About Me

Friday, December 29, 2017

Accepting A Challenge

I just signed on to write a blog a day through the month of January. I hope to produce thirty-one blogs in all. I know, I know, I must be a glutton for punishment or torture, or whatever you want to call it. 

My good friend, Jean Lauzier, was spreading the word about the January 2018 Ultimate Blog Challenge set out by www.ultimateblogchallenge.com, so I joined. 

Didn't spend a lot of time considering what it would take to meet the challenge. After all, for more years than I can recall I've practiced Julia Cameron's recommendation to do Morning Pages. Never heard of it? Every morning after that first cup of coffee while catching up on social media postings, I sit at the desk in my bedroom, light a lovely scented candle - my favorite is usually some spicy fragrance - and write by hand for as much nonstop as possible to fill three pages of a lined spiral notebook.

Sometimes I find myself writing the daily weather I see out the nearby bedroom window, or even comment on the bird and squirrel activity. Recording what I'd gotten into or accomplished the previous day can help fill the lines. Sometimes I have to resort to writing "I can't think of anything to write about." Actually, what you end up writing isn't important. The whole point of this daily activity is to train your brain and hand to a automatically respond and start writing when you grasp a pen or pencil. I hope this activity will keep the juices flowing.

My granddaughter has gotten me well-supplied for the second year in a row by including a couple notebooks and some smooth-writing pens in my Christmas present.

So, instead of once a week, for the whole month of January you can look forward to reading something from me every day. Aren't you excited?

By the way, if you want to check out the instigator, my friend Jean's blog, just click on her blogsite, 

Friday, December 22, 2017

From 'five-and-dime' to 'dollar'

My brother, who recently moved here, asked if there were any Dollar Tree stores in the area.

"We have one in Longview and then there are the Family Dollar and Dollar General stores conveniently located." Seems like every community has one or another convenient for that quick dash to pick up one or two items. They remind me of the Woolworths and Ben Franklins of my growing years.

My first commercial job while still in high school was in that kind of a store. Lincoln Store in Norwich, Connecticut had just about anything you needed but it was more like a Penney's store with furniture and appliances.

Christmas that year, I got permission for my parents to take advantage of my employee discount. They waited until Christmas Eve to come to town for their shopping. Every once in a while, I caught sight of them from my workstation - list in hand, seeking out the least costly item to fill their shopping basket. When you're buying gifts for a family of ten, you have to make a little go a long way.

As my thoughts connected the Woolworths of old with the Dollar Generals of today, I couldn't ignore the irony. In my lifetime, we have gone from a 'five-and-ten', as the old stores were known, to the present-day 'dollar' stores.

Saturday, December 16, 2017

Words, Words and More Words

I am fascinated by words..mostly those that have passed out of common usage. Words like flummoxed, lackadaisical, flotsam. One of my research investment was a copy of English Through The Ages. This book can tell me when a word first came into use. I also have a copy of the Oxford American Dictionary with the copyright date of 1979.

Take the word 'flummox'. It first came into use in 1840. It's a verb recognized as British slang and means to baffle. 'Lackadaisical' is an adjective that's been around since 1770 and means just what it sounds like: lacking vigor or determination; unenthusiastic.

Some of these old words seem to sing. Can you hear it? Lack - a - dai- si- cal? Of course, writing for the current reader, it's almost impossible to incorporate any of these fun words. However, I did manage to insert one - flotsam - in the first novel I wrote, 'Til Death Do Us Part.

My brother, who recently came to live with me, was reading this book and had to stop to ask me what the word meant. Oh well.

Saturday, December 9, 2017

Life Changes Keep On Happening

My life took another sharp turn this weekend. My big brother has moved here from Kentucky and will be temporarily living in the vacant RV camper. The same one that was home to my son for three years until he bought and moved a house onto our piney woods property. This place is beginning to look like a family enclave.

My younger brother took advantage of the opportunity and volunteered to move Joe down here. It's been a number of years since I've seen either of them, so there's a lot of talking and catching up going on while we unload the trailer and find a place to store everything.

