Tuesday Chatter-Becoming Real

I managed to skip last Friday's Rambles. Sorry. I was away from home all day at a Christmas Fair, and managing to sell a book or two. I meant to come home and post a Ramble, but was just too tired. I was glad I did set up at the Fair, though. Saw and talked to some people I hadn't seen for a while - a long while for some of them. Saw another vendor who remembered me from several years back at another event. Saw many beautiful hand-crafted items. Reminded me again how sadly lacking I am in the talent of producing pretties. So happy there are those who excel in that department. I try to produce words that interest people, though. The column below chronicles my journey to being willing to expose those words to any who cared to read them. I am thankful for those who take that chance.

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My mother would tell a story about my baby days when I must have been around eighteen months. We would visit a neighbor or relative's house. After a few hours my toddler self would apparently grow tired and try to reach my cap and coat, crying to go home. Did my feelings of being 'out of step' with my surroundings most of the time begin there? Through the years I always felt more secure at home with my family. Which to me is a good thing. We all need somewhere to feel safe.
    My two-years-older sister was a fearful child. She was very reluctant to attend school alone when she started first grade while we lived in Alabama. By then I had become more social, so the next fall when she began second grade, though I was only five, mother enrolled me in first grade. I doubt I had much understanding about being younger than my classmates then. But that changed by the end of the school year when we moved and my Georgia first grade teacher early promoted me to second grade. So when I entered third grade I was only six years old, effectively a little more than two years younger than all my classmates.
    My family moved a lot. I'd attended eight or so different schools by the time I entered high school. Added to that, my dad being a sharecropper and mill worker, we were always among the poor children. In actual fact, since this was during the country's recovery from what is called 'the great depression', most of the student body at the schools came from poor families.
    I expect being so much younger than my school contemporaries was the main reason I identified with Henry David Thoreau's, "If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears the beat of a different drummer." Later in life I resisted feeling I needed to be like everyone else. I'm afraid I often escaped actual life through reading, when I wanted to write. Only as an older adult was I brave enough to seek out other writers, reveal my 'real' self, through my own writing, in my books, this column.

Friday Rambles-No Slam Dunk

So here it is November 1. NaNoWriMo time again. National Novel Writing Month. Six or seven years ago I began this crazy thing I'd read about. Write a book in thirty days? Oh? It didn't have to be print ready? Just get 50000 words written down? If you succeeded, you'd be designated a winner. The 'book' could be revised, polished afterward. With my obsessive, compulsive, perfectionist writing nature, could I do that? But I gave it a whirl. The column below was written about my 2nd or 3rd NaNo year. And I did it. And have kept doing it ever since. Only one of those years I didn't get the number of words done. Can't remember the circumstances that interfered. Never mind, the others are either in print or awaiting their turn at revision, polishing. Some longer than others. Maybe this year won't be a slam dunk either, but I'll give it the ol' college try.

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   Readers not interested in the writing process might wish to tune out for the next couple of weeks. Not that I want to lose readers, of course! But that's where my head is right now. I'm trying to fit another major writing project into my schedule.
   November has been designated as National Novel Writing Month for several years, as I think I've mentioned here once or twice. I'd never participated though until last year. Since I enjoyed it and was able to reach my goal I figured I'd try again. This year is a totally different experience. For various reasons I haven't been able to just shove everything aside and concentrate on THE NOVEL.
   I have the general outline of it. But actually getting the words written is turning into a struggle. Uninterrupted time to pull them out of my brain and onto the page has been hard to come by. Writing all night might be an option. But the other inhabitants of my home are worse night owls than me. And I do get too tired to imagine the next big trouble to throw at my protagonist.
   During the daytime there's the dog to walk, eating, minimal personal hygiene, laundry and housework. More regularly scheduled meetings have seemed to fall into this month, too, and extra workshops and groups that I had committed to attend.
   All this does not even take into account the urge to procrastinate that is common to all writers. Any normally disliked task sings a siren song that we can’t resist.
   I hate to rake leaves. My neighbors' yards are mostly free of the crisp evidence of fall's arrival. The two trees in my yard are finally bereft of leaves. But a combination of guilt if wind sent my leaves to neighboring lawns, brain weariness and procrastination sent me to the shed for my rake and a couple of hours outside. Leaving aside the fact that exercise is good for me, I know that procrastination was the main motivator for my burst of activity.
   So here I am, fingers on keyboard again. After I send this piece to the editor, I'll be back wrestling with THE NOVEL. Since more hindrances lie in wait for me before month's end, this NaNoWriMo is obviously not going to be a slam dunk.

More Than One Dream - Part 2

The acceptance of my story encouraged me to keep trying. I wrote essays and stories, submitted them, read books about writing. and attended my first writing conference. That conference helped me begin to think of myself as a writer, which even that first publication didn’t do.

