In the Shade of the Cherry Tree .... with Zan Marie Steadham

The Curse of Knowledge

2012-01-24T14:39:00.003-05:00

~~I think it's unfair--the more you know, the more you have on your to-do list. Especially if you're a writer. Take details for example. We know we need them to make a scene real, but which ones do we use and how many should be included? Recently Diana Gabaldon posted a Master Class on the Books and Writers Forum on using details. Diana emerses her readers in a scene, but you never feel like you're drowning in details, so it pays to give attention to what she says. One great example from the master class is:

Use description to describe the narrator (in terms of attitude, relastionship, etc.) as well as the person or situation being described.

This really made me stop and think. All of FRIENDLY FIRE is told from the POV of Laura Grace Chandler. How well am I describing my main character from the details included in each scene? Here's some examples and what I think I was saying. You be the judge. Did I pull it off?

Ex. 1: (Aim--a reduction of tension)
The dappled shade and bright patches of vinca and impatiens along the path began their calming medicine. Magnolia blooms heavy with vanilla and lemon scented the warm air. The beauty of the place captured my mind as I settled into my rhythm. A flock of Canadian geese honked at each other as a mother goose, followed by five fluffy goslings, sailed by. The little ones were puffs of downy yellow-gray as their legs worked overtime to keep up with their stately mother. Male mockingbirds strutted their stuff, raising their wings in the time-honored ritual to show how big they were in hope of attracting the ladies, and I found myself laughing. The sap was rising, just like spring at the high school.

Ex. 2: (Aim: fear, worry)
Silk ficus trees draped with dust like Spanish moss and park benches had replaced the plastic chairs, but nothing disguised the institutional nature of DFCS. Air freshener from one of the offices still clashed with the disinfectant used in the restrooms. Neither scent was a bouquet I wanted to bury my nose in. Hunching in my coat couldn’t block December’s cold that penetrated the block walls.

Ex. 3: (Aim: uneasiness)
Streetlights glinted on the neighbors’ cars except for the ratty Ford in front of the Talley house. Frowning, I stepped further onto the porch to see it better. Rosemary wouldn’t have let one of the boys buy a car like that, but it was the same one I had noticed outside the school yesterday. I shrugged.

~~I'll admit to being an impatient sort--I want every scene I write to be it's best the first time through, but that's not reality. But I think I'll have to go back and assess every scene for Laura Grace's emotional POV to evaluate the details. Not to mention all the other reasons for revision.

~~I have to remind myself of the Ira Glass quote:

“What nobody tells people who are beginners — and I really wish someone had told this to me . . . is that all of us who do creative work, we get into it because we have good taste. But there is this gap. For the first couple years you make stuff, and it’s just not that good. It’s trying to be good, it has potential, but it’s not. But your taste, the thing that got you into the game, is still killer. And your taste is why your work disappoints you. A lot of people never get past this phase. They quit. Most people I know who do interesting, creative work went through years of this. We know our work doesn’t have this special thing that we want it to have. We all go through this. And if you are just starting out or you are still in this phase, you gotta know it’s normal and the most important thing you can do is do a lot of work. Put yourself on a deadline so that every week you will finish one story. It is only by going through a volume of work that you will close that gap, and your work will be as good as your ambitions. And I took longer to figure out how to do this than anyone I’ve ever met. It’s gonna take awhile. It’s normal to take awhile. You’ve just gotta fight your way through.”

~~No one said write was easy. Well, maybe knowledge isn't a curse, but a goal.
Happy Writing!

Can You Hear Me Now?

2012-01-17T10:24:00.000-05:00

~~We’ve had problems with the phone and the DSL before, but this time takes the cake. For several months, the internet had been shutting down intermittently, but within seconds our software would reconnect and restore the session. We shrugged.

~~About three weeks ago, we had a phone that refused to work, but we did have internet still. The provider said to check out each piece of equipment on the line because one of them wasn’t hanging up. After checking the modem, the fax, and three phones, we zeroed in on one phone and replaced it. Problem solved. For all of a week.

~~Then our phones started to short ring, hanging up before caller ID could kick in. When we did make connection, the static was horrendous. Mind you, we are the main caregivers and backup for our two mothers. Not having reliable phones isn’t acceptable. So I called the provider again. This time the suggestion was that our DSL/phone line filters were iffy. We replaced them.

~~Still the problems persisted and got worse. This time, because we had service off and on, the provider said it has to be the inside lines…and, by the way, if a repairman comes out and it’s inside lines, you’ll be charged $85 just for the guy coming. Sigh.

~~We really are very good at solving problems and with a solution that depended on us, we prepared. After buying new wire and all the necessary items needed to replace the inside wires, we plugged one phone into the outside box and had service—for two days. The short rings, hang ups, and static started again. By that time, John had already spent three hours under our ninety-year old house pulling the rat nest of wires that had been added…and added over the years.

~~This time I told the provider to send that repairman! Guess what the problem was? The outside line between the pole and the house. A short that disconnected and reconnected with the wind was the cause all along. The repairman was sorry we had to replace the inside lines, but really, why fuss about new lines? Even if it did take 7 hours of labor by both of us to pull them. By the way, the nice young man also said, to call him directly if the service screwed up again in the next week. Of course, my dirty, tired, and slightly cynical hubby commented that he didn’t want us to report a faulty repair to the provider.

~~So, we’re finally in business again. Of course, just when we lay down to "rest," the phone rang.

~~Now we have to figure out the "check engine light" in the truck.

What Happens in the Book Store at Night

2012-01-10T13:02:00.000-05:00

~~Come on, you know you want to know what's up at night when all the customers and staff leave. Take a peek.

~~Did you see the Kindle? Now we know how all those lovely books get into our e-readers! ; )

Writing By Design...Or Not

2012-01-03T16:54:00.001-05:00

~~How do you write--linearly, chunks, or something entirely different? Do you use an outline or write as the story comes to you? Diana Gabaldon, award-winning, multiple NYT best-selling author writes in chunks without knowing the full story. Check out her current essay, "The Shape of Things" at the Books and Writers Forum.

~~When I started writing, I'd have sworn I was a linear, point A to point B type of writer and even have an outline for my current story. But things have a way of changing when you least expect it. ; ) I've written many separate scenes scattered here and there across the outline and the last third is solid.

~~And then I got blocked. Nothing I tried with the front of the story was working, but that's all changed now . The reason may surprise you. As I transferred the bits and pieces that reside in my Rough Draft file to Scrivener, I've been rereading...and my eyes have opened. Now that I know how the story ends, I know what the front two thirds of the story need to do. I'm excited again and the juices are flowing. The new plan is to write backwards. Really. ; ) My notes from the reread will guide me. So wish me luck.

~~Happy writing, everyone!

Grace for the New Year

2011-12-27T16:26:00.002-05:00

~~The turn of the year is always a time of introspection. Many of us look back at the past and consider our achievements and heartaches. But we also look forward and wonder what the future will bring--sometimes with trepidation and sometimes with anticipation.

~~Whatever your mood, I wish you all a Happy New Year and offer two songs for the season. The first is from Kevin Walsh of "Outlander--the Musical" fame.

~~The second is a link. Be sure to click on it, for it is an amazing rendition of the old hymn "Amazing Grace" sung by the Four Tenors while at the Coliseum.

AMAZING GRACE

~~May grace be with you all this new year.

Scrivener, By Golly!

2011-12-21T14:30:00.000-05:00

~~Have you read writers extolling the delights of Scrivener? To many, it's the ultimate writing tool that helps organize, combine, and link research into one easily accessible place.

~~Well, I've joined the ranks when I down loaded Scrivener for Windows in November. I'm discovering the bells and whistles now and have started moving my FRIENDLY FIRE files to it. So far, I'm creeping along with my hands out in front me in the dark, but I can see the usefulness and anticipate becoming one of the many telling you can't do without this program.

~~While I learn, I'm leaning on the info I've gathered from some writing buddies. Check out Claire's post on All the World's Our Page and Ron's post at the Books and Writers Forum.

And have a wonderful holiday season! May your celebration be bright and joyful.

Snow

2011-12-14T08:30:00.001-05:00

~~No, we don't have early snow in Georgia, but we did have the first measurable snow fall on Christmas Day last year and I'm hoping for a repeat. So I thought I'd add to the mood with a poem from January 2008. Hope you enjoy it. ; )

Snow

Born of a meeting of opposites,
It floats as feathers on the wind.
Settling into Earth's warm embrace,
It gives its moisture away as grace.

Falling faster as time goes by
Bringing its fellows, and it flies
Obscuring our view of air and ground,
Settling ever deeper, dampening sound.

Glowing blue-white and moonlit,
Lovely to see, but chilling the feet.
Cold and wind add their device
And it hardens and freezes into ice.

As the dawn breaks, clear and cold
A million diamonds greet the day
Glowing with the Sun's warm face,
It melts and leaves us edges of lace.

Reading the Classics

2011-12-07T09:18:00.000-05:00

~~How long has it been since you read the classic novels? When I got my Kindle, I realized that there are a lot of old classics available for free. I know, I know, you're going to say that that's what libraries are for. But my local library has a really strong air freshener and I'm allergic to it. I've returned many books after only a few pages because of it. I'm happy to use the Kindle for my catch up reading.

~~Here's a list of some I've read lately:

Ramona by Helen Hunt Jackson (The first adult novel I read way back when I was 11.)
Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte
The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexander Dumas the elder

~~I have the following on my Kindle waiting for me to read them:

The Three Musketeers by Alexander Dumas the younger
Anna Kaenina by Leo Tolstoy
Little Women by Louisa May Alcott
Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austin
Ivanhoe by Sir Walter Scott

~~Do you have some classics you'd like to read? What are they? Or do you find the older, slower starts hard to get into?

E-Book or Paper Book, That is the Question

2011-11-30T11:17:00.000-05:00

~~When I read Rachelle Gardner's post, E-books vs. Real Books, I thought I'd add my two cents. I like Rachelle's assessment that it isn't an "either/or" situation, but a "both/and" one. In fact, I think that's the way of the future.

~~I've had a Kindle since May and I love it. That doesn't mean I don't love paper books, too. I sit here surrounded by a large personal library, but I'm picking up fewer and fewer of the paper books. The reason is personal, too. I have trouble holding paper books open. My wrists just get too tired. So if I'm going to read at all, it has to be an e-book. Rachelle mentioned that readers are buying more books both electronic and paper. I'm an example. I've probably bought ten times the books I would have if I were still only buying paper books. We have transfered our newspaper subscription to the Kindle, too. That's really helped with the mounds of paper we use. And it's far cheaper. ; )

~~I also have a huge list of books to purchase for my Kindle that will transfer many of my favorites from the shelves to e-ink. And that's all good for the writers. ; ) And while I'm buying e-books for all my fiction, I'm still buying writing books in paper so I can take old-fashioned notes in the margins. The last such books is Volger's The Writer's Journey. I don't think the diagrams would show up as well on my Kindle.

~~So what about you? Are you on the e-book band wagon, or are you still buying all your books in paper?

Mystery Words

2011-11-23T17:33:00.002-05:00

~~After a week of very few words, imagine my surprise when 150 stray words popped into my head this morning. I have no clue why. They don't fit with anything I'm writing. I don't plan to write historical fiction, though that's the genre I think they would fit. The only thing that makes sense is that I did focus on European medieval history in college and my master's thesis is a biography of Blanche of Castile. But I never wanted to be Eleanor of Aquitaine.

~~Here are the mystery words:

When I was a girl, I wanted to be Eleanor of Aquitaine. Dashing troubadours would sing love songs to me. I'd be Queen of both France and England and own the richest province in Europe. Then I learned her whole story--about the civil wars between her sons and husband and that she spent sixteen years imprisoned by her husband, Henry.

But reading about Eleanor's life led me to her family and the little talked about daughters who married into the ruling families of the Holy Roman Empire, Toulouse, and Castile-Leon. It was among Eleanor's grandchildren that I found my true lodestone--Blanche of Castile, who married Louis Capet, destined to be Louis VIII of France. While it's true she would lose children before they were grown and her husband would die young, her life typified a woman of learning, justice, power, and grace. In Blanche, I found a guide for living life based on belief.

~~What do you think happened? And do you ever have mystery words showing up uninvited? Do they ever lead you into a new WIP?

~~There is one other bit you should know that my long-delayed SF trilogy (The Dawn and the lion)originated as a fictionalization (that's an understatement! ; ) of Blanche's life. It's moved a long way from it's origins now.

Blame it on the Season...

2011-11-18T15:05:00.000-05:00

~~Yes, I'm still here, but I've been busy. I've been rewriting the opening of FRIENDLY FIRE (several times) for this month's exercise at Books and Writers. Add to that the painting of windows, hanging of new blinds, and all around household chaos and you have a writer with no time.

~~So I thought I'd give you a lovely shot of my mother-in-law's ginkgo tree in all its Autumn glory. And a line to describe it. Enjoy. ; )

~~Autumn's leaves--The pot of gold at the end of Summer's rainbow
Have a great Thanksgiving if you're in the States.

Revision?

2011-10-29T15:47:00.000-04:00

~~What I know about revising a manuscript wouldn't fill a thimble. Some would say what I know about writing a draft of a novel would only fill two thimbles, but I do know good advice when I see it. Check out Tracy Hahn-Burkett's post on Writer Unboxed--"Macro-Revision: Take It One Piece at a Time" and let me know what you think about revising a manuscript.

~~Do you have any advice or ideas about how to organize the revision of a manuscript?

"Hello, Computer"

2011-10-21T13:10:00.001-04:00

~~Did you hear Mr. Scott, AKA the late, great James Doohan, say those words as you read the title? If you love all things Star Trek, you did. For the rest of you go HERE for a clip of that immortal line. ; )

~~Before you get worried about my sanity, let me tell you about my newest toy, Dragon NaturallySpeaking, an advanced speech recognition program. I've wanted to be able to dictate my writing for years. Lately, my wrists have made it a priority. I tried the built-in program that came with my Vista operating system, but it and my pronounced southern accent didn't get along. Dragon, on the other hand, allowed me to select American English and Southern Region during installation.

~~I'm very impressed even though I'm still learning to use it. can't go straight from brain to screen though. I've always had to draft longhand first, but once it's on paper, the dictation is easy. I'm sure can type a bit faster, but not for any length of time. Now I can just write without dreading typing. Who knows? I might even get 50,000 words written during November's NaNoWriMo.

~~ If you're interested, go to Nuance's website, and check it out. They've been running a sale, but I got it half price at my local Staples.

~~ Next on my must-have software list is Scrivener for Windows. According to the website the beta version runs out early in November. Here's hoping the full version is available soon.

Writers' Block--How to Break Them Up

2011-10-14T16:27:00.001-04:00

~~I know you've all heard of the dreaded malady, Writers' Block, and shudder in fear that it's out to get you. Well, thanks to Beth, one of my Books and Writers Forum friends, I'm found the neatest list of the different types of blocks, complete with suggestion to blow them out of your way. Check out "The 10 Types of Writers' Block (and How to Overcome Them)" at io9.

~~Here's the list. Be sure you check out the cures. I'll admit to falling prey to three of these regularly. ; )
1. You can't come up with an idea.

2. You have a ton of ideas but can't commit to any of them, and they all peter out.

3. You have an outline but you can't get through this one part of it.
That's me in a nutshell. I usually handle it by cutting the item from the outline or skipping over it and coming back later.

4. You're stuck in the middle and have no idea what happens next.

5. You have a terrible feeling your story took a wrong turn a hundred pages back, and you only just hit a dead end.

6. You're bored with all these characters, they won't do anything.

7. You keep imagining all the reasons people are going to say your story sucks, and it paralyzes you.
Oh, yeah! I do this one. Darn that Inner Critic, AKA Miss Inner Editor. ; )

8. You can't think of the right words for what you're trying to convey in this one paragraph.
Oh, yeah, this one, too. The neat thing about the suggestions is that it's all right to linger at least a little while. That's an eyeopener for me. ; )

9. You had this incredibly cool story in your head, and now you're turning it into words on a screen and it's suddenly dumb.

10. You're revising your work, and you can't see your way past all those blocks of text you already wrote.

~~So which of these problems blocks your words? What do you think about the suggestions for handling them?

Magic

2011-10-06T12:03:00.002-04:00

~~I know I keep talking about the September Exercises at the Book and Writers Forum with awe, but it's deserved. There are thirty questions to answer about a character. It might look simple, but it's a deceptive simplicity that hides a wealth of discovery. Try it. That's all I can say. Try it if you're stuck on the motives behind some of your characters' actions. Try it if you find yourself blocked on what comes next. Just try it.

~~During September I did the exercise with Paul Collins, the main character of a short story I'm working on. I thought I knew what made the man tick. I had no clue. My story is infinitely richer now.

~~Now I'm using with questions with the main character of my WIP. I've been writing Laura Grace Chandler's POV since March 2008. You'd think I knew her voice inside and out by now. Not. I'm only to question 6 and she's opening in ways I couldn't have imagined. Here's a snip.

Who is the most important person in your character's life right now?

The most important person in my life was Samantha. Not two months ago, I'd have said it was Tom. Even though he is dead. I knew what that meant. I'd chosen to live not to mourn. It had been a subtle choice, one I hadn't consciously made. But I'd made it. Just as sure as the sun rose each day or the seasons shifted. Now I was connected to the girl, even though I'd only seen her twice and talked to her once. We had sung together. Warmth flooded my chest. Yes. That was when I'd made the choice. During Amazing Grace. Once I was blind to the opportunities my life held, and now I saw. Oh, yes. Now I could see.

~~Do you have cherished methods to get into the heart of your characters?

Campaign Musings

2011-10-02T15:02:00.000-04:00

~~What is it about campaigns that make me want to redesign my blog? ; ) I think it's seeing all the fabulous designs among the campaigners that just spark my creative juices. I did a new one yesterday, but I don't think it's set in stone yet.

