What Writers Can Review At The End Of 2018

Farewell To This Year

I suppose you might expect to see a New Year's Eve photo or a Welcome 2019 image. Nope. Today is December 31st, in the year 2018 but it is time to say farewell. Am I going to make New Year Resolutions? No. Will I look back or ahead? 

For the most part, I tend to dislike looking back and reviewing the year when we reach its end. In fact, it irritates me when the papers and news stations inundate us with what happened during the present year. They show us news about disasters, celebrities who passed away, numbers of homicides and who won in what sport. Yes, it all happened but it's over and done for me. I much prefer looking forward. More than once, I have mentioned one of my favorite quotes here:  Don't look back; that's not where you're going!

It makes me happy to turn the calendar to a new month. It feels fresh and new. I wonder what it will bring. Even so, as writers, there are some things from the twelve months of 2018 that we should look at--not to reminisce but to take stock and to learn, as well as prepare for the new year coming up.

We should review our writing records from January 2018 to December 2018. What do we want to look for?

• How many of the goals we set for this year did we accomplish?
• How many submissions did we make?
• How many of our submissions were accepted?
• How much money did we make from writing? 
• What regrets do we have in this year's writing journey?
• What joys came to us on our writing journey?
• Did we ever feel burned-out?
• What new writers did we connect with on social media or personally?
• How many books did we read--both for pleasure and to learn?
• What major writing project did we finish? Or did we finish one? Or start one?
• What did we do to grow as a writer?
• How did we increase our knowledge of writing? 
• Did we attend any conferences or writing groups?

It's wise to assess this year of our writing journey and then give thought to the goals we want to make for 2019. Next, say Farewell to 2018 with either a fond smile or an I'm glad that's over!

A Book For Writers and A Website, Too!

Today, I'd like to feature a book I read, cover to cover, last evening. The Write Spot:  Reflections is the third in a series of books meant to help writers and wannabe writers. In the introduction, editor Marlene Cullen, says:

    "If you want to write and don't know how to get started, this book is for you.  

    If you are a writer and feeling stuck, this book is for you.

    If you like reading a variety of writing for enjoyment, this book is for you."

The book is a collection of short stories, poems and vignettes to entertain but also to inspire writing. Each contributor includes a short bio and a few paragraphs on Why I Write after their writing contributions. I found some illuminating statements in the Why I Write sections. I also found so a great deal to enjoy in the offerings of the different authors.

At the end of each contributed story, poem or vignette, the prompt the writer used is given. The editor, Marlene Cullen, has a blog filled with prompts. She also uses prompts and freewriting in her writing workshops which she teaches in California. I would love to live close enough to attend. Even halfway across the country, I can benefit from the prompts on the blog. I found that reading the piece in the book and then the prompt was sometimes an 'aha' moment. Also a learning moment. I found myself thinking many times Look where this writer went with a simple little prompt. I thought about using the same prompts as the authors in the book had done for my own writing exercises. I think it would benefit any writer or wannabe writer to use the prompts for inspiration. 

Even non-writers, those who are readers only, would find some enjoyment in the variety of offerings in this book. If you're looking for inspiration to write, try this book.

I would also urge you to take a look at Marlene Cullen's website to learn more about her and to take advantage of the prompts she offers daily as well as a wonderful resource page where she lists blogs for writers (yours truly included), websites for writers and places to submit your writing. A true treasure trove for writers. 

The first two books in the series are:

  The Write Spot To Jumpstart Your Writing:  Discoveries

  The Write Spot To Jumpstart Your Writing:  Connections

   

   

Writers--Listen To Your Heart

A good many years ago, I submitted to a Chicken Soup for the Soul book for the first time. The story was a simple one, a childhood memory, that I thought might work for the Fathers and Daughters book. Maybe.

I hesitated to send it. Why? My pride told me it was impossible because rejection hurts a lot. Experience added that I hadn't been writing very long, and the Chicken Soup editors received hundreds, maybe even a thousand or more, submissions for each book. My chances were pretty slim. Reason stepped in and sneered at me as it said it was pointless to submit this story. What would it matter to the rest of the world? Then they laughed and I whimpered.

All three had ganged up on me, and then a funny thing happened. My heart whispered softly in my ear. Your story is something others can relate to. Go ahead and give it a try. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain. I pushed pride, experience and reason out the door. I liked what my heart told me.

I sent the story. Many months later, I received a notice that the story had made it to the finals. My heart did a happy dance. I waited a few weeks longer before learning that the story had made it into the book. What a thrill to hold the published book in my hand a few months later.

That story was "Love In A Box"  which is about a Valentine box my dad made for me when I was in the second grade. At age seven, I suddenly realized that my hardworking father truly loved me. That fact came as a startling discovery, one that left a life-long impression on me. Apparently, readers related to it and responded positively, so much so that the story has been published multiple times in English and some foreign languages.

What if I hadn't listened to my heart? What if I'd let those three bullies push me into a corner? Have you ever had a project that you wanted to submit somewhere but held back for one or more of the reasons above? What kept you from sending it? Were those three bullies---pride, experience and reason--invading your space, too?

Don't let them push you around. Remind yourself that you wrote a good story or poem or essay and that it deserves a chance. Get the submission ready, hit the Submit button and laugh at the three bullies. Listen to your heart. Your heart knows you better than those three twerps who try to place blocks in your way.

Remember this:  If you don't submit, you cannot be published.

Finding My Christmas Spirit in 1966

I wish you a MERRY CHRISTMAS!  The next post will be on Thursday, December 27th.

The story I have for you today is about the saddest Christmas I ever experienced. I share it not to seek sympathy. Instead, I am posting it to remind all of us that many spend Christmas in hospitals, with uncertainty in their lives, in poverty, fighting serious illness and more. I have always found that in all sadness and bad times there is some good and often a message if we can see it. The story was published two years ago in the December issue of The War Cry magazine.

