Branding time

Spring was always branding time. Growing up in western Oklahoma, I knew when dad saw those first blades of green grass peeking through the ground he would one day soon announce, “Get to bed early tonight kids, tomorrow is branding day.”

What does that have to do with writing? Hang on a minute.

There was a sense of excitement in the air next morning when Mom would have the iron skillet full of hot homemade biscuits, a platter of crispy fried fresh side bacon on the table and a dozen eggs sizzling in bacon grease on the stove. We’d slather the biscuits with fresh churned butter and jam made from wild sandhill plums, while gulping down a big cup of strong black coffee perkolated in the blue granite pot. Yum! (I was a wimp and had to add cream and sugar to get the coffee down back then.)

Our uncles and maybe some neighbors would be coming over to help. The cowboys might ride over on their saddle horse if they lived close enough, or bring old Smokey along in the horse trailer. We never had a big herd, but it was still hard work rounding up the cattle and separating out the new crop to be branded. I rode along on my Shetland pony, Trixie, to bring the dogies in from the pasture.

There was the familiar smell of wood smoke with Dad’s “Slash E” iron laying on the fire until it was red hot. The men herded the calves into the corral and then pushed them into a wooden crowding chute, kind of a cradle, that held them tight and kept them standing up. With one man on each side, the steer got vaccinated and branded within minutes. If the calf was male, he also lost a minor body part and got smeared with antiseptic. It was quick and routine, but he didn’t like it and usually let them know.

I was a girl, my brothers would say with a smirk, so I better stay back out of the way.

I happily did just that because I didn’t like wood smoke, the smell of burning hair and flesh mixed with the dust stirred up by the calves, or the noise of men yelling combined with cattle bawling and horses whinnying. I tried not to cry when the steers bawled in pain from the hot branding iron and a sharp knife cut.

Flash forward several years.

Larry the Cable Guy.
Ree Drummond, Pioneer Woman.
Clark Kent, Superman.
Carolyn Hart, Mystery Novelist.
James Michener, Author.
Bill Gates, Computer Guru.
Judy Howard, Quilt Lady.

What do these guys have in common? They are known by their “brand”.

Branding is the method to mark your style of writing and distinguish your product from anyone else’s. For the most effective branding, a memorable name and simple slogan should be combined with an instantly recognizable and unique logo. For instance, Kentucky Fried Chicken’s logo is the ‘Colonel Sanders’ design — a smiling image of his face. I picked my logo of the outline of a (friendly) buffalo. I need your help in choosing my brand. Keeping in mind my two passions - Genealogy and Writing - as well as pride in my hometown, here are some I have come up with.

Help me pick, or offer some ideas of your own.
Buffalo Woman
Graveyard Gal

Penny C. Sansevieri, Editor at Author Marketing Experts, Inc. says: As you develop your brand, you need a matching domain name. For instance, even if you do not use MySpace, Blogger, Twitter, Digg, Facebook, or LinkedIn, it is still a good idea to create an account name that mirrors your web presence.

What’s your brand? What is mine?
Help me out here.

Check my updated web page
www.CarolynBLeonard.com
Isn't it time you read my book? You know you want to.
www.WhosYourDaddyBook.com

Tar Baby and de Briar Patch by Carolyn B. Leonard

Back in the day when my young’uns were young’uns we always enjoyed storytime just before settling in for a good night’s rest. Our favorite stories were from the tales of Uncle Remus, the title character and narrator of a collection of animal stories, songs and folklore. My personal favorite was the story of “Tar Baby,” a doll made of tar and turpentine.

Brer Fox hated Brer Rabbit on account of the rabbit was always cutting capers and bossing everyone around, so Brer Fox thought a long time about how he could put down the rabbit. One day he sculpted some tar and turpentine into the figure of a cute little baby, stuck a hat on top and sat her in the middle of the road. Then the sly old fox hid in the bushes to watch.

Along come Brer Rabbit who stopped and stared at this strange creature. “Good Morning,” he said to the baby, tipping his hat. “Nice weather we are having.”

Tar Baby said nothing.

The Rabbit tried again, “And how you feeling this fine day?”

Tar baby said nothing.

The Rabbit spoke again, louder this time, thinking perhaps the baby was deaf.

“Are you just rude?” Rabbit said, “I can’t stand folks that are stuck up! You say Howdy-do now, or else!”

Tar baby just sat there in the middle of the road saying nothing at all.

“I’ll show you!” Rabbit said, losing his temper. He doubled up his paw and took a swing at the cute little Tar Baby -- and his paw got stuck in the tar.

“Lemme go or I’ll hit you again,” shouted the rabbit.

Tar Baby, she still say nothing.

Rabbit swung his free paw and now he is completely stuck.
He pounced on the tarbaby with both feet and they sank deep into the tar. He was covered with tar from head to foot and unable to free himself.

At that moment, Brer Fox came out of the bushes to gloat at the success of his plan.
The fox said “I’ve got you this time, rabbit. You have sassed me for the very last time. Let’s see now, what should I do with you?”

Brer Rabbit’s eyes got very large. Brer Rabbit knew he had been “outfoxed” and did some fast thinking. The helpless but cunning bunny thought a minute and said, “Oh please, Brer Fox, whatever you do, please don’t throw me in the briar patch.”

“The briar patch, huh?” said the fox. “That’s a great idea! You will be torn to pieces there.”

Brer Fox grabbed up the tar-covered rabbit, swung him around and round, and flung him head over heels into the briar patch. Rabbit fell into the bushes with a mighty thump ... And then there was complete silence ... where Brer Fox was expecting to hear screams of pain. The fox put his paw to his ear and listened again and again but no screams did he hear. Then he heard someone call his name. Fox turned around and looked up the hill where he saw that trickster Brer Rabbit sitting on a log combing the tar out of his fur and smiling.

The resourceful rabbit, who was definitely at home in a thicket, had escaped.

“I was born and bred in the briar patch,” Rabbit called back over his shoulder, skipping merrily away. “You might want to remember that. Born and bred in a briar patch.”

These stories of Uncle Remus were told almost two centuries ago, and not published until 1845. The origin is linked to both Cherokee and African cultures. They still hold good meaning today. Brer Rabbit is a trickster character who succeeds through wit rather than physical strength.

Remember the Tar Baby story when you seem embroiled in a sticky mess -- a problem that gets worse the more you struggle against it. And remember that being thrown into the briarpatch could be the step that saves your life!

Hugs, Carolyn
Check my updated web page
www.CarolynBLeonard.com
Isn't it time you read my book? You know you want to.
www.WhosYourDaddyBook.com