~~Have you read all the fabulous entries in the Second Challenge yet? What a wonderful collection of great writing! I've only gotten to about a third of the 186 (so far) entries. Thank goodness it can't grow any more after Tuesday. Maybe I'll finish... ; )

~~I have to apologize to the members of my two groups. I haven't been coming around nearly enough. I have had a bumper crop of words in September. Mainly it's due to the September Writers Exercise at the Books and Writers Forum. If you've never visited the Forum, you owe it to yourself. It's my go to place for challenges, critiques, lessons, and camaraderie. Besides, if you love Diana Gabaldon books, you'll love the Diana Gabaldon folder at B & W. ; )

~~So watch this space for more redesigns and more praise for Forum.

Review: DON'T GET MAD, GET EVEN

2011-09-29T16:40:00.000-04:00

What choices do you have when you are abused, cheated on and left with a trail of broken promises? Don’t Get Mad…Get Even. Take an inside look at Jamaican culture and lifestyle through a collection of award-winning stories. You will laugh, cry and commiserate with a compelling cast of characters, who conquer their challenges in unique ways.

~~J. L. Campbell's award-winning story collection not only introduces readers to a series of characters who have difficult roads to travel, but also introduces many aspects of Jamaican culture. While you might not agree with the actions of the point of view characters, the well-written stories tell the origins of their motives in vivid images.

J.L. Campbell lives in Jamaica and is always on the hunt for story-making material. She writes romantic suspense, women's fiction and young adult novels.

J. L. blogs at The Character Depot. Her books are available at Smashwords.
Check out Amazon for info on her other books: Dissolution and Contraband

Second Campaign Challenge--THE GHOST'S IMAGO

2011-09-22T15:55:00.004-04:00

So here goes! My entry is a poem. Who knows why the target words caused this! It's 62 words. ; ) (I'm linky #33.)
(Edited to add: Someone asked for a link to the voting, so here it is. LINK )
The Ghost’s Imago

He knew it was time--
Time to go beyond
When the maggots flew
And his miasma dissipated.
His body sank into
A lacuna, a missing space,
Where only his bones
Would remain to oscitate.

He marveled at Life and Death’s
Synchronicity
As he moved on to begin anew
With discovery of
His new destination--
A mirror of his past.

Racheal has given us a big challenge this time:

The Challenge is:

Write a blog post in 200 words or less, excluding the title. It can be in any format, whether flash fiction, non-fiction, humorous blog musings, poem, etc. The blog post should:
include the word "imago" in the title

include the following 4 random words: "miasma," "lacuna," "oscitate," "synchronicity,"

If you want to give yourself an added challenge (optional and included in the word count), make reference to a mirror in your post.

For those who want an even greater challenge (optional), make your post 200 words EXACTLY!

Once you’ve posted your Challenge post on your blog, pop back here and link directly to it in the Linky List below (please make sure you include the direct link to your post, not just the link to your blog!).

I've again set up the Linky List to let you "Like" entries, so make sure you come back here and vote. Winners this Challenge will be determined solely on the basis of your votes. This is an honor system, so please don't take advantage of this process either on your own or another's behalf. "Like" voting will close on Friday, October 14th.

Review: CLOSED CIRCUIT

2011-09-20T17:38:00.001-04:00

One of the best things about getting to know writers at the Books and Writers Forum is that you know their books will be wonderful reads. Marte Brengle's Closed Circuit is a perfect example.

Set in Lyric, Iowa, Closed Circuit is full of small town charms and heartaches with its kind-hearted people and its scoundrels. The intricate plot is full of mystery and life and will keep you turning the pages. You'll love the fully realized characters and will cheer them on as they navigate the changes in their lives.

Here's the blurb from Amazon:
Ruth Peyton is sure she has everything she needs. Her own business, a mentor, a great circle of friends, and Lyric, her lifelong home town. And then, one hot summer day, everything changes. Who are these strangers who have come to Lyric to buy Ruth's building as the first step in their mysterious plan? Will they control Lyric's future-and Ruth's? And now someone from her past is determined to draw Ruth back into a painful relationship she thought she'd put behind her. Can she make peace with the past in time to save her home town from the radical alterations that lie ahead? Or is there nothing left for her but to leave Lyric for good?

Be sure to get this book! Marte Brengle's second novel, Dutchman's Puzzle, is also available now.

Emotional Stages of Writing a Novel

2011-09-14T16:11:00.003-04:00

~~If you haven't figured it out by now, I'll let you in on a little secret...
I'm bogged down at the moment. Too much to do and too little energy make me very bad at connecting with all the lovely writers in the Campaign. I really planned to get to at all my groups at least once a week. I'm not doing so well at that. So, I'll give you a lovely little clip to watch--The Emotional Stages of Writing a Novel. Enjoy! ; )

Decisions--First Campaign Challenge

2011-09-05T22:31:00.003-04:00

~~The first Platform Challenge is here! And it's a challenge and a half. The instrustions are:

Write a short story/flash fiction story in 200 words or less, excluding the title. It can be in any format, including a poem. Begin the story with the words, “The door swung open” These four words will be included in the word count.

If you want to give yourself an added challenge (optional), use the same beginning words and end with the words: "the door swung shut." (also included in the word count)

For those who want an even greater challenge, make your story 200 words EXACTLY!
Check out Rach Writes for links to other Campaigners' stories.

~~Here's my challenge story--Decisions--and it's EXACTLY 200 words. ; )

Decisions

The door swung open.

Lights. Sirens. Screams.

“Oh My God!”

“Is he dead?”

“He just slammed into that tree!”

A man’s face forced him to focus. “Buddy, we’ll get you out. Hang on.”

Whump. Whump. Whump.

“LifeFlight’s here.”

“Good. Okay, buddy, we’ll get you out of here. Hang on.”

Then everything faded out.

“Paul. Paul. Do you hear me?”

Beep, beep, beep.

Pressure squeezed his arm and then released with a whoosh.

His mouth was dry, clotted. “Uh?”

A tall woman in green scrubs leaned over him and smiled. “Hi, Paul. Good to see you awake. It’s going to take a while, but you’ll get better. You’ll see.”

Weeks. It took weeks, but he finally pieced it together. He’d been drinking, but he wasn’t more than buzzed when Harm had texted him about the card game. Yes. A card game. In a flash, he’d decided to go. Then hit a tree.

Now it was all over. He’d hit a plateau in his healing, and he’d be stuck with that decision for the rest of his life. Traumatic Brain Injury.

Any decision he’d make in the future got up and walked out of the door.

The door swung shut.

P.S. I'm linky 118 at Rach Writes

Roadblocks and Detours

2011-08-30T17:35:00.001-04:00

AKA: Plot twists wrecked by reality

~~Have you found that one of your long-planned (and fully drafted) plot twists just can't be? Of course, this is a question for those of us who write reality-based stories i.e. contemporary or historical vs. fantasy and SF. I think the last two genre allow, for more creative license.

~~That's what's happened to me recently. You'd think I'd be wailing and gnashing my teeth or, at least, tearing up, but I'm not. Really. I'm quite happy with this turn of events. I think that somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew the plot point that developed from this newly abandoned twist just couldn't happen that way. And now I know why.

~~What caused this outbreak of reality and the new, truth-based twist I'm now planning? Through a quirk of coincidence, I've been introduced to a current Department of Family and Children Services caseworker. She was thrilled to let me interview her and her reality-based information has created my shift in plot. Let's just say, I'm happy, excited, and plotting up a storm.

~~How to you handle this sort of plot upheaval? Tears or gratitude?

Terra Incognita

2011-08-23T20:40:00.002-04:00

~~I know I've haven't been around much lately, but I promise I've been writing and I now find myself in a new place, one I've never experienced in my writing before. It's a whole new world and I'm still trying to get my feet under me and find myself on the map. Like the mariners of old, I'm wondering what sort of monsters I'll find and where the edges are.

~~I don't really write from an outline, but I do have a list of possible scenes in rough chronological order for my current work-in-progress, FRIENDLY FIRE. I write where ever the mood of the day strikes, or as Diana Gabaldon describes it, what I can see. In the last few weeks, though, I've been able to complete the first page of my scene list. Since I have the last page of the outline done already, that leaves me with the middle page, much of which I've never been able to see well enough to even take rough notes. Terra Incognita indeed! I'm feeling my way into the big middle of the plot and so far, so good. I have a plan for how to show the good and the bad that knits the start of the story to the end. Keep your fingers crossed.

~~Here's to opportunities you might be interested in:

If you'd be interested in submitting a story to Good Old-Fashioned E-Publishing Company's "Plot Beasties" anthology, go HERE for more info. I'm happy to say that my submission, "Of Books and Bunnies," is in the editing stage with editor/publisher Ron Wodaski.
Rachael Harrie has launched her Third Writers' Platform Building Campaign HERE. The second campaign was a hoot and a big boost for my blog, so come and join us. You have to sign up before August 31.

~~I'll be here more often, I promise. Keep cool in the Shade.

Lightning

2011-08-08T12:54:00.000-04:00

"God only exhibits his thunder and lightning at intervals, and so they always command attention. These are God's adjectives. You thunder and lightning too much; the reader ceases to get under the bed."

~~Mark Twain

~~If you're as amazed by that quote as I am, you are looking at it and wondering just when on earth do you use adjectives? And adverbs for that matter. We've all heard the writing rule to cut adjectives and adverbs and "use stronger verbs and concise nouns." So I have a question for you--where do you get those stronger verbs and concise nouns? Is there a nifty little list we can consult or is it trial and error, learning by doing?

~~I'm a bit tongue in cheek, but sometimes I do find it hard to find the right word that makes the sentence say what I need it to say and cut to the bone of the topic at hand. Of course, Mark Twain has a quote for that, too.

"The difference between the almost right word and the right word is really a large matter--it's the difference between the lightning bug and the lightning."

~~So happy hunting, my fellow word sleuths. ; )

Farewell, Darling Scenes!

2011-07-21T13:34:00.000-04:00

~~There come a time when you have to admit defeat; when scene you've slaved over and cried about, refuses to get in line and march properly into its place in your plot. It's always a scene that you think is an absolute necessity to bolster your theme, define your character, or reveal some deep, dark secret. And yet, it refuses to open its heart and sing. I've been working on two such scenes since February. If I'm honest, I'll admit that these two scenes have tortured me for over two years.

~~It took a great post on Letting Go by Jen at All the World's Our Page to to make me wake up the the truth. So join with me in saying a fond farewell to "South Pacific" and "Samantha's Essay." I've mined the key discoveries and found more natural places for them. In fact, on my reread this morning of the newly reconstituted "Cherry Beach" scene, I was amazed that I'd not seen this before now. I've learned my lesson. When the next thorny scene refuses to be beaten into submission, I won't be as slow to cut the little darling and re-imagine the whole thing. I know my WIP will be better for the lesson.

~~What about you? Do you have some scenes that won't behave? What do you do with them--cut or keep plugging along until they submit?

~~Happy writing! ; )

Sweet, Cute, and Productive

2011-07-09T13:49:00.002-04:00

~~In the last two weeks, I've been very occupied with the Mall at the End of Time House Party at the Book and Writers Forum. I thought you needed an update.

I've written 14,000 words
Learned who Alex Singer is (more on that in a bit)
Gotten way behind on my awards (see below)
And submitted "Tea With My Inner Editor" to a magazine. Keep your fingers crossed.

~~Now for the full report of Alex Singer. I'll add a bit I posted on the HP denouement thread:

When we started two weeks ago, I knew that Alex Singer was the son of Mack Singer and Sandra Roberts, that she never told Mack about Alex, that he showed up in Mack's life shortly after he marries Laura Grace, and then deploys to Afghanistan. I knew he would have TBI and come to live with my Cherry Hill family with all the problems of integrating a new family member with disabilities. I'd written no scenes with Alex in them. Now I know who he is, how he will respond to the care and love of his family, how hard it will be to accept his condition and learn to live again. Not to mention that he will learn to love as well. With all the revelations I've learned, I can mine how Alex will learn to accept love, give love, heal, and realize he is still the young man who was willing to die for his country.

~~Seriously Cute Blogger and Irresistibly Sweet Blog Award

Thanks to Deniz, one of my House Party buddies, I have two new awards.

Seriously Cute--I need to list five books/ TV programs/ films I've experienced in the last twelve months. Are you kidding? Only five? I thought I'd do five authors instead:

~~Stieg Larsson's Millennium trilogy
~~Lois McMaster Bujold's Challion trilogy
~~Catherine Asaro's Skolian Empire series (13 books)
~~Sara Gruen's Water for Elephants
~~Sue Monk Kidd's The Secret Life of Bees

There are others, but I'll stop at five.

Irresistibly Sweet--I need to list seven random facts

Max has started barking at the rotating photos I use for my screen saver--especially when one of him and Casey pops up.
When my momma, sister, and I went on a long ride together in June, we discussed our old boyfriends. Really. It was fun, too.
We put our huge Norfolk Island Pine on the deck for the summer. It's secretly a transformer. When wet, it's conical shaped and when dry, its cantilevered limbs lift again.
I've picked up four new followers lately. Thank you!
I'm about 60% done with the rough draft of FRIENDLY FIRE. ; )
It's too hot! We've had 24 days of 90+ degrees in June. July is following in line with the possibility of triple digits next week.
My husband has washed and waxed both the car and truck in the last two days.

There was a tag somewhere in the last month and I can't remember who tagged me. Nor can I remember the 7 funny questions except for the "Are you hot?" I think #6 answers that one.

~~Now to pass on these awards:
Here's the people who have commented on my last blog post:

Mary Mary
JillyBean
Another Author
Madeline Bartos
And the lovely Charlotte Rains Dixon who I owe for "Tea With My Inner Editor"

Have a great day, everyone! ; )

The Mall at the End of Time--Play With a Purpose

2011-07-03T16:14:00.000-04:00

~~I know you think I've fallen off the end of the Earth, but I've been busy. Really! I've been writing a lot just not here in the Shade. My buddies at the Books and Writers Forum have gotten a new House Party off the ground and I'm participating. I can think of no better place to practice writing. The members are great critique partners and we love each other's work. A house party is a specific setting created by one of the members so that multiple writers can bring characters from their works in progress. We create long, involved story lines that can sometimes cross over and have characters in more than one place.

~~Our current setting is The Mall at the End of Time, created by Ron Wadaski. Go HERE for the warm up party. Warning: We are talking Armageddon consequences that must be foiled by a combination of characters including mine, Alex Singer. In warm ups we let anything hit the fan in order to get our fingers, brains, and words going. This time is no exception.

~~Since Friday, July 1, we have shifted into the official party--HERE. Our theme is Warriors and Lovers with an underpinning of fear. Believe me, every character has something to fear.

~~I've written 10,000 words in the warm up and I've already written 780 in the official House Party. Who knows where I'll end up. All I know is that I will know who Alexander Singer is when I'm done. When I need him in LINE OF FIRE, Cherry Hill Book 2, I'll be ready. ; )

How a Writing Mind Works--Kernels

2011-06-22T14:54:00.001-04:00

~~Writers are asked, "How do you do it? How do you get your ideas? How do you write?" all the time. Sometimes we can't really tell what caused a specific scene, but at other times, it is quite clear. Lately I've been experimenting with what Diana Gabaldon calls "kernel writing." Read her description HERE. In the past, I've not been the most adept at getting these little bits down as they occur and I'm sure some of the very best have gotten away from me.

~~Now that I have Inner Editor entertained and distracted, I've been having more and more kernel moments. Today there were two specific instances. One was not a real surprise--it dealt with a scene I've been working on for FRIENDLY FIRE. The other was completely out of the blue. It deals with an idea that has been bugging me for years with THE DAWN AND THE LION. I've known how the military saluted their superiors in the chain of command for over two decades. It really never made much sense and at times, I've tried to change it, to no avail. Today I found out the symbolism behind the salute.

~~I have been rereading Catherine Asaro's SKOLIAN EMPIRE series and the method of salute kept standing out.
"The officers saluted, raising their arms to chest height, outstretched with fists clenched, crossing their wrists with the snap of muscled skin hitting muscled skin." (THE RADIENT SEAS p. 274)

~~Then I had a clear scene to pop up in my mind that explained the salute and moves plot along nicely. The POV character is Canda Aurora, the female protagonist. Even without knowing all that goes before or comes after, I think this kernel will illustrate how my mind was working this morning. Note that the general mentioned has no specific name yet, so X stands in its place. I hope you enjoy.

A chill walked up my spine. August was dead. No one had to tell me. No one needed to share their grief with me. Mine was larger than the three worlds. Larger than a human heart could survive.

General X, the chief of staff, second in command stood before me. "My Lady Regent." His hand rose sharply and he touched the center of his forehead with his fingers. I'd seen the salute a thousand times since I came to Patria. A salute to Brennan, to August and now to me. No matter how I grieved, I had responsibility. For General X's salute said it all--My mind is yours to command. The chill became a blizzard.

~~How do your scenes come to you? Do you find inspiration in what you read or do they develop from outlines?

Tea With My Inner Editor

2011-06-17T10:39:00.004-04:00

~~I owe the following conversation to Charlotte Rains Dixon. She offered free, fifteen-minute coaching sessions on her blog last week. Knowing I needed help to shut my inner editor up, I jumped on the offer. Among the wonderful suggestions was this one—have a discussion with your inner editor. Picture them. Talk to them. Explain their roles in your writing. This clicked with me. I don’t know if your inner editor is male or female, human, elf, or fairy, but mine is me.

~~If you are wondering how on earth I could have a photo of my younger self dressed as a 1950s school teacher, there’s a story behind it. Of course. ; ) When I was in high school, we had a 50s dress-up day. I borrowed an old suit from my momma, twisted my waist-length hair into a tight bun, and painted my lips and nails scarlet. And guess who won? That’s right—me. The teachers who judged the contest loved being reminded what their teachers looked like in the 50s.
~~So without any further ado, here’s "Tea With My Inner Editor"

###

It was a shock to see her sitting on the floral wing-backed chair, hands folded primly in her lap. The tight little smile painted in Revlon Million Dollar Red was so unlike her usual scowl. The dark brown hair as the same—a tightly rolled bun at the nape of her neck. The same white handkerchief and pink lilies of the valley adorned the severe, tight, black suit. I’d never seen her in a different outfit. Never.

     "Would you like some tea, Miss?" My voice squeaked. If I didn’t find a way to settle my nerves this chance to set things right would be for naught. And somewhere deep inside I knew it was the only chance I had to get my writing off square one.

     "That would be nice, dear."

