Tag Archives: Natalie Bright

GEMS

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GEMS

by Sharon Stevens

Mary Elizabeth Gordon-Cummings died forty years ago this month. She had fallen down the basement steps of her crumbling home and laid there several days in a heap on the floor, no one hearing her cries before a neighbor came to check on her. Old age and pneumonia then tore her down and she succumbed, her features clawed and withered with severe arthritis. She spent her last days in a clinical environment in a local hospital where everyone saw her as ancient.

We called her Aunt Molly and knew her as neighbor in my years growing up. How many times I wished I had visited with her. What could she have taught me with her stories and her memories. What could she have shared with her artist’s eye and her love of all that surrounded her. We will never know. She carried everything to her grave. She was old, her joints knarled and ugly, pain marring every feature. Nothing is left. She is dead and buried. All is gone.

But wait. I have her picture from a photograph that once hung on the walls of the Randall County Courthouse. There is no notation of when it was taken or where or why. It doesn’t tell the story of when she was born, or her passions, or her pain, but her beauty and the sweet face of youth is captured within.

Phebe Warner had urged her to come to the plains of Texas to apply as an art teacher at Goodnight College. Molly and Charles Goodnight welcomed her with open arms and gave her a glimpse of the empire they had established as the J.A. Ranch. Coming from Dallas and encountering dirt streets of Amarillo and the limited comforts of home must have been an eye opener. But the first meal at their home she remembered how the lemonade looked in the glass pitcher, the tour of the gardens, the bee hives, and of course the ranch itself.

She met Charles Lennox Gordon-Cummings at the Goodnights, and they married and moved to land west of Canyon on the Tierra Blanco Creek. Later they built a magnificent home and raised three daughters out here on the Texas plains. Mr. Gordon-Cummings died in the 1940’s and Molly lived out her life alone except for her brother that lived with her until his death in a train accident. You can read the story of her life in “The Randall County Story” by Grace Warwick.  We became her neighbors in 1952 when my dad bought land and moved us out to the country in the hottest year in recorded history.

I was reminded of Aunt Molly at this year’s annual “Night At The Museum” at the Panhandle Plains Historical Museum. I volunteered at the kit house in my role player costume. Armed with my picture of Molly in her youth, a glass picture filled with colored stones, and with my storytelling patchwork hat perched on my head I shared the story of Mary Elizabeth Gordon-Cummings and hoped I made her come alive.

I chose the bright gems in the pitcher because my mother had shared with me that Aunt Molly used to take broken pieces of glass and paint the images that flooded through from the sunlight. What rainbows she must have seen. What colors and prisms must have shown through. What beauty she must have witnessed among the shades of dirt and shadow.

And this brings me to this week’s blog on writing. On the season finale of “Castle” his daughter is agonizing over her valedictory speech after researching speeches by the famous such as Steve Jobs, and presidents, and historical figures and famous celebrities. Castle advises her (and I will never forget his words), “write whats true to you”.

In my writings I could pen about how Mary Elizabeth died a horrible death, abandoned, without neighbors to care whether she lived or died. I could write a horror story about how arthritis had turned her body into a mass of ugliness with her hands so gnarled she couldn’t even pick up a spoon to feed herself, much less a brush to paint. But I CHOOSE to write of her beauty, and imagine the sunrises and the sunsets she must have seen from the top floor of her great home. My heart CHOOSES to remember the smell of the lilacs that lined the walk, and the massive, shimmering cottonwoods that shaded her memories.

Don’t get me wrong. I love to read all kinds of stories from “Chicken Soup for the Soul” all the way to zombies, murder and mayhem. I have troubles with “Flowers in the Attic” but that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate good writing. I don’t mind being led to an author I haven’t read before such as Harlan Coban and I absolutely fell in love with Stephen King’s, “Dorothy Claiborne”.  I will always treasure stories like “E.T.” and “The Goonies” (celebrating 25 years), “Toy Story” and any story that encompasses good versus evil. “Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade” is just one of my favorites with the connection to being filmed in Palo Duro Canyon on the Christian Ranch. And don’t get me started on the musical drama TEXAS. More importantly, I remember those who struggled and faced adversity, but found strength within because they were surrounded by friends. I treasure community and neighbors and family, those that touch our lives on the level of all that is good and honest. My passion is to share of heritage, legacy, the pioneer spirit, beauty, patriotism, and freedom. OH sweet freedom. I feel that there is always room for that

I will always treasure the spirit of Aunt Molly and the artistry she shared. And even though I read anything and everything in sight, I just want to write what is true to me, myself and I.  To me each word and every memory is a gem.