They pulled up around one this afternoon, a big white box mounted on a trailer contained all my brother's earthly belongings. Sadly, Joe wasn't able to bring his dog with him but they found a welcoming new home for him before they left. By evening, the RV had been moved and leveled. All my brother's tools stored in the long-unused duck house built for me years ago by my fathe  when I played at being a country girl.

Tomorrow comes the moving of household goods and personal stuff into the camper, something that will keep my brother occupied for some time.

So now comes the adjustment to sharing my life with someone again after being alone for the past eight months. Time to once again put into practice the give-and-take of compromise.

It's a win-win situation. As his Alzheimer's progresses, I'll be able to fill in the missing blanks. He's going to be a real help bringing all this neglected property back to life and restoring garden beds that haven't had attention for a few years.

Friday, December 1, 2017

How Many Is Too Many?

Scrolling Facebook posts today, I came upon an exchange where an author asks, "How many errors are too many?" The author was concerned over his publisher's cavalier attitude about allowing a manuscript to be published with errors. My immediate reaction was to advise him to take his manuscript and run. 

We Indie book producers have been fighting an uphill battle to be acknowledged by the public and book publishing industry as producing bona fida 'real books.' Those writers I'm acquainted with strive to make their manuscripts as error free as humanly possible. We go to great lengths, sometimes sending the finished work to two and three editors in our attempt to produce the best work we possibly can.

I just finished reading "The Devil Wears Pravda", a best-seller a few years back which eventually became a popular movie. No, this is not a book review. It was produced by Doubleday, a division of Random House, one of the major American publishing houses. Granted what I was reading is what's known as an Advance Reading Copy, but really?

I lost count of how many times miss-spelled words, missing words, miss-used words and even absent complete phrases jolted me out of the story. My understanding of the publishing process--and experience--is that all editing and proof-reading happens BEFORE a single word is printed on the paper. 

The ease of digital printing has opened the door for anyone to produce a book; there are somewhere between 600,000 and 1,000,000 books published every year in the US alone. Quantity does not always mean quality. And quality is what keeps readers waiting in anticipation of your next book.

Anyone agree with me? I'd love your reaction to errors in a book you've read.

Friday, November 24, 2017

It's All Over But The Leftovers

Thanksgiving is our most family-oriented holiday. It's the one day a year set aside for families to get together and just be family. For most people, that means a crowd around a loaded table, cousins getting reacquainted, menfolks gathered around the television set.

For as many years as I can remember, ever since our two sons married, had families of their own, and started new traditions, my husband and I made the two-hour trip to Dallas to share this day with his extended family who all lived in that area. Because of my husband's declining health, last year was the first we've missed. And with his death earlier this year, I found it difficult to generate any kind of interest...it would be just another day for me.

My granddaughter had different expectations. It was Wednesday, the day before Turkey Day. We were in Longview having lunch at China King when she dropped the bombshell. Despite the fact they are still unpacking boxes in their new house they moved into two weeks ago, she wanted a thanksgiving dinner -- turkey and dressing served and eaten in their new home.

My brain went into a whirl. It'd been years since I cooked a turkey, never mind all that went with this traditional meal. What to do? What to do? I mentally scanned those restaurants I thought might possible have turkey and dressing on their menus. Luby's was close by...I bet they would be offering it.

With four turkey and dressing LouAnn meals bought and paid for, our next stop was WalMart for the necessary pumpkin pie. I out-voted her Cool Whip and picked up a container of heavy cream, deciding I'd have time to whip up the real thing.

When I arrived, carrying my bowl of whipped cream, the pie was almost baked and they had unpacked the china plates Carlie had inherited from her other grandmother. Even her busy mother dropped in long enough to share the meal. So, possibly, a new tradition was begun.

There was even enough turkey & dressing to take home for a sandwich later.

Tuesday, November 14, 2017

Picking Up The Pen

Could it be a sign that my life is beginning to resemble some order and consistency? Our writers group scheduled a NaNo write-in for its regular meeting this month. November, for you non-writers' information, is National Novel Writing Month. The goal is to challenge yourself to write 50,000 words in one month. Actually its grown to include writers internationally who challenge and encourage one another during the ordeal through the website and locally.

