365 Blank Pages for Writers

We're almost at the end of the year 2024. My last post asked you to answer some questions about what you have done in your writing world this year. Today, lets' look forward and consider what you hope to accomplish in 2025 as a writer. 

I like to turn the page on my calendar to a new month. It feels like a fresh beginning, and opening a brand-new calendar is even better. There are twelve months, 365 days waiting for me to accomplish something as a writer, as well as appointments and social engagements that I mark on each month's calendar page.

What I hope to do this year: 

A.  Continue to write my blog posts two to three times a week. 

B.  I'll seek out new places to submit my unpublished work. 

C.  Revise my middle grade novel one more time.

D.  Propose a possible book about writing to a publisher I know

E.  Spend some time writing every day

F.  Act on ideas that swirl in my head, instead of merely thinking about them

G.  Write more poetry

H.  Continue subbing and critting at my online writing group

That's quite a list, isn't it? Try making up a similar list for yourself. Consider what you didn't get done in 2024 and make that part of your goals for this new year. 

My list consisted of eight things I hope to do in this new year. Maybe it's too long, or perhaps too short. I'll be a happy writer if I accomplish all of my goals. Writing goals is the easy part, achieving them can be a bumpy road. It all depends on how serious you are about working toward each one. As always, it's up to you to work on your goals. No one else is going to do it for you.

Writing is a solitary game most of the time. There are also moments when we interact with other writers, attend workshops and conferences, and even ask another writer to critique our work. Maybe this is the year you join your state writers association, or a local one. 

When you open your new calendar, think about the 365 blank pages that are all yours. It's up to you as a writer to fill them in the best way you can. 
 

Writers and Change

The last Christmas story has been left up longer than I expected due to unforeseen circumstances. Nevertheless, it has received a huge number of readers, and for that, I am grateful. 

Christmas is behind us, and the New Year is creeping up. People make resolutions that they break in mere weeks. Writers set goals that end up forgotten, just like those resolutions. It's the human in us that makes it happen all too often.

For writers, I think the end of the year is a good time to make an assessment of your writing world. Ask yourself questions like these:

A. How often did I submit my work for publication?

B.  Did I set aside writing time on a regular basis?

C.  Did I act on the story ideas that swirled in my mind?

D.  Did I have any of my work published in 2024?

E.  Did I attend any writing workshops this year?

F.  How many books on writing did I read this year?

G.  How many first drafts are still in my files?

H.  Am I still passionate about writing?

I.  Am I discouraged about my writing world?

J.  Did I make any money from my writing this year? If so, how much?

In other words, take a good look at your writing life over this past year of 2024. Do this before you make some goals for 2025. Consider the things you did right, and also those that you might improve on this next year. Be honest in your assessment. Nobody knows the answers but you, so tell it like it is.

If there are some things that you can change, make it a point to work towards doing so. As the poster tells us, it can be the small things you decide on or change that can have great bearing on your writing world. 

 

Christmas Spirit--Lost and Found

 

Hospital Hallway

There are humorous Christmas memories, happy ones, and some that are sad. Today's story is a sad one, so be forewarned. It's about the first child we had back in 1966, and how I lost my Christmas spirit but then found it. We only had our baby girl for 7 weeks, but she did have a Christmas. And, so did I. When you write Christmas memories, write about the sad times as well as the great ones. It's a part of who you are.

Christmas Spirit—Lost and Found

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 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) Placed in a contest and was published in The War Cry, a Salvation Army magazine.

A Funny Christmas Memory

 

Here is another Christmas Memory. This one has been told many times in my family.

A Spoonful of Fudge

Spiral back in time with me to a mid-December day in 1947 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 art work. 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 spoonsful 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.

 

(c)

A Christmas Memory

With only a few days until Christmas, I am going to share a few of the Christmas stories I have written over the years. Today, it is a memory of finding the right tree back in my 1940s childhood. 

Finding The Right Christmas Tree

By Nancy Julien Kopp

 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.

 

Have You Found Your Writer's Voice?

 

(A former post that still has good information for the writer)

When I was a newbie writer, I asked a writer friend to look at a couple children's stories I had written to see if she could give me some tips or point out major errors. After she'd read the stories, we got together one afternoon, and over a cup of tea, the first thing she said about my writing was, "You have found your voice." 

I looked at her and wasn't sure what to say. Voice? What the heck was that? Being so new to this world, I hesitated to ask her for an explanation. She went on to point out things in the stories. I did learn more later on about what a writer's voice is. 

