Rejected

I got my first official rejection in the mail today. Surprisingly, I'm not all that upset.

At my first Pennwriters meeting, a lovely lady named Jan showed me an issue of a Christian Poetry magazine called Time of Singing that she had illustrated. I used to write poetry in my high school days, and thought, "why not just try?"

I visited their website and got their submission requirements and printed out three poems that I thought might be a fit, though in truth, none of them seemed very similar with those I had read in that issue. Most of my work covered topics such as teenage angst and newfound love and were not at the same maturity level that they were probably looking for.

Still, I sent off three that seemed the most "grown up", one dealing with nature, one about introspection, and one about the poverty issue in third-world coutries and our Christian duty toward them (this one probably would have been the best fit, had it not been just a little preachy). These went into the envelope along with a SASE, and I did my best to put the issue out of mind.

Today, approximately one month later I received a response, thanking me for my interest, but letting me know that my poetry wasn't the style they were looking for. Perhaps that was just her nice way of saying "You stink!", and if so, I'm grateful for her subtlety.

I'm going to take it, as Steven King did, as the mark of a true writer. Rejection is just a part of the process. It's proof that you're putting yourself out there.

And so, I'll file it away as tangible evidence of my rite of passage, and try again.

Weekly Wednesday Writing Prompt

Write a story that begins with an explosion.

Into the Unknown

It was Martin Luther King, Jr. that said, "Faith is taking the first step even when you don't see the whole staircase."

Though he was speaking of our faith in God, I believe that the same holds true in writing. In fact, I think there are many parallels between faith and writing.

Like Peter, we Christians are asked to step out of the proverbial boat into uncharted waters. To believe in something we cannot see, yet feel all around us and in the depths of our soul. Sink or swim, we leap blindly into the unknown, praying that grace will buoy us up. In her book, Chapter After Chapter, Heather Sellers notes that, "Like writers, people of faith focus on processes, not results." The joy is in the journey. It's where we learn, where we grow, where our relationship with God is formed.

As writers, we often start out with just an idea. A bit of plot line or a compelling character. We have no clue where it's going to go, but we step out on faith that one sentence will lead to the next, and the next, and with any luck, the next. Before the words hit the page, we feel it, sense it deep within that here is a story that must be told. But it is only on the way, when we're smack dab in the thick of it, that we truly discover what the story is all about.

We just have to keep putting one foot in front of the other, and step out into a world full of possibilities.

Dream Jobs

5 Occupations I'd like to hold

vicariously through my characters:

(in random order)

1. florist

2. own and operate a children's bookstore

3. jewerly designer on the craft show circuit

4. design fabulous nurseries for expectant parents

5. pirate princess

What's your top 5?

Spark Words

Today's Spark Word is:

JAM.

Weekly Wednesday Writing Prompt

By the early 1990s, more than 30,000 Americans held reservations with Pan Am airlines for a trip to the moon.

Write about one of these people.

Time Tip

Here's a Writer's Tip out of the pages of The Pocket Muse: Ideas and Inspiration for Writing by Monica Wood:

Just for today, try writing at an unaccustomed time. Night owls can fire up the coffee pot and get cracking by dawn; morning folk can investigate the wee hours, just to see what happens.

Try it and let me know if it gives your creativity the jolt you've been needing!

Pickles of Praise

So on the 10th I attended my 2nd Pennwriters meeting, and my first as a member, meaning that I was allowed to share my own work as well. I ended up taking the 4 1/2 page (double-spaced) prologue about the little girl who's hiding behind the couch when her parents die. I was so freakin' nervous, but I did it! First of all, we make up copies for everyone so they can write their comments on them, and then we have the option of reading them aloud ourselves, asking someone else to read for us, or having a silent read. I chose to read aloud myself, since I've been over that piece a million times and I know the inflections better than anyone else. I forced myself to read at a proper speed and with the correct emotion (even shouting when shouting was called for) and refused to allow myself to feel embarassed by doing so. If I want them to really feel it, I have to read it how it should feel.

Afterwards, we can let the others know what kind of critique we want (only positive, only on flow or grammar, etc) and I told them to just let me have it, because I truly want to learn. Basically, I told them to let me know if I have any business writing at all.I found out that they do what they call "Pickles of Praise" where if someone really loves it, they draw a little pickle (I know, I laughed too) on your page to let you know.

Surprisingly, the only negative feedback I received (if you can even call it that) was that several people agreed that one section seemed too sophistocated for a four-year-old's thinking, and someone else brought up that I used too many exclaimation points (she circled them all to show me, and boy was she right!).