     I was puzzled. It didn’t sound like her voice. There was no censure, no reprimand. Just ultimate politeness.

     "It’s sweet of you to ask." The small leather pump tapped twice.

     Swallowing hard, I asked, "Darjeeling or Earl Grey?"

     "Oh, the Earl unless you have some of Old Wilmington’s Lord John Grey." Her voice trailed off, a brow raised in question.

     She reads Diana Gabaldon’s books? I couldn’t picture her reading the life and loves of my favorite characters, Jamie and Claire. That didn’t seem possible, but only a fan would know about that tea. "Uh…no. If the Earl will do?"

     "Of course, dear."

     Her hands were still clenched tightly as I gently placed my prize teapot on the low table. I’d pay for the Earl Grey with hives, but it was worth it if we could come to terms.

     "I asked you here to visit when I didn’t have a pen in my hand for a reason." My cup rattled against the saucer. My nerves staged a new assault and tightened my throat.

     "Yes, dear? I assumed there was a reason." Irony made her voice resonant.

     "Well, you see—"

     "Get to the point, dear. Or I’ll have to get out my red pen." The toe was tapping again.

     Swallowing the lump, I blurted, "You’re blocking my writing. I’ll never finish Laura Grace’s story much less ever have a hope of really starting Canda’s. You never let me finish a sentence without that hectoring voice in my ear. ‘No adverbs. Choose a stronger verb. Every sentence in that paragraph is in the subject-verb pattern and in the one before, they all started with a gerund clause.’ Or if that’s not enough, you remind me that a first person narrator never notices herself grin or frown and you snarl, ‘Your body language is a cliché and your setting is non-existent!’"

     I paused to catch my breath and looked up at her. The golden-brown eyes were wide with shock behind her wire-rimmed glasses. A tear gathered in the corner of her eye.

     Brows drawn down, she looked at her clenched hands, knuckles white with stress. "All I ever wanted was to see you succeed, dear. I didn’t know. Truly I didn’t." Her voice was thick with unshed tears.

     "Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, Miss Editor. Really, I didn’t. And I do need you. It’s just you get in the way when I’m writing my rough draft. It’s stifling, actually." The shiny head rose a bit and a smile tugged at the ruby lips. "And yes. I’m used nearly every ‘ly’ word I can think of and ‘just’ in nearly every sentence, but, Miss Editor, I need you to understand—I’ve got to have room to maneuver when I’m drafting or I’m never going to complete a sentence much less a novel." My whine grated on my ears, but she had to see.

     "Could you…" I wracked my brains and then a light sparked to life. "Could you take tea and read Outlander while I’m drafting. Just until I have a draft that needs editing…"

     A flicker of hope lit my heart as her little smile grew. A delicate sip later, the smile became a warming sun, rising on a new day. "Yes, dear. That would be lovely. I’ve missed Jamie and Claire." The smile grew into a wicked grin. "In fact, I might just let my hair down." She reached up and released the tightly wound bun. A cascade of silky brown fell over her shoulders. "Yes, just let me know when I’m needed." Her toes kicked out of the tight shoes. And she unbuttoned the jacket. "I think I need a break right now. If that’s all right with you."

###

~~So now I know what to do when I need to write—tell Miss Inner Editor to get a cup of Lord John Grey and visit Jamie and Claire.

~~What do you do to get your inner editor to be quiet?

~~P.S. Miss Editor didn’t take her red pen to this. Something about a certain masterful scene at Castle Leoch…

~~P.P.S. If you don’t know what scene I’m referring to, go get a copy of Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander immediately and follow it up with all the rest of the series. I dare you to read 100 pages and stop. ; )

The Writer's Bestiary--A Poem

2011-06-12T17:14:00.000-04:00

~~I write poetry from time to time and thought I'd share my latest one. It came from a discussion on the Books and Writers Forum about writing woes and what our tears do. I have to thank Ron Wodaski and Deniz Bevan for some of the images. Ron's blog is HERE and Deniz's is HERE.

The Writer’s Bestiary

I crouch in a desolate, desert waste
Of dry words without life or form or taste.
Then my muse appears to sit at my feet,
Her hand cupping, catching my tears;
Her smile wild and sweet.

“Dear One,
Each drop you weep holds
    oceans of healing, and
    balm for those you seek.
In my hand I hold the cure
    for word count dragonflies,
    each wing made complete.
They water the hummingbirds who fly,
    knitting your scenes together
    unfolding your plot to the sky.
When your characters refuse their names,
    your tears ease the roly-polies’ fears,
    and soften the beetle’s hard shell,
    where their hearts hide so well.
And as your tears overflow on
    caterpillar, cocoon, and butterfly,
    setting becomes focused and clear.
Choked throats, full of dialog are freed
    as your tears tend the songbird’s wing,
    allowing it once again to fly and sing.

“So cry, Dear One.
Your tears are not shed in vain.
Use them to write your story once again.”

I've Been Tagged! and You Really Like Me--I Think...

2011-06-07T13:14:00.001-04:00

Meme!

I was tagged by Deniz. I don't think it's good to tag you right back, so I'll just say thanks. You mentioned the Cherry Hill Houseparty from last summer. I just realized yesterday that this time last year, I was working hard to prepare to host all you lovely writers! It's only been a year and yet it seems like ages ago. Then we spent the fall in Istanbul. What's next?

Here's the questions I had to answer:
1. Do you think you're hot? Of course! It is summer in Georgia, isn’t it?

2. Upload a picture or wallpaper you're using at the moment.

3. When was the last time you ate chicken meat? Today.

4. A song you listened to recently: “Down to the River to Pray” It counts if I was singing it at the time, doesn’t it?

5. What were you thinking as you were doing this? How blasted HOT it is! Is the air conditioning working?

6. Do you have nicknames? What are they? ARRGHHH! I hate this question! I hate all my nicknames. The only one I’ll tell is the one I gave myself—Zanna Maria. So there!

7. Tag eight bloggers:

Marie at The Flying Cheetah

S. P. Bowers

Laura at Heaven to Earth

Diana and Mary at WOOF

Tara at The Feel of Something New

Carol at Nietzsche I'm Not

Denise at L'Aussie Writing

Rachael at Rach Writes

8. A few questions about your tagged friends...

Who's listed as number one? Marie, the Flying Cheetah and the expert at 100-word movie reviews

Say something about number 5. Tara is a great writing buddy. We love sharing crits. I want your books out so I can hold them in my hands, Tara!

How did you get to know number 3? Laura is in my local crit group—Carrollton Creative Writers Club—and she’s a heck of a writer. Laura, you wanted to know how this platform building works, so now you know. ; )

How about number 4? The ladies at WOOF—Mary and Diana—are excellent writers and lovely friends. Be sure and check out their Women Only Over Fifty blog if you like humor.

Leave a message for number 6. Carol, you’re a wonderful writer. Thanks for asking me to write about the lessons my momma taught me.

Leave a lovey-dovey message for number 2. I love you for offering to be a beta reader for FRIENDLY FIRE. How much more validation can I ask for? Thanks from the bottom of my heart.

Do number 7 and number 8 have any similarities? Denise and Rachael are experts at creating writing platforms. Everything I know, I learned from them.

And hey what about number 9? No fair! You said list 8!!! Okay, I’ll add Charlotte just because she's so good.

You Really Like Me--I think...

I couldn't resist channeling a little Sally Fields. ; ) At least 18 people do. Did any of you notice the new like button I added on the left? I think I did it correctly, but every time I try to link to my author page, it goes to my Utilities page not my wall. Would some of you lovely people try it--and LIKE me while you do--and let me know if it works. ; )

Inspiration and Imagination--It Takes Two to Tango

2011-06-03T16:54:00.001-04:00

INSPIRATION is the inhaling of the memory of an act never experienced. ~ Ned Rorem

IMAGINATION is the liquid solution in which art develops the snapshots of reality ~ Cyril Connolly

~In the June issue of THE WRITER, Bharti Kirchner used these quotes to begin the cover article "The Germ of an Idea." The quotes captured my heart and mind immediately. They're the perfect definitions of two important concepts that fuel our creative forces. The article continues with sixteen published writers of fiction and nonfiction describing how inspiration and imagination have worked in their careers. From Sue Grafton and Elizabeth George to Greg Bear and Elizabeth Lyon, these writers open a window into their process.

~After I read the article, I couldn't help it. I had to peel apart the inspiration and imagination that sparked the two works-in-progress (WIP) that I work on the most. I thought I'd share.

FRIENDLY FIRE
~It may sound like a cliche, but the inspiration for this WIP did come to me in a very vivid dream. In March 2008, I woke from a morning nap (no comments, please ; ) with this image in my mind--A eleven or twelve-year-old girl leaned against a low stage in a crowded church fellowship hall. Her golden curls framed a fully made-up face, complete with eyeshadow, liner, and mascara. I looked out of the eyes of an older woman whose heart was immediately hooked by what was obviously a child in pain. I had no clue who they were, what had happened, or why they were in a room full of little children. It didn't matter. The image stayed with me all day as I completed a long list of errands. The story unfolded as I went from one job to the next. By nightfall, I knew the woman's name and that she was a recently widowed, retired teacher with no children of her own. The girl was an abused foster child named Samantha and the children in the room were all foster children. That's all it took to launch my contemporary, mainstream novel, FRIENDLY FIRE.

THE DAWN AND THE LION
~This story's origins may be even stranger than the one above. I've read science fiction for decades. It's a genre both John and I love, so it's not really surprising that I have a SF WIP. What makes it surprising is that I have no background in science. My field is history. The story is based on the life of a thirteenth century French queen. Really. ; ) My master's thesis is a biography of Blanche of Castile. Her life was full of the political intrigue and family drama that characterizes the Medieval history of England, France, and Spain. Her maternal grandparents were Henry II of England and Eleanor of Aquitaine and she married Louis (VIII) "the Lion" Capet. Their son, Louis IX, is now known as Saint Louis. My WIP takes Blanche's life story and translates it into the life of Princess Canda Aurora of Shardonia. With near light-speed travel and tachyon pulse communications, my three planets interact much like Medieval Europe's England, France, and Spain--with a few changes along the way. I think Canda's story has great potential, but don't hold your breath--I've worked on this one for over twenty-five years.

~I'd love to know what fuels your WIPs. Where do you get your inspiration and what spurs your imagination?

Still Having Snafus

2011-05-27T09:46:00.002-04:00

~~It's a conspiracy. I swear it! Since late Wednesday evening, I've not been able to post comments on certain blogs. Every time I hit post, blogger signs me out and when I sign in again, I'm anonymous. It's getting frustrating. I've updated my browser and adding a new blog post. Hope that helps. Cross your fingers.

ETA: Where did my followers go? You're not shown even though the widget is still in place. I've notices it's missing at other blogs too. Could that be the problem? More to think about.

ETA Saturday May 28: There is a work around for the commenting problem. When you get signed out, be sure to unclick the "keep me signed in" box. For some reason it's working opposite of what is says. I'm now able to comment anywhere. But my followers are still missing.

Your Job for Today--Back-Up that Blog!

2011-05-23T11:05:00.000-04:00

~~In the last couple of weeks, we've seen what happens when Blogger has a problem. We lose content and comments. I had no clue that I could back-up my blog (yep, I'm a techno-dunce ; ) until today. Rachael Harrie posted on how to back up your template on her blog, Rach Writes. Be sure to check it out and follow through. She also posted a link to Clarissa Draper blog post on how to save your blog content HERE with the added caution to email the files to yourself for online storage. I've done both this morning.

~~Many of my first posts were the usual, ordinary life with photos, but now that I'm writing about writing more, I'm glad I've got the back-ups. You never know when you'll need the material. So get busy--your assignment today is back-up that blog.

~~And if you already knew how to do this, you may gloat...but what I want to know is why you didn't tell me how to do it! ; )

What Happened to Your Voice?

2011-05-19T08:46:00.000-04:00

~~A writer's voice is that distinctive vocabulary, cadence, and combination that marks one writer from another. We struggle to find our own personal voice at times and the newer we are to writing the harder it is.

~~I think it might be like the woman I saw on the news this week. For weeks, her voice was a strangled whisper. Doctors tried antibiotics, antihistamines, and steroids to not effect. She couldn't shake what had stolen her distinctive words of love for her husband and children. Her giggle was gone. She learned to wake her children with an inarticulate banging on their bedroom doors. Until a specialist examined her. He began a throat massage. Fifteen minutes of stroking the muscles around her voice box awoke the words, the sounds that were distinctly hers. The treatment was so deceptively simple. A sneaky cold virus had settled in her voice box and her muscles had tightened until her voice was cut off.

~~What about us? What strangles our writer voices. Is it an unconscious mimicking of our favorite author? Or the fear that our words are too simplistic and uneducated? What about the worry that our story is dull or that we can't convey what plays out in our heads?

~~I've been told that the only solution is to write. Write often. Write anything. Just write. What do you think? How do you find your voice?

SNAFUs Are the Norm

2011-05-14T08:50:00.000-04:00

~~I'm sure if you use Blogger, you already know about the snafu this week. During maintenance, they had to restore the system in a "read only" state. Blogsites lost both posts and comments. As time goes by, Blogger hopes to restore all the data.

~~All I can say is that I lost no posts only because I hadn't posted any. ; ) A bad head cold and a computer screen do not mix well. I don't know about comments. If you tried to comment on my last post and it got lost, sorry I didn't comment back.

~~If you were wondering about the word SNAFU, it's an acronym from World War II. The other one I've heard is FUBAR. The words they stand for aren't PG rated. ; ) I have a feeling the folks at Blogger said a few such words this week.

My Momma Had Words With Me

2011-05-08T08:14:00.001-04:00

~~It's Mother's Day here in the States and in Australia. I wanted to post a little essay I wrote last winter. My buddy Carole at Nietzche I'm Not was planning a book titled LESSONS I LEARNED FROM MY MOTHER and asked me to submit. Unfortunately the anthology didn't come to pass, but I do have a great little piece that tells one reason my mother is so special to me. I hope you enjoy it.

#####

I don’t know if it’s true anywhere else, but in the South, to “have words with” someone means to fuss, argue, or reprimand. My momma had another purpose for having words with me, for me, and around me. We didn’t discuss why people read or why it was important. My siblings and I just read. The power, magic, and glory of words surrounded us. No lectures were needed. No punishment was forthcoming to make us read. It was second nature to read. After all, our parents read in front of us every day. Momma focused on fiction while Daddy read the newspaper, biographies, and his professional journals.

So, it was all Momma’s fault that my father-in-law was shocked when my daddy built bookshelves that covered half the walls in our study from the floor to ten-foot ceiling. With wide eyes, he said, “No one has that many books!”

My husband shrugged. “She does. Everyone in her family does.” He knew there would be no wasted space in our study.

It was Momma’s fault that we take delight in words. She gave us no choice in the matter. From the time we were toddlers, we all had library cards and joined the summer reading program at the regional library branch in our home town. Every week, we checked out five books. All the librarians knew us by name.

How do you feed a growing reading habit? Momma knew. She made sure there were books to read that challenged us. She made reading more books fun and expected. When our abilities to read outstripped our ages and we needed bigger, more complex books, Momma checked out adult books for us on her own library card. As the school librarian at my elementary school, she found harder and harder books for me to read when I had read everything at the lower levels. I clearly remember reading Ramona by Helen Hunt Jackson in the fifth grade. It was my first adult novel and I’ll never forget holding the large book and being carried away into old California by the words.

In time, my siblings and I found our own preferred genres. When given a list of three hundred books for college-bound students in the 1960’s, we attacked it from different angles. The fact that the complete works of Shakespeare and the great Greek historians were available in our home, made it easy to get started. My sister loves literature. My brother has a taste for biography, science, history, and adventure books. I read history, fiction of all types, and poetry.

As voracious readers, we are the people who keep bookstores—large, small and online—in business. We are the people who always have up-to-date library cards. Our to-be-read lists of new books and old favorites are extensive. None of us is bored as long as there is something to read. And that isn’t likely to happen if we live a thousand years.

It’s Momma’s fault that there is a longstanding family joke about the end of civilization. If an asteroid or other near extinction event occurred, our combined libraries would form the basis for restarting science, math, history, and literature. We could quickly raise man’s knowledge back to its former heights.

The majesty and beauty of the words I grew up with created the desire to shape and form my own stories, to create new adventures, new people to meet, and new places to go. Momma encouraged me. She kept the poetry I wrote as an eight years old. Her simple acceptance made no obstacle insurmountable. Her faith that I could do anything I wanted allowed me to experiment and try different styles. She not only taught me to love words, but the persistence it takes to shape, order, and arrange them in coherent ways. When she gave me the love of words, she gave me the tools to accomplish what I desired to do. She gave me the ability to tell stories that soothe hurts, inspire challenges, and entertain. My mother gave me life—physically, mentally, and emotionally. She gave me dreams and encouraged me to strive to reach for them. My mother gave me words to share and the persistence to achieve the dream of being a writer. She still encourages me to write and inspires me with her own voracious reading.

Thank you, Momma, for having words with me. I love you.

Celebrate the Winners!

2011-05-07T08:29:00.000-04:00

~~Sadly, all celebrations must come to an end. Today is the day to reveal the winners of my Celebration Blogfest in honor of my 100th post and 200th follower. I'm thrilled to say that Random.org worked its magic. The winners are:
First Place
L. of Notes from the Jovian Frontier

Second Place
J. L. Campbell of The Character Depot

Third Place
S. P. Bowers of S. P. Bowers

L. let me know which book is you choice--Stephen King's On Writing, Anne Lamott's Bird by Bird, Steven Pressfield's The War of Art, or signed copies of my An Easter Walk and A Christmas Walk. I'll leave a comment with instructions for collecting your prizes on your blogs with my email address and email you if I have your address.

~~Thanks to you all for commenting and helping me celebrate!

Celebrate!

2011-04-30T13:20:00.000-04:00

"Celebrate! Celebrate! Dance to the Music!"

