Looking For Inspiration To Write?

Do you ever feel like you don't know what to write about? That writing is getting to be a drag? That you have no new project in mind and you really don't care? Every writer experiences these feelings occasionally. We hope it's only once in awhile, not on a regular basis. We all need some inspiration at that point. 

This past week, Ken and I attended a farewell concert on our university campus. A renowned music professor, leader of the Gold Orchestra conducted his final concert at Kansas State University. Being there, seeing a man honored for his long career and hearing the young people in the orchestra sounding like professional musicians inspired me. When each senior was introduced, their major cited and what future plans they had, I felt even more enthused. Very few were music majors. Their study field ranged from Engineering to Education and more. They were in the orchestra because they also loved music and the instrument each played. I left with my heart uplifted.

We spent the week-end in Kansas City, 2 hours east of us. We did a bit of shopping and attended a 50th anniversary dinner for a charity group we support. Seeing all the good this group has done in the world was emotional and inspiring. On Sunday, we attended a church service and then had a sumptuous lunch at The Cheesecake Factory, using two gift cards received at Christmas. On the drive home, I felt inspired by so many parts of the week-end. As we drove through the Flint Hills of Kansas, I started planning a piece I'd like to write for a new Chicken Soup for the Soul book. The rolling prairie served as inspiration, too.

Taking a break from the writing process and attending concerts, plays, or a quick week-end trip can do wonders to give you the urge to write something new or get on with one of those big projects you sometimes wonder why you ever started. Take a drive through the prettiest place you know in the area where you live. The scene in the photo above would make me want to paint a picture--or write a story, even a description of this place. 

Even a long walk can give you a needed break from writing and, if you use your writer's eye, you can see much along the way to inspire you. Don't walk with head down, hands in your pockets and a gloomy look on your face. Look around you. There is so much to be seen, so many things that can lift your heart. Inspiration is there. All you have to do is let it settle over you like a warm comforter.

Perception In Our Writing Life

Yesterday's post addressed The Ugly Three--fear, doubt and beating up on yourself.  There are definitely times in our lives where circumstances do affect our outlook and open the door to let The Ugly Three move right into our house. 

Not easy to fight all three at one time. The advice from this pretty little bird is one way to combat the problem. Consider the possibility that the way you perceive things makes a difference in the way you deal with The Ugly Three.

If rejections have increased those fears and doubts, it's up to you to sweep those feelings away and dwell on the good things. Rejections are not all bad. They allow us to find our problem areas. Some writers have great things to say but use all passive verbs and no adjectives to write their piece or they constantly repeat words. Instead of the worthy parts coming across to the reader, what you've written becomes boring. When you receive a rejection, pull out the story, essay or article and read it carefully. What do you see in the mechanics that might have turned the editor off in a hurry? Do another thorough edit of your own. 

Cut repetitious information; fix those other mechanical errors. Do a slice and save. Save all the good parts and rewrite what is needed. Then, submit again to a different editor. You'll reap benefits in doing this instead of beating up on yourself. 

At the risk of looking like Pollyanna, I urge all writers to use as many positives in their writing journey as they can. Sure, there are bumps along your path but your attitude toward and perception of same make a big difference in the outcome. Positives boost your spirits while negatives drag you down. 

Did you ever consider that negative remarks about your writing (made by you) could be excuses? You might be looking for a way to get out of rewriting, more editing, or even starting from scratch. It's a lot easier to sit in your chair and grouse than it is to do a rewrite. 

Sometimes we cannot change what is occurring to us or around us. If a situation in your writing life appears to be affecting your ability to write, or your desire to write, step back and consider the perception factor. How we see things can be bigger than we sometimes realize. 

Writers--Do You Suffer From The Ugly Three?

A writer I know has been stressing out about her writing journey recently. She reached out for advice from a group of writers. What better people to seek for aid than ones who have probably also been through the same situation at some time or other? They gave her bits and pieces of their own similar times and offered suggestions. Many ended by sending a hug. 

As a group, writers probably experience the Ugly Three on a regular rotating basis. I consider The Ugly Three to be fear, doubt, and beating up on yourself. For a long time, we never encounter any of these and suddenly, they pop up from nowhere, or so it seems.

The Ugly Three

Fear:  New writers feel like a non-swimmer diving into the deep end of the pool Sink or swim! Questions abound Will anyone want to read what I've written? Will an editor accept what I send? Can I write well enough to get published? Do I have anything new to say?

Seasoned writers live with their stomach in knots at times, too. Questions feed fear in their minds, too. Can I find something new to write about? Can I please my readers? Will my editor continue accepting my work? Will I run out of things to write about? How long will it take for me to be a household name in the writing world?

Doubt:  All writers deal with doubt at some time. Some writers wrestle with it on a daily basis. Instead of accentuating the positives in our writing life (go ahead and list them--there are many!), we tend to let the negatives rise to the top and smother the good things. Don't let that happen. Keep reminding yourself that you chose this writing journey; no one forced you into it. You did it because you had a passion for the written word, the desire to be published. Never forget that you continue to grow as a writer with each piece you write. Even so, things roll through your mind. Is this good enough to be published? Will my readers like it? What if I get terrible reviews? What if my editor dumps me? 

Beating up on yourself:   We all do this now and then. We might not go as far as self-flagellation (please do not ever!) but we do let our mind play games with us at times. We put ourselves down with thoughts like Why did you ever think you could be a writer? What made you think an editor would like your work enough to published it? You're nowhere near as good as your fellow writers. This new story just plain stinks! Does it make you feel better to beat up on yourself? I don't think so. All it does is feed the doubts and fears we might already have. Remember that YOU are in charge of you so take hold of the problem and confront it. 

Do people in other fields run into The Ugly Three, too? Of course, they do. We're all human and we have hurdles to cross now and then, no matter what our field of expertise happens to be. Know that you are completely normal if you suffer from The Ugly Three. Worry only if they take over your writing life completely. If that happens, it may be time to take a break, come back later and assess the matter and reclaim the passion you once had for writing. 

Meanwhile, I'm sending big hugs to any writer who needs one.

Get Ready For Poem In Your Pocket Day

At the beginning of this month, I wrote a post on National Poetry Month. I said that we can do three things with poetry--write it, read it, or ignore it. The official poster for 2018 is above. 