Aside from that, I received one pickle, and several encouraging comments, such as:

"Good start!" from Todd

"Chris, very good! Do not change from using a narrarator to the child's POV." from Gene (it was brought up that maybe I should do it from Rilee's POV, but most people, myself included, agreed that this wouldn't work.)

"Keep writing. You have talent. Good emotional tension and description." from Dave

"Excellent debut! It really holds my attention, Christy! Keep working! (underlined twice)" From Jean

"Very good! Well done and reads well. Keep up the GREAT work." from Tom

"Pickle. Story line is great." from Tina

"Keep writing. The prologue is awesome. Be careful of slipping in and out of characters/narrarator. Have some in control." from Olivia

"Oh yes! You ARE a writer! POV is not confusing for me. Using a narrarator is fine, and then the man and woman." from Alice.

"Interesting! Powerful stuff. A lot of promise. Lot of tension, emotion." from Catherine

All in all, I was pretty encouraged! I can't wait for the next meeting!

Weekly Wednesday Writing Prompt

Take the reader behind the wheel with the worst driver you've ever known.

Spark Word

Today's spark word is:

SUPERFLUOUS.

Sticking By

Sometime last week, while lamenting once again that I cannot currently afford to enter a writing correspondance course (namely, the Christian Writer's Guild), it occured to me that I might be able to do something about it. After all, the library has a wealth of writer's reference books, and I've been taking advantage of that for some time now. So I decided to "homeschool" myself. I bought myself a notebook and a Pilot Precise pen (well, the pen I had) and began reading books not as a reader, but as a writer, critiquing and taking notes all along the way. Writer's reference, fiction, YA novels and childrens books: the genres that I'm interested in writing myself, and the self-help books to get me there. It's amazing how different the process is. Certainly not quite as enjoyable, but definitely more enlightening. If a line hits me as especially funny, I jot it down. If a find myself skimming over a few lines to get to the more juicy parts, I jot that down as well. Basically, I'm just disecting each book in order to discover what works and what doesn't. Mastering the craft.

One thing I came across since I began "schooling" myself was how a book-in-progress is like a living, breathing thing. It has a mind of it's own. As long as you're there for it, devoting your time and energy to it's care, it showers you with affection and small tokens of appreciation. But the minute you turn your back on it, and walk away for a few days, it becomes like a sulking child, difficult to manage and refusing to tell you what's wrong, no matter how long you persist in asking. As a way of warding off the story's disconsolation, I have developed a new system that works for me, and perhaps it will work for you as well.

The basic concept of "sticking by your book" is probably nothing new to seasoned writers but for some reason, it had never occured to me before. I came up with it because I am one of those people who thinks they never have time to write. It all goes together with what I just stated, about your book-in-progress being a living, breathing thing. You (meaning me) must no sooner consider leaving it behind than you would your newborn child, but rather, take it with you wherever you go. Obviously, we cannot all carry with us a sheaf of pages all day long, but you can carry a small notebook in your purse, or even a blank index card or two in your shirt pocket. When you are not writing, you can still be thinking of writing, going over scenes in your head or patches of dialogue or character traits. When you have time to spare (for me, it's waiting in my car out in front of the school for my kids to come out, for you it may be waiting in the doctor's office or during your lunch break) you can do a few, simple exercises that you can make up yourself, take as little or as long as you like, and that will keep you connected and focused on your project.

Here are a couple of sample excercises that I made up for myself.

1. The "Name 5 things". Totally off the top of my head, I'll scribble down 5 things that are on my character's desk right now. Or describe 5 pictures that are hanging on her livingroom wall. 5 items that are sitting out on her countertop, 5 things she might have on her to-do list, 5 things she'd have in her junk drawer. It doesn't really matter if I use them in the story or not, what matters is that I'm getting inside her head and seeing her world more clearly.

2. The "interview". As if you were doing an article for the paper, ask any (or all) of your characters a series of questions from what they had for breakfast to what's one thing they'd like to do before they die. Again, it's not about material for your story (though it is, in a way) it's just about getting to know your characters.

3. The "what if". Just for the heck of it, jot down what you think would happen if something totally unexpected happened to your character (pick one) right now. What if a car suddenly pulled out in front of them on the road? How would they react? What if a prank caller called? How would they respond? What if they forgot their backpack/purse/wallet in the last scene? How would they find it?

4. The "that's interesting..." Pay attention to anything that peaks your interest that day. An unusual name. A word you haven't heard in a while. A story you overhear. Write it down and see if you can incorporate it into your story (or save it for another one).

I'm sure there are others you can come up with. It's all about baby steps. Baby steps that keep you and your book connected and flowing like a well-oiled machine.

If you try it, let me know how it works for you!

Spark Word

Today's Spark Word is:

MEANDERING.

The PennWriters Group Has A New Member!

Thank you, God! An answer to prayer!