The important thing is to find your own voice. You don't want to mimic another writer's voice. 

A simple explanation of voice is that your voice as a writer is your style. It's the way you put words together in sentences, or in paragraphs. Elements of voice are word selection, writing structure, and pace. Every person is unique, as is every writer. The way I put words together should not be the same as you. 

Other parts of your voice are the way you allow emotions and feelings to come through. Also, your tone and rhythm, perhaps even patterns in the way you arrange words. 

Our writing voice lets our personality come through to the reader. 

Think about a handful of authors whose books you enjoy. Don't they each have a different writing style? Some are slow paced, while others race through the story, and you're right there with them. Some put long descriptions in their stories while others make do with a few adjectives here and there to give you a sense of place or let you 'see' the scene better. If you have a list of favorite authors, give some thought as to why their work appeals to you. What is it about their style of writing that makes you want more? The story itself is of prime importance, but so is the writer's voice. 

I've mentioned an author by the name of Charles Todd before. He (actually a mother/son writing team) has a series about a young detective at Scotland Yard, set in the early years after WWI in England. The stories move at a slow pace, but new bits and pieces keep me reading. The writer's voice comes through clearly, and stays consistent in each ensuing novel. I find that most interesting since the author is two people writing as one. 

Don't try to be John Grisham or Nora Roberts. Find your own voice. Write as only you can write. Be yourself. If you want to read about your writing voice in more detail, use a search engine and read several articles. 

Keep Your Passion for Writing Alive

 

A friend once had the poster above on her Facebook page. Definitely advice that is short and sweet but, oh so good. I'd like to have it blown up to poster size and tack it to the wall above my computer. Maybe I should get two and put one on the fridge as a reminder to get myself to the office to write. Or how about another in the laundry room? 

It's far too easy to allow life to get in the way of our writing, especially at holiday time. We have the best of intentions to spend X amount of time writing each day, but our world sometimes has other plans. Children need us, husbands require help in finding something. (What is it about men who have lived in the same place for years and years but still can't find numerous items?) The phone rings, or the doorbell. We're needed at a meeting or must run to the store to pick up milk and bread. The list could go on and on. 

We have responsibilities that must be met, and that's just fine. As long as we keep writing a primary task, we'll be alright. Just don't let it slip farther and farther down the to-do list. Once it hits near the bottom of the list, your writing world is going to become dimmer and dimmer. You run the risk of stopping altogether. I've seen people in my critique group quit. They say things like "I'm just not writing anymore." or "Right now, other things in my life are of more importance." Probably true but it makes me sad. I wonder if they will ever resume writing.

Most writers pursue their craft because they're passionate about writing. Make no mistake, it takes some doing to keep that passion lit. Like anything else, we sometimes have to truly work at it. We need some encouragement as well. And maybe we need some occasional success to keep the spark alive. 

For now, I'm going to let the poster of those four hunks keep me going. How about you? What will you do to keep your passion for writing alive?

What's So Special About Christmas Stories?

 

Have you ever thought about the favorite Christmas stories, ones that people read over and over again? What is so appealing that they have lasted for years and years? Same thing with those Christmas movies that were either adapted from books or written solely as a screenplay. And, also, the poems. Here are just a few that come to mind. You can probably add others to this list.

1. A Christmas Carol

2. Miracle on 34th Street

3. It's A wonderful Life

4. The Grinch Who Stole Christmas

5. A Cup of Christmas Tea (Narrative Poem)

6. The Bells of Christmas (Poem)

7. Twas The Night Before Christmas (Poem)

8. White Christmas

9. Polar Express

10. The Best Christmas Pageant Ever

11. The Littlest Angel

12. Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer

For one thing, Christmas is a holiday that touches the heart, the original Christmas story in the bible is filled with emotion as are the books, poem, and films with a Christmas theme. Some are happy, some are sad, but all bring out emotion in some way.

Christmas memories are often very special and these books and more trigger those memories we hold dear. Only yesterday, a friend whose early childhood years were in an occupied European country told me about the Christmases when she had no gift and how hard it was to go to school and not be able to tell her friends what she got for Christmas. Some were like here, others had families that managed to find gifts somehow. But even though it was a sad memory, her face lit up with that memory and maybe others that went along with it. Perhaps she remembered the little things her mother did at home to make it look like Christmas. It doesn't matter whether our Christmas memories sparkle with joyous moments to be savored over and over or are of hard times when perhaps the gifts became less important than the meaning of Christmas and the family being together.

