Should I Join a Writer's Group?

Do you belong to a writer's group or association? If not, why not? I've heard excuses like 'I don't have time for that.' and 'They don't write like I do.' and 'I hate meetings.' 

Nothing is perfect, but I believe that writers' groups have enough benefits to give them a gold star. There are a variety of groups that offer different benefits. 

A. Online critique groups: I have belonged to one for many years, and I know that I am a better writer because of them. When others critique my work, they look objectively and point out things I never see, even when I am editing and revising. Besides improving my writing, the women in my group have become real friends. Where do you find a group like this? Go to your favorite SEO and use keywords like 'online critqiue groups' or 'online writing groups'. There are many different kinds. My group is for women only and open to International writers. It's relatively small, varying with 20-25 members. There are others that are quite large and can probably offern more because of size. Personally, I prefer the smaller size as it is more personal. 

B. Local in-person writing groups:  Many towns have groups like this. I found one many years ago through my local library. Way back then, a group of older ladies who liked to write met one Sunday afternoon a month. I learned a lot merely by listening to them chat and hearing them read pieces of their work. Now, our community has a few writers' groups that meet face-to-face. 

C. State organizations: Most states have a writers organization. I joined mine 26 years ago and have never been sorry. They offered me an opportunity to meet other writers, to attend workshops and an annual convention as well as monthly meetings. When Covid hit, we started having zoom meetings, and they were so well received that they continue to this day. My state is over 400 miles long from east to west border, so the zoom meetings allow everyone to hear guest speakers, attend meetings, and more. Once again, use a search engine to find your own state organization for writers.

D. Other online writing groups: There are other online groups that are not critique based. They offer information for writers, news about submissions, and more. 

By joining writing groups, I have connected with a great number of writers. I benefit from their understanding of the writing world, their successes, and their friendship. I have also found that the involved you become in a group, the more benefits you receive. 

One word of caution. There are writers who start joining writing groups in person and online to the point that they spend the bulk of their writing time with the groups, which leaves less time for actually writing. I encourage you to find and join a few groups, maybe even narrow it to one or two, but do remember to leave plenty of time to write. 
 

Aim for Strong Writing

Our photo today is of a man lifting a barbell, a strong man. He probably could not lift a barbell of great weight when he first started this exercise. He worked at it a little at a time, increasing the weight and his strength a little at a time. 

Like this man, we writers must work at being a strong writer. Strong writing doesn't merely happen.  

There are a number of things that will increase the strength of our writing. Here is a list of some of them:

A.  Getting rid of unnecessary words like very, usually, really. They clutter up our writing. Go through an old piece of writing and circle each unnecessary word, then delete it. These words don't help your writing. They become added clutter. We often use them in our everyday speaking but try to lose them when you write.

B.  Repetition of words and ideas can also give that cluttered look to your writing. When you edit, look for repetition of words close together and replace some of them. Also, watch for repetition of ideas. Sometimes, we writers think that the readers won't 'get it' unless we repeat. Don't do it.

C.  Overly long sentences can confuse a reader. They can often be cut into two separate sentences and become even stronger. 

D.  Be sure your verb tenses are consistent. If you are writing in past tense, make sure you stay in past tense. Or in present tense, keep it throughout. 

E.  Cutting words is a good way to be a stronger writer. Not only the unnecessary words mentioned above, but we can cut other words. We will often end with sentences that are more clear and stronger.

F.  As writers, we should work on increasing our vocabulary. By doing so and using the words we've learned, we will strengthen our writing. 

G.  Show don't tell. Every writing book you might read will emphasize this. A story in which a writer uses showing rather than telling will always be stronger and far more interesting.

H.  Use sensory details. When you show, rather than tell, you have a perfect platform for using sensory details like sight, sound, smell, touch, and taste. 

I. Bring emotion to your writing. If the writer has emotion, so will his/her reader. 

J.  Writing exercises are not a waste of time as some writers contend. On the contrary, they help us as much as the weightlifter when he continues to increase the size of the bar bell he uses.  Daily writing exercises develop our writing muscles.

All the things listed above will aid us in becoming stronger, better writers. They take time. They require effort. In the long run, they will make you a stronger writer. 

 

Book Review: The Queen's Cook

 I recently read The Queen's Cook by Tessa Afshar, Historical Fiction that pulled me in quickly. Not only historical but biblical, as well. The bible brings us many wonderful tales. Ms Afshar has brought the Book of Esther alive in a fictionalized version of the well-known story from the Old Testament.