One of those ways is to gather together just to write. I didn't find myself in a position to accept the challenge and sign in but did want to participate in the local write-in. So, I dug and pulled out a work-in-progress covered in dust. My first glance at the scratchpad of notes told me this story began  life in October of 2016. Wow! That meant I'd not done any of what I call 'real writing' in over a year.

It took me a couple hours to gather notes and locate long-forgotten websites I'd used in my researching. Since I needed to familiarize myself with the story-to-be, I decided my time at the write-in would be spend reading through what I'd already written and the assortment of research notes I'd gathered already. I would make notes to move the story forward.

That evening, after a short business meeting, the group broke for snacks before the writing began. I drew my yellow pad close, picked up my pen, and began to write.


I filled an entire sheet before coming to a stop. To add cream to my coffee, my waking minutes the next day were filled with 'what ifs' and 'I needs' connected with the story -- a good sign that my writing cells have reawakened. With only about 3,000 words written into the story, I have a lot of research and writing to do. But, its such a good feeling to know my writing self has been restored and is alive and well once again.

Thursday, November 9, 2017

Background 'noise' or not

I've been giving some thought to a body's need for silence. What kicked it off was my granddaughter's comment as she moved her bedroom furniture from my place to her new house. "You need music playing in the house, Grandma."

Then, this morning I get a text from son commenting on the quiet of his new house. Meanwhile, I'd spent my 'Morning Pages' time writing with the window beside me open to catch outdoor sounds. There's always a steady stream of traffic noise coming from a close-by highway mixed in with the chatter of wildlife. Occasionally, I'd catch the sound of wind gusting through the treetops.

Some people keeps the television on throughout the day but I'd have a problem with the 'talking heads. I'am partial to music playing while a project keeps me occupied...usually classical streaming on my computer because my radios won't pull in the distant signal. Other times, I like to listen to a christian station except sometimes the newer songs come across too heavily imbued with a rock beat. That's when the instrumentation overpowers the vocal and you have no idea what message is being sung.

My background noise is usually the tinkling of wind chimes. I have a musical set on both my front porch and back deck. Depending on which is in motion, the steady chime tells me which way the wind is blowing. Sometimes, though, my choice is silence. I find it necessary so I can listen and sort out the multitude of thoughts that flash through my mind. That's when I head for my grove of planted pines and walk the rows, up and down, back and forth, with only the whisper of my footsteps on the bed of fallen needles. The trees absorb all traveling sounds and create a deep silence I find very comforting.

Just goes to show how individually we've been created.Whatever background noise...or no background noise you prefer, doesn't really matter. What matters is that you make the most of these limited days we are given here on this earth.

Wednesday, November 1, 2017

Nothing Lasts Forever

I've been working on Christmas gifts - making some pieced quilts for loved ones. This morning, my 'old faithful' sewing machine decided to jam and nothing I did could set it free. You have to understand, this has been a dependable workhorse for many, many years. I inherited it from a sister who's life was cut short with a brain tumor. I have no idea how long she used it but it has been serving me faithfully for almost twenty years.

This was not one of those 'do-everything' modern machines to begin with. It came enclosed in a desk-like piece of furniture which pleased me greatly. Over the years I've owned and used it, this machine has helped produce multiple baby quilts, thrown-together-quickly blankets for people left homeless because of disasters, and a whole slew of other sewing projects.

The machine has made its share of visits to the repair shop over the years and the last time I took it in, the technician couldn't guarantee how long "the fix would hold" and that replacement parts were getting difficult to find. That was a few years ago and it hummed along for me until today.

Guess I'm being forced to invest in a new machine but I'm really not interested in those mind-boggling machines that do everything while you watch it in action.

Got me to thinking about how nothing man-made keeps running forever. Living out here in the country, seems like there's always something breaking down and needing fixing. And not just machinery, sometimes even this human substance I inhabit fails me. Guess my parts are also beginning to wear out after seventy-plus years.

Thursday, October 26, 2017

Why a cypress and a fig tree?

I look out my back window and spot the rusty fall foliage of our cypress tree. In line behind it, is a bare-branched fig tree. Earlier this spring, the fig was loaded with forming fruit. But a dry summer and birds stole my delicious harvest this year.