Christmas Spirit—Lost and Found
By Nancy Julien Kopp

     The first Christmas commercial flicked across the TV screen in early December. My eyes were closed, head resting on the back of my chair, a cup of tea balanced on my lap, but I heard the tinkling of sleigh bells, the sound of carolers and laughter. I stayed still, wishing the joyful sounds away. I didn’t want to feel Christmas this year.
    I didn’t spend my days Christmas shopping or decorating the house or baking cookies. Instead, I read books about babies born with spina bifida, asked questions of doctors about hydrocephalus, and made phone calls to a hospital an hour away from our home to ask about the condition of our only child, born in November.
      It was 1966, and we didn’t have the option of staying with Julie at the large children’s hospital over an hour away from our home. When she was a few days old, we drove on icy roads to admit her after our pediatrician had made the arrangements. A paperwork snafu gave us four precious hours with her in the crowded waiting room before the clerk told us to go to fourth floor west where a nurse waited for us.
     Ken and I rode the elevator to the fourth floor and walked down a long corridor breathing in the hospital antiseptic odor. A white-uniformed woman walked toward us. She put her arms out to take our baby girl. As I placed Julie in this stranger’s arms, I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. I wanted to crumple in a heap. Instead, I looked into the nurse’s eyes, and we smiled at one another, woman to woman.
   She held Julie in the crook of one arm and smoothed the pink blanket with her free hand. “We’ll take good care of her.” She turned and proceeded down the long, empty hallway before I could make any farewell gesture to our sweet baby girl, before I could hold her close and inhale that special baby smell.
     Ken and I walked down the hall, hand in hand, too choked up to say a word.
     We returned a few days later to find that we could only view our daughter through a nursery window. She lay on her tummy so there’d be no pressure on the bulging tumor in the open area of her spine. She would soon have surgery to close the opening. Later, a shunt would be placed at the base of her brain to drain fluid. Farther down the road would be more surgery to straighten her legs in hopes that she might one day learn to walk on crutches, not a certainty, only a hope.
      I asked a nurse about the big wooden rocking chair that I noticed sitting in the nursery.
      “Oh, that’s for our hospital volunteers who come in to rock the babies. It’s nice to have a personal touch.”
     Why couldn’t it be me who rocked her? Why not a mother’s touch? But hospital rules in those days were stringent, and parents were discouraged from asking favors. The rocking chair appeared to be the one thing that didn’t scream institution. Bare walls, bare hallways, no color except in the waiting rooms. But that would soon change.
   I still didn’t care about Christmas, but the hospital volunteers must have signed on as Santa’s helpers. The next time we visited, the halls glowed with Christmas banners and
ribbons and small, decorated trees sat on tables in the waiting areas. The babies had dolls or toys tied to their cribs, a gift from the hospital auxiliary. The nurses wore Christmas pins on their uniforms, the green and red colors standing out on the snowy fabric. I chose to ignore these obvious signs of holiday spirit. When Christmas drew too close, I pushed it away.
     As we waited with other parents to talk to our child’s doctor, I wondered if these mothers were skipping Christmas this year, too. I’d probably go out soon and buy the necessary gifts for our parents and siblings, but it would be an obligation, not a joy as in past years.
     On Christmas Day, we stopped by the hospital before going to my parents’ home. By this time, Julie had been there for nearly four weeks and come through two surgeries. When the elevator doors opened onto the fourth floor that Christmas morning, holiday music played softly over unseen speakers. The melodic carols fairly floated down the long corridor. The banners and ribbons on the walls seemed brighter than they had on our other visits. A nurse passed by us with a “Merry Christmas” greeting, which I didn’t return.
     Julie was awake when we arrived at the nursery window. Still lying on her tummy, she raised her head and looked right at us with her big blue eyes.  I had a sudden vision of Mary and Baby Jesus looking at one another just like Julie and I were doing. The message was there for me. I needed Mary’s faith, needed to stop the sorrow and self-pity, needed to dwell on the positive strides Julie was making.
    Ken put his arm around me while we watched our little girl on her first Christmas morning. The music surrounded us, and I felt the ice around my heart crack and break into tiny bits as I let the spirit of Christmas warm me. I’d pushed it away with every bit of force I could muster, but today thoughts of Mary and her precious son took over. After all, wasn’t this what Christmas was all about? The birth of a child the world had waited for? Wouldn’t we want to teach the treasured story to our child one day, too?
    Shame for the way I’d tried to shut Christmas out of my life brought a single tear trickling down my cheek. I should have embraced this special holiday from the day I’d heard that first TV commercial. I needed the spirit of Christmas more this year than any other.
     We blew a kiss to our little girl and walked hand in hand to the elevator. I’d finally opened my heart to what Christmas had to offer when I found the spirit in the face of our baby girl. The carols sounded sweeter, the nurses cheerier, and the decorations more elegant. It would be a Christmas etched on my heart forever, the one when God and his holy angels spoke softly to me. (C)

Family Stories and Memoirs Need More Than the Facts

Pearl S. Buck is one of my favorite authors. I discovered her books when I was in high school while browsing the shelves at our local library. I don't remember which one of her many novels I read first but I know that she hooked me and I read another and another and more but not even half of her seventy published books. Most of her stories were about people in China where she grew up under the guidance of her missionary parents. Perhaps she wrote about the China of the past to understand her own present-day China.

Her quote above makes me think about those of us who write family stories, short memoir pieces or full-length memoir books. We reach back into our earlier life to find the material to write the stories. We want to preserve them for posterity but maybe we are also doing what Ms. Buck said. We might be delving into things that happened long ago to understand who and what and where we are today. We may only do it subconsciously but I think this is definitely one reason for writing about our 'memories.'

Keeping that thought in mind, here's something else to ponder. We can write a story about an event or a situation in our past. It's one way we save what went on long ago so that we can remember better and can share with family members or people who read your published work. We tell what happened, sometimes step by step or day by day. I don't think that's quite enough. 

