Molasses Moon (Book of Life: 1) (Nonfiction)

If you've been rejected, use the pain to fly (or at least keep going). LG Shelnutt does that repeatedly here. This book could cause a fall (in love with MOLASSES) and an oath (to swear by the healing power of gingerbread).

"Mother Earth hates ecology, the heart loves cholesterol, and people should be able to die when they want to." -- L. G. Shelnutt

Like gingerbread, this book's spice isn't mild. Not believing in the power of bats' eyeballs, this parapsychologist author uses Quantum Physics for working mind over matter, or matter under mind... and maybe matter undermined.

A poignant, sometimes silly journal [Visceral History] of L.G.'S attempts to get published, MOLASSES MOON is spiced with questions in physics, metaphysics, and philosophy. It works as a reference manual for soul renewal.

It is also an amateur video series read aloud by the author on YouTube.

[That is why this book isn't enrolled in KDP Select with Amazon Prime. Understandably the Select program requires its books to be exclusive to Kindle when in digital format.]

MOLASSES MOON is now in a 2013 edition.

Possibly one of the factors selling this book is its Visceral History style.

Visceral History is a term used for true stories told from the gut. As Shelnutt notes in an appendix:

In process of publishing a few of these on Kindle, I began piecing together a code for this type of story using contrary talents. Honed undercover since high school journalism class, the Visceral History votive had flamed when I first picked up a pen.

The flame flashed when an afternoon class of clicking keys was stilled by a voice in terror bursting through the loudspeaker:

“President John F. Kennedy has been shot.”

A presence of consuming silence overtook the world as high level shock spread across the globe hissing lightning strikes to heartbeats, slamming cultures out of time.

Divine rhythm altered as momentum died. Each heart skipped, slowed, stopped, then speeded.

A racing solitary spirit surged to weave magnetic words through the tear in time...

From a memory tainted by now, paraphrase an opening in a high school newspaper article:

Typing stopped.
Talking ceased.
Papers stalled in shuffle.
Momentum paused in delays of next breaths.
It was November 22, 1963...

Using my current style of synaptic surfing I might type the first line [not sure if it’s better or worse], then continue syncopating some of the listed stops:

Key clacking died.
Fingertips hovered, stilled in shock.
Forty Smith Corona’s chilled.
Brain transmissions froze...

As allowed by my VH Code, even though I don’t remember how many typewriters, or if the brand was Smith Corona, I guessed 40 and chose SC as an icon for the time. If research brought up different facts, hopefully they would do as well in sparking close to the actual images for later day readers. If additional research couldn’t be done, or if the facts weren't accessible, these choices would serve to extend the essence of the story in words.

Writing about different ways of collecting history makes me wonder:

Though maybe not accessible through present human records, might each quantum in time own a continued presence... possibly in God’s Record Books, or Akashi Fields?

Maybe everything is saved somewhere in the cool preservation of darkness... Is lived history a precious commodity, second only to God and his collection of souls... which includes all of us, indeed all of existence?

If Mya Gem and most [maybe all] human religions are right, Spirit is everywhere, in everything, emanating as one through all the above as created and directed by God. Maybe we are one, separated only in time, for a purpose.

Celebrate!
Celebrate!
Dance to the music!

Not owning the talents or credentials of historians or working journalists [long may they live and prosper in honored trades], I can’t.... continued in the book's appendix material.