As I take in the sight, my curiosity is challenged. Although he never considered himself a gardener, both of these trees were planted, grown, and tended by my husband. Nothing else growing on our property ever got his attention.

Just for fun, I googled both the cypress and the fig, seeking their symbolism.

The cypress was associated with death and the underworld because it failed to regenerate
when cut back too severely. It is considered a symbol of mourning and in the modern era it remains the principal cemetery tree in both the Muslim world and Europe.

Among the oldest types of tree in the world, cypress trees date back over 150 million years. An interesting correlation, in many countries including China and Japan, cypress is one of the woods commonly used in coffin construction. Its wood is known to be water-resistant, strong and durable and is commonly used in boat-making even today, God commanded Noah, "So make yourself an ark of cypress wood” in Genesis 6:14.

The Biblical connection for the fig tree is even stronger. Adam and Eve used the leaves of the fig tree to sew garments for themselves when they realized that they were naked. Remember when Jesus cursed a fig tree in the New Testament? The fruit of
the fig-tree normally appears before the leaves. If the tree produced leaves it ought also to have had fruit. Was that the reason Jesus cursed it...because of no fruit?

I find it interesting that one tree figured in the beginning of life and the other connected with the end. I don't know what attracted my husband's interest to these two particular trees. Something I must remember to ask of him when we are re-united. In the meantime, I'll just enjoy the pleasing sight and...maybe next year...some fruit.

Thursday, October 19, 2017

An Interesting Observation

Several years ago my husband, a friend, and I spent a spring Saturday morning planting pine seedlings. I lost count once we passed one hundred. Off to one side of the major planting, I set out six trees, all by themselves.

Recently, in order to make way for a house being moved onto the property, a thirty-foot-wide easement had to be cleared. Lots of trees had to come down as a result, leaving mounds of cut branches to be disposed of. Resting from my labors, I sat in my lawn chair and contemplated those six trees, now grown, tall and straight.

Two have only a stump remaining, having to be cut down. three others look naked with branches on one side cut away. The remaining tree left standing has branches crowded from another tree too close by. Out of the six trees, all planted at the same time, only one remains intact, reaching for the sky.

Gazing at these trees got me thinking about life. Some lives are cut short early by happenings beyond their control. For others, their growth is altered by circumstances but they continue to flourish. Still others maintain a full life in spite of life's pressures reshaping their growth.

In most instances, we have no control over the bumps and twists taken on our life's path. All we can do is grab what comes our way and make the most of it. If that sound pessimistic, it's not. Face each day with optimism, seeking to share love and do the best you can with what you have.

Thursday, October 12, 2017

It Happens In Threes

What do you write about when life is a series of road bumps? And why do they always come three-at-a-time?

Compared to millions of people inhabiting this earth, I have a wonderful life filled with possessions that should remind me of how well off I am. But, when those same machines created to bring ease and comfort start to malfunction, I tend to bog down in stress.

It started with the act of adding window washer liquid to my newly-acquired Kia's tank. As the serviceman poured, I noticed a steady drip down below. Result? A leaking tank needs replacing.

Last week I opened my washer's lid to find the clean clothes standing in water. When my son had time to check it out, his recommendation was a circuit board needed replacing.

Recently fall arrived with a 40-degree drop of temperatures in a matter of hours. Needing a little warmth to take off the chill, I struggled to get the pilot light lit on my propane heater. Nope. Had to make-do with a portable space heater temporarily.

So, I started looking for the lesson in all of these inconveniences...and that's all they are, temporary inconveniences. I still have a roof over my head, food in the house, clothes to wear, and money in the bank. Well, enough money to pay my bills anyway.

I'm not mechanical so whenever something breaks down or malfunctions, I call for help.

My first realization was how much I depended on my now-gone husband to keep my life running smoothly for the fifty-nine years we were married. Then I gave thanks for a capable son who lives nearby and is always ready to come rescue me despite a ten-hour workday. And I know there is a world of people ready and willing to share the gifts they've been endowed with by God.

