinning stories and fashioning tales from a Southern perspective. As an editor and writer, I get to meet incredible people and share their stories. As a photographer, I get to cement these moments in time. As a wife and mother, I'm always excited to see what's around the next corner, For it's anything but ordinary.