As a part of this month-long celebration, we celebrate Poem in Your Pocket Day, tomorrow, April 26th.  You can read more about the national celebration, which began in New York City and grew to be nationwide here.

You can also participate by selecting a favorite poem, or even writing one, and take it with you tomorrow. Read to fellow workers, commuters, shoppers, classmates, teachers, friends--whoever you might run into on Thursday, the 26th of April. 

Oh wait--you think you'll feel a bit foolish whipping out a piece of paper with a poem on it and reading it aloud? I admit, it is not the usual way we approach those who cross our paths each day. I have a feeling that you might get a few surprised looks at first, but I think many will stop and listen to what you have to say. Not only will they listen but ponder on what they heard as they go about their day. 

There are some who will memorize the poem they have chosen and recite it. No foolishness about it. Others will admire what you have done. Alright--you might receive a giggle or two at first but as you proceed, the giggle will subside. I have a friend who writes poetry. She memorizes her poems and, at Read-Arounds, she dazzles others with her ability to write and recite. 

I would suggest using a relatively short poem, one with a few verses, not the epic sagas that we read in school, no matter how much you liked it. Use a poem you have written or one you have always loved or one you read only recently. 

It will take a few minutes of your time to find you poem, print it (or memorize!) and pop it in your pocket to use all day. You just might add a bit of joy to someone's life when you read your poem. You've seen how people in malls respond to flash dance groups. We all like being entertained and those spur of the moment entertainments rank right at the top of the list of what we enjoy. 

I'd love to hear a report of what occurred when you slipped your poem out of your pocket and proceeded to perform. If I receive enough comments, I'll post them on Friday. 

Writers Should Be Unique

You would not believe how long it has taken me to get the blog post started this morning. Computer woes of various kinds. I am no computer guru so it took awhile for me to figure out the problem, restart both computer and modem and more. I am a writer, not a computer tech. The odd thing is that I had said exactly that to a woman who is helping me with some photos that need to go on a website with information for a writer's convention I am helping organize. I cannot begin to compare myself to those who know so much about the tech world.

Nor can you or I compare ourselves to other writers. Look at the reasons below:

• we are all unique individuals
• we have various writing voices
• we pull from different life experiences
• we have numerous levels of writing experience
• we have a variety of writing goals
• we are moving at different speeds in our writing journey
• we write in several genres

As a poet, I would never compare myself to Robert Frost. I write totally different kinds of poems than he did, so why even try to compare? I cannot compare myself to John Grisham. I'm not a mystery-suspense-thriller writer. 

The point is that none of us should rate our own writing versus another person's writing. If you're in a critique group, look around the people who are in it. Do any compare to the others? Probably not. Each one of those people is one distinct writer. That's what is so beautiful about the writing world--we are individuals and need not compare our self to any other writer. 

When you submit your work to an editor, you don't want to tell him/her I write just like Willa Cather. That's why I know you'll love my work. The editor does not want another Willa Cather; he/she wants someone new with new things to say.

Don't compare--be your own writer. Be a committee of one. Be an individual. 

Lady In The Garden--What's Her Story?

free image from Vintage Victorian Images

I am careful to use only free images from online sites when I am writing my blog post. If you use a photo you found online or are using a search engine to find one, be sure to use 'free' in the keyword for your search. 

I'm later than usual in posting, so let's do a photo prompt exercise. I've been saving this picture because I liked it so much. Yes, I'm a romantic who loves historical fiction. While very lovely, the photo also gives us much to consider before writing.

Play the old "What if?" game. What if this happened while the lady was picking flowers? Or that happened? Will it be something wonderful? Or something to make us shudder? 

Look at her dress and parasol. What can you say about it that will describe it well? How about all that paraphernalia she most likely wore underneath? And what about her hairstyle? Easy to do each day? Did she need help? 

Ask yourself if she's happy or sad. Is she picking the flowers for a party or to add something special to her home. Is she waiting for someone or has someone just left? 

Sensory details? Smell might come to mind first when you see the mass of flowers. Is there sound in the garden? 

I've given you lots to consider while studying the picture. Now write a paragraph, two or a full story. Have fun and share if you'd like in the comments section. 

Writers Need Help To Polish The Apple

For those unaware, a beta reader is a non-professional who reads a novel before publication to give  the author feedback on various aspects of the book--plot, appeal, places where it drags, spelling and other mechanical errors. A novelist might choose several beta readers, send the manuscript, then sit back waiting for the responses and chewing fingernails while the betas read. They hope for cheers and Let's break out the champagne for this one kind of responses.

Critiquers are usually writers who are willing to give a fellow writer some constructive criticism and/or praise. Many writers, like me, join a writer's critique group to get help in polishing a piece of writing, to find out if it is worth pursuing, and more. I found out early on in my writing journey that while those 'atta girl' critiques inflate the ego a bit, the ones that rip your writing up one side and down the other are the critiques that are the most helpful. Sounds a bit masochistic, does it not? 

The main thing a writer must keep in mind is pointed out in our poster today. The criticism is not about you, the person. Instead, it is concerned with what you have written. Those words on the paper or screen that you hope will thrill others are exactly that--words. 

Some might argue that what we write is every bit 'us' the person. Even so, writers must learn that any criticism they receive, whether from those beta readers or professional writers who critique their work, is meant to help them grow as a writer. Both help by giving the writer another chance to revise and edit before submitting to a publisher. I would add a third word to 'revise and edit'--polish. 

Ever see photos of a child polishing an apple before handing it to the teacher? Sounds, of course, like a Norman Rockwell painting. That little girl or boy wants the apple to be special before giving it to the teacher. It's exactly how we should want to see our writing--polished and shining, as close to perfect as possible. 

Once we give our work to others to read and critique, we set ourselves up for more work. You know, deep down, that what you've written is not going to come back unmarked. But, isn't that what we should all want? To write and rewrite until we have a worthy piece of writing. One that shines like a polished apple!

Writers and New Beginnings

There's a bit of excitement when starting something new--a new job, a new relationship, a new book to read, a new house, a new year. It's wonderful to put your foot on a blank path with all kinds of possibilities ahead of you.

So it is for writers who get the urge to begin a new writing project. Quite often, I have thoughts about it for days, even weeks, before I actually sit down and put fingers to keyboard. Other times, I get inspired, drop other tasks and start pounding the keys to get that first draft written. The best thing is that when it's time to begin, I have no doubts. 

