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.

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.

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.

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.
 

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.

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.

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.