In the book, we see Roxannah, the daughter of a Persian Lord who has fallen on hard times, grow from a young girl to a young woman who works and thrives in the kitchens of Queen Esther despite the spiteful antics of the other cooks.

Her friend, Adin, is Jewish and a court physician who helps her get a job as an assistant cook when he sees the poverty her family lives in. They see one another daily, and their relationship grows, although neither wants the other to know their feelings.

The king, guided by his prime minister, sends out an edict that all Jews are to be killed on February 28. Queen Esther risks her own life by asking the king to change the order, that the Jews should at least be allowed to defend themselves. The horrible day leaves many lives changed forever. 

Roxannah worships the gods of the Persian people of that time, but her growing relationship with Adin opens her heart to the God he worships. We follow them as they uncover a plot to kill the king's other favorite wife, who is Esther's enemy, as they relate their knowledge to Queen Esther, and she rewards their loyalty. 

The book follows the story of Esther in the bible quite well, adding these two fictionalized characters. We see the culture of the times clearly, and also note that the jealousies, hatred, and tender hearts are much the same as today's people. We learn of the procedures of life at court from the king down to the lowliest servant. I found the descriptions of some of the foods made in Esther's kitchen most intriguing, as well as the interplay of the assistant cooks who made the girl's life miserable. 

The writing is excellent, and the pages turn faster and faster as you get into the story. Credit a fine author for that. Christian Historical Fiction at its best. A four star read.

Add Easter Memories to Your Family Stories

Me at age 3 on Easter Sunday

A repeat post for Easter weekend.

Easter weekend is drawing near. Do you have a family story that revolves around Easter? Below you will find some questions that might trigger some memories.

A.  Are Easter celebrations different today than when you were growing up? 

B.  Did you have a family Easter Egg Hunt?

C.  Was your Easter Egg Hunt indoors or outside?

D.  Did your community sponsor an outdoor Easter Egg Hunt?

E.  Did your family go to church on Easter Sunday?

F.  What kind of clothes did you wear on Easter?

G.  What kinds of foods did you have for Easter dinner?

H.  Did you get an Easter basket filled with candy and maybe small toys?

I.  Did you color eggs?

J.  Did your family celebrate alone or invite other family members to Easter dinner?

K.  Did you always go to Easter dinner at one of your relatives?

L.  What was the weather like on Easter Sundays where you lived?

M.  Was shopping for new clothes for Easter important in your family?

Hopefully, the questions above will help trigger some memories for you. If you don't have an actual Easter story to write, write your 'memories of Easter.' Add it to your Family Stories book. That collection can have memories in it as well as family stories. 

Several years ago, I wrote some Easter thoughts with a small story within those memories. 

The photo with today's blog was taken at Easter of 1942, soon after the United States entered WWII. 

Easter Thoughts

By Nancy Julien Kopp

I’ve been thinking about the Easter celebrations of my childhood years in the Chicago area during the 1940’s. When Easter fell in March or early April, we donned colorful spring dresses and coats to walk to church in sharp north winds, even a little snow on occasion. 

On one of those bitter cold Easter mornings, I had a new aqua-blue spring coat and hat that I’d looked forward to wearing. Mother told me it was much too cold to wear it. “You have too far to walk to church. You’ll freeze,” she said. 

I begged and begged. “Please let me wear it. I’ll wear a sweater underneath.” Tears slipped from my eyes as I waited for her to give in. They were genuine, not a ploy. Wearing that new coat was a monumental need at that moment at age eight.

Mother relented, but I did have to wear the sweater I’d proposed underneath my lightweight, pastel-colored coat. I think I was very glad to have it as my brother and I headed to church to hear the Easter story once again. My parents never attended church with us. Theirs was a mixed marriage—Dad was Catholic and Mother Methodist, and neither ever gave in to the other. But we kids all attended the Methodist church and Sunday School. Dad polished our shoes every Saturday night so we’d look our best on Sunday mornings. He buffed them to a high shine and lined them up in the living room.

The day before Easter, we dyed eggs in glorious colors. Coffee cups filled with hot water, a dye tablet and a splash of vinegar covered the kitchen table. We arranged the eggs on a big platter with artificial grass as a nest. The Easter Bunny hid them while we slept that night.

