Writers--Look Back at Your 2022

 

This is the last post for the year 2022. Sunday, we step into a brand new year--365 days ahead of us. What lies down that long road? What do we see if we look back at all of 2022? 

Newspapers and tv news stations spend the last week of the year looking back to what occurred, both the good and the bad. It feels sometimes like there is more bad than good with all the world problems.

But, what about your writing journey in 2022? Now is the time to look at the goals you made for yourself way last January when 2022 was brand spanking new. Did you achieve all of them? Pat yourself on the back if you did/ Very few of us manage to have a perfect record in goals. Did you make more than half? If you did, be happy. 

If you didn't make even one of your goals this past year, it's time to do some soul-searching. Try to be objective, and that's not easy when old #1 is involved. Stand back and look at what you didn't achieve as if you were looking at a perfect stranger. It's a lot easier to see the faults and hindrances in someone else than yourself. 

A few reasons we don't make our goals:  

A. Set too many goals

B. Set unrealistic goals

C. Didn't care

D. Didn't put in the amount of time needed

E. Didn't try to continue learning our craft

F. Didn't bother to submit anything you wrote

G. Felt discouraged on a frequent basis

Use this list when you make your 2023 goals. Turn some of these negatives into positives. 

Besides goals, take a look at your submission/acceptance/rejection record. Hopefully, you've kept a record and can do this easily. If you didn't, make that one of your 2023 goals. Records of all our writing transactions are important. It shows us where we were, where we are, and where we need to go. If your rejections far outnumber your acceptances, don't despair. That's quite normal in our writing world. Some say that a 10% acceptance rate is pretty normal. As bad as that sounds, it's probably about right. If you get more than that, preen your feathers a bit. 

Whether your track record was good or bad in 2022, it's yours. Yours to ponder. Yours to work on. Yours to accept or reject. After you've done your 2022 assessment, it's time to take that first step on the 2023 writing path. Stand there a bit and start putting together a plan for this next year. 

I look forward to changing the page on my calendar each month, and when it begins a whole new year, even more so. My wish for all writers is that 2023 will be a banner year, one in which you achieve a great deal. It takes patience and perseverance and some hard work to do so. Ever onward!

Four Little Words of Advice for Writers

 

Today's poster uses four simple words to propel us into action. At least, that is the intent. 

We humans are very good at procrastination. We can put things off at the drop of a pin. Something more inviting comes along, and we put our latest writing project aside. The thought is that it will be there when we're ready to work on it again. Yes, it will be. But how long will it be before that day arrives?

I'm a do it now person, and for good reason. I find that, if I put something off, it's very easy to let it sit, not return to work on it. When something comes up that I think I should take care of, I do it as soon as possible. That way, I know it gets done, and I don't have it hanging over my head either. 

Have you had a great idea for a story pop into your head but that's where it stays? You think about it off and on, but you don't start actually writing. Oh, you might add bits and pieces mentally, but that's as far as it goes. From my experience, you'd better pounce when the idea is fresh, start writing. At least, get the first draft written. Wait too long, and some of the small things disappear. Wait too long, and you might never write the story. Wait too long, and other things interfere. Wait too long, and your enthusiasm wanes. 

If you're a prose writer but have always wanted to try your hand at poetry, why wait. If not now, when? If you're a poet, but you have the urge to write a fiction short story, why wait? If not now, when? If you're an essayist who feels the burning desire to write a novel, why wait? If not now, when? 

An old adage seems to fit this topic. "Time waits for no man.' (or woman!) 

This is another one of those 'it's up to you' situations. There seem to be a lot of them as you move down the path on your writing journey. We need to remind ourselves that we cnose this path. No one forced us to become a writer.

Perhps, 'If not now, when?' could be your mantra for 2023. Four little words that might spur you into having the best year of writing ever. 

Book Review: Ann of Sunflower Lane

 Ann of Sunflower Lane by Julie A. Sellers is a YA book geared toward girls in the mid-teens. This senior citizen thoroughly enjoyed the story of a young girl who ends up on a Kansas farm in 1989 when a court in Denver decrees that her grandparents should take temporary custody, Her father travels around the country with small bands, neglecting his duty as a single parent. 

Ann Alwyn goes to live with her maternal grandparents whom she has never known. Ann's mother died when she was born leaving her to be raised by an often-absent father and an older step-sister. She knows very little about her mother and even less about her grandparents. 

Ann is about to turn 16 and a Junior in high school when she comes to the farm for a short visit, or so she hopes. Her grandfather is a kind man who tries to make her comfortable. Grandma is a bit bristly and hard to please, full of rules. The biggest and hardest rule to follow is 'no boys.' 

Grandpa gives Ann a copy of Anne of Green Gables, one of her mother's books that had been saved. Ann falls in love with everything about this other Anne, the one with an 'e' and quotes the books frequently. She meets two teens on the next farm. Corrie is a year younger than Ann and also a devotee to the Anne of Green Gables books. She and Ann become 'bosom friends.' Her brother, Cameron is a year older than Ann, and she does all she can to avoid him, fearing her grandmother's wrath. 

The book follows a year in Ann's life in Kansas, where she expected to stay only a few weeks. Her father becomes more and more distant, and Ann finds that talk about her mother's marriage is discouraged. She feels desperate to learn more about her mother but also fears the truth. Over the course of the year, Ann learns the meaning of family and friendship and a way of life she'd never encountered before. 

Julie A. Sellers has woven a good story of a troubled teen whose life moves from a big city to a small farming community in Kansas. She has captured the rural Kansas area with almost poetic descriptions, as well as the people of the area. We watch Ann mature through the year as she becomes close to her grandpa and learns to understand her grandma. 

The characters are well-developed. Ann's constant references to the other Anne, the girl in Anne of Green Gables, contrast nicely to the many adages Grandma uses. Grandma is not unkind, but she is also not openly loving, and we find out why later in the book. Grandpa is the kind of grandfather every child would love. His kindly manner softens Grandma's strictness. Other characters in the farming community add to the story, as well.

Young teens today may not be familiar with the Anne of Green Gables books. Being exposed to the many references to them in this book should pique their interest. Those who have already read the Green Gables series of books will enjoy the relation of the two girls named Ann(e) in this story. This is a book that can be enjoyed by teens and adults alike. 

In her debut novel, Julie A. Sellers has penned a winner. Find the book at Amazon or Barnes and Noble, or by googling the title to find other bookstores where you can order. 

