Birthday Feast

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POST CARDS FROM THE MUSE

 

Birthday Feast

By Nandy Ekle

 

At my age a birthday is really more dreaded than anticipated. Women my age tend to symbolically stop having birthdays and do what they can to keep any shred of youth they are able to keep. But most women my age don’t have the experience I had theis week.

Like a lot of women my age, dieting is a daily battle. I have recently been successful on a great plan, but in the past few months, my will power has melted. One thing that has not ben much help in this area is the wonderful, wacky and insanely fantastic group I work with. There are twelve of us, if you count the manager (and let me emphasize, she most definitely does count). So that’s an average of one birthday every month. The custom is that the person whose birthday was last orchestrates the celebration for the next person’s birthday. And the rule of thumb has always been a themed food spread, birthday honoree’s choice.

So a very unique and special feast took place this week. They al know about my struggles with The Diet, and they all know my love for stories. So the feast we had this week was a feast of words. Each and every person on our “team” chose a passage from their favorite book, and then took turns coming to my desk to read these jewels.

That evening I came home and started reading the new book my husband gave me.

When your appetite for words is low, plan a pot luck word spread.

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

Why I Tie a Rope around my Ankle When I Write

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Why I Tie a Rope around my Ankle When I Write – A Guest Post by Shawn Smucker

There’s a sort of holiness in the room when I sit down across from someone, some ordinary person, and place the recorder on the table. I try not to show that my hands are shaking. 5750218032

Some stare at the recorder for a moment before beginning – they know that once they speak, there is no going back. Their words will be captured, like lightning bugs in a glass jar, glowing on the cheeks of their captors.

Others pretend the small, black, plastic contraption doesn’t exist, and these are the ones who tell a good story. They ignore this reaping of their words. Sometimes when they venture back into time they close their eyes. They are alone in the world and no one is listening.

But we are listening, my recorder and I.

The stories dance around, looking for somewhere to rest, somewhere that will keep them safe, and then they fall into the recorder. Stories have a deeply ingrained desire to survive, but it’s a dangerous world out there. Most of them wait too long to be told (they’re rather shy, after all) and they lose their voice to death or disease or memory loss.

Once stories are buried, there is no way to bring them back.

* * * * *

The leaf that spreads in the light is the only holiness there is…it’s out in the open field, with the green rows looking at the sky. I don’t know what it is, this holiness: but it’s there, and it looks at the sky. – Kage Baker

* * * * *

An unproven legend says that in Old Testament times the high priest ventured into the Temple’s Holy of Holies once a year wearing bells around his waist so that if he died in the presence of God those outside would hear him fall and know. They wrapped a scarlet rope around his foot in order to pull him out, if necessary.

I wonder if that rope was ever used. It seems unlikely that God would award such bravery with immediate death.

Or perhaps, if God is all He is cracked up to be, dying would have been a great reward. Perhaps there were priests who wanted to meet Him, who wanted to see His face even if it meant the end of them. Perhaps they stood there so still, waiting, that their buddies holding the other end of the rope gave it a tug, just to see if they were still in the land of the living.

* * * * *

In any instant the sacred may wipe you with its finger. In any instant the bush may flare, your feet may rise, or you may see a bunch of souls in trees. – Annie Dillard, For the Time Being

* * * * *

This is what it feels like to absorb and preserve stories:

A gentle walking into the holiest of spaces.

Waiting for the spirit of the story to make itself known.

Finding beautiful shards not yet ground down into sand.

Stumbling into a forest glade at dusk when the fireflies first begin to rise and blink above the heavy grass.

Maybe the next time I sit down across the table from a storyteller and gently press the play button on the small, black recorder, I should make sure a scarlet rope is tied securely around my ankle.

One never knows when the holiness of a story will overcome you.

Shawn is the author of “Building a Life Out of Words“ and “How to Use a Runaway Truck Ramp.” He lives deep in the woods of southern Lancaster County, PA, with his wife and four children. Find out what else he’s up to over at Facebook and Twitter.

Permission for use by Shawn Smucker

Original post Please visit www.andilit.com

Hail, Rain, Wind, and Twisters

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Outtakes 97

Release 6-5-2013

 

Hail, Rain, Wind, and Twisters

By Cait Collins

Tuesday evening, May 28, 2013, I finished my blog and posted it. Shortly afterwards, I received a phone call from my company’s emergency employee notification system stating winds had downed power lines and knocked out windows at our Osage campus. Crews had restored power, but debris remained. We were to use extreme caution when driving to work on Wednesday.