I've come to understand there will always be bumps in the road of life. My response is to just accept these short-lived troublesome times and keep reminding myself of how blessed I am. This too shall pass.

Thursday, September 28, 2017

The Benefits Of Travel

Just returned from a nine-day visit to the East Coast, Rhode Island specifically. I love to travel but circumstances had prevented it for some time. Yes, unfamiliar situations can be challenging.

Like getting into a 2017 Ford Fusion Hybrid with no introduction and being expected to drive this modern vehicle. Guaranteed to get the adrenaline stirred. Like driving Interstate traffic at night while learning how to turn on headlights and windshield wipers. Like depending, for the first time in your life, on Google's impersonal phone voice to get you to your destination ninety miles away. Like pulling out the manual to find the latch release for the gas tank and learn the tank's capacity so you can tell the attendant how much gasoline you need to fill the tank.

But, the pleasurable experiences far outweigh the stressful ones. Meeting someone you've been friends with since high school days for lunch and not opening the menu for the first thirty minutes. Getting together with two sisters; sisters you live 2,000 miles away from and its been years since the three of you have been together. Returning to a well-loved stretch of beach just to stand and watch the waves crash along the shoreline. Strolling a narrow street between homes that were built in the 1700s.

Traveling allows me to store up sights and smells that are not a part of my regular world. The salty tang of ocean air; a hidden walkway consisting of granite markers commemorating the ministers who have served a local church since 1711; a tucked-away bay cluttered with anchored boats sitting out choppy waters; climbing the stairs to a modern third-story condo.

All fodder to feed a fertile mind when the time comes to put words to paper.

Tuesday, September 12, 2017

All In A Writer's Life

In the midst of preparing a manuscript for re-publication, I'm taking a break. Thanks to a generous gift from a precious family member, my wish to see siblings in far away places is being realized.  

This Saturday I'm flying to New England to visit a sister who lives in Rhode Island. While I'm there, another sister who now lives in South Carolina will be visiting a daughter living nearby. It has been several years since we three have been able to get together and I'm ready for a lot of talking and catching up.

I look forward to this break from the demanding physical work this summer as we cut down trees and cleared the way for my son's house to be moved onto the property. Now, the end is in sight and before the heavy season of book events is upon me, I thought I'd do this getaway.

Already I've committed to three events in October, added to my goal of getting Living With a Depressed Spouse back in print because the publisher went bankrupt. Saturday, October 14th, I'll join other members of East Texas Authors-Connect at the Hawkins Oil Festival in the park/pavilion area. After the parade, come by and say hi.

On Thursday, October 19th, I'll be participating in the Longview Art Walk. Several of us will be set up in Citizens National Bank from five to eight. This will be my first time to take part in this happening.

Although I've been invited for the past seven years to join other authors at the Gathering of Authors that takes place in Texarkana, this is the first year I've been able to attend. I am so looking forward to what promises to be a grand weekend, visiting with lots of author friends and meeting, face-to-face, others whom I've known only through Facebook.

So look for an announcement sometime toward the end of October for the re-release of Living With a Depressed Spouse. It's a blend of memoir/self-help/informational book that offers much to anyone who finds themselves either coping with or living with someone suffering from depression.

Saturday, September 2, 2017

A Tale of Two Bookstores

Out and about yesterday and I stopped by two local bookstores as different as day and night. I'd driven past Gladewater Books many times and never took the time to check it out. Oh my...what I had been missing out on.

Located on Main Street in a long, narrow two-story brick building probably built around the turn of the century, Gladewater Books is chock-a-block packed with books. With its inventory of over 40,000 books, this store is also the home of Alibris.com, an online bookseller. Floor-to-nearly-ceiling shelves form a delightful maze but Pete Adams, the owner, eagerly takes you to whatever section you're seeking. All books are reasonably priced and I look forward to making this store a favorite place to browse.

A brand-new bookstore just opened up in Kilgore called The Bookstore. It also houses the Coffee Cherry that dispenses yummy drinks. Located in a historical home on Houston Street, Stephen (a lawyer & author) and Paige (occupational therapist) Woodfin have poured their hearts into this new venture. The stately former residence exudes charm and welcome with books galore both old and new. The fact that they encourage local authors to bring their books to sell just makes they special people to me.