Get Back in the Writing Mode

 

The biggest part of the holiday celebrations is over. Yet, there are still some festive gatherings this week, especially as we head into the New Year's weekend. The decorations are still up, and you're probably still picking at lefotvers from the big dinners. 

Your writing world slowed down considerably these last days and weeks. Oh sure, you did a bit of writing here and there, but nothing on a regular basis. Too many distractions. I agree. I had those same distractions. Inspiration seemed to dribble away.

Now, we need to rev up our engines and start back on our writing journey. What's that you said? "Awww, not yet. I'll get to it next week." Maybe you will, and maybe you won't. The longer break we take from writing, the more difficult it is to get back to it. What to do?

Why not ease into your usual writing routine slowly this week? Instead of waiting and going full force January 2nd, do a little each day this week. Work your way up to full speed by next week. 

Distractions? Sure, they're still there, but this is where discipline comes in. No one in your family or group of friends is going to tell you to spend 30 minutes at your computer writing. It's up to you! Even if it's only 15 minutes in the early part of the day and 15 minutes before you head to bed, it's a way to get back to your normal schedule next week. 

If you're not up to actual writing, do some market research. Go through submissions newsletters or facebook pages to see what places you might want to submit to come January. Or read a reference book on writing. That will get your mind set into the writing mode, so you'll be ready to go next week. 

If nothing else, meet with a writer friend at a coffee shop, or a bookstore, and talk about what your your 2023 writing plans are. We get inspiration from chatting with other writers. And that's definitely a two-way street. You end up inspiring one another. 

Do a few writing exercises. The freewrite exercise is a good one. Open a book, close your eyes, and point your finger at the page. Whatever word you hit is the one you can use for a freewrite exercise. Get those writing muscles working again. 

If you do a little now, you'll be ready to go full steam next week. 

Christmas Greetings and One More Memory

 

NOTE:  NEXT POST WILL BE TUESDAY, DECEMBER 27

This is my last post before Christmas arrives. I want to wish all who celebrate this special holiday a very Merry Christmas. 

For those who celebrate Hanukkah or Kwanza this month, my holiday greetings to you, too. 

My wish is that you will all celebrate with family and friends, whether in person or in heart. Weather problems and illnesses can cause some holiday plans to be postponed or cancelled. It is then we must use all our technology implements to stay in touch. We have so many ways of contacting those far away, much unlike in days of yore. Sometimes, there was no way to let people know you couldn't make it. And hearts were heavy as they spent Christmas alone. 

The epic storm that crawled across the USA this week has changed many plans. Some will only be delayed, but whenever you are together to celebrate is fine. It doesn't need to be on the very day. Illness doesn't step aside for holidays either. 

Wherever you are and whenever you celebrate, I hope you will tell family stories and be moved to write some of them later. Gather around your holiday tabels, laden with food, and start with "I remember..."

Today's final Christmas memory story is about the year we celbrated Christmas with family a little over two weeks after the holiday. It was the Christmas of the Big Snow!

The Christmas of the Big Snow

We finalized the 2009 Christmas plans at Thanksgiving when both our children’s families gathered around the dining room table. We would celebrate a week early in Texas with Kirk’s family, then go to Karen’s in-law’s on Christmas Day and on to her house the next day. All set to celebrate with both our children—or so we thought.

On Friday, Christmas was only four days away, and I still had some gift wrapping to do and a few things to bake. The radio and TV announcers kept repeating that we might have snow for Christmas—lots of it! But I didn’t worry about it as storms here in central Kansas so often ended up veering either north or south of us. We usually don’t put much stock in the reports until we see the first flakes of snow.

By Wednesday afternoon, the weather people repeated words like blizzard and drifting and icy roads. I looked out the window off and on but all we had was rain and foggy conditions. It looked dismal but not threatening. Still, something told me I’d better run to the grocery store and pick up some “just in case” steaks to have on hand. 

I finished wrapping the gifts for Karen’s family and one for Steve’s parents that evening. Thursday morning, I made the last batch of cookies and cinnamon rolls to take with us on Christmas Day. The family traditional rolls left a lingering spicy scent in the warm kitchen. Not a flake of snow in sight. I scoffed at the weatherman on our local radio station when he predicted a record snow. 

I work as a volunteer at our hospital gift shop on Thursday afternoons. As Ken and I ate lunch on that Christmas Eve afternoon, the first flakes drifted from the sky. I must have looked worried because Ken said, “I’ll take you to the hospital and pick you up in time to get to church by five.” 

I helped customers, most of whom were hospital employees, select last-minute gifts all that afternoon. Christmas music flowed through the shop. I kept watch out the shop’s big picture windows as the continuing snow turned the world white. The wind picked up and I saw the snow swirling as it fell, trees bowing down just like the Three Kings who visited Baby Jesus. 

People who came in from outside stamped their feet, shaking snow from their jackets. We heard things like “It’s piling up fast out there!” and “The roads are pretty slick.”  “Wind’s getting a lot worse.” The manager decided to close at 4, so I called Ken and asked him to pick me up sooner than planned. As I buttoned my coat and pulled on gloves, I told myself it was sure to stop soon. 

The moment I got outside, I had trouble staying on my feet in the whipping wind. The bitter cold seeped through my coat in only seconds. Once I got inside the car, we started creeping home on roads that were getting worse by the minute. The usually short drive seemed like an eternity.

 “Maybe we shouldn’t try to go to church,” I said.

Ken agreed, but I felt a real pang of regret. It would be the first Christmas Eve service we’d ever missed in the 45 years of our marriage. Later, we heard that nearly all the churches canceled services.

Our house felt warm and welcoming, and we were soon in our comfy chairs in the living room. The wind howled outside, as we sipped wine and nibbled on cheese and crackers while we watched the weather report. They kept repeating that word blizzard and then added record amounts of snow, then high winds to cause major drifting. Karen and Steve were already at his parents’ house, so I didn’t worry about them. They were safe and enjoying Christmas Eve with family. And Kirk and Amy were in Mississippi where there was no snow. We had heat and lights and plenty of food in the house. But I had definite misgivings about our plans for Christmas Day. The roaring wind taunted me like a playground bully.

We’ve been married long enough that Ken answered my question before I even got the words out. “The roads will be cleared by late tomorrow morning when we leave.” And I believed him! But it snowed all night and was still snowing and blowing Christmas morning. The gifts were ready, the food I was taking waited in the fridge and pantry.