Most Christmas stories have happy endings, even those who tell of difficult times but brought a treasured lesson. And don't we all love a happy ending? They also let us reach deeper into the meaning of Christmas and the many aspects of the holiday--beyond the gift giving and receiving.

I've written several Christmas memory stories but never a fiction piece. I think it is better to write the story during the holiday season as you are so tuned in, but marketing a Christmas story must be done in the spring or early summer. Try to write a Christmas story when it is high summer and you may not be able to achieve the same emotions as you might when you write it in December.

Have you ever written a Christmas story? Whether fiction or memoir, poem or lyrics for a song, it is probably special to you in your list of works. If you don't celebrate Christmas, but some other winter holiday instead, have you written a story that fits the theme? Holiday stories are fun to write, wonderful to read, and make memories if they are good enough.

By Nancy Julien Kopp - December 20, 2013 No comments:  

A Writer's Christmas List

December has arrived, and we begin to think about Christmas lists. Lists of things to be done, lists of gifts we must find and purchase, lists of holiday goodies for the teas, lunches, dinners, and parties we might have. But how about adding a wish list of your own? A List of Things A Writer Would Like to Receive.

That list might not be one where your family can run to the nearest Costco or Macy's to find the gift. No. Some of things on that list are mere wishes or possibilities. Let's look at what you might put on a list like this.

A.  A published piece once a month in 2025

B.  The ability to get an idea in your head to be totally coherent in print

C.  Extra time to write

D.  A great critique group that will help you polish your work

E.  A List of Markets that your kind of writing publishes

F.  A few new reference books on the craft of writing, maybe even one

G.  Patience while waiting to hear the status of a submission

H.  A muse who will be positive and give help when needed

I.  To be able to show, not tell, a story

J.  To use sensory details automatically as you write

K.  To use as many active verbs as possible

What else would you add to this list? Think about your writing life and what it has been, what it is, and what you would like it to be. 

If I could put each of the items on the list in a silver box and tie it with a big red ribbon, and send it to you, I would. Your family probably would do so, as well, if possible. Many things on that list are ones only you can find and use. 

It's Christmas, so why not reward yourself? 

 

 

Thanksgiving Memories--Write Your Own

 

I'm going to post a piece I wrote for my Family Memories Book about the month of November and especially Thanksgiving. Hopefully, this will trigger some of your own memories so you can write them for your Family Memories Book. Do now or soon after Thanksgiving before the next holiday craziness begins.

Thanksgiving Then and Now (written in 2013)

The crisp, sunny days of October somehow slid into damp, gray ones during November in the Chicago area where I grew up. The sun played hide-and-seek in the late autumn and winter months, mostly hiding. Wind swept across Lake Michigan, bringing a chill that seeped through warm, woolen jackets and into our bones. Un-raked leaves swirled around our feet with each new gust of wind, and naked tree branches dipped and swayed like ballerinas announcing that winter would soon begin. We walked faster on our way to and from school, and Mom often commented that we had roses in our cheeks when we came into the warm kitchen from outdoors.

 We accepted the chill and gloom of November because it heralded Thanksgiving. At school, we spent that month learning about Pilgrims and Squanto, the Indian who helped the settlers through that first tortuous winter. Teachers planned bulletin board displays with a Thanksgiving theme. Everyone celebrated this non-religious holiday. Rather strange since the Pilgrims came to this country seeking religious freedom.

Mom and my aunts prepared the dinner—turkey roasted to a golden brown and stuffed with a moist dressing redolent with sage, that teased for hours with its pervading aroma. Aunt Adeline made a second stuffing adding sausage, a recipe from the French side of the family. We had creamy mashed potatoes and rich gravy made from the turkey drippings, sweet potato casserole with a marshmallow topping, seasoned green beans, homemade yeast rolls, cranberry sauce, and the family favorite, Seafoam Salad, a mixture of lime jello, cream cheese, mashed pears and whipped cream.  Spicy pumpkin pie topped with whipped cream and apple pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream finished off our feast.

Dad’s two older sisters lived in the Chicago area, so we usually celebrated Thanksgiving with them, alternating homes from year to year.  We lived in a third-floor walk-up apartment but managed to fit all three families when it was our turn. The eight cousins, despite the wide range of ages, had a wonderful time together. After dinner, we got shooed outside to play. I suspect the adults sat around and drank more coffee, nibbled on the leftovers and did all they could to put off the dishwashing time.

No dishwashers in those days, so all the women pitched in and cleared the table, washed and dried the dishes, often with towels made from flour sacks. When my female cousins and I got older, we were drafted into the kitchen with chattering women and clattering dishes.  The men plunked themselves into chairs and listened to the radio or watched the small screen black and white TV when we finally had one.