Whether your write a memoir piece, family story, or personal essay, try to include what it meant to you. How did what happened affect you or change you? What kind of feelings did you have then and also now about the situation? Why did you remember the story?

Add something about what the story you wrote might mean to others--the ones who are featured in it and those who read it. Rather than make an out and out statement at the beginning or end, you can weave in your personal feelings and those of others in your story. These points will help you get your story published if that is your aim. It's the one item a personal essay must have--the reader wants to be able to know what you learned or to see a universal truth. It's what they seek in your family stories or memoirs, as well.

Consider a grandchild reading a family story you wrote. He/she appreciates learning about whatever happened within the family but they'd also like to know how you felt when the event happened, how it may have changed you in some way or how you came to appreciate someone or something. You have the perfect opportunity to teach a life lesson even when retelling a funny story about your great-uncle or your twin brother. 

If you delve back into your family history, you're very likely to understand the person you are today. 

Places To Read, Places To Write

I took the photo above a couple of years ago when we were visiting the Crystal Bridges Art Museum in Bentonville, AR. The Walton family built this spectacular art museum in a beautiful wooded area with ponds and trails. The picture is such a simple one but it intrigued me. I studied it for some time prior to snapping the photo. 

The woman is obviously snuggled in bed with her cat and a book. She must love her cat very much to allow it to snooze on her stomach and for her to have to hold her book aloft in order to read it. My question for you today has two parts. First...

Where is your favorite place to read? Do you like to read in bed as the woman in the picture? Or do you curl up in your favorite chair or the end of your sofa? Do you take a book outside in good weather and enjoy the natural surroundings, the birdsong, the breeze and the sunshine? Do you have a special window seat in your home that is the perfect spot to read the latest mystery or romance? My own favored place to read is in my leather chair, feet on a footstool with a cup of coffee or tea beside me. Maybe a lemonade in the summertime. Maybe you like to go to the Reading Room at your local library where it's quiet and no family members are around to disturb you. 

Where is your favorite place to write? I'm sure there are myriad answers to this question. One that comes to mind is the kitchen table, which is exactly where I wrote on an electric typewriter when I classified as a newbie, or wannabe writer. Some writers are fortunate enough to have an office in their home where they have a great set-up with everything a writer might need. The computer can stay on the desk. It doesn't need to be removed from a kitchen table so the family can eat. Others might claim a corner in the bedroom, or perhaps a place in the lower level of a home, maybe even an attic room. 

Still others leave their home and write in a public place like a coffeehouse or the coffee corner in a large bookstore. I live in a university community and our coffeehouses are filled with students with a laptop on the table, coffee next to it and maybe a snack. A few might go to the library to find a quiet corner where they can write in longhand in a notebook or on a laptop or tablet or even on their phone. Maybe you like to write outside on the beach or at a picnic table or on your patio. 

It really does not matter where you read or where you write. The place that is most comfortable for you is the one you'll likely choose over and over. The important thing is that you read and that you write. All good writers should do both. Whether you have a cat curled up on your stomach is entirely up to you, however.

NOTE:  Notice the simplicity of the picture. It needs no gew-gaws or objects or other people to draw the eye away from the main focus. When you write, simplicity often brings the strongest stories or essays. Too many frills cover up the good stuff! 

A Christmas Memory For Chocolate Lovers

I'd like to share a Christmas story today. It's one I had published in a Chicken Soup for the Soul book in 2013. Who doesn't love chocolate? All the stories in the book highlight chocolate in some way. My story is one that happened the Christmas I was in third grade. My dear mother told the story many times over the years and then I wrote it.

Do you have a special Christmas memory? Have you written about it? Why or why not? Many of those special moments in life can end up as a published story, or even another one to put in your Family Memories book.

Here is my story. I hope you enjoy it.  The picture is me at about age 10, although I must have been 8 at the time the story happened.

Nancy 

A Spoonful of Fudge

Spiral back in time with me to a mid-December day in 1948 and relive one of my treasured memories. With our teacher’s guidance, my third-grade class planned the Christmas party, which would be held on our final day before the holiday break. Our classroom already looked festive thanks to a live Christmas tree decorated with our artwork. Cut-out paper snowflakes adorned the tall windows, and in free time we’d made construction paper chains which we used to decorate every available space in the room.

But now the most important part of getting ready was upon us. Miss Marshak asked for volunteers to bring Christmas napkins, cookies, and punch.

 “Now what else would be good to have at the party?” she asked.

A boy in the last row hollered, “Fudge!”

At his one-word answer, I sat up straight and waved my hand in the air. When Miss Marshak did not call on me immediately, I bounced up and down in my chair and gestured furiously.

 “Yes, Nancy,” she finally said.

“I’ll bring the fudge. My mother makes the best fudge in the world.” My mouth watered at the thought of the creamy, rich chocolate candy my entire family loved.

I could hardly wait to get home and tell my mother that I’d volunteered to bring fudge for the party. She’d be so excited to share her special fudge with all my classmates. I barely felt the cold December air as I hurried along the six blocks from school to our apartment building. My feet scarcely touched the stairs as I sailed up the three flights to our door.

Mother stopped peeling potatoes when I burst into the kitchen. I announced the great news, but I didn’t get the reaction I’d expected. Her face paled. “Fudge? Isn’t there something else you can bring?”

“No. Other people signed up for the rest.” My excitement deflated like a pricked balloon.
What could be wrong?

Mother shrugged, picked up the potato peeler and said, “It’s all right. I’ll make the fudge.”

The December days slid by, one by one. I helped Mother put up our Christmas decorations. Dad took my brothers and me to pick out a tree, and Mother spent her days wrapping packages and baking special cookies and Christmas cakes. At school, we practiced for our part in the all-school musical program, read Christmas stories in reading time and created our own in Language Arts period. Giggles got louder as Christmas surrounded us.

