Calling the Doctor


Calling the Doctor

By Nandy Ekle

Entire new computer system. Tons of mandatory overtime. Drama going on all around me, in the work place, out of the work place. Chocolate therapy adds weight in places that I never wanted to see weight again. Retail therapy is expensive and piles up the bills. My gripe and scream fits do nothing but get me weird stares.

t’s times like these that I have to remember who and what I am. I am a writer. I’ve been a writer since I was old enough to hold a pencil. Reading stories and telling stories have always been as natural for me as breathing. Words are my toys, companions, my comfort.

When dark rainy days come along, the acceptable way to vent is to write it out. You don’t even have to have a starting place. Just put the pen on the paper–and I do mean pen and paper because the physicality of doing that also has its place–and start writing. Free writing is a prewriting exercise in which you just write the words that come into your head. Spelling and punctuation is absolutely not to be considered during this time.

Several things happen during this process. For one thing, you vent all the frustrations bottled up inside while dealing with unpleasant adventures flinging themselves at your face. Also the word veins in your imagination loosen up and allow a flood of wonderful words to come through. And sometimes the biggest surprise is what lives down under the sludge of a bad day is actually a superhero of a story that’s just been hiding and waiting to be written down.

So when you’re tired and unhappy, take out a pen and paper and try some free writing. The results are amazing.

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




by Sharon Stevens


“The greatest good you can do for another is not just share your riches, but to reveal to him his own.”  Benjamin Disraeli

This evening I was just going to DASH into the grocery store to pick up three items.

But make no mistake; dashing had nothing to do with it. Living in a small town I knew I would encounter someone along the aisles that would invariably lengthen my stay. That’s just the way it is.

I know this, they know this, and my husband sure knows this if he happens to be along for the ride.

Today though, my distractions started early when I walked by a table set up outside United Supermarket. The kids manning the booth were from the Phi Delta Theta WTAMU campus fraternity asking for donations of canned goods to benefit the local Ronald McDonald house in Amarillo. Now, just this afternoon I had been researching in the Canyon News and had come across a news article about the Shaw family and their Make- A-Wish excursion to Disney World in 1997. They had stayed at the McDonald House in Fort Worth prior to their child’s Bone Marrow Transplant.

And not only that, a wonderful family from our area had been posting on facebook while staying in the Ronald McDonald House with their newborn after heart surgery. And yet another family lived there this last month after their child’s heart transplant.

I told the kids volunteering at the table I would be right back out with some canned goods after I bought the THREE things I had come to get. Amazingly I didn’t connect with a single soul while in the store. I was able to find what I needed within five minutes or less which left me more time to make my selections of those goods for the young college kids awaiting outside the front of the store.

I entered that section from the top down instead of the other way around and came across the canned fruit first. Glory be, they were having a sale! But the marked down price isn’t what caught my eye. It was the labels calling me from four feet away that pulled me in. The fruit looked luscious from all angles. I could imagine cold pears, fresh peaches, rings of pineapples, and of course, the ever popular, fruit cocktail. Who doesn’t remember this colorful delicacy at the dinner table for desert on a hot summer’s day? Over ice cream is just fine, (thank you very much) or pie, or chocolate. It doesn’t matter. Even then, visions of school lunches clouded my judgment although my thoughts from this memory turned more to the hot rolls served by the silver haired grannies with nets covering their hair. Funny what you remember.

Back to the fruit cocktail…what is there not to love? You have your grapes, and your pears and your peaches, and what about those miniscule cherries. How they could look so inviting from just the label on the can? And that’s when it hit, didn’t the families or the kids at the Ronald McDonald House deserve a little “sweetness” along with their mixed vegetables, cans of corn, and/or your garden variety of green beans? Of course they did!

That did it! I made my purchase, several cans of each, dropped them off at the table outside, and dashed my way home.

The marketing industry pays a quadrillion, billion, million dollars on marketing strategy for the average shopper. They study trends, they look at temperature control, and music selections. Brightness affects buying power as well as too bright, and not bright enough. Impulse is consulted and grocery lists combined. Grocery carts are evaluated and welcome signs are hung. All to lure the customer to make that little extra purchase that makes CEO’s and stockholders smile.

As writers we never know what will catch the reader’s eye. We have no clue what they are feeling or witnessing, but we always need to be prepared to settle somewhere in their heart and mind, from their standpoint, not ours. With whatever genre we write, we have to keep it simple, but make it colorful and inviting from every angle. We shouldn’t depend on the publishers, or editors to drive our story. Forget about the obvious label that “labels” your thoughts. Right up front, give your readers that little extra something, that visible tug, that piques a memory within, so that they will choose you, your work, your very soul, to carry home.

After all, everyone needs a can of fruit cocktail every once in a while, if only for the memories.