After I married, I invited my parents and brothers to our home for Thanksgiving, even though I wondered if my mom would be hurt. She’d been the hostess ever since my aunts passed away. I needn’t have worried, for her answer was “Finally! I’ve been waiting to be invited out for Thanksgiving for years.”

Now, (2013) my children’s families make the trip home for Thanksgiving every other year. We use a few shortcuts in cooking, and we load the dishwasher instead of drying dishes, but the grandchildren revel in being with cousins just as I did. The faces around the table change, but the same warmth of a family gathering to give thanks remains. May it ever be so.

Writers Can Use a Helping Hand

 

Have you ever tried to help a toddler who stamps his foot and says "I do it myself."? He wants to be independent, and that's a blessing for his parents. What about writers who do the same? Shunning a helping hand with the attitude "I'll do this myself."? 

There are times when we can also use a bit of assistance. I've lost count of the number of times I've gone to another writer or writing group for a bit of help. It's nothing to be ashamed of. Sure, we all like to be independent, but there are times when even a tiny amount of help can send us straight into publication.

I've noted many a time when someone critiquing a submission in my writing group makes one small suggestion that can change a great deal, can make a good piece an excellent one. People who join writing critique groups are not afraid of asking for a helping hand. They're in the group to both receive and give assistance. 

What other helping hands can a writer find? How about that one writer friend who is willing to listen to whatever barricade you're facing and give some objective advice? Maybe over a cup of coffee or a glass of wine in casual conversation. It need not be a formal 'ask for help' situation. 

Another helping hand is one a writer can use all alone. That's reading a reference book on our craft. New ones come out all the time, and there are many old ones that have a lot of information, as well. When I started writing, I was aiming at writing for children, so I went to my local library and checked out every book I could find on that topic. I learned a lot and found that there was more to this kind of writing than I'd ever thought. 

One more helping hand for writers is that many writing workshops and conferences that are offered all over the country, or even in foreign countries. It would be fun to go to one in an exotic place, but there are others that are within driving distance for most of us. 

Joining your local and state writers' organizations will be one more helping hand for you. A way to increase and refine your writing skill, as well as mingle and converse with other writers.

You're not marooned on a desert island with no one to offer you a helping hand. You'll find them wherever you live. They might not come up and smack you awake. You're the one who must reach out and find them. 

In closing, I have one thought. Never, ever deny a helping hand. Reaching out and accepting them will be beneficial for you and your writing life. 

Description Is Important in Writing

Autumn Fun 

Our four seasons offer writers a great deal of material to use in their writing projects. Today's photo shows an autumn day with a tire swing hanging from the branch of a colorful tree. Study the photo for a while and consider what fun it might be to sit on that swing and pump your legs until you get to a good speed, then jump off into that pile of leaves. When you were a kid, you would have loved doing that, maybe even now. Or to show one of your children or grandchildren how to do so.

When we write stories, or even essays, description usually enters in. We describe a place where our characters or a situation is occurring. Why? Doing so brings the reader into the scene. We want them to experience some of what the characters are experiencing. What the colors of the season might be, how the weather is making them feel, what aromas might be in the air, how walking through those leaves in our photo would feel. And more. 

For an exercise use today's photo and write a descriptive paragraph. (or more) Make up the place, the characters, and the time, but concentrate on bringing your reader into the scene through description. 

A word of warning! Writing paragraph upon paragraph describing a place can lose your reader rather quickly. Make sure there is something happening along with your description. 

For a second exercise, try writing a poem using the photo as a springboard. Include a lot of description about this fall scene. Perhaps it will be a poem about a childhood memory, or one about what you saw while on a walk. Be creative. 

 

Writers and Patience

 

Many times, I have mentioned the two keywords in my writing life. One is patience and the other is perseverance. Today, let's concentrate on patience.

When did you first have the desire to become a writer? As a child? A college student? A young career person? After raising a family? Or maybe after you retired. Just because the desire takes root doesn't mean that is when you're going to give this craft a try. It may settle into your conscious or subconscious mind for a long time. For me, it was many, many years. 

Finally, you're ready to give writing a try. What's the first thing you do? Probably sit down and write a story that you've thought about a long time. You write it, then look at markets to decide where you'll send it. You find a magazine that seems to fit your kind of story, so off it goes. And then you wait. And wait. And wait. Finally, an email arrives telling you that the publication cannot use your submission. Suddenly, the realization comes that this business doesn't happen in a hurry. 

