Austin has a certain draw to it especially if you have ever lived there. It's a unique town. We've spent a couple of weekends there lately and it hasn't lost any of its charm. We visited some familiar places like The Broken Spoke, no changes there for sure. And who would want any to a place that Willie and many other well known country singers frequented before they were famous and ocassionally still show up unannounced sometimes. The Midnight Rodeo hadn't changed much either. Gumbos still has great food along with so many other places.
We decided to head to 6th Street Halloween night. It's always interesting to walk along 6th Street, there is always an array of people there every weekend, but Halloween brings people out in droves. We watched people parade back and forth in their costumes, some very simple and others very eleborate. Thank goodness they can block off the street. The weather was absolutely gorgeous and just cool enough to keep people in their weighty costumes from being uncomfortable, but not so cold that the ones dressed in skimpy outfits had to find jackets.
It was fun to frequent old haunts and to discover a few new ones.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Monday, October 26, 2009
No Place Like Home
I went to a small family reunion last weekend. We had a wonderful time visiting and eating lots of great food. Seeing Aunts and cousins that we hadn't seen in awhile, brought back memories of much larger reunions. Now relatives are scattered to the four corners of the earth and that makes it difficult to even get a small group together.
There were only six of us that made the trip to Geneva, Neb. A small town with some really awesome residents. Especially a dear aunt and her family. Of the six that visited, three were Texas residents, one from Colorado, one from Mississippi and one from Louisiana. The ones that couldn't make it, were sorely missed. We use to have several gatherings a year, and there would be dozens of people with lots of chatter and laughter. With everyone spread around the country, now we set dates and hope a few will manage to be there. And the meetings are always filled with lots of food, laughter, photos and stories galore.
But it made me wishful for days gone by. When I was a kid when the fourth of July came, our house would be brimming with people. Relatives from everyone converged on our house. Kids slept on pallets throughout the house or occasionally camped outside in makeshift tents. It was great fun. Now everyone would get a hotel instead. But in doing that, you'd miss the closeness we experienced packed together. We had great cook outs with big spreads of food. Late in the day, the ice cream freezers would be filled with a rich sugary concoction. A few of the children would be chosen to sit on top of them when the rich cream began to thicken in order to keep the freezer in place as the handle was cranked. To be chosen was considered a great honor. You'd sit there in anticipation of the sweet treat you'd eventually indulge in. Peach, strawberry or vanilla ice cream and if you were lucky, you could have all three.
After dessert, the adults would bring out the dominoes, while we kids entertained ourselves with playing tag, hide and seek, kick the can or playing cards. As it became dusk, we'd chase lightning bugs around the yard. Later, we'd take blankets onto the lawn and watch the stars magically appear in the giant, black sky. Then one by one kids would disappear, and go find a place to sleep for the evening. I couldn't understand how anyone could sleep when there were still people awake.
I'd get a cup of coffee, actually the cup held only a fourth coffee--the rest was cream. I'd watch the adults play dominoes. This game was taken very seriously so children were not allowed to play, but on a rare occasion my mom or dad would let me place their chose domino on the table. I felt grown up sipping my warm, coffee flavored cream amidst the adults. I loved listening to them as they poked fun at each other, and related fascinating stories of their childhood. It made me feel connected and safe.
Christmas Eve was another time relatives converged on our house, but not as many. All the folks from Arkansas only came on the fourth, but it was still a full house. We'd eat lots of rich food and fantastic desserts. Nothing was store bought back then. At some point the furniture would be moved against the walls. Music would begin one of my aunt and uncles would start to dance. Everyone loved to watch them, they had really smooth and elegant moves. It was our small version of "Dancing With The Stars."
Then one by one another couple would join them. It was inevitable that my mom would do her black bottom dance. She loved to dance and she would laugh the most joyful laugh while dancing. Later she would always be asked to do it again and then everyone would insist she do the Charleston. This she was really good at. She'd start slow then rev it up. All the while laughing like a young girl. No one could out dance her.
If I close my eyes, I can still hear the laughter of everyone as it filled the entire house, and smell the mixed aromas of pecan pie and my aunt's 'out of this world,' peanut butter cake. It was a joyous time. We not only celebrated Christmas, but also the joy of being together as a family.
I was raised with the majority of my relatives living within a thirty mile radius of me. Some lived across the pasture even. I saw my grandmothers, cousins, aunts and uncles on a regular basis. It gave me a since of belonging. I left that safe cocoon because I thought I needed to see what was outside that small, safe world.
I've traveled a lot and seen beautiful places and met wonderful people, but nothing ever felt like that place where everyone knew my name, my parents, my siblings, my entire family and where they lived. It's kinda like in the Wizard of Oz. Dorothy went in search for something better, but discovered through a series of events that there is no place like home.
There were only six of us that made the trip to Geneva, Neb. A small town with some really awesome residents. Especially a dear aunt and her family. Of the six that visited, three were Texas residents, one from Colorado, one from Mississippi and one from Louisiana. The ones that couldn't make it, were sorely missed. We use to have several gatherings a year, and there would be dozens of people with lots of chatter and laughter. With everyone spread around the country, now we set dates and hope a few will manage to be there. And the meetings are always filled with lots of food, laughter, photos and stories galore.
But it made me wishful for days gone by. When I was a kid when the fourth of July came, our house would be brimming with people. Relatives from everyone converged on our house. Kids slept on pallets throughout the house or occasionally camped outside in makeshift tents. It was great fun. Now everyone would get a hotel instead. But in doing that, you'd miss the closeness we experienced packed together. We had great cook outs with big spreads of food. Late in the day, the ice cream freezers would be filled with a rich sugary concoction. A few of the children would be chosen to sit on top of them when the rich cream began to thicken in order to keep the freezer in place as the handle was cranked. To be chosen was considered a great honor. You'd sit there in anticipation of the sweet treat you'd eventually indulge in. Peach, strawberry or vanilla ice cream and if you were lucky, you could have all three.
After dessert, the adults would bring out the dominoes, while we kids entertained ourselves with playing tag, hide and seek, kick the can or playing cards. As it became dusk, we'd chase lightning bugs around the yard. Later, we'd take blankets onto the lawn and watch the stars magically appear in the giant, black sky. Then one by one kids would disappear, and go find a place to sleep for the evening. I couldn't understand how anyone could sleep when there were still people awake.