I also do not know if what I'm about to ensue will be of any worth or not. Some are and some are pure drivel. As the poster tells us, we should trust the magic of beginnings. That magic comes from being enthused, or even excited, about writing something new. It's probably a time that brings out the best 'writer' in us. 

When we have been working on a writing project, such as a full novel, for what can feel like an eternity, we're less apt to be as excited as we were at the onset. Thoughts like Will I ever finish? Why did I ever start this? If I'm bored with this, maybe readers will be, too. I'm so done with this! run through our minds. It's then that we should perhaps set the old aside and begin something new. It could give us the spark needed to go back to the other project with a bit more enthusiasm. 

Last evening, I started reading a book recommended to me by a friend. I turned the first pages to the page where the novel begins. It startled me a bit because there was one paragraph followed by a lone sentence. That handful of words were skillfully written, making me want to turn the page and get into the story. I felt excited about was to come after reading the hint in the concise opening page. 

That's the way I want to feel when I start writing a new story. I hope I never have that same old, same old attitude when an entirely new project with endless possibilities is mine to grasp and enjoy. How about you? What is the best part of beginning a new writing project? What magic do you find with each one? 

Writers Love Words. How About You?

I'm a word person. Have you ever heard anyone say that? If you ever spent some time with me, you'd most likely hear those 4 words slip right out of my mouth to whatever ear is nearby. Numbers and anything to do with them bore me. Mathematicians would cringe at hearing me say that, I'm sure. 

You'll never see me doing a sudoko puzzle. Crossword puzzles are a joy for me. There is one in our Kansas City paper every day that is relatively easy and I can complete it in about 10 minutes. I consider it exercising my mind but I also like the puzzles because it allows me to play with words.

Looking at the poster for today and putting it and more in question form, how would you answer the following?

• Do you love the shape of stories? The opening lines, the building blocks that create the story, and a fitting ending--all of these things that shape a story.
• Do you have an appreciation of creating sentences from words?
•  Do you like the way words become phrases?
• Is it a joy for you to create new worlds on each page?
• Is writing satisfying for you?
• Do you like the sounds of certain words?
• Are you an avid reader?

If your answers were mostly positive, then consider yourself a writer. Not a scientific survey but still easy enough to see who is a word lover like me. 

The last question in the list above comes from the final part of the Annie Proulx, author, quote. I am in agreement with her statement that writing comes from reading and that we are students of the craft who can learn a great deal by reading what others have written. No, we don't want to copy other authors. We want our own voice in our writing but, even so, there is much to learn from reading the work of other writers. Be a sponge and soak up the lessons. 

As writers, I think we learn while reading for pleasure, even if it is subconsciously. I mentioned a few days ago that I had pointed out an opening line in the novel my Book Club had read. I was able to initiate a discussion about the importance of a first line or first paragraph in a story. I am the only one in the group who is a writer as well as a reader. One woman said she had never considered how important those opening lines/paragraphs were. She added that she'd be paying attention to them from now on. 

Write but also learn from the writing of others. 

If I Can Write Free Verse, You Can, Too!

What is that you say? You're not a poet? Have you ever tried to write a poem? Ever been inspired to do so? Have you ever seen a sunset so spectacular that you wanted to paint it? If only you knew how. I try free verse poetry when something I see moves me emotionally.

I wrote a lot of things before I ever attempted poetry. In high school, I remember reading a lot of poetry and memorizing it but we were never asked to write it. That was a shame. 

Prose writers should also try their hand at poetry. No one says it has to be a prize winner. Like any other kind of writing, you have to keep working at it. I'm the first to admit that I like to write Free Verse because there is no worrying about meter or rhyme. You can say whatever you like in whatever style that appeals to you. 

One night I couldn't get to sleep and I began watching the shadows of trees outside on the bedroom wall. I thought about my insomnia kind of night the next day and decided to write about it, not prose but a short poem. This was the result:

Darkness

Night shadows shimmer

 across my bedroom wall;

tree branches bend to

the will of the wind,

reaching for the window.

Moonlight guides my steps

as I pad to the empty kitchen.

In the lunar-lit darkness,  

more shapes flicker and beckon   

on this well-known path.

A glass of milk to help

me drift into sleep

before too many thoughts

again wrap round my mind

while I watch silent shadows

dancing through this wakeful night.

                               --Nancy Julien Kopp

It's merely another way of saying "I couldn't sleep last night and I watched shadows on the wall before I got up and went to the kitchen for a glass of milk in hopes I could stop thinking and get to sleep." Isn't the poem a better way to say it? 

Once you begin writing free verse poems, you'll start looking at the word choices you've made. If you use things like alliteration--in poem above the first line is an example: shadows shimmer, then farther down branches bend and will of the wind and finally, silent shadows. As in prose writing, try for active verbs, no repeating of words, and visual images. 

Use something simple when you first try to write free verse. Let the first draft simmer a few days and go back to it. Read it to see where you might put more descriptive words, better verbs and other things to make the poem sound better. Read it aloud. As I read over the poem I've used as an example, I see places I might change.Lots of alliteration in first stanza and only one other place. Maybe I'd try for more.  Poets edit and revise just like prose writers do.

In honor of National Poetry Month, try to write a free verse poem. Who knows? You might like the form and keep on writing. 

Poets--Check This Call For Submissions

Cherry Blossoms

Some of you may have seen my post on facebook about a poem of mine published on Poetry Super Highway website this past Saturday. The editors put out a call for submissions with a very short time span to deaPoetry Super dline which was only a week away. It happened that a poem I'd written three years ago was sitting quietly in my Documents file. 

I have mentioned in this blog more than once that those pieces you've written and had not been able to find a home for might be the perfect fit for a call for submissions someday. I'd written the poem after an extremely moving visit to a small village in the Czech Republic while on a tour of eastern Germany and Prague. As we entered the Czech Republic, our tour guide told us we'd have time to make a stop at Terezin, a small village that had been an internment camp for Jews during WWII. I felt such a presence of something as we arrived. The tour guide had told us some background and personal stories. She suggested we get off the bus and take photos, perhaps walk to the cemetery. Everyone went but me. I could not leave the bus, still feeling the ghosts of those who had been held here so long ago. 

The Poetry Super Highway was looking for poems for their issue marking Holocaust Remembrance Day. They selected 71 poems from around the world that dealt with this topic. You can read them here. The list of poets is first, followed by the 71 poems. Mine is titled "The Ghosts of Terezin." Then have a look around the Poetry Super Highway.

