Sunday, July 27, 2014

Things To Do at the SCBWI Conference

by Hilde Garcia

It's conference time again and I am excited.  Every year I attend, it is always a new experience leaving me inspired and with many new friends.  For some folks, it might seem a bit daunting.  If you are new, there is a Pre Conference Orientation to help you get off to a great start. 

And if you visit the SCBWI website, you have a wealth of information you can review, especially the DO's and Don'ts PDF.  Click on the link below to take you to that most excellent document.

But if you are a little nutty and want to take a different approach and have some fun in the process, just relive with us some of Pen and Ink's most fun antics throughout the years.

I have been attending since 2007. The conference always seems to fall on my birthday weekend and the best present I can be given by my family is three days of R and R. 

In 2010, Pen and Ink decided to attend as a group. And if you remember Gypsy Rose Lee, Kris decided it wasn't enough to simply  attend, we had to have a gimmick. Kris suggested we create a picture book. And we did it up Hollywood Style.

Two days before the conference, Kris, Sue, and I were having manicures and then Taquito Tuesday at El Torito.  Kris found an idea in her margarita.  "We should do a pirate alphabet picture book at the conference."

We looked into our margaritas but only saw alcohol. 

"And how should we do this?" I wolf down a taquito.

We should ask authors at the conference to pick a letter and say it into the camera in their best pirate voice."

"It sounds good to me," says Sue.

"Me too," I say, "but who is going to break it to Lupe?"

"Just bake him some cookies and he will cave," Kris says.

So we did.  We designate Lupe as our cameraman. Sue is our costumer. And Kris and I began to shanghai victims… hem, potential participants to take part in the fun.  I have to admit, I was a bit skeptical that people would want to do it, but we were surprised at how little convincing people needed.  They were quite willing indeed.

And you wouldn't believe the caliber of pirates we had join our ship!  You will have to click on the link to see the cast of bandits… I mean… award winning authors extraordinaire.  My daughter did our art work.

Click on me if you know what's good for ya!

Once we finished The Pirate Alphabet, Stephanie Gordon and Judith Enderle, fixed us with their minatory eyes and said, "What you gonna do next year?"

We felt obligated and a bit scared to say no.

SO- we decided to send my hamster, J. J., to the conference.  There was only one problem.  He died. Sue found a great stand in named Penny. We were assured she was young and not pregnant.  Two days later, she gave birth to 6 hamsters.  

Then the thought hit us.  

How hard is it to write when you are a mom? And even get out of the house to go anywhere?  Thus was born the hilarity of Penny Goes to the Conference for a MS Consultation. 

She signed up for a constellation and sought advice from her fellow non-furry writer pals.  We didn't expect her to actually get a consultation with an agent, but that she did, with none other than the excellent Ms. Linda Pratt.  Want to see our hilarity?  Click below.  

 Visit our post and click on both videos!
Visit our post and click on both videos for maximum fun!
You can also read Penny's pages on the post.  

Other things you can learn to do at a conference.  Practice your dance skills, learn to wrap, bake cookies to share, work on your smashing costume for the Saturday Night gala. 

One year, my husband and I, dressed up as Mr. and Mrs. Hollywood and Lin Oliver was so tickled by it, she still calls us by those names!  

And when the theme was blue, so were we! I played Happy Birthday on the bongos to Elizabeth Law and years later, it lead to a submission to her office.

The year we wore pajamas, we came in our own Say Goodnight "moon" PJ's, bottoms optional. (We made shirts to spoof Go the F to sleep picture book).

We were part of the 2012 Flash Mob. Good luck trying to find me in it. And if you have a talented husband, get him to rap!
Click to see the 2012 Flash Mob tribute to Lin Oliver and Steve Mooser!

That's my guy!
By the way, the best writing advice I can give you, is networking advice:

Pay attention to your costume. Competition is fierce and prizes are awarded! 

Here are some parting thoughts to make the most of your weekend:

1. Go up to people and simply say hi. They will say hi back. I did and here's our new friend Nuria.  If you visit Rita Crayon Huang's Flickr photo album, she has thousands of awesome photos of the last 6 conferences.

2. When people ask you if you are published, say you are "pre-published."

3. When you shake someone's hand, really shake it. Nothing is worse than a lackluster shake. Look them in the eye and smile when you shake. Trust me, it's a dying art form, but one still worthy of being practiced.