The person above probably made a lot of mistakes. After all, it's a first try. Here are just a few things this writer might have done wrong:

A. Wrote the story too fast

B.  Didn't edit the story before submitting

C.  Didn't let the story sit a few days before editing

D. Didn't study the markets well

E.  Expected to hear from the publication quickly

The writer was not patient. There are many steps in the writing process and they should be taken one by one. The list below gives a few suggestions for a new writer, and ones that seasoned writers should consider, as well: 

A.  Join a writing group 

B.  Take a class about writing and go to workshops at conferences

C.  Read, read, read about writing

D.  Join a critique group and take their advice to heart; learn that criticism is meant to help, not hurt

E.  Learn to accept rejection (not easy, but as time goes on, you can do it)

F.  Write on a regular basis, even if it is only 15 minutes a day

G.  The more you write, the better writer you can become

All the above requires patience. To be honest, I am not a patient person, but writing has helped me learn to be more patient than I have ever been. 

There is no magic number of months or years that will bring you success in writing. We're all unique people, all with different kinds of talents, all with hopes and dreams, but reaching the mountain top will take many roads and we will not all have to travel that road the same amount of time. Work on your patience while you also work on your writing skills. 

 

Wow Your Readers at the Beginning

 

Our quote for today tells us that 'The Beginning is the most important part of the work'. It's also one of the most difficult to get right! 

Consider what you must accomplish with the beginning of any works, be it fiction, flash fiction, essay, article, or poem. Your job here is to capture the attention and interest of the reader. 

Have you ever picked up a book and read pages before anything 'happened'? I find myself silently saying 'Get on with it.' Some who write novels choose to write many pages to set the scene. That may help the reader fix the place and time and more in their mind, but does it hold their interest? Are they wondering who the characters will be and what is happening to them? Quite possibly. It's alright to incorporate bits and pieces about the place, time etc as you move the story along. Once again, this is the writer's choice.

Starting out with a bang is going to make your reader want to turn the page to see what happens next. Make something happen in that first paragraph, something to pique the reader's interest.

When you begin a personal essay, you might pose a question, relate a vivid anecdote, introduce a character, or plant the seeds of an idea. But do it with gusto. 

That first paragraph or two, or first line of a poem, is your chance to hook your reader. Bore them then is to lose their interest quickly. 

Do a search for famous openings and see if you can find a common denominator. One we all know is the first sentence of Charles Dickens' A Tale of Two Cities. "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times." The many children's stories that start with 'Once upon a time...' tells children this story happened long ago and there is a tale to be told. 

As an exercise for today, go through your files of stories and essays. Look at the beginnings or the opening lines. What do you think? Can you revise it to something better? Or do you like the way you started your story? 

A reference book I often recommend for fiction writers is Beginnings, Middles, and Ends by Nancy Kress. It was published in 2011, but her advice is still pertinent. 

Writers--Can You-Step Outside the Lines?

 Do you remember learning to color when you were a child? A coloring book and a box of crayons, and you were off and running.  The aim, we were told, was to stay inside the lines. With small children's muscle coordination, that was not always easy. Still, we persisted until we colored inside those lines every time. Success!

How does that relate to writing? We're given 'lines' to follow when we attend workshops, read reference books on writing, receive critiques from fellow writers, and writers' guidelines on market listings. It's how we learn about this game of writing. The more we stay within the lines, the better writer we will be. Right? 

Maybe yes, but perhaps no. I read a lot of market listings, and recently, I've noticed something that several publications state in the guidelines. They say things like: surprise us, step out of the box, we want to see something new and different, make us stand up and cheer for you, show us something unusual, be quirky. In other words, they want to see writing that doesn't necessarily fit into those lines we've had drawn for us in the past. 

Wow! Here's your chance to spread your wings and fly into the unknown. You'll need an adventurous spirit and perhaps a personality that doesn't fit within those provided lines. Some writers wouldn't dare try to be so different. Others would relish the opportunity. 

Ask yourself if you would be comfortable stepping outside the provided guidelines you've followed for many years. Do you prefer to be safe or adventurous? What would happen if you do try something new and different? The same thing that occurs when you submit anything you've written. It will be accepted or rejected. 

Take note of what the guidelines of a publication ask for. If they don't mention looking for something new and different, quirky or way out, then you'd be better off staying within the old guidelines. But there are plenty of publications that are looking for adventurous writers.