I'd get a cup of coffee, actually the cup held only a fourth coffee--the rest was cream. I'd watch the adults play dominoes. This game was taken very seriously so children were not allowed to play, but on a rare occasion my mom or dad would let me place their chose domino on the table. I felt grown up sipping my warm, coffee flavored cream amidst the adults. I loved listening to them as they poked fun at each other, and related fascinating stories of their childhood. It made me feel connected and safe.
Christmas Eve was another time relatives converged on our house, but not as many. All the folks from Arkansas only came on the fourth, but it was still a full house. We'd eat lots of rich food and fantastic desserts. Nothing was store bought back then. At some point the furniture would be moved against the walls. Music would begin one of my aunt and uncles would start to dance. Everyone loved to watch them, they had really smooth and elegant moves. It was our small version of "Dancing With The Stars."
Then one by one another couple would join them. It was inevitable that my mom would do her black bottom dance. She loved to dance and she would laugh the most joyful laugh while dancing. Later she would always be asked to do it again and then everyone would insist she do the Charleston. This she was really good at. She'd start slow then rev it up. All the while laughing like a young girl. No one could out dance her.
If I close my eyes, I can still hear the laughter of everyone as it filled the entire house, and smell the mixed aromas of pecan pie and my aunt's 'out of this world,' peanut butter cake. It was a joyous time. We not only celebrated Christmas, but also the joy of being together as a family.
I was raised with the majority of my relatives living within a thirty mile radius of me. Some lived across the pasture even. I saw my grandmothers, cousins, aunts and uncles on a regular basis. It gave me a since of belonging. I left that safe cocoon because I thought I needed to see what was outside that small, safe world.
I've traveled a lot and seen beautiful places and met wonderful people, but nothing ever felt like that place where everyone knew my name, my parents, my siblings, my entire family and where they lived. It's kinda like in the Wizard of Oz. Dorothy went in search for something better, but discovered through a series of events that there is no place like home.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Lights Out
All the electricity went off tonight after the storm. We hunted around for candles and matches. It was kinda neat to sit quietly by candle light but we have a house full of people coming for a party tomorrow so we had to do all the preparation of the food by candle light.
Then we discussed what we would do if the electricity didn't come back on. Would we still have the party, and decided we would, that we could sit out on the patio and enjoy the moonlight. We even figured out how we could get everything cooked.
Just as we were getting ready for bed, the lights came back on. Kudos to the electric company crew. Even though it might have been fun to sit around the firepit in the moonlight. It is so great to flip a switch and instantly have light.
We take so much for granted when it is always there. Need to let my better half know how much I appreciate him.
Then we discussed what we would do if the electricity didn't come back on. Would we still have the party, and decided we would, that we could sit out on the patio and enjoy the moonlight. We even figured out how we could get everything cooked.
Just as we were getting ready for bed, the lights came back on. Kudos to the electric company crew. Even though it might have been fun to sit around the firepit in the moonlight. It is so great to flip a switch and instantly have light.
We take so much for granted when it is always there. Need to let my better half know how much I appreciate him.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Writing conference
Attended a writing conference in Bedford, it was enlighting and nice to meet other writers. They had several writers there last night as a panel to answer questions. It's always interesting to hear how each broke into the business and to learn their writing techniques.
Need to get back busy writing. We have been so busy with book signings for The Third Threat and planning events that I haven't had much time to write. Trail of Blood will be going to the editor soon, my best critic is reading it right now. Will be interested in hearing what he has to say. Hopefully there won't be too many changes to make. Then we will try to get it off to the publisher soon after that.
Need to get back busy writing. We have been so busy with book signings for The Third Threat and planning events that I haven't had much time to write. Trail of Blood will be going to the editor soon, my best critic is reading it right now. Will be interested in hearing what he has to say. Hopefully there won't be too many changes to make. Then we will try to get it off to the publisher soon after that.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Discovery
Writing in secret is difficult because it becomes addictive and takes up a lot of time. But I managed to keep it from everyone until I was almost finished with The Third Threat. Then one day, my youngest was home for a visit and used my computer. At dinner he asked about the story I was writing. Of course everyone wanted to know what he was talking about.
It was the same child that asked me many years ago to play instead of write. He is now one of my biggest fans and motivators.
After reading my story, several people encouraged me to get it published. I was hesitant. I love classics, and I compared my story to those books and felt it fell short. I became disillusioned and considered shelving my dream again.
When I mentioned this to someone that inquired about what I was doing to get published, they asked how many classics I had read lately. When I admitted that I hadn't read any, they asked why I read the books that I do. I told them because they're entertaining. They said that was the main reason most people read, and that my story and characters were very entertaining, and that's why I should publish the story. That advice and the prodding of my family gave me the desire to move forward and turn my story into a book.
It was the same child that asked me many years ago to play instead of write. He is now one of my biggest fans and motivators.
After reading my story, several people encouraged me to get it published. I was hesitant. I love classics, and I compared my story to those books and felt it fell short. I became disillusioned and considered shelving my dream again.
When I mentioned this to someone that inquired about what I was doing to get published, they asked how many classics I had read lately. When I admitted that I hadn't read any, they asked why I read the books that I do. I told them because they're entertaining. They said that was the main reason most people read, and that my story and characters were very entertaining, and that's why I should publish the story. That advice and the prodding of my family gave me the desire to move forward and turn my story into a book.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Red River
For those of you unfamiliar with Red River, it's a country western dance place. We've gone there a few times over the years. We didn't actually start country dancing until about twelve years ago. It's an experience unlike any other that you will attempt, and you have to be in fairly good physical condition to boot scoot.
Unlike the postage size dance floors in most clubs, country western dancing requires a rather large dance floor. To country dance you have to be in constant motion as you revolve in a circle around the floor. Almost all clubs offer dance lessons, they don't teach you to dance to the beat of the music but certain steps with a lot of twirling, the pace is faster than the old style of boot scooting, especially the twirlers. The couples in which the lady is constantly spinning. They even move faster slow dancing now. Which takes away part of the reason to slow dance--to enjoy the music and closeness. We dance free style even though we've had a couple of lessons. We like to go with the flow of the music.