As you know, I have been searching for a writer's group to join for several months, to absolutely no avail. On Thursday, I opened up the Showcase (our local "events" section of the paper) to the Literary Events and discovered that the PennWriters Group was having a meeting at Barnes & Noble on Saturday afternoon. I contacted the group leader via the e-mail provided and got all the necessary information I needed.

So, guess where I was today from 1-4? You guessed it! I attended my first writer's group meeting! I can't remember the last time I had that much fun! Several of the members (there were about 25 people in attendance, including 2 other newbies) brought print-outs of a few pages of their work for us to mark up and critique and everyone was so helpful. Honest, yet kind. I really enjoyed it! And man, can those people write! I wonderered what might be said if someone's work was truly awful, but if today's meeting was any indication, I don't think I'll have to worry about that at all. Hopefully, I don't start a new trend!

You can't bring your work in for critiquing unless you're a member, so I'll have my turn at the next meeting. They meet on the 2nd and 4th Saturdays of every month. It takes about a week to process an application, so if I send mine out on Monday morning, I should be good to go.

I'm so nervous! What if they think my writing sucks? You know what though? I don't care if they do. As hard as it would be if they do, I'm determined to take whatever they say and learn from it. I don't care how much work it's going to take! It's time to make my dreams come true.

Weekly Wednesday Writing Prompt

Write about someone who has to abruptly leave town.

Blank Page Horrors

I have never before read a book by Stephen King. I am not a fan of horror by any means, though I did enjoy the movie version of his book, The Shining. And yet, the other day as I was browsing the Writing Reference section at Barnes and Noble, his book entitled "On Writing" somehow fell into my hands. I took it over to one of those big, comfy chairs and sat down with it for a spell. The next thing I knew, I was several chapters into it and my husband was nudging me to let me know that it was time to go.

I didn't buy the book that day, but I did check it out at the library a few days later (poor, starving writer and all). In the past week, it's been my constant companion, going with me wherever I go (I always carry some sort of book) and I've gained quite a bit of wisdom and knowledge about the craft from it.

Though he does mention his own works (it's really a memoir and writing book combined) it's definitely not designed for the horror or suspense writer (there's no push in that direction whatsoever) but just any writer in general. There's lots of helpful information and insight into the life of a writer, as well as the craft, including this little nugget that I purloined for my quote book:

"The scariest moment is always just before you start. After that, things can only get better."

How's that for a motivational kick in the pants?

I'm nearly finished with it, but I'm going to add it to my Amazon wishlist. I know that I'm going to want to read it again in the future. Besides, he deserves every penny he earns from it.

For all you beginner writers out there, do yourself a favor and go pick yourself up a copy (be forworned, there is a small sprinkling of f words in it). Zombies will come attack you in your sleep if you don't. ;)

Spark Word

Today's Spark Word is:

SLURP.

Weekly Wednesday Writing Prompt

You're sitting in an outdoor cafe waiting for someone when you receive a text message from an unrecognized number. The text says, "I have the money and hid the body." You think this is a practical joke from a friend, so you play along at first. But the more texts you receive, the more you realize that it isn't a joke. Write the text conversation you have with this unknown texter.

Mocking me!

And as if to mock me, it is now suddenly working. It still won't let me go back and edit the other posts though.

What am I doing wrong?

What is with the lack of spaces?!?!

Here's what I hate: paragraphs that are not seperated with a space so that they look like a big jumbled mess! I have tried and tried to edit my posts so that it leaves a space between paragraphs, to no avail. I have tinkered with my settings and layout, and still my posts read like one bad, run-on sentence. With punctuation. Whatever.

Can anyone please tell me how to get my spaces back? I sometimes leave up to 10 spaces between paragraphs, yet when I hit "publish" and view my blog, they're all removed. It's driving me bonkers!!!

The Deal

I've been wanting a new laptop for nearly a year now. I say "new", but what I really mean is "my own." Our old laptop works fine, as long as you don't move it. The battery has passed on from this life, so that whenever you unplug the computer while still running, it crashes immediately. It's all hooked up in the back to the printer, DSL, my ipod shuffle dock, etc, so it's a pain to move around. And the desk we use it at is made for a youth, so it's not comfortable to sit at for long periods of time.I just want a computer that I can write on, that I can take with me to the coffee shop, or outside on our patio, or wherever, without worrying about if I have an outlet nearby.

It doesn't have to be anything fancy. Just any old cheap laptop will do.

Yesterday my husband made me a deal. He said he will buy me a laptop IF I can complete three consecutive chapters of a novel. He knows all too well about my 2-pages-then-bail writing habits.

What do you think? Do you think I can do it?