So go ahead and color outside the lines a time or two. Perhaps you'll find a whole new world of writing. Our quote for today says 'Be a flamingo in a flock of pigeons.' We all know that flame pink flamingo is going to stand out brilliantly.  Are you ready to try?

Show Emotion in Your Writing

 

Emotion is part of our make-up as a living human being. We experience different emotions throughout our daily lives. Writers must make use of emotions to bring their stories to life. 

Robert Frost said, "No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader. No surprises in the writer, no surprises in the reader." 

If you're a writer who writes without emotion, it will show in your finished product. If there is little to no emotion in your writing, it ends up appearing like a speaker who speaks in a complete monotone. We once took a city tour on a bus in Prague. They advertised that the tour would be given in several languages. It turned out the guide could not actually speak those several languages. Instead, he had memorized the complete tour in English, Japanese and a couple other languages. Because he did not actually know the language, there was no inflection on words, no emotion in his voice. It came over as a total monotone. Yes, we learned something about Prague, but it became almost laughable. It was a perfect example for me about the importance of emotion in speaking and writing. 

Writers need emotion in what they write to connect with their readers. The writer must feel something in order to make the reader feel it, too. One of the best ways to do that is to show, not tell. If you write, Greta cried. I know what she did, but I don't feel much for her. If you write, The lump in Greta's throat gave way to tears and great sobs. She wiped her cheeks but could not stem the flow.  Maybe then I will think Oh, the poor girl.   

At certain times, we've been taught to keep our emotions in check, whether by parents or teachers. As a writer, you can let the emotions flow without worrying about what someone will think. If I write a scene about a pioneer woman encountering a rattlesnake in her garden as she is picking beans, I need to use emotion. Saying Ellen saw a rattlesnake at the end of the row of beans. alerts the reader, but there is no emotion. Write something like When she spotted the rattlesnake at the end of the row of beans, Ellen stopped, started to shake. She could not pick up her feet, only stared and prayed the viper would not move closer. Finally, she turned and ran to the barn to find Jesse, a scream trapped in her throat. 

Showing how the character felt and reacted reaches out to the reader with emotion, invoking emotion in them in return. 

Even when writing an essay, let your feelings come through. Do it when writing poetry, fiction, creative nonfiction. About the only thing I can think of where you might not use it is in a technical article. Even then, a few technical writers might conclude with their own feelings about the topic. Not always but a possibility. 

Don't keep those emotions trapped inside, Use them in your writing, and you'll be a better writer.                                       

Write With Clarity

 

Look at the glass of water in the photo. You see right through it. Nothing obscures it. It's plain for all to see.

How nice it would be if our writing had the same kind of clarity. As writers, we know what we're attempting to convey, but the reader doesn't always get it because of the way we write.

In our head, it's perfectly clear, but once we write the words, it might be just plain cloudy.

If I'm writing about my great-aunt's farmhouse, I know exactly what it looks like. I've been there. I can see it in my mind's eye. To convey the picture of that house to you, the reader, I need to be quite explicit. To tell you about the time Aunt Jane killed a rattler by the cellar door, I need to let you know that the door was outside and only inches from the ground on a slant. Once opened, you needed to go down a flight of steps to reach the cellar itself. If I didn't explain, the reader might consider a door in her kitchen leading to the cellar. A strange place to kill a rattlesnake. I can see it, but my job is to make sure you, the reader visualizes it, as well.

Using too many pronouns leads to confusion, as well. It may not be clear which him, her, they the writer is referring to. One way to fix that is to use the person's name and the pronoun when writing in the same paragraph. It's boring to constantly use the actual name, and it's confusing and also repetitive to use the same pronoun over and over. Intersperse them and make sure your pronouns are clear in which noun they are replacing or referring to.

One of the problems with readers getting confused is that many writers tend to write overly long sentences. The reader is then left to sort it out. Sometimes they do, and other times, it's a muddle. A simple fix is to put the same information into two or three shorter ones. The reader's brain can absorb those three short sentences more easily than an exorbitantly long one.

I was recently critiquing a submission in my online writing group. The paragraph opened with two sentences both using the word 'man.' But t was not referring to the same man. I read it twice feeling confused, then realized what the writer was saying. A simple fix was to use 'artist' in the first sentence and 'man' in the second one which showed she was referring to two different men.

When you edit your drafts, ask yourself if you have made things clear to the reader. Or are you taking too much for granted that they know what you're talking about? If you have let your draft sit and rest for several days, then read through it, you are more likely to see places where clarity is a problem.