Generally we dance most of the time we're there, but this time we'd eaten a large meal beforehand, and unfortunately it all went to our feet. My usually fleet footed husband couldn't get the beat going, so we sat out a lot of dances and people watched. (Even with fast dances, you're pretty much connected with your partner when country western dancing. But my feet were like lead too.)
I've often told people that you shouldn't marry anyone unless you've slow danced with them. There is something about moving together to the rhythm of a romantic song that brings out things in people that nothing else can. A certain connection.
But after watching people dance the other night, I'm not so sure now. Some couples moved so smoothly around the floor, that you figured that they had been together for ages. (Ray says these people have gone liquid.) But come the next song, they were with someone else. Then there were those that bumped into practically every other couple on the floor. But they had huge smiles the entire time. One twirled and laughed so hard they danced right off the dance floor. Then bounced right back up and kept dancing, laughing that much harder. Yeah, some of it could have been the alcohol, but the look they shared and the way they held each other indicated that it was more. They honestly seemed to enjoy being with each other.
Ray and I have had people come to our table or us, and tell us how inspired they are watching us together. They never say we're terrific dancers, they usually say that the we looked like we were having a blast together, and that's it apparent how much we care about each other. Most ask how long we've been married and are usually shocked to find out we've been together since we were six. (Not really. hehe) They generally say they hope to be fortunate enough to find someone they can be as happy with as we are. I don't take this compliment lightly. It's one we've gotten quite often over the years, especially when we dance together. To be honest, we love to dance together, and we enjoy doing things together, so I guess it comes out while we're on the dance floor.
Maybe I don't need to rethink the dancing together thing before you marry. It's a great way to have fun and enjoy being in each other's arms. The song that states 'Life's like a dance--you learn as you go' is so true. Maybe this is why we like to dance to the beat of the music instead of a rigid set of steps.
You're not given a handbook at birth or marriage. You bump into a lot of things along the way, and depending on how you handle the bumps sometimes dictates how you handle life. We've learned that sometimes the bumps help us appreciate our lives more, and occasionally sends in a direction we really need to go.
So maybe you do need to dance together to see how each other reacts to life.
Unlike the postage size dance floors in most clubs, country western dancing requires a rather large dance floor. To country dance you have to be in constant motion as you revolve in a circle around the floor. Almost all clubs offer dance lessons, they don't teach you to dance to the beat of the music but certain steps with a lot of twirling, the pace is faster than the old style of boot scooting, especially the twirlers. The couples in which the lady is constantly spinning. They even move faster slow dancing now. Which takes away part of the reason to slow dance--to enjoy the music and closeness. We dance free style even though we've had a couple of lessons. We like to go with the flow of the music.
Generally we dance most of the time we're there, but this time we'd eaten a large meal beforehand, and unfortunately it all went to our feet. My usually fleet footed husband couldn't get the beat going, so we sat out a lot of dances and people watched. (Even with fast dances, you're pretty much connected with your partner when country western dancing. But my feet were like lead too.)
I've often told people that you shouldn't marry anyone unless you've slow danced with them. There is something about moving together to the rhythm of a romantic song that brings out things in people that nothing else can. A certain connection.
But after watching people dance the other night, I'm not so sure now. Some couples moved so smoothly around the floor, that you figured that they had been together for ages. (Ray says these people have gone liquid.) But come the next song, they were with someone else. Then there were those that bumped into practically every other couple on the floor. But they had huge smiles the entire time. One twirled and laughed so hard they danced right off the dance floor. Then bounced right back up and kept dancing, laughing that much harder. Yeah, some of it could have been the alcohol, but the look they shared and the way they held each other indicated that it was more. They honestly seemed to enjoy being with each other.
Ray and I have had people come to our table or us, and tell us how inspired they are watching us together. They never say we're terrific dancers, they usually say that the we looked like we were having a blast together, and that's it apparent how much we care about each other. Most ask how long we've been married and are usually shocked to find out we've been together since we were six. (Not really. hehe) They generally say they hope to be fortunate enough to find someone they can be as happy with as we are. I don't take this compliment lightly. It's one we've gotten quite often over the years, especially when we dance together. To be honest, we love to dance together, and we enjoy doing things together, so I guess it comes out while we're on the dance floor.
Maybe I don't need to rethink the dancing together thing before you marry. It's a great way to have fun and enjoy being in each other's arms. The song that states 'Life's like a dance--you learn as you go' is so true. Maybe this is why we like to dance to the beat of the music instead of a rigid set of steps.
You're not given a handbook at birth or marriage. You bump into a lot of things along the way, and depending on how you handle the bumps sometimes dictates how you handle life. We've learned that sometimes the bumps help us appreciate our lives more, and occasionally sends in a direction we really need to go.
So maybe you do need to dance together to see how each other reacts to life.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Freedom to Dream
One of the great things about doing signings is meeting new people. It's always interesting to hear their views. Another is having friends that are so gracious in arranging events. There isn't anyway to adequately let them know how much that means to me. I need to send special thanks to Kristy, Gina, Martha, Carolyn, Brian and all the others that have given me suggestions and helped with events.
And I wouldn't be able to do any of this without the help and encouragement of my side kick, my dear sweet husband, Ray. He loads and unloads event stuff. He helps set it up and take it down and he never grumbles. Thanks sweetheart for giving me the best gift ever---the freedom to dream.
And I wouldn't be able to do any of this without the help and encouragement of my side kick, my dear sweet husband, Ray. He loads and unloads event stuff. He helps set it up and take it down and he never grumbles. Thanks sweetheart for giving me the best gift ever---the freedom to dream.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Signing at Delta Airlines
Really enjoyed doing a signing at Delta Airlines office at DFW. Delta has a great group of people working for them and they made the day interesting and fun. The day was made even better because I got to spend time with Martha, a long time friend that I don't see often. Martha was the one that arranged the signing. She worked for Delta for many years, and just retired this past spring. She was nice enough to spend the day with me. In between visits with her many friends at Delta, we got a chance to catch up on each other's life. I know she's busy planning her daughter, Renee's wedding in September so I truly appreciate her taking time to help with this event.
Monday, August 3, 2009
Encouraged to Pursue Passion
A few years ago, I told my husband about a dream in which an ordinary citizen overhears what she believes to be a threat to America. She was unsure of all that had been said because most of the conversation was in Arabic. The tone of the conversation, and the fact they argued about jihad, convinced her that she should contact authorities. After she reported the incident, she was informed the FBI had a serum that would enable her to recall the entire overheard conversation even in a language she didn't speak. Soon the terrorists discover her identity and threaten to kill her. When the FBI request her assistance, she steps up and risks everything to help stop the attack.