When I browsed the website, I noticed the editors featured a Poet of the Week in each issue. The person selected has a photo, bio and some of his/her poetry featured. There is no pay but the exposure is worth something. You can find a detailed page of Submission Guidelines.  Look through your files and select a few of your best poems to submit. 

Don't be afraid to submit your poems. The worst that can happen is that your work will not be accepted and you won't be the Poet of the Week. But there is always the chance that you will get that wonderful email telling you the good news that your poetry will be featured. Note that they do give a time frame of possibly six months. 

Send poems already written or write something new to submit. The photo of the cherry blossoms on today's post might be inspiration for you. I used them because we have had another cold, totally unlike April week-end with temps below freezing at night and barely above during the day. Even had a little snow Saturday night. Spring in this part of Kansas is usually quite lovely. This year, we get teased with a few nice days, then zapped with wintry stuff again. Some other states are digging out form big snowstorms this past few days so I should not complain but I'm longing for greener grass, leaves on trees and glorious spring flowers. Somebody should write a poem about that!

Write Now!

Anyone who reads this blog on a regular basis knows that I frequently raise the banner high to urge writers and non-writers to make and save a written record of their family stories. Telling them around the dining room table is entertaining but not lasting. 

Take a good look at the woman whose shadow shows in the photo above. She's visiting a grave in a cemetery somewhere in the world. Who is the person she visits? Was there a family bond? Does she have stories to tell about this person. Has she written them somewhere? Or are they bundled nicely in her heart tied with a red ribbon where only she knows them?

What if the person she visits is a beloved family member? What if she knows myriad stories about the person? Stories that help paint a picture of his/her personality? Of deeds done in kindness? Or what if the person was a convicted felon? These stories need to be saved for the family, as well.

When the woman, whose shadow we see, passes through life and is in her own grave, the stories she knows about her family members will most likely be buried with her. Future generations of her family will be cheated, even though they will not know what they are missing. 

Write your family stories about the good times and the bad to create a family history for those that are future members of your family and others already here. 

When I see news stories about people who had been adopted at an early age and never knew their birth family but suddenly find one another, I think about the family stories the adopted children had missed. Yes, they have their own set of family stories during all the growing up years with the people whom they love and consider their Mom and Dad. In some respects, adopted people are pretty fortunate as they have two sets of family stories. A dear friend had been adopted as an infant. She found a brother late in her life. When they met, they had so much to tell one another about both adopted families and what they'd learned about their birth parents. Two siblings with three sets of family stories. 

The best way to begin a Family Stories project is to write one. Note that I said 'one' because it's easier than a dozen at a time. Write one, save it, then write another one later. Build the Family Stories Book with a story, then another, and then another. 

One of my husband's aunts had a lot of insight. She made a photo album of pictures of my husband's extended family. I'm sure she spent many hours gathering and sorting and labeling. When the album was finished, she didn't give it to my husband. Instead, she wanted our oldest grandchild to have it. That grandchild is now 22 and has a history of her grandfather's family. This same aunt told me many family stories and I have written some of them for her. 

You can do the same for your family members. The week-end is here, so why not write the first one now? 

Relive Some Childhood Days

A good many of us have felt this way. I've heard people remark that their childhood days were simpler, plainer, and perhaps kinder. Maybe they were like that for us as children but I have a feeling our parents had as much stress as those of today. 

We can go back and feel some of those happy times again. Memoir pieces and family stories can be the vehicle that allows you to relive those days. 

Whenever I have written about days of long ago, I find a spot of happiness in my day. Remembering the small apartment where I grew up brings back memories of the tantalizing aromas in my mother's very small kitchen. She made some amazing meals there, using the kitchen table as her workspace. The stove, sink and  very small fridge were only a few steps away from the table, each in a different direction.

There were no kitchen cabinets where dishes were kept. Instead, a small walk-in pantry held everything needed to cook for and serve a family of six. There was a radio on top of the small fridge. which was played most of the day, and before we had television, we listened to programs on the radio in our living room every night. That radio was a tall console model. I can remember sitting on the floor as close as I could get to the bottom area where the speakers were located. 

My mother cooked many things without a recipe. She had only one cookbook. I can see it now in that little pantry. The cover was blue and the words on it were The Watkins Cookbook. She must have bought it from the Watkins man who came door to door selling vanilla and other extracts. Mom also used handwritten recipes she'd collected from her mother and her friends. I wish I had that cookbook now. It's not the recipes in it that are of importance but the fact that my mother's hands held it time and time again. "Get the cookbook," she'd sometimes say to me. I had no problem finding it--step into the pantry, reach out to a shelf on the right side and grab it. Even as I write this, I know that, if I looked high up on the top shelf, I'd see an old oil lamp that belonged to my grandmother. Mom kept it there for times when the power was out. What fun it was to have the oil lamp lit shedding just enough light on the kitchen table to allow my brothers and me to color or play a board game. 

I walked into that tiny kitchen from the back porch every time I came home from school or had been outside playing with neighbor kids. I had to climb three flights of stairs to reach our back door. On winter days, it was so comforting to walk into that warm room--warmed as much by the good things that came from our oven as it was from the radiator--one in every room to heat our apartment. In the summer, we'd find a pitcher of Kool-aid or iced tea to cool us, along with a freshly baked cookie or two. 

One window stood between the side of the fridge and the front of the stove to allow light and fresh air into the kitchen. Our dad put a large fan in that window during the summer. I can hear the whirr of the motor and the blades turning. Mom had to turn up the volume on the radio when the fan was on. She didn't want to miss a minute of the daily soap operas she listened to regularly.

We gathered around the table in the small dining room next to the kitchen on Sundays at noon for our big meal of the day. On Sunday night, we were back at the table in the kitchen, eating a light supper accompanied by Jack Benny on the radio. We listened and laughed as a family. Later in the evening, Dad might make popcorn. He used a big kettle type pan on top of the stove. We waited for the popping sound to begin and watched Dad shake the pan sideways across the burner to keep the corn kernels moving and pop, pop, popping. Lots of butter and salt on the hot popcorn made it the best treat ever. 

