Tag Archives: Sharon Stevens

SWORDDRILL

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SWORDDRILL

Sharon Stevens

I was so sorry to have missed the last Panhandle Professional Writers meeting due to a family emergency. Jan Epton Seale spoke several years ago at a conference at WTAMU, and it was such a joy to hear her stories. I purchased one of her books and stuck it in my bag. The next day my husband, mom and aunt would be making our yearly trek to the family homestead in East Texas for a reunion, and then for the Sunday service at the little country church. This book would be something to take along for the trip.

After we got on the road I pulled out the book, explaining the story. Jan’s father was a Baptist preacher and her book contained poetry and snippets of family and community life in a small town. I was encouraged to read out loud. Could be it was to keep me from talking. Either way the miles began to pass as I started turned the pages. One of the chapters had to do with Sword Drills. We were Methodists except for my husband, and he instantly remembered this Baptist tradition. The kids in Sunday school would line up holding their closed Bibles in front of their chest waiting for the signal. The teacher called out a Bible verse, and the child who was first in finding chapter and verse won the drill.

This led each of us to reminisce about memories growing up. We shared about Church picnics, (fun whatever the faith), Baptism (sprinkling versus dunking), fire and brimstone (the Methodist church doesn’t have too many pulpit pounding services.)

When we arrived at the church my great aunt was sitting in her pew with several friends clustered around her. I took Jan’s book and began circulating among those gathered at the church. Each one signed the inside after I told them I would be giving it to my aunt after the service as a gift and record of the memories of our time together.

My aunt was over ninety years old and she sent me a letter telling me how much she enjoyed reading and rereading the stories and remembering each person at the church that day. I was assured by her family that she cherished this until her death years later.

As writers we may not know the journey our stories will take when they are published. Who can fathom how far they may travel? Just think, Jan Seale wrote her book from a Baptist standpoint of her childhood memories, but it was shared several years later to those with a common faith. I so wanted to tell her at the Panhandle Professional Writers meeting how much this book meant to me, and how I shared it with others. I know that to a writer there is no greater accolade.

Recently I saw a facebook post encouraging people to write fan letters to five favorite authors. There are so many in my life that I need to write to. Loula Grace Erdman, Jodi Thomas, Natalie Bright, DeWanna Pace, and now Jan Epton Seale, are just a few out of thousands on my “bucket list” that deserve to be honored. I know that it will take a lifetime to list them all, and then another to put words to paper. How can I ever find the write words? So little time and so many thoughts.

But, when I do finally sit down to focus on the task at hand, in the back of my mind, with each note written, I will always remember Jan, and the sword drill.

NAILS

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NAILS

By Sharon Stevens

You’ll never guess what I was doing on Good Friday this year.

For starters, I dropped by Stevens Flowers to pick up a special gift to celebrate a family birthday, a wedding, and a new birth, all in the same family. Stepping out the door I noticed a feather on the sidewalk and knew I was on the right path. Next I stopped by Haley’s Printing, then to Johnston’s Hardware for nails, and then I continued on my journey on past the Palace Coffee House. Another stop was a purchase of the 100-year issue of the Canyon News. Before entering I read the Historical marker about the Warwick family, such a legacy for our town. Round and round I went traveling the entire courthouse square taking pictures of every business and each memory. My final stop was at the statue of the World War I Doughboy to pay my respects, and to read the names on the plaque for remembrance. This is the very least I can do.  Even with the shadowing trees gone that shaded the warrior from the sun, he still stands ever at the ready for whatever battle calls him to arms.

After returning to my place of origin, and before stepping back into my car, I stopped once again at Stevens Flowers and photographed the feather still resting in front of the store on the sidewalk, my heart coming full circle once again.

And the nails…at the beginning of my journey I walked in to Johnston’s Hardware and was greeted by Curt Johnston as always. Even though my husband had been by several times this was the first time I had been in the store since it was remodeled. This was beautiful! Bringing back the tin ceilings showcased all those items found at any local hardware store, but the silver reflecting from above brightened even the dreariest tool.

But my mission was all about the nails.

Curt asked me which kind I needed and what size or for what project. How could I explain to him that I had no clue?