I had bought my first personal computer when my company gave employees the opportunity. I was sure it would make writing easier and it did. I upgraded to a better computer and then the Internet opened up the cornucopia of instant knowledge and communication. Internet magazines, ezines, sprouted. A few accepted my stories, and then another print magazine accepted one.

I wanted very much to be among other ‘real’ writers, even though I still didn’t feel comfortable calling myself a writer. But something – God? – kept pushing me until I found a group and found the courage to go to a meeting. At first I didn’t tell them about my writing acceptances, the magazines were not mass circulation, who would care? Finally I did tell them and was amazed that they were impressed.

I learned of another larger writing group and joined it. The leader of the group and a few members had published books. I loved being associated with them and they actually accepted me as a writer. Several of us attended a writing conference out-of-state and the workshops galvanized me.

The first novel I had begun years before languished in a file folder. I began thinking of writing a book about my family, a memoir. But if I did how would I get it printed? Most vanity/self-publishing companies were very expensive. Eventually through the Internet I found a new self-publishing website that would format and publish one’s book and charged no upfront fees. Authors could buy as many or few of their books as they could afford instead of thousands.

Does the fulfillment of a dream always feel like you’re still dreaming? Did Joseph feel like that when he was finally released from his prison dungeon and made second in command under Pharaoh? Even when I held the first copy of Eight Miles of Muddy Road in my hand it felt as unreal as that first magazine publication. Later I found another company where my computer skills enabled me to have my books printed even more economically and have published two more.
(update)As of last count, 12 paperbacks and ebooks. Several more in pipeline.)

 

More Than One Dream - part 1

This post is the first part of a longer piece I wrote about my life and dreams. It was too long for one of my newspaper columns and I chose not to publish it in three parts at that time. I'm going to do so today and Friday this week and the last part next Tuesday. Just in case someone's interest is strong enough to want to read all of it! Most of the events in it have appeared in one form or another in my memoir, Eight Miles of Muddy Road or in other columns and posts.

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    I always knew God gives dreams. The Bible is full of examples. In the Old Testament there is Abraham, told in a dream to leave his home country; his son, Joseph, dreaming his brothers would bow down to him; and the dream God gave Pharaoh and Joseph’s fellow prisoners. Jacob, who dreamed of a ladder to heaven. In the New Testament as well we find Joseph, Mary’s husband and his dream of an angel telling him to take his family to Egypt and then again when they could return.

     Are dreams from God today? If He gives us dreams while we sleep, are the dreams and longings in our hearts when we’re awake also from Him, too? I think the answer to both is – yes. Not all, of course. Sometimes it might be the cheese and pepperoni on the pizza we ate late in the evening. If we’re granted one dream, is that it? Or will God bless us with others? In my own life the answer to that question is also ‘yes.’

     A mother, grandmother and great grandmother now and can look back at a life filled with dream fulfillments, even though at the time I might not have fully realized it. We humans are so prone to attribute the realization of our deeply held desires as due to good luck, hard work, or just the way things worked out.

     I grew up dirt poor in rural Georgia. That I would ever fly in one of the airplanes I saw high above the cotton field was not a possibility even in my constant daydreams. But fifty years later my younger sister and I flew across the ocean as part of a group which toured Israel and also spent two nights in Rome, Italy. Forced early retirement from the job God provided twenty years earlier and a generous severance pay package made the dream trip possible.

     I dreamed that I’d grow up, strike out on my own, marry, become a mother. Time passed, I met a young man from Tennessee, we married, and God blessed us with a beautiful daughter. Amid the ups and downs of marriage, family, and job I always knew God was the Giver of answers to my dreams. But I didn’t consciously turn my dreams over to Him. And I had several that I never, ever mentioned to anybody.

     My older sister had dropped out of school and worked to help provide for our family of ten. I longed for college after high school graduation, but instead I found a job and also contributed to the family. Many years later came an opportunity for college, though I finished the last class needed for my degree after retirement.

     My husband loved to tell of my reaction when he told friends I’d earned my college ‘diploma.’

     I’d quickly correct him. “It’s a college degree.” God is indeed the fulfiller of dreams, but not necessarily on our timetable.

     I learned to read when I started school at five years old and immediately fell in love with books. That love only grew stronger as I grew up. Sometimes a fleeting thought that I might write something myself that would be published crept into my mind. No, too far-fetched. What did I have to say that anyone would want to publish? Or read.

     Over the years the thoughts of writing didn’t go away and I finally bought a used Underwood typewriter. I sent out a few things. Which were rejected. I worked on a novel, still unfinished.

     Sometime before my trip to Israel I had submitted a story to a small magazine. When we returned to the States we landed in Atlanta and I called my husband in Tennessee.

     We chatted a few minutes and then he told me, “A woman called, an editor. Something about wanting to publish your story.”

     It didn’t actually seem real to me until a couple of months later I held the magazine in my hand, my name and story title listed in the table of contents.

(next-part 2)

Friday Rambles - Favorite subject, I guess.

Still here, still writing, perhaps not as diligently as I should, but can't seem to put it down. What would I do? Much as I love, love, love to read, eyes and mind do get tired after a steady diet of just reading. At least mine do. Of course, some time must be devoted to keeping one's living and writing space habitable. I don't enjoy seeing a sink full of dirty dishes for days. Or even just two days. My house is far from immaculate, but clean enough for me to accept. And I'm the one who lives here. Occasional cleaning, straightening up is a good antidote to hours in a chair at the computer. So I guess it's a win-win situation to have to do it. But lately I seem to be hearing the siren call of my muse, Yardley, more often. I hope it continues.

In the column below, written several years ago, I mention books that have helped me. Most libraries probably shelve some of them, or can get them through inter-library loan. If you're a writer, or aspiring writer, try one or two, you might like them.

Writer or Ditch Digger

Since I profess to be a writer I suppose I should occasionally write about the subject of writing. I don’t delude myself into thinking anything I might say could ever approach the value of Stephen King’s “On Writing” or Noah Lukeman’s “The First Five Pages” or Anne LaMott’s “Bird by Bird.” If anyone who aspires to write for public consumption is not familiar with those books, a used copy is usually available somewhere for not much money. These are only three of dozens of books on the craft of writing to be found and most have some value.

In my opinion another book, now a classic, is even better than the three named in the previous paragraph, “Make Your Words Work” by Gary Provost. I believe it and years of Writers Digest, the magazine, helped me achieve publication. Another classic that I had wanted for a long time before I actually ordered it is “Goal, Motivation & Conflict” by Debra Dixon. I heartily wished I had not delayed buying it.

Aside from books on writing, just reading books-novels, biographies, whatever one prefers-is also invaluable to improve writing skill. I love writing, but a voracious reader since the age of five, reading was my first love. A person who has read hundreds, maybe thousands, of books just absorbs the way words, sentences, paragraphs sing together in harmony, to use a musical comparison.

Of course, reading and reading books on writing, no matter how good, is no substitute for the actual practice of writing. There is universal truth in the hoary joke’s answer given the person who asked how to get to Carnegie Hall, ‘practice, practice, practice’. Writers achieve mastery of the written word by writing. Exercises on description, snippits of dialogue, just as a violinist or pianist learns to make beautiful music by practicing scales.

Good writing is hard work, but, alas, holds no guarantee of monetary gain. Only a small percentage of writers make a living through writing. One who doesn’t love writing for itself might be better served to find a shovel and a place that needs a ditch.

Tuesday Chatter-What's in a Name?

I'll be taking the rest of this week and most of next off, so my grand plan to post to my blogs at least twice a week is already stumbling. But I'll pick up it again. This Tuesday Chatter is a rumination on names. My own journey to the proper name for my writing endeavors is ongoing. Currently, I'm searching for just the right name for the third in my Cameron Locke, PI series. The search for names for the first two pales in comparison to this one. But I'm not ready to publish it quite yet, so I still have a little time.

 What's In a Name?

Juliet: "What's in a name? That which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet." Romeo and Juliet (II, ii, 1-2)

What shall we name the baby? Or in the case of a writer, what shall I name this essay, story, poem, novel? Sometimes we start with a name. Myself, not usually. Almost always the title grows out of the piece of writing.

Most of the stories and books, finished and partials, that are on my computer right now have names. But I'm thinking of putting a group of these Life Slices columns into book form. What to call it? Of course, Life Slices will be part of it, but I need a sub-title. Perhaps Life Slices: Ramblings of a Southern Writer. Nah, don't want it that long. Life Slices: Through Thick and Thin. Maybe. Or not. And it can't be too personal as many deal with other subjects than my own life though most impinge in some form. Comments or suggestions welcome.

The two novels I've finished have gone through numerous title changes. When I find a title I think fits, I know it. But getting there is often a lengthy process. I'll have sheets of paper with scribbled titles all around my workplace. Scraps of files on my computer hard drive with possible names,. first one moving to the top as first choice then another.

When my daughter was born a name was already decided on, if it was a girl. Can't remember if we had chosen a boy name. I suppose it was a given he would have been named for his father. That was before ultra sound pictures informed prospective parents of the gender of their baby almost before they knew a child was in their future. It was also the time when mothers were routinely knocked out with drugs before the birth. So as I was waking up in the recovery room a nurse asked me what we would name our daughter. I reeled off a name we had never even discussed, knowing as I did that it was not correct! Reason enough to avoid being drugged when having a baby!