Conditions worsened as the evening progressed. Tornado warnings were posted, and I ran across the apartment complex parking lot to shelter in with my sister and her upstairs neighbor. We settled the neighbor and her two children in the laundry room, and then Janet and I took refuge in her smaller bathroom. We spent the next hour or so huddled beneath pillows and blankets in the bathtub watching the radar on her SmartPhone. Sirens blared; storm spotters reported a tornado at 45th and Soncy moving east. It did not remain on the ground for an extended period. The storm system that entered the city’s west side turned north and east and moved into the downtown area. It weakened as it moved out of Amarillo. Shortly after midnight, the all clear was sounded, and we crawled out of our shelter.

Amarillo had survived, but not unscathed. Hail and high winds damaged property across the city. The Insurance Council of Texas estimated insured losses at about $400 million. No lives were lost and injuries were minor.

All of our television and radio news departments did a good job keeping citizens informed regarding conditions. No doubt the devastation in Moore, Oklahoma, created a sense of urgency and appropriate response to the warnings. I appreciate every broadcaster and spotter who manned a post. They did their jobs well. That said, I must admit it was the “Voice” at KGNC Radio that grounded me. Once we sheltered in, we could no longer hear the television reports. Janet’s radio kept cutting out, so I suggested KGNC. I think I recognized the voice behind the microphone, but I’m not 100% sure. He reported the weather conditions, the National Weather Service recommendations, and damage reports with just the right mix of urgency, concern, and humanity. His calm demeanor was what I needed during those tense moments. While I was frightened, I was not panicked. Instead I was reassured. I want to commend KGNC manager, Brice Edwards, and his staff for a job well done.

 

KGNC has been a friend to Panhandle Professional Writers for a number of years. They have welcomed us on their morning talk shows to promote conferences, writing contests, fund raisers, and special events. It was good to know they and their fellow broadcasters had our backs during the crisis.

WRITE TO MAKE DIAMONDS

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Write to make Diamonds

by Rory C. Keel

I recently conducted some interesting research on diamonds, how they are formed in the earth, the process used in mining these allotropes of carbon and what happens to them on the journey from mining to the market.

Dealing with diamonds the industry uses what is called the 4C’s. The first “C” is the Carat. This is a term used to reference the size of the diamond. The second is Color. This can range from colorless, the most valuable, to a yellow hue. On occasion a diamond of another color is found such as the blue Hope Diamond. These are rare. Thirdly is the Clarity. This describes the degree to which a diamond is free of blemishes and inclusions. Finally is the Cut. The cut is the jeweler’s touch. The angle at which a diamond is cut makes it attractive to the eye and gives it its shimmering brightness.

I have found that these “4C’s” are very useful in writing.

First, the carat. What size does my writing project need to be? Many contest pieces, devotionals, short stories and articles are subject to a specific word count. Publishers and agents may also require a word count in the length of some novels.

Secondly is the color. What is the genre’ of my writing? The answer to this question will not only help you in what to write, but in determining your target audience when it comes time to publish.

Third is clarity. What point of view are you writing from? Is it first person or third person, past or present? Double check your grammar usage and make it proper for the piece; and don’t forget the punctuation and spelling. These things can determine whether your story shines or is as clear as mud.

Finally the cut. The goal of this stage is to produce a faceted jewel where each angle between the facets optimizes the luster of the diamond. The jeweler cuts out weaknesses and flaws to focus attention on the beauty of the diamond. As writers, we type as fast as we can, elaborating on every little detail and sometimes find ourselves in a dark alley away from our storyline; or we add filler just to make the word count. Let’s face it; there are some things that will need to be taken out to make it shine.

At the jeweler’s a rough diamond is placed in a small vice, then carefully and strategically cut, and when it’s polished, it’s beautiful!

The diamond is your story.

Writing Your Family History

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Writing Your Family History

By Natalie Bright 

You might be drawn to write, but maybe the thought of  crafting a novel makes you cringe. Have you considered starting with something fun, like your family history? If that seems overwhelming, start small.  Write about one event that happened.

Is there a right way or a wrong way to write your family’s history?

A million different ways:

A letter found by one of my friends in her favorite Aunt’s Bible, led to a story that was contracted by an anthology. The project fell through before it made it to the printing presses. Many years later, she submitted a reworked version of the same story to a regional magazine, and it was featured as a web exclusive. It’s since appeared in newspapers and on website year after year.

As a writer and history fanatic, I scan used book stores for first-hand accounts of regional events and family bios. There’s nothing like reading about the details of life from long ago. It’s these kinds of tidbits that make your stories come alive. I’ve discovered history in many different formats. Here are a few of my favorites.