As a writer I wanted the nails to represent so many memories to segue into a story. Since it was Good Friday of course this would connect to the Crucifixion of Christ, but this wasn’t my main focus. I had a thought in my mind that reminded me of a sweet memory shared with me about nails at the family Grove Hill Methodist Church in Leonard Texas. There was another story in my mind about an American Flag I found nailed to the wall in an abandoned house, the sole purpose of this beautiful symbol used only to hide illegal activity. On another vein I also wanted to honor my husband, patiently waiting on me at our own hometown business, the Buffalo Bookstore. He deserved a precious story about his life as a craftsman, and all the things he had built with his own hands over the years. And I could never forget Joseph as a carpenter, and his Son, Jesus, learning the trade of his Father.

There was no way I could give a description or reasoning OR explanation for this piece of hardware so Curt could direct me further. “For want of a nail…” Any piece of steel would do as long as the word, “nail” was listed on the box. I needed something so tangible and physical that it would inspire every sentence, every thought. I knew how Nandy Ekle felt with her Wordsmithsix blog, “The Grail” about her Stephen King cup. If I just had the perfect nail I knew I could create any masterpiece of my choosing. Pain or joy would be at my fingertips, straight through to my soul, exuding my thoughts from pen to paper.

Quickly I chose from the display loaded with every length and penny. Under Curt’s guiding but watchful eye I didn’t want to close my eyes and pick. He probably thought, no, he knew I was already looney, just kind enough not to say so. I chose quickly and took my purchase up to the front, and paid the price worth every cent. I asked after Curt’s family and told him to tell them hello. Precious people in a hometown business, you can’t get any better than this. When I left the store I continued around the circle back to my car and found the feather again.

How could I ever explain to anyone of the significance of the nail?

This coming Monday is Holocaust Remembrance Day (Yom Hashoah). In researching this blog I read so many quotes and memories. Some I found even related to nails. One was a negative connotation referring to being crooked, another was explaining the beauty of nails, (fingernails) with the lighting of the Sabbath candles. Still another describes the reasoning behind Jewish law only allowing natural materials like plain wood for a coffin so the body can return naturally to earth. Nails could be an item that would impede the process of decomposition.

But I think what hit the nail on the head was the note I came across with the founding of this holiday on April 12, 1951 that signified “Devastation and Heroism Day”.

Since Yom Hashaoh is a relatively new holiday there are no set rules or rituals. What kind of rituals could represent the Holocaust?

EASTER

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EASTER

By Sharon Stevens

 

Carla Stewart recently blogged with Susan Reinhardt about writing, and also about her book, “The Moses Conspiracy”. Reinhardt said something that truly touched my heart. Her words… “The novel was born from an experience I had while standing in Gettysburg Square on December 2004. Surrounded by old buildings, I “heard” the forefathers voices, but they were like fading echoes.”

Can you imagine standing in Gettysburg Square? What did Susan feel, sense, smell, hear, or touch with the echoes of the forefathers? Who was there to tug at her thoughts? I am sure she didn’t hear laughter, but then again, what if she sensed the families that strolled through the town at better times.

How many of us stop and actually listen to the voices of our characters? How does the setting change if we turn in this direction? How can we write our stories if we can’t hear what they are saying? So many times we are so afraid of losing the terrific thoughts running through our brain that we forget to forge the story within. We are petrified that if we stop for even just a moment in time, all will be lost and we will have to start all over again. But the opposite is so true. Sometimes, if we breathe with the heart of our character, OUR heart will carry on to complete the scene.

I remember how Natalie Bright told our critique group that her character would wake her up at night urging her to tell the story. Jodi Thomas spent nights at the computer only to hear the alarm go off the next morning just in time to get ready to teach school. Paul Green, who wrote the musical drama TEXAS, said that the panhandle was his thinking day and night.

Without a doubt we need to listen to our characters, but then again, not to forget they also took time out of their busy lives to celebrate life itself.

Someone left behind a desk diary from 2002, “On Writers & Writing” by Helen Sheehy & Leslie Stainton. Each page listed an author and the story of their life. To me, this was a true treasure on every level. The calendar itself had spaces to write thoughts and memories. The birth or death dates of authors were inserted at the bottom of each entry. But it was the stories of all the authors that caused my heart to leap for joy!

