Monthly Archives: February 2013

Calling All Writers!

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Calling All Writers!

By Nandy Ekle

We need writers. We need writers who have unpublished stories, poems or articles. We need writers who have unpublished stories, poems or articles who love being read. We need writers who have unpublished stories, poems or articles who love being read and critiqued. We need writers who have unpublished stories, poems or articles who love being read and critiqued and who also love winning prizes.

Did that cover it all?

Our FiW Contest opened for submission January 1, 2013 and will stay open until       April 1, 2013. So get your entries sent in. You can find the rules and registration page on the website – panhadleprowriters.org – and in the Windows Newsletter. Or you can write directly to me for more information. My email is keelnancy@yahoo.com.

I’ll see you guys in the contest!

SPIRIT

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SPIRIT

By Sharon Stevens

 

February is such a short month. So many anniversaries, so many birthdays, so many celebrations, how do you choose just one to write about. Mardi Gras, George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, St. Valentine, George Ferris of the Ferris wheel, and now Pope Benedict. Amazing what you can find if you just stop, look and listen.

They all have one thing in common, one specific agenda they refer to, and not just an inward strength, but an outward resolve. They all have spirit…and strength…and passion…and dedication in some fiber of their being. Their faith may be different, their homeland, their families, but, one by one, they simply have one common path that leads them to their next destination.

Today Mary Badham visited the campus of WTAMU to talk about her role as Scout in the Harper Lee story of “To Kill A Mockingbird”. What an impact this movie has had for over fifty years! We had just seen, “Zero Dark Thirty” and “Lincoln” at the Varsity Theater here in Canyon, two powerful stories from two different centuries, and two separate wars. The message will always be the same. The resolve to tell the story will remain strong no matter how far apart the witnesses are.

And the spirit then leads me to the Steven Spielburg and Debbie Allen movie, “Amistad”. John Quincy Adams advises that “in court, the side with the best story usually wins.” This leads the abolitionists and the lawyers to try to find the story, the true story of their plea, and this eventually leads to the Mende’s freedom.

As writers we can pick and choose thousands of stories on millions of topics or maybe it’s the other way around. How lucky we are to go through life with an eternal link to every tale we want to tell. Ecstatic or crestfallen any of us can weave the ultimate experience and use myriads of words to do it with. Turning right or left the case can be stated, the arguments debated, tabled, stricken, laid to rest.

But the spirit still remains.

In “Amistad” Cinque, along with his fellow countrymen on trial for their life and their freedom. He told John Quincy Adams that…“If one can summon the spirit of his ancestors then they have never left. The wisdom they fathered and inspired will come to my aid. Then I will reach back and draw them into me. Then they must come, as I am the whole reason they have existed at all.”

Today is Valentine’s Day!  You can choose chocolates, flowers, stuffed animals, cards, or countless other tangible expressions to express your sentiments. It is your spirit alone that helps you to choose what best conveys the spirit of love to your loved ones.

But I would like to leave you with a simple thought that brings up the spirit of love to me. Paul Stookey wrote, “The Wedding Song (There is Love) in 1969 for the wedding of his friend Peter Yarrow, of Peter Paul and Mary. This beautiful song was sung at our wedding when we married in 1972 and sung at both our daughter’s wedding as well. Happy Valentine’s Day to my sweet husband for not only this day, but for all the days to follow!

“…The union of your spirit here has caused you to remain, for whenever two or more of you are gathered in His name, there is love!”

I’m Shy

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Outtakes 80

I’m Shy

By Cait Collins

Most people I know do not believe me when I confess to having been a painfully shy teenager. My older sister was beautiful and vibrant. The boys loved her. They only came to see me when they needed help with school work or when Marilyn dumped them. Tired of being every guy’s best friend, I retreated into my shell. I spent my time with my books, my writing, and singing. I also learned to act. While I am still shy, I can now perform my way through difficult situations. For example, in the early days of my broadcasting career, I accepted a challenge to interview NFL draftees at the Coaches All American game. Image a five foot four inch hundred pound woman facing Otis Armstrong. I took a deep breath and asked my questions. Later in my career, I served in a presidential press corps and two vice-presidential press corps. I still have to force myself to walk into crowded rooms alone, but I can manage it. It’s all a matter of assuming a role.

Shy people can be deceiving So much is hidden by the quiet wallflower persona. How many ways can you write a shy character? Think of all the potential behind the reserve. Here’s the assignment. Her name is Bailee. Orphaned, she was raised by her uncle who viewed her as a servant who should be happy to have room, board and a wardrobe. Her cousin had all the advantages. Shannon treated Bailee like a no body and she bought into the image. Then Bailee met Ian, one of the owners of the town’s biggest employer. They fall in love. Ian planned to ask her to marry him until he learned who and what she really was. Now write the climactic scene.