4. Consume alcohol respectably.

5. And make sure that if you have any "costume" pieces still on your face or body, you quickly leave them in the elevator before you crawl to your chair on Sunday morning. (Actually, the year we did the 1970's theme, my peace sign came with me to the Sunday morning keynote).

Lin Oliver and Stephen Mooser at SCBWI have created what is the closest thing to Nirvana for me. I cherish these days that refuel my soul and jump start my writing for the year. 

No matter what, come prepared to smile, have fun, and be inspired.

From all of us at Pen and Ink, thanks for reading!

Happy 5th Anniversary to our group!
Here's the whole gang. Lupe, Sue, Me and Kris, then my junior inkies- Sam and Victoria and the one and only silent technical partner, David "The Rapper" Krol.  Without him, Skype and many other tech stuff would escape us!

Sunday, July 20, 2014

Avonlea is for me!

Our Journey to Avonlea.
by Sam and Victoria Krol

with some thoughts from our mom, Hilde Garcia

I always knew that Avonlea was a fictions name that L. M. Montgomery gave to the setting that served as a backdrop for her novels.  She grew up in Cavendish, the prettiest spot on the north shore, as many have commented, and in her enchanting novels, she had us all fall in love with a place called Avonlea.

Then on Canada Day, while in line for Cow's Creamery ice cream, the best ice cream we have ever tasted, a lovely family told us that we had to go to Avonlea. I, of course, said, that was not the real name of the town, but they said, "No, you have to go to Avonlea.  It's an actual place."  Well, we attempted to find it on our phone and the woman says, "You can't miss it.  It's on the way to Montgomery's Cavendish home."  Imagine my delight when I thought about really traveling there. No journey to P. E. I. could be complete without a visit to Avonlea.

SO we put our phone away. No one else had theirs out and we trusted we'd find it in the morning. I stayed up late that night and read all about it on the internet though, and couldn't sleep for the anticipation of being able to walk through time.

I wondered if it would be captivating for the rest of my crew.  From what I could tell, we were going to go back in time and "play" as if we were in the novel.  It sounded like fun to me, but you know how kids are today, so I wasn't sure what to expect.

SO here are their takes on visiting Avonlea.


It was fun pretending to live in 1901.  Josie Pye asked me what air conditioning was when I mentioned it to her.  So I explained it during flag making time.  We also did wool dying with Ms. Rachel Lynde.  We had to fetch water from the water pump because there wasn't a sink.  And then we brought the bucket back to the tub where we were going to place the wool.  We all took turns.

"Today, we are going to dye wool," Mrs. Rachel Lynde said.  Then she pulled out some samples in different stages of the dye process.  The she said, "We're going to use this new fangled thing called Kool-aid."  Some adults chuckled.  Then she let us smell it.  It smelled like beets.  She poured the grape kool-aid into the bucket full of water.  Then she stirred it, then she dumped in the yarn and said "Let's soak the yarn in the bucket until 4 o'clock.  I ended up coming back two days later and I bought the yarn I helped die and made a scarf for me and one for my doll.

Then we did a whole bunch of other stuff.

For example, step dancing, square dancing, (not the same thing), pie eating contest, and more.

Okay readers, here's a little news flash.  The whole time we were on Prince Edward Island, we saw no one on a CELL PHONE!!  And in Avonlea, everyone was having wholesome fun!!!  The second day in Avonlea, I went to and played around with Josie Pye who was glad we had returned.  We had this shannanigan going on that started when she wrote Anne's name incorrectly on the chalk board.  My middle name is Anne, with an e, so I had to let her know.

It all started when Josie Pye told a falsehood on the first day of school.  She said that Anne broke her tablet over Gilbert's head 117 times. We knew that couldn't be true, because we saw it, it was only once.  I of course, defended Anne and told Josie my middle name was Anne, with an e.

Josie said, "It should be Victoria Josie."  And preceded to call me that the rest of the day.  During knitting with Mrs. Lynde, she announced it to everyone in the store.  I went, "Uggh!"  My dad asked why I was annoyed and I said, "Because she dislikes that my name is Anne and is calling me Victoria Josie." (But I secretly love it.)

During this whole time, Josie was waiting for me so we could go and play, but I told her I would catch up with her.  My dad and I decide to have some fun and we ran back to the school house and wrote on the chalk board Josie's name wrong five different ways.  We wrote Josey Pye, Josee Pie, Josie with the Pi symbol, and even José Torta which is Josie Pye in Spanish.