The March notation is the life story of Olaudah Equiano who was born sometime in 1745 and died March 31, 1797. Equiano’s life story began when he was kidnapped at age 11 and shipped to America for a life of slavery, “in a state of distraction not to be described.” He wrote an autobiography recounting the violence of being branded and beaten, but also of being taken in by an officer of the Royal Navy who taught him to read. He writes, “I had a great curiosity to talk to the books as I thought they did.” Equiano recalled. “for that purpose I have often taken up a book and have talked to it and then put my ears to it, when in hopes it would answer me.”

As writers, may you always take a moment to listen to your books as they tell their story! And may your books have a story to tell.

Happy Easter!

SWORDDRILL

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SWORDDRILL

Sharon Stevens

I was so sorry to have missed the last Panhandle Professional Writers meeting due to a family emergency. Jan Epton Seale spoke several years ago at a conference at WTAMU, and it was such a joy to hear her stories. I purchased one of her books and stuck it in my bag. The next day my husband, mom and aunt would be making our yearly trek to the family homestead in East Texas for a reunion, and then for the Sunday service at the little country church. This book would be something to take along for the trip.

After we got on the road I pulled out the book, explaining the story. Jan’s father was a Baptist preacher and her book contained poetry and snippets of family and community life in a small town. I was encouraged to read out loud. Could be it was to keep me from talking. Either way the miles began to pass as I started turned the pages. One of the chapters had to do with Sword Drills. We were Methodists except for my husband, and he instantly remembered this Baptist tradition. The kids in Sunday school would line up holding their closed Bibles in front of their chest waiting for the signal. The teacher called out a Bible verse, and the child who was first in finding chapter and verse won the drill.

This led each of us to reminisce about memories growing up. We shared about Church picnics, (fun whatever the faith), Baptism (sprinkling versus dunking), fire and brimstone (the Methodist church doesn’t have too many pulpit pounding services.)

When we arrived at the church my great aunt was sitting in her pew with several friends clustered around her. I took Jan’s book and began circulating among those gathered at the church. Each one signed the inside after I told them I would be giving it to my aunt after the service as a gift and record of the memories of our time together.

My aunt was over ninety years old and she sent me a letter telling me how much she enjoyed reading and rereading the stories and remembering each person at the church that day. I was assured by her family that she cherished this until her death years later.

As writers we may not know the journey our stories will take when they are published. Who can fathom how far they may travel? Just think, Jan Seale wrote her book from a Baptist standpoint of her childhood memories, but it was shared several years later to those with a common faith. I so wanted to tell her at the Panhandle Professional Writers meeting how much this book meant to me, and how I shared it with others. I know that to a writer there is no greater accolade.

Recently I saw a facebook post encouraging people to write fan letters to five favorite authors. There are so many in my life that I need to write to. Loula Grace Erdman, Jodi Thomas, Natalie Bright, DeWanna Pace, and now Jan Epton Seale, are just a few out of thousands on my “bucket list” that deserve to be honored. I know that it will take a lifetime to list them all, and then another to put words to paper. How can I ever find the write words? So little time and so many thoughts.

But, when I do finally sit down to focus on the task at hand, in the back of my mind, with each note written, I will always remember Jan, and the sword drill.

Jan Epton Seale

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Jan Epton Seale

www.janseale.com

Jan Epton Seale, the 2012-13 Texas Poet Laureate, is a native Texan who lives in McAllen, in the southern tip of Texas. She is the author of seven volumes of poetry, two books of short fiction, three books of nonfiction, and nine children’s books.

Her writing has appeared in many magazines and newspapers including The Yale Review, Texas Monthly, The Chicago Tribune, and Writer’s Digest. Some anthologies including her work are Writing on the Wind, Let’s Hear It!, Red Boots and Attitude, If I Had My Life to Live Over, Cries of the Spirit, Mixed Voices, This Place in Memory, and Birds in the Hand.