Finally, the day before the party arrived. Our teacher went over a checklist to make sure everyone remembered what they were to bring the next day. How could I forget? I’d thought about the chocolaty, wonderful fudge Mother would make every day. I could almost taste its smoothness and the lingering sweetness it left.

When I got home that afternoon, my baby brother was crying, and Mother looked about to cry along with him. “What’s wrong?” I asked. My worry centered not on the baby or my mother but on the fudge.

Mother sank into a kitchen chair. “I’ve made three batches of fudge today, and none of them worked. They’re all too soft. I can’t send it to school.”

I had no idea why she was so disturbed. Fudge was always soft and gooey. We spooned it up every time we had it. “Why?” was all I could think to say.

“Nancy,” my mother said, “fudge is not meant to be eaten with a spoon. It should be firm enough to pick it up in a piece and pop into your mouth. I beat and beat it, but it’s like it always is when I make it. Too soft. And I made it three times today!”

Tears welled in her eyes, and my baby brother reached up and patted her cheek. Maybe even he knew how bad she felt. How could I bring the fudge to school? I loved my mother’s fudge, but maybe nobody else would. Maybe they’d laugh when they saw it. I worked up my courage and asked, “What are we going to do?”

The next morning, I carried a big pan of fudge and 21 spoons to school.

 The soft candy was the hit of the party. After we had our punch and cookies, everyone gathered around the cake pan of fudge, spoon in hand, and dug in. My fears were never realized. One of the boys licked his spoon and said, “You were right. Your mom does make the best fudge in the world.” Echoes of agreement sounded around the circle. We dipped our spoons for more.

Some years later, Mother began to make a new fudge recipe that contained marshmallow crème. The ads promised it was foolproof--firm fudge every time. They were right, but the spoonfuls of soft fudge we’d eaten all those years before remained my favorite, and I never forgot how my mother found a solution to what might have been my biggest third-grade disaster. It wasn't only fudge she'd given me that December day.

Develop Your Writer's Eye

What kind of eyes do you have?

We spent the weekend with our son and his family in Dallas, Texas. As Ken drove us home today, I had plenty of time to view the world along I-35 with my writer's eye. Things I might normally have paid no attention to captured my attention today. 

We were about 30 miles south of Oklahoma City with the wide open spaces on either side of the highway. Cars whizzed by going south or north. We happened to be in an area where there were no billboards, no highway signs, no road work signs. All we could see was grassland with nothing on it, not a building in sight. Suddenly, a figure of a man appeared. He was standing very erect with his back to the highway, staring across that empty plain. He was nicely dressed in jeans and a brown western style jacket with fringe on the bottom, also western boots. His hair was full but neatly cut. There was no vehicle on the shoulder of the road. It appeared he had dropped from the sky.

My writer's eye kicked in and long after we'd passed him.  I began to ask silent questions. Who was he? Why was he standing so still watching what appeared to be nothing? How did he get there? How was he going to get home, or wherever he came from? Did he walk a long way to get there? Did someone drop him off? So many questions and the only answers were one I needed to create. What a great beginning for a story. Or even a scene within a story. Or for a character sketch. Describing a man from the back view could be challenging and interesting. That man and those questions stayed with me for a long time today.

Many miles farther on, we were once again in a rather desolate area with no buildings or signs or people around--other than the cars and trucks barreling down the highway. I spied an empty car on the side of the road. It sat there abandoned, driver's window partially open. My writer's eye took it in and the mental questions began. Who left the car there? Why? How long had it been there? Was the driver in the area? Or had he/she been taken somewhere else in another vehicle? Once again, the situation, minor as it was, could be incorporated into a story or set the scene for the opening of a story--no doubt a mystery story!

Do you use your writer's eye when you are out and about your daily tasks? Do you stop when you see someone or something that makes you think of writing? What about overhearing a conversation on a subway train or in a Starbucks or while in a bookstore browsing? Does your writer's eye kick in when you come across those situations? 

If you're a memoir writer, you can use your writer's eye to see situations that are comparable to what you are writing in your book-length memoir or short memoir piece. Sometimes, seeing triggers memories from the deep recesses of your mind. Memoirists need to use the writer's eye, too. 

Those who write children's picture books must pay attention to all children, their activities and conversations, their observations, their laughter and their tears for inspiration for a new picture book. Their writer's eye should be wide open whenever they are around children.

How do you acquire a writer's eye? I think you must train yourself to look at all things with writing in mind. Make a specific effort to use a writer's eye on a once-in-a-while basis. For instance, the next time you go to the theater, watch the people around you at the ticket window, the lobby, even in the restroom.  Ask yourself questions that might help you create a character or a situation or a conversation to be used when you write. Do it off and on and you will begin to do it unconsciously. Before you know it, you'll be using your writer's eye everywhere you go. 

You might be concerned that you will forget what you saw before you can write about it or use it in a scene of a chapter. That's why so many writers carry a small notebook with them wherever they go. Jot down the basics to use later. 

If you don't already have a trained writer's eye, start working on it. Then keep it as long as you are a part of the writing world. 

I'm going to a luncheon tomorrow. I know that, when I walk into the restaurant, my writer's eye will scan the crowd and pick out the few who look like someone that could be a character in a story. It's just the way I am. As for the man in western dress that I saw this morning--I'm still going to wonder a whole lot of things about him and I have no doubt that he will appear somewhere in something I write someday. 

Writers Need Organization

NOTE:  I am going to be out of town for a long weekend. Next new post will be Tuesday, the 18th.

How many times have you heard someone say Do you have all your ducks in a row? This photo certainly illustrates the saying. 

But what about that question? DO you have all your ducks in a row when it comes to your writing life? Are you organized in the way you write, in how you file your drafts and finished pieces? How about the marketing game? Got your ducks in a row there? Do you keep records of your submissions? 