My husband encouraged me, as always, to write down my dream. This time he was a little more insistent. At this point, a lot had changed in our lives and I actually had time to write. His encouargement reignited my desire to write. So I secretly began to write The Third Threat. (It actually went through several titles before I settled on Threat.)
Before revealing to anyone that I started to write Threat, I wanted to see if I had the discipline to write a novel. I decided if I was ever going to pursue my passion I needed to take that first step now. I had no plans to tell anyone of this endeavor until I was finished.
But life seldom happens like you plan.
My husband encouraged me, as always, to write down my dream. This time he was a little more insistent. At this point, a lot had changed in our lives and I actually had time to write. His encouargement reignited my desire to write. So I secretly began to write The Third Threat. (It actually went through several titles before I settled on Threat.)
Before revealing to anyone that I started to write Threat, I wanted to see if I had the discipline to write a novel. I decided if I was ever going to pursue my passion I needed to take that first step now. I had no plans to tell anyone of this endeavor until I was finished.
But life seldom happens like you plan.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Dreams
I've always had vivid dreams. Since an early age I've had the ability to redream the same dream until it ended the way I wanted. No, I don't recall all my dreams, especially all the details, but some get seared into my mind. This process has been a big aide in developing my stories.
When I told my family and friends about my dreams, they encouraged me to write a book about them. Sometimes I would write a few chapters, and then get distracted by everyday duties. Always planning to get back to it someday.
But with time stretched between husband, three children, ailng family members, job, community, church and endless children activities, there wasn't much time or energy leftover at the end of the day. In between what free time I had, I squeezed in accounting classes. Not a small feat considering how much homework is required for those classes. At the time with us operating our own business, an accounting degree seemed more important than my passion for writing.
But as I stated before, my concept of writing was devoting hours to it at a time. To be honest, that is still the way I prefer to write, but life is still hectic. So I devote at least a few hours a day to writing, and it's surprising how much you can accomplish in short periods of time.
What I want to do is encourage people to devote whatever time they can to their passion, don't keep putting it off thinking tomorrow will be less hectic, thinking life will be easier at some point. Life is full of surprises and it doesn't get slower or easier with age. You have to make time to pursue your dreams. It will change your attitude tremendously and your life.
When I told my family and friends about my dreams, they encouraged me to write a book about them. Sometimes I would write a few chapters, and then get distracted by everyday duties. Always planning to get back to it someday.
But with time stretched between husband, three children, ailng family members, job, community, church and endless children activities, there wasn't much time or energy leftover at the end of the day. In between what free time I had, I squeezed in accounting classes. Not a small feat considering how much homework is required for those classes. At the time with us operating our own business, an accounting degree seemed more important than my passion for writing.
But as I stated before, my concept of writing was devoting hours to it at a time. To be honest, that is still the way I prefer to write, but life is still hectic. So I devote at least a few hours a day to writing, and it's surprising how much you can accomplish in short periods of time.
What I want to do is encourage people to devote whatever time they can to their passion, don't keep putting it off thinking tomorrow will be less hectic, thinking life will be easier at some point. Life is full of surprises and it doesn't get slower or easier with age. You have to make time to pursue your dreams. It will change your attitude tremendously and your life.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Ole Earl's New Home
Thought you might be interested in Ole Earl's new place of residence.
It was difficult for Ray to load Earl and the deer heads into the truck bed for the journey. It probably took him longer to load them, than it did to hunt them. The animals eyed us fearfully as they were loaded. Perhaps they thought they were being taken to the dump to be abandoned. Sure they'll be delighted and relieved when they arrive at their new destination.
Ray acted as if he were parting with old friends and in a way he was. He teared up a few times as he gently placed them onto the truck. When he was finished, I left them alone so he could say his goodbyes.
It was sad to see Ole Earl start his journey to a new home, but I'm sure he'll be happier hanging on someone's wall than on the floor of the garage staring at the ceiling. Just didn't seem proper for him to be there. No this noble steed deserved a place of dignity, and he will have his place of honor--adorning the wall of a new hunting lodge that a friend is opening in central Texas. And as Earl has done for over 10 years, he will keep watch over the herd of deer heads that rested above our fireplace.
I wasn't certain Ray would be able to hand them over when he arrived there. And he couldn't hand them over to just anyone, but he knew Kenny understood about Ole Earl and the deers, and that he would treat them with the dignity they deserve.
Ray retained visitation rights, and if we ever again have a place to put Ole Earl and his friends, he will retain full custody. Until then, I'm sure we'll make a trek or two to central Texas lodge to pay our respects. And to our friends, if you're ever down that way, I'm sure Ole Earl will be glad to see you too.
Friday, July 24, 2009
A Love Affair with Writing
During my teens, I kept a journal of my thoughts, feelings, fears and dreams. It helped me cope with life and things that were out of my control. I would write about a problem, and then look at it from the viewpoint of someone else. It removed the emotional turmoil that clutters your thinking process. It made it easier to decide what to do and easier to deal with the issue.
As my love for reading grew, so did my desire to write. Keeping a journal helped organize my thoughts and develop discipline with my writing. I was always fascinated to watch a blank, white sheet of paper fill with a story that didn't exist moments earlier. I worked diligently to improve my writing skills with classes and continual writing. People encouraged me to publish my stories. But along the way, life happens and it gets hectic. You convince yourself that you don't have time to devote to writing and that you'll get back to it one day.
At one point I thought it would be less time consuming to write children's literature. (Not sure what planet I was on at the time.) One day while I plugged away at a story, my youngest came to me. He took my hand and said, "Mommy, come keep me company." His way of asking , "Come play with me." I looked at the paper in the typewriter (Back in the olden days, we didn't have computers, a real bummer.) and then looked at his sweet face. I thought I can write about life or live it, and at the moment my child wanted me to live it. So once again I tucked my dream away.
But I always picked it back up, I had no choice. I wish I'd had this book back then on writing habits that I bought several years ago. It states that if you only write one page a day, that at the end of a year, you will have a novel. It was a freeing revelation. My thought before that was you needed to be secluded, and write your story from beginning to end to be a true writer. That's rarely possible. I've since learned that you can call a paragraph or two a day progress.