By the way this week celebrates the Queens Diamond Jubilee and since Charles Lennox-Gordon-Cummings was titled nobility from Scotland I am sure he would have received an invitation to the festivities. This week also marks the anniversary of D-Day during World War II and may we stop to remember not only June 6 but also each and every day past, present and future that we honor not only those in service, but those on the home front and the veterans and their families that share this common bond that ties us all to conflict and peace.

Last but not least…WTAMU is hosting the SUMMER STORYTELLING CONFERENCE on campus June 8-10, 2012 at the Sybil Harrington Fine Arts Complex. Friday and Saturday there will be concerts in the FAC Recital Hall at 7pm with a Sacred Story Concert Sunday from 9-10:30 a.m. at the Joseph Hill Chapel. Dr. Trudy Hanson has all the registration information and Eldrina Douma has been instrumental in sharing her stories. The guest speakers are from around the country and our own Jodi Thomas will be front and center speaking on creative storytelling.

And don’t forget the Frontiers in Writing Conference June 28 with the best guest speakers ever, Natalie Bright is the conference chair. And then also we celebrate the Writing Academy at WTAMU with Jodi Thomas and Tim Lewis. WHEW what a lineup!

Sharon Stevens

Author Platform

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Author Platform

By Natalie Bright

You’ve heard the term author platform many times. For most people in

business, it takes years to build connections. Many of the vast
opportunities in social media are free, allowing you to build your platform
before you need to be known as a public person.

Writing is the hardest thing you’ll ever do and marketing yourself is even
more difficult. The writing part, you probably can’t help. The marketing
part can be learned and you can work on promotion at the pace you feel
comfortable with.

Fame before the Pub Credit

While you’re working on that great novel, have you considered some of the
other things you can do that will create a fan base and a professional name
for yourself? Every one of the connections you make now equals potential
customers in years to come.

The key to remember is that social media is “social”. You can promote
yourself certainly, and more importantly you can network with other
professionals, discover new favorite authors, communicate with people all
over the world, and find endless knowledge by reading blogs on a array of
topics. It’s an information overload!

Wordsmith Six Blog

The members of my writers critique group started a blog in August of last
year.  To be honest, I held out as long as I could on the blogging and
tweeting. In my mind, it made more sense to use every spare second writing
my stories. I was worried that I might have just so many words in me.

Jumping In to Blogging

Today, I have a totally different opinion. Within my writers critique group,
we decided to  make a concentrated effort to join the social world out there
and start a blog. We didn’t want to be just one in a zillion. First we did
some homework.

Successful Bloggers

After much discussion over the course of several meetings we came to the
following conclusions:

1) most high traffic sites have a specific theme whether it be political,
mommy bloggers, marketing, crafts, etc.
2) we picked a theme: writing and our journey to publication
3) good bloggers, who have lots of followers, are consistent
4) high traffic blogs have interesting information, and since the members of
our critique group write in many different genres, we felt it would lend a
variety and uniqueness to our posts.
5) the numbers are important, but not something to obsess over. The main
thing you can learn from the statistical analysis is the best times to post
and what topics generate the most hits. Interestingly enough, our highest
traffic seems to be around 2:00 PM in the afternoon.
6) the most popular

Based on the results, we’re doing good and we hope to do better.  Every day
we gain more followers.  Thanks for following us!

www.nataliebright.com

Natalie Bright

TEACHING CREATIVITY

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TEACHING CREATIVITY

by Sharon Stevens

“Teach kids to understand everything but to fear nothing.”

Kevin Honeycutt

Almost twenty years ago I sat next to Kathy Gist at the Frontiers in Writing Conference at Amarillo College. She had submitted a story for the contest and all of us in attendance were waiting for the results. Kathy won in not only her category, but the best of all the writings that year. The judges for her wrote magazine articles and their talk was about getting your work published. They loved her story! She had taken a sweet memory of her father, and after his death she had taken fabric from his old shirts and quilted them into a wall hanging for her and her family. She wrote that she gathered them up and buried herself within the folds and grieved with each cut but healed with each stitch.