What about your desk or wherever you write? Ducks all in a row there? (I'd hate for you to see what is spread across my computer desk next to my laptop!) I read somewhere that people who have a messy room are very intelligent. When my kids were teenagers, they must have been brilliant if their rooms were any real measure. OK, having a messy work area might not be as important as the items mentioned in the preceding paragraph. 

Some of you are probably wondering why it's important to be organized--ie getting your ducks in a row. For one thing, it's a whole lot easier to find things. And, keeping good records allows you to track a submission and know in a flash what date you submitted, what the response was, if published or not. 

Do you dump your drafts and finished pieces in an overall document fil?. Or do you make separate folders for drafts and ones you feel are complete? How about your writing process? Do you have a certain method to write a piece? By sections or all at once? Write the ending first and then what leads up to it? 

There's nothing wrong with being a creature of habit. We'll never feel like we're floundering in a sea of what's first or last. Developing good writing habits will make your writing journey a lot easier. We're approaching a new year. It's the perfect time to get your ducks in a row. How about giving it a try? 

A Question For Writers

How long have you been thinking about writing the first chapter of a new book? Has it been months, or even years, that you've considered writing your Family Stories? Are the beginning lines of a poem swirling in your head but never seem to get written as a full poem? Have you thought about trying your hand at writing but just never seem to get around to it? Is there an essay on a traumatic event you experienced that you've wanted to write, but...?

The wannabe writer thinks about getting started but something holds them back. Fear, lack of self-confidence, unable to create time to do it--any or all of these may be the reason. But, if they don't do it now, when will they?

Those of us who have been writing for years seem to be able to put things off with no guilt. I find that the longer I delay on a new project, the easier it is to keep delaying. I've learned that, if I have an idea for a new story or poem, I'd better jump on it or it might never get accomplished.

When an idea or inspiration for a new project throws itself in front of us, that's the time to act. If you don't do it now, when will it happen? The longer you let the idea dangle like the carrot in front of the donkey, the harder it will be to get started.

How many of you have wanted to write a book of your Family Stories but it's never been more than a lovely thought that dips and swirls through your mind now and then? If not now, when? When will it happen? Or maybe we should ask ourself--Will it ever happen?

How about that first draft that you've slipped into a file and left there for weeks, maybe months? Will it ever get edited? Is it going to be submitted someday or will it gather dust while you move on to something else? Do you have an unfinished book manuscript squirreled away in a file but have never gotten around to trying to market it to a publishing house? 

I've posed a lot of questions. Do you have the answers or will you continue the delay or postpone or forget-it process? Sure, it's sometimes scary to work on these projects when we don't know all the answers, when we aren't sure it's a worthwhile project or when we're not certain if we should try our hand at writing at all. 

Whatever the situation for you, ask yourself the question that our poster states If not now, when?

Include The Sense Of Smell In Your Writing

Joyful Smells

The sense of smell is one we sometimes take for granted. We smell hundreds of things on a daily basis; some of them we aren't even aware of. Others assail our noses with pleasure and also those that make us cringe a bit.  Our memory bank is filled with smells of the past and the present. 

When we write fiction, memoir or creative non-fiction, we're often told to be sure and include some sensory details. Doing so brings your story alive and offers something readers can relate to. Regarding the sense of smell, don't we all remember and know the smell of bread baking or gasoline at the service station or coffee brewing? We're aware of the good aromas and the putrid smells, as well. 

If you wrote Gina smelled the flowers., your reader knows what Gina is doing but doesn't know what she is feeling or experiencing as she dips her nose into the flowers. If you wrote, Gina brought the bouquet to her nose, closed her eyes and inhaled the sweet scent, which tickled her nose. She spiraled back to her grandmother's flower garden in England where the aroma of the many blooms permeated the air as if someone had sprayed a perfume mister over the area. In this passage, we get a better picture of Gina as she smells the flowers and we learn what memory the scent triggered. It might also trigger some memory for the reader.

Look at the list below. Write a short passage for each showing the smell and what memory it triggered for you (or a memory you think might be triggered for others.)  

• A real Christmas tree
• Candles
• Chicken Soup simmering on the stove
• Popcorn popping
• Ashes in the fireplace
• A full trash can on a summer day
• Newly mowed grass
• A hog farm
• A bouquet of flowers
• Bubblegum
• A wet dog

When the How-To-Write books tell you to add sensory details such as the sense of smell, they don't mean that you should just tell the reader that the character smelled something. Let them see how the character acts and reacts. It's a simple thing--rather minimal in the overall scope of good writing. Pay attention to a whole raft of simple things like this and your writing will improve.

Paying To Enter Writing Contests

How much of this will you spend...

....for a chance at this?

I've been looking at writing contest submission guidelines off and on the past few months. They appear to fall into two groups--those you enter for free and the ones that require a fee to submit. Generally, the contests that ask for money to enter offer bigger prizes. 

It's a no-brainer when you enter a contest that has no fee. You have spent nothing, so you lose nothing. You've taken a chance that your submission will place. But what about those contests that only accept submissions accompanied by whatever they want to charge? I've seen entry fees of $3 up to $750. Yes, I did see that big one just the other day. With that fee, you received feedback. Seems like pretty expensive feedback to me. 

Are you willing to submit to a contest when you have to pay to enter? What about magazines and ezines that charge a reading fee? Will you submit your work to them? Is it worth doing? This post is about contest entry fees but reading fees might be a sub-topic.

I'm a relatively frugal person. Raised by Depression-era parents, I learned to be careful with money. That said, I have paid to enter contests but not very many. I do pay to enter my state authors organization annual contest. The fee is minimal and it is one way I can support the group. I paid $15 to enter a creative nonfiction contest earlier this year. Didn't win, didn't get feedback. Bye-bye $15. 

If you enter contests and do so multiple times in one year, how do you justify the expense? It could depend on whether you won in any of the contests. If you get some return, then you're going to feel it's worth spending the dollars. If you enter a variety of contests repeatedly and win nothing, you're in the hole. 