If I read that bit of wisdom when I was younger, I wouldn't have postponed pursuing my passion, so don't use lack of time as an excuse not to write, because anything you can write a day, keeps your imagination and creativity alive, along with your spirit.
The whole writing process can become additive. I lose track of the time. The page disappears and the movie in my mind begins to unfold, the story goes in the direction I want to take it, or more accurately, in the direction my characters want to take it. I write because it has become as much a part of me as breathing. I write because I love to.
As my love for reading grew, so did my desire to write. Keeping a journal helped organize my thoughts and develop discipline with my writing. I was always fascinated to watch a blank, white sheet of paper fill with a story that didn't exist moments earlier. I worked diligently to improve my writing skills with classes and continual writing. People encouraged me to publish my stories. But along the way, life happens and it gets hectic. You convince yourself that you don't have time to devote to writing and that you'll get back to it one day.
At one point I thought it would be less time consuming to write children's literature. (Not sure what planet I was on at the time.) One day while I plugged away at a story, my youngest came to me. He took my hand and said, "Mommy, come keep me company." His way of asking , "Come play with me." I looked at the paper in the typewriter (Back in the olden days, we didn't have computers, a real bummer.) and then looked at his sweet face. I thought I can write about life or live it, and at the moment my child wanted me to live it. So once again I tucked my dream away.
But I always picked it back up, I had no choice. I wish I'd had this book back then on writing habits that I bought several years ago. It states that if you only write one page a day, that at the end of a year, you will have a novel. It was a freeing revelation. My thought before that was you needed to be secluded, and write your story from beginning to end to be a true writer. That's rarely possible. I've since learned that you can call a paragraph or two a day progress.
If I read that bit of wisdom when I was younger, I wouldn't have postponed pursuing my passion, so don't use lack of time as an excuse not to write, because anything you can write a day, keeps your imagination and creativity alive, along with your spirit.
The whole writing process can become additive. I lose track of the time. The page disappears and the movie in my mind begins to unfold, the story goes in the direction I want to take it, or more accurately, in the direction my characters want to take it. I write because it has become as much a part of me as breathing. I write because I love to.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Art of Yarn Spinning
Storytelling is an art, especially verbal storytelling. During my grandmother's childhood, it was the main source of entertainment. Now there are all types of things to keep us amused, but there is still something extraordinary about a person who can captivate us with their real life and made up stories. If you reflect on your friends and acquaintances, I'm sure you have one or two in the group. They're the person that when they speak, everyone listens. They can make a trip to the grocery store sound magical. I've been fortunate to know several people with this remarkable talent, and I never tire of listening to their narratives. My grandmother referred to these colorful tellers of tales as yarn spinners.
I've loved to read and write since an early age. But before I could do either, I tried my hand at yarn spinning, I entertained classmates at recess, and my dad at home with my stories. My dad was my biggest fan. When I told him about the village of tiny people that lived in our garden, he hung onto every word. Only the glimmer in his eyes gave a hint that he didn't buy it as real. Every day, he would ask me for an update of the tiny villagers' adventures. I'm thankful that he never called my stories foolish, and that he took the time to listen.
When I was older, I entertained my nieces and nephews with ghost stories. It was a sure way to keep the six of them from running amuck. It was a trick my grandmother taught me. She was an exceptional yarn spinner. When she had a house full of grandchildren, sometimes as many as fifteen of us, she kept us spellbound with story after story about ghosts. We never ventured far from her side, or got into any mischief at her house.
When my children were young, I made up bedtime stories, stories only told when washing their hair and at bath time. Some were with them as the main character and they would choose what the story was to be about.
Even though I enjoyed the process of making up stories, I never felt I was a true yarn spinner. I was drawn to a different form of storytelling--writing.
I believe the early facination with telling stories allowed my imagination to grow. I'm forever grateful to my parents encouragement to use my imagination and to dream. Children need to be encouraged to soar.
I've loved to read and write since an early age. But before I could do either, I tried my hand at yarn spinning, I entertained classmates at recess, and my dad at home with my stories. My dad was my biggest fan. When I told him about the village of tiny people that lived in our garden, he hung onto every word. Only the glimmer in his eyes gave a hint that he didn't buy it as real. Every day, he would ask me for an update of the tiny villagers' adventures. I'm thankful that he never called my stories foolish, and that he took the time to listen.
When I was older, I entertained my nieces and nephews with ghost stories. It was a sure way to keep the six of them from running amuck. It was a trick my grandmother taught me. She was an exceptional yarn spinner. When she had a house full of grandchildren, sometimes as many as fifteen of us, she kept us spellbound with story after story about ghosts. We never ventured far from her side, or got into any mischief at her house.
When my children were young, I made up bedtime stories, stories only told when washing their hair and at bath time. Some were with them as the main character and they would choose what the story was to be about.
Even though I enjoyed the process of making up stories, I never felt I was a true yarn spinner. I was drawn to a different form of storytelling--writing.
I believe the early facination with telling stories allowed my imagination to grow. I'm forever grateful to my parents encouragement to use my imagination and to dream. Children need to be encouraged to soar.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Continued----Third Time is the Charm
On Monday I call the salesman at the machine place back. I explain how happy I am about the 24/7 service which doesn't include holidays. He's baffled that no instructions were in the box, especially no phone number for the tech people. By the way, they have a different phone number, and they were on call all weekend.
Okay, after a few more pleasantries, I call the tech group and attempt to download the application a dozen times. The problem I'm told is that I need an analog phone line and that I should find a neighbor that has one. In over hundred degree weather, I have no plans of knocking on doors. Besides I figured everyone in my neighborhood had the same phone line as me. After three hours I ask why they can't send me a machine with the application already downloaded.
To my surprise, I'm told that they normally send the machine 'ready to go.' They promise to ship another machine and it'll arrive by Wednesday. Well, Wednesday came and went, and no machine.
I call my friend back, we're rather chummy at this point. He promised to overnight one. On Friday morning the machine arrived. I'm excited. It has instructions and even extra rolls of paper. I call the tech group, because I figure I need a code to activate it, even though the instructions don't indicate I need one.
After an hour, the thing still wouldn't work. I asked for another tech person, but they insisted no one else would be able to help either. I become more persistent. They agree to transfer me and put me hold. Music is piped over the line. The same bad song plays over and over, grinding on my nerves. For someone that is not in a happy place, this will not improve their mood.