Since I've hardly begun choosing the columns to include, I have time to choose just the right title. I hope.

Halloween - next?

Not too many kids this year, as usual. Some wore really cute costumes. Lot of temporary pink, purple temp hair colors! I was happy to see adults, sometimes both parents, with them. All were very polite and thanked me for the candy. There were no smirky attitudes as I've seen sometimes in years past. Very refreshing.
The next few weeks will probably fly by, as usual. The time between Halloween, then Thanksgiving, then Christmas, goes so fast. I'll try to concentrate on each day as it comes, maybe that will slow the passage of time a little.
But one day I can't help looking forward to is December 13. That's the release date my publisher, The Wild Rose Press, has announced for the new edition of my novel, Disguise for Death!!

Next Cam Locke novel

Some readers have been kind enough to let me know they enjoyed my first PI Cameron Locke novel, Requiem for a Party Girl. The next in the series, Delusion for a Lonely Girl, will be released by Oconee Spirit Press in September 2016. In this second book Cam finds herself caught up in two missing person cases, one male and one female. The male is the boyfriend of a very young woman whose body is later found on a creek bank by a hiker. The missing female is the daughter of Cam's former boss and the ex-wife of her (maybe) boyfriend, Detective Shac Lane. Before the case, which involves drug smuggling and human trafficking, is solved Cam and someone she has come to regard as a friend almost lose their lives.

Not Really Gone!

Can't believe I haven't posted since last December. I guess I hibernated during that long cold winter. And now we seem to have jumped right into a long hot summer.
We did have a little bit of spring. Thankfully, the two outdoor booksignings I've done for the new book, were during those not so hot days in May.
Trail Days in Damscus, Virginia was a fun event I'd never done before. The energy level was over the top, of the tent! Talked to a bunch of hikers who hike the Appalachian Trail. Some were through-hikers, who hike all of the over 2,000 miles of the AT. Others call themselves 'section hikers' who hike the trail in sections, as time and money allow. All I spoke with were extremely nice.
The other booksigning I did, also in May and also the first time I'd participated, was Plumb Alley Day in Abingdon, Virginia. This is a unique event. A four block section of Plumb Alley is blocked off for a one day unusual kind of 'yard sale' for whatever you have to sell. It's sponsored and administered by the Abingdon Kiwanis Club to benefit children.
Another exciting first for me was my interview on WJHL TV's  Daytime Tricities broadcast last week. Ann was an easy-to-talk-to interviewer and I thoroughly enjoyed my brief appearance.
I have a couple more events scheduled and others in the works. Stay tuned.

Sylvia's 2014 Retrospective

By the time this column is read, if indeed it is, another Christmas Day will have passed. Children will be playing with or breaking new toys. Thumbs of slightly older youngsters, of all ages, will be flying over keys of new smart phones. The strange spelling of their texts appearing on screens of their friends' phones faster than Santa disappearing over the rooftops.

The countdown will have begun to the beginning of another year. I think we all hope that 2015 will bring better things, though few may expect that hope to manifest. Television networks used to broadcast retrospectives of important events of the year just past on New Year's Eve. Whether they still do or not I won't know since I cut the cord of cable and satellite TV reception. Surprisingly, after having lived almost my whole (long) life with television as a constant, I have missed it very little.

So I'll do my own retrospective. In many ways this has been a sad year for me. The deaths of friends sounded a refrain of my own mortality. Death of a friend's husband reminded me that the coming January will mark four years since I lost my own husband of over fifty years. And just before Thanksgiving the loss of my youngest brother's wife at a much too young age was a blow.

 A close family. A member of my immediate family went through the trauma endemic to these times, divorce. The disruption has been hard on my adored great grandsons, even with all working to create a smooth transition. I trust that the power of unconditional love will heal any damage to their precious spirits. This is the gift we yearn to find during the Christmas season. Would that we all found much of that healing to take as our 'shield and buckler' in the New Year.

But the year brought good things to me also. A successful year as leader of a writing group. The continued presence of many long-time great friends. A long-sought book contract with a traditional publisher. These are the things I hope to build on and make 2015 a good year. May it be so for all who might read this.

Get It In Gear

As the title says, I'm trying to 'get it in gear' (again) as far as my writing goes. Got a volume of my newspaper columns published, Life Slices, a Medley of Musings After Three Score and More. It's available in print or ebook versions.

Produced a video trailer for one of the two mystery novels I'll publish in April, Disguise for Death,  a Royce Thorne Mystery. The trailer is up on YouTube. Check it out here. Trying to get other publicity going for the books. Stay tuned.

Have not forgotten the two other writing help books I was going to talk about. I will get to them. Another by a favorite author will be out in May, Story Trumps Structure, by Steven James. Anxious to get my hands on a copy.