We opened the gifts we had for each other, then ate a hot breakfast with some of the cinnamon rolls as a Christmas treat. And still the snow came. Ken tried to clear the driveway, but it was slow going with the drifts along one side. 

Reports on radio and TV warned people to stay off the highways as they were snow-packed and icy and would remain so all day. We looked at each other and made a silent decision to stay home. Finally, Ken said, “You’d better call Karen and tell her.” 

We had the ‘just in case’ steaks for dinner and a choice of many kinds of Christmas cookies for dessert. The phone rang off and on all day, and we made some calls to family in other states, but the day seemed to creep by. We knew we weren’t the only ones whose plans had changed. We had power, unlike some, so I tried to be grateful, but I kept thinking about our grandchildren. 

We were disappointed but not devastated. Once the roads were cleared and traffic could move safely, we’d make the trip to Karen’s house on the 26th and have Christmas. Her small children wouldn’t mind repeating the gift opening one more day. But the roads weren’t much better the next day and reports of accidents and drifting along the interstate made us use more caution than usual. Those 120 miles could turn into an all-day, very tense drive. We stayed home.

Karen and Steve had to go back to work on Monday, and on Wednesday, Ken fell and ended up in the hospital with a mild concussion, so we had a further delay. Would we ever have Christmas with this part of our family? 

On the ninth of January, we packed the car with the unopened gifts and the food taken from the freezer. We made our way to Kansas City on clear, dry roads. The big snow was a memory, the disappointing Christmas Day pushed aside. It didn’t matter what day we celebrated with our children and grandchildren, whether early or late, it was Christmas in our hearts and we relished being together. That holiday, however, will always be “the Christmas of the big snow.” 

(c)

Write About Snow

 

We've been dealing with winter weather yesterday and today. Freezing drizzle yesterday, with icy places. Snow and extremely high winds all night, and below zero temps with even lower wind chills. Not as much snow as predicted, in fact, quite light, but the wind blew a lot against garage doors and left other spots dry. The wind also helped get rid of the icy spots. Snow has stopped and now we deal with the extreme cold for a few more days.

When we got up this morning, we found we had no cable tv or internet or cellphone data. Wonderful. It is then that you realize how dependent we are for these kinds of communication. Cox has us up and running again now. Whew!

The snow stretches a great way across our country, much worse to the north of Kansas, but a large swath across the Great Plains and on to the east coast. For a short exercise which you can do today, or save until next week when the holiday tasks have been taken care of, try the following:

A. use the snow scene photo todayto do a free write. Study the photo carefully to see what it inspires, then start writing without stopping for a full 10-15 minutes. You may come up witht he bones of a winter story.

B. Snow lends itself to descriptive words and phrases. See how many you can put in a list.

C. Using some of the words and phrases in your list, try writing a winter poem, featuring snow. The beauty of it, the treacherousness, the difficulty it can cause, the emotions it brings and more. 

If you're like me, you'll be staying inside all day. The small amount of snow is not so bad, but the awful wind chill will keep me in. 

Christmas Memory: The Cinnamon Bear

 

One more Christmas memory story for you this holiday season. This is a fairly new one, not seen yet. It is one of my very fondest Christmas memories. Maybe some of you will remember this, too. Perhaps my story will trigger a memory of your own. Write about it! 

The Cinnamon Bear—A Beloved Radio Serial

In the mid to late 1940’s in Oak Park, a Chicago suburb, I hurried home each day after school to listen to the next 15-minute episode of The Cinnamon Bear. I did this every year between Thanksgiving and Christmas, even though I knew the story well. It felt so good to walk into our warm kitchen knowing a new episode of my greatly loved story awaited.

During holiday period, the story was broadcast six days a week right up to Christmas. I sat glued to the big console radio in our small apartment living room to follow the story of Jimmy and Judy and an Irish teddy bear named Paddy O’Cinnamon. Only days before Christmas, the silver star on the twins’ Christmas tree is missing. The children and the Cinnamon Bear travel to Maybeland to retrieve the precious family star. They fall into one misadventure after another until the star is found and returned to grace the top of their Christmas tree. 

I loved books and stories so it seemed only natural that I would become besotted with this serial. The Cinnamon Bear story became a Christmas tradition in our family. I think my mother listened right along with me as she made dinner preparations or baked Christmas cookies in our very tiny kitchen. As my younger brothers got older, they joined me every afternoon, pushing for top position by the big radio. Why we thought we had to sit practically pasted to the speakers is a wonder. We could have heard it anywhere in our apartment, but being so close somehow made the story more real to us.

From our seats by the radio, we could see our own Christmas tree. An angel, not a star, topped our tree every year. I knew I would have felt as unhappy as Jimmy and Judy if our angel in her pink dress and golden wings suddenly disappeared. I developed the habit of checking that she was right where she belonged every morning before I went to school and again when I returned home. 

Now, when I think of the story, the scent of Christmas baking comes along with the memory for my mother baked wonderful Christmas cookies, cinnamon rolls and coffeecakes. and fudge which never got firm no matter how long she beat it. In December, our kitchen could have won a prize for Best Aroma of the Season. 

When the daily episode finished, my brothers and I pored through the Sears Christmas catalog, marking our fondest desires with our first name initial. Not once, but day after day adding a few new items but never taking any away. Santa would choose which item was best for each of us. We were certain of that.

The Cinnamon Bear did not air on Sundays, and sometimes it seemed a very long time from the Saturday episode to the Monday one. I knew what was going to happen, but I listened with great anticipation each day. I came to know Jimmy and Judy and Paddy O’Cinnamon as dear friends year after year. They always found the silver star and our pink angel never left the top of our own Christmas tree. 

Thrifty Ways to Toot Your Horn

Christina Hamlett, Guest Blogger, has some excellent advice on how authors can promote their books. She gives 25--yes, 25--tips. That's almost an entire alphabet! Please share with other book authors.

THRIFTY WAYS TO TOOT YOUR HORN

By Christina Hamlett

Who knows your newly published book better than you? The following promotional strategies require little or no cost – and those that do are probably tax-deductible as a business expense.

1. Tell everyone you know that your book is out and where they can buy it. Find creative ways to mention “I’m an author” whenever you find yourself in a conversation on trains and planes or in waiting rooms and supermarket lines.

2. Send an email blast to everyone in your address book. Include a picture of your bookcover and a teaser/synopsis. Ask each recipient to forward your announcement to 10 friends.

3. Design a professional-looking website. Include book excerpts and behind-the-scenes stories to whet visitors’ appetites.

