Okay, you know what a crazy month this has been for me. So I'm posting another piece I wrote for a column in an on-line writing magazine.
Hope your Thanksgiving was crammed with fun and great food. Hope you survived if you shopped til you dropped on Friday.
I'm sooooo close to my NaNoWriMo word count...you're going to be proud of me. Now if I could just muster the guts to post a paragraph or two of what I've written. I actually like my story. I sure hope I'm not deluding myself. I'll have to let you know when I begin to edit. Yikes!
Greener Grass Futures.... (and yes, I know the season doesn't fit, but the random thought works with me today, okay?)
Slack-jawed, almost speechless, my daughter looked at me. “Wow, I think that’s the wisest thing you’ve ever said.”
It was my turn to be speechless. She’d actually heard me? We’d been discussing what ifs and why nots and if onlys. Wracking my brain, I tried to recreate the words that had flowed during lecture #17.I had said something that clicked. What was it?
Cleaned up for publication, here it is. “Don’t spend your time wishing for what you don’t have and aren’t ready to handle, because you’ll miss the great part of being right here, right now.” Sounds, great, I must have “borrowed” it from a wise sage.
I realized that I knew what I was talking about because I was talking about me. Isn’t that what we do? When I make more money, then…., finish my novel…., get a contract…., finish this season of my life… find an agent, then….
I worked for years in a creative part of a non-profit world. Yeah, I know an oxymoron. Organizing, teaching, training and throwing together events and newsletters kept me frazzled and occupied.
One day I looked at a calendar and realized that I’d wished away an upcoming family event while looking forward to a few weeks of rest before the next onslaught of activity.
I now work in an industry that is daily focused. I have 24 hour blocks again instead of chunks of time book ended by events.
Blurry snapshots of my life are not what I want. I’d rather have frozen moments embedded in my thoughts or brief snatches of mental videos.
Even though I want that first novel contract, and would love to be able to write full time without subsisting on mac and cheese, I’m content to do what I need to do to earn those rewards.
Learning the craft of writing has been a pleasant surprise. My mind wraps around my experiences or ideas and is challenged to form a series of words that can evoke emotions or understanding in those who read them. Writing slows my life down, forcing me look at the details of dailiness. Weaving mind pictures, flash freezing moments to cherish, has helped me to live.
Even now, my daughter and her friend clang, crash and laugh in the kitchen. I’m choosing to ignore the mess being created. Anything to keep my fragile web of sanity. The leaves shimmer and shimmy in the slight breeze outside my window. The vivid sky helps me overlook the 95 degree temp with 100% humidity. My husband wanders past, touches my arm and reads over my shoulder. As he rushes away before I can catch him to read the whole thing, I smile, noticing, that at 43 he’s still got it.
Right here, right now, that is where I am. I think I’m going to be okay with that. Of course I will, I have an excellent imagination.
Monday, November 27, 2006
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Serials and Scenarios - Calm, Cool & Adjusted by Kristin Billerbeck
Happy Thanksgiving Everyone. Watch for signs of turkey overdose!
Here's a great book to read while you are flat on your back after holiday feasting.
http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/1591453305
Kristin's Website
http://www.kristinbillerbeck.com/
My Review of Calm, Cool and Adjusted.
Poor Poppy!
She just wants to save the world -- one liver at a time. Poppy didn't take her vow to bring health and well-being to the masses lightly. But the obstacles she faces are bringing her down.
Unbelievers, scoffers and meddlers thwart her every move. Her father flakes out and does something totally unexpected.Dr. Frankenhunk, the handsome plastic surgeon next door, tries all of Poppy's patience and good will. He actually parks his spiffy sports car in front of her organic and peaceful side of their shared office space. The man has nerve; fortunately, she's there to point it out.
Even Lily and Morgan, her spa buddies, won't leave Poppy alone. They actually suggest conversation limits for certain social occasions. A completely maladjusted patient manages to confuse the situation even further.
What's a poor-green-goo-for-dinner loving, just-trying-to-make-everyone-healthy-chiropractor to do?
Everything you want Chick-Lit to be, served with a healthy dose of cleverness. Adorable, fluffy fun. I'd love to hang with Poppy. Well, maybe not for dinner.
Here's a great book to read while you are flat on your back after holiday feasting.
http://www.amazon.com/exec
Kristin's Website
http://www.kristinbillerbeck
My Review of Calm, Cool and Adjusted.
Poor Poppy!
She just wants to save the world -- one liver at a time. Poppy didn't take her vow to bring health and well-being to the masses lightly. But the obstacles she faces are bringing her down.