WRITING THE SYNOPSIS

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WRITING THE SYNOPSIS

At some point between starting a story or novel and publishing, you will need to write a synopsis. It can be a great tool in keeping you on track with your writing. Most literary agents, publishers and even writing contests will require a synopsis along with a few sample chapters of your writing with your submission.

A synopsis is a brief outline of the basic plotline of your story. It differs from your story or novel in that it covers the brief and precise outline of the characters and major plot points of the story, and not all the small details.

When writing a story or novel, a writer is taught to “show don’t tell.” However, when writing the synopsis the reverse is true, “tell don’t show.”

When starting a synopsis, write a theme statement to help guide your thoughts. What is the main theme that defines your story?

Next, answer the following questions telling the reader the answers. Remember “tell don’t show” in the synopsis.

1. Who is the protagonist in the story?

2. What are his or her personality traits? List strengths or weaknesses.

3. What other characters surround the protagonist?

4. What is protagonist’s major conflict?

5. How does he or she solve the conflict?

6. What hindrances stand in the way of accomplishing the goal?

7. How is each obstacle conquered, or is it?

8. What is the climax of the story?

9. How does the story end?

10. What change takes place in your protagonist?

Rory C. Keel

Characterization

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Characterization

By Natalie Bright

The spark for your story might begin in various ways. It might be a theme or message, or perhaps a unique setting or time period. Events for a plot might spring to mind based on a favorite historical incident. Whatever the case, at some point the characters will form the central part of your novel.

When you think about the books you’ve read, which ones stand out the most? Can you recall the setting or the plot elements? You may not even remember the author’s name. More than likely you remember the characters.

There’s no question that we’ll have several generations of readers who’ll remember Harry, Bella or Katniss well into their adult years.

Actions have Reasons

One of my favorite authors writes character driven plots. Jodi Thomas, New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of 37 novels has a degree in family counseling, with that insight into human dynamics, she creates unforgettable characters who feel more like friends.  “There are two reasons why people do what they do: 1) one reason they tell others 2) the real reason,” she said. Doesn’t that put a whole new spin on what motivates your characters?

Over the next few posts, we’ll take an in-depth look at characterization and how their motivation can be used to move the plot along. I’ll share tips and techniques from all of the classes and conferences I’ve attended.

Chat with you next Monday!

www.nataliebrigt.com

A Pinch of Rodeo

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A Pinch of Rodeo

By Joe R. Nichols

There should be a law against Hard Luck Awards, or designating someone as The Hard Luck Cowboy. Think about it. Not only have you failed as a contestant to achieve any level of success, you have embarrassed and humiliated yourself in a public setting. Friends, family, and thousands of spectators have witnessed you making a fool of yourself. And for that, they want to make sure you win a title or prize that will never let you forget it.

The Garden City Community Junior College got McDonald’s to sponsor a Big Mac for each of three performances for the hard luck winner. When my buddies and I first heard about it, we immediately teased each other as to which one of us might win it. Then I forgot about it.

I was getting along pretty good on my saddle bronc ride, but my rein was a lot shorter than I would have liked. I had a strong spur stroke going, with no difficulty reaching the horses neck. But, I kept thinking, man, I need more rein. I was going to place in the money if everything stayed the same, but somehow I convinced myself I had to try and slide some rein through my hand. Now, some guys are good at doing this. They can slip just the right amount, and then have a hold on it in the exact right place. Me? I didn’t know if I was good at it or not, cause I’d never tried it before. Well, about the time the tassel was going past my little mitt, I realized I had a made a slight mental error.

I looked like a loose helicopter blade when I left that horse. With my body parallel to the ground, I made several revolutions while traveling across the arena. Lucky for me, the ground broke my fall. If you’ve ever had all the wind knocked out of you, then you know what I felt. If you haven’t, then you have no idea. I crawled to the arena fence, so I wouldn’t delay the rodeo or be in the way, but that’s as far as I could go. Then, I heard laughing. I looked up to see my buddy Fitz, ambling down the fence line, pointing at me, and stopping periodically to grab the fence to keep from collapsing from his laughter. “Hey Joe! I think you won the hamburger,” he hollered.

I had no air to speak words, but judging by his increased hysterics, I think he reads lips.

The Puzzle

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POST CARDS FROM THE MUSE

The Puzzle

 By Nandy Ekle

I took a walk through my hall of unfinished stories. My hand brushed along the half filled pages, fingertips touching each and every one. As I passed by a lonely little three-page rag, I noticed a sparkle from its eye. So I picked it up and read its words.

Three pages, around 1000 words. My character spoke so loudly I was mesmerized. I felt her loneliness and her growing neurosis. I could see her problem clearly. Goosebumps the size of watermelons grew on my arms and my scalp tingled. Then, at the bottom of page three, the whole thing came to an abrupt stop in the middle of a paragraph.