Okay. If you now have a Three Dog Night earworm, you've just dated yourself. No worries. I understand. For all you "young'uns" here's a classic clip. (Though I do prefer Eli's Coming and Old Fashioned Love Song.) You could do worse than classic Three Dog Night. ; )

~~The reason for all the hoopla is my Celebration Blogfest honoring my 100th post and 200th follower (Thanks, Rachna at Rachna's Scriptorium) I started blogging June 2, 2009. It seems like only yesterday. I posted mostly about incidental things like the new puppies (They were 2 on April 7), neat music clips, movies and the flowers, but now I concentrate on writing. Of course, the cute doggies get included still. ; )

~~It's only been since January that I really learned how to use the blog to network and create a platform for my writing. I was reading my buddy, Deniz's blog The Girdle of Melian when she posted a link to a publication blog at Denise's L'Aussie Writing. I started regularly reading Denise's posts and she mentioned a No Fear Blogfest at Dom's Writes of Passage. I entered on a lark and was a finalist. And a blogfester was born. The next link that intrigued me was platform builder extraordinaire Rachael Harrie's Rach Writes and her Second Crusade to Build Writers Platforms. I was hooked. The rest is history. In January, The Shade of the Cherry Tree had 18 followers and look at it now!

~~To celebrate, I'm going to put the names of all the commenters to this post in a drawing for three prizes. The first winner gets to pick from the four prizes listed below. The second and third get fewer and fewer to choose from. But even then, winner number 3 gets two choices--thanks to John, my darling husband, who couldn't stand for the last one to get just the left over gift. If you post a link to In the Shade of the Cherry Tree and tell me in the comments, I'll put your name in the drawing twice. I'll be using random.org to choose. Here are the prizes:

Stephen King's On Writing Amazon link

Anne Lamott's Bird by Bird Amazon link

Steven Pressfield's The War of Art Amazon link

Signed first edition copies of my two devotionals--An Easter Walk and A Christmas Walk (Check these out with the links on the left side)

~~I'll notify the winners by announcing it here, emailing if you have left an email in the comment, and commenting on your latest blog post. Whatever the method, I hope you enjoy the prizes. When you are notified of your win, email me your address. My email is a the bottom of the blog.

~~Good luck, everyone! And Thanks a Million for helping me build my blog and remember to

CELEBRATE!

What Did You Say?!?

2011-04-27T10:48:00.000-04:00

This is post 99. I still need five more followers to hit the magic number of 200. When I get them, I'll post the Celebration Blogfest with four prizes to be shared among three winners. ; )

~~OUCH! OH! S*!# D#*%
What do you say when you hit your finger with a hammer? Does it matter? New research says that cursing actually helps reduce the pain. Don't believe me? Try this ARTICLE for the latest news on pain and cursing. Will that give you permission to say a few four-letter words the next time you hurt yourself? What about your characters?

~~I've been thinking about this as I write lately. The main character in FRIENDLY FIRE is a church-going, widowed, retired teacher. In rough draft scenes Laura Grace has said shit and damn, but I find that in editing, she finds some other way to express her pain. On the other hand, my murdering sex abuser, Craig Ellis, is more likely to find more cuss words to say in the rewrites. It's all about the character's voice and how they relate to the world.

~~For what it's worth, I've never had a character to say the F-word. Especially not Laura Grace. I think Cherry Hill would explode if she did. ; )

Keep watching the Shade for the upcoming Celebration Blogfest.

Random Hits

2011-04-25T13:20:00.002-04:00

This is post 98! Only two to go till the magic number of 100.

~~I'm working on the Celebration Blogfest coming soon to the Shade of the Cherry Tree. There will be four prizes up for grabs for the three winners. I only had three planned, but my sweet hubby insisted that Number Three needed a choice also. I'll keep what the prizes are under wraps until the big day. ; )

~~Now the question is--how do I go about choosing the winners? It will be a random draw and my dear Momma and Hubby will be glad to pick random numbers from among the comments or I could draw the comments out of a hat, but...I know there is a better way somewhere out there. If you know about programs to select random winner, let me know.

~~And while I have total control over the number of posts, I can't control when I reach 200 followers. If you haven't followed me yet and want to, please click away. If you feel like posting a link to me, I'd be thrilled. Especially on the big day. I'm crossing my fingers for Friday. That gives me three other days to post Number 99. ; ) Like I said, I have control over that one.

Show Don't Tell--Crusader Challenge

2011-04-22T08:42:00.001-04:00

~~Rachael Harrie has guided us through a great Crusade and her last challenge is a fun ride. Here are the directions:
My Show Not Tell Challenge: In 300 words or less, write a passage (it can be an excerpt from your WIP, flash fiction, a poem, or any other writing) that shows (rather than tells) the following:

*you're scared and hungry
*it's dusk
*you think someone is following you
*and just for fun, see if you can involve all five senses AND include these random words: shimmer, saccadic, substance, and salt.

~~My snip if from my SF wip THE DAWN AND THE LION. This wip is set on Patria, one of three planets initially founded from Earth. The POV is Princess Canda Aurora of Shardonia, wife of King August Leo, Imperial Heir of Patria. Times are tough as you will see. Let me know if I showed you what's going on instead of telling. If you notice some of those little sneaky telling bits, do let me know. ; )

###

Since the shuttle crash, the nausea that had stalked me for two weeks achieved new levels of torment. Crisp, cool water poured from the liana leaves overhead. At least I’d have something to drink when my stomach settled. Of course, the pounding rain would have to slack off before I could attempt getting any water. The puddles at my feet shimmered with each lightning bolt. They stabbed my eyes like the rockets that had burst from the forest floor.

I could still see the sun’s last rays lighting the rising clouds racing down the ridge as the first rocket tore through the shuttle’s wing and Tomas’ hands fought the saccadic tumble. But the second rocket…no pilot could compensate for that. The scraping branches and vines couldn’t cushion the bone-jarring jolt of our landing. Our attackers were near. Their victory shouts made crawling from the wreckage and running my only chance. Tomas stayed behind; his brains scattered over the instrument panel.

For now, I’d evaded capture, but there wouldn’t be any edible fruit among the wet, rotten vegetation on the forest floor. The oozing gash in my thigh from knee to hip made climbing impossible. At least the throbbing gash screamed louder than my rebellious stomach.

Sudden insight seared my mind like lightning. The rebels didn’t want me dead. I was their best hope, their champion, the only royal who heard their pleas. The honor of shooting me down belonged to the court’s Pure Patria adherents. They wanted me—the below-the-salt, upstart Shardon princess—dead before I could sully the royal bloodline. My stomach turned itself out and I wiped my sour mouth. They were too late. I had to survive for the new life I carried. The only question was how.

Special announcement!
I'm only 12 followers from 200 and three posts from 100 posts. When those milestones are achieved, I'll be announcing a blogfest with three prizes. Hope it's soon. ; )

Inkheart--The Storyteller's Art

2011-04-11T16:25:00.000-04:00

~~In honor of all the A to Z bloggers, today's letter is I. Even if I don't have the stamina to post for every letter of the alphabet, I can make sure my posts are the correct letter of the day. ; )

~~Have you ever read a story that came alive as you read it. The characters are real. They live and breathe. They speak directly to you. It's magic. It's the storyteller's art. I've read many great books and seen many great stories made into movies over the years, but last week I saw a movie that hinged on this very idea. The movie was Inkheart based on a book by Cornelia Funke. The movie came out in 2008, but neither of us had heard of it until we found it in our Netflix suggested movie list. And we're glad we tried it. Of course, John had to endure my endless comments of the magic of writing stories as we watched.

~~Mo "Silvertongue" Folchart is a bookbinder with a secret talent. When he reads a story out loud, the characters become alive and some cross over into his world. Unfortunately, his wife crosses into the world of the book he is reading, Inkheart. His art as a storyteller creates a problem he has to fix, but he can't find a copy of the book. His quest leads to the action. I won't give you the entire synopsis. For more check HERE.

~~What I want to discuss is the art that storytellers use when the story steps off the page. The reader becomes lost in a new world. They can't stop reading. They have to know what happens next. The creation of such a story is beyond amazing. It's magic. And don't we all want to be able to do exactly that when we write? ; )

Fabulous, Fantastic...Fearmonger?

2011-04-06T14:19:00.000-04:00

~~Well, if toy poodles can be fearmongers, Max qualifies. Twice yesterday, he created situations that could have ended his very short life. Add that he frightened Momma and Daddy to death and you've got fear in a tiny package.
~~First Death-Defying Act--John was working on papers for his GED class to do. There was a small paper clip on the rug beside the piles he was sorting and guess who stole it? Max. John tried to remove it from the little bit's mouth and--presto--it was gone. We feared the worst. He is known to chew the little wire bits into jagged-ended mangles. If he had to pass that, he would tear the plumbing up. We settle in for a wait for the puppy to whine session. Until, I found the paper clip in the corner of the hall where he had dropped it when confronted. One fearful event down.
~~Second Death-Defying Act--John has always wanted the boys to walk off-leash around the yard with him. Treats and "Come" commands have been dominating our walks. Until yesterday. Max shot off through the neighbor's yard and John found him frozen in the middle of the street with cars stopped on either side. Needless to say, there will be no further off-lease walks for the Max Man.
~~We were worried that the little boy would not make his second brithday tomorrow, but so far it looks like we're on the way to another day. Here's the latest pictures of my boys, just back from the groomers with jaunty bandanas around their necks.

Casey

Max

~~I'll be computerless until some time Friday. The hard drive is going in for a tune up. I'll catch up this weekend. ; )

A to Z Envy

2011-04-01T16:07:00.000-04:00

~~Did you realize that there are 1077 bloggers who have taken the challenge to blog everyday in April except for Sunday? Really! I'm just going to admit here and now, I'm not that ambitious. I'm not even going to try.
~~Good luck, guys. May the words flow and the comments follow. ; )

Where DID That Muse Go?

2011-03-26T19:21:00.000-04:00

~~The short answer it nowhere. ; )

~~The long answer is a bit more complicated and challenging. When I sit down to write and string a few words together then get up in disgust, I've stopped myself. My muse, that spark of creativity, hasn't gone anywhere. I've just ceased listening to her nagging, whining, annoying self. I'll confess to a very low productivity in February and March. I've got a thousand excuses for it, too. But the muse hasn't left me. When I least expect it, I hear this question from deep inside--What are you doing? The point of creativity is simply to do it. Tell the story. Sing the song. Start something. We have to stop denying what we are supposed to be doing. It may sound totally simplistic, but for me it's profound.

~~The idea of a muse for creativity is a long standing one. Artists and writers have characterized the force behind their creativity as their Muse referring to the nine daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne (Memory) from mythology. Each of the sisters guided a separate facet of art, music, writing, dance. According to Steven Pressfield's book, The War of Art, that drive or muse is built into everyone. Whether or not we open ourselves to expressing it is our choice. To deny it is Resistance to use Pressfield's term. Resistance can take many forms--denial that we can create anything, excuses for why we can't do it today or next year, or being more concerned about what others think than expressing what is inside. Whatever makes us afraid to go on is a block or Resistance. My biggest fear is that I'm not able to do it right, so why try? We need to just do it. Maybe Nike ads have a bigger point than just getting us to buy shoes.

~~So what's stopping you from putting pen to paper or fingers to keyboard? What's you favorite excuse?

Backing out the Stitches--Rewrites and a Catch Me Entry Redo

2011-03-18T16:35:00.001-04:00

~~If you've ever sewn, you know what I mean by backing out stitches. It's a rare garment that doesn't need a seam straightened of some other minor boo-boo corrected. I don't really remember not being able to sew. When my granddaddy died at 80, he still had a handkerchief I'd hemmed when I was three. For years I made nearly all my clothes even jeans when I was in high school and the only garment I remember that didn't need stitches backed out was my wedding dress. Though tendinitis and arthritis have stopped my sewing, the lessons I learned with needles and thread are still with me. The only mistake is one you don't correct.

~~Writing is much the same. When we start this wonderful endeavor of creating our own worlds, we have the tendency to cling to our first efforts as if we've mined pure gold instead of ore that needs refining. I'm just now seeing my willingness to rewrite and refine extending to everything I write like my opening scene of FRIENDLY FIRE. I've clung to the first line of "Laura Grace, smile!" for three years, but it's gone now. Thanks to input from the wonderful critique I get from N. R. Williams, my buddies at the Forum, my local crit group, and all of you who participated in the Catch Me If You Can blogfest, scene one is new and improved. At least, for now. ; )

~~So here's the 263rd version. ; )

Another cloud of soiled diaper stench drifted over us, but happiness still crinkled my friend Jen’s eyes as she looked around the large fellowship hall and turned to me. “Isn’t it great, Laura Grace? I didn’t expect so many foster kids, but we have enough goodies for an army.”

She was right. The foster care respite party was a big success so far. Who knew so many would come on Mother’s Day weekend? I shoved what was left of my teacakes to the front of the tray so the kids could reach them easily.

Mother’s Day was my personalized brand of torment, but I had I set myself up for it by volunteering to help with the party to give foster parents a bit of a breather. The memory of Tom’s face hovered just out of reach amid the noise and chaos of so many little children. He would have given me permission to miss this job. I shook the sorrow back in its compartment. Time enough next week to mark the first anniversary of his death.

Rosemary joined us at the serving tables. Her voice rose just loud enough to be heard over the racket of nearly fifty kids as they ran and shrieked around us. “Laura Grace, are you going to be okay?” My backup had arrived.

I winced as two kids shoved each other into me. “I taught high school for a reason, Jen. I haven’t a clue how to entertain a herd of toddlers and elementary kids.”

“I know you think that, but you love kids or you wouldn’t have taught for so long,” Jen said. “I’m certain you have ideas about how we can help their foster parents. Giving them a two hour break once a month is a start.”

Noise ricocheted off the block walls. “Yes, they need help, but the rest of you have much more experience with this age group.” My shoulders hunched with the onslaught.

From the stage at the end of the room, a girl stared stoically at the mayhem. Her face was closed, contained. “Who’s the older kid?”

Jen swiveled to look. “Samantha Smith. She’s a challenge. I hoped she would find someone to talk to.”

“What’s wrong with her?” Soft curls framed the big blue eyes. Her fragile beauty reminded me of a former student who had endured years of abuse.

“That’s the challenge. Her foster mom has six kids. Samantha isn’t difficult if she’s allowed to withdraw. Though…” Jen’s lips tightened. “She’s twelve. Acts older.”

“Most of them do at that age. Why is she special?”

Her eyes scanned the room, not looking at the girl or us.

Rosemary said, “Spit it out, Jen.”

She leaned close and lowered her voice. “Her mother was beaten to death by a live-in boyfriend. Samantha saw it all.”

“That’s horrible and not information you should share!” I looked at the girl again.

“I know.” Jen’s voice trembled. “I just worry about her.”

Creases appeared between Rosemary’s brows. “I hope she’s in therapy.”

“Medicaid provides a little, but Samantha needs more. You know the system, Laura Grace.” Jen’s eyes sought mine.

“Yes. After thirty years, the kids’ problems were killing me. Abuse is all too common.” Blinking back tears, I looked at the girl. “Tom and I tried so long and now he’s dead and I don’t even have him anymore.” The old familiar ache seized my heart. “I can’t stand this. I’ve got to go.”

As I reached the door, I heard Rosemary’s voice. “Jen, you knew being here would upset Laura Grace. Why did you badger her into coming?”

Cherry Blossoms

2011-03-16T14:24:00.000-04:00

~~I know the news is disheartening. I can't turn on the TV or even open my homepage without seeing reminders and images of Japan's heartache. I have friends with family in Japan. One of my young cousins is there as well. Some of the news coverage is so sensational that I can't figure out the real from the hyperbole. And yet, spring will come even amid the carnage.

~~To the left you'll see my new picture of a Kwanzan Cherry Tree in full bloom. My Yoshino is starting to bloom about a month early as well. I knew there had to be some symbolism behind the loveliness we all associate with Japan. Here's a bit from a Wikipedia article on cherry blossoms. (Go HERE for the entire article.)

In Japan cherry blossoms also symbolize clouds due to their nature of blooming en masse, besides being an enduring metaphor for the ephemeral nature of life,an aspect of Japanese cultural tradition that is often associated with Buddhistic influence,and which is embodied in the concept of mono no aware... The transience of the blossoms, the extreme beauty and quick death, has often been associated with mortality;for this reason, cherry blossoms are richly symbolic...Cherry blossoms are an enduring metaphor for the fleeting nature of life, and as such are frequently depicted in art.

~~My prayers are still with Japan. The photo below is of cherry blossoms near Tsuruga Castle Aizu-Wakamatsu, Fukushima, Japan.

Japan Disaster--WE can Help

2011-03-12T12:08:00.000-05:00

~~We are all worried about the people of Japan with the destruction from the quake and tsunami. Find some way to help. Go to The Flying Cheetah for suggestions.
~~My prayers go to all the injured and bereaved.

Awarded...Again!?!

2011-03-09T19:17:00.001-05:00

There's a lot of ground to cover in this post:
     Awards
     Catch Me catch up
     Where to go for critiques

~~Imagine my surprise when I came to the Shade this morning and found out I had won not one, but two awards from Kristina at KayKay's Corner. This is my third Stylish Blogger, but now I have a nifty One Lovely Blog to go with it. Amazing! I'll do all the requirements below. ; )

~~I really meant to get to all the lovely people in Kristina's Catch Me If You Can blogfest, but a virus caught me first. Add a migraine and I didn't get to any yesterday. At least I had visited around thirty on Monday. There is some seriously good writing going on around here!

~~My opening scene is slated for some detailed rewrites. All the lovely comments have really helped me look at it again. Hopefully all you Catch Me bloggers has got some good feedback as well. When I get that done, I just might consider sharing it again. Also if you'd like excellent critiques, you can do no better than the Books and Writers Forum at CompuServe. Try this link HERE. Believe me, I write much better because of the family of lovely writers who share their WIPs there.

~~Now without further delay here's the requirements that go along with my two awards:
     1. Link back to the blogger who gave you the award. (See above for a link to KayKay's Corner.)
     2. I have to tell you seven facts about me you might not know.
     3. Pass the awards along to as many as fifteen blogs you have found recently.
     4. Notify the bloggers of their awards.