The look on Kathy’s face was priceless as the presenters listed all the publications and magazines that would be interested to carry her story. They told her to submit it now, as quick as she could and to as many as she dared. And she did. She sent her work to Guidepost and Country magazine among others. It was published in Country and then she found out she had won the Guidepost Short Story Award. The prize for this was a week in New York City with five other winners who would spend their time visiting with agents, publishers, other writers, and teachers of the craft of writing.

I thought of Kathy today as I watched Natalie Bright finish up power points for her own presentation. How blessed I was to be beside her as she went over each graphic chosen especially for this talk. Our daughter, Andrea Keller, a teacher at the Sally B. Elliott Elementary School in Irving Texas, had invited Kevin Honeycutt to Skype, and Natalie to speak at their special author’s event. Natalie teaches creative writing for children at various workshops in Canyon and Amarillo, Texas, She is also the Program Chair for the Frontier in Writing Conference and a blogger for Wordsmith Six Blog. Natalie and Jodi Thomas would be traveling to Dallas for the Dallas/Fort Worth Writers Conference this weekend and had graciously consented to give a talk to the kids over writing and a connection to oil. Natalie and her husband Chris have Sunlight Exploration, as a geologist with an oil and gas business, and she had written the book “Oil People” as a middle reader.

My husband, Joe Stevens was the photographer for the book. He has such a gift in photography, where did he tap into this talent?

Jodi Thomas is a guest speaker at the DFW Writers Conference and her topic is, “To Teach Creativity, Writing Deeper.” And this brings me to the inspiration for this blog.

How do you teach creativity, how do you ingrain writing? To inspire, sure, to instruct, ditto. You can do all of these things. But to be able to take those lessons and create a story is something that comes from within. As I watched Natalie I was overwhelmed with all the emotions exploding in my heart. The colors, the graphics, the whole kit and caboodle came alive and sang to my soul.

I felt the same way when I took Creative Writing classes from Jodi Thomas and DeWanna Pace at the urging of my good friend Connie Hirsch. Jodi taught each of us in the class to write from our own heart. They taught us the craft of writing and the mechanics, but it went so much deeper than that or higher above. They inspired us to tap into ourselves and find a way to transfer that onto print. I also am touched in so many ways with each guest speaker at Panhandle Professional Writers like Barbara Brannon from Texas Tech University Press as they share their passion and gifts. In just a couple of hours they take a simple subject and weave a connection that we can use to our own benefit.

And then again my heart is so full as I watch my daughter gather ideas using all she learned with her Master’s Degree in Educational Technology, but also with Podstock, Follett Higher Education, Destination Imagination, BrainPop, Girl Scouts and on and on. And then there are the people who have touched her life such as Dr. Alice Owen, Dr. Elaine Roberts, and Elaine Plybon. Who was their teacher that gave them their gifts? Andrea has volunteered for years every which way she can, and stores tidbits everywhere she goes. Teaching children with Autism keeps her sharp in all the ways she can give them a voice. Her creativity knows no bounds. Where did she find this spark? How does she transfer it to others? It boggles the mind. My husband and I may have given her life, but the extras she created on her own.

Each and every person connected together share the essence of their creativity. Some exude through their very soul. The definition in my 1890 Webster’s dictionary only describes creativity as related to creation as in birth. And maybe it is nothing more than that. But I believe creativity is what takes a scene or an idea and gives it life, and helps it to explode with vivid colors bright with everything that gives us spirit.

I won’t be there to watch Andrea shine, or as Natalie gives her talk or Kevin Skypes, but I will be blessed to hear them as they share their excitement when they return home, or watch their postings on facebook or email. As God and John Wayne are my witness I know with their creativity they will touch the life of a child, or a parent, or a teacher. And each of those will return to their own homes and their own families and pass these moments on to their siblings and to their friends, AND this will perpetuate an endless cycle of heritage and legacy for eternity. What a treasure!

I think words taken from the musical drama “TEXAS” says it best. “Take good news where you are going, say to the waiting dead that your brothers intend good things. And here where you once followed the Buffalo, a kind and happy people will build their homes and cities in joy and Thanksgiving-trusting in one another, friends to one another. Yes, that’s what I mean, honored warrior and chief. And we will remember your suffering and the suffering and sacrifice of your people and of my own Mother who sleeps in this ground where you will sleep, and so will the better and more beautiful make this land because of you. And our children, and children’s children will remember. WILL REMEMBER!”