It’s been about a year since I wrote those three pages and several other stories have channeled themselves through me. I looked at the blank space at the bottom of the page and felt lost. Where was this going? What was my aim? The girl had shown me her problem, but the reason for the problem was gone, along with the ultimate outcome.

But I can’t scrap it. And so I will put on Doctor Freud’s hat and figure out the rest of the story. Number one – she definitely has a problem brewing. And I think I can see exactly what it is. Number two – why is this a problem? Well, because there’s something she wants. I need to remember what her greatest wish is. Number three – what will this desire cost her? Hhhmmm. A little trickier. I need to know her a little better to remember the things most important to her. Reading what I have a few more times will help me with that. Number four – can she achieve what she wants, and if she does, is it really what’s best for her?

As you can see, my work is cut out for me. My muse stands in the corner of my writing space staring at me like a stern math teacher waiting for me to work the equation and get the right answer. However I think I have enough to go on with my three pages, and maybe a few hints from my silent muse.

Congratulatios. You have just received a post card from the muse.

TREASURES

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READER’S DIGEST AUGUST 1990 – LARGE TYPE EDITION

A PRISONER’S TALE
Condensed from “Chained Eagle”
Everett Alvarez, Jr.
and Anthony S. Pitch
               
I had only a moment to think of something to say. It was 1971, and I had been a prisoner of war in North Vietnam for seven long years since my Navy A-4-Skyhawk fighter-bomber was shot down-nightmare years of torture, putrid food and the aching loneliness of frequent solitary confinement in the infamous prison we had named the Hanoi Hilton.
To combat the monotony, my fellow prisoners had formed a Toastmasters Club. On this particular day I had been given just 30 seconds to prepare a five-minute speech on any personal experience in my life.
Instinctively, my mind whirled back to my family. The adversities we’d faced had shaped my character and given me backbone. My maternal grandmother had married at 13 in Mexico and come to the United States as a railroad man’s wife, shunting from one location to another and bedding down in boxcars or tumbledown shacks. My parents had had to drop out of school when they were still children and earn their living. From them I learned about grit, determination and resolve, qualities that enabled me to survive. More important, I learned about the pure, unquestioning love between parent and child that would surround me forever like a suit of armor.
How could I express all of that? How could I describe for these men the golden treasures given me decades ago by parents so poor? Suddenly I remembered one tiny moment of my childhood, and I knew what I was going to say.
 
GOLDEN TREASURES
By Sharon Stevens
 

Someone brought in a, shall we say, “vintage” Reader’s Digest from August 1990. Of course it’s not that old, but that’s not the point. The memory itself goes back so much farther than that. At first what caught my eye happened to be “Aunt Virginia’s Green Swimsuit.” I remember this, and remember it well…the Readers’ Digest, the swimsuit AND the story in the Reader’s Digest about the swimsuit. (You wouldn’t think of the this digest to have a swimsuit edition.) My aunt wore just such a piece of clothing when we traveled to East Texas for family celebrations at the lake. And my grandmother gave us a gift subscription to the Digest every year for Christmas. So maybe this is why this specific article resonated with me.

Funny how something will stick with you, and even funnier is what will trigger the senses and bring the memory back to life.

In this particular issue I didn’t remember the Prisoner of War story though. There was mention of a candy bar, and you would have thought that I would have picked up on that first thing for two reasons. One is that I love candy bars, and two is that chocolate brings up special thoughts that connect to my very soul, and not in the Valentine way you would think. In August 1990 it must have been my frame of mind at the time, could be that I didn’t want or didn’t need a reminder of a candy bar, or maybe war, or maybe even Prisoner of Wars. Who knows what directed my sight to the swimsuit. Hey, it could have been that war wasn’t on the preceding or the succeeding page of something that interested me. If it had of been next to “Word Power” I might have noticed as it included some mighty powerful definitions that just might come in handy someday. This edition had “Look-A-likes” such as effect and affect, and evanescent and effervescent to name just a couple.

Nope that wasn’t it. And I don’t know what it was.

So many times we become discouraged because our stories don’t seem to catch the right amount of interest. We wonder why someone would choose this over that, laughter over horror, or blood over heart. None of us can choose where our thoughts may lead in the reader’s mind, so we shouldn’t go chasing after it. It’s all right for our work to be passed over.

I am the world’s worst to take it personally. On the outside I know better, but on the inside my heart is crushed. Or maybe it’s the other way around. I still haven’t come up with the secret formula for someone to be swept away with the very words that will inspire and encourage them for eons of eternity. I just don’t have it in me, never have and never will.