4. Use online services like Vista Print ( http://www.vistaprint.com ) to upload your book cover to business cards and postcards. Slip them into every piece of correspondence you mail.

5. Start blogging on free websites such as http://www.WordPress.com , https://www.wix.com , and https://www.godaddy.com .

6. Add your website and/or “Author of Such-and-Such” as part of your email signature.

7. Provide local/national media ( http://www.newslink.org/news.html ) with a polished press release announcing your book.

8. Contact editors/reporters who do interviews with local personalities. Provide them with a press kit which includes your photograph, a sample chapter, a copy of the book cover, and a sales sheet identifying the book’s price, number of pages, distributor, and trade discount information.

9. Participate in writer chat rooms and discussion forums on social media. If you give sensitive/helpful/insightful advice often enough in the context of “When I was researching my YA novel…”, their curiosity to hear more about your work is going tokick in. Just don’t be pushy.

10. Establish yourself as an expert by recommending other authors’ books at https://shepherd.com.K1. Write book reviews. Include “Author of Such-and-Such” after your name. If you’re precluded from doing that, insert the phrase “As an author of (genre)…” in your write-up.

11. Write book reviews. Include “Author of Such-and-Such” after your name. If you’re precluded from doing that, insert the phrase “As an author of (genre)…” in your write-up.

12. Promote your work on podcasts and radio shows. Check out http://www.blogtalkradio.com and http://www.ontheradio.net/stations.aspx .

13. Cross-promote by trading links and banners with other websites.

14. Request reviews from https://onlinebookclub.org .

15. Join Authors’ Den ( http://www.authorsden.com ) and talk about your work.

16. Network with fellow authors. Write reviews of each other’s books.

17. Give a talk or read an excerpt at local bookstores/libraries.

18. Join local writers’ critique groups.

19. Offer to give talks at neighborhood schools (including being a speaker on Career Day).

20. Sign up for Amazon Associates Affiliate Program ( https://affiliate-program.amazon.com ).

21. Offer autographed copies of your book as a contest prize or as part of a charity gift basket.

22. Contribute guest blogs on the joys of reading at http://readlearnwrite.com .

23. Next time you make or order return address labels, use the second line below your nameto include “Author of Such-and-Such”.

24. Ask store merchants and café/coffeehouse owners if they’d display some of your promotional postcards/flyers/bookmarks on the counter.

25. Ask to be put on the speakers’ roster for clubs and civic organizations.

In addition to these methods, many authors apply a unique spin to Mickey Spillane’sobservation, “The first page sells the book. The last page sells your next book.” If that last page happens to be the opening scene of your next project, you’ll have your readers right where you want them – eager to maintain the momentum by jumping into a new story by the same author. This approach is especially practical if (1) you’re writing serialized fiction, and (2) your nextbook will be released within two months of this one. Unless both books were placed with the publisher simultaneously, however, it may be hard to lock down this kind of guarantee. While the storyline can leave a few things open to reader speculation (i.e., will Joe and Etta marrysomeday), the book needs to be satisfying in a stand-alone context and, likewise, subsequent spins shouldn’t require familiarity with the original in order to be enjoyed.

Former actress and theatre director Christina Hamlett is an award winning author whose credits to date include 47 books, 266 stage plays and squillions of articles and interviews. She isalso a script consultant for stage and screen, a distance learning instructor and a professionalghostwriter. www.authorhamlett.com

 

Christmas Poems Enrich the Holiday

We write and read many Christmas stories, but Christmas poems are also high in number and well-known. Perhaps one of the oldest and greatly loved is "The Night Before Christmas" written by Clement Moore for his children in the mid-19th century. It's lived on right into our own 21st century of today. 

There are many other poems that highlight the Christmas holiday. Some are religious while others depict the joy and warmth of the holiday. Consider the lyrics of the Christmas songs and hymns. They are, in reality, a poem of sorts. Some were poems that later were set to music.

On Christmas Day, 1863, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow wrote the poem we know today as "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day." The Civil War raged, and his heart was heavy with concern for his wounded soldier son, as well as the injustice of the war. His poem evolved into a beloved hymn. 

Many children's picture books are written in poetic form, or narrative verse.

Today begins Christmas week, when we know the celebration draws near, when tasks must be finished before the gathering of families. I'm sharing the one Christmas poem I have written below. It is a prayer turned into poetry and a reminder to remember what it is Christians celebrate at Christmas.

The Bells Of Christmas

Keep Christmas in my heart, Lord.

Help me remember the love and joy

that Advent season brings each year.

Let me hear the bells of Christmas

long after the sacred day is done,

ring them loud, ring them clear.

I want to celebrate your birthday

each and every day, if only quietly.

Let me not forget the beloved tale.

If I spread the love of Christmas

all January, June and hot July,

will its message sound as dear?

Keep Christmas in my heart, Lord.

Ring the bells of Christmas softly,

hold them close so that I may hear.

When everyday cares and woes

push the Christmas story far away,

let the blessed bells bring it back again.

Keep Christmas in my heart, Lord.

I'll ring the chimes for those who've

not yet heard the message of the bells.

                           

                           ...Nancy Julien Kopp (c)

 

Ways to Cut Word Count

 

I'm sharing a former post today on the topic of cutting words in your stories, essays and articles. It's one of the important parts of getting a piece ready to submit. Many publications have word limits along with contests. If you exceed the limit, you're doing yourself no favor. Your submission could be tossed without ever having been read. Some writers whine about the difficulty of cutting words. It is not a hard task once you learn the ways to cut. In the end, you have a stronger piece of writing. My earlier post below: 

Ways to Cut Word Count 

Slash! Cut! Snip! Ax! Clip!  All those words relate to our poster quote today. Stephen King's advice is always right on. We should heed his words since he has written so many successful novels and a wonderful reference book for writers titled "On Writing." 

I am in agreement with him about cutting the excess fat. Last night, I wrote a first draft of a story to submit to Chicken Soup for the Soul whose guidelines state no more than 1200 words. And they mean 1200 words. My draft was 1244, but I've done the cutting exercise so many times that I feel confident I can cut those 44 extra words, and maybe more, to make my story stronger and more concise. 

Most writers don't like to cut words they have written. They are precious, but if your story can be made better by cutting, then go for it. It's not as difficult a task as some think. And, as I said earlier, the more often you do the slashing words exercise, the better you become. A master slasher! (That phrase 'as I said earlier' could be cut without losing meaning in the sentence.)