Unbelievers, scoffers and meddlers thwart her every move. Her father flakes out and does something totally unexpected.Dr. Frankenhunk, the handsome plastic surgeon next door, tries all of Poppy's patience and good will. He actually parks his spiffy sports car in front of her organic and peaceful side of their shared office space. The man has nerve; fortunately, she's there to point it out.
Even Lily and Morgan, her spa buddies, won't leave Poppy alone. They actually suggest conversation limits for certain social occasions. A completely maladjusted patient manages to confuse the situation even further.
What's a poor-green-goo-for-dinner loving, just-trying-to-make-everyone-healthy-chiropractor to do?
Everything you want Chick-Lit to be, served with a healthy dose of cleverness. Adorable, fluffy fun. I'd love to hang with Poppy. Well, maybe not for dinner.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Scribbles and Scrambles - Musical Epiphany
This is a feature I wrote that convicts me everytime I read it. It appeared on the TrueTunes website a few months ago.
Musical Epiphany
Sweaty bodies and the scent of rain filled the sawdust strewn animal barn at the Christian music festival. After being chased by the blowing downpour to the lightning free indoor arena, musicians meandered onto the small stage.
A man with a small girl clasped to his chest stopped in front of a speaker just as one of the guitarists struck a few intense warm-up cords. The toddler jerked and burst into tears. The man looked down, covered the child's ears, and like a salmon swimming upstream, headed toward the back of the huge audience. I huffed, relieved to see that he had "gotten a clue" and decided to put the child's best interest before his desire to be in front of the stage.
Two women behind my family carried on a loud conversation, oblivious to the people who stared at them. Well, actually they bellowed to hear each other over the band. Frustration flooded through me. A child in front of us whined, and his mother told him to stop. He carried on and she finally gave him what he wanted. Then the father and mother engaged in a heated argument over parenting styles. She lost, turned to the white clothed child and chastised him for being dirty.
I leaned over to my daughter and suggested that I should direct them to the parenting information table in the lobby.
As the concert began, the man and the toddler headed back to the stage. He'd draped a blanket over her head, and I shook mine.
I soon focused on the stage as great rock music filled the animal barn. The singer shared parts and pieces of his musical heritage. He'd grown up in the church and had spent a lot of his life going through the motions musically. He didn't understand why the church lacked the overwhelming emotion of the brokenhearted street performers who grabbed his heart. After all, shouldn't Christians be the most grateful, broken-hearted people in the world? Believers are delivered from despair and death by the victory won by Christ, the lover of their souls.
On his journey to find the passion missing in the church, the singer found his voice, capturing the words of God in rock and blues styles of music. The notes of his "signature piece" poured out, and a conversation I'd taken part in months earlier came to mind. A musically talented friend of ours, frustrated with his standstill in the music business, brought up the song the man on the stage sang. The conversation had gone down a negative road. My husband and I had listened to our friend's "expertise" and agreed with him. We didn't "care for" the style of the song.
Pierced, I listened to the music with my heart instead of my mind.
"Who am I?" I thought as the truth of the song and the reality of worship as it was meant to be, swirled around me. My focus was wrong. My attitudes were wrong, so very, very wrong.
How easily I make snap judgments or "discernments." Me, sitting in judgment of the family with the dirty, misbehaving children, the conversationalists, the musicians and the man with the blanket clad child – the man, who now stood with one arm raised to heaven.
God tweaked my heart painfully. How could I pick apart the sacrificial offering of a fellow servant, being a simple servant myself? What difference does it make if I prefer one musical style over another? If a song is written to praise God, using some of God's own words or feelings that wash over the author as God reveals Himself, that song belongs to God. It becomes as sacred as prayer.
I can't redeem anyone's past, or see into anyone's future. Nor can I touch someone's soul without God's heart beating in my own. How could I know if the risk to a child's ears was more or less important than being in the arms of a man who loved her? Maybe God will use the love of music to grasp hold of her heart. Maybe music will be the special connection between the two of them as she grows into a young woman.
God can intervene and heal relationships and maybe the family struggle we witnessed will be eased because of their experience at the concert. A song, whether I like the beat or the words, may grasp a heart that is wandering away from God. A song, sung with a heart that beats with the powerful love of God could accomplish exactly what God desires.
Musical Epiphany
Sweaty bodies and the scent of rain filled the sawdust strewn animal barn at the Christian music festival. After being chased by the blowing downpour to the lightning free indoor arena, musicians meandered onto the small stage.
A man with a small girl clasped to his chest stopped in front of a speaker just as one of the guitarists struck a few intense warm-up cords. The toddler jerked and burst into tears. The man looked down, covered the child's ears, and like a salmon swimming upstream, headed toward the back of the huge audience. I huffed, relieved to see that he had "gotten a clue" and decided to put the child's best interest before his desire to be in front of the stage.
Two women behind my family carried on a loud conversation, oblivious to the people who stared at them. Well, actually they bellowed to hear each other over the band. Frustration flooded through me. A child in front of us whined, and his mother told him to stop. He carried on and she finally gave him what he wanted. Then the father and mother engaged in a heated argument over parenting styles. She lost, turned to the white clothed child and chastised him for being dirty.
I leaned over to my daughter and suggested that I should direct them to the parenting information table in the lobby.
As the concert began, the man and the toddler headed back to the stage. He'd draped a blanket over her head, and I shook mine.
I soon focused on the stage as great rock music filled the animal barn. The singer shared parts and pieces of his musical heritage. He'd grown up in the church and had spent a lot of his life going through the motions musically. He didn't understand why the church lacked the overwhelming emotion of the brokenhearted street performers who grabbed his heart. After all, shouldn't Christians be the most grateful, broken-hearted people in the world? Believers are delivered from despair and death by the victory won by Christ, the lover of their souls.
On his journey to find the passion missing in the church, the singer found his voice, capturing the words of God in rock and blues styles of music. The notes of his "signature piece" poured out, and a conversation I'd taken part in months earlier came to mind. A musically talented friend of ours, frustrated with his standstill in the music business, brought up the song the man on the stage sang. The conversation had gone down a negative road. My husband and I had listened to our friend's "expertise" and agreed with him. We didn't "care for" the style of the song.
Pierced, I listened to the music with my heart instead of my mind.
"Who am I?" I thought as the truth of the song and the reality of worship as it was meant to be, swirled around me. My focus was wrong. My attitudes were wrong, so very, very wrong.
How easily I make snap judgments or "discernments." Me, sitting in judgment of the family with the dirty, misbehaving children, the conversationalists, the musicians and the man with the blanket clad child – the man, who now stood with one arm raised to heaven.
God tweaked my heart painfully. How could I pick apart the sacrificial offering of a fellow servant, being a simple servant myself? What difference does it make if I prefer one musical style over another? If a song is written to praise God, using some of God's own words or feelings that wash over the author as God reveals Himself, that song belongs to God. It becomes as sacred as prayer.
I can't redeem anyone's past, or see into anyone's future. Nor can I touch someone's soul without God's heart beating in my own. How could I know if the risk to a child's ears was more or less important than being in the arms of a man who loved her? Maybe God will use the love of music to grasp hold of her heart. Maybe music will be the special connection between the two of them as she grows into a young woman.
God can intervene and heal relationships and maybe the family struggle we witnessed will be eased because of their experience at the concert. A song, whether I like the beat or the words, may grasp a heart that is wandering away from God. A song, sung with a heart that beats with the powerful love of God could accomplish exactly what God desires.
Monday, November 20, 2006
Scribbles and Scrambles - Why I Write...
At the end of October I promised to post even more random and strange things since I would be up to my eyebrows in words for my self-imposed NaNoWriMo deadline. I currently have 33,000 words of the 50,000 required and I don't hate the story. This is good.
Anyhoo, an internet writing group/loop posed the following question: How do you explain your compulsion to write to non-writing friends and family?
My answer:
I drool and act edgy until my husband suggests I put in a little writing time.
No. I use the hunting analogy.
My husband is an avid deer hunter. When the season rolls around, he starts rack shopping, even if the freezer's full. One year we drove by a perfect Christmas card scene. Huge puffy snowflakes swirled in the air and danced in front of a brilliant moon. Trees glistened with icy glitter and a massive buck stood in the midst of it all. I was awed into silence.
My husband expelled a breath, and then said. "I wish I had my gun."
I need to write like he is driven to clomp through icy streams, sit in trees in negative temperatures, and shoot Bambi.
Anyhoo, an internet writing group/loop posed the following question: How do you explain your compulsion to write to non-writing friends and family?
My answer:
I drool and act edgy until my husband suggests I put in a little writing time.
No. I use the hunting analogy.
My husband is an avid deer hunter. When the season rolls around, he starts rack shopping, even if the freezer's full. One year we drove by a perfect Christmas card scene. Huge puffy snowflakes swirled in the air and danced in front of a brilliant moon. Trees glistened with icy glitter and a massive buck stood in the midst of it all. I was awed into silence.
My husband expelled a breath, and then said. "I wish I had my gun."
I need to write like he is driven to clomp through icy streams, sit in trees in negative temperatures, and shoot Bambi.
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Serials and Scenarios - Scoop - Rene Gutteridge - Part 2
Rene Gutteridge picked and answered some of my random questions. I tell ya, she's cute. The questions are red, the answers blue.
Pink iguana, purple cow, periwinkle giraffe. Which one and why?
Purple cow. Love the color and a good steak.
Two middle-aged females talking animatedly. One wears a very short skirt, and she ought not to be……………. Give me a scene, dialogue, characterization, drama……
Gosh, I kind of like your sentence: One wears a very short skirt and she ought not to be. Kind of says everything there is to say!
"It is a fair, even-handed, noble adjustment of things, that while there is infection in disease and sorrow, there is nothing in the world so irresistibly contagious as laughter and good-humour." -- A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens
I suppose I would write as many movies as I could. I love writing novels but I also love screenwriting.
A good night's sleep; knowing God has used me in some way; watching my children succeed at what they're trying; star gazing; a cold winter day with a fire, hot cocoa, and my loved ones with me.
How does something worm its way into your heart? Through tears, truth, humor, etc.....?
Humor. If it can make me laugh then it can make me cry, but the reverse is not true. It is much harder to make me laugh, so if you do it, especially if it's wrapped in truth, then you've won my heart.
Favorite book setting and why?
I love the setting of A Christmas Carol, so much so that I actually have a huge collection of the Department 56 village called Dickens Village. It has everything from that world he so vividly described. Though it was a wretched time, he somehow makes me want to be there.
Which compliment related to your writing has meant the most and why?
The highest compliment for me is when someone sees the truth and believes it because of something they've read of mine. That is the greatest triumph. A close second is when someone writes me to tell me how much one of my books made them laugh. I love to know people are laughing, especially when life isn't easy for them at the moment.
What criticism has cut the deepest and why?
I have a really rough time with someone questioning my spirituality because of something that they've read in one of my books...or, as has been the case, questioning it before they even read one of my books.
Thanks for playing along, Rene.
Pink iguana, purple cow, periwinkle giraffe. Which one and why?
Purple cow. Love the color and a good steak.
Two middle-aged females talking animatedly. One wears a very short skirt, and she ought not to be……………. Give me a scene, dialogue, characterization, drama……
Gosh, I kind of like your sentence: One wears a very short skirt and she ought not to be. Kind of says everything there is to say!
Favorite turn of phrase or word picture, in literature or movie.
"It is a fair, even-handed, noble adjustment of things, that while there is infection in disease and sorrow, there is nothing in the world so irresistibly contagious as laughter and good-humour." -- A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens
What would you write if there were no rules or barriers? (epic novels about characters in the Bible, poetry, greeting cards, plays, movies, instruction manuals, etc.)
I suppose I would write as many movies as I could. I love writing novels but I also love screenwriting.
What makes you feel alive?
A good night's sleep; knowing God has used me in some way; watching my children succeed at what they're trying; star gazing; a cold winter day with a fire, hot cocoa, and my loved ones with me.
How does something worm its way into your heart? Through tears, truth, humor, etc.....?
Humor. If it can make me laugh then it can make me cry, but the reverse is not true. It is much harder to make me laugh, so if you do it, especially if it's wrapped in truth, then you've won my heart.
Favorite book setting and why?
I love the setting of A Christmas Carol, so much so that I actually have a huge collection of the Department 56 village called Dickens Village. It has everything from that world he so vividly described. Though it was a wretched time, he somehow makes me want to be there.
Which compliment related to your writing has meant the most and why?
The highest compliment for me is when someone sees the truth and believes it because of something they've read of mine. That is the greatest triumph. A close second is when someone writes me to tell me how much one of my books made them laugh. I love to know people are laughing, especially when life isn't easy for them at the moment.
What criticism has cut the deepest and why?
I have a really rough time with someone questioning my spirituality because of something that they've read in one of my books...or, as has been the case, questioning it before they even read one of my books.
Thanks for playing along, Rene.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Serials and Scenarios - Scoop - Rene Gutteridge - Part 1
Rene Gutteridge is adorable. I had the opportunity to sit in two of her classes at the conference I attended in Dallas in September. Not only does she share tons of helpful information, she's a giggle a minute.
I do have the distinction of being one of the only people ever kicked out of her comedy class...but that's another story. Okay. I didn't get kicked out. Michelle and I left BECAUSE Michelle got such a horrid case of the giggles we became a distraction. You know how you just can't take some people out in public. Michelle is NOT one of those, but I think I wore off on her as the weekend progressed. She was punchy when we entered the classroom, and she progressed to one heartbeat away from scream laughing over a flying mint. Go figure. Anyhow, I
missed Rene's great comedy workshop - I'll have to see if I can't tape Michelle to a wall next time Rene offers it.