Then she came and read it and left me a note, "Dear Viktoreeeah Josie, You should focus on your spelling more. Love JOSIE PYE."  What I loved was how much she played along and she was all grown up and loved pretending.

It was hard to say goodbye.  She hugged me and told me to have a safe journey out West.  I could have stayed in Avonlea forever.


When I went to Avonlea in Prince Edward Island, which is in Canada, I played a game called Crokinole with three of the townspeople who were named Tommy, Gilbert, and Moody.  Crokinole is a game where you shoot discs across the circular game board trying to land in the higher scoring regions of the board, while also attempting to knock away opposing discs.  We played about ten games together on one of the games I shot the disc so hard that it bounced off of the board and landed in Moody's shirt pocket.  Since there were four people, we made teams of two.  Every few games, we switched teams so we got to play with everybody.  Crokinole is a game that's hard, but fun.

There was also a fair and in the fair they had a pie eating contest.  The contestants that were in the pie eating contest were my mom, known as Hilde, a town boy, and two other visitors.  The winner of the pie eating contest was one of the two visitors.  My mom didn't win because the crust was stuck to the plate and she couldn't get it up off of the plate!  The contest was very funny because you could only eat with your mouth. What I mean is you couldn't use your hands.  At the end of the pie contest, my sister and I, started to dip our fingers in the pie. A few dips later, my mom told us to stop.  All the contestants had a pie mustache and by the way, the pie was chocolate!

We also participated in a sack race.  Well, it was actually four sack races. One for the small and young ones, one for the the big and older kids and two for the adults- ladies and gentlemen.  My sister got placed in the little kid race because she is short and she WON first place, and was given an
"I love Gilbert!" tattoo.  In the older kid race, I WON that race and I got the same tattoo.  My mom yelled, "Those are my twins."  My mom asked if I could have the tattoo so I gave it to her.

The adult race was very funny.  My dad came in last place because he fell down.  My mom got 3rd place because two taller girls beat her by one jump and they tied.  I think it was too close, but there wasn't any kind of replay camera.

I also played a kick ball game and threw balls into a wooden board that had holes in it and every time you made it in, you had to back up and throw from a farther distance. I did really well in that game.


And the pig races were awesome! It was fun and I didn't want to go.

Today's kids have a world of electronic gadgets at their fingertips. Many children today do not look up when they speak to you, have trouble reading facial expressions, and simply cannot pretend, converse, or make believe.  It's a travesty.

Avonlea to all the visitors that came and to me was a haven, hope that we haven't lost all the kids of today just yet. So many kids loved the story and loved that it was brought to life.  My kids reveled in it and suspended their reality for not one day, but two, as we simply couldn't get enough of the first day there.

The second day, feeling like we had come home, I simply let the kids run amuck doing whatever they wanted while I wandered around and shopped. They shadowed the town "children" and played with them and even skipped down the side walk.

Happier times. Simpler times.  I cannot wait to return.

Monday, July 14, 2014

Dispatch #24: The Story Not Told

by Lupe Fernandez

Everybody tells the truth on Facebook.

Okay, maybe it's a case of selective memory.

I found a former high school alumni on the omnipresence FB. I remembered said alumni - we'll call "Barbie" - as my journalism teacher's assistant during seventh period. As a senior, I had that period free and used it to work on a video project for the National Science Foundation in the back room of Mrs. L's class. Video project for sounds fancy, but using 3/4 video tape machines for editing is like petting a cat with dental floss. Barbie would type notes and/or perform other clerical work for Mrs. L in exchange for class credit.

So I reintroduced myself to Barbie by citing this memory.

Barbie said it was not her. "You must be thinking of my sister."

I rechecked the FB photos and my year book. Barbie was Mrs. L's assistant, not her sister. I never knew her sister. While Barbie admitted to being an alumni, she denied knowing me, working for Mrs. L or spending anytime in the back room. It was not her sister. It was her. Barbie. We would talk about school, my video project or Barbie's social life.

So why would Barbie deny knowing me? Let us put aside the "you're a creepy guy" explanation for the sake of argument and my reputation. Since this is about young adults, let us concentrate on the high school experience. Why would a teenage girl hide her identity?

What could have happened to Barbie that she would deny knowing an alumni decades in the future?