Each writer has to decide whether to take the chance. It might depend on how much extra cash you have at your disposal. Or on how good you feel about your entry. If you feel you have written something really special, it might be well worth spending those few dollars to enter. 

I would suggest you keep track of what you spend entering contests (or paying reading fees) on an annual basis. At the end of the year, tally your expenses and the outcome. You might 'allow' yourself X dollars for entering contests, just like some people who frequent casinos set a certain dollar amount to gamble.

Personally, I will pay an entry fee for a limited number of contests but I absolutely refuse to pay a reading fee so that I can submit my work to an editor. A reading fee is one of my writing world pet peeves. 

There are plenty of no-fee-to-enter contests. I've seen a couple different newsletters that divide the notice of contests into free-to-enter and the ones that cost. Again, the prize amounts may differ widely. Many contests accrue the prize money through the fees charged to enter. That, I understand. 

Contest entry fees are reasonable but you'll find many that require $20, $30, $35 and more. It wouldn't take more than a few contests to find yourself out a lot of money. Determining which ones are worthwhile to enter is rather tricky, I think. 

How do you feel about paying an entry fee for contest submissions? How about having to send a reading fee to submit your work to an editor? I'd like to get some opinions on this. 

Sugar Cookies, The Recipe and A Short Memory Piece

Sugar Cookies

I started my Christmas baking yesterday. Saturday I gathered my recipes and made two different kinds on Sunday. Everyone in our family has a favorite. I happen to adore a good sugar cookie and, over the years, I've tried many different recipes. I always come back to my favorite found many decades ago in a Betty Crocker cookbook. What's different in this recipe is the sugar used in the dough is confectioner's (or powdered) instead of granulated sugar and it uses both vanilla and almond flavoring. I think it makes a more tender cookie. You can decorate with sugar, white or colored, or cool and frost. 

Make a batch using a variety of cookie cutters, then make up small plates or boxes of the cookies to give to friends or neighbors. Next--this is where the writing part comes in--write a short memory piece about your cookies including how long you've been making them, where you found the recipe, why they are favorites and any other small bits of information about the cookie or how you make it. You can use any one of your own favorite recipes to do this. 

Wouldn't it be special to take your friends or neighbors a treat that included a short piece of writing to go with it? You might relate how your children use to help, what disasters were created in the kitchen when they were the helpers. Don't forget to include the recipe! Suddenly, you have a gift and a short memoir piece, as well.

I'm going to share my favorite sugar cookie recipe with you. When I looked it up online, I read some of the reviews and they ranged from one star to 5 stars. The majority were 5 stars. Sometimes, I need to make a recipe two or three times to get it just right and maybe those one-star people didn't try a second time.

Mary's Sugar Cookies
Ingredients

1 1/2 cups powdered sugar
1cup butter or margarine, softened
1 teaspoon vanilla
1/2 teaspoon almond extract
1 egg
2 1/2 cups Gold Medal™ all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon cream of tartar
Granulated sugar or colored sugar

Steps

1. Mix powdered sugar, butter, vanilla, almond extract and egg in large bowl. Stir in remaining ingredients except granulated sugar. Cover and refrigerate at least 2 hours.

2.  Heat oven to 375ºF. Lightly grease cookie sheet.

3. Divide dough in half. Roll each half 1/4 inch thick on lightly floured surface. Cut into desired shapes with 2- to 2 1/2-inch cookie cutters. Sprinkle with granulated sugar. Place on cookie sheet.

4. Bake 7 to 8 minutes or until edges are light brown. Remove from cookie sheet. Cool on wire rack.

(Can leave off the sugar and frost when cooled. When I frost them, I roll them out just a bit thicker)

The Plethora of Bells in Writing and in Songs

Bells play a part in our lives and have been a part of many stories and songs written over the years. Think of the bells we hear frequently or know about--class dismissal bells, church bells, Salvation Army bells, alarm bells, bells to call servants, sleigh bells, horse harness bells, the Liberty Bell, appliance bells, church bell choirs, and more. We associate certain bells with times in our lives and what they mean to us.

Writers use bells, too, They help add sensory detail to our writing. We see and hear them and touch them. We note different tones in bells from the tinkle of tiny bells to the sonorous boom of the huge bells in church towers. They can also help a writer show a sense of place or time. Consider what the bells outside on a cold night might feel like.

Look at the poem below written by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow during the Civil War after he had received bad news about his soldier son. I have highlighted all the words that deal with the sound of the bells.

Christmas Bells (later the song I Heard The Bells On Christmas Day)

I HEARD the bells on Christmas Day Their old, familiar carols play, and wild and sweet The words repeat Of peace on earth, good-will to men! And thought how, as the day had come, The belfries of all Christendom Had rolled along The unbroken song Of peace on earth, good-will to men! Till ringing, singing on its way, The world revolved from night to day, A voice, a chime, A chant sublime Of peace on earth, good-will to men! Then from each black, accursed mouth The cannon thundered in the South, And with the sound The carols drowned Of peace on earth, good-will to men! It was as if an earthquake rent The hearth-stones of a continent, And made forlorn The households born Of peace on earth, good-will to men! And in despair I bowed my head; "There is no peace on earth," I said; "For hate is strong, And mocks the song Of peace on earth, good-will to men!" Then pealed the bells more loud and deep: "God is not dead, nor doth He sleep; The Wrong shall fail, The Right prevail, With peace on earth, good-will to men."


Consider the many songs with 'bells' in the titles--Jingle Bells, Jingle Bell Rock and more. If you would like to see a list of 50 songs using 'bells' in the title, check here. A simple thing--bells--but look at how often they have been featured by writers and poets and lyricists.

As an exercise, write a paragraph or two depicting bells, their sound, their meaning to you and more. 

Naming Your Characters

Before I begin today's post, I'd like to take time to thank the several new Followers received the past few weeks. The purpose of this blog is to share what I know about the writing world and to encourage other writers. Seeing the list of Followers grow makes me know I am doing some good. I am happy to say that my number of readers far exceeds the number of Followers. It is the Followers who have taken a few moments of their time to sign on showing their appreciation of what they read here. So, my thank you to all of you. 