Sharon Stevens

CHOICE

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CHOICE
by Sharon Stevens

Recently a news journalist remarked that this was a wonderful time to be a reader, with books, magazines, libraries, bookstores, I-Pads, the Internet and so on.

I beg to differ. I don’t think there is any better or more glorious time in the history of our world than to simply be a writer.

Let me give you an example. On the way into town one morning, I passed a work crew on our neighbor’s land replacing electric poles of the “walking giants.” They were silhouetted against the morning sun and I could just make out the men and women getting into their safety gear, ready to climb into the buckets of their “cherry pickers” in preparation for the assent to the top of the poles.

I got out of my car to snap a quick picture and took just a moment to contemplate the scene before me. For a writer, this pastoral scene was simple and straight forward. But with a flick of my imagination I could conjure up any number of plots and characters. There were so many choices open to me on both sides of the grid requiring no human contact at all. My story could lead in so many different directions and avenues. I could use any emotion or genre of my choice.

My 1890 Webster’s Dictionary defines choice in so many ways. “The act of choosing, the voluntary act of selecting or separating from two or more things. The thing chosen. The best part of anything. That which is preferable and properly the object of choice.”

Again, as a writer, this puts the dilemma right in front of me, making it almost impossible to tackle. Or it does for me.

For instance, I could write a drama regarding one of the men being so distracted with troubles at home, putting the lives of his fellow workers in danger. Or I could pen a romance of the electricians and engineers erecting poles with hard muscles, strong spirit, dedicated heart, and with faces that exuded masculinity or sexuality in their smile, through eyes etched with desire that could look deep into your soul.

Or maybe I could write about safety, including hard hats, or lifelines, or anchors to the ground such as those about safety first that fellow Wordsmith Six blogger Natalie Bright wrote in her book Oil People. What about tragedy and the loss of friends on the job, senseless acts, terrorism on a national scale, shutting down the power grids all across the country. I would have to do a lot of research, but it’s doable.

On the one hand I could write about the power conglomerates tearing up the land, killing the environment, gobbling up natural resources. Or maybe I could choose to focus my story on the hawk I witness every day on my way home from work that settles on top of one of the cross bars of the electric pole just high enough to survey his domain as he looks for a tasty meal from his lofty perch.

What about cattle ranches and farmers? Each pole the power company erected was across generations of neighbors’ land on both sides of the spectrum. I could write about the power companies taking Eminent Domain, growth hormones, Mad Cow disease, PETA, or vegetarians. Or I could write about Molly and Charles Goodnight and the Goodnight-Loving Trail, John Wayne, saving the environment, the beef industry, steaks sizzling on the grill for an outdoor cookout, hamburger sliders at a tailgate party for the Super Bowl.

And where would we be if there was no electricity or fuel to run the tractors, the cotton gins, and the grain elevators. Without this most basic commodity farmers would not be able to feed their neighbors, their families and their friends here in the community, but also throughout the world.

And then there is politics. I could choose any debate on the energy crisis, oil embargoes, foreign oil, offshore drilling. Or I could write about how thankful I am that Franklin Delano Roosevelt worked so hard for us to have rural electric power that runs our water well, the microwave, the washer and dryer, the lights, the heat, the air-conditioner, the refrigerator that keeps all food and produce at the peak of freshness, and of course, last but not least, our T.V.

But I am also intent on sharing the story that electricity levels the playing field for all businesses, corporations, and CEO’s, that reach from the tallest sky scrapers down to the littlest mom and pop shops alike.

The sky remains the limit for me or any writer worth their salt. I could undertake a screenplay, a stage play, a murder mystery, non-fiction, horror, science fiction/fantasy, westerns, children’s book, or even a song lyric. “I am a lineman for the county,” as Glen Campbell would sing. And if my little heart desires I could find a place for vampires, werewolves, blood sucking aliens, or energy guzzling robots. And how easy it would be to connect and pay tribute to all that protect and serve against all forms of those who spew evil in every walk of life.

So many choices, so many avenues, limitless possibilities.