For the sake of storytelling, let us example three fictional scenarios:
Barbie is a slender, fashionable clothed party girl. Looks good in a tube top. Her hair sandy blond hair is shoulder-length and feathered. She smokes in the quad - it is legal in these days - and parties with her friends in the school parking lot.

The summer of her junior year she goes on spur-of-the moment car camping trip with two girlfriends. In the mountains they stop in a campground to use the outhouse.

A good-looking guy shows up on a yellow and black motorcycle. He encourages the girls to ride the bike. Barbie wants to show off so the three of them climb on. They have one helmet between them and argue who should wear it. The other girls don't want to wear it because it makes them look stupid in from of the cute guy. Barbie doesn't trust her friend handling the bike so she wears the helmet. Before they roar off, the cute guy takes their picture.

Six hours later, Barbie wakes up in a county hospital. Her parents weep at her recovery. The police ask about her two missing girl friends. Barbie can't remember anything after the photo flash. She tells the police about the cute guy and the motorcycle at the campground. No such campground exists. No trace of cute guy or motorcycle. And how did she get the strange scar on her abdomen?

Back at school, everybody thinks Barbie is hiding something, covering up. She can still smell pine needles and exhaust fumes.

Drugs? Murder? Guilt. She just wants to forget.

Barbie types up Mrs. L's notes for a proposal on expanding the school newspaper pages. The last bell rings. The skinny guy LF turns off all his video equipment, grabs his stuff and says goodbye. He's out the door. Barbie turns in the typed notes to Ms. L and goes to the door. She searches her purse for her pack of Marlboro cigarettes. Barbie's sure she had the pack. Maybe she took it out and accidentally left it in the back room.

She looks around the video equipment and piles of LF's video tapes. No Marlboro. She hears noises in the journalism dark room - adjacent to the backroom - but nobody's supposed to be back there. Maybe LF came back and is playing a trick on her. He had talked some science stuff about the dangers of smoking. Yawn! Barbie opens the door, passes through the black curtains and finds the red lights on. On the counter is her cigarette pack. She collects it, but notices photos hanging from a clothes line. Group photos of students with circles drawn around several popular and not so popular kids.

"They're spies, Barb." It's Mrs. L. "They work for the other side. We have to stop them."


"War is coming and only a few of us can stop it."

Mrs. L isn't kidding. This is no joke.

"You'll be trained in weapons and martial arts. But no one can know. Not your parents. Family. Friends. Anybody."

This is too weird.

"Do you want to graduate?"


"Then say yes."

Okay. When do I start? 

"You are adopted."

What now you tell me? I'm going to graduate next year. What a minute?

This is some kind of sick joke. I look too much like my sister. Everybody says so. No way I'm adopted. I know I've said I don't look anything like my sister and my parents are too weird to be related to me but I'm not adopted. There's all those pictures and shit. Why are you doing this to me? If this is about the time I almost burned the house down with those guys at my sixteenth birthday, I said I was sorry. I thought it was lighter fluid, not gasoline. I mean, look at my hair. It's just like hers. Well hers is more curly but she perms it.

By the way where's my curling iron? I need a new one. The old one is frying my hair.

This is not funny. I'm not laughing. Oh my God, you people are crazy. Have you been smoking weed? Oh my God, Mom. Dad. You're a bunch of dope heads. That garden you keep. The one you told me is special herbs. No wonder you're always going to Berkeley. Shit Dad, now I know why you wear those ugly tinted glasses. Your stoned all the time. They let university professors get away with all kinds of shit. In a magazine? Really Mom? Modeling. I'm so sure. I'm so disguised.

I'm changing my name and disowning all you guys.

Well, there you have it. 

Perhaps one. Perhaps none. Maybe some people just don't remember high school and have better things to do than answer questions on FB from a stranger.

Then again, the messages I wrote to Barbie have disappeared from FB.


Sunday, July 6, 2014

Pilgrimage to Green Gables

Anne Country- by Hilde Garcia
L. M. Montgomery as a child
A photo taken near the end of her life.
You never know what peace is until you walk on the shores or in the fields of Prince Edward Island on a summer twilight when the dew is falling and the old old stars are peeping out and the sea keeps its nightly trust with the little land it loves.  You find your soul then- you realize that youth is not a vanished thing but something that dwells forever in the heart. And you look around on the dimming landscape of haunted hill and murmuring ocean, of homestead lights and old fields, tilled by dead and gone generations who loved them- and you say, “I have come home.”