~~Seven things you might not know about me and I didn't tell you the last time I won an award:
     1. I much prefer digging out a litter box than walking the pups in 14 degrees or a driving rainstorm complete with thunder like today.
     2. I won't make choir practice tonight due to the virus and lingering effects of the migraine. I don't think even my MC, Laura Grace, would fuss at me.
     3. I sing soprano, but have filled in for at times on high tenor and alto over the years.
     4. If you wondered why I use a wink ; ) instead of the traditional smiley : ), it's because I like the look of the wink much better than the smiley in my favorite font--Georgian.
     5. I hate san serif fonts that don't have the little lines on top and bottom of the letters. I confuse capital I's, little i's and little l's in san serif fonts.
     6. I've been known to use a cat emoticon =^..^= in my signature line for years because I have shared my life and love with seven purrfectly lovely cats over the decades. Now we have two toy poodles and I still don't have a clue what makes doggies do what they do.
     7. We still call Max and Casey the puppy poodles and always will because we like alliteration. They'll be two on April 7.

~~Now some bloggers you should check out. You won't be sorry. Many of these folks are in my groups at the Crusade. Hi, Groupies!
1. Lola at SharpPen/Dull Sword
2. Ann at Inkpots n' Quills
3. Lauri at Lauri's Blog
4. Linda at Scheherazade's Journal
5. Rusty at The Blutonian Death Egg
6. Alberta at Alberta's Sefuty Chronicles
7. Dan at Sanguine Musings
8. Sylvia at Play with your Writing
9. Deborah at Deborah Walker's Bibliography
10. Lynda at W.I.P. It
11. Dominic at Writes of Passage
12. Marie at The Flying Cheetah
13. Sully at Sully's Scribbles
14. Myne at Myne Whitman Writes
15. Rose at East for Green Eyes

Have a blessed Ash Wednesday. Lent's here and Easter's coming. ; )

Catch Me If You Can!

2011-03-07T08:39:00.002-05:00

~~Yeah! The day has dawned and I'm ready...I think. Really, I've been editing and rewriting the first 550 words for the last week to get ready and I've happy with the result. Hopefully, you will all agree that my first scene of FRIENDY FIRE catches your attention.

~~For more info on Kristina's first ever blogfest go to KayKay's Corner. You'll find links to the other bloggers posting their first words as well. Hop around and sample a few.

~~Writers know that their first few pages have to hook a agent, editor, and readers to make it, so without further delay, here's the first scene of FRIENDLY FIRE.

~~Kristina suggested we include an email link for lengthy critiques. zanmariess@gmail.com I'd love the input if you're inclined. ; )

<><><><>

Happiness crinkled my friend Jen’s eyes as she looked around the large fellowship hall and turned to me. “Isn’t it great, Laura Grace? I didn’t expect so many foster kids, but we have enough goodies for an army.”

She was right. The foster care respite party was a big success so far. Who knew so many would come on Mother’s Day weekend?

But why had I set myself up for this torment? I knew better, and yet here I was helping with a Mother’s Day party and scheduled to sing in the Mother’s Day service tomorrow.

Rosemary joined us. Her voice rose just loud enough to be heard over the racket of nearly fifty kids as they ran and shrieked around us. “Laura Grace, are you going to be okay?” My backup had arrived.

I winced as two kids shoved each other into me. “I taught high school for a reason, Jen. I haven’t a clue how to entertain a herd of toddlers and elementary kids.”

“I know you think that, but you love kids or you wouldn’t have taught for so long.” Frowning, Jen said, “I know you have ideas about how we can help their foster parents. Giving them a two hour break once a month is a start.”

Noise ricocheted off the block walls. “Yes, they need help, but I’m not the one for this job.” My shoulders hunched with the onslaught. A cloud of soiled diaper stench drifted over us.

A petite blond girl eyed the rest of the children from in front of the stage at one end of the room. Soft curls framed the big blue eyes staring stoically at the mayhem, but her face was closed, contained. “Who’s the older kid?”

Jen swiveled toward the child. “Samantha Smith. She’s a challenge. I hoped she would find someone to talk to.”

“What’s wrong with her?” Her fragile beauty reminded me of a student who had endured years of abuse.

“That’s the challenge. Her foster mom has six kids. Samantha isn’t difficult if she’s allowed to withdraw. Though…” Jen frowned. “She’s twelve. Acts older.”

“Most of them do at that age. Why is she special?”

Her eyes scanned the room, not looking at the child or us.

“Spit it out, Jen.”

She leaned close and lowered her voice. “Her mother was beaten to death by a live-in boyfriend. Samantha saw it all.”

“That’s horrible!” I looked at the girl again.

“I know.” Jen’s voice trembled and creases appeared between Rosemary’s brows.

Tearing up, I said, “Is she in therapy?”

“Medicaid provides a little, but Samantha needs more. How do you expect a parent to provide that on foster pay?” Jen’s frown deepened. “Just how long did you teach?”

“Thirty years. And I didn’t leave a day too soon. The kids’ problems were tearing me up. Parents don’t appreciate the gift God gives them.” Through a scrim of tears, I looked at the girl. “Tom and I tried so long and now he’s dead and I don’t even have him anymore.” The old familiar ache seized my heart. “I can’t stand this. I’ve got to go.”

As I reached the door, I heard Rosemary’s voice. “Jen, you knew being here would upset Laura Grace. Why did you badger her into coming?”

The Sap is Rising...When is Southern too Southern?

2011-03-02T12:54:00.001-05:00

~~Okay, raise your hand if you don't know what I mean by "the sap is rising?" I used this term in chapter 1 of FRIENDLY FIRE and one critiquer noted it with the question, "What sap?" I was describing the time in spring when the trees begin to leaf, bud, and bloom and a young bird's, cat's, hawk's, dog's or man's thoughts turn to love. ; ) During my teaching career, we feared the rowdiness and increase in public displays of affection that Spring inevitably brought to the hallways and classrooms.

~~I used the term to note the time of year, and my POV character, Laura Grace, used the term. Here's a portion of the snip in question.

Ten minutes later, the dappled shade and bright patches of vinca and impatiens along the hospital track began their calming medicine. Magnolia blooms heavy with vanilla and lemon scented the warm air. Settling into my rhythm, the beauty of the place captured my mind. A flock of Canadian geese honked at each other as a mother goose, followed by five fluffy goslings, sailed by. The little ones were puffs of downy yellow-gray as their legs worked overtime to keep up with their stately mother. Male mockingbirds strutted their stuff, raising their wings in the spring ritual to show how big they were in hope of attracting the ladies, and I found myself laughing. The sap was rising, just like spring at the high school.

~~I classify FRIENDLY FIRE as Mainstream. At least for the moment. Since it's set in Georgia, I wonder if I need to rephrase the terms Southerners would use in passing for a broader audience, or do they lend color and flavor to my setting? I find myself hesitating at British and Australian terms all the time, but just figure them out by context and read on.

~~What do you think? When is to Southern (or British, or Aussie) too much? I'm curious about your opinions.

You're Lying!

2011-02-25T18:06:00.003-05:00

~~And now to come clean about my First Crusade Challenge. Amanda M. gets the award for reading between the lines successfully and figuring out the lie. I think she read all the comments and used elimination to figure it out.

~~The Truth:
-I love words and dictionary sites. I go to them nearly every day. Thanks to all of you who suggested new ones for me to explore.
-Zan is my daddy's fifth-grade girlfriend's name and it's not short for Alexandra, Suzanne, or Zandra.
-Momma didn't like Marie, but used it because the two names sounded good together. She had a classmate by that name who she just didn't like.
-I do use both names, but answer to just Zan, too.
-Among my many nicknames are Jamboree, Zana Banana, and Zanimo-Mechanimo. For more details about my name go to this old post HERE.
-I do hunt every little good thing about others while holding myself to an unobtainable level of perfection. As my hubby says, "Why don't you cut yourself the same breaks you give everyone else?"
-My worst villain--the evil incarnated, child sex abuser and murderer--has no redeeming value, but he's more of a boogyman until the climax. I may have to rethink that, but I can say the lesser antagonists do have redeeming traits.

~~The Lie:
-I absolutely hate Zanimo-Mechanimo! It doesn't help that King Jerk of my high school saddled me with it to make fun of my ability to organize. Yep, even as a teen, I was obsessive. ; )

~~I have a story published on WOOF: Women Only Over Fifty. Go HERE to find out what's surprising about my puppies. ; )

ARRGH! February, Go Away!

2011-02-24T11:30:00.000-05:00

~~February has been a lost cause when it comes to writing my wip. After November's 19,248 words, December's 13,863 words, and January's 16,427 words, I took it as a given that February would follow suite. But, no. It hasn't. I could give you the litany of excuses from health issues (myself and family) to planning and teaching a class at church. Add the wonderful Second Writer's Platform Crusade at Rachael Harrie's Rach Writes and my desire, no obsessive need, to follow the other 216 blogging crusaders and you've got a good list of the external reasons I've had not to write.

~~To be honest, they are just excuses for something much deeper and more insidious. Steven Pressfield calls it resistance in his book, The War of Art. Resistance is anything you let stop you from writing (or other creative endeavors). I've been so resistant this month, that I haven't been able to finish reading The War of Art. Once I finally made myself finish reading part one, I got back to work. That very day!

~~One of my best resistance blocks is perfectionism. It's a flavor of obsession that makes, no, requires me to stop working, because I know how much has to be done to write the book. And I know I can't do it right in the first draft. So I just don't do anything. Or I struggle to write a scene knowing it's horrible because I'm only writing that specific scene I think I need it, but can't explain why. It's all head writing vs. heart writing. Check out Rachael's excellent blog post HERE on this very subject. What's true though, is what Steven Pressfield and Anne Lamott in her excellent book, Bird by Bird say--If you write everyday, your heart starts to take over and run the show.

~~So, February, check out, pass the baton to March, and let me get back to work!

Catch Me If You Can!

2011-02-23T14:42:00.000-05:00

~~Kristina Fugate is hosting the Catch Me If You Can blogfest March 7 & 8. Be sure and check it out.

~~Also catch my fellow crusaders in the three groups I'm in by checking out my new page button. All of them are great blogs.

First Crusade Challenge

2011-02-18T16:37:00.000-05:00

~~Rachael gave us a great first Crusader Challenge, didn’t she? Check out the info HERE.

~~I love words. Any words. All words. My most used bookmark is the One Look Dictionary Search. Check it out HERE. I can spend hours going down the rabbit hole of looking up words one after the other. All those who claim the blogosphere is just a vast way for us to bloviate have it all wrong. What’s not to love when wordsmiths do their best to entertain and inform. Though the challenge added a new one—fuliguline. Sea Ducks? I looked at that one and headed you know where. ; ) I guess I’ll have to make do with the Canadian geese flying overhead going home since I’m six hours from any sea or ocean.

~~I’m named for my daddy’s fifth grade girlfriend. Zan isn’t short for anything. Marie came from Momma. She didn’t want to use it, but it sounded good. I use both names since Zan is usually seen as male. I guess the unusual name is a magnet for nicknames as well—Jamboree and Zana Banana and high school added my favorite one of all—Zanimo-Mechanimo.

~~My lips turn up at the corners naturally so many people can’t tell when I’m sad or mad. That is until I open my mouth. It’s defused a lot of tense situations, so I’m not complaining. Unfortunately, gravity is starting to turn them down.

~~If I could take a blade to my bad character traits, I’d do it in a heartbeat, but I can’t dwell on others’ negative tendencies at all. I always look for the good in others. There is good in everyone, right? Must be. So why do I have a villain in my wip with absolutely no redeeming value at all?

~~There's a fact here that's not strictly true. Do you know which one it is?

Where To Begin

2011-02-12T16:56:00.002-05:00

~~Writers are told to begin their stories with a hook or in media res (Latin for “in the middle of things”). I’ve read that we should write our novels and then cut off the first four chapters. This is attributed to Chekov, but I haven’t been able to find the reference. If all this advice is giving you an attack of nerves, I’m with you.

~~There’s something to it though. I recently read a novel by a best-selling author and I was stunned to realize that the story didn’t really begin until a quarter of the way in. Everything before that was backstory that should have been sprinkled in like salt. I almost put the book down. Almost. But I couldn’t quite do it. The story was good and the characters intriguing…and I’m a bit obsessive. ; ) Why would the author of over sixty titles make this mistake? I imagine she thought we needed all of the backstory to fully appreciate the plot.

~~Two different sources finally made the advice hit home for me. One is an article by Victoria Mixon on “Four Mistakes of Fiction Writers” and number two addresses just this issue—“Misplaced Backstory.” Here’s a bit of Victoria’s advice:

Unfortunately, we don’t read in a chronological world. We read for excitement. We read for the thrill of our blood pressure being inflated, soothed, then inflated again. We read for the roller coaster ride. (emphasis—Victoria Mixon)

Check this LINK for the full article.

The other great advice comes from Beth at the Forum. She has a great blog post that describe gangplanks, doors, and bridges. Gangplanks are for writers to help them get into the scene and they should be ditched later. Doors are for readers and bridges are to let readers make transitions between scenes. Check out Beth’s entire post at this LINK.

~~All this thinking about where to begin has made me reassess the starts of two of my works-in-progress. FRIENDLY FIRE begins when Laura Grace first sees Samantha, an abused foster child and that’s the right place because it puts into motion everything else in the plot. If I’d begun a year earlier at the funeral of Laura Grace’s husband, Tom, I would have spent pages telling you about her slide into depression, day by day, and you’d rightfully put the book down, bored to tears.

~~THE DAWN AND THE LION, my SciFi work-in-progress, is another story altogether. The many handwritten pages I have squirreled away on this story are largely backstory, and I’ve got to cut them severely to make the beginning hook you into the story. I will use all the info I’ve learned, but as sparing detail to flesh out main character Canda as she negotiates Patria with its very different culture and mores. Susan Edwards, one of my writing buddies, has always said I started THE DAWN AND THE LION in the wrong place. You know what, Susan, you’re absolutely right! It took me reading a book by someone else to really internalize the advice.

~~So here’s to finding the right place to begin. May you all find it easily. But, then, when was writing ever easy. Enjoy the hunt!

Second Writers' Platform-Building Crusade

2011-02-05T09:29:00.000-05:00

~~To all my followers: We are going to connect across the web to help each other out when agents and editors ask if we have platforms to promote our writing. So follow this link to Rach Writes for more info.

And Now--Something New in the Shade

2011-02-03T13:41:00.001-05:00

~~Just when you thought you understood how this blogging stuff works, you learn something new. It was only last month that I figured out how to change my template for a updated look. I still love it, by the way. Though I have tried on a few more for size, this one suits me for now. Then my Forum buddy, Tara, added the neatest page to her blog--My Writings. Check her out at Feel of Something New or use the blog roll on the side. I tried to think through every possible way to do it and nearly gave up. Then it hit me--just ask Tara! And it's easy. By the way, Tara's a great writer!

~~Here's how you do it--When you start a new post, check out the tab that says Edit Pages and voila there is an easy to use box to create up to ten free standing pages. As many blogs as I've seen with these nifty additions and it takes me until my seventieth post to see the tab before my eyes...You have to wonder about my powers of observation. ; )

~~Armed with Tara's helpful and clear directions, I've added four new pages to my blog in the last week. So check them out. I included:
My Books--descriptions and background about my two devotionals and a little about the two church histories
Works In Progress--about the three novels I'm actively working on--Friendly Fire, Line of Fire, and The Dawn and the Lion. The first is on the front burner, but sneaky little scenes and ideas for the other two slip in here and there. There is a devotional gestating as well, but I'm not far enough along to describe it yet.
About--Which includes a brief Bio, Awards, Events, and Articles
Photos--Which is what you think--photos of events and etc. from my journey as a writer

~~The Shade of the Cherry Tree is like a mini website all by itself now. So check the new pages out and let me know what you think. And let me thank Tara one more time. ; )

No Fear Finalist!

2011-01-30T20:53:00.003-05:00

No Fear Blogfest
Writes of Passage
NO FEAR FINALIST!!!!

~~Really! I'm not kidding. Go to Dominic de Matteo's blog--Writes of Passage--for the announcement. I'm one of the six finalists in the "No Fear Blogfest." My entry is the first half of the climax of FRIENDLY FIRE. You can read it HERE.

~~The voting on the finalists is open to all at Dominic's blog. Be sure to check it out and read all the entries. There were some amazing stories among the finalists. And you can vote. ; ) The deadline for voting is Saturday Feburary 6 at midnight GMT.

No Fear! Yeah, Right

2011-01-29T10:22:00.003-05:00

No Fear Blogfest
Writes of Passage
~~There's a neat contest going on at Dominic de Mattos' Writes of Passage. The challenge is to post a snip of your MC at the point of greatest bravery. So here goes.
~~The MC is Laura Grace Chandler, a retired teacher and adoptive mother in her late fifties. She is attacked by the abusers from her daughter's past and has to summon deep reserves of bravery to meet the challenge. This snip has been posted in earlier forms on the Compuserve Books and Writers Forum.

FRIENDLY FIRE copyright 2010 Zan Marie Steadham

Mack or Manny had been here nearly every day since we learned about Craig’s release date, and Bob Thomas had stepped up the patrols of Cherry Hill’s finest in the neighborhood. It was like living in an armed camp. It might actually be an armed camp if Mack had a concealed carry permit. I didn’t want to know. The memory of that gun in my daughter’s hands chilled me. And yet, none of the precautions changed the feeling of eyes on the back of my neck when we were out.

So far, Samantha had not asked me about what was bothering the men, why they were here all the time. Maybe she thought we were concerned about Dale showing up. We were, but Manny’s visit had been a couple of weeks after she’d told me about seeing Dale.

“Did you do your homework?” I glanced up in time to see the fleeting look of guilt among the curls. “Samantha, what’s your first job every afternoon?”

Her jaw tightened as she looked away from me. “My first job is school and all assignments my teacher give me.”

It was a rote, dead-on imitation of me. I arched a brow and began to sort through my usual responses, but stopped cold. Her eyes weren’t defiant. No. That was fear. “Angel, what’s wrong?”

Rounding the table I was by her in a moment and gathered her in my arms as her lip began to tremble. My slight rocking began by instinct, just as it had every time she was afraid. Like every night the nightmares came.

Her voice was small, barely above a whisper. “I n-need poster board. For biology. Cell m-mito-s-sis-mitosis—”

“So we go get it. How are your markers? They’re fairly new.”