How do you cut words? Read through the entire draft first, then go back and look at it paragraph by paragraph. You might be surprised by the number of times you repeat a word that isn't necessary. Let's look at several ways you can cut words.

A. Word Repetition:  You might find a section like this:  Alice drove to the beach with tears streaming. She'd go to the beach to forget him. She loved the beach.  20 words. Rewrite it like this:  Tears streaming, Alice drove to her beloved beach to forget him. 11 words. 

B.  Idea Repetition: Some writers fear that readers will not 'get' a point they are making, so they repeat the same idea in the next paragraph. You don't need to do this. Say it once and be done. Readers are capable of 'getting it' the first time. Another possibility is the writer is not sure what to write next, so the easy way out is to repeat the same idea using different words. All it does is add to the word count.

C.  Unnecessary words: When we talk or write, we tend to toss in many unnecessary words. They are words that have no bearing on the meaning, words that, when cut, do nothing harmful to the sentence. Words like 'just, very, really, usually, that, rather, quite, and probably' can be eliminated without losing meaning in the sentence. Google 'unnecessary words in writing' to read more.

D.  Dump the word 'the' in some places: We tend to use 'the' in many places where it is not necessary. The following sentence can be shortened. We use the recipe books and the hand-written ones from our mothers. Rewrite as: We use recipe books and hand-written ones from our mothers. You've cut two words and left the meaning. When you edit, look for places where 'the' can be dropped.

E. Eliminate 'that' when possible: In this sentence, We know that Paul will be late and that he will laugh about it. The word 'that' can be cut without losing any meaning. It would read: We know Paul will be late and he will laugh about it. 

F.  Cut adverbs and adjectives:  These are modifiers and are not always needed. Some writers think if one adjective is good, use two or three. That's overkill. One is fine, and most adverbs can be cut, too. Adverbs lead you into the trap of telling rather than showing.

G.  Conjunctions:  You can eliminate the 'and, but, or' words when you are writing a lengthy sentence. Instead, cut the conjunction and create two separate sentences. Do it in many places, and the number of words cut adds up.

H.  Lengthy sentences: Some writers love long sentences. Not only can they be divided into two sentences, but also lose some words. Read a very long sentence and note ways it can be trimmed.

If you can cut words without losing meaning, go ahead and ax them. The more you work on cutting words, the easier it becomes. You train your editing eye to look for places to cut. 

 

Deadline Dates for Submissions

 

'Nothing makes me more productive than the last minute.' So says our poster for today. Haven't we all been there rushing like crazy to make a deadline or get ready for company in our home or to have a report prepared for a meeting? Any number of things catch us in a busy world, so we put it off until there is no more time for doing so.

Many contests or publications give a deadline date for when submissions will be accepted. We have good intentions, but sometimes we wait until the last minute to get a piece ready to submit, get it in just under the line, and sigh with relief.

You did it, but it may not be the best way. When an editor gives a deadline date, he/she has read hundreds, maybe more, submissions before those final ones slip in. Maybe the editor has already found the right number he/she needs, or perhaps the judge for a contest has read several entries before yours arrives. The latecomers will need to be outstanding to be given full attention. 

Chicken Soup for the Soul editors urge writers to submit early. They have often selected the stories they like best long before the deadline. If yours arrives the day before the last date, it will need to be an excellent story to make the cut. 

We know what the deadline date is, but we keep putting off getting our submission ready. There are other things calling to us. 'I'll do it later.' runs through our head. Our intentions are good, but later gets 'later and later.' That nasty little word, procrastination, comes into play here.

Do I always get my submissions in early? Not 100%. I'm as human as you are. It seems to be human nature to put things off, at least for a good many people. Perhaps we take in how important it is to us. I've been to a few conferences where writers have given presentations that were obviously not well prepared ahead of time. They probably put it altogether the night before. That's not fair to the audience members, or really, to themselves. When a writer presents, they are giving the world an impression of who they are. 

That old Girl Scout motto, 'Be prepared,' might be adopted by writers, too. 

If a deadline date is close, but you have something to submit, should you back away and not send it? I don't think so. It's better to submit late than not at all. But next time...  

A Christmas Memory: My Biggest Christmas Wish

Today's post is another Christmas memory. We all have them, so why not write aobut them for your family? In 1951, I had a special wish for Christmas, but my mother just laughed and...read about it below.

My Biggest Christmas Wish

A few weeks before Christmas of 1951, I told my mother about a special gift I wanted. She laughed and said, “You’re too old for baby dolls.” My bottom lip quivered and I blinked away tears.

I didn’t think twelve was too old to play with dolls. My cousin, Carol, had the most wonderful baby doll, one the size of a real baby. I coveted that doll more than anything I’d seen in my entire life. The one time of the year we got new toys was Christmas, making this the perfect time to ask for one. I took a deep breath. “Carol has one, so why shouldn’t I?” This time my mother didn’t laugh at me. She stopped rolling the pie crust dough. “Girls who are twelve and in sixth grade don’t play with dolls. Carol’s only eleven and in the fifth grade.” She started rolling the dough again.

Why did a year make such a difference? I only had one doll, a Shirley Temple look-alike given to me six years earlier. At twelve, I had perfected sulking, and I proceeded to do so. I watched while my two younger brothers turned the pages in the Sears catalog and wrote the first letter of their name by the toys they wanted. It probably wasn’t worth putting my initials there. I only wanted one thing, and it looked like I wasn’t going to get it.

Even so, I harbored a twinge of hope all through the weeks that led up to the big day. We had little storage space in our small apartment, so my mother immediately wrapped the gifts she purchased and stacked them on the dressers in her bedroom. She delighted in sending us in there on made-up errands so we could watch the piles grow.  I didn’t see a box that might hold a life size baby doll. Maybe tomorrow…

Signs of Christmas were all around us. We listened to an episode of the The Cinnamon Bear on the radio after school. The same story about two children and a stuffed bear searching for a special star ran every year in December, and despite knowing the ending, I listened every day while I snacked on the latest Christmas cookies that Mom baked daily, washing them down with cold milk. But I thought about my baby doll. 

Mom baked many kinds of cookies, storing them in gaily patterned tins. I helped frost the sugar cookies and sampled the others that came out of the oven as soon as they cooled. Tiny rolled-up rugelach, powdered-sugar-coated crescents, and of course, chocolate chip.  Cinnamon rolls, coffee cakes, and frosted layer cakes made our holiday special. We had fudge every Christmas—so soft and gooey, it had to be eaten with a spoon. While the spicy smells of the holiday filled the air, I thought about the doll.