After staying to watch the men work to link the cables that stretched from one end of the earth to another I knew I had to get to town. I took one last glance and climbed back into my car. My heart was heavy with the magnitude of decisions I would have to make. Once I left this place I feared the memories would dim. But as I turned my eye I caught the reflection of the breaking sun. The brilliance burst across the horizon through the clouds. I knew I had my answer. I could choose to write about the worst of society, the ills of mankind, the stupidness of humanity at large, or I could go with my first impression.

What I first witnessed in my heart and soul when I saw the framework of trucks embracing the giants was the Holy Trinity…the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, and encircled within was the symbol of the cross. I could see the light of the Spirit rising above the scene with all of His majesty. I pictured the fields and the pastures and all the creatures below enveloped in the warmth of His gentle embrace all across the land.

And that leaves me with MY definition of “choice” from Webster’s Dictionary, “Holding dear, selecting with care. Worthy of being preferred, select, precious, very valuable.

And I knew at that precise moment what I would write.

No question, this is truly a glorious time to be a writer!

Sharon Stevens

CHOICE

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CHOICE
by Sharon Stevens

Recently a news journalist remarked that this was a wonderful time to be a reader, with books, magazines, libraries, bookstores, I-Pads, the Internet and so on.

I beg to differ. I don’t think there is any better or more glorious time in the history of our world than to simply be a writer.

Let me give you an example. On the way into town one morning, I passed a work crew on our neighbor’s land replacing electric poles of the “walking giants.” They were silhouetted against the morning sun and I could just make out the men and women getting into their safety gear, ready to climb into the buckets of their “cherry pickers” in preparation for the assent to the top of the poles.

I got out of my car to snap a quick picture and took just a moment to contemplate the scene before me. For a writer, this pastoral scene was simple and straight forward. But with a flick of my imagination I could conjure up any number of plots and characters. There were so many choices open to me on both sides of the grid requiring no human contact at all. My story could lead in so many different directions and avenues. I could use any emotion or genre of my choice.

My 1890 Webster’s Dictionary defines choice in so many ways. “The act of choosing, the voluntary act of selecting or separating from two or more things. The thing chosen. The best part of anything. That which is preferable and properly the object of choice.”

Again, as a writer, this puts the dilemma right in front of me, making it almost impossible to tackle. Or it does for me.

For instance, I could write a drama regarding one of the men being so distracted with troubles at home, putting the lives of his fellow workers in danger. Or I could pen a romance of the electricians and engineers erecting poles with hard muscles, strong spirit, dedicated heart, and with faces that exuded masculinity or sexuality in their smile, through eyes etched with desire that could look deep into your soul.

Or maybe I could write about safety, including hard hats, or lifelines, or anchors to the ground such as those about safety first that fellow Wordsmith Six blogger Natalie Bright wrote in her book Oil People. What about tragedy and the loss of friends on the job, senseless acts, terrorism on a national scale, shutting down the power grids all across the country. I would have to do a lot of research, but it’s doable.

On the one hand I could write about the power conglomerates tearing up the land, killing the environment, gobbling up natural resources. Or maybe I could choose to focus my story on the hawk I witness every day on my way home from work that settles on top of one of the cross bars of the electric pole just high enough to survey his domain as he looks for a tasty meal from his lofty perch.

What about cattle ranches and farmers? Each pole the power company erected was across generations of neighbors’ land on both sides of the spectrum. I could write about the power companies taking Eminent Domain, growth hormones, Mad Cow disease, PETA, or vegetarians. Or I could write about Molly and Charles Goodnight and the Goodnight-Loving Trail, John Wayne, saving the environment, the beef industry, steaks sizzling on the grill for an outdoor cookout, hamburger sliders at a tailgate party for the Super Bowl.

And where would we be if there was no electricity or fuel to run the tractors, the cotton gins, and the grain elevators. Without this most basic commodity farmers would not be able to feed their neighbors, their families and their friends here in the community, but also throughout the world.

And then there is politics. I could choose any debate on the energy crisis, oil embargoes, foreign oil, offshore drilling. Or I could write about how thankful I am that Franklin Delano Roosevelt worked so hard for us to have rural electric power that runs our water well, the microwave, the washer and dryer, the lights, the heat, the air-conditioner, the refrigerator that keeps all food and produce at the peak of freshness, and of course, last but not least, our T.V.