So...if you're the kind of person who adores the smell of bound paper, here are two hangouts to discover. I know you won't be able to stay away.

Thursday, August 24, 2017

Considering A Name Change

Since this seems to be a year of change for me, perhaps I should consider a new direction for this blog. Would love to get some feedback on that consideration.

When I first began writing these postings, I had no idea what topics I'd address. I chose 'Comparing Apples and Oranges' with hopes it would indicate the broad range of subjects I hoped to write about. Over the years, I've vacillated from writing advice to curious word origins. There have been posts about my progress as a published author and a sprinkling of anecdotes about family and friends.

In the meantime, I continue to plod along, trying to adjust to the shake, rattle, and rolls my life is experiencing at the moment. With the recent addition of a teenage granddaughter to my household, a whole new world has been revealed. You see, this is my first experience with a female sharing my life as both my children were boys.

Then there's my son's house purchase and all the work and turmoil connected with its move from another site to our property. Forced to make the sad decision of cutting back trees, and even cut down some older ones, allowing both house and the power line to be set in position. We are three-quarters of the way and the results have left the property looking like both a hurricane and a tornado passed through.

It's been a physically-demanding summer and yet, I've managed to move forward with my writing efforts. With the release of George Washington, From Boy Surveyor To Soldier (https://www.amazon.com/George-Washington-Boy-Surveyor-Soldier-ebook/dp/B0748JBX3D/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8) this month, I'm plunging into the maddening world of promoting and selling of my books.

Speaking of books, let me tell you about the newest bookstore in our neck of the woods. Local author Stephen Woodfin and his wife Paige recently opened The Bookstore and Coffee (https://www.facebook.com/thebookstoreinkilgore/) If you're anywhere in the area, do go by and welcome this fabulous addition to the community.

Now, it's off to today's chore - taking my granddaughter round to apply for a card at a couple libraries in the area. Yes! She's a reader who likes the feel of paper in her hands.

Saturday, August 12, 2017

Just Checking In

Have you ever noticed how quickly the days slip by when life gets complicated? I thought getting used to widowhood would take some adjusting. Funny thing is, I just haven't had time to do that. Life just kept getting in the way.

When my granddaughter moved in temporarily shortly after my husband died, there was the need to rearrange the spare bedroom from his man-cave to a teenager's bedroom.

Then came the brand-new experience of shopping for a replacement car...one of those things my husband always did and I just got to approve his choice. By the way, I am loving my Kia Soul. It's a more compact car than I'm used to driving. Hubby always went for the heavier, more solid Buick or Oldsmobile.

Barely having time to get used to those changes, my son's dream of owning his own house came true. He found one just the right size for he and his daughter. The catch? It had to be moved to our property and since I owned the property, I got totally involved, both financially and physically.

First came all the paperwork and legalities of a bank loan to finance the operation. Then came the actual physical move which included some tree removal to allow the house's access to the new site. Granddaughter and I also spent a few hours removing the skirting so the movers could slide their l-o-n-g steel beams beneath the house.

Have you ever watched a house move down the highway to its new home? Quite an experience complete with police escort through the middle of town.

So, the house is in place. The trench dug for the water line and water connected from the well. Now, we have six major trees to remove so the electricity company can install a high line from the street to the house.

Have I mentioned how intense life has been? Oh, and by the way, my latest writing effort, George Washington From Boy Surveyor To Soldier (https://www.amazon.com/George-Washington-Boy-Surveyor-Soldier-ebook/dp/B0748JBX3D/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8,) has its publishing release in just a couple days. Check it out.

Saturday, July 29, 2017

When The Facts Aren't There

I've been working on a series of fictionalized biographies about American figures. My first, George Washington, From Boy Surveyor To Soldier, has a release date of Aug.15th and is now available for pre-order from Amazon. (Shameless plug!)

The personality whose life I'm presently working on is Belle Boyd, a teen-age spy for the Confederacy. Somehow, sometime, I caught a mention of her antics and she grabbed my curiosity. But, it's been a struggle to write her story factually.