A few days before the big day, Dad put up the tree and strung the colored lights. We three kids hung the ornaments. Being the oldest, I was in charge of the upper branches. Howard worked on the next tier, and Paul, who was only four, put ornaments on the bottom branches. We finished with silver tinsel that shimmered in the tree lights. Holiday music played on our big console radio in the living room. I looked at the tree and thought that, if I got my doll Christmas morning, everything would be perfect. 

A special angel adorned every tree of my growing-up years. Mom pressed the angel’s pink satin dress, smoothed out her gold wings, and fluffed up her hair so she was ready to stand on top of our tree, watching over us. Dad waited until we decorated the entire tree before he put the angel on the highest point. That year, I wondered if angels could grant special Christmas wishes. Just in case, I silently told her mine. She didn’t laugh or scold, just smiled sweetly while I inhaled the special aroma of the fir tree.

On Christmas Eve, my brothers and I brought one of our everyday socks to the living room and Mom pinned them onto the back of an overstuffed chair since we had no fireplace with a mantel. We knew Santa would fill them with an orange, walnuts still in the shells and a few pieces of candy. Before we went to bed, Howard, Paul and I brought out all the colorful packages from the bedroom and watched Dad arrange them under the tree. 

It seemed almost magical with the lights, ornaments and the packages filled with secrets underneath, all watched over by the sweet pink angel on the top. All too soon, we were shooed off to bed with the annual reminder that the sooner we went to sleep, the sooner Christmas would arrive. 

In the morning, my brothers found the gifts Santa brought them next to the tree, for Santa never wrapped his gifts. The boys knew immediately who they were from. Each of them received one of the items he’d marked in the Sears catalog weeks earlier. No Santa gift for me. Twelve year old girls didn’t play with dolls and they didn’t get gifts from Santa either. I swallowed my disappointment and settled down on the sofa waiting for Dad to pass out the wrapped packages, one by one.

We opened many packages that held practical items like new socks or pajamas and others that had small toys and comic books, some jewelry for me. I noticed a good-sized box in the corner that I hadn’t seen the night before. When we’d opened all the others, Dad handed me that big box. I looked at him and Mom, then at the angel on the tree. Could it possibly be?

“Open it,” Dad said. 

I ripped off the paper, removed the lid and gazed down on the face of the precious doll I’d hoped for. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Instead, I lifted the doll carefully out of the box and cradled her against me. It was exactly like the one Carol had.

I looked at my mother, still in her bathrobe and slippers on this holiday morning. I had trouble getting the words out, then finally said, “But you said I was too old for dolls.”  

“Sometimes mothers are wrong. Daddy and I decided that if it was something you wanted so very much, you should have it. You’ve never had a lot of dolls like some girls.”

I laid my treasure on the sofa and rushed to my mother’s side. I hugged her and thanked her and then put my arms around my dad and squeezed hard, whispering my thanks in his ear.

I picked up my special Christmas gift and smiled from ear to ear. What fun Carol and I would have later in the day when her family joined ours for dinner. Everyone moved to the kitchen to eat breakfast but I stopped to say a silent thank you to the pink angel on the tree top. Twelve wasn’t too old for dolls, after all.

 

Writer, What Kind of Day Did You Have?

 

Whoever is responsible for today's poster must be reading my blog. I've written about each one of the situations listed for writers. Every day gives us something and we all know that we have those good days, bad days, worst days, and best days. Sometimes, we need to sit back and relax just before bed and assess the day we just experienced. We could probably label each one. 

Think about what was the best part of your day. What did you learn? What experience did you have? What would you have changed about your  day? We shouldn't regret any day, even those difficult ones that either give us experience or offer a lesson. And those days that give us memories? Definitely the best ones. 

Consider what the poster tells us:  Good days give happiness--bad days give experience--worst days give lessons--best days give memories.

An interesting experiment might be to make a chart for a full month. List the date and then mark which kind of day you had, considering your writing world. I hope you have more good ones than the other kind.

Today's post is a short one, but I think the point is made in these few words.

Writer, Where are You Going?

Today's photo is a road marker. It won't lead you to New York City or Las Vegas or San Francisco. Instead, it shows the way to town of Hope and also to the village of Despair. 

As writers, we have a choice between these two. How do you feel about your writing world? Are you often feeling like the rest of the writing world is against you? Do you write, then tell yourself it's pure drivel and no one will want to read it? Do you wonder sometimes why you keep on writing, worrying that it is a lesson in futility? Do you ever decide not to submit what you've written because you think it will most likely be rejected? Do you stay home alone instead of socializing or attending conferences with other writers? If you answered yes to any of these questions, you're probably traveling to Despair, a place where no one feels very good about themself.

Those who move toward Hope enjoy the act of writing. They are isnspired to write by many things in life that they see on a daily basis. They submit their work with a positive attitude. When rejections come, as they often do, they look carefully to see what might be changed before submitting elsewhere. They look at a rejection as a way to learn someting. They enjoy being with other writers and going to conferences where they can learn new things.

As with so many things in our writing life, you have a choice to make. Will you continue on the road to Despair or will you make a change and travel the highway to Hope? I can't make that choice for you. Your family cannot do so either. It's up to you and you alone. 

If you choose the road to Hope, does that mean you'll never feel down about your writing again? Probably not. We all have those (dare I say it?) hopeless feelings on occasion. The problem is when those feelings take over, and you sink deeper into Despair. Make a habit of looking to the positives in your writing life. Developing a good habit doesn't happen overnight. It takes time and patience and persistence. I guarantee that it is worth working toward the good habits a writer should have.

 

A Christmas Memory--Finding the Right Christmas Tree

 

A star on top, no angel on this one

Yesterday's post featured Christmas stories, and today, it's a Christmas memory. Now is the time to write your Christmas memories to add to your Family Stories book. You need not be a professional writer to do this. Some time ago, I wrote about what happened when our family went to pick out a Christmas tree. It was much the same story each year. It took place in the 1940s and early 50s. We were city people, and...well. read the story below.

Finding The Right Christmas Tree

In the 1940’s, we city folk didn’t cut down a tree in the fields but kept our own tradition. On a cold December evening, Dad announced that it was time to find a Christmas tree. My two younger brothers and I grabbed heavy coats, hats, gloves and snow boots, and flew down three flights of stairs to our 1939 Plymouth. Our excitement bubbled over in giggles and hoots.