I know my parents managed to just make it on Dad's salary but we had a lot of good times in our small kitchen. Today, it might be called a mini-kitchen in comparison to what we see in homes and apartments. I can still spend a little time there when I think or write about the memories in that room. I am back with my mom and dad and three little brothers. 

Write some memoir pieces or family stories if you want to feel a few things, to relive those childhood days and to savor the memories of the place where you grew up. 

Re-reading Books--Do You Or Don't You?

Today's blog is addressed to both writers and readers. I'm including writers because they are generally also avid readers. The books I am talking about are fiction, ones that are good stories, those we don't ever forget after we read them.

The Book Club I belong to read The Good Earth by Pearl Buck this month. We met yesterday for our discussion. One of the questions the moderator asked was Had you read this book before and at what age?  The question pleased me because I had some thoughts about that subject as I read the book.

We are a small group but every one of the women had read the book more than once. For me, it was three times. One had it assigned in a college class. The rest of us had read it by our own choice. 

One woman said she read it the first time when in seventh grade because her mother loved books by Pearl Buck, which led her to try them. I took it off a library shelf when I was in high school, read it and went back to select more books by the same author. 

This was my third reading of the book. As mentioned, first in high school, then as a young married woman and mother and, now, as a senior citizen. Reading the same book at different stages of life allows the reader to have a different perspective. My own experiences in life affected what I received from the book on this third reading. Did I still enjoy the book on this third read? Absolutely! In fact, I think I liked it best this time and reaped more from it than on the first two readings. 

We read books again if we found them appealing on the initial read. They feel familiar and please us. I have a friend who reads a certain book every December. There are readers who would say, Why do that? There are no surprises. You know what is going to happen. Comfort and pleasure are two good reasons. For her, it's become a tradition. 

There are readers who have a big stack of To-Be-Read books so they can't imagine why they would take time to read a novel they'd already read. I don't chew my food twice, so why should I read a book twice? That is the attitude of some readers. 

Think about the books you read to your children when they were pre-school age. Did they have a favorite that you had to read again and again? My daughter loved The Three Little Kittens. When she headed to the basket of books, I knew which one she'd pull out first. She'd run to me and hand me the book I didn't even have to read the words as I'd memorized the entire thing. I could recite it to her as she turned the pages. For her, it was comfort and pleasure just as it is for many adults who like to read a good book more than once.

What books have you read more than once? Or do you hate reading a book more than one time? If so, why? 

Do You Write "Good?"

/Don't you love it when you finish a first draft, sit back and feel excited about what you wrote? How often does that happen? How frequently do we allow ourselves that feeling?

I wrote a poem a couple years ago that I subbed to my critique group. Several told me it said something important and I needed to submit it. So, I did submit the poem to several publications. Never got so much as a flicker of interest. After being rejected at each place I'd subbed to, I did exactly what I've told you readers to do when a piece doesn't work or is not accepted. I put it in a file and thought that someday, maybe I'd find the right place for this particular poem. 

Yesterday, I received an email with a call for submissions for poems about the exact subject my poem languishing in a file addresses. As I read the information, I marveled that the call went out on Monday and deadline was Friday of the same week. Maybe 'starteld' is a better word. I checked and the publication is legitimate. So, later today, I am going to pull the poem from the dusty file and do a final edit and tweak it a bit, then submit. If I had tried to start a poem from scratch after reading the call for submissions yesterday, it would be a hurried project and I might rue the day I subbed it.

Poetry is no different than prose. We edit and revise numerous times until it meets our satisfaction. 

The poem is one of those that I did feel good about when I wrote it. I felt good when it received accolades from my fellow critiquers. I felt good about it when I filed it for future use. The future is now and I hope that I will still feel good about what I wrote when I read it later today. 

I'd love to see a survey on the percentage of things written make the writers feel good. If you sorted all that you have written over the years into the ones that excited you and the ones that made you feel so-so and then the ones that made you grimace because you know you can writer better--if you did that, how many would land in that stack that made you excited? My guess is that it might be the smallest pile of the three. Unless you are an exceptional writer and everything you write excites you. If that's you, raise your hand. 

I know one thing--I definitely remember the ones that made me feel excited, made me feel good, made me feel satisfied. 

Writers--Stuff Happens!

In regard to the poster quote for today--the things that occur in our writing world are catalysts for change and growth. I'm glad there are two words given in the quote--change and growth. We can change for the better or for the worse, but growth indicates that our change is hopefully for the better. 

If you have an opportunity to go to a writing conference and you choose to stay home and read a book, you lose a chance to grow as a writer. If you make the effort to attend the conference, which might mean scraping up the funds and making travel arrangements, your writing life will change for the better.

What if you are at the library and you scan the shelf of books that concentrate on the craft of writing but you see a display of new romance novels nearby? Off you go to grab the one that appeals most to you, the writing books forgotten. That novel may be entertaining but it probably won't help you grow as a writer nearly as much as the writing books would. 

If you start a blog with great enthusiasm, then slack off and post only when you're in the mood, you won't grow as a blog writer. Besides that, you'll lose readers faster than an old slot machine delivered coins into your outstretched hands when you hit the jackpot. 

Write something every day. What about that bit of advice we've all heard many times? If you make a concerted effort to do so, you'll grow as a writer. If you write once a week, or once a month, you might change your writing life completely. It could dwindle down to nothing. The longer you don't write, the easier it is to not do it at all.

Granted--there are things and times in our life when events or situations do change our writing world. If a spouse has a terminal illness, a writer is going to have to put writing on hold for some time. Or if the writer has an accident or a new baby or visitors who come for a month, writing might have to be put on hold.

In a perfect world, writers would concentrate on writing daily, do exercises frequently to learn more about our craft, go to many conferences and workshops, read myriad books on writing. Whatever interruption we have in our writing life, we need to see it through and then attempt to get back into the swing of writing again--writing and all those other things that help us grow as writers. 

Store some of those experiences that keep you from writing in your memory bank to use once you're back on your writing journey. Don't feel guilty that you had to put writing on hold. Use whatever happened to continue to grow as a writer, putting one foot in front of the other on your writing journey. 