Note:  There were several interesting comments on yesterday's post. If you're interested, scroll down to it and read them.

Now, on with today's post. I've said many times that it's the little things that make your writing more interesting and stronger. One of them is the names you give your characters when writing fiction or the names you make up in a memoir to protect friends and family members. (Note: many memoir writers use real names but some change them)

Naming your characters may seem like a small thing but I think it has some bearing on the story. We also want to use names that will stay with the reader or make some kind of impression on them. Think about some of the Fairy Tales and children's stories you've read as a child and still remember today. Look at a few of the names:

• Alice
• Cinderella
• Heidi
• Hansel
• Gretel
• Dorothy
• Toto
• Huckleberry
• Pinocchio
• Belle

Some of them depict the country they were from. Ones like Belle are words from another language. Belle is French for beauty. Cinderella combines two things--the cinders the girl had to deal with in her life and then, the common name (then) of Ella. Pinocchio is Italian, Hansel, Gretel and Heidi are German or Swiss. Dorothy appears to be a common girl's name at the time the story was written. Her dog, Toto gives us some alliteration and is easy for a child to say. How about Huckleberry? Humorous and definitely memorable.

Will you name your villains the same type of names as the protagonist? Probably not. You'll want to make the villain as disagreeable in every way including his/her name. If you have a protagonist who is a beautiful girl, you'll probably select a pretty name, one that has a positive connotation for the readers. Isabella is a name that trips off the tongue and appears to be quite lovely. Perfect for that beautiful girl.

When I wrote my middle-grade novel based on my grandfather's life, I didn't use his name, which happened to be Alex. Instead, the name Will popped into my head as I started writing. All the names in the story just came to me. I didn't have to ponder on it at all. It doesn't always happen that way but can. If so, consider yourself blessed.

I've read that some authors use a Baby Names booklet or list to find names for their characters. I doubt the name Sherlock, as in Sherlock Holmes, would be found in a Baby Names list unless in England where it was a more common name. It was thought that Arthur Conan Doyle, the author, had originally selected another name but changed it because of a popular cricket player in England at the time. Maybe many writers use names of sports people or celebrities or anyone they admire. 

Perhaps, some writers use the name of a best friend as a tribute to them., although it's hoped the name would not be used for the villain but, rather, the hero. 

Consider the ease of pronouncing the name when you choose one. I have read a few books where I had no idea how to pronounce the name of the protagonist. To me, that seems a poor choice as you should want your reader to be able to say that name mentally as they read. 

Give thought to the time period you are writing about. Choose names that fit that time of history or present day. I once wrote a children's story that a critiquer suggested I change the name as it seemed too 'old-fashioned.'

Do any of you have specific ways you select names for your characters? How about you memoir writers? Do you change the names of the people in your memoir, or do you give them different names? 

Different Writing Journeys

Kaye Curren was a guest blogger here a few weeks ago. This morning, I read a post she wrote for another blog. She detailed her writing journey. You can read it here. I started thinking about how I began my writing journey and then about the way rest of the writers I know and those whom I have not met got started writing. 

I think we all began our writing journey in different ways. Many have the desire to write long before trying it. They had a delay for various reasons. I had always wanted to write but let Life get in the way. I was in my mid-fifties before Life smacked me and I chose to take a correspondence course on writing for children as a solution. Ever heard that old adage Out of all bad things comes some good? For me, that was certainly true. From this side of the fence, I know that the miserable situation I found myself in was the catalyst for my finally becoming a writer. I'm eternally grateful.

My oldest granddaughter, Alexis, wanted to be a writer from childhood on. I credit a primary grade teacher she had who taught her students to journal on a daily basis. I have a feeling that was what sparked Alexis's love for writing. She was a copy editor, then writer for her college newspaper. Now, she is in grad school but still writes when she can. She will be an English teacher when she finishes graduate school and she will teach middle school English with an emphasis on creative writing. I'm so glad she pursued her writing far sooner than I did.

Some of you began writing when only a teen. Others waited until they had experienced a lot of other things in life before becoming a writer. Remember this--even if you haven't published but write, you are a writer. Some feel that publication allows you to say I am a writer. Anyone who writes can proudly say I am a writer. If you've never said it out loud, stand before a mirror and say it to your image several times. Then, try saying it to someone else. Take quiet pride in saying it. 

A longtime friend, teacher and artist, always asked me if I'd written my book yet. In his mind, I wasn't a writer until I had written and published a book. That's so wrong. There are so many other types of writing besides writing a book. 

How many of you have written an essay or short memoir piece about how you got started as a writer? Wouldn't an anthology filled with stories of how people began writing be a great inspiration to new writers? 

Some of us begin writing at an early age while others waited until fifty or more. I wrote an article many years ago about people who began writing after age fifty. They were all people I knew personally. What impressed me was that, despite a myriad number of reasons for waiting so long, they all overcame whatever had held them back and could finally call themselves a writer. 

We all walked different paths to become writers. The best part of the journey is that we persevered and can call ourselves writer.

A Nudge From A Fine Writer

Joyce Finn

Joyce Finn is the moderator of my online writing group. We call her Mother Hen. She keeps track of the group and keeps us in line. She also encourages us as writers. A couple of days ago, she sent a lengthy email about our subs and critiques and other housekeeping topics for the group. As I read the email, a piece of gold emerged in one short section. It was a reminder to us to take time to write and why we write. I loved it so much that I asked Joyce if I might quote her in a blog post. She readily agreed. 

Joyce Finn said: 

This is a reminder to write if you haven’t had time and to remember that writing is your own special private time. Writing also tickles unique places in our brains that don’t get used otherwise. Plus, it documents who we are at this specific moment in our lives…which, as you all know is fleeting. All of life is fleeting, as are possessions and relationships. Write to mark your territory. Document who you are this instant. I have 3 essays I’m dying to write… so this nudge is for me too.