But I am also intent on sharing the story that electricity levels the playing field for all businesses, corporations, and CEO’s, that reach from the tallest sky scrapers down to the littlest mom and pop shops alike.

The sky remains the limit for me or any writer worth their salt. I could undertake a screenplay, a stage play, a murder mystery, non-fiction, horror, science fiction/fantasy, westerns, children’s book, or even a song lyric. “I am a lineman for the county,” as Glen Campbell would sing. And if my little heart desires I could find a place for vampires, werewolves, blood sucking aliens, or energy guzzling robots. And how easy it would be to connect and pay tribute to all that protect and serve against all forms of those who spew evil in every walk of life.

So many choices, so many avenues, limitless possibilities.

After staying to watch the men work to link the cables that stretched from one end of the earth to another I knew I had to get to town. I took one last glance and climbed back into my car. My heart was heavy with the magnitude of decisions I would have to make. Once I left this place I feared the memories would dim. But as I turned my eye I caught the reflection of the breaking sun. The brilliance burst across the horizon through the clouds. I knew I had my answer. I could choose to write about the worst of society, the ills of mankind, the stupidness of humanity at large, or I could go with my first impression.

What I first witnessed in my heart and soul when I saw the framework of trucks embracing the giants was the Holy Trinity…the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, and encircled within was the symbol of the cross. I could see the light of the Spirit rising above the scene with all of His majesty. I pictured the fields and the pastures and all the creatures below enveloped in the warmth of His gentle embrace all across the land.

And that leaves me with MY definition of “choice” from Webster’s Dictionary, “Holding dear, selecting with care. Worthy of being preferred, select, precious, very valuable.

And I knew at that precise moment what I would write.

No question, this is truly a glorious time to be a writer!

Sharon Stevens

Point of View

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TRAILS END – The novel

Point of View

When I first attempted writing, I knew what every character was thinking and doing, how they felt, and why. I simply told the reader all they needed to know. Learning to write from one character’s point of view and letting them show the reader the story, became intimidating. For a while I became stifled, unable to make any progress with my story.

With the help of my good friends in Wordsmith Six, and attending the Jodi Thomas Writers Academy at WTAM, I’m learning. There is, however, a POV I still struggle with. Trails End is a main character in my novel, and I really want to incorporate the horse’s POV a few times through out the story. I just finished such a chapter, and I have no idea if it will fly. My Wordsmith Six group might have to fix it.

Have you seen the movie “War Horse”? The book was loaned to me by Natalie Bright because it’s written entirely from the horse’s POV. What a great story. So at least I know it can be done. I can only hope my novel will be as compelling.

Thanks for reading,

Joe

 

GONE NEVER FORGOTTEN

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By Natalie Bright

I have the perfect home office, which I blogged about previously at WordSmith Six.

Sometimes, the ideal situation might stifle your creative muse, as I found out when I tried to write a story that has been on my heart and mind for the past fifteen years. The story is about the loss of our firstborn son, and to write it I had to be in the middle of the chaos, with television and two perfectly healthy sons asking, “what’s for dinner”. The result is a book for grieving parents and families who’ve suffered the loss of a baby.

GONE NEVER FORGOTTEN offers healing words through verse and text for grieving parents. I didn’t begin where most books do on this topic; instead, I started at what happens when you get home. With empty arms, parents have to return to their life without the much anticipated new addition to their family. The daily struggle seems endless and the loss is something you may never get over, but we made it through and you can too.

In addition to several of my favorite Bible verses, two very special ladies have contributed poetry on grief and hope.

Marianne McNeil Logan is an award winning rhyming poet. I’ve admired Marianne’s work for many years, and I enjoy rereading her chapbooks as inspiration for words and the writing craft. She continues to be a strong voice of encouragement for our local writing community.

Nell Lindenmeyer is a long-time friend through a our day jobs and through our work in an organization which educates its members about the energy industry. When I discovered she wrote poetry, I asked if she might have some pieces on grief and the free-verse samples she sent absolutely blew me away. I hope you find inspiration and peace through them as much as I did.

From my heart to yours, GONE NEVER FORGOTTEN, is a book of hope and healing after the loss of a baby, and is available on amazon.com for your Kindle. Click on the title now to download to your Kindle, and please let me know if any of the content touches your heart. Email me natalie@nataliebright.com.