Examples of family memoirs turned into published works:

So Great a Heritage  by Kathie Jackson

Best example of chronological and organized narration. Taking letters written by her father, Sgt. Cecil Turner, she follows his journey from WWII training camps, North Africa, Italy, France, Germany. In between his letters she provides historical detail of the 1940’s – the places, people, the battles, descriptions of the land, and sprinkled with letters he received from his parents.

Tate Publishing, Mustang OK

Growing Up In the Bradford Oil Fields by Jim Messer

Not really a chronological order, but invaluable for writers. This man’s father worked as an oil well shooter and he wrote this book for his kids. He wanted them to know what it was like growing up in the oilfields of Pennsylvania, one of the oldest producing oil fields in the world. His father delivered the nitroglycerin to the location for well ‘fracing’, or fracturing of the pay zones, a completion procedure first begun at the turn of the century. He goes into great detail about delivery systems and how they stored the nitro, how a cable tool rig works. Xlibris Corporation – self-publishing internet site

I saw Jesus this Morning by Mike Bellah, Ph.D.

Took a personal, very private experience and turned it into an extremely inspirational Bible study type book.

The Wednesday Monster by Kellie R. Sanders

Her mother, as a little girl, survived a tornado in 1947 Woodward, OK. This is a very detailed, academic look at the events of that day. Newspaper articles provide information, and includes first hand accounts of survivors which are printed in italics word-per-word. Through her research for this book, a shorter article was written for the Panhandle-Plains Historical Review. (Think about using your research to generate articles for magazines, regional newsletters, etc.)

Christmas in Old Tascosa by Judy Wise

An 81-year-old mother looks out of the window at a snow storm over Pudget Sound in the Pacific Northwest and says, “I remember a snowstorm … in Texas … in Tascosa.  I was a little girl.” Her daughter said, “Tell us.”

After she told the story, the daughters planned a trip to the Texas Panhandle. The mother flew in from Florida, one daughter from Arizona, and one from Washington, and they drove through the Texas Panhandle visiting the places of their mother’s childhood and having her retell the story over and over, making note of every detail. They knew someone who knew Red Steagal, he loved the story and referred the manuscript to Texas Tech Press. You just never know where your story might lead you. Don’t hesitate. Just follow!

Oil People by Natalie Bright

Based in part on the work my husband does as a petroleum geologist, this is a self-published book meaning I paid the publisher. I did submit this to numerous university presses and received extremely encouraging rejection letters, which is why I decided to save my money and keep control of the content.

At A Snails Pace

Keep in mind, the time frame for publishing is slow, slow. If a university or small area press accepts your story, it could be up to 18 months or longer before you have a book in hand. A self-published project can take a few months, but typos and grammar are your responsibility.

The key, I think, is organization of info and a theme.

Follow Your Heart

Theme = place, the person, the dates, the event. Why are you writing this book? What is the main focus or idea that you wish to convey to a reader?

I’ve met so many people with amazing family stories. They’re more than willing to talk about it, but so afraid of messing up. Writing words on a blank page is a frightening process to some people. If there’s a story that’s pressing upon your mind and heart,  don’t stress. Just do it. Be open minded. Maybe you have a book in mind, so start with small articles on specific events. Be flexible so that you can move segments and paragraphs around, rearranging the information until it flows into something you’ll be proud of. The thing about writing is you keep learning as you’re doing.

It’s amazing sometimes, the journey your written words will take you

Okay people, get busy because I can hardly wait to read your family stories!

www.nataliebright.com

A Pinch of Rodeo – CP #11-Part 3

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A Pinch of Rodeo

By Joe R. Nichols

 

CP #11-Part 3

Big Randy drew 11 at the Oklahoma City Night Rodeo.

Because of his wild bucking style, 11 would sometimes lose control of himself and stumble or fall. It didn’t happen often, but if man was sticking a ride on him, he would do anything he could to shed himself of the cowboy. As a result, he might forget where the ground was.

11 could have bucked his own tail off sooner than he could have gotten rid of Big Randy. In a final effort to shake his rider loose, he made a high twist in the air, but landed broad side flat. Randy landed on his feet, straddling the bull. He instantly jerked his hand from the rope and scampered to the fence. It was only a short distance to the fence, maybe 12 or 15 feet, and 11 was facing the opposite direction laying on his side. Randy made it, but just barely. 11 got up, swapped ends, and gave chase, nearly getting there in time to help Randy over the top rail.

In my personal knowledge, this was the only time a man escaped the wrath of this bull. In part one, I mentioned that he hooked everyone that ever I saw get on him, and this is true. You might not want to believe the rest of this story, but you’ll never convince Big Randy that this bull wasn’t haunted.