The wide blue eyes were my only answer.

“Get your coat, angel.” I gave her a tight hug then released her toward the coat closet.

She was rooted. “But…” The small voice shook. “It’s nearly dark.”

“Then let’s go fast.” Dark. And Dale lurking. Yes, we needed to go fast, but it wouldn’t take twenty minutes.

#

Stepping out into the chill February night, I aimed the remote key through the breezeway toward the car and clicked lock. What I’d give for an attached garage was astronomical, but this was the house Tom and I had bought shortly after signing our first teaching contracts. The stiff north wind whistled around the corner of the house and I pulled my head down into the collar of my sweater. It wasn’t enough for this wind. Thank goodness a cup of tea waited by my chair.

Turning back to the door, I froze. Streetlights glinted on the neighbors’ cars except for the ratty Ford in front of the Talley house. Frowning, I stepped further onto the porch to see it better. Rosemary wouldn’t have let one of the boys buy a car like that, but it was the same one I had noticed outside the school yesterday. I shrugged.

A hand covered my mouth. As I grabbed for it, an arm like iron pinned my arms to my sides. Sour male sweat swamped my nose and my stomach churned as I struggled against the man’s clasp. The rasping voice in my ear rode on a gust of rancid chewing tobacco. “I won’t hurt you, old woman, if I get what I want.”

The man jerked me back into the house and flung me against the wall. As my head bounced against it, I sat down hard. Pain lanced up my leg as my head throbbed. My vision’s focus went in and out with the beat of my heart. Adrenalin flooded my veins with its pulse.

The man standing over me grinned. Lank, greasy hair hung over his thin face bulging with tobacco. He laughed as another man stepped in the door. A younger version of the short, wiry man stepped over my legs. I shook my head to clear my eyes.

“Where’s the little bitch? She’s mine, you know.” The older man looked down the hall. “I made her mine when she was seven.”

Bile threatened to choke me as sick realization hit the pit of my stomach—Craig Ellis. I looked at his companion. He had to be Dale. My heart rammed my ribs. They wanted Samantha and I was the only one here who could stop them. I was all she had. “She—she’s not here.” My voice was strangled with fear. I cleared my throat. Dear Lord, let me convince them. “Samantha isn’t here.” My voice had settled and was loud enough to carry to her room. “She’s spending the night with a friend. Who are you?”

Craig punched me and my lip spilt, blood spattering the wall. “Try again.”

As my stomach clenched tighter, the sweet and rancid smell of chewing tobacco gagged me. A stream of hot, brown juice landed beside me on the carpet.

Craig looked around the room. “Did Sam tell you about her dear, old step-dad?” He nodded toward the entertainment center. “Dale, see if any of that’ll sell. I don’t think this old bitch will need much more persuading.” The younger man stared at me for moment before he turned. Craig’s gaze raked me. Revulsion twisted my stomach. “She’s here. No one’s left since you two got back.” His feral glare threatened to turn out the contents of my stomach. “Anyway, she’ll want to see me.”

A lamp shattered against the hearth. I jumped. Dale pulled the TV out of the cabinet. “TV’d sell. So would the DVD and CD changer.”

Dale grinned. “Seems like Sam found a sweet ride. We’ll get that after our little reunion.” He leered. “Be good to see how much she’s learned.”

Taking a deep breath, my mind raced through all the options I had. Didn’t take long. Could I bribe him to leave? Lord knows, I couldn’t stop them physically. “You can have all that and my credit cards if you leave now.” I held my breath.

He shook his head. “I’ve already got that.” His hand picked up my purse from the table near the door. “All I lack is Sam.” He looked down the hall. “Come on, Sam. Come to daddy. Haven’t you missed me? I know Dale’s missed you. Even though he’s heard those tall tales you’ve told on us. Think you owe us of us some payback, girl.”

Shock rocketed through me. I might not be much of a threat, but I would not let them have Samantha. I’d do anything to protect her from this molester and keep her from being murdered like Tammy Smith. My ankle screamed with pain as I struggled to get up. I didn’t have time to deal with that now. “I won’t let you hurt her again.” The steel in my voice surprised me. “Samantha, go out the window now!”

Dale grabbed me by the throat and a knife pressed against it. I froze. I hadn’t seen him come back across the room. His hard eyes pinned me as much as his knife did. The fog of his rank sweat surrounded me. “Not until I screw that little bitch one more time. You aren’t going to stop me.”

Craig’s eyes traveled up and down my upholstered body. My goose bumps rose and fell with his gaze. “How about you? Think you’d like some, too? Bet an old broad like you’ve never had a man.”

My face flamed and my eyes rolled to Tom’s picture on the mantle before I could stop them. My mouth followed suit. “I have. But you aren’t a man.” I bit my lip. This was not the time to allow my revulsion to get in the way of protecting Samantha.

Craig’s face hardened as Dale shifted the knife just enough to nick my skin. Nerves flared along my neck as he spat a stream of tobacco against the wall to join the blood. “Shit. Who’d want this?”

“Had worse.” Craig’s voice softened. “Come on, Sam. Come out. I’ll let the old woman go.”

Light glinted on Samantha’s golden curls as she stepped into the room. “I’m here, Craig.” My heart sank and tears rolled down my cheeks at the sight of her. She had not abandoned me to their violence. Her hand trembling slightly, she placed the phone on the breakfast bar. Her voice was calm and her eyes bright. “Let her go, and I’ll do whatever you want.” Her cheeks flamed as she stared at him.

“Thought you would.” Craig’s eyes traveled up and down her figure. “Damn. Dale’s right. You did grow up good. Shit, girl! You were pretty as a little ‘un. But now—”

“Tell Dale to let Laura Grace go, Craig, or I’ll call the cops.” Her hand floated over the phone.

“No you don’t.” Craig gestured toward me. “Put your knife up, Dale.”

The young man grunted. “Why? Might be fun to screw Sam in front of her and I don’t think she’ll sit still for it.” Cringing, I watched Dale. His eyes smoldered as he watch Samantha come closer.

“Let her leave, Craig,” Samantha said.

I bit my lip to keep from screaming, no. God help me.

“No yet, kid. I mean to have my fun after nearly seven years in prison. Your fault, remember. Tammy deserved every blow.” His eyes hardened. “Should have killed you, too. I’ll fix that after I have you.”

A fine trembling raced through Dale and his grip on my throat tightened. I had failed her.

“Let me hug my momma one more time. Then I’ll do whatever you want, Craig.” She reached out a hand toward me where I was pinned in Dale’s grip.

Craig’s chuckle caught me off guard. He shrugged. “Why not? Is she as good as Tammy?” Samantha’s eyes widened as she turned toward him. “Didn’t know I knew she turned to you after our scraps, did you? Hell, I enjoyed watching.” His sneer cut through my fear.

Dale’s hand loosened and the knife shifted away from my neck. He shoved me off balance as he stabbed at Samantha. “You bitch! You made them take Daddy away.”

I wrapped my arms around him as I fell. The knife sliced into my arm.

Craig stepped closer. “Old woman, you’re done for now.” His voice was low and husky with venom and his eyes burned with anger.

“Stop right there, Craig.” My voice rang with certainty as I knelt on Dale’s chest with the knife pressed against his throat. “I’ll kill him if you touch me or Samantha.”

Dale’s eyes flickered up at Craig. Tears welled up, trickling over his temples into his ears. Blood from my arm dappled his shirt. I looked back at Craig in time to see Samantha race out the door behind him and relief surged through me.

Craig lunged toward me, pulling a knife that looked twice as large as the one I held clamped to Dale’s neck. My heart thudded as I watched him approach. “Bitch! I’ll kill you!”

“Freeze, Ellis.” A booming voice roared from the door where a huge policeman loomed, gun drawn.

Craig swung about, knife held chest high.

I jerked as the gun’s retort echoed along the ceiling, but didn’t move from Dale’s straining chest. He wasn’t getting up no matter how he whimpered under my knees. I watched his wide eyes for any attempt to throw me off.

Blood, hot and thick, showered me as Craig fell. A scream from the porch pierced the air, but I couldn’t turn from Dale. I would not let him get Samantha.

Two more officers came in the door, guns raised. Glancing at them and the muzzles like cannon mouths, didn’t distract me. Dale was pinned and I intended for him to stay that way.

The first officer towered over me as the radio on his shoulder crackled. Touching the call button, he said, “Cortman. Craig Ellis is down. Send EMTs.” He looked at my blood spattered form. “Send two ambulances.” Grinning he nodded at me. “Mrs. Chandler has Dale Ellis pinned.”

A vague sense of recognition stirred as I stared at his heavy frame and sandy hair.

He knelt beside me as the other officers surrounded Craig, muttering curses. The officer’s blue eyes crinkled with smile lines. “It’s okay, Mrs. Chandler. It’s over. Hand me the knife.”

I shook my head as tremors ran up my arm. “I-I can’t let him have Samantha.” My voice was a husk. I couldn’t move until I knew my daughter was all right.

He slowly raised his hand and took the one I had clenched on the knife. “Harrison, get Dale’s arms.” His eyes never left mine.

The other officer came from Craig’s side and leaned in to hold Dale.

“Cortman?” Reading the first officer’s badge made my mind click. “Nathan Cortman?”

His grinned widened. “Yep. That’s me. Let me have the knife. We have him. He can’t hurt you or your daughter anymore.” His eyes traveled over me and a small frown line puckered his brow.

Stylish Blogger Award!

2011-01-22T20:35:00.002-05:00

~~Thanks to Deniz for my Stylish Blogger Award!

~~Thank and link back to the person who awarded you this award
     Share things about yourself
     Award recently discovered great bloggers
     Contact these bloggers about the award

~~Things about me you might not know:
     1. I'm named for my daddy's fifth grade girlfriend.

2. After being Momma to seven cats for over forty-three years, I'm now the momma of two toy poodles.

3. My picture is in the newspaper for the third time in a month.

4. I've been married for thirty-three years and John, my love, is a six foot four inch blond with Jamie Fraser blue eyes.

5. In the last three months I've added 33,372 words to my official rough draft file for FRIENDLY FIRE.

6. I've written new words for five different works in progress in the last three months.

7. I no longer drink Diet Coke--Don't you dare touch my hot tea!

8. There is an actual cherry tree in my yard.

~~Try these great blogs--all of them are Stylish!

L'Aussie Writing

All the World's Our Page

A Day in the Life of Me

Feel of Something New

Nietzsche I'm Not

San Diego Writing Women

My Outlander Purgatory

A Whole New Look

2011-01-17T15:53:00.000-05:00

~~I know. It's different than it was this morning. The blog needed a new look and I was ready to ditch the Pepto-Bismol pink. There were so many different possiblities and I looked at them again and again. I could have black and dramatic, simple and understated, photo window with a beach house, but in the end, the birds did it. I needed that one more image to really sell the cherry tree shade theme.

~~So welcome to the new Cherry Tree for the new year.

Enough!

2011-01-12T20:16:00.000-05:00

~~Okay. Enough is enough! Even though the snow and ice melts a bit every day, the water freezes back and the ice gets thicker every night. Now it's all John and I can do to crunch through the top layer. Casey and Max have no hope of denting it and have been skating a time or two. The glare off the slick surface is like a mirror. John did slip down a time or two trying to get to the back for a shovel to use on his mother's walk. I keep asking everyone if they can ever remember it been this bad before. Finally someone older than I am said 1960. Though I really don't remember my first snow, I do have evidence that it wasn't anywhere near as deep. And yes, that's little old me. ; )

~~The birds are just as tired of it as we are. We can't hope to get to the feeders, so we have been carefully stepping out on the deck that's just as covered as the ground and throwing seeds at the feeders. The birds are thrilled since all their usual feeding sites are under nearly six inches of snow and ice. It's a strange sensation when the seeds go sliding down the slope and a leaf follows sliding thirty to forty feet. And the birds are skiing too. I can't begin to count how many have been dining with us, but we've seen all of the following types: chickadees, titmice, cardinals, mocking birds, thrashers, rose breasted grosbeaks, blue gray gnat catchers, gold finch, purple finch, pine siskins, Carolina wrens, and sparrows of all types. I'm glad we can help out our fine feathered friends.

No, Mommy, Don't Make Me!

2011-01-10T15:07:00.001-05:00

~~Too be fair to the pups, when there is four and a quarter inches of snow on the ground and it's topped by a half inch of ice, and you have 4 inch long legs, it's hard to get around. Even if you need to pee and poo. At least, that's what Max was saying as he clung to the garage wall today. Casey was a little bit more adventurous. He did go out a bit with his daddy.

~~Travel around here is very treacherous and yet there are people trying it. I'm hoping no one slides off the street and into our house here in the curve on Carrollton Street. As slick as it is, it's more than possible. Charlotte, Miss Helen's help for today, hasn't been able to come and John has walked and slid across the yard a few times to care for her.

~~Now I know, teachers are the world's biggest weather watchers, but this is the third frozen precipitation event already this winter and it's only January 10. That doesn't bode well for the rest of the season at all. We have the rest of January and all of February, and part of March to go when possible snow events have happened in our neck of the woods. Thank goodness, I'm retired. In fact, we have had snow in April before. I'm not looking forward to such an eventful winter. Just let me stay in doors and have power. That's all I want.

~~So, take care, walk carefully, and don't get too cold.

A Well-Watered Brain...Or Where Do the Words Come From

2011-01-05T09:54:00.001-05:00

~~Many writers swear that their best ideas come right before they go to sleep or when they are in the shower. Whatever the reason is, it seems that we find words when we quit looking too hard. Sometimes I get out of the shower with entire scenes playing out in the most amazing and perfect words. In fact, if I get into my shower after looking over the scene I'm working on, I usually get out with a great idea for carrying the story forward.

~~So how do we not lose all these great ideas and words down the drain? I've always hurried to dry off, running to my nightstand, and grabbing up the notepad and pen that I keep there for the night time ideas and scribble away--in the nude! ; ) But there's a new way to keep from washing the words away with the soap suds--AquaNotes. Yes, it's really a product that is available now. "AquaNotes® is a waterproof notepad that allows you to record your great ideas while you're in the shower. It's so durable you can even write underwater. They're recyclable, environmentally friendly, and the notepad is printed with soy-based ink." If you don't believe me, go HERE to see for yourself.

~~However the words come, I have to say, my word production has really increased in the last 3 or so months. Since the last week of October, I've written, edited and saved over 32,000 words into my Rough Draft file for FRIENDLY FIRE. I've made completing the Rough Draft by the end of March a resolution for my new year. This week, I've gone back into my outline and notes in color what stage each scene is in. It was eye opening and far better than I thought it would be. Here's the stats:
***Scenes that are typed and in the Rough Draft file--26% of the work in progress
***Scenes that are typed and waiting for editing--18%
***Scenes that are still in long hand--36%
***Scenes that are still just a title or possibly a jot list of notes--19%
The last category was the one that pleasantly surprised me. I thought there were far more than there are. So back to the shower for me. Let's get this Rough Draft done! ; )

All Sold Out!

2010-12-22T12:02:00.000-05:00

~~Imagine my surprise this morning when Diane Quimby, the owner of Wiley's Book Exchange and a local author, called to tell me that the store had sold out of both A Christmas Walk and An Easter Walk, and people were asking for them by name. Needless to say, I quickly went to Carrollton to take more of both for the shelves. The article in the Times-Georgian is working wonders. If you haven't read it yet, HERE it is. People are buying last minute Christmas gifts and my books are finishing their lists. If you can't get to the store, you can buy my books online at my website HERE.
~~I'm walking on air as you can imagine. This is so exciting. Next time, I won't be as shocked when the store calls and says, "We need more copies, please." ; )

Christmas Sweaters and A Christmas Book

2010-12-19T14:46:00.001-05:00

~~Merry Christmas! The big day is nearly here and everyone is planning gifts for those around them. John and I have pared down our shopping over the years. We really don't need anything and our wants run more along the lines of having each other and love, peace, and calm. But we did go shopping for the puppies. ; ) Their winter sweaters from last year were woefully small, of course. They are now nearly two years old. The weather has been a bear and they needed sweaters for their walks. We found lovely ones in a catalog and are proud to say the boys look smashing. Don't you agree?

~~I received a great gift this morning as well. Spencer Crawford of the Times-Georgian and The Villa Rican asked to interview me about my new book, A Christmas Walk. The article is wonderful! Spencer is a great friend to all the local writers and this is one example. Go HERE to read the article if you don't get the Times-Georgian.

~~And have a wonderful, peaceful Christmas.

December? Are You Sure?

2010-12-11T08:30:00.001-05:00

~~The calendar says December. The thermometer says it's too cold for January or February. Brrr! Monday and Tuesday will be the coldest yet with lows in the low teens and highs maybe at freezing. Add our colds and sinus infections and you have a horrible mix.
~~Sunday is the day our Angel Tree Gifts are due at church and we are the organizers of this ministry. John suggested it over twenty-five years ago. We get names of needy children from the Carrollton Schools Christmas Sponsorship Program. This year the church is providing gifts for seventy-five children and five adults. The mothers' requests were poignant--flatware, cook books, baking tools, pots and pans. They want to be able to feed their children. John and I are honored and blessed to work with this project every year.
~~On the writing front, I'm doing well. In December I have written 5289 new and reworked words. This includes a comprehensive look at the overarching theme and controlling image of Friendly Fire. To say this is good is an understatement.
~~Book sales have been good. In December, I've been to a family Christmas Party, spoke at Bethel Baptist Church, FBC's Current Events class, and will speak at the Adult I department tomorrow. Add an interview with Spencer Crawford of the Times-Georgian on this coming Wednesday and you have a great sales month. Look for the interview in the "Sunday Living" section of the Times-Georgian on Sunday, December 19.
~~So, enjoy December, freezing temps, snow flurries, gifts, books, good food and family. John and I wish you a very Merry Christmas.

19,248!