I call back and explain my situation to a new tech person. I was nice, really I was. Well, she immediately puts me hold and I'm forced to listen to the same awful music. After five minutes, I call my sales friend. I'm told he has stepped out, but will call me as soon as he returns.
I wait and wait. At this point my usually low blood pressure has escalated to the boiling point. It's after three o'clock and I have a big event, and really need my machine. I pour myself a glass of wine. It's early to be drinking, but decided it wasn't worth having a coronary over.
I take a deep breath, and a big sip of wine and chill. After an hour, I decide I've had enough. Either they get the dang thing to work, or I would demand a refund. So I call the sales person again. and low and behold he answered.
After a lengthy discussion, he nabs a tech guy, and the three of us spend another hour trying to activate the machine, with no results. I'm told I need to move somewhere that I will get better reception. I told them the place that I was sitting had the best reception in the house, and if it didn't work there, it wouldn't work anywhere that I would be selling books.
I ask about the life time warranty again. I'm assured if the machine is dropped or anything is split on it, that they will replace it. I ask if that would be true if I threw it at someone. They laughed nervously and continued their spill.
The tech guy says, "Maybe if we put in a different code, it'll work." So he goes off in search of the code. It seems 'the code' is kept in a secret location. I envisioned him becoming Indiana Jones and going through the Temple of Doom to retrieve the code. Thank goodness he didn't play that awful music, or he may have wished he'd endured the perils of the Temple of Doom instead of what I would have done to him.
Can you believe that once the new code was entered, it worked? He says, "That was simple." He thinks three days on the phone is simple!!!! I wanted to say, "That's why I called in the first place--to get a code, and why has it taken all day to do this?" But I didn't--I thanked him and hugged my new machine that actually worked.
Okay, after a few more pleasantries, I call the tech group and attempt to download the application a dozen times. The problem I'm told is that I need an analog phone line and that I should find a neighbor that has one. In over hundred degree weather, I have no plans of knocking on doors. Besides I figured everyone in my neighborhood had the same phone line as me. After three hours I ask why they can't send me a machine with the application already downloaded.
To my surprise, I'm told that they normally send the machine 'ready to go.' They promise to ship another machine and it'll arrive by Wednesday. Well, Wednesday came and went, and no machine.
I call my friend back, we're rather chummy at this point. He promised to overnight one. On Friday morning the machine arrived. I'm excited. It has instructions and even extra rolls of paper. I call the tech group, because I figure I need a code to activate it, even though the instructions don't indicate I need one.
After an hour, the thing still wouldn't work. I asked for another tech person, but they insisted no one else would be able to help either. I become more persistent. They agree to transfer me and put me hold. Music is piped over the line. The same bad song plays over and over, grinding on my nerves. For someone that is not in a happy place, this will not improve their mood.
I call back and explain my situation to a new tech person. I was nice, really I was. Well, she immediately puts me hold and I'm forced to listen to the same awful music. After five minutes, I call my sales friend. I'm told he has stepped out, but will call me as soon as he returns.
I wait and wait. At this point my usually low blood pressure has escalated to the boiling point. It's after three o'clock and I have a big event, and really need my machine. I pour myself a glass of wine. It's early to be drinking, but decided it wasn't worth having a coronary over.
I take a deep breath, and a big sip of wine and chill. After an hour, I decide I've had enough. Either they get the dang thing to work, or I would demand a refund. So I call the sales person again. and low and behold he answered.
After a lengthy discussion, he nabs a tech guy, and the three of us spend another hour trying to activate the machine, with no results. I'm told I need to move somewhere that I will get better reception. I told them the place that I was sitting had the best reception in the house, and if it didn't work there, it wouldn't work anywhere that I would be selling books.
I ask about the life time warranty again. I'm assured if the machine is dropped or anything is split on it, that they will replace it. I ask if that would be true if I threw it at someone. They laughed nervously and continued their spill.
The tech guy says, "Maybe if we put in a different code, it'll work." So he goes off in search of the code. It seems 'the code' is kept in a secret location. I envisioned him becoming Indiana Jones and going through the Temple of Doom to retrieve the code. Thank goodness he didn't play that awful music, or he may have wished he'd endured the perils of the Temple of Doom instead of what I would have done to him.
Can you believe that once the new code was entered, it worked? He says, "That was simple." He thinks three days on the phone is simple!!!! I wanted to say, "That's why I called in the first place--to get a code, and why has it taken all day to do this?" But I didn't--I thanked him and hugged my new machine that actually worked.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
The Simple, Easy to Activate Credit Card Machine
When you peddle books out of the back of your car, and that's actually what I do when going from one event to another, you need a wireless credit card machine. Simple enough, right?
I called a few companies that were kind enough to send me their brochures. I was amazed at the spectrum of prices for the same machine. Even more amazed at all the varying costs per transaction. Every time I thought I was ready to close the deal, they would say, "Oh, by the way." Then I would learn of additional charges and stiplulations. A process that I thought would take thirty minutes turned into a three day ordeal.
So now I feel I'm an expert on this machine, and I choose a company. When I receive the contract, (beware of these--mine was about ten pages of fine print.) it mentions being penalized for going over my maximum limit. I was aware of a minimum, but no one mentioned a maximum. After dodging the question for ten minutes, the guy finally says it'll cost me 5% of every dollar over my credit lmit. I put in for a credit increase.
To say I wasn't happy about the new information is putting it mildly. I thought I'd asked every question that could be asked. Why wasn't I informed of this earlier? He mentions something about them being at risk. He starts to explain, but at this point I tune him out.
You see, I needed the dang machine by Friday, and it's Wednesday afternoon. He had told me earlier if the order was placed by two that I would receive it by Friday. It's a quarter until two. All I can think about, is will he be finished with his story in time to place the order?
Well, I did get the machine Friday, but not until after 5PM. We had an event at 6PM. We hurriedly opened the box. One lonely paper lay on top of the machine that read, "DO NOT ATTEMPT TO USE UNTIL BATTERY IS COMPLETELY CHARGED." Underneath in small print stated it would take twelve hours to do so. No problem we would just activate it the next day.