The next week we went to the Justin Spencer Memorial Rodeo in Cedarvail, Kansas. 11 was there too. As a friendly gesture, Randy offered some information about the bull to the cowboy that drew him. He explained how he bucked, but most of all, he emphasized how hard it was to get away from him. “This son-of-a-gun can come from a long ways off and still gather you up,” Randy said.

Apparently, the warning didn’t sound any different to this guy than any other tale about a bull that would hook. He soon found out, 11 was special.

11 took the rider out to the middle of the arena, and then turned inside out. He bucked his man off. The bullfighter made a perfect pass, leading the bull away, and the rider hurried to his feet. He ran for his life, but he made the mistake of assuming he had put himself out of the bulls’ range. He was only 20 feet from the chutes when he looked back. 11 was coming. Covering three times the distance, the bull freight-trained the cowboy and smashed him against the chutes.

11 made his way down the line, but all the cowboys were up high on the fence. There must have been 20 guys side by side trying to avoid the bull. Right in the middle of all these cowboys, 11 squared himself to the fence, plucked a guy off the top board with his horns, and flipped him out in the arena. He then put his head down, and ran over him.

Who was this unlucky soul? That’s right, the only man that ever got a way from him, just one week earlier. Out of all the people in and around that arena, he found Randy. Coincidence? I don’t think so.

Neither does Big Randy.

Writing Z’s

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Writing Z’s

By Nandy Ekle

Sitting in my usual spot on the couch, I stared at the blank screen with my fingers hovering over the keyboard. C’mon, words. Let’s get this going. Still, no letters appeared. I looked at the show playing on the TV. I couldn’t even concentrate on that. My cross-stitch project sat next to me untouched. Even my dinner had not inspired me.

Suddenly I blinked. I had fallen asleep again and been that way for an undetermined amount of time. I yawned, stretched my fingers and cracked my one crackable knuckle. Okay. I’m awake. Let’s write something.

Once again I stared at the blank computer screen demanding words to jump from my head to the keyboard. A sweet stillness covered me and I rode it like a wave of comfort, not thinking, not moving, only darkness and ease.

I heard a strange noise as I snored and immediately my eyes opened again. Still no words on the screen. Anger flashed through me because where I had been was so comforting and I wanted to go back.

But I had writing to do. I stared at the blank computer, the opened soda next to me, the idle craft kit on the table. In my mind I walked the hall of my mental dictionary and realized all the doors were shut tight, even barred.

There would be no words tonight. Not even a tiny “the.”

Wondering why I was torturing myself when I really should be in bed, I snapped the lid of my computer closed and stood up. I didn’t want to move too quickly because then I wouldn’t sleep when I found my pillow. I would only fume that I was in bed wide-awake when I had been sleeping so soundly on the couch.

The sandman had his way with me and the next thing I knew, a story was playing out on my internal television. Details are gone, but the situation, a few faces and an incredible atmosphere remain.

Sometimes you just need to go to bed and sleep.

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

DORIC

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DORIC

by Sharon Stevens

 

I was so down-deep, dark, under the bridge, deep in the tunnel, buried six feet under, destroyed.

Anyone who is a writer knows this feeling, that overwhelming sadness that comes with the knowledge every dream is dead, and will never see the light of day. That moment when you realize deep in your soul that any passion should have been buried way before thoughts were turned into words. Powerful images that come from within the heart of anyone that celebrates putting letters together to form a visual emblem.

Who cared? What did it matter? The pain is real. We know we must let it go, but we hang on against all hope that an idea will magically appear.

I gave up and gave it away. THEY had won and I had nowhere I could go. Actually, at peace knowing there was no way to turn, knowing that no one would be there waiting on the other side.

So I put everything aside and picked up the book I had been reading, turning to the next chapter to begin again. The first words were, “Myron Dart stood inside the Doric fastness of the Lincoln Memorial, staring moodily at the expanse of marble beneath his feet.”

OMG! In that one sentence my world was renewed! Lincoln Memorial, what a sweet memory that surfaced and broke. My faith was restored. Who could imagine that words written in a book could have that much power. This was such a message to me, for me, about me.

The book I was reading was Preston & Child’s “Gideon’s Corpse” and Lincoln’s statue had special meaning to me. I had no idea what a doric was, but I knew that within minutes I could find the definition, and I did. I had alternated between this book and my new “Chicken Soup for the Soul, Inspirations for Writers” reading each story over again. Our fellow Wordsmithsix blogger, Rory Craig Keel’s story appeared in this issue. His and all the other authors brought me such peace.