2010-12-02T16:46:00.001-05:00

~~That's the number of new words I wrote during the month of November. It was an amazing ride. I'm still going to aim for the 600 words a day average for the next four months in the hopes that I can have a complete rough draft for Friendly Fire by the end of March. That would mark the third anniversary of the dream that introduced me to Laura Grace and Samantha. The ladies have been growing and developing ever since. All of the characters who populate Cherry Hill become more real everyday.
~~Over at the Forum, among the crew of talented writers I share the Research and Craft and Writers Exercises folders with, there was an astounding output of words for NaNo month. The final tally is in the neighborhood of 910,000 words. I'm blown away by the number of creative people who reached the 50,000 goal. That includes one, Clarice in NZ, who wrote 100,000+ words.
~~November is a month to celebrate writers and words. May the words continue to flow for all the writers in the world. I can't live without them. ; )

Pat Down? No Problem, Mon!

2010-11-22T19:45:00.000-05:00

~~It's all over the news.TSA's new secuity measures are causing a fire storm. I have to admit, I'm not worried by it all. You see, I was patted down several times before it became the norm. Only they weren't hunting explosives, but the 'sacred weed, Ganga.' Really. I know you look at my white bread photo and shake your head. Who in their right minds would dream of this little, middle class woman as a drug smuggler? Well, Jamaica customs would. ; )
~~If you know our travel history, you know we have been to Jamaica nine times, Mexico twice, the Bahamas twice, and Aruba once. What can we say, but we love warm beaches in the winter. I had had to take off my shoes several times when they began the pat downs. John, of course, sailed on through in nothing flat, when they began to pull me over. Let me tell you, I've had gentler mammograms. The first time, I was shaking in my socks. Remember, I've already taken off my shoes. ; ) But pat down number two was harder. I nearly laughed in the woman's face. For some reason, I don't think that would be conducive to moving on to the plane for Atlanta. I wouldn't be worried now if I had to be patted down.
~~I'm not trying to make light of any one's concerns. I'm just saying there are far worse things than an airport pat down. Like being blown out of the sky.

I'll Take All the Help I Can Get

2010-11-19T21:51:00.001-05:00

~~It's the Friday before Thanksgiving and I'm up to my ears in chores.
1. Clean the house for company
2. Plan and start the cooking for Turkey Day
3. Keep writing at least 600 words a day and type them all in
~~And I need help! My puppy boys aren't much help unless you count licking my face and wagging tails. Where is my Jesse? Watch this marvelous video clip to see what I mean.
~~Enjoy!

~~By the way, my new word total for Friendly Fire in November is now 14,270. That includes my "monster day" on Thursday when I wrote 1700 words.

Happy Middle of November

2010-11-14T14:32:00.001-05:00

~~It's a gorgeous fall day. The leaves are lovely. Just look at our maple and the ginko at John's mother's house. The weather is changing, though. The forecast is for one to two inches of rain by the end of the day on Tuesday and by then, the leaves will be nearly gone. In fact, the maple tree has dropped three-fourths of its leaves today. Be glad I took the photo yesterday. ; )

~~Today marks the end of NaNo week 2 as well. I'm excited to report that I'm officially over ten thousand words for the month. 10,120 to be exact. And they're mostly good words with very little dreck. Now don't get me wrong, there's still a lot to do on these new scenes, like adding bits of underpainted setting and emotional feelings. Still, I'm very pleased with my month. I've typed all these words in and they're ready for play later. On to new words. At this rate, I'll break 20,000 by November 30. ; )

First November Update

2010-11-07T16:32:00.001-05:00

~~It's the seventh of November and I'm widing up my first week of NaNo inspired writing--4900 new words for Friendly Fire. And I like the words. John does too and that's a wonderful thing. Now if I can keep writing at this pace for the rest of the month, I'll add 19,600 words by November 30. Cheer me on. ; )

NaNoWriMo

2010-11-03T11:02:00.000-04:00

~~If you looked at my blog title and said, "Huh?" you might not be a novelist. National Novel Writing Month (Here) is a concerted effort for novelists to turn out words on their novels. Some opt to start on something new. Others work on their novels-in-progress. Which ever plan a writer has, the goal is to write 50,000 words during the month of November. That's an average of 1,667 a day. It's a staggering number of words. To do it, the writer can't stop and edit. Words have to flood onto the page.
~~Before you question my sanity, I'm not an official participant in NaNo. I know the physical limits of my wrists. But I do have a group of friends on the Forum who are. We have a thread going so that we can share our output and number of words created every day. I'm piggybacking on the energy and momentum of the group. Some of then have already written nearly 10,000 words in two or three days. I'm proud to say, I've been productive if nowhere near their output. I wrote 600 new words on Monday and 900 new words on Tuesday. If I maintain an average of 600 per day for the month, I'll create 18,000 new words for Friendly Fire by the end of November.
~~I'm going to try. Keep your fingers crossed. ; )

The Ghost Speaks

2010-10-29T09:49:00.006-04:00

~~What do you do when a ghost refuses to shut up? If you're a writer, you take dictation. I thought I'd tell you about my ghost. It is nearly Halloween, after all.
~~During the Cherry Hill House Party on the Forum--Here, we found some of the characters in the past of my mythical west Georgia town of Cherry Hill. My novel-in-progress, Friendly Fire, is set in the present, but as I created back story for the other writers, I created a history for Laura Grace Chandler's hometown. That history included the founder, Lawton Cherry or "The Law." As we wrote, he became more than than just a name in the "history book" of Cherry Hill to me. Law Cherry began to speak and tell me his story. I thought you might enjoy reading two snips about my ghost. Who knows, someday I might have to write his story.
#
~~Lawton Cherry was six foot eight and weighed a bit over two hundred pounds. It was the ranginess that fooled them into thinking Cherry was weak. That mistake was apparent the minute they challenged him. Law Cherry could out reach and out punch anyone. For one man, it was his last mistake. But he wasn't worth a cuss any way.
#
~~"Law, I know you is prodigiously wealthy," Josiah Barnes spat a brown stream dangerously close to the large mud-caked shoes, "but why you won't buy a slave that's cheaper than any 'cropper is beyond me."
~~The light brows drew down over the slate blue blue eyes. Anyone else knowing the man well, would have run then.
~~"I might consider it, Josiah, if I needed all my money for 'bacca and lightning like you do." The voice was quiet, but full of disdain.
~~There were only two vices in Lawton Cherry's book--wasting time and wasting his money.
#
~~Have a happy Halloween. May your ghosts all give you good stories. ; )

Entitled To Be the Best

2010-10-18T09:51:00.005-04:00

~~If every sentence of your novel's elevator pitch--the four or five sentence synopsis--doesn't tie back to your title's image and theme, it may not be the right title for your novel. That's what I've discovered was the problem with my novel-in-progress' original working title. Mother's Day referred directly to Laura Grace Chandler, my main character, and indirectly to her daughter, Samantha. The novel is so much deeper and broader and the title wasn't big enough to cover it.
~~Before you remind me that a novel's title isn't set in stone (or ink) until a publisher prints it, let me assure you, I know. My need for the best working title is all for me. When a friend, who knows the story of the novel commented that she wouldn't pick it up if all she knew was the title, I knew something was wrong. In fact, I think I already knew that. I'd been having trouble answering the question, "What is your novel about?" for some time. As I mentioned the characters Rosemary, Dean, and Mack, my subconscious was telling me that Mother's Day didn't fit. So, I went on a title hunt.
~~My first try was Lady in Waiting. At least I could tie this title to Laura Grace, Samantha, and Rosemary. Some of my fellow CCWC members liked it better than Mother's Day, but something was still wrong. Lady in Waiting sounded like a historical romance. And my book isn't either. It's a contemporary and not a romance at all. So, back to the drawing board.
~~On the Forum, the October Exercise in the Writers Exercise folder proved to be fertile ground. And yet, I still didn't see it. John did. The exercise centered on Mack Singer, a retired Marine, now teacher. As he spoke through the free association exercise on physical and emotional abuse of Dean, he used the term "friendly fire" and it was perfect. It just took me a week to realize it.
~~During MeccaFest, I was asked constantly about what I was writing. As I used Friendly Fire to describe my novel, I was struck by how easy it had become to explain my theme. In other words, the perfect title had appeared.
~~So, here it is--my new elevator pitch for Friendly Fire. Tell me what you think. ; )
Our deepest wounds come from the friendly fire of those around us who should be our strongest support. Laura Grace Chandler, a retired, recently widowed teacher, finds her friendly fire comes from losing her husband of many years and childlessness. The foster child she adopts has been sexually abused. Laura Grace's best friend and her son are abused by their husband and father. Healing must come by helping each other. Their new friend, a retired Marine, has wounds from his own friendly fire. Together they will learn to heal and love again. Friendly Fire is the first of two novels set in Cherry Hill, Georgia.
~~By the way, as an added bonus, I've found the title for Friendly Fire's sequel as well--Line of Fire. I'll save that story for another day. ; )

What a Weekend at MeccaFest!

2010-10-15T08:44:00.006-04:00

What a weekend! MeccaFest was a blast, a wonderful weekend, and a great couple of days for the Carrollton Creative Writers Club. The photos above come from our tents where T. L. Gray, Diana Black, Mary Cunningham, and I sold our books. The second photo is of Amanda from Bowdon, one of my customers. I sold a lot of books--more than I really dreamed I would. It's a really good feeling to simply tell someone about your work. When they turn right around and buy a copy, it's beyond good. ; )

Along with selling our books outside amid the art, CCWC also read our works in the Mabry Threatre. Here's a shot of me reading from my novel in progress, Friendly Fire. Applause is as good as a purchased book for a writer's ego.

Penny Lewis, Director of the Carrollton Cultural Art Center, had warned us that there would be some subtle performance art on Sunday. She wasn't fooling! Our 'Bronze Man' was wonderful! He moved through the crowd with deliberate stealth and began interacting. One time I watched him turn a shy 4-year-old ballerina into a fast friend without a word, simply by mimicking her dance positions.

All in all, MeccaFest 2010 was beyond all my expectations. Great job, CCWC and the Artist Guild of the Carrollton Cultural Arts Center. On to next year. ; )

MeccaFest

2010-10-03T14:52:00.004-04:00

It's coming this weekend--October 9 and 10, from 10-5, MeccaFest 2010. If you like good books, come by the CCWC tents near the steps for children's books, devotionals, and novels. Throw in a little women's humor and you have a great selection. My devotionals--An Easter Walk and A Christmas Walk will be on sale both days. Members of the Carrollton Creative Writers Club will be presenting "Local Voices" in the Mabry Theatre of both days. Saturday is 10:30 AM to 3:00 PM and Sunday's readings will be 11:00 AM to 3:30 PM. We will read excerpts from novels and memoirs, poetry, and children's stories. I'm reading at 11:30 on Saturday and at 1:00 on Sunday. Both days will be excerpts from my novel in progress, Mother's Day. Be sure and stop by and say hello.

A Summer's Farewell

2010-09-22T19:43:00.008-04:00

Since summer ends today, I thought I'd say farewell with a few pics of my glorious summer flowers. Enjoy! ; )

May's Stella d'Oro and Lollipop lilies

June's Star Hibiscus and Hydrangea

July's Star Gazer Lilies and Lantana and miniature Crape Myrtle

Temple Founder's Day--hot, hot, hot!

2010-09-19T14:05:00.008-04:00

It was HOT! When you sit in the middle of a parking lot, surrounded by asphalt, you expect the heat, but the reality is way beyond expectations. John said it was only 89 degrees, but it might as well have been 95. There was a breeze and that helped. T. L. Gray and I had a good day selling our books and making contacts with various people. Check you T. L.'s website http://www.thebloodofcain.com/ Her book is wonderful! Be sure to read all the reviews. I recommend it highly if you like good stories that are well told.

We'll both be at MeccaFest, October 9-10, at the Cultural Arts Center in Carrollton. The Carrollton Creative Writers Club will not only be selling our books, but also will be presenting "Local Voices". We will read excerpts, poems, and stories from our works from 10:30 till 3 on Saturday and 11:30 till 4 on Sunday in the Mabry Auditorium. I'll be reading three excerpts form Mother's Day, my novel in progress. At least the readings will be inside. Come and see us at the tents or enjoy the creativity of the members. We'd love to see you all.

Flowers for Our Anniversary

2010-09-10T09:29:00.006-04:00

Aren't they beautiful! Imagine our surprise and delight on Sunday morning to find that one of our friends--Barbara Billert--had bought the flowers for the Sanctuary in honor of our anniversary. We had no clue until someone pointed out the notice in the bulletin. Our dining room table is five feet wide and the flowers are over three and a half feet wide. They made an amazing centerpiece. And if you wondered what was piled up around the flowers, it's stacks of A Christmas Walk. Where else did you think I'd put them? ; )

33 Years! You have to be kidding!

2010-09-04T17:03:00.009-04:00

No, I'm not kidding. Thirty-three years ago on September 4, John and I got married. We were twenty-one years old and ready to take on the world. Since we met at what was then West Georgia College in a Political Science class titled "Foreign Relations", you might not be surprised that we get married at Kennedy Chapel on the Front Campus. At eight in the morning. Really. We knew how busy Maple Street was during the day and wanted the ceremony to be outside on the steps amid the trees and flowers of Front Campus. So, early in the morning on Labor Day Sunday, we said our "I do's". Pleasantly cool air greeted the twenty-three guests. I had made my dress and John's shirt and tie.

After the ceremony, we ate brunch in place of a reception. So is it any wonder, that we celebrated our anniversary with a buffet breakfast this morning? What could be better?

We drove to Savannah for our honeymoon and loved every minute of it. In fact, on our honeymoon, we found that we have a very special freight line. Really. One day during our week in Savannah, we were out on Tybee Island and saw a containerized freight ship coming in the Savannah River channel. It was the Arnold-Mersk. Later stopping at Pulaski National Battlefield, we saw the same ship coming up the river. Hurrying into town, we found the ship sailing slowly past River Street. So now, when we see railroad car after railroad car of Mersk containers, we turn to each other and grin. Some couples have a favorite song. We have a freight line. ; )

Leaving So Soon?

2010-08-31T09:22:00.009-04:00

I really wanted to create a four seasons cherry tree montage for the blog this year, but my cherry tree had other ideas. It's only August and the tree is dropping its leaves like it's October. So, I find myself showing you the aftermath of a record-breaking summer. There's been plenty of rain, but the temperatures have stayed in the 90's almost every day. That's taken a toll on my cherry tree. The photos above are from top left and going clockwise--August, February, April, and June. I'll admit the winter photo of snow-laden branches is not the norm for winter in Georgia. ; ) Usually the tree is lace-work limbs in the winter, clacking in the stiff northwest wind. I couldn't resist the lovely shot I got this year with our snow.

And the Cover Is...

2010-08-18T08:44:00.003-04:00

~~A Christmas Walk is at the printer and will be here in September--right on schedule for Temple Founder's Day on September 18. The cover is glorious! I found the image at http://www.istockphoto.com/ and Diana Black designed the cover around it. Check out Diana's website at http://www.diana-designs.net/ It pays to hire the very best as you can see. ; )

House Party Alchemy

2010-08-09T19:29:00.004-04:00

~~Cherry Hill is magic! When I volunteered to host a Forum house party, I saw it as a chance to try out my novel's setting on a group of talented writers. If Susan, Claire, Deniz, Adderbury, Marilyn, Spesh, Becky, Ron, Jill, and Tara could interact with my small Georgia town well enough to create a story, I would be happy.
~~Well, I'm ecstatic! We had a stellar house party. Among us, we wrote 180,976 words from Thursday night, July 29, to Saturday night, August 7. I had prepared about 10,000 words before hand. I didn't use all of them, and some had to be reshaped to fit the story as we went. As the other writers interacted with their characters, I found myself describing more and more about Laura Grace Chandler's home town, Cherry Hill, Georgia.
~~My characters--Laura Grace, Samantha, Rosemary, and Dean--had to respond to the story as well. I wrote a total of 13,646 words across the nine days of the house party. My total original words of all types connected with the house party is 18,410. That's amazing! Much of this material will be useful with some reshaping in my novel, Mother's Day. More importantly, my understanding of the relationship between Laura Grace and Rosemary has become clear. This is one to the emotional cores of my story. I hadn't seen a way to tell this part of the story until my fellow writers reacted to my town. Now I can write Mother's Day as it should written.
~~To my Forum family, thank you, one and all, dear friends for this gift. It's beyond anything I could have imagined.

House Party? Am I invited?

2010-08-02T12:38:00.004-04:00

~~The short answer is yes! You're invited to travel to Cherry Hill, GA, the setting of my novel in progress.
~~The long answer takes some explaining. ; ) I'm a member of the CompuServe Books and Writers Forum and an active participant in the Writers Exercises folder. My fellow members and I do writing craft exercises every month and every few months, we hold an online house party in the setting of one of our works in progress. This time, my Laura Grace Chandler is hosting over forty characters that range from contemporary to historical and fantasy to scifi. Twelve different writers are adding to the running story that started late Thursday night and will continue into the coming weekend. They are from all over the US, Canada, Australia and New Zealand. We trust each other with our characters and, as the story evolves, we can find our creations doing all sorts of strange and wonderful things. The greatest thing about a house party is that, as you write by the seat of your pants, you have to respond to suggestions and situations you could not have thought of by yourself. Characters have a way of deepening and stretching in reaction to the scenes and the writer's grasp on the person that inhabits their stories deepens with it.
~~If you would like to sample the story go to:
http://community.compuserve.com/n/pfx/forum.aspx?tsn=1&nav=messages&webtag=ws-books&tid=68081
You do not have to be a member of the forum to read the story. But a word of warning: It is wickedly fast, well over 200 posts long, and no where near to completion. You just might find yourself hooked. ; )
If you want to get a glimpse of how we communicate with each other outside of the story, try the commentary thread here:
http://community.compuserve.com/n/pfx/forum.aspx?tsn=1&nav=messages&webtag=ws-books&tid=68082
~~Happy reading! ; )

The Queen's Court

2010-07-20T15:26:00.004-04:00

~~Darkness became an only cat again when Snow died. She took it in stride as with everything. We never saw her hunting for him, but then, she had watched him like a hawk as he felt his way about the house in his last days. She was about fifteen years old by then and we really didn't expect to get more cats until she had purred her last. In fact, she was starting to sleep more and more by the time she was seventeen. Cataracts, reduced hearing, and arthritis were slowing her down to a crawl. We began to talk about what we would do when she was gone from our lives. We thought we might hunt for siblings this time. A yellow tabby and a calico were on our wish list.

~~Then it all changed. Living by a church and across the street from another seemed to make us a animal rescue center. For years, we noticed that people thought that someone who went to church would have pity on a poor abandoned animal. Many dogs and cats had been dropped off in the neighborhood. We weren't in the position to care for them at all. So they either wandered off or found the wildlife to their liking. The woods in the backyard were full of squirrels, birds, rabbits, and chipmunks. It seemed that many a cat made a good living on the edges of our yard.

~~One day in the fall of 1997, we found a young female cat hanging at our door. She was striped like a tabby, but she was not all yellow or gray striped. Her legs would be both in the most interesting fashion. The vet would describe her as a calico tabby. At John's parents' house next door, there was a young yellow tabby male. They were obviously siblings with the same light green eyes and markings. We couldn't resist them, but the male had a lump on his abdomen. We were hooked and decided to keep them outside to spare Darkness the upheaval kittens would cause her very sedate life.

~~Named Sunshine and Meow, the twins had to come in when Sunshine's lump turned out to be an umbilical hernia and he needed surgery. Trying to keep the three separate was impossible. The cats decided that they were going to investigate each other and that was that. We soon realized that the kittens were just what Darkness needed. They would trot just fast enough to keep their tails in her eyesight. She would run as fast as she could, but didn't catch them. That's when we noticed that she was feeling much better. Darkness lived another four years thanks to Sunshine and Meow. They were Maine coon cats while Darkness was a small domestic short hair. She never weighed more than ten pounds in her life. The kittens would top 18 and 22 at one time and yet, Darkness was the undisputed queen of our home. Regal until the end.

~~Sadly, Darkness developed severe dementia at 21. She ceased knowing who we were and began to bite. When she latched onto my hand and refused to let go for minutes at a time, we knew she was ready. She had ceased to purr the last month until we took her in to the vet the last time. Then we were rewarded with the loving little girl we had lived with for so long. In the fall of 2001, Darkness passed into her reward. We have never forgotten her. She'll always be the queen.

Darkness and Daylight

2010-07-12T08:15:00.005-04:00

~~Darkness remained an only cat until she was about two years old when a small white kitten turned up at out house while we were added the garage in 1982. He was a plush, sweet little boy and we had no clue where he came from. But that didn't deter us from feeding him. We quickly decided on a name. Surely it was Daylight to contrast with the Dark girl who already called us family. Until he disappeared...We hunted, but didn't find him. The church next door had been full of kids for Vacation Bible School that week and we thought someone recognized him or picked him up. Sad to say, but the Daylight had gone from our lives.

~~Until...two years later, a sleek white tom came calling at our door. Neighbors nearby had moved and we couldn't find any owners for the cat, so we took him in. The vet said he was about two years old and we had to wonder--had Daylight returned? Not being sure, we named the tom Snow. As you can see from the photo, Snow had a preference of laps--John's. (By the way, this is the only time I convinced John to grow a beard. I think he looks dashing, but the itching thing was red and his hair was blond, so bye, bye beard.) For about ten years, I had fun telling my new students that I had two cats--white and black. I always said, "The white one is named Darkness and the black one is named Snow." The two seconds it took for the information to click was priceless and set a tone of ease for the new class. Of course, some of the kids never believed me that both cats had learned to blow kisses. Snow was not less a champ at that than his sister. ; )

~~Darkness and Snow were our two kitties for about ten years until Snow had a stroke and went blind. He was miserable and wouldn't get out from under the bed. Sadly, we had to let him go. Darkness went back to being an only cat. I'm not sure it mattered to her. After all, she got the choice of laps with no competition.

The Lost Photos

2010-07-05T13:17:00.006-04:00

~~Well, technically not lost. Only not available to upload. Here are three of the photos I've mentioned in other posts. The first one isn't the best one of toddler me and Snowball, but it is the one I found. The best photo shows me center frame with Grandmother's arm holding me back while I'm reaching for all I'm worth for Snowball's tail. ; ) The middle photo is about a year later and, as you can see, I loved Snowball's kisses. The third photo is much younger. I'm probably about 15 and I'm holding Etcetera the Siamese. My how young I look!

~~I bet you're wondering how I scanned these in since my scanner and computer seem not to communicate. What I did was use my Corel Paint Shop program. I was using it for some other task the other day when I noticed the drop down menu included scanner. On the off chance that it would work, I tried it. And lo and behold! It did. So, now I'll be able to illustrate the rest of the Darkness posts correctly. I'll be back later with "Darkness and Daylight".

A Kiss of Darkness

2010-06-28T08:31:00.004-04:00

~~When you have had a pet since you were eight years old, you really feel the lack of having a warm, little, furry animal to love. When we married, we didn't have a choice to take our beloved elderly pets with us to our apartment. It was clearly a NO PETS ALLOWED sort of place. So my kitty, Etcetera, and John's dog, Trouble, had to stay with our parents. How the two would have gotten along is a question that will never be answered. Neither lasted very long, though, and we were soon truly petless. Until...
~~...1980 when we began to extensive renovation of John's grandparents' house in Temple. It's the lovely lady home you've seen all spring in my posts. We moved on September 1 and on September 5, I had us a new kitten. She was small and all black. In fact, she was too young--only five weeks old, but she was ours. I named her Darkness. No usual name like Blackie nor Midnight for my kitty. ; ) Her yellow eyes glowed in contrast to the glossy fur. The vet did ask me what I paid for her. I told him nothing. He grinned and said, "Good. Because you now owe for flea treatment, testing, and worming." I guess $70 wasn't so bad...
~~The first night we took Darkness home, we put her to bed in a large appliance carton. It had all the comforts--litter box, food, water, and bedding. But in the morning, Darkness wasn't in it. Her tiny claws had nicked the side where she climbed out. Now where would you go in a 2000 square foot house when you are only the size of a person's palm? We began the hunt among the boxes and the furniture and finally found her. She had scaled the sofa and was sitting, paws tucked in regal splendor on the folded afghan in the living room. And so the Queen had arrived. ; )
~~From that day forward, she took over our hearts and settled in. And never stopped amazing us. We knew cats greeted each other by touching noses, so we would touch her nose and make a kissing noise. Imagine our surprise when she began to "kiss" us back, smacking her lips. We then would make the sound when we came in the room and would then come over a repeat the nose touch routine. Darkness began to kiss back from a distance. But the day that she kissed us first from the other side of the room was a red-letter day! Who has ever had a cat who blew kisses before? ; )
~~I'll continue Darkness' story in later posts. You've not seen anything yet!

The Day After

2010-06-20T13:08:00.008-04:00

~~It's the day after the 46th Georgia Author of the Year Awards and I didn't win. And that's okay. I have learned so much and I still get warm fuzzies from seeing my book on the table with the other nominees. Check out the photos. My book is the third from the left on the top row. It's a funny thing how something so simple as seeing the cover you designed standing out and shining can be. Simple and moving. An Easter Walk was nominated in the Creative Nonficiton Inspirational category.
~~I'm thankful to John for taking me to the ceremony. We met Joann Dunn, and Frank and Mary Rogers for supper then went to the KSU Center. Joann was nominated in poetry for The Implied Now and Frank's book, Upon a Crazy Horse, netted him a nomination in First Novel. That's a fine sampling of the creative output of the Carrollton Creative Writing Club. Here's to all of you for the lovely words you spin. ; )

Puff, Malek, and Etcetera

2010-06-15T08:55:00.006-04:00

~~The title says it all--at least to someone who knows about my first three cats. I received permission to get a cat when I was eight. I never looked back and thought about what that really meant until much later. What I received was permission to love a being outside of myself on the level I could understand at the time. It was my duty and privilege to care for my cats. No one else would except my mother. My daddy and siblings were dog people. I think all children need this responsibility to learn how to give love, but they also have to have been taught that little animals deserve our best love. They are not toys nor are they ways to express rage. Unfortunately, many never learn this basic truth.
~~My first cat was Puff, a large tuxedo tom in the classic markings. His white, dipped-in-cream feet and white chest were perfect. But why would a tom cat be named such a frilly name? I didn't remember for years until someone reminded me that our first Dick and Jane readers had more than one pet. The cat's name was Puff. That tells me more about myself than the cat. ; ) I loved to read and my cat bore the name with dignity. We lost him to a mouse or rat that had been poisoned with strychnine. I didn't immediately add another cat. Daddy didn't let me. But another cat thought differently about the situation.
~~When a full-grown, plush-coated tom took up with us, I fed him. His smoky gray fur was soft and thick. Pale green eyes watched everything carefully. He had survived without help and he didn't relinquish control of his life. He came and went as he wished and lived with me for several years. I named him Malek after a wolf-human hybrid character in an Andre Norton book. As you can see, I was still reading. Malek was a comfort and a hunter. His skill at catching squirrels from what looked like a deep sleep never ceased to amaze me. He wandered off one day and didn't return, always the independent operator who allowed me to share his life for a while.
~~When I reached ninth grade, my piano teacher raised Siamese cats. She had several and offered to give me a tom from a litter of chocolate points. Daddy agreed and that is why my last cat before graduating from high school and college was named Etcetera. My sister Thea suggested it because the king of Siam always loved saying "et cetera, et cetera" in the "The King and I". And it fit. The long, sleek, sophisticated cat clearly knew he was special. Daddy even allowed him to live inside for a few years. In that time, I became very accomplished at meowing in Siamese. It has a distinctive sound all its own. Etcetera was my confidant when teen-aged angst hit and even took revenge for me when my siblings teased me too much. Have you ever had a large cat pounce into the back of your knees and make you nearly fall? That might be why Daddy decided that in the house was just too close for comfort. Etcetera had a room in the garage with the freezer to keep him warm in the winter. He continued to be my listener as I grew up.
~~All these cats hold special places in my life. That might be why, when John and I moved to a place that would allow us to have pets after three years of marriage, our next cat was home within a week of our move. I'll tell you about Darkness next time. ; )

Hidden Treasure Found

2010-06-08T15:07:00.010-04:00

~~I know what you are saying to yourself right about now--Wait a minute, doesn't Zan Marie have poodles? The answer to that is, yes. But before Casey and Max, I proudly belonged to seven cats. The two in the photos above are the last two, Meow and Sunshine. When I had a problem finding my photo of the boys in their new harnesses, I realized that the memory card wasn't seated fully and the photos saved to the camera's memory instead. Once I downloaded it, I found wonderful photos of the cats. I didn't have a digital photo of Meow at all. At least I didn't think I did. ; )

~~This treasure trove has allowed me to show you the kitties. These two were throw aways that someone left on our doorstep. They were Maine Coon cats and weighed between 13 and 22 pounds during their adult life. Sadly, we lost Meow at eight and Sunshine at 13, both to cancer. It was during Sunshine's last days that John said he wanted puppies and the rest of that story is history.

~~As you can see, Brother Sunshine (Shiney, Shine-Shine) was a gorgeous yellow tabby and huge. The shoe he posed by is one of John's size elevens. The shoe is exactly a foot long. Sister Meow (Yowy, Yow-Yow) was a beautiful calico tabby. She had stripes of both gray tabby and yellow tabby that met up and changed color down her legs--one side gray and other yellow. I truly think she is the most beautiful cat I've ever known.

~~I'll have to tell you about all my cats as the next few posts continue. Unfortunately, my scanner doesn't "communicate with this computer" and I'll not be able to include photos. That is unless you want to come and fix this glitch for me. ; )

Harnessed Power

2010-05-28T08:35:00.004-04:00

~~When the boys were little bitty, the only little bitty harnesses we could find were pink--and embroiderd with flowers. Not the image of our 'brawny' boys at all. ; ) So we waited until they grew up a bit. Now we have have harnessed our puppy power.

~~They walk much better with the harnesses and we aren't afraid we'll choke them by attaching the leashes to their collars. They're growing up and we love it. Now walks are fun. Unless the cats, squirrels, birds, and what have you are out and about. ; )

All Dressed Up

2010-05-24T08:08:00.003-04:00

~~The fine, old lady house is finished and the new paint color is beautiful. When we describe it as a green house, no one will wonder which one on the street we mean. Her old craftsman style trim now stands out. She's got her jewelry on in the form of her Asiatic Lollipop Lilies in full bloom. We are thrilled this project is done. Now, John can go on to his next project. Believe me, I don't create the lists.

Waggle Speed

2010-05-15T14:27:00.004-04:00

~~I've always been fascinated by doggie tails. There's a photo of me as a toddler grabbing for the waving tail of my sister's dog, Snowball. He was half Spitz and half whatever and white all over, of course. Hence the name. In the photo, I'm center frame, Snowball's tail is just out of reach on one side and my grandmother's arm is holding me back on the other. Needless to say, I'm a frustrated little girl. ; )

~~Casey and Max's tails are no less interesting. They go from the fastest pace of a metronome to sweeping slow with tentativeness. When your tail is only two to three inches long, it effects your waggle speed. How is up to each puppy's personal style. Though when they are excited, the difference in the two is very apparent. Max's tiny arc ticks in time to his vibrant, vivacious personality while Casey's slower wag covers a full half circle. He wants only a foot more tail and the feathery fringe of a golden retriever to make a big show. Both have a way to let us know what's up and they're wagging most of the time. ; )

Avian Acrobatics

2010-05-09T08:21:00.015-04:00

~~The cherries are nearly ripe and Mother's Day is here. We can't help but wonder if our avian acrobatic troup is about to appear. Let's be fair, though. We've only seen them once. On Mother's Day 2008, we looked out the solarium windows and found our Yoshino Cherry trees buzzing with wings. Small birds were going in and out. We had never seen them before and had to look them up. They were eating the tiny cherries that our trees create every spring after their glorious blooms are spent. Ornamental trees often produce small fruit that birds and squirrels eat. Our trees are no different. The event inspired a scene for my novel in progress, Mother's Day. The point of view is my main character, Laura Grace Chandler. The child is Samantha, her newly adopted daughter. I hope you enjoy it. ; )

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“Momma!”

I jumped at the sink and water showered my chest not my face. What could be so important this morning? Grabbing the towel, I went to investigate.

“You’ve got to see this!” Her excited voice drew me to the bay window of the living room. Raucous calls of “zeee” rose from fluttering birds in the Yoshino cherry tree on the other side of the deck.

“Oh my.”

“There’s hundreds of ‘em!” Samantha stared, mouth open, as the birds fluttered among the leaves. Acrobatic feats of flying rewarded them with choice, ripe cherries.

“Get the Peterson’s Guide.” My hand rose to my heart. “I can’t believe this, but I believe they're cedar waxwings."

She bounced back and handed me the book. “Waxwings?”

I flipped the pages. “Let’s see. ‘Crested brown bird. Yellow band at tail tip.’ Yes.”

“Look at the wings.” She pointed. “Looks like red Christmas candle wax on ‘em.”

“Guess that’s where they got their name, don’t you? I’ve heard of them all my life, but I’ve never seen one.”

Samantha ran back to the bookshelf and grabbed a book on North American birds. She giggled. “It says sometimes they get drunk if the fruit’s fermented. Calls them ‘tipsy birds.’”

“That would make flying difficult, I imagine.” I laughed. The delight of the birds' antics warmed my heart. “I think they’re tanking up to fly north to their mating range.” I looked back at the field guide. “Yes. Here’s the map.”

“It says they have to sober up to fly again. That’s just weird!” She stared at the birds again. “Wonder how long it will take for them to eat all the cherries?”

“Not long at this rate.” I glanced at the clock. “Oh, Samantha! We have to hurry. The Mother’s Day service won’t wait on us.” I grinned. This was a special day. It was my first Mother’s Day since I had become Samantha’s legal mother.

“Okay. I just got to dress. Then I’ll watch the birds till you’re ready.”

She skipped down the hall in front of me. Thank you, Lord, for the gifts of this day. Samantha’s mine and cedar waxwings to entertain us. I grinned at my reflection. “I don’t deserve this. I’m so happy,” I whispered to the wrinkled face, wreathed in smile lines. As I grabbed my purse, I heard Samantha singing. The child was a happy as I was.

“Momma, I just can’t imagine a tipsy bird staggering on the deck. Bet it’d be as funny as Dale stumbling around when Craig let him drink beer.”

I stopped. Closing my eyes a moment with my hand clinched, I felt my heart thud. Would Samantha ever escape that horror? I took a deep breath. “Let’s go, angel. We’re late.”

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~~Happy Mother's Day to all of you. May your day be filled with delights of family and nature!

Ninety Years Old and...

2010-04-30T09:08:00.010-04:00

~~...in need of a face lift! Our house is a lovely lady, built in 1920 for John's grandparents. It's the first house in Temple to have electricity. His grandfather had a generator that he powered the church, the house, and his stores with. The wood used in construction was cut off the farmland he owned. We started renovation in 1980 and in successive waves, we have lowered the ceilings from twelve feet to ten, refreshed the walls with paint and wallpaper, and added a solarium and second bathroom. The house survived a direct hit from a hundred year old pecan tree during hurricane Opal in 1995.

~~During the last two weeks, John and Rayford, a family friend, have removed the ninety-year-old siding from the west side. It was beginning to show its age. By the way, this is the side of the house with the cherry tree referred to in my blog title. They have replaced it with plywood weather sheathing, house wrap, and new concrete fiber siding. Then they are painting her with a new, darker coat of green paint. If you look at the photos closely enough, you will see the name of the building supply store we purchased materials from. ; )

~~John plans to tackle the east side next spring. Around here, I don't create "Honey do" lists. He creates his own "Honey, I'm going to do this next" lists. It's great to be married to a handyman. ; )

Helping Momma Write

2010-04-17T08:44:00.005-04:00

~~Do you have little helpers when you write? I do. I have two poodle helpers who constantly have to find a way to wiggle their way into the job. I'll be honest, typing is a lot harder when a puppy tongue is licking your thumbs. ; ) Or two puppy feet are propped on your lap and the little head nudges your elbow. That's what happens around here.

~~After realizing they can't make Momma stop working, Casey and Max take up new positions. Casey becomes the guardian of the study and Max sits politely and watches me type. Here's two photos to show the action. I was unaware John was taking the computer one. Max wasn't. ; ) John said it was really cute when Max was reading with me.

~~If you have little helpers, I hope they are as sweet as mine are--at least most of the time.