Clarity is every bit as important as grammar and description and sensory detail and all the other things that go into our writing. Yet, clarity is not an issue I see addressed very often. Be aware of it.   

An Exercise to Set Your Writer's Voice Free

 The members of my online writing group are offered a freewriting exercise each week. A word is chosen at random, sometimes by opening a book and pointing at a word on the page. Other times, someone selects a series of connecting words for the month, such as the four seasons. 

What do we do with 'the word'? The exercise calls for the writer to start writing without stopping. Anything that comes to mind for ten minutes. It can also be done using fifteen-or- twenty-minute time slots. The important thing is to keep writing, no stopping to think, just let the words flow as your fingers fly over the keyboard (or pencil on paper). Nothing has to connect, and sometimes it ends up mere drivel. Other times, we find a golden nugget.

Many of us have ended up with the bones of an essay or story through this exercise. It's a good way to warm-up before you begin whatever project you're working on. Today's poster tells us that a freewriting exercise will 'set your writer's voice free.'

There are many writers who shun writing exercises. The thinking is that they don't do anyone any good and waste good writing time. After reading so many of my fellow writers results of the freewriting exercise, I can see the benefit that can result. I also note it in the ones I have written. Our subconscious kicks in, and it's sometimes amazing what results. 

Give the exercise a try using the words listed below:

A. reminiscent

B. brother

C. school

D. storm

E. baby

F. train

G. circus

There are seven words listed above, one for each day of your week. As an alternative, you can open a book or magazine, close your eyes and point to a word. If the word is something like 'is or the' take the one before or after. 

One of the best essays I've written emerged from a freewriting exercise. 

Adverbs Are Far Too Easy to Use

 

In school, we learn the parts of speech. Each one, we were told, has a job to do in the sentences we write. That's a pretty simplified version of learning a piece of grammar. But it will serve as an introduction to what I want to talk about today. 

Writers toss adjectives around a sentence to describe a person, place or thing--in other words, a noun. They also sprinkle adverbs into their dialogue tags with glee. They, too, are descriptive. How easy is it to have a character speak and then add an adverb in the tag line to let the reader know how the dialogue was spoken. Did John Doe speak his line harshly, happily, sadly, glumly, gleefully, angrily or some other ly word that describes a verb? Or sometimes writers use the one word adverb when a character does something. The writer wants us to know how the character performed whatever it might be. Easy enough to add one simple word. Maybe.

Using adverbs in this way speaks of a lazy writer. It tells us how the subject feels. It's far better to show what the speaker is feeling or doing. Dump the adverb and add something to show the same thing. If you do, you have a far more visual image. Adverbs can modify adjectives and other adverbs and not all end in ly, although a great many do so. 

Examples:

A. OK:   John shut the door slowly.

   BETTER:  John inched the door until it closed.

B. OK:  Sally ran to school quickly.

    BETTER:  Sally ran to school faster than a jackrabbit in the desert.

C. OK:  Sam turned suddenly.

    BETTER:  Sam slid to a stop and turned the corner.

D. OK:  "I want to go home," Joanie said loudly.

    BETTER:  Joanie shrieked, "I want to go home"

E. OK: "I don't know," Buddy whispered softly.

    BETTER:  Buddy's voice softened to a bare whisper. "I don't know." 

Do you see that the second sentence in each example is more visual? Tells the reader more? Is more interesting? 

If you want to learn more about using adverbs or replacing them, use a search engine like google to find more detailed articles. 

Writers--Don't Give Up!

 

A couple weeks ago, I noticed a sign stuck in the grass outside a preschool, and an identical one across the street in front of a house. A white sign, with large black letters on it. Nothing else. No curlicues, no flowers in the corners, no zig-zag lines. Just three words.

The two identical signs said Never Give Up. They're on a street I drive down frequently, and I've taken note of them over and over again. The first time, I thought that it was some good advice. After a while, I started thinking a lot about those words. Being me, I thought about that advice being something writers could benefit from. 

Writers get discouraged at times. New writers, seasoned writers, writers of all ages and backgrounds. When things don't work out with a new story idea, some feel ready to quit, give it up, find something new to write about. When rejections pile up, they feel despondent. When publications are at a standstill, they become depressed. A whole lot of writers wend their way through this emotional maze. 

What should you do when you're in a funk like that? Well, those three little words are a good place to start. I've noticed that every time I drive by those signs, that bit of advice speaks louder and louder to me. How about taking a sheet of white printer paper and writing those three words with a black marker in big letters? Then, place it somewhere in your writing area. You can't help but look at it every day. Black on white, three words of encouragement. 