The Easter Bunny usually brought us a few chocolates, jelly beans and a new comic book. He also hid the brightly colored eggs in our living and dining rooms. What fun it was to discover the decorated eggs, one or two of which we always found in Dad’s shoes left out overnight.

Later in the day, aunts, uncles and cousins joined us for a special dinner. Mother usually fixed a leg of lamb or a big ham, glazed with brown sugar and mustard, cloves inserted in the scored top. Many side dishes weighed down the dining room table-- scalloped or mashed potatoes, two or three vegetables, a jello salad, homemade rolls, pickles, olives and pickled beets, and a springtime dessert of some kind, cream pies, berry pies, or a cake with whipped cream frosting. The aroma of all these good things filled our small apartment.

When we were all too full to move, it was time to do dishes. No dishwashers, but all the women pitched in, and they were finished in no time. Maybe not all the women. I had one aunt who always announced she needed to use the bathroom as soon as the cleaning up began. Off she went, and she never appeared in the kitchen again! The clatter of dishes and the chatter of women filled the tiny kitchen. My cousin, Carol and I were drafted at an early age to dry the silverware, a job neither of us liked. We hurried through our task, so we could walk to the park to play the rest of the afternoon.  Occasionally, we finished our Easter celebration by going to the movies. We sat transfixed at the fabulous musicals starring Betty Grable or some other glamorous star of the 1940’s.

. The rebirth of springtime flowers, trees and bushes still symbolizes the meaning of Easter for me. Christ’s resurrection created a rebirth for all Christians, and as He taught us to love one another, I also think of the love of family as part of our Easter celebrations. It isn’t only the ones of my childhood, but for today, as well. When we spend the Easter holiday with our son or daughter’s family, going to church, having a celebration dinner, and being together. Not so very different than all those years ago. 

 

Our Introduction to Poetry

Nursery rhymes were our earliest exposure to poetry. Mothers and fathers have repeated them so often that children soon learn to say them, too. Mother Goose books are almost a must for every small child. Many of the rhymes have been set to music so we sing them as well as recite.

Children get a little older, go to school and learn rhymes to recite when jumping rope. It was mostly a girls' activity, so I'm guessing it's my women readers who can bring several to mind. Here's one we used often:

Down in the valley,

Where the green grass grows.

There sat Nancy 

Sweet as a rose

Along came Michael

And kissed her on the cheek.

How many kisses

Did she get? 

(And next, I would have to jump until I missed while the other girls counted)

Still in grade school, we moved on to rhymes to sign other girls' autograph books.  Ones like:

You are

 2 good

2 be true

(Then we signed our name beneath the rhyme)

Who can forget one of our early ventures into poetry with the following poem (and variations thereof)?

Roses are red,

Violets are blue, 

Sugar is sweet,

And so are you

All of these 'poems' had one thing in common. They rhymed. Besides that, the poems had a rhythm, almost sing-song for some. There have even been drinking rhymes composed, with mug in hand, most likely. 

We studied poetry in junior and senior high school. They were longer and somewhat difficult to interpret, but most of them rhymed. Unless you were an English major and took more than the basic English courses, you probably didn't become familiar with free verse or the Japanese forms either. 

My favorite poetry to write is free verse. There needs to be no rhyme or specific rhythm. You're free to write what is in your heart, what you want to tell the world. You're not hampered by all the other specifics. It's the kind of poetry all of us can write. Yes, you too. 

Even in free verse, we have some concerns. Choice of words is important. Active verbs show while passive ones do not. We also consider things like alliteration, onomatopoeia, and senses to bring the poem to life. Similes and metaphors enter the picture, too. Not sure what some of these are, check them out on your favorite search engine.

If you're a prose writer, have you attempted to write free verse poetry? Give it a try. It's not that difficult, and you might find you enjoy it. I learned that the more I wrote, the more I wanted to keep going. You don't need formal training (although I'm sure it helps) to write free verse. I say that from my own experience.

During this National Poetry Month, think about the place poetry has played in your life, from early childhood on. If you're one who claims you 'don't like poetry,' make an effort to read some this month, reading with an open mind. No one is going to like all poetry, just as no one likes every kind of prose. We try this and that until we find what we like. 

I saw a sign in a gift shop once that amused me. It said:  Wine is poetry in a bottle. That probably appeals only to those who sip wine now and then.