From the L. M. Montgomery Journals, Vol. 61, 4/9/1936

From the moment I set eyes on the southern shores of P. E. I., my life-long desire for this pilgrimage had come to fruition. My heart swelled at the sight of the red cliffs, the rolling green hills, and sloping farmlands peppered throughout the landscape.

This is the Lake of Shining Waters

Anne Country.  That’s what the northern shore is called by the guardians of the island- the fine people who keep the spirit of kindred alive every day, and in a way, keep L. M. Montgomery alive too.  We have been so welcome here.

Our 6 bedroom, 1800’s farm house, Annandale, is located outside of Kensington in Long River.  It's so like Green Gables, I feel I’ve traveled in a time warp. Annadale's former owner, Victoria Howatt, sang at Maud’s wedding and had tea with her in the very kitchen where I made cookies this week.  Here are photos of all the bedrooms. My family and I played musical beds all week to try them all!

My cookies have now traveled to P. E. I. Canada
Silver Bush was Maud’s favorite place according to her journals.  This was the homestead of John and Annie Campbell, L. M. Montgomery’s aunt and uncle.  It’s now the home to the Anne of Green Gables Museum.  She spent her happiest times there and eventually was married in their downstairs parlor.

Silver Bush
My family and I took a carriage ride with “Matthew”- (his real name is Donald)- over the lake of Shining Waters and to the sea.  She wrote four novels about Silver Bush- Pat of Silver Bush, Mistress Pat, The Story Girl, and The Golden Road.
Lover's Lane, behind the home of Silver Bush
Matthew aka Donald getting the horses ready for a carriage ride.

I had the pleasure of meeting Pam Campbell, a descendent of Aunt Annie and Uncle John, who runs the AGG Museum now. Pam's brother and wife own the property.  Pam grew up not a fan of Anne, wanting to be far away from this shrine, only to return as an adult, discovering Anne for the first time, succumbing to her irresistible charm.  Is there anyone Anne doesn’t eventually enchant?
Pam Campbell, my daughter, and Lady.
Maud, as she was called by those who knew her, was born in the town of Clifton, which is now called New London.  At 21 months old, she went to live at the Cavendish home of her maternal grandparents.  

The home in Clifton where she was born
The Cavendish home is no longer standing, but the "real" Green Gables, the home of David Montgomery Jr. and his sister, Margaret, cousins of Maud's grandfather, is and it's where Maud spent most of her days and where her inspiration for Anne derived.  
The "real" Green Gables in Cavendish
John Macneill, a great-grandson of Alexander and Lucy Macneill, and his wife Jennie, live on this farmland, which was passed down to them through generations of Macneills.  They carefully restored the site and tend it.  I met them both, really, and their granddaughter also named Jennie, who works at the bookstore on their property. (Granddaughter Jennie is the 6th generation Macneill).

Jennie Macneill (wife of John Macneil) tending the Montgomery garden.
The Bookstore on the site of the Cavendish Home.  Jennie, the granddaughter, is inside tending the bookstore.  Her grandfather told me the funniest story about the snow being so high this winter, that he took the sled and went down the hill from the second floor!  A kindred spirt to Anne indeed.  He was a child when Maud passed away.

We spent a day in the Avonlea village, which pays homage to a simpler way of life. This village allows you to step back in time.  So my daughter and I did by dressing for the part.  We dyed wool with Ms. Rachel Lynde, played games with the Avonlea school children (excellent performers), sat in the schoolhouse where Maud taught in the town of Belmont. (The actual school house was brought to this village in its entirety as was the church and the manse.)  

I called my daughter, Anne.  My son loved the pig races and my husband loved the school concert at the end of the day.  We ended up coming back on Friday and spent an additional morning playing.  It was so hard to leave.

Growing up, I read to escape my world and L. M.’s world was captivating.  Her descriptions of the people from this island transcended country, culture, and time.  Their plight was intoxicating and I couldn’t get enough of them.  I could find part of me in every story, in every book.  When I arrived here, it was like a tryst I’d kept with my soul, for I promised myself more than three decades ago that I would travel to this idyllic place.
And travel I did and it was the road that made all the difference.
My children running down the lane to our cottage.  It was a third of a mile and it did them in!