There were no phone numbers in the box so the next day I called the only number I had. I got an answering service. I ask why there is no one to help me activate the machine since I'm suppose to have 24/7 help. I'm told they are closed for the 4th of July. I asked, "If you have 24/7 service, aren't holidays part of 24/7?" They ignored the comment and gave me another number. It turns out to be Lance's answering machine, whoever Lance is, doesn't ever call me back.
We're off again without the credit card machine, armed with credit card release forms. Right, like how many people will fill out a form with indepth information of their credit card, and by the way, you have to leave it with us. But we promise to shred it once it's processed. Didn't get many takers. Can't imagine why.
I called a few companies that were kind enough to send me their brochures. I was amazed at the spectrum of prices for the same machine. Even more amazed at all the varying costs per transaction. Every time I thought I was ready to close the deal, they would say, "Oh, by the way." Then I would learn of additional charges and stiplulations. A process that I thought would take thirty minutes turned into a three day ordeal.
So now I feel I'm an expert on this machine, and I choose a company. When I receive the contract, (beware of these--mine was about ten pages of fine print.) it mentions being penalized for going over my maximum limit. I was aware of a minimum, but no one mentioned a maximum. After dodging the question for ten minutes, the guy finally says it'll cost me 5% of every dollar over my credit lmit. I put in for a credit increase.
To say I wasn't happy about the new information is putting it mildly. I thought I'd asked every question that could be asked. Why wasn't I informed of this earlier? He mentions something about them being at risk. He starts to explain, but at this point I tune him out.
You see, I needed the dang machine by Friday, and it's Wednesday afternoon. He had told me earlier if the order was placed by two that I would receive it by Friday. It's a quarter until two. All I can think about, is will he be finished with his story in time to place the order?
Well, I did get the machine Friday, but not until after 5PM. We had an event at 6PM. We hurriedly opened the box. One lonely paper lay on top of the machine that read, "DO NOT ATTEMPT TO USE UNTIL BATTERY IS COMPLETELY CHARGED." Underneath in small print stated it would take twelve hours to do so. No problem we would just activate it the next day.
There were no phone numbers in the box so the next day I called the only number I had. I got an answering service. I ask why there is no one to help me activate the machine since I'm suppose to have 24/7 help. I'm told they are closed for the 4th of July. I asked, "If you have 24/7 service, aren't holidays part of 24/7?" They ignored the comment and gave me another number. It turns out to be Lance's answering machine, whoever Lance is, doesn't ever call me back.
We're off again without the credit card machine, armed with credit card release forms. Right, like how many people will fill out a form with indepth information of their credit card, and by the way, you have to leave it with us. But we promise to shred it once it's processed. Didn't get many takers. Can't imagine why.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Better Second Time Around
My second event went way better than the first. We still had lively discussions about "What would you do if you overheard a threat?" but it made the evening interesting and got people discussing the book. And I even remembered what it was about this time.
Thanks to dear friends who stopped by to wish us well, the evening was enjoyable and a success. Everyone we met was so friendly and in the process of the evening we made some new friends.
If you get a chance, go to downtown McKinney and visit Landon Winery. It's a great place and the people there are so nice. And the wine is really good. We definitely plan to return.
Ole Earl
Today was a monumental day. We moved ole Earl, the elk, from his lofty spot in our den. He didn't come down easily, in fact he put up quite a fight.
My husband, Ray, scampered up an extension ladder like a mountain goat to around 19 feet above the floor, while I held the shaky thing steady. Ray connected two vices to the beam above ole Earl and let down rope. He wrapped one end around a column across the room and handed me the end. He tied the other to the leg of the pool table. To make circumstances more complicated, the nail that held Earl was bent. Ray wrestled with Earl for over an hour, but ole Earl clung to the wall, staring at us like we'd lost our minds. It was obvious he wouldn't give up his spot without a fight. Who could blame him? He'd hung there for over 18 years. All that time, his noble head and gentle eyes looked down on everyone that entered the house.
But so prospective buyers wouldn't freak out over dead animals on the wall, we had to remove Earl, along with the deer heads in our home. (Fun having your home on the market.)
Ray made so many trips up the shaky extension ladder that at one point I thought blasting ole Earl with a shot gun might be the best means to loosen his hold on the wall. Before Ray freed Earl, he told me that he didn't know how much Earl weighed, so I needed to brace myself. I clung to the rope and envisioned being yanked from the floor and dangling in mid air along side Earl.
Ray pried him from the wall and Earl swung free, I was relieved to find my feet still planted firmly to the floor. But another dilemma loomed over head. Earl swayed back and forth and twirled around. His gigantic antlers lunged toward Ray on the ladder. I feared Ray would be gored by those massive antlers. But as usual Ray persevered, and wrestled Earl gently to the floor. His ingenuity never ceases to amaze me. Really wish we had taken pictures or better a video, but all hands were busy holding onto precious Earl and the rope.
It's sad to not see Earl in his rightful place, but we have no plans to put him back. We will hold a quiet vigil as we place Earl in the garage until we can find him another home. We will make a toast in his honor as we pay respect to this beautiful, noble creature that kept watch over our home for the past 18 years. So long Earl, we'll miss you.
My husband, Ray, scampered up an extension ladder like a mountain goat to around 19 feet above the floor, while I held the shaky thing steady. Ray connected two vices to the beam above ole Earl and let down rope. He wrapped one end around a column across the room and handed me the end. He tied the other to the leg of the pool table. To make circumstances more complicated, the nail that held Earl was bent. Ray wrestled with Earl for over an hour, but ole Earl clung to the wall, staring at us like we'd lost our minds. It was obvious he wouldn't give up his spot without a fight. Who could blame him? He'd hung there for over 18 years. All that time, his noble head and gentle eyes looked down on everyone that entered the house.
But so prospective buyers wouldn't freak out over dead animals on the wall, we had to remove Earl, along with the deer heads in our home. (Fun having your home on the market.)
Ray made so many trips up the shaky extension ladder that at one point I thought blasting ole Earl with a shot gun might be the best means to loosen his hold on the wall. Before Ray freed Earl, he told me that he didn't know how much Earl weighed, so I needed to brace myself. I clung to the rope and envisioned being yanked from the floor and dangling in mid air along side Earl.