Come back tomorrow for some great answers to questions I asked Rene.
For those of you keeping track...I have now penned/typed 25,000 words for NaNoWriMo. (the crowds go wild) Thanks.
Go check out Scoop: http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/1400071577
And Rene: http://www.renegutteridge.com/splash.html
My Review:
Scoop is the first novel I've read by multi-published author Rene Gutteridge.
I will be reading more.
For starters, how can I not like a book containing a woman with a clown phobia? This is not a main plot point, but it's a hint at the quirkiness that weaves through the story of Hayden Hazard.
Told from several viewpoints, one of them a charming, hunky news reporter, this story gets behind the scenes of a news station.
The plot moves rapidly, and the characters are charming. A hint of chick-lit flair with moderate romance, it also contains a bit of suspenseful mystery, and is sprinkled throughout with humor.
I love Rene's series idea -- the Occupational Hazards. A family of clowns scrambling for different lives after the untimely and mysterious death of Mom and Dad Hazard leaves the bunch of near adults orphaned, and a big entertainment company requesting to purchase the famous Hazard clown empire.
Faith plays a huge part within the story. Hayden believes in public prayer even when her frazzled boss demands otherwise.
This is a fun read. However, if you are a homeschooler or have been homeschooled, and you don't find this a subject to take lightly and with humor, you could get offended.
I do have the distinction of being one of the only people ever kicked out of her comedy class...but that's another story. Okay. I didn't get kicked out. Michelle and I left BECAUSE Michelle got such a horrid case of the giggles we became a distraction. You know how you just can't take some people out in public. Michelle is NOT one of those, but I think I wore off on her as the weekend progressed. She was punchy when we entered the classroom, and she progressed to one heartbeat away from scream laughing over a flying mint. Go figure. Anyhow, I
missed Rene's great comedy workshop - I'll have to see if I can't tape Michelle to a wall next time Rene offers it.
Come back tomorrow for some great answers to questions I asked Rene.
For those of you keeping track...I have now penned/typed 25,000 words for NaNoWriMo. (the crowds go wild) Thanks.
Go check out Scoop: http://www.amazon.com/exec
And Rene: http://www.renegutteridge.com
My Review:
Scoop is the first novel I've read by multi-published author Rene Gutteridge.
I will be reading more.
For starters, how can I not like a book containing a woman with a clown phobia? This is not a main plot point, but it's a hint at the quirkiness that weaves through the story of Hayden Hazard.
Told from several viewpoints, one of them a charming, hunky news reporter, this story gets behind the scenes of a news station.
The plot moves rapidly, and the characters are charming. A hint of chick-lit flair with moderate romance, it also contains a bit of suspenseful mystery, and is sprinkled throughout with humor.
I love Rene's series idea -- the Occupational Hazards. A family of clowns scrambling for different lives after the untimely and mysterious death of Mom and Dad Hazard leaves the bunch of near adults orphaned, and a big entertainment company requesting to purchase the famous Hazard clown empire.
Faith plays a huge part within the story. Hayden believes in public prayer even when her frazzled boss demands otherwise.
This is a fun read. However, if you are a homeschooler or have been homeschooled, and you don't find this a subject to take lightly and with humor, you could get offended.
Friday, November 10, 2006
Serials and Scenarios - Cubicle Next Door - Siri Mitchell - Day 3
Hey guys,
My e-mail and Blogger don't communicate very well. Hmmm. Don't know what that means. But I've been given a different link for The Cubicle Next Door, the one I gave you on Wednesday is not the correct one. Apparently the cyber monkies messed it up enroute. And well, with my limited knowledge of all things technical, those monkies don't have to work too hard to confuse me. Do cyber-monkies resemble flying monkies from the Wizard of Oz? Shudder. Do they eat cookies?
Anyway, this should take you there....
http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0736917586
If you haven't been snooping around and checking out Cubicle I really need to wonder why.
Now get over there and check it out.
Oh, Happy Friday, and have a great weekend.
My e-mail and Blogger don't communicate very well. Hmmm. Don't know what that means. But I've been given a different link for The Cubicle Next Door, the one I gave you on Wednesday is not the correct one. Apparently the cyber monkies messed it up enroute. And well, with my limited knowledge of all things technical, those monkies don't have to work too hard to confuse me. Do cyber-monkies resemble flying monkies from the Wizard of Oz? Shudder. Do they eat cookies?
Anyway, this should take you there....
http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0736917586
If you haven't been snooping around and checking out Cubicle I really need to wonder why.
Now get over there and check it out.
Oh, Happy Friday, and have a great weekend.
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