And why does she speak to me? An immigrant Cuban girl from Hialeah, Florida of no particular importance, with no great claim to fame?  We couldn’t be farther apart or more different.  What could we possibly share? Well, for one, a love of books, a love of words.  A need to hold on to the past? An inexhaustible spirit, like Anne’s?

During a time when women were meant to stay home, Maud defied those constraints by becoming a published author, repeatedly, while being a wife and a mother.  Her works have been in print for more than 100 years, and are still cherished by young and old.  What she wrote is as relevant today as it was then.  Her published journals and letters give us a glimpse of who this woman really was and those only make you cherish her works more deeply.

Especially if you consider that she typed her entire body of work, after writing it longhand in many cases, on this typewriter. No copy and paste feature at all!

Being here is powerful and magical. The island’s charm is a warm glow that stays with you while you are on the island. And even once you leave.
On the Annandale porch. Right after this was taken, we packed in a rush to leave in order to beat Hurricane Arthur. We left that night at 11pm, drove all night, and hit the storm in Maine, outside of Bangor, where we pulled over to wait it out.  It's a good thing we did.  Nova Scotia was hit that morning, all flights were canceled, and more than 100,000 homes were without power.

Saturday, 5pm, 18 hours of driving later and through the storm, we arrive at JFK and return our Canadian rental car. Don't let the photo fool you, we are so tired, we were absolutely punch drunk. We all promptly crashed when Grandpa took us home!
The following words I read in a foreword of a book I bought.  They ring so true in my heart and when I read them this week, every road and country lane on P. E. I. was sunlit bright, like the beams of light that lanterns from lighthouses shine on sailors so they can find their way home.

"Everything L. M. Montgomery taught me was more valuable than any of the history lessons I learned later, and for me she is the writer who understands more than anyone what it is to come out of a country that was basically rural and become a player on the world stage because of circumstances.  I understand the continuing appeal of her work because I have never forgotten it.  I have never considered it to be a ‘childish thing.’  I have never put away L. M. M.  I love her to this day.”

-by the Right Honourable Adrieanne Clarkson, PC, CC, CMM, CD-
the 26th Governor General of Canada
Foreward in Imagining Anne-
The Island Scrapbooks of L. M. Montgomery.

I have never put her away.

I love her to this day.

I found my way home.
This is real estate for sale.  So tempting!

Her Works
Anne of Green Gables
Anne of Avonlea
Kilmeny of the Orchard
The Story Girl
The Golden Road
Anne of the Island
Anne's House of Dreams
Rainbow Valley
Rilla of Ingleside
Emily of New Moon
Emily Climbs
The Blue Castle
Emily's Quest
Magic for Marigold
A Tangled Web
Pat of Silver Bush
Mistress Pat
Anne of Windy Poplars
Jane of Lantern Hill
Anne of Ingleside

The Watchman and Other Poems
The Poetry of Lucy Maud Montgomery

Chronicles of Avonlea
Further Chronicles of Avonlea
The Road to Yesterday
The Doctor's Sweetheart
Akin to Anne: Tales of Other Orphans
Along the Shore: Tales by the Sea
Among the Shadows: Tales from the Darker Side
After Many Days: Tales of Time Passed
Against the Odds: Tales of Achievement
At the Altar: Matrimonial Tales
Across the Miles: Tales of Correspondence
Christmas with Anne and Other Holiday Stories

The Selected Journals of L.M. Montgomery Volume I: 1889-1910
The Selected Journals of L.M. Montgomery Volume II: 1910-1921
The Selected Journals of L.M. Montgomery Volume III:1921-1929
The Selected Journals of L.M. Montgomery Volume IV:1929-1935
The Selected Journals of L.M. Montgomery Volume V:1935-1942

The Green Gables Letters: from L.M. Montgomery Ephraim Weber, 1905-1909
My Dear Mr. M: Letters to G.B. MacMillan from L.M. Montgomery
After Green Gables: L.M. Montgomerys Letters to Ephraim Weber, 1916-1941

Courageous Women

The Island Hymn

The Alpine Path: The Story of My Career

To learn more about her and this beautiful island, visit these links:

Site of the Cavendish Home:             
Site of Green Gables Heritage Home:

Site of the Campbell Homestead:       
Site of L. M.'s Birthplace:                            No website. The number is 902-886-2099

Site of the L. M. Montgomery Institute: