October





A few days ago, I posted something on facebook, something like, "I wish October would stick around just a bit longer." Not only is it one the most beautiful months of the year, but it's the most inspiring and reflective months for me as well.

Last evening I was perched on a hay bale, witnessing two beautiful young people pledge their commitment to one another in the middle of a corn field. The sun was just setting, a chill was invading the air, solar lanterns were beginning to glow. It was a beautiful night and a beautiful, albeit short, ceremony. The bride came riding up in a hay wagon (45 minutes late but well, that's her style), the groom stood pink-cheeked and patient. I thought back to the forced poses of my wedding photos, the awkward stance, the crooked bouquets, and I watched how naturally this bride and groom reacted to one another. It was a pleasant sight. If I was to ever marry again (highly doubt it), I'd like the same type of ceremony, the same naturalness, the same lack of pretense.

Just some October thoughts. The leaves here aren't turning as quickly as usual, maybe because we've had so much rain this summer, but they're beginning to tip red and gold. I noticed the backyard was damp this morning when I took Ella out, My marigolds are thriving again in the cool damp air, but my sage and coneflowers are done for the season.  It's time to put some things away, time to pull up impatiens and put my clay pots back in the garage.

October goes by too quickly for me. I've just gotten back into my cooking groove - I found some beautiful gala apples at the farmers market the last few times I've gone and some tasty apple crisps have come out of that. A bowl squats on my kitchen counter filled with acorn squash, winter squash, fresh garlic and sweet potatoes. Yesterday, I concocted a chicken pot pie, with carrots and onions  also from the farmers market.  October's kind of an organic time for me, as they say, farm to table.

So, I'm looking forward to bonfires, soups and stews, wool sweaters and heavy socks. I'm  thinking of red and gold plaids scarves, carving pumpkins, football and cider. And maybe I'll get the chance to perch on a hay bale at some point again before month's end.

What's your favorite month or time of the year and why?

Certainty

 

As writers, we step out into the unknown every day. Each time we sit down, fingers poised over the keyboard, ready to type out our missive, one foot and then the other steps off the well known path and we free fall. We free fall into a place less certain.

Someone said today, about a life changing move he made some time ago, that had he known at the time how much bravery it took to make that move and then, after realizing he was really there, to work that move, he possibly wouldn't have done it at all. He would have remained at his 8-5 job, made babies with his wife, looked forward to a retirement someday, but he would have never have known what it was like to step off that cliff and let himself experience a place less certain.

We overvalue certainty is the conclusion I am coming to. I had to stop and think about that concept for awhile, not just in my writing life but in my personal life as well. I was fairly certain at one time that my parents would live forever, that nothing would change and they would always be in my life as the head of our family. In February 2011, as I stood helplessly by, watching my mother slip away, that concept was shattered. I was no longer certain. Then, in January 2012, my beloved lab and pal of 12 and a half years, Sunny, left me after suffering a stroke, and again, certainty was ripped out of my hands.  Here in 2013, I'm standing on the brink of a coming circumstance that is going to change my life for the rest of my life, and I find myself in a place that is not certain. Changes and decisions I am going to have to make are not going to be comfortable for me and some of the things I was certain of are now off the table.

We become dependent on the routine of our lives, the rising and setting of the sun, the turning of the seasons, foolishly, we believe that nothing is ever really going to affect us.

But as writers, the circumstances that do affect us are part and parcel of what we write and how we write and why we write. Probably we should never be in an absolute certain place because, wouldn't we become complacent? Self-satisfied? Could we miss an opportunity for growth if not for being shaken up from time to time? With change comes growth, and growth is the raw element of all things, isn't it?

Growing as a writer is of paramount importance. Personal growth is important. How do you find the two concepts mesh? How does it affect your writing?


 

Welcome, Autumn

She's back.

I caught a glimpse of Lady Autumn this morning, passing through a doorway. The claret hem of her skirt barely brushed the floor, leaving behind pale yellow winter squash, deep orange pumpkins, tied herbs, green brussel sprout stalks, and sweet potatoes rattling across the floor, as she strides forward in search of the Mistress of Summer.  I sneak behind into the forest, chasing after her. Of all the Ladies, she is my favorite. I want to hear  her farewell song to the Mistress, but I can only catch the barest of glimpses of auburn hair tumbling down her back. Lady Autumn's skirt is changing color now, to golden yellow. She has reclaimed her territory, it is now her turn to watch the world spin and take care of the days and nights. I watch her pour a glass of something rich and sumptuous from the sideboard that seems to sprout from a tree, and as she raises her glass, she smiles, maybe at me?

It's raining now but she doesn't seem to care. Her laughter is carried on the wind, and as she opens her arms and spins in her now forest green dress, she seems to be lifted up into the rain and then gently lowered onto a bed generously thick with comforters and down pillows. She turns her white face toward me, oblivious of the rain dotting her face and clothing.

"Surround yourself with beautiful thing, my dear, useful things, the things you love," she says although her mouth doesn't move. "The winter is coming and you will have need of them."

I sat straight up in bed, on that cusp of just asleep and fully awake, feeling as if I'd lost something tangible. Rolling my hands around my bed, I felt something odd. I wrapped my hand around it. Pulling the object to me, I was most surprised to find a crystal wine glass with a drop of red at the bottom and one crimson colored maple leaf stuck to the inside of the glass.

A gift left for me from the Lady? Perhaps.

Or maybe it was just a lovely dream.

The Next Leg of the Journey

I'm sitting here tonight, absolutely stunned at the good fortune that's befallen me. So happy and blessed I am! And so very, very grateful to the powers that be and to Rick East, the author of the book we've published together.

Several months ago, Rick approached me and said he had a story to tell but he didn't quite know how to tell it. He asked for my help; first, as an editor but then later, he came back and informed me he thought I'd be happier as a co-author. I jumped at the chance, astonished that anyone would choose me to be their co-author!

The journey since has been wonderful. I've learned a bit more about the publishing industry that I knew before. I've made a new friend in Rick East, the author. Quite honestly, I have had a blast working on his story and I'd do it again in a heartbeat. From first draft to second draft to galleys, to cover art, to press releases, it's been a blur of hard work and exhilaration!

I gave this book my heart. I wanted to give it the voice it required with the emotion his story needed. Rick was fantastic to work with, I could not have asked for a better author to stand beside.
And so, today, at exactly noon, Rick texted me and said, "Our book is on Amazon. I'm so excited!" I remember gasping audibly in the hallway at work before shutting my phone off and then turning it back on again to read his text again! Seriously? Are you kidding me right now? We are on Amazon?

Back in my office, I clicked my mouse impatiently and waited, seemingly for an eternity, for Amazon to pop up. My heart began to race. It was hard to breathe. I struggled finding the book on the site and then, I typed my own name in and there it was. "A Glimpse of Glory: My Journey to Heaven and Back."

I was mesmerized; couldn't stop looking at it.  Reality began wisping its finger around my face. I'm a real-life bona fide published author. It's what I've wanted, what I've dreamed of, all my life, since I was a little girl. I clicked off Amazon and tried to go back to work. Not possible. I clicked back on the site. I have a book on Amazon.  Reality began digging me in the ribs, pretty hard. It's really happening.

Oh, all those months of writing and working and talking about press releases and book covers, it seems now I didn't realize back when we were putting this all together, that what I was staring at on my computer screen today would become a reality. I've read all about nearly-published authors whose deals fell through at the last minute, leaving them disappointed and desolate. Maybe the publishing house closed. Maybe the agent pulled out. There are a thousand "maybes." I pulled out my camera phone and took a picture of the Amazon page with my name and book cover on it.

And of course, then I had to text people.

Driving home, I found myself awestruck and so very grateful for all that I've been given the past several months. My hope is that Rick realize his vision for this book, because if that happens, then the book's done what it was supposed to do. And you'll have to read the book to see what it was meant to do.

I'd be happy for any of you reading this to order "A Glimpse of Glory: My Journey to Heaven and Back" on Amazon. Happy and pleased. Here is a link to Amazon: www.Amazon.com. Look for Rick East or for me or for "A Glimpse of Glory: My Journey to Heaven and Back."

Thank you.

Market Day

It's Market Day in Springfield and the sun is already high in the sky. Customers throng the aisles and booths lining up, waiting for the 8:00 am bell before they can purchase their breads and peppers, flowers and tomatoes. I pass a solitary guitarist perched on a stool, his glass tip jar at his feet. Throngs of people pass through, undaunted by the heat and humidity. The market is filled with incessant babble, some of it Indian, or Latino, all mixed sounds reminding me of our common root - food.

A local bread vendor, Katie Made, and I get into a discussion about Anadama bread, which I used to make for my kids when they were young. I haven't made that bread in years and I wonder why. When your kids are little, you think you don't have time to make homemade goods but you do anyway, or I did. Now my kids are grown and one is away and I still don't make homemade bread. It was a great pleasure of mine too. At any rate, the vendor and me laugh at the origin of the name, Anadama, and I pick up a loaf of something I've never tried before - Van Staden Mosbolletjies. She tells me it's a south African bread and has a hint of licorice. She says that people resist it at first because of the licorice flavor but once they try it, they come back and buy two loaves. A new bread, a new taste adventure.

My favorite pepper growers are here now. I spy glistening green peppers as big as a man's fist on their table and I quickly buy four, along with some onions. I see stuffed green peppers on my table in the near future.

I run into a vendor, someone I knew in Mountain Grove, and he tells me again that I sure look like my daddy. I guess it depends on who you talk to because I've heard that I look exactly like my dad and I've been told I look exactly like my mother. Either way, you can tell who I belong to.

A quart of blackberries (for a desert I'll have to find the recipe for), two pounds of green beans and a bouquet of pink and white gladiolas later,  I'm ready to head for the car and my water bottle I left there accidentally.

I love coming to the market. It's a reminder of who we all are on this planet and what we all want, which is to be loved, nurtured and accepted. And it's part of the writing life, I believe, to surround yourself with the things you love and appreciate  and allow those things to nurture your soul.

What do you think? Do you agree?

Marketing - Who Knew?

Yesterday, I attended the Ozark Romance Authors meeting. Local author, Beth Carter, was the speaker and her topic was Marketing.

It seems that, as writers, we shy away from marketing and Beth talked about this in her presentation. We're a bit reticent to even say, "I wrote a book," fearing maybe that eyes will roll and we'll be dismissed as "that dreamy type." Now, we all see the television ads from lawyers, or lawyer/surgeons, window installers, roofers, insect removal services, the best chef on the planet, etc. We take all that in and we don't think another thing about it as far as relating it to writing. In fact, Beth mentioned yesterday that in her 20-year career in marketing, working for a bank and then for a hospital, that she never saw that type of reticence in any field, except for the writing field. She's worked with and for doctors, bankers, attorneys, all types of professionals who just love to promote themselves and their work and are not shy about doing so at all.

She said something yesterday that put it all in perspective for me. Beth said, "Marketing is not bragging." And she made us all say it three times. Marketing is not bragging.

It's a simple statement.

At the same time, it's astounding.

And, it's empowering.

Beth talked about "targeted marketing." In other words, know your target audience, and market to that audience specifically. A Facebook post leads to a Twitter tweet, a blogpost to a website, leads to a mass email list, leads to asking for reviews on your book, leads to a booth at a county festival, on and on, the list is endless. Probably the most important advice from Beth here is to think outside the bookstores.

We, as writers, have so many opportunities to market ourselves and gain credibility to get the attention of an editor or agent. The internet, technology, it's amazing and it puts us anywhere, everywhere, for that matter.

Marketing is critical for the writer. And remember what Beth said, "Marketing is not bragging."

At the end of her presentation, Beth had all of us sign a Marketing Pledge, which I thought was a really clever and unique way to end the presentation. I learned a lot from Beth yesterday and I'm going to put what I learned to use as I continue on this writing road.

How about you? How are you marketing your work?

All quotes, advice and references given remain the property of Beth Carter. Beth graciously gave me permission to restate her words, "Marketing is not bragging," as well as using other pieces of her presentation.

Surprise, surprise, surprise!!!

I'm struggling with the title of this post; don't want to come off as a know-it-all, a fabulous someone writer who's ARRIVED, and therefore, no longer needs the unwashed masses, because truly, seriously, someone previously unknown to me, handed me a break.

And I never expected it. And I'm not sure I even deserve it.

Oh my gosh, no, I didn't see this thing coming.

So, to cut to the chase,  a friend suggested to his friend who was writing a book at the time, that he should contact me to edit or give the manuscript a look over or whatever. My expectations were, when I was contacted, that I would be the unnamed, unknown editor, happily, I would stay behind the scenes and just help this manuscript on to be published and no big deal to me. I was happy and pleased to help. I was content to stay in the background and allow the real writer, the person this experience happened to, to write the book.

But. Isn't life funny with the "buts?" I often say, "We plan and God laughs." Because He does!!! No joke.

So, I worked the first 25 or so pages, sent it back to the author and he responded and said, "Would you consider co-authoring this book?" My first reaction was, "No, no, this is your story, no, I cannot take any credit for this." We worked awhile longer together and he again said, "Would you consider being a co-author?" I again resisted. But, he persisted; he told me to give it some thought, and eventually, I gave in. And here is my news, I am going to be the co-author of someone's book.

I never thought I would work a project such as this. He is a Christian author; I am not. Now, I do understand the thoughts and feelings he puts out there in his manuscript and I can go with it. I understand being the last kid picked for kickball. I understand being held as different by my peers. I understand being excluded because of religious perceptions, and so knowing that kind of hurt, I can write about it. Maybe this book is cathartic for the both of us. The writing is coming to me easily; there must be a reason for that.

The photo I posted is beautiful, nebulous, everything about writing that writing is meant to be. It's an example of what I'm feeling right now; the bursting of excitement, the thrill of doing what I want to do with  my life; the dimensions and color of hope and expectation; but it's the feeling of certainty too, of fulfilling a purpose, my life's purpose.

Whereever this book thing came from, it came from a providence that I am only beginning to get to know. I am astounded, eternally grateful, and very, very pleased. I so miss my mother right now; because I would have told her about this; we would have talked for a very long time, and she would be so happy, so pleased, about it. My mother would have been so excited and happy for me. I hope somewhere, somehow, she knows and I'm hoping she's jumping up and down in gloryland or wherever she is.

Tell me about your experience with writing and becoming acknowledged, and achieving your writing goals.