In l982, Seale received a National Endowment for the Arts creative writing fellowship in poetry. Seven of her short stories were chosen in the P.E.N. Syndicated Fiction Awards series. Her poetry has received the Kathryn Morris Memorial Award from the Poetry Society of Texas, and the Bill Burke Award and Dolly Sprunk Memorial Award from the New York Poetry Forum. Her stories and poems have been broadcast over National Public Radio.

Workshops and readings by Seale have taken place in Washington, Oregon, Oklahoma, Taos and Santa Fe, New Mexico, and in Texas in Dallas, Denton, Waco, Houston, Abilene, El Paso, Austin, and San Antonio, as well as many in the Rio Grande Valley.

For 16 years she was the South Texas editor of Texas Books in Review. Other editorial work includes serving as a founding editor of RiverSedge literary journal and as an editor of The Valley Land Fund pictorial volumes.

Seale was born in Pilot Point, Texas, graduated from Waxahachie High School, attended Baylor University, and received a B.A. from The University of Louisville and a M.A. from North Texas State University.

She taught English and creative writing at The University of Texas-Pan American and at North Texas State University. For a number of years, she has taught workshops in creative and memoir writing, both locally and nationally at conference centers such as Ghost Ranch in New Mexico, Gemini Ink in San Antonio, and Mo Ranch in the Hill Country of Texas.

Seale is available for readings of her work and for workshops in writing poetry and nonfiction. Besides these genre interests, she specializes in the subject areas of memoir, nature, aging, spirituality, and women’s lives. She is on the Speaker’s Bureau for Humanities Texas, speaking about the influence of personal stories on family life. She is a member of the Texas Institute of Letters.

Jan Seale and her husband Carl, a retired symphony conductor and composer, have three grown sons and four grandsons. www.janseale.com

Panhandle Professional Writers

Saturday, March 16 we look forward to having Jan Seale, with “Writing the Story of Your Life.”  Want to learn the basic story structure to use, what to include, and pitfalls?  Come hear Jan’s talk on writing one’s memoirs.  Greeting time begins at 9:30 a.m. at Amarillo Senior Citizens, 1219 S. Tyler, Amarillo, TX. – entrance on the southwest corner.  Join us for lunch at Noon:  Pasta La Mexican – Penne pasta topped with diced chicken, mixed vegetables, and pablano cream sauce.  Top this off with fresh tomatoes, corn relish and cilantro.  Dessert and drinks are included, all for $10.00, with morning and afternoon snacks also provided.  Come join us to learn more on “Writing the Story of Your Life.”

You may make lunch reservations by contacting Donna Otto at ppwlunch@gmail.com

PUDDING

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PUDDING

By Sharon Stevens

My husband was preparing supper on the stove. He does it all the time and I, for one, am so very proud that he does. But this is not what my blog is about this week.

I decided that I wanted to have a little sweetness after the meal and found packages of JELLO pudding up in the cabinet. After choosing “cheesecake”, my favorite, and reading the directions I gathered everything together and began to mix. One problem became apparent though. The instructions said to mix for two minutes. Well my husband was at the stove and the timer was on the microwave aboveYou may think this was no big deal. “Tell him to punch in the time” you say. “Yea right”, I say. By the time he turned from the stove to ask how many minutes, and then by the time he turned back around to set the timer, and then by the time he asked me again, “how many minutes?” the whole shebang would be over. I know this from past experience. Of course there is no way you can ever ruin JELLO pudding. They give so much leeway when you purchase the product. The directions are just guidelines not set in stone. The company just wants you to mix until everything is mixed together and a little more.

You see I can’t even bake bread, or a decent cake, or brownies. Just because the recipe says to cook in a 350-degree oven for thirty minutes this doesn’t mean MY oven or MY temperature or even MY minutes. And when they say cook until the surface springs back, or that a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean, well then Heaven help us! This just doesn’t apply to me.

So many times we have the same problem in our writing. How can we ever know it is done? We keep mixing and adding until the most basic recipe is lost in translation. Sometimes we step back to let it preheat or to stew just a little bit thinking this will fix it. Oftentimes the results are far worse. If I stirred the pudding mix for 1.35 minutes or 3.24 minutes I really don’t think it will ruin the final dish. What destroys the original is the distress we insert as we go. We may be mad or angry and our spoons become our weapon. We may be happy or sad and the same utensils we laid out in the very beginning become a symbol for our tears of joy or pain. Under mix or over mix, you just never know.

After we ate the “sloppy Joe’s” my husband made for supper, he dished himself up a bowl of desert. I didn’t tell him he was in the way so I couldn’t set the timer. I NEVER want to discourage his time at the stove. I hope when he tasted my contribution that he couldn’t tell that I didn’t mix it for the exact amount of time the instructions on the box called for.

My sweet husband told me he liked it and that’s all that matters.

Must be that the proof was in the pudding.

COMPATRIOTS

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COMPATRIOTS

By Sharon Stevens

 

We had such fun at critique group last week. Everyone brought a strong story and shared. As usual we each had a take on what our characters were trying to say with what voice. I had found an article in the Amarillo Globe News by Chip Chandler about WTAMU’s “Anatomy of Gray”, the play at the Sybil B. Harrington Theatre.  Caleb Brink who played the healer, Galen Gray, had kept a diary in Gray’s voice to try to better understand his character.

I had everyone at critique to write a diary entry of their characters. We didn’t go into depth, but just used one liner’s to describe an entry as if they had written into their own journal with their characters voice. Boy did we get some zingers! Fun had by all, lifting the spirits from the serious side of deep characters from all across the spectrum.

I have my grandfather’s diary from World War I in France at the signing of the Armistice, and on February 23, 1919 he wrote that he was …

“Disturbed, Disappointed, Discouraged, Disheartened, & Disgusted. I don’t know how many more “dis” I could use but I feel like using all of them.”

Now what could have made such a young man be so discouraged? He was homesick and so many ships had already headed west. He had LaGrippe (Spanish Flu) and I’m sure he didn’t feel well. His commanding officer had bawled the company out and that may have got him down. Who knows what was bothering him on this particular day.

I think as writers that every once in awhile we need to write an entry into the diaries of our characters. We need to give them a “voice” so we can share in their thoughts and feelings. So many times we, especially me, just skim the surface, keeping everything hunky-dory with sunshine and rainbows. Our stories can become more real if we give them a moment to pause or tinge them with a little sorrow, or at least simply a heart.

Writing a diary is also a timeline of the day’s events and everything about the weather. To think about it, after I took my first creative writing class and was working on my novel I took a daily planner and jotted down the sights and smells and sensations that surrounded me each day. I can still go back and read those entries and it whisks me right back to that time period.

This Sunday represents the anniversary of the letter Colonel William B. Travis wrote to cry for help for his fellow Texans. This letter will be coming home to the Alamo for the first time since it left the mission in 1836. In all essence this correspondence is a diary entry. I wonder how many times Travis wrote the message in his head. Did he share it with Bowie, or Crockett, or any of the other men there with him? Did he really think anyone would come or was he resigned to his fate and those around him, and just wrote the words to keep up appearances, convinced that help was coming?

During World War II Dorothy Gill wrote in her book, “Memories of World War II” that her husband and his fellow National Guard Texas “T-Patchers” carried a copy of Travis’ letter in the Standard of the American Flag as they stormed the beach at Salerno Italy. I wonder how many diary entries were written before and after the battle where they shared stories of home and loved ones, or even just the weather. Who knows what they wrote in their heart and soul.

Tonight the weathermen predict snow, sleet and treacherous roads. We plan on having another critique group meeting tomorrow evening if the weather holds.

I wonder what we will write in the diaries of our characters as if they were facing the same events. I don’t think sunshine and rainbows quite fills the bill.

Commandancy of the Alamo

Bexar, Feb. 24th, 1836

To the People of Texas and All Americans in the World—

Fellow Citizens and Compatriots

I am besieged with a thousand or more of the Mexicans under Santa Anna. I have sustained a continual Bombardment and cannonade for 24 hours and have not lost a man. The enemy has demanded surrender at discretion, otherwise, the garrison is to be put to the sword, if the fort is taken. I have answered the demand with a cannon shot, and our Flag still waves proudly over the wall. I shall never surrender or retreat. Then I call on you in the name of Liberty, of patriotism, of everything dear to the American character, to come to our aid with all dispatch.

The enemy is receiving reinforcements daily and will no doubt increase to three or four thousand in four or five days. If this call is neglected I am determined to sustain myself as long as possible and die like a soldier who never forgets what is due his honor and that of his country…

VICTORY OR DEATH

William Barret Travis

Lt. Col. Comd’t

P.S. The Lord is on our side—when the enemy appeared in sight we had not three bushels of corn—We have since found in deserted houses 80-90 bushels & got into the walls 20 or 30 head of beeves.

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!”

COMMERCIAL

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COMMERCIAL

By Sharon Stevens

 

How do you write cute on a blank page?

I’m not talking about cuddly, kitty-cat cute, but the kind of cute that translates to Super Bowl cute! You know what I’m talking about, don’t you? How can anyone write the kind of cuteness that inspires someone else to create a thirty-second televised spot that is worth $4,000,000.00? What makes a normal human being able to turn a thought into something that can be further created into a mega-commercial? What makes moments, which can eventually be watched by many millions all over the world, the universe, for the millennium? And not only for just this one Sunday in particular, but for as long as cyberspace exists, bouncing all the way back and forth from every satellite in a Star Wars outer space.

What elevates a word so far up the media ladder it becomes an icon discussed and hashed, twittered, and treasured by anyone who has technology at their fingertips?

I can’t do it!

Oh sure, I can print the word C U T E. But when I write it, it’s just that, a word. And all the while someone else sets it to paper or gives it tangible meaning, well, it just doesn’t come out the same.

I know this, and so does everyone else who reads anything I write. I cannot take a single word and condense it down and make it come out “write.” Of course, I can’t take a million words and try to say the same things either.

How do they do it? What do they have that I don’t have? Of course they probably have a salary that gives them the freedom to do whatever they want, and a staff (how many staff?), and an unlimited budget. Incentives, how many incentives do you think they encounter in the run of a day. What cutesy offices do they have to keep the creative juices flowing? Do their secretaries hold all calls when the team is in the inspirational mode? Oh wait. That is so last century. What do they set their cell phones, I Pad, Blackberry’s, laptops, Mac’s or what have you to get them on the right track? Do they have windows to watch the skyline, or do they go out and watch a movie and munch popcorn to get them into the mood? I just can’t fathom! What’s the secret?

Someone has to write the scripts, the words, and the print. Someone has to dream the graphics, the colors, see the patterns in their heart and soul. And someone has to hear the music, not only the notes themselves, but how the lyrics combine together with the message. People spend their whole lives preparing for thirty seconds on air SEEN around the planet. And I’m not even talking half-time. Why couldn’t that be me?

I have my grandfather’s diary from World War I in France, and on January 28, 1919 he writes that he “Went down to the “Y”(YMCA) for entertainment first there was a good fine real picture and then a party of four Frenchmen: two men and two women entertained us with some high class singing. Some kind of a show that they charge $1.50 to $5.00 in some of the cities.”

Grandfather was a young man, and for the first and last time in his entire life he was millions of miles away from the family farm in East Texas. When he describes “high class singing” you can bet he meant HIGH CLASS so much more than what he wrote in his little notebook that he kept tucked into the pocket of his uniform. If they charged $1.50 to $5.00 a show, then you knew he recognized what a treat that was for not only him, but all the patriots in his unit that were in service to Uncle Sam ninety five years ago.

Because I have his diary and read the entries from the time he enlisted till the time he was discharged, I can read in between the lines and ascertain what kind of man he was, and what his interests were so many years ago.

With the Super Bowl commercials being so brief, someone has to know the audience and gauge the reaction of the world way before anything ever hits the airways. So what if four million dollars are spent on thirty seconds…how many millions are collected in the making of that one spot? What research is done within walls and outside the box from the years before all the while looking into the future, with focus groups that determine cuteness from ugly with a flicker of their eyelids, or a nod of their head, or a text on their hand held devices.

Cute just takes on a whole new meaning!