The corner lot Dad drove to, normally empty, now held dozens of evergreen trees. The pines and firs seemed to have appeared magically, lined up like the toy soldiers my brothers played with.  A wire had been strung around the lot and bare light bulbs attached. There was plenty of light to allow buyers see the assortment of trees that would decorate the homes in our neighborhood.

.The proprietors, who were also hunters, had erected a wooden teepee-like frame in a prominent corner to display two dead deer and a black bear. They were hung from hooks and occasionally swayed when the wind gusted. 

 My brothers and I marched round and round the frozen animals. 

“Go ahead, touch it,” Howard dared.

My hand reached within inches of the thick, matted fur of the bear, but I quickly drew it back. “You first,” I challenged, but Howard only circled the animals, hands behind him.

Meanwhile, Dad walked the rows of trees, pulling a few upright, shaking the snow off.

He called to us and we crunched across the snow-packed ground.

Dad held a tree upright. “No,” we chorused. “It’s not big enough.” 

We followed Dad and thumbed our noses at several other trees. “Not big enough,” we repeated, stamping cold feet to warm them.

The owner ambled over, so bundled up he looked kin to the dead bear. He kept a cigar clamped in his teeth and wore gloves with the fingers cut off, so he could peel off dollar bills from the stack he carried to make change.

Dad shook the man’s hand and said, “OK, let’s see the good trees now.” 

The burly man moved the cigar from one side of his mouth to the other, rolled his eyes and finally gestured for us to follow him.

 We scooted across the pine-scented lot to a brick building. The man opened a door, and we tromped single-file down a long flight of concrete steps.

 Even more trees leaned against the walls. Dad pulled out one after the other until he found a tree that we three children deemed “big enough.” 

Silence now, as the serious part of this adventure commenced. Dad and the cigar chomping man dickered about the price. Finally, money changed hands, and Dad hoisted the tree. We jostled one another up the steps to be closer to the green treasure.

Dad fastened the tree to the top of the car with the rope he’d brought. The boys and I knelt on the back seat, watching to make sure the tree didn’t slide off the roof of the car during the short drive.

 Once home, Dad hauled the tree up three flights of stairs to our apartment and put it on our small outdoor balcony. We’d wait until close to Christmas to bring it in and decorate the branches. Several times a day, I peered through the glass door to check that no one had stolen it. Why I thought someone would climb to the third-floor balcony to steal our tree is a wonder.

 Days later, Dad carried the tree inside and tried to put it in the stand, but it was no use. The tree was too tall. It should have been no surprise, as it happened every year. He always caved to our chorus of “not big enough.” Dad found his favorite saw and cut several inches off the tree trunk. When he put it in the stand, the tree rose like a flagpole, straight and tall, nearly touching the ceiling. There was a collective “Ahhh” from the entire family.

Dad hummed a Christmas tune as he strung the many-colored lights, then Mother helped us hang sparkly ornaments, and we finished with strand upon strand of silver tinsel, being warned to place it strand by strand. “No throwing it at the tree,” Mom said. Near the finish line, we did throw that tinsel when Mom went to the kitchen. It was great fun to toss it and see how high we could throw. 

Finally, Dad climbed a step-stool and placed the last piece on the top. What joy to see our special angel with the pink satin dress and golden wings. The tree was so tall that her blonde hair skimmed the ceiling. I visited her every day while the tree was up. There were days when it seemed she smiled at me. Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas without her.

That sweet angel got lost somewhere over the years. Most likely, she’d become tattered and torn, and Mother discarded her long after we children had grown and left home.

Finding the right tree and decorating it each year was one more link in the chain of family bonding. My brothers and I were gifted with the treasure of the memories of that holiday tradition.

Now, my husband brings our tree upstairs from a basement storage closet. Artificial, always the same height, never needs to be made shorter. It’s easier, but I miss those cold, snowy excursions to the tree lot with my brothers. I still put an angel on top of the tree. She’s nice but not quite the same as the one with the pink dress and golden wings. Not once has she smiled at me.

(c)

When To Write Holiday Stories

A Beloved Christmas Story

Today's photo is a cover of one of the most beloved Christmas stories of all times. The story, written by Charles Dickens, has been read by millions over the years, made into stage plays, films, and a large number of print editions. Just recently, a new film has come out based on the old story but with a new, modern twist. We would probably be surprised if we knew the number of book covers that have been designed over the years for Dickens' famous tale.

There are other Christmas stories that have lasted through the years. One that comes to mind is "The Gift of the Magi" by O. Henry. "The Elves and the Shoemaker" has entertained myriad numbers of children. The narrative poem, "The Night Before Christmas," is also one of the most loved. Who can forget "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer?" There are many others, as well. 

The poem, "The Bells," was written by Henry Wadworth Longfellow on Christmas Day in 1863, in the midst of the Civil War. His poignant poem was then set to music and is the beloved hymn, "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day."

Longfellow wrote his poem on Christmas Day, when his heart was heavy, but Christmas was the day to be celebrated. He didn't wait and write his poem the following July. If he had, his emotions might not have been quite at the same pitch. I'm guessing that the poem might not have been quite as good.

I think that most Christmas stories work best when you write them during the Christmas season. It's when you are feeling the celebration the most. Write a Christmas story in April, and I'm not sure it would be as good. Maybe it would if you played Christmas music to set the mood. 

It's the same with other holidays. An Easter story is best written during the Easter season when spring is bursting forth in all its glory. Can you write an Easter story in November? Of course you can, but I am definitely of the opinion that it works better when you're in the Easter celebration.

That works for Halloween stories, too. Or Hanukkah. Any holiday that you think about writing a story that revolves around the traditions and decorations, the foods, the preparation. the meaning and more. 

I once had an idea for a Christmas story for children at this same busy time of year. I thought about it many days, but my busy schedule kept me from writing even a first draft. Or, I let it keep me from writing. The writing was up to me, but I chose to put it off. Months later, I thought about the story again, and I sat down to work on the first draft. It didn't work. The feelings I had when Christmas was all around me had slipped away as the months went by. Oh sure, the bones of the story were still in my head, but the heart of it had disappeared. 

The point I'm making today is that, if you want to write a holiday story, do it when you're in the midst of that holiday. I think you will write better and stronger and with more emotion than if you worked on the story in an off season. 

 

A Foggy Morning

 

Foggy Day

Fog rolled into our area overnight. When I got up this morning, I could barely see across the street. Fog brought many thoughts to mind. I find it rather eerie, depressing, frightening when driving, and more. It's also a good subject to write about, or to include in a story you're writing. Fog lends itself to poetry, too. One of Carl Sandburg's most famous poems is titled Fog. Very short but memorable.