But then again, just maybe someone will happen across a thought, a phrase, a moment and decide to read the rest of the story. Maybe they will carry this within for when the dark winds blow through their soul. Or could be they need a reminder of happy days, of fishes nibbling at their toes (now where did that come from?) Oh, right, the swimsuit.

I’ll just have to keep plugging away hoping simple words will transform the words on the page, on the computer, and just jump out and grab whoever happens to walk by. I hope they will carry my thoughts home with them to save for, not just a rainy day, but a good day too.

Maybe then my story will be considered the “Golden Treasure,” just as I wrote them to be.

Just a reminder, Mary Bagham who played “Scout” in TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD will be here at WTAMU with the invitation of the Social Justice department on Wednesday February 13, 2013. Also “Anatomy of Grey” will be performed at the Sybil Harrington Fine Arts Theatre at WTAMU. Amarillo Little Theatre will be performing “25th Annual Putman County Spelling Bee” this weekend and Gary Garner will be honored at the Faculty Grand Recital on Friday. Whew, so many stories!


Gotta Love Electronics

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Outtakes 78

Gotta Love Electronics

By Cait Collins

Have you ever had one of those days when it seemed as if every piece of electronic equipment you touched hated you? The computer was slow. The fax machine chewed your master. Only half of your documents printed. The copy machine jammed. And last but definitely not least, one of your primary computer programs crashed. Okay only half of that happened today, but this war has been ongoing for the last week and a half.

I love the convenience of computers. The ability to type a document, save it, and edit later is wonderful. I remember the good old-days when I’d spend hours typing a research paper on my trusty manual typewriter. I tried to check every page for errors before ripping the sheet out of the typewriter. I always missed something, and I never mastered the art of inserting the page and realigning the paper to make corrections. I lost count of the number of times I had to retype every page from the point of the error forward because the correction forced the text onto the next page. I recall author/screenwriter Larry McMurtry bragging about writing all of his manuscripts and screenplays on a typewriter. I cannot imagine doing that. A 20-page research paper was intimidating enough.

While computers provide convenience, they do have a drawback. Programs crash. I had such an experience today at work. I had my proof file built for a letter I was preparing for a client. When I tried to save it, the program flashed an error message and my file disappeared into cyberspace. None of my quick fixes restored the program. And so I sat waiting for IT to come fix the problem. My hands were tied. I could not prepare correspondence, I could not research. I did not have very nice things to say about my computer at this point. Most of my muttering involved rather sexist remarks about the origin and nature of computers. Sorry, gentlemen, but you are to blame for the problem.

While electronics frustrate me at times, I admit I could not function without them. I still prefer grabbing a book to research a subject, but when in a bind, the internet is a life saver. I no longer rush to the library to look up missing information. Locating a book title, author, or event is a simple matter of typing key words. Working on multiple projects is easy. I have folders and files set up for each project on my systems. Paper files are no longer required. My external hard drive automatically backs up my files. Flash drives allow me to copy pages of a work in progress from my main system to my Netbook. The Netbook is light weight and easy to carry; therefore, I can spend my lunch hour working on my novel or short story. When I need multiple copies, I print them. No messy carbon paper or time wasted standing at the copy machine is necessary.

I will never be as computer savvy as my younger associates. They had the advantage of growing up with word processing, spreadsheets, and electronic media. I continue to learn more about the capabilities of my laptop and Netbook as I truly appreciate their advantages. That doesn’t mean I will refrain from referring to my misbehaving electronics in sexist terms.

BATTLING THE BEAST

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BATTLING THE BEAST

I gaze into the eyes of the beast searching to find its soul. I am caught in the childhood game of “the first one who blinks looses,” yet he shows no emotion, no rising of brow, no blinking or shedding of tears, just a long menacing stare.

The creature’s leering eye grows brighter with every passing moment, seemingly intent on seeing the space of my existence. My vision is full of his sight, yet I see nothing.

I study his unrelenting look, my mind searching the far corners and deep recesses, constantly swirling, struggling to find some strategy, or weapon or even one simple word that might defeat my enemy and win this mind-numbing battle.

The desire to close my eyes tugs at the lids. The moisture surrounding my orbs in their sockets has become dry and I struggle against the urge to rub them. The creature shows no signs of weakening and continues to counter every glance.

Without my consent, sudden darkness is all I see. I blink. I am immediately torn between two emotions. First, relief. Moist droplets flood my eyes like waters of the sea crashing onto the shore. The fetters that once restrained the rubbing of my eyelids have now been unfastened.

And second, In the darkness of my blink, dread fills my mind as I wait for the wrath of my opponent to be unleashed. Or perhaps he has already struck with such a swift penalty that I didn’t feel the pain. In the deafening silence I dare to open my eyes. To my surprise I find that it was not I who blinked first, but the computer screen upon which I placed these words.

Rory C. Keel