Writing About Smell, Odor and Aroma

Writing exercises flex your writing muscles, bring some creativity to the surface, and often trigger ideas for a new story. This one deals with sensory details which are so important in a story or essay. The sense of smell is the topic. I have listed words, and you are to write a sentence or two telling what smell the word brings to you. Below the list I added my own interpretation of each word. Have fun with this one. It will bring back a few memories for you which may inspire a new writing project. WORD LIST What is the smell of: 1. the moon 2. sadness 3. a child's joy in watching a soap bubble 4. grief 5. cowardice 6. snow 7. velcro 8. a nasty letter 9. silver 10. mystery 11. sand 12. a sidewalk in summer 13. the middle of the earth 14. purple 15. a contented dog napping 16. a cloudless spring sky 17. a dollar bill Nancy's Exercise on Smell What is the smell of: the moon: The heady aroma of a strong cheese, for tis said the moon is made of green cheese, and I believed it as a child. sadness: The antiseptic smell of a hospital for it was there where my greatest sadness occurred with a child who never came home. a child's joy in watching a soap bubble: A sweet, clean smell. Not the bleach odor of a laundry day, just that feel-good-because-you're-clean smell. grief: the cloying sweetness of funeral flowers that can be overwhelming cowardice: sweat, because the coward lacks confidence and would sweat up a storm snow: Ah, this one comes up smelling like ice cream with all it's cold goodness. velcro: surely velcro brings to mind the big jar of school paste that resided in the supply closet at my grade school. How I loved the smooth, sweet smell of the paste. a nasty letter: the vile odor of tar silver: this brings to mind the aroma of tea when served from a silver tea set, soothing, satisfying, and appealing mystery: for some reason, mothballs come to mind with this word. Old clothes stored in mothballs and used in a mystery drama sand: Sand brings back waves of baby oil and iodine, the suntan lotion of choice in the 50's when I frequented beaches. a sidewalk in summer: Kool-aid stands the kids in my neighborhood set up on hot, summer days. Fruity aromas. the middle of the earth: I think of mushrooms growing in groups, pungent with clinging soil purple: for me purple smells like barbecue grills set up in the stadium parking lot, purple flags waving in the Kansas breeze, and also popcorn and cotton candy at the concession stands in the football stadium at K-State. Purple is definitely all the aromas found at a K-State football game a contented dog napping: the comforting scent of cedar, which is what our Irish Setter's bed was filled with. Every morning he was our own walking, barking cedar chest. a cloudless spring sky: Lilacs come to mind, their sweet and fresh scent goes well with a cloudless spring sky. a dollar bill: Musty, dirty, and oily

Strong and Vibrant Words In Your Writing

I played bridge at a friend's home yesterday afternoon. She had a few snacks on the table. One looked enticing as it came from Trader Joe's, a store known for the best of everything. The fact that chocolate was involved drew my interest even more. The hostess said, "Try some." So I had one and another and a third. 

I picked up the container to check the description printed on the label. It said: Roasted almonds drenched in dark chocolate and sprinkled with sea salt and turbinado sugar. Now, how could a snack like that be anything but sheer delight? 

There was one word that stood out in that description--drenched. They might have said covered in dark chocolate but the person who wrote the blurb on that label used a much finer word. What mental image do you have of drenched vs covered? Covered in chocolate is fine but drenched? Oh wow, that made me want to twist off the top and dive right in. I admit that I dearly love chocolate but even those who are so-so about it would note that one word--drenched.

The point here is that we can all use more interesting verbs, adverbs and adjectives in our writing.  Some would claim that even the word covered is alright. Yes, it IS alright but not nearly as good as drenched. That word stepped right out and grabbed me. The next best word in the description is sprinkled. The word might have been left out and we'd still know what was on the chocolate, but doesn't sprinkled sound nice and give you another mental image?

I'd like you to go one step farther. Look for the very best word possible. Put your thesaurus to work if you must. 

For an exercise today, type the word covered, then look for as many words that might give an even better mental image. Use covered in a phrase if it will help.--covered in mud, covered in jewels, covered in cream and, of course, covered in chocolate. 

When you read, watch for words that speak to you the way drenched did for me. By the way, I did go back for one more piece of chocolate covered almonds later in the afternoon. My cards weren't very good and I needed something soothing! 

THANK YOU TO THE NEWEST FOLLOWERS WE HAVE ACQUIRED RECENTLY. 

This Writer Thanks Her Readers

I had a phone meeting with an author this morning. He thanked me for the information I share on my blog and other ways I have tried to be helpful to writers. What a lift for this day. The sun is shining (finally!) and someone appreciates what I do in the writing world. 

I decided to give my readers and Followers a lift today, as well. Thank You to those who are regular readers and Followers of Writer Granny's World. Without you, I would have no reason to post something about my writing world or tips and encouragement for writers. There is sometimes content for those who don't write but are avid readers who are interested in the writing world. Book reviews posted here are for both writers and readers.

When I see a new Follower, I'm delighted. I have a lot more readers than Followers because many will not take the time to sign on as a Follower. Some worry that they will have information sold or used in some way. I can assure you that will never happen here. Some readers wonder why it's important to a blog writer.

Most writers who blog are hoping to promote their own writing as well as offer information to other writers. Editors do look at blogs and they check the number of Followers. A sale may not be made or rejected because of the number of Followers but it certainly doesn't hurt if the number is an impressive one. 

I thank all my Followers from the bottom of my heart. That said, I would love to see more Followers. Regular readers can share the posts with other writers and/or suggest they sign up for the posts and, if they like what they read over time, to become a Follower. 

A few will consider building the Followers part of a blog is nothing more than an ego trip. I will admit that it does make me feel good when I see a new Follower but that is definitely not the one and only reason to promote getting more Followers. 

I also love getting comments. It tells me someone cares, someone liked the post, or perhaps even disagrees with what I've written. Either way, comments are worthwhile. 

Readers, Followers, and Fellow Writers--I am delighted to have you visit my blog occasionally or regularly and I do offer heartfelt thanks. 

April Brings Thoughts On Poetry

April is National Poetry Month. This 30 day celebration began in 1996 by the Academy of American Poets.  Initiated to highlight American poets and the art of poetry, National Poetry month has grown to be the largest literary recognition group. Yesterday, my blog post was titled The Birth of a Story, but a group of poets 20+ years ago birthed a movement to bring poetry into the spotlight, to encourage the reading and love of poetry, and to honor numerous American poets.

We can do three things with poetry--read it, write it, or ignore it. I have chosen the first two.

I didn't always love reading poetry. Like many students in high school, I tolerated it to complete my assignments. Much later in life, I developed an appreciation for those who could express so much in few words. What a prose writer might get across to the reader in 2,000 words, the poet can do in perhaps 130. That impressed me. The love of words drew me to poetry in my adult years. 