Oh how I wish I had that kind of talent! Sure I’d like to make a million dollars profit off of thirty seconds, but just as importantly (yea right), I would like to have millions look at my word “cute” and know what it meant and share my “cute” to friends, families, and neighbors, in every “Nook” and cranny all around the world and back. If just for once the majority could understand what I was trying to say and “share” accordingly.

And maybe then MY “cute” could become marketable. After all, there’s only room for ONE cute for every Super Bowl. Isn’t that write?

KEYNOTE

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KEYNOTE

 “A newspaper may be forgiven for lack of wisdom,

But never for lack of courage.” – Gene Howe

By Sharon Stevens

In memory of Don Teague

 

What an amazing day that was!

For starters we began the day by opening our doors to kids buying their college textbooks for the beginning of the spring semester for WTAMU. Next, I spoke with the University Study Club at the First United Bank about the life of Gene Howe, founder of the Amarillo Globe News. Before I returned to the Buffalo Bookstore I dropped off an article I had found for Natalie Bright, a fellow Wordsmith Six blogger, connecting with the story she was working on.

And then I received a call from our daughter, Andrea Keller, about the focus for her presentation this next week with, “Making Your Mark-Using Technology to Level the Playing Field.” She had been so excited to have been connecting with Peter Reynolds, who is the author of “The Dot” and founder of International Dot Day.

Also on this day I received the news of the tragic death of A. J. Swope and Melissa Flores. What pain to mar so many glorious moments!

If I was told I would have to divide up my day and choose what events, on this particular day that touched my life above all others I couldn’t do it. Each second, and every encounter made their mark on my heart and touched something very deep in my soul. Every woman in the University Study Club, past and present, had made their mark with their family within their community. Our college students buying textbooks represented the future of this generation into the next. Natalie Bright linked the legacy of writers far and wide. And even though I didn’t know of the life of Melissa Flores, I knew that A.J. had made his mark not only as a mentor, a husband, father, musician, and a friend, but that he was such a gifted man working hard with wind energy across the panhandle.

At our writing critique group recently the question was asked about the content of our blogs and what they should contain. We all threw out our thoughts and ideas about the focus of Wordsmith Six and how it pertained to writing. Each of us had different opinions, and each valued for their merit. This reminded me of the conversation I had with Andrea the night before I was to give my presentation for the study club. She wished me luck and her advice was to stay on topic and to focus on the subject at hand. She knew for me that was an impossible task, but she threw it out anyway. My fellow bloggers also knew full well the hurdles I faced each week as I tried to pull my thoughts together in a disciplined fashion. Craig Keel, bless his heart, set up our blog in the very beginning and keeps us up and running. He is helping all of us to make our mark.

Andrea will stand next week before fellow teachers imploring them to remember that, “As educators we have an important role in reminding students that they are important and even the smallest mark can make a difference in the world.”

As writers we are treasured for our flexibility. Our words are our marks, but more importantly they represent every connection we can link together. We realize we are not only putting words into the hands of the reader, but every moment of every day we are constantly sharing our imprints with those around us in whatever way we can. I personally feel my greatest gift is to find a quote, or an article and to pass it on to the person, without even knowing, who may need this thought to add to their own. I don’t do this to complete their project, but hopefully to enrich the story itself. I know that my purpose in life is not to be the keynote speaker, but to share with those who will speak FOR not only me, but for those who have no voice. And also for those who have the courage to stand and share my voice with others. What a gift!

We will each grieve in our own way for A.J. Swope from now until the time we see him again. I wish his friends and family peace as they move forward in a life empty of his spirit here on earth. His life cannot be measured in a focused way of only one topic.

I know that future generations will come across his mark and remember. And that is what I wish for us all.

Please remember to attend the Panhandle Professional Writers bi-monthly meeting at the Amarillo Senior Citizens, January 19, 2013. Linda Castillo will be speaking on “Writing the Thriller” for the morning session, and Jennifer Archer’s topic will be “Channeling Your Inner Teen, Is Writing for the YA Market For Me?” These two women are our own and are marking their mark in a big way. This will be a fantastic event to celebrate writing in the panhandle!! Every writer, no matter the genre, will be able to glean something that will help in their writing.