Read an excerpt below:

1. LIVING WITH GRIEF

This past year our oldest son would have turned fifteen. As I write, tears fill my eyes, and I swallow the lump in my throat. How could I have forgotten his birthday again? I had planned to purchase a wreath, fasten a well-used toy from a younger brother’s room, and visit the cemetery to honor the special day. In the swirl of daily life, the date had slipped past, and I had done nothing.

Through the years, the pain over losing a baby will resurface out of nowhere. Special dates and events will pass without a second thought, and at other times, the overwhelming sense of loss will smack you out of nowhere. You must learn to live with your grief.

Playgrounds are difficult for me. Watching children yell and swing and slide reminds me of the missing link in our family. Certain times of the year are more painful than others. When I buy new clothes and school supplies for our two sons, I always feel a certain sense of loss and emptiness. I should be buying three sets of erasers, glue, and colored notebooks, instead of two.

During the past years, the only way I have found best to deal with this grief is to block the five days of our firstborn son’s life from my mind. That’s the way it’s been since we lost our sweet Clayton. My husband finds comfort in stopping by his grave and honoring our son on birthdays and holidays. For me, when I visit the cemetery, I sink into a deep depression that lasts for weeks. The memory of the overwhelming sense of hopelessness I felt as we left the hospital with empty arms consumes me. Every emotion and memory vividly haunts me, even now fifteen years later. I have learned to block the delivery experience from my thoughts without guilt, all the while remembering his presence in this world.

To read more, GONE NEVER FORGOTTEN is available on Kindle for only $4.99.

  • Format: Kindle Edition
  • File Size: 37 KB
  • Publisher: Apollo Publishing LLC; 1 edition (August 25, 2011)
  • Sold by: Amazon Digital Services
  • Language: English
  • ASIN: B005K9POP2

“Put feet to your dreams.”

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“Put feet to your dreams.” –Jodi Thomas

by Sharon Stevens

I took my first creative writing class at Amarillo College in 1993 with the encouragement of a friend, Connie Hirsch. The class was taught by Jodi Thomas and DeWanna Pace, not only teachers but authors in their own right. I was surrounded by every conceivable genre known to man…or woman…or beast as the case may be. One gentleman was a Civil War buff, one lady historical romance. There was a man who was writing a book on the murder of his daughter by her husband, but also wrote the most moving stories of his family during their time in a hospital ICU. You could tell there were some serious writers as well as those who wanted only to publish the great American novel bypassing the work it took to get there, obviously impatient with the entire process.

I didn’t fit into any niche. My passion was not to write a novel or publish a book. I just wanted to set down simple family stories into a tangible medium to preserve from my generation to the next.

Connie had told me that the first night they used a writing exercise about coming across a single shoe and telling its story. The wonderful thing about Jodi and DeWanna’s class is that you never had to read aloud if you didn’t want to. You could just listen to the other stories and share if you wished.

I never wished. I agonized over my story again and again. I knew what it entailed and where the characters were led. I understood the dynamics and shared the pain and the joy involved with my lost shoe. But I never could finish. There was something so painful in the memories that led up to the shoe being lost. These weren’t ugly memories per se, and there was love involved within the family so it wasn’t a pure loss. But for some reason my thoughts made me cry and tugged at my heart. Maybe because I knew the ending ended with sweetness, or that I knew it would never end that way, could never end that way, should never end that way.

I have written so many stories since that first night of class, wonderful, joyous celebrations of community and heritage. Surrounded by family and friends my heart has been full as I witnessed kindness and care, but also ugliness and stupidity with bullies and charlatans galore. I have seen true acts of faith and patriotism coupled with treason and discrimination, all in one day. Each and every one has found a place in the thoughts I put down on paper.

Over all I have taken three separate creative writing classes from Jodi. I joined the Panhandle Professional Writers, attended several Frontiers in Writing Conferences, submitted articles for publication, some published, most not, and was one of the co-founders of the Jodi Thomas Fan Club with friends Connie Hirsch and Natalie Bright. I shared “Sowing Jodi” with Claudia Wilson as she and her husband traveled around the country as park host, and visited local libraries to celebrate the books of Jodi. I wish I could list all the others who have crossed my path on my writing travels, but it would be endless.