I don't remember the first poem I wrote but I know that I wondered who I thought I was, that I could write a poem with no formal training whatsoever. I'd never read a book about writing poetry (still haven't!). What made me think I could do it? I figured out pretty quickly that anyone can write poetry, especially free verse, if they write from the heart. I don't attempt the finer forms that require certain numbers of syllables, certain types of rhythm and more--except for haiku. I have tried my hand at haiku. Some were awful; a few were not bad. 

I wrote a narrative rhyming poem that was published in Boys' Quest, a magazine for middle grade boys. I also entered a poem in our state authors contest and won first place. If I can do that with no formal training, so can you. To be perfectly honest, many more of my poems have been rejected than have bee accepted. That's alright. It delighted me to have even a few published. I mentioned never having read a book on writing poetry, nor have I attended any poetry workshops. That doesn't mean you shouldn't. I might do so someday myself.

Our first exposure to poetry came with the nursery rhymes our mothers read to us, or recited from memory. I used them as a diversion many a time with my children when they were small. Then, we learned the silly rhyming poems that began with Roses are red, violets are blue....Next, we had teachers who made us memorize poems in English class. There were teachers who made us pick apart a poem to learn what the poet was actually trying to say. What were the hidden meanings? The metaphors? The reason for being? That may be when many kids turned off the attention button, some for good. 

If you're one of those who selected ignore it from the three choices we have with poetry, give it another try. Do it with an open mind and the attitude that this time I am going to enjoy poetry. No one likes all poetry just as no one likes all short stories or all memoir pieces. In every kind of writing, we find things that appeal to us and those that do not. I heard a poet laureate of our state speak several years ago. The man was acclaimed for his poems. I didn't have a clue what he was talking about from the first sentence to the last that evening. Hearing his speech did not make me want to read his work. Even so, I knew there were plenty of other poets whose work I would enjoy reading.

The Birth Of A Story

The Dish!

The small dish pictured above was a wedding present given to my maternal grandmother in around 1905. The man who gave it to her ran the General Store in the small coal mining town where my grandparents married and lived. Elizabeth Studham, my grandmother, went to the General Store to shop. The owner said to her, "Elizabeth, I heard you got married." She nodded. The man picked up the painted china dish, handed it to my grandmother and said, "Then I think you must have a wedding gift."  The dish and the story was passed on to my mother and then to me. I have always loved it. 

One evening, several years ago, a phrase popped into my head. Just Plain Sarah Jane I wondered where in the world that had come from. I mentally repeated it, liking the sound of it.

The following day, I had time to work on some writing. I took the pretty little dish from my china cabinet and set it next to my typewriter thinking I'd write a description or the pretty piece. Yes, it was in the days before I had a computer. I studied the dish, then wrote a detailed description. Next, I started writing a story for middle grade kids using the dish and that phrase from the previous night. Those four words became the title for the story and the dish featured prominently in the historical fiction story I wrote. Suddenly, a story was born.

A phrase and an object helped inspire the story that has been published more than once, although several years after I wrote it. Sometimes, it takes very little to inspire us to write a story.. Look around you. What object is in your home that might be the inspiration for a poem or story? What phrase has come to you unexpectedly that you might use in your writing? Story ideas are all around us but it's up to each individual writer to catch hold and use them. 

A couple years ago, we were traveling in Texas and a clerk that helped me in a store had a name badge on her blouse. It said Sarah Jane. Of course, I told her I'd written a story about a girl named Sarah Jane. She asked if I would consider sending a copy to her. I did mail a copy to her after we returned home and she sent me the nicest note. "I liked the Sarah Jane in your story very much," she wrote, "She was a good person." 

See for yourself what you think of Sarah Jane. I have pasted the story below. It has been published at Knowonder! ezine for children and in a Chinese children's magazine. 

Just Plain Sarah Jane

by Nancy Julien Kopp

Sarah Jane gasped when she spied a dainty white china dish in the display window of Owensby’s General Store. How many times had she heard Ma wish for something beautiful for their cabin?

The dish was only big enough to hold a few morsels of Christmas candy, or perhaps Ma’s special pickles. Shaped like a leaf, the scalloped edges were painted blue with fine gold lines curving and swirling through the color. Three ruby red and pink roses with soft green vines graced the center. Ma had nothing this pretty.

Sarah Jane slipped her hand into her pinafore pocket and fingered the smooth metal and tiny ridges of the pennies lying there. She pressed her nose against the window to see the price tag propped beside the dish. In bold black print it said “19 cents.” She rubbed the pennies once more and marched into the store.

“What do you want, Sarah Jane?” Mr Owensby said.

He was tall and thin with a mouth that turned down and eyes that watched the merchandise in his shop like a hawk guarding its prey.

“Ma needs some white thread, Mr. Owensby. She said to put it on the bill.”

“I’ll bet she did,” the storekeeper mumbled. His mouth turned down even farther.

Sarah Jane ignored the comment. She stepped closer to the display window.

“You want something there?” Mr. Owensby asked.

“No, just looking. That little dish is the prettiest thing I ever did see.”

“Huh! May be pretty, but it isn’t practical. Folks ‘round here need practical more than pretty. Don’t know why I let that city salesman talk me into it.”

Mr. Owensby clamped his lips together and handed Sarah Jane the thread.

“Thanks,” she called as she sailed out the door. She started down the wooden walkway but backtracked for one more peek at her treasure. One thought came to her--The roses look so real I can almost smell them. She took two quick hops and turned toward home.

She could see Pa unhitching the horses from the plow when she neared their barnyard.

Sarah Jane ran to her father. “Pa, Pa, will you give me a penny every Saturday like you promised? Will you?

Pa grabbed hold of the harness. “Said I would. One penny every Saturday if you help me hitch up and unhitch. Hope you’ll save it, Sarah Jane, not go buying candy at Owensby’s every week.”

“Oh, I’ll save it, Pa. I’ve put aside fourteen cents already, and I’ve my eye on something special.”

“Must be mighty special to make your eyes shine so and set your feet to dancing.”

Sarah Jane stopped by Owensby’s window on her way home from school every day. In only five weeks she’d have enough to buy the dish for Ma.