As writers we never know when our reader will be facing great joy or absolute and draining sorrow. We can’t choose anyone’s memory for them or what they will celebrate or what they will shed. So never, ever get down in the depths of darkness where you can’t see the light that surrounds you. You never know when a sentence, or word just might be the ticket to drag the reader’s heart out in the open where they can face another tragedy, another day, another memory.

The doric’s will still stand.

My Way

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Outtakes 96

My Way

By Cait Collins

I appreciate creativity. It propels the author to search for new ways to tell old stories. However, this does not mean anything goes when preparing a manuscript. There are rules and standard that should be followed if an author wants to be published. Some rules are genre specific and others are universal.

Whatever you write, grammar and punctuation rules must be followed. Youth writing competitions are designed to teach young people how to write. I have had teachers approach me and ask if we were serious about some of the rules. Surely we would not take off points for grammar and punctuation errors. After all, children are more informal in the way the write. Kids email and text, so the rules don’t apply. Would we really disqualify a work just because the young author refused to adhere to Times New Roman 12 point font and one inch margins all around? And what about the limitations on the number of pages for short stories and the number of lines for poems? How could the student’s choice to express creativity be grounds for disqualification? Then came the real kicker. “I told my students they didn’t have to follow these arbitrary rules.” Unfortunately for her students, many were disqualified.

The rules were set in accordance with industry standards and submission guidelines. In applying industry standards to the contest rules, we were attempting to teach the importance of following instructions. Failure to comply with the guidelines had consequences, Can you imagine reading a call for submissions and deciding the length, the subject matter, and the format were of no consequence? After all you are just expressing your creativity. Consider how many submissions editors receive. Do you honestly believe a busy editor will wade through submissions that flaunted the guidelines? Such works will no doubt wind up in the rejection pile.

Sadly, authors believe genre standards are non-existent. A young writer self-published and illustrated her children’s picture book. Her sales were not good and she didn’t know why. She asked me to read the story and give her some feedback. The pet was cute, grandma sweet and loving, but a book written for four and five year-olds centered on drug abuse and animal abuse. Additionally, there was no flow or continuity to the work and the illustrations were not to industry standards. It was also overpriced. When I attempted to explain both the good points and the problems, she became defensive. This was her story. Someone had to warn children about the evils in life. Her agent was too stupid and lazy to sell her book so she had no choice except to self-publish. My next quest was, “Did your agent point out problems with the manuscript?” Her response, “I told him I would not change anything. He didn’t even try to sell my book.” The real problem was her refusal to provide a work the agent could sell.

My way does not mean an author is permitted to be difficult in dealing with agents, editors, and critique groups. I’ve been in groups where a writer was told repeatedly by several members there were issues with the story. Week after week, chapter one was presented with minor changes and the major problems ignored. He could not understand why no one liked his protagonist. Just because the guy wasn’t macho, and aggressive didn’t mean he needed to change the characterization. Why didn’t women appreciate a man who would cater to her needs and do whatever necessary to make his love happy? Excuse me? A women’s fiction novel needs a strong male lead. His hero was a door mat and a pushover. He suggested we just didn’t understand his vision.  Or what about the lady who stated in her cover letter she would not sell to any publisher who required her characters to smoke, drink, or be involved in illicit sex. Needless to say, she had no offers.

Does this mean a writer has no personal options when writing his story? Of course there are opportunities to explore your creativity. The trick is to learn the rules, practice them, and then learn when and how to break them. Creativity is best expressed in good plotting, character development, and scene setting. Show your way in adherence to submission guidelines and respect for agents, editors, and fellow writers. Your efforts will be appreciated.

The Social Network

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The Social Network

 By Rory C. Keel

For a writer, social networking sites are beneficial in several ways. First, they can help you make connections with other writers who are trying to achieve the same goals. The ability to discuss with others the techniques that work, and those that might not, can help you as a writer avoid mistakes and pitfalls by increasing your knowledge of the writing craft.

Second, social networking sites can provide the ability to contact and reach out to successful writers and their publishers, creating opportunities that you might not otherwise have. Due to the high volume of manuscripts received by publishers, many good writers may be overlooked. By networking with publishers, agents, and the authors who write for them, your connections could turn into an asset when you are ready to seek publication.

Third is marketing. As much as we would like for our writing to sell itself, or for our publishers to do all the marketing, we will need to do some of it, if not most, for ourselves. A majority of publishers will want to know your platform – in other words, do you have an audience? With social networking sites, you can develop a potential vast audience for your writing.

PPW Window, Volume 2009, Issue 6, Presidents report By Rory Craig Keel

roryckeel.com