Be determined to use those three words of advice in your writing life. Even when good things happen, like a great response from an editor, or comments from readers who loved a piece you wrote, or a story idea seems to almost write itself, keep those three words where you see them every day. 

I don't know who put those two signs in the ground in my town, but I think they will speak to a great many people who drive by on a regular basis. Three little words that make you think, pep you up, and give you a reason to keep going. Put those three words in your writing space and see what happens.

Writers Have Good Days and Bad Days

 

Today's poster is definitely Food for Thought for writers. We all have what we consider good days and bad days, but do we ever consider what each has done for us? Let's look at each part in regard to our writing life.

Never regret a day in your life:

Good days give happiness:  Those good days do make us happy and satisfied. The days that what we're writing goes well give us a terrific lift and makes us want to continue working on the project. The days when we receive an acceptance for a submission, we've made earlier make us smile all day. Days when another writer compliments us are great. Yes, days like this bring happiness and satisfaction,

Bad days give experience:  Bad days bring depression, desperation, and feeling defeated. Those days when nothing works in a section of writing that just won't gel for us. Or days when we receive a rejection, or worse--two of them on the same day. Days when our family responsibilities leave us next to no time to work on a wonderful idea we have. Hard as it may seem, those times do bring experience. We can look back later and know that maybe whatever occurred gave us exposure that might be beneficial later.

Worst days give lessons:  Ever had a bad day in your writing life that left you thinking "I'll never do that again!" If you did, it's obvious that you learned something. We need to push aside the bad part of the day and figure out what we can learn. Sit down with a cup of coffee or tea, or your beverage of choice, and look back on the day. Ask yourself what might be learned from whatever happened. 

Best days give memories:  How true this is. We don't forget the good things that have happened in our writing lives. Perhaps it was an award you earned in a writing group, or it could be receiving an acceptance twice in one day. Maybe you scored an acceptance in a high paying market. Or you wrote a personal essay that left you feeling very satisfied and ready to submit for publication. Or someone complimented something of yours that they had read.

The important part of our quote for today is that we take time to look back at each day, whether it was a good one or dark as night. We should look back and ask ourselves what we can learn, how we might make use of it, or how we can change. Yes, every day has something for us to benefit our writing life in some way.   

Do Writers Need Courage?

 

Writers need a lot of different traits. Knowledge of the craft is beneficial. A passion for writing is helpful. Time to write is essential. What about courage?

I think that courage is one of the most essential traits a writer should have. It's not easy to send your writing to an editor or press in hopes of publication. Some may think that's a silly statement, but believe me, it does take courage to submit your work to a publisher. Why?

No one wants to be rejected. If it happens over and over again, the writer has to have the courage to continue submitting. The only people who understand what being rejected makes a writer feel like is another writer. Their family and friends come up with a "Oh, that's too bad." or "I'm sorry to hear that." Then they go back to their lives, but the writer is still smarting. 

Is there any writer who does not react in some negative way to a rejection? If so, they are in the minority. Newbie writers can be devastated by a rejection, while seasoned writers are disappointed but move on. As we send out more and more of our writing for publication, we develop a thicker skin, and the rejections are not as upsetting as when we first started our writing life. That 'move on' bit is important.

Do you need courage to stand up in front of other writers and read something you've written? Many writing conferences offer time for a Read-Around. It's easy for some writers to participate, but others have a hard time standing before a group and reading what they've written. For them, it takes courage. Once they agree to read a few times, it becomes easier. 

Another time a writer needs courage is when an editor returns a submission saying they might want to publish the piece if the writer will make some changes. What if the changes are big ones? Ones that change the entire mood of the piece, or take away some of the writer's favorite parts? Will the writer have the courage to say no to some of the changes? That's taking a chance that the editor will not publish the piece. It depends on how strong the writer feels about making the changes. 

Some writers need courage to market themselves as a writer. I've often heard people say something like "Writing is the easy part, but marketing and then selling myself is tough." A lot here depends on the kind of personality the writer has. Outgoing people have little problem in promoting themselves and their work. Those who are more introverted need to gather every bit of courage they have to market themselves and their work to others. 

Some writers are baring their soul in personal essays or poems. That's not easy to do, especially at the beginning of a writing life. One thing to keep in mind is that perhaps your writing will be of help to someone who reads it, or it will touch them in some way. It takes courage to put your personal thoughts in writing and share with others. 

Yes, writers do need to have courage or to develop it as their writing life moves along. It's one of many traits that can help a writer'