Finally the day arrived when Pa gave her the last penny she needed. She tied them up in an old handkerchief and ran most of the way to town. Out of breath by the time she reached the store, she stopped to take in great gulps of air. The familiar excitement bubbled up once more, but when she turned to the window, the bubbles burst. The dish was gone. Cold fingers of fear clutched at her stomach.

She ran inside. “Mr. Owensby, where is the dish, the one with the roses?”

“Ha!” Mr. Owensby said, placing both hands on the counter and leaning forward. “Finally sold it. Lowered the price this morning, and Johnny Ripple snapped it up for Annabelle Nelson’s birthday.” His mouth turned upwards a bit, then he frowned. “Why?”

Sarah Jane’s voice trembled. “It was mine. I’ve been saving my money.” She held up the cloth bundle. “See. I have the nineteen cents here.”

“Nineteen cents! Now look what you’ve done.” Mr. Owensby’s mouth turned down farther than ever before. “You should have told me you wanted it. I sold it to that boy for twelve cents.” He pounded his fist on the counter. “You made me sell that dish at a loss. Boy got himself a real bargain, and it’s your fault, Missy.”

Sarah Jane slipped out the door and headed straight for Annabelle’s house. All the boys liked Annabelle, but Sarah Jane knew none of the girls at school felt the same.

She bounded up the steps of Annabelle’s house and rapped on the door. Her thumping heart kept time with her knocking. When Annabelle answered, Sarah Jane lost no time in small talk. “Annabelle,” she said, “may I see the dish Johnny gave you?”

“How did you know about that?” Annabelle put her hands on her hips and stamped her foot. “He only gave it to me today.”

Sarah Jane eased by the other girl into the house. “Where is it? I want to buy it from you.”

She surveyed the room. “Annabelle, look at all the pretty things you have. You don’t need the dish, but I do. It’s for my ma. Please. I’ll pay you nineteen cents, exactly what Mr. Owensby wanted. ‘Course Johnny didn’t pay that much. He got a bargain, a big sale.”

While she talked, Sarah Jane moved toward Annabelle until she had the girl backed up against the flowered wall. 

When Annabelle could move no farther, she put her hands out. “Wait? You can have the dish. I don’t even like it.” She smiled and narrowed her eyes. “For twenty-five cents.”

“That’s not fair,” Sarah Jane shouted. “You can’t do that.”

“Oh, yes I can. It’s my dish.” Annabelle stuck her tongue out. “Well?”

Sarah Jane figured quickly in her head. “I can have the money for you in six more Saturdays.”

“Perhaps. I suppose I will. I’d rather have the money than the dish. Now go away and don’t bother me until you have the money.”

The weeks dragged for Sarah Jane. Annabelle tossed her curls and darted mean looks every day at school. Sarah Jane bit her lips, counted her pennies, and kept quiet.

Six Saturdays passed, and Sarah Jane presented herself at Annabelle’s door, the twenty-five pennies tied in the handkerchief in her pinafore pocket. She knocked firmly.

A smiling Annabelle answered the door. Her smile vanished. “Oh, it’s just plain Sarah Jane. Whatever do you want?”

Sarah Jane held up the cloth bound pennies. “I have the twenty-five cents for the dish.”

Annabelle shrugged. “I don’t have the old dish anymore. I traded it this morning for something better. Besides, what does a plain person like you want with something so fancy?”

“But, who…what?” Sarah Jane could barely get the words out. She balled her hands into fists, her face turned red, and she shouted, “You are the meanest person I have ever met!”

She whirled around to leave, and her hand holding the pennies hit the railing so hard that the cloth tore, and the coins flew across the porch.

Annabelle laughed as Sarah Jane crawled on hands and knees picking up pennies. Annabelle slammed the door, still laughing.

Halfway home, she came across a horse, hitched to an empty wagon, standing in the road. The black horse shook its head and stomped its hooves.

“Are you alone, old boy?” She patted the horse’s nose, looked right and left but saw no sign of life among the trees, rocks, and wildflowers. Then a faint sound caught her attention. It came from beyond the stand of trees.

“Anybody there?” she hollered, walking past the wagon full of boxes and sacks.

“Help me! Help me!” The voice was weak but distinct.

“Where are you?” she called.

“Down here.”

Sarah Jane ran to the edge of a deep ravine, bent over and searched. Sitting on the ground, about halfway to the bottom, was an old man. His clothes and beard were covered with twigs and leaves.

He moaned and said, “My leg, I’ve hurt my leg. I fell down the ravine looking for firewood. I thought no one would ever come.” He put his hands over his face, and his shoulders shook.

Sarah Jane studied the injured man, then looked back at the horse and wagon still on the road. She cupped her hands around her mouth and called down to him. “I can’t pull you up, but maybe the horse can.”

She raced back to the horse and unhitched him as Pa had taught her. Sarah Jane walked around the wagon looking for something to use for a lifeline. She spotted a long piece of rope coiled on a nail.

She led the horse to the ravine and fastened the rope to the harness. Next, she threw the other end of the rope as far as she could. It landed only a short distance from the injured man.

The old man inched himself toward the rope. “That’s a smart thing to do,” he said breathing hard. He inched himself closer and grasped the rope with both hands, his leather gloves allowing him a firm hold.

Slowly, Sarah Jane led the horse away. Little by little, bump by bump, the old man moved up the ravine until he reached the top. She helped him try to walk back to the wagon. She found a fallen tree limb for him to lean on, and with her help, they made it halfway to the wagon.

“I can go no farther,” the old man said, weariness in his voice. “Let’s rest a little while.” He smiled at Sarah Jane, and his dark eyes brightened. “Who are you? A beautiful angel, perhaps?”

Warmth worked its way up to Sarah Jane’s cheeks, and she lowered her head. She studied her shoes. “No, I’m just plain Sarah Jane—not beautiful anything.”

“Ah, but to me you are very beautiful. Wait here.” The old man hopped on one foot to the wagon. He searched among the many items it held until his hand grasped a burlap sack. “Ah, here it is. Something special. An old peddler like me comes across many beautiful things, but this I got only today.”

He removed his gloves and pulled something small out of the sack. “Here—here is something beautiful to help you remember your kindness to me.”

In his gnarled and dirty hands he held the dish, Ma’s dish. The roses looked real enough to smell. Sarah Jane’s twenty-five pennies jingled in her pocket as she reached out to accept the gift from the peddler.