Celebrate this National Poetry Month by reading some poetry. Read a poem more than once. Once is merely an introduction. With each reading, you'll see something more in the poem.

 

Writers, Don't Place Limits on Yourself

 

Writer A hits a rough spot in the novel he is attempting to write. He sighs, sits back, and tells himself to quit trying to write this book. You know you can't finish it. You know you can't make the words sing. He gives up.

Writer B has a problem in the middle of the novel he's working on. I know I can figure this out, he tells himself. What's the best way to do it, he wonders. He knows that walking away from the work in progress for a few days, or even weeks, might help him find an answer. Or he'll go for a walk, sit in some quiet place and think about the difficult spot he hit while writing. Sometimes that silence opens his mind enough to find a solution. 

The difference between these two writers is that Writer A gives up pretty easily. Writer B doesn't limit himself. He is willing to work on the problem in one way or another. 

I once worked for a man whose favorite saying was "Success comes in cans, not can'ts". I got tired of hearing that phrase multiple times, and so did the other women who worked in his dress shop. Even so, as the decades have gone on, I've thought of his adage many times, especially in my writing life. 

If you think you can do something, you'll probably be able to accomplish it. If you fear you cannot, you probably will not have much success. 

Our poster today says, 'There are no limits to what you can accomplish. except the limits you place on your own thinking.' I have said multiple times on this blog that _______ is up to you. You are the one in charge. You are the one who decides what you can or cannot do. You are the one who does or does not put limits on your thoughts about your writing life. 

We all know that quitting, or giving up, is by far the easiest road to follow. It's much more difficult to take the road that puts no limits on your thinking about what you can accomplish. That road is longer with more than a few bumps, but it will take you better places in your writing world.

If you give up, will you always wonder what you might have accomplished in your writing world if you'd approached it differently? Would you rather be the one who wonders, or the one who kept working until he found some success? With the second choice comes hard work. No one ever said writing was easy. It isn't. 

Yep, 'success comes in cans, not can'ts".

Ronda Miller's Poetry Lives On

The poster quote today is from a writer friend of mine whom I met in our state organization for writers many years ago. Ronda Miller was a person you noticed in a crowd, and later, you were drawn to her poetry. Ronda was a good person as well as a fine poet. Always there to help others. She passed away this past December after a courageous battle with a serious health condition. She lives on in the words of the many poems she wrote over a lifetime.

Ronda loved her family and friends, she loved the Kansas prairie where she grew up, and she shared that and much more through her poetry. Her books of poetry include:

Going Home: Poems from My Life

MoonStain

WaterSigns 

Winds of Time 

I Love the Child 

Ronda wove stories of life, death, and love in her poetry. most of which was narrative. To read one of her poetry books brought her to you as though you were having coffee with one another in a cafe, preferably one filled with books. Or perhaps it brought the reader to her, as well.

I have several of Ronda's poetry books, but the poem I like best is the one that is the title of one of her first books--Moonstain. Ronda's mother committed suicide when her two daughters were quite small. A tragedy that affected Ronda's life in many ways. The poem, Moonstain, touched me deeply, and still does every time I read it. You can read it below.

MoonStain

Barn doors pushed shut

an indication something worth

investigating was within. It took

all my strength to open, slide

to close again. New birth

in pungent urgency led

me to the still born calf

quite warm. I nestled

in the hay beside it, placed

my arms around its neck.

I knew what death was, heard

whispers of my mother's

not long before. I could hear

the mother cow's loud bawling

from outside the back barn door.

I felt the spirit of the calf lift,

swirl around me, disappear. It

grew cold. I felt damp fear.

I sat in the caliginous stall

until my sister came, took

my hand, ran with me past

my grandmother's moonlit

garden of hollyhocks,

strawberries, rhubarb and iris,

past the spot where a rattlesnake

soaked up water from

a sprinkler one August day,

past the rotted elm

where fire ants swarmed

in balls before they

tumbled to the ground.

We opened the rusted

screen door and

tiptoed to bed,

where I lay crying,

because it felt so wondrous,

because it felt so good,

until the moonstain

no longer spread

across the floor.

          (c) Ronda Miller

Ronda Miller has left our earth in body, but she lives on through the myriad numbers of poems she wrote. A family member, a friend, a mere acquaintance, and even one who never knew her can feel her living yet in the words she left. 

Her books are still on sale at Amazon and Meadowlark Press.