There is only one authorized biography, plus the book she wrote herself about her war and prison experiences. Not much to draw on.

I can find a lot of anecdotal information on the early part of her life, much of which I can verify through similar resources. But there are huge gaps in what her life was like after the War Between The States ended.

So what to do? If this were a novel, It would be challenging to take those vague allusions, flesh them out with my imaginings, and create an entertaining read. Was Sam really the father of her first child? Why did Belle renounce the child later when she had additional children from another husband?

Can I make use of that one reporter's comment about her husband being found drunk on the floor? What's the real story? And what about the hints of her exorbitant spending practice?

But this is a biography, not a novel. I strive to be historically accurate in my writing.

Guess the only answer is more research.

Saturday, June 10, 2017

I've Been Invaded

Just as I settled into my retirement years, along came a twist I never anticipated. Circumstances beyond my say-so determined my thirteen-year-old granddaughter move in. To say my sedate lifestyle was greatly altered is an understatement.

From converting my recently-deceased husband's man-cave to a teen's room with shocking raspberry walls, each day brings its own surprise and need to adjust. You have to understand, I live in an almost-ninety-year-old farmhouse; it wasn't constructed to accommodate this age of technology and all the electrical appliances we've come to depend upon. 

We spent most of a day moving in a computer from my 'little house' to her grandfather's desk which remained in the room she took over. My workstation is now temporarily arranged in what used to be the dining area. Somehow I managed to accommodate both printer and a small desk in that confining area.

The move came about in stages. Her final items settled in yesterday. The dilemma arose when came time to find a landing place for her fish tank. She had rescued these two active goldfish over a year ago when they were being sold as bait. That makes them important and special.

A heated discussion issued because she wanted them in her bedroom and there wasn't any electrical source for the three items necessary for their support and survival. After a couple attempts elsewhere in the house, the fish tank eventually got set up in front of my vintage china cabinet.

Now comes the challenging task of sorting and organizing the chaos of teenage accumulation. But, we'll take it one day at a time and somehow, it will all work out...because that is what love does.

Tuesday, May 23, 2017

Life Is All About The Curves

Have you noticed? Just when you begin to get a glimpse of a smoother road ahead, life throws you a curve.

It's been six weeks or more since I lost my husband and my life situation changed. I'd begun to plan some projects that had been on hold for those years my husband needed caring for. Now, I thought, there'll be time to seriously write, perhaps even complete one of the three stories I'd nibbled at for so long. But, then came the curve.

Some of you may know the backstory regarding the long eight years we were denied contact with a granddaughter. And how, through a series of events, my son and I once again had Carlie in our lives. The wheels of justice move slowly, but God is good and faithful to perform that good work in the life of one who loves Him. So the good book says...and I believe it.

In just a week or two, whenever all the legalities are fulfilled, my granddaughter will become a temporary inhabitant of my home. I say temporary because another major event taking place is a soon-to-be-moved-onto-our-property house for my son and granddaughter.

So instead of arranging my days to please my mood, I'm re-arranging furniture, painting walls and buying a bed as I turn my husband's former man-cave into a teenager's bedroom.

Not to say the writing has been neglected. I recently signed a contract with White Bird Publishing for the first of a series of fictionalized biographies about American heroes. The first one is George Washington; From Surveyor to Soldier. The next, about Harriet Tubman, may come out early next spring while I continue work on Belle Boyd, Confederate Spy.

Life's twists and turns are challenging...but I've never avoided a challenge.

Friday, May 5, 2017

Finding My Way

For the past two and a half years, I pretty much put my writing life on hold. As my husband's COPD worsened and we were told the doctors could do nothing more for him, my life focused on creating a comfortable life for his remaining time.

On the day of our fifty-ninth wedding anniversary, I awoke to find he had died in his sleep. I am so greatful for that period of preparation we were given. He was able to get his affairs in order and make all the necessary arrangements ahead of time, saving me much stress and anxiety.

It's been five weeks of re-evaluating, re-assessing, and catching up on things that weren't important enough to do during the interim. Things as mundane as house-cleaning and down-sizing.