I also can’t tell you how wonderful it is to celebrate the journey of Phyllis Miranda and Linda Broday as they come into their own right with their “Give Me A Texan” anthologies along with Jodi and DeWanna. At the recent book signing for the launch of their latest anthology, “Give Me A Texas Outlaw” at Barnes and Nobles in Amarillo, DeWanna shared with me that August would be celebrating thirty years since she and Jodi took their very first creative writing class together at Amarillo College. As I watched Linda, Phyllis, Jodi and DeWanna sign book after book and visit with fan after fan I was overwhelmed. Never once, not once in all the times I have known these wonderful ladies have they been unkind, or impatient. They have answered questions, shared tips and celebrated the success of every writer who crosses their path.

I may never finish the story of the lost shoe. Jodi and DeWanna understand. But you can bet if I do complete the memory they will be the first to give kudo’s.

My shoe was lost by the side of the road. It was real, it was tangible and it was there, and will remain there until I am ready to go back, pick it up, and place it among my heirlooms to treasure. After all its only one shoe. I realize now that Jodi and DeWanna share the other.

Congratulations on their journey!  Sharon Stevens

HAMILTONIAN

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HAMILTONIAN

by Sharon Stevens

Author Jennifer Archer encouraged us to celebrate National Book Week by choosing a book close at hand, turning to page 56, reading the fifth sentence, then posting it without listing the title of the book or author.

In an old used paperback I had culled from the shelves, next to my writing space (Natalie Bright, August 8, 2011) I found, “They ain’t nothing but animals, they really ain’t.” (1)

What fun! Intrigued I then took it one step further. My husband and I were stocking college textbooks on the shelves of our Buffalo Bookstore getting ready for the fall semester at WTAMU and I came across the words “In addition, some youngsters got involved painting artistic travel posters to decorate the area.”(2)

In another book I found “As if they were spiritual consumers, young adults are shopping around among a wide range of religious traditions, in the process they are finding new ways to incorporate religion into their daily lives:”(3) Last but not least I read in still another book, “Explain why the tour ABCFECDBA is not a Hamiltonian circuit for the graph below.”(4)

A journalist remarked that of all the generations this was the best time to be a reader, that with libraries, Kindles, Nooks, bookstores as well as Google and Bing you can read any time and any place. Since we own a bookstore filled with used paperbacks, local authors and college textbooks, and with being a living American and breathing free, I wholeheartedly agree! I can go anywhere and pick up whatever suits my fancy at any moment to coincide with my mood at the time. I am then free to put it back down if it doesn’t suit my fancy, (as in studying about the Hamiltonian Circuit) and pursue my passion somewhere else.

Each book to me is a treasure shared from the author directly to my heart. I celebrate each letter, sentence and chapter. Being involved in a writers critique group and a member of Panhandle Professional Writers I know what it takes to put words down on paper and pursue ideas to publication.

I found a chapter on literacy for children, “Many people seem to think that reading is pronouncing the sounds of letters and that writing is about copying print or putting sounds together. These people have forgotten that the purpose of reading is to make meaning.”

And I guess this is what I treasure the most in reading is to “make meaning”. Everything I read connects to some part of my life, my heart, and my soul. I read for pleasure, I read to learn, I read to relish, but I also read to share. What else is a good book for but to pass on to others. On that note, it is amazing how one of my favorite authors always seems to put words together meant just for me, “The silence seemed to stretch miles between them.”(5)

I have a Webster’s Dictionary from 1890, and the fifth sentence down on page 56 is written, “ANTIQUITIES-The remains of ancient times. In this sense it is usually plural.”

The next sentence goes on to relate that “Antiquities comprehend all the remains of ancient times; all the monuments, coins, inscriptions, edifices, history, and fragments of literature, offices, habiliments, weapons, manners, ceremonies; in short whatever respects any of the ancient nations of the earth.”

Thanks Jennifer Archer, as an author, for reminding me to celebrate everything I hold most dear. I couldn’t have written it better myself.

Sharon Stevens

1. Royal Stud, by Stuart Jason

2. Let’s Begin Reading Right,by Marjorie Fields, Lois A. Groth, Katherine L. Spangler

3. Sociology The New Millennium, by Jenifer Kunz & Claudia Stuart professors at WTAMU

4. For All Practical Purposes, Mathematical Literacy in Today’s World by Comap

5. Texas Blue by Jodi Thomas