Several years ago, while on a trip, I wrote a short piece about fog and our writing world. I can manage to turn almost any topic to something about writing. I've included it below:

In the Fog

I pulled aside the heavy draperies of the motel room window, hoping to see sunshine. Instead, I found a misty rain and light fog. “Fog again!” I said to my husband who stood before the mirror shaving. 

We’d driven in fog the morning before when we set out from home to travel southeast, in hopes of finding a pocket of warmth during this winter month. As we crossed the hills of south central and southeast Kansas, we ran the gamut from a little fog to heavy curtains of it, blocking the view of the tallgrass prairie we normally enjoyed when driving this route.

I searched the road ahead for tail lights of any vehicles and the headlights of those approaching. At times, one would rise up from the fog, seeming to appear in only an instant. I watched the side roads, worrying that a truck or car would pull out in front of us before they realized we were there. Ken kept watch as he drove, and I offered one more set of eyes to help him. Fog frightens me almost as much as icy roads. 

What upsets me the most on a foggy day is the number of people who drive through it with no lights on. “What kind of idiot drives in fog without any lights on?” I’ve repeated this statement on many an occasion, never receiving any illuminating answer, other than some smart remark from my husband. 

We left the motel on this second morning of our trip, feeling relieved that the fog appeared to be very light. Euphoria lasted only a mile or two, as the arms of heavy fog wrapped around us and held on tightly, as though a lover who would never let go. 

Sometimes we move through years of our writing lives fighting fog, never being able to see clearly to our goals. We let that vaporous air surround us while we sit and wonder why our writing journey doesn’t move faster or rise to a level we’d hoped for long ago.

Sure, we set goals at the beginning but how hard did we work to achieve them? Did we give the ultimate to reach our goals? Or did we take it as slowly as those cars driving through the fog? Did we drive ourselves hard enough and fast enough? Did we search for reasons that we weren’t accomplishing what we’d set out to do? All good questions for which you may or may not have answers.

Maybe we should set another goal to add to our earlier list. Let’s move out of the misty fog to see our previous goals more clearly. Then work at each one with a new attitude. Trade the I can’t for an I can. Let’s move through our list of goals with a new fervor

A Pep Talk for Writers

 

Our photo poster today highlights how our writing journey must take place. We don't decide to be a writer, then zoom from square one to success. If only we could! Maybe every third person would become a writer if it was that easy.

Anyone who has entered the writing world learns very quickly that the journey must be taken one step at a time. That we walk down the writing path putting one foot in front of another, meeting potholes along the way. Can you hop over those potholes and move on, or do you work at filling them in--correcting whatever was wrong? Skip over them, and you're bound to run into more and more. 

Patience is one of the keywords in my writing world. When we are a newbie writer, we want to soar like a jet plane. We want to leap the learning hurdles and get to the part where editors clamor for our work. Instead, we need to practice patience. 

We also should pursue as much knowledge about the craft of writing as possible. It's not a matter of learning this and that and then surging ahead. We have to keep on a continuous learning cycle. It's one reason I suggest attending writing conferences and workshops. You'll learn at each one. The information you receive might not help you that very day, but as time goes on, and you venture into different styles of writing, what you learned can be most helpful. 

Don't stop learning about the writing world. Ever! Even when you think you know it all, something new might come along. Be open to learning new methods. Don't be one of those people who say "I've always done it this way, and I'm not going to change now." At least, try the new way, and if it doesn't work for you, go back to what you did before. You could find that you are happy with the new method. 

One way newbie writers meet discouragement head-on is to submit to the top magazines or publishers immediately. There's the slimmest chance they'll be accepted. More likely is the rejection coming back in a flash. When you feel ready to submit your work, start with smaller publications. Build a portfolio of acceptances with them, and move on to the bigger ones later. 

Patience. It's a virtue that all writers should develop. 

Don't wait for the elevator that will zoom you to the penthouse of success. Take the stairs as you become a stronger writer. Keep moving up a little at a time without losing sight of your goals. 

Writers Must Believe in Themselves

 

As many of you know, I am a big Kansas State University football fan. This season, the team offered us all a lesson in believing in yourself. They were picked to finish fifth out of ten teams in the Big 12 Conference. They lost a nonconference game to Tulane, and the fans mumbled and grumbled.

They lost two more games in conference play. The team also had some good wins, beating top teams. They ended up #2 in the conference and played in the Big 12 Championship game this past Saturday vs the #1 team in the conference, TCU. 

Article after article pointed out that this K-State team believed in themselves. They beleived they could be conference champions despite three losses in the full season. 'Believe' was a word they spoke over and over, and one they saw on signs in the locker room. That belief carried them to victory on Saturday, beating #1 TCU in overtime 31-28. Our team came home the victors after a hard fought battle. TCU didn't win the conference title, but they will play as one of the top four teams in the nation in a few weeks. 

So, what's all this football tak on a blog about writing? It's one word. Believe. Every writer must find a way to believe in their ability to write, to submit, to be published. Teddy Roosevelt is quoted on today's photo. 'Believe you can and you're halfway there.' 

It's not an easy task to merely say you believe in yourself; it's something you must work at. The K-State team believed, but they were a big group who held one another up in believing. You, as a writer, are a team of one. You are the person who must be the believer. You must assume the idea that you will be a published writer someday. Or, if you are already published, that it will happen again. 

To believe in yourself is to have a positive attitude. No shooting yourself down when a rejection pops up. Believe that you can submit elsewhere and perhaps have success. Believe that you can make some revisions to have a better piece of writing. Believe that you will continue to learn your craft and become a stronger writer. 

Several times I've suggested a simple exercise for writers to do. Stand in front of a mirror and keep repeating a phrase like 'I am a writer.' 'I am a good wirter.' Now try using the phrase 'I believe in myself.' Say it until it becomes fact. Do it several times each day until you can claim it as truth. 

There is so much more to writing that putting words on paper or a screen. Believing in yourself as a writer is only one of many. 

An Exercise To Enjoy

 Missed yesterday’s post as we were in the road all day. Today we have two photos to inspire you. Choose one or both and write a short story by studying the photo and using your imagination. 

Two very different kinds of photos. They should inspire two very different types of stories. Use all the tools in your writing basket to make your story come alive. 

Hopefully, you’ll end up with something worth submitting for publication. Have fun with this one.