I wasn't able to write during that stretch of time, but I did take up a hobby that I'd set aside when my second son was born, over forty years ago--oil painting. It helped me through those times when I just needed to check out for a bit.

Last week, I discovered a renewed interest in some characters that have been waiting in my computer for my return. This week, I pulled out a completed manusript and sent it off to my publisher, hoping the response will be a contract for publication.

As I re-connect with my circle of writing friends and begin to make plans to become more active, I'm finding myself a bit hesitant to plunge back in. In a way, I treasure the reclusive lifestyle I'd grown accustomed to.

As I see my social calendar begin to fill, it makes me realize I may have to repack those oils and canvases again. Not sure, I want to give them up.

Tuesday, April 25, 2017

Confession of a Journal-er

I have a confession to make–I am a daily journal-er.

Some years back a copy of Julia Cameron's The Artist's Way came into my life. I devoured it and took her advise to write what she referred to as 'Morning Pages.' It's an exercise designed to develop the ability to write anytime your hand grips a pen. I determined to set aside a specific time in my busy life to sit at my desk, every day, and fill three pages of a notebook in handwriting.

Did you know hands lose the memory of writing when they become accustomed to typewriting? Writing those 'Morning Pages' not only trained my brain to associate a pen-in-hand with writing, but helped my brain to slow down and capture the flood of ideas.

The real art of writing lies in commitment. Writing is an exercise in repetition. If you don't set aside time to write, life soon gets in the way. The more times you show up, the better your chances the story will show up also. Over the years, this has proven true for me.

As a writer of historical fiction, I find myself spending eons on the internet, snatching from here, there, and anywhere, those tidbits of details that lend authenticity to my stories. Later, as I sort through the barrage of information I've accumulated, writing out the descriptive passages by hand helps me mentally envision the scene I'm describing.

I wouldn't encourage anyone to read my journals—filled as they are with mostly a record of daily life. But, occasionally inspiration will attack and I freely write my thoughts and wonderings about the story-in-progress or perhaps some future project. Those words are permanently inscribed on the page, waiting for me to come back at a later time and incorporate a sentence or two that is just exactly what needed saying.  

Monday, April 3, 2017

Always On My Mind

For those who are not aware, (and if you're a Facebook friend, you already know) My husband died on March 30th, the occasion of our 59th wedding anniversary. It was an extended illness that eventually wore out his heart and he stopped breathing.

I'll bet you are curious as to why I've posted a picture of Willie Nelson. Well, Paul prepared for his end, including specifying what songs would be played at his memorial service. At the top of the list was Willie's famous song, You Are Always On My Mind. I lost count of how many times he reminded me of that.

As with most marriages, ours was a mixture of trials and blessings, but we were always certain of each others love. Rest in peace, Paul. As I told him in my last goodbye, "You done good, Charlie Brown."

Sunday, March 26, 2017

Questions That Arise

 Most people think that a book is a simple, commonplace object — words on a page, one page after another until you reach the end. What’s complicated about that? 

 But then, when you decide to publish yourself, the picture becomes murkier. You begin to realize there are many decisions that go into making a book. The questions start, and never seem to stop: 
• Hardcover, paperback, ebook? 
• How big a book? 
• Where to sell, and for how much? 

 Then it gets even more confusing: 
• What should I do first? 
• How long will it take? 
• How do I stay on track? 

If you are considering self-publishing, each one of these questions needs to be addressed and answered. There is no one correct answer. It is you, as the publisher, who must do the research, learn the options, and make the decision. 

With the help of the internet, there are gobs of resources you can go to that will help you make the right decisions. Here are a couple sites to get you started in the right direction. Disclaimer: these are the top sites that popped up when I googled ‘self-publishing tips.’ 

 http://goinswriter.com/self-publishing/ Jeff Goins even offers a free e-book on how to build an online audience;  Jane Friedman at https://janefriedman.com/self-publish-your-book/ provides a How to Self-Publish Your Book website. At  http://www.cnet.com/news/self-publishing-a-book-25-things-you-need-to-know/ , David Carnoy talks about 25 things you need to know about self-publishing.

In this day and age, just writing the end on your manuscript doesn’t mean the author’s work is finished.