Ray pried him from the wall and Earl swung free, I was relieved to find my feet still planted firmly to the floor. But another dilemma loomed over head. Earl swayed back and forth and twirled around. His gigantic antlers lunged toward Ray on the ladder. I feared Ray would be gored by those massive antlers. But as usual Ray persevered, and wrestled Earl gently to the floor. His ingenuity never ceases to amaze me. Really wish we had taken pictures or better a video, but all hands were busy holding onto precious Earl and the rope.
It's sad to not see Earl in his rightful place, but we have no plans to put him back. We will hold a quiet vigil as we place Earl in the garage until we can find him another home. We will make a toast in his honor as we pay respect to this beautiful, noble creature that kept watch over our home for the past 18 years. So long Earl, we'll miss you.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
First Sign
I was nervous as I prepared for my first book signing. I'd heard stories of first events from other authors, and most were not very encouraging. But you have to start sometime. My biggest fear was that I would say the wrong thing or something stupid--well, that shouldn't have been my biggest fear.
When the first person asked what my book was about--my brain froze. My mind went absolutely blank about a story that I know backwards and forwards. Not one practiced comment came to mind, and my side kick never uttered a word either. I guess his brain froze too.
I hurriedly blurted out, "You'll have to read it to find out." Great save, huh? I immediately handed them a book, and while they read the details about the book on the cover, I read it too! So things have to go uphill from here, right? Not totally.
The title The Third Threat and a banner asking "What would you do?" set off lively debates between potential buyers. Extreme comments--from a suggestion to close all convenience stores because they're all fronts--to reporting any threat would be a violation of an individual's right to free speech. We even had a couple pray for us. They never said why, perhaps they thought we were the third threat.
On the whole, everyone was super nice, and we had a great time visiting with them.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
chigger blogger
I was told to blog that I needed a name. Some blog names center on what a person does, and others use nicknames. I considered the deadly pen blogger, but it didn't seem to fit. It was suggested that I use my childhood nickname, but to do so, would call for an explanation.
I grew up four miles from the center of a small town. Which basically means that I lived in the country. My dad refused to let me own a bike (long story), so my only mode of travel was to walk. We weren't connected to our neighbors by a winding sidewalk. A visit to anyone involved a trek through a pasture or along the road.
My cousins and best friend, Glynda, lived the equivalent of three city blocks across a pasture from me. Not that far. But if I went along the road, it was more like seven. Now why would I even consider the longer way? Crossing the pasture meant the possibility of a confrontation with a snake lying in wait in the tall weeds.
Depending on how brave I felt, determined my route. To cross the pasture was always a dare. I would take the stance of a sprinter, take deep breaths, and then run as fast as possible--never stopping until I reached the safety of their yard. In all the years that I crossed that pasture, not once did I ever see a snake, but no matter how fast I ran--red bugs, called chiggers in northeast Texas, would attach themselves to my body--not just a few, but dozens of them. All spring and summer, I would be covered with red bumps.
It seemed I was the only one afflicted by them, something that I found strange. My cousins found it amusing, so they started calling me, Chigger or Chig, and most still do to this day.
I grew up four miles from the center of a small town. Which basically means that I lived in the country. My dad refused to let me own a bike (long story), so my only mode of travel was to walk. We weren't connected to our neighbors by a winding sidewalk. A visit to anyone involved a trek through a pasture or along the road.
My cousins and best friend, Glynda, lived the equivalent of three city blocks across a pasture from me. Not that far. But if I went along the road, it was more like seven. Now why would I even consider the longer way? Crossing the pasture meant the possibility of a confrontation with a snake lying in wait in the tall weeds.
Depending on how brave I felt, determined my route. To cross the pasture was always a dare. I would take the stance of a sprinter, take deep breaths, and then run as fast as possible--never stopping until I reached the safety of their yard. In all the years that I crossed that pasture, not once did I ever see a snake, but no matter how fast I ran--red bugs, called chiggers in northeast Texas, would attach themselves to my body--not just a few, but dozens of them. All spring and summer, I would be covered with red bumps.
It seemed I was the only one afflicted by them, something that I found strange. My cousins found it amusing, so they started calling me, Chigger or Chig, and most still do to this day.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Beginnings
I should relate how this journey of publishing The Third Threat began.
Writing has always been my passion, but like so many people--life happens and your dream is put on the shelf. If it sits there long enough, you tend to forget you even had a dream--that is some dreams.
It's impossible to do that with your true passion, because it never allows you to forget. It gnaws at your subconscious and tugs at your heart. If your aren't pursuing your passion, there is an emptiness in your being--not as powerful as an emptiness in your soul--but it is always there--nagging, nudging and sometimes pushing you to go for it.
The only thing that will fill that emptiness is fulilling your passion. So I wrote for years and dreamed about the day that I would submit something to be published. Family, kids, work and so many things can be used as an excuse, but at some point--you have to make your passion a priority. And thanks to my families encouragement--I did. I didn't think it would take me so long to get here--but the important thing is not how long the journey took, but that I made the journey.
Writing has always been my passion, but like so many people--life happens and your dream is put on the shelf. If it sits there long enough, you tend to forget you even had a dream--that is some dreams.
It's impossible to do that with your true passion, because it never allows you to forget. It gnaws at your subconscious and tugs at your heart. If your aren't pursuing your passion, there is an emptiness in your being--not as powerful as an emptiness in your soul--but it is always there--nagging, nudging and sometimes pushing you to go for it.
The only thing that will fill that emptiness is fulilling your passion. So I wrote for years and dreamed about the day that I would submit something to be published. Family, kids, work and so many things can be used as an excuse, but at some point--you have to make your passion a priority. And thanks to my families encouragement--I did. I didn't think it would take me so long to get here--but the important thing is not how long the journey took, but that I made the journey.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Waiting To Be Launched
The most important part of planning a launch party, is to find the best location. My husband, Ray and I didn't want to inflict this awful job on anyone else, so we volunteered for the difficult task to scout local restaurants, wineries, bars etc. We forced ourselves to go to nice places and sample their food and drinks. This is something we seldom do and don't enjoy doing in the least. I know that will come as a shock to some people. If you saw us about town, and we looked like we were enjoying ourselves, that was all an act. ha ha
We have it narrowed down to two places. By Monday we will make a decision, but then again, we might force ourselves to make one more round of places, just to be sure.
We have it narrowed down to two places. By Monday we will make a decision, but then again, we might force ourselves to make one more round of places, just to be sure.
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