There's a lot to ponder in those few short sentences. I think Joyce could expand this and have a fine essay for a writer's magazine. She begins by reminding us that we should write whether we have the time or not. I especially liked the bit about remembering that when we write, it is our own special time. Think about that the next time you sit down to write. That time is all yours, no other person can claim it. Makes it rather special, doesn't it?

Next, she mentions that writing uses parts of our brain that otherwise would not get used. Interesting, is it not? I particularly liked her wording--...tickles the unique places... 

Then she gives thought to why we are writers, what it does for us. She says that it 'documents who we are at this specific moment in our lives.' As the years go by and we continue to write we are not the same person. As our lives change, so does our writing.  Joyce tells us next to write to 'mark your territory' to 'Document who you are at this instant.'  I agree that our writing defines who we are.

She finishes by telling us that she is giving herself a nudge to write as well as those who are reading what she said. Joyce Finn is a wonderful group moderator and a fine writer but her quote also lets us know she is a wise woman. Let her words give you a little nudge, too.

Memories of Special Gifts Make Good Stories

Here we are in the last month of the year and one of the busiest. I went to a Christmas party Friday evening and a Christmas Tea at my church Saturday. Definitely getting me in the mood for the season. 

One of the things the hostess of the Tea did was ask each person to tell about a Christmas gift that was very special at some time in our life. What a delight it was to listen to the 25-30 women  detail the time and circumstance and the gift. 

Stories ranged from engagement rings to dolls to pets and a few other things. So many prefaced the story by mentioning that there were very few presents given in their family when they were children because money was short. One woman told us about the Christmas her parents had no money for gifts so her mother made each child something from whatever she had on hand. This woman had received twin rag dolls that turned out to be one of her very favorite gifts ever. 

As the memories came alive, I couldn't help but wonder if any of these women had written the story somewhere for her family. Had she ever even told her own children or grandchildren about that special gift? It's precious memories like this that should--no, must--be recorded. As we moved from woman to woman and listened to their memories, I thought that many of them could turn into a story for a Chicken Soup for the Soul book. But would they? Most doubtful. 

I wanted to tell each one that they had a great story and I'd write it for them. But, no, that would not be the thing to do. She should do it on her own.

How about you? What Christmas, or Hanukkah, memories have you written about for your family or for publication? Why or why not? There are reasons for both sides. I did write a memory of a special gift I received when I was six years old. It was published in one of the Chicken Soup for the Soul Christmas books quite a few years ago. I'll post it below. Maybe it will trigger a holiday memory for you and give you something to write about for your own family or for another Christmas anthology.

********************************************************************************

My Special Christmas Doll

A special doll named Katherine lives in my four-year-old granddaughter’s room. The doll perches on the window seat, arms out and head cocked a bit. Muted red polish covers her fingernails, and a few of her fingers and toes are chipped. The doll’s dark blonde hair could use a bit of attention, for it looks limp and badly in need of a stylist.

 “This was my mommy’s doll,” Jordan tells me.

I pick up the doll, smooth the flower-print flannel gown she wears. “A long time ago, she belonged to me.” I give Katherine a little hug and place her on the window seat again.

Jordan grasps my hand. “I know that, Grandma. Will you tell me about her?”

I scoop Jordan into my arms. “Time for bed now, but maybe tomorrow we’ll talk about Katherine.” I tuck her into bed and kiss her twice. 

Later that evening, I sip a cup of tea and think about the doll Santa brought me more than sixty years ago. The decades slip away like quicksilver, and I am six years old again. My parents and little brother are asleep, still snuggled under warm comforters, but I’m tip-toeing down the hallway early on Christmas morning. It’s so quiet and very dark in the hallway, but I know my destination and continue on.

When I reach the living room, the early morning light filters through the windows. I kneel in front of the decorated Christmas tree, and a little shiver runs up my spine. It’s cold in our apartment, but the shiver comes from what I spy next to the gaily wrapped packages. Santa left me a beautiful doll looking very much like Shirley Temple. She’s dressed in a bridal gown made of a snowy, gossamer material. Tiny satin rosettes run from waist to hem, and lace adorns the neckline and sleeves. The matching veil, trimmed in lace, surrounds her head like a billowy cloud. A white nightgown and soft blue robe lie beside her. It’s the kind seen only in the movies. So pretty! Her dark blonde hair curls to perfection, and her eyes appear to glow. I inch as close as I dare, for I know I should not touch her yet, not until Mommy and Daddy wake up. For now, the anticipation of holding her seems to be enough. I name her Katherine while I wait for my family to wake up.

Years later, I learned that my mother had made the bridal gown and night clothes for the doll in the late hours on December nights. My grandmother was the one who took

hair she’d saved from my mother’s first haircut to a specialty shop where they created a wig for my doll. Hearts and hands joined in this special gift.

I played with Katherine for many years, then saved her in hopes I might pass my special doll to a daughter someday. My daughter, Karen, loved the doll too, even though she no longer had the original clothes. Once again, Katherine made a little girl happy. Karen secreted the doll away in hopes that she, too, could pass her on to her own child someday. Now, Karen’s daughter, Jordan, is the keeper of the doll. Though a bit tattered, Katherine’s smile is just as sweet, and her blue eyes still appear to shine. Even her wilted curls are precious to me and to Karen.

I think one day Jordan will feel the same, for she is our special family doll and always will be. I will tell my granddaughter about the Christmas I found Katherine under the tree, and later, when she’s older, I will relate the part of the story about Jordan’s great-grandmother who made special clothes for Katherine, and about her great-great-grandmother who saved her child’s hair to make into a wig for a doll.

This one cherished doll holds five generations of my family within her heart. Two created her, three have played with her, and all have loved her. I hope Jordan will have a daughter one day so that this chain of love might continue.