Writer's Groups

The most prolific time of my life was when I was in 8-10th grade. My best friend Charity and I both loved to write, so we would go home each night and write and then bring our new pages to school the next day and switch. Whenever we got a chance (when the teacher wasn't paying attention, when we were finished early with a test, during study hall, etc) we'd read what the other had written and when we were done, we'd offer each other constructive criticism and encouragement. The other two best friends in our group, Mindy and Julie, didn't write stories (though they did dabble in poetry) but they would also eagerly look over our work and ask the tough questions that every writer needs ("I didn't understand this part," or "I'm not sure what you meant by that.") and it was so encouraging. Having someone else to write for, was like knowing your target audience. It was so valuable in keeping me focused and ensuring that the readability level stayed consistant.

I think part of why I can't seem to get farther than page 2 anymore is because I don't know my target audience. I don't have anyone to focus me and keep me going. To ask those hard questions, and offer encouragement. Perhaps not all writers need this, but I think that I am one who does.

For this reason, I think I would benefit greatly from being part of a Writer's Group. The problem is that I don't know where to find one! If I knew just one other person who might be interested, I'd try to start one myself, but I don't know anyone who writes anymore. I've tried to google it online (didn't help), search the newspaper (couldn't find anything) and even thought of putting up a flier somewhere, but I can't find anyplace that allows you to do that anymore.

Does anybody have any tips on how to find or form a Writer's Group?

Spark Words

Spark words are words meant to jump-start your imagination and get your creative juices flowing. Given to 10 different people, you'd most likely get back 10 different stories or scenarios. And that's the beauty of it! You decide what it means to you, or how it works in your story. You can use it in your exsisting work or use it to start something brand new!

Wanna try?

This weeks Spark Word is:

CONFORMITY

The Unknown Girl

Beside my bed there stands a picture in a distressed white wooden frame. The photo itself is black and white -- a snapshot of three young girls around the age of 10, I'd say, though I certainly wasn't there to document it. It was taken sometime in the early 1940s, from what I've been able to gather, and the three young girls are distant relations of mine.

On the far right is Rachel, standing straight and tall in her wrinkled, ill-fitting striped dress. Her dark hair is bobbed just above her chin, her face is strong and proud. She looks athletic, as if she prides herself on being able to run faster and climb higher than all the boys.

In the middle is Reba Jean. She is a little more petite than the other two, a little more refined. Her light-colored dress fits properly, her white socks neatly folded over above her little white shoes. Her blond curls frame her sweet face, but the slight wrinkle in her forehead and the turn of her lips hints at the dramatic. I can easily picture her lost in a book, or wandering through the wood with daisy chains in her hair, imagining that she is the princess of some unknown realm.

But it is the girl on the left who intrigues me the most. In contrast to the other two, she is wearing pants -- some sort of pale shaded overalls with a white button-down shirt and socks, and what looks to be loafers on her feet. Her wind-tossed hair looks as if it hasn't quite decided whether to be straight or curly. Her eyes dance with laughter and her smile is full of mischief. She is obviously the brains of the operation, and I have no doubt that she was able to talk the other two into performing whatever tricks she could think up on their poor, unsuspecting relatives!

There is something in her that speaks to me. Perhaps it is because when I was her age, I looked a bit like her. Whatever it is, I will probably never find out. I know almost nothing about her, other than that her young life was cut tragically short. Not long after this photo was taken, she and her father died in a house fire in West Virginia.

I don't even know her name.

In honor of St. Patrick's Day, a poem.
One I wrote just over 12 years ago,
as a mere girl of 19.

That was the year I had a love-affair
with all things Irish.

Deep down, I think I still do.


Patrick’s Song


When the moon is full and the stars are bright,
She walks beside the sea,
Beside the blue-black sapphire sea
So far away from me.

While waves lift their snow-white crested heads
To dance upon the shore,
Upon the sandy, Irish shore
Until her footprints are no more.

She sits down on a stony reef
And looks out into the night.
The night is dark, but the moon aglow
Has bathed her face in light.

As she gazes down at a placid sea
Her image is mirrored there.
There is her smooth, white, silken skin
And red-gold satin hair.

Her pale lips, her violet eyes,
Deep as a thousand seas, . .
O capture the image of my long, lost love
And carry her back to me!

For ‘tis you, O sea, that lies between
And keeps us forever apart!
O carry her image back to me,
To the arms of my longing heart.

And when fades the night and the first hint of light
Touches Margaret beside the sea,
Set her to soar on the wings of the mourn’
And carry her back to me.


by Christiana R. (formerly B.)
February 19th, 1996

Abandoned Work

There comes a time in every writer's life when we must abandon the piece we are working on and move on.

What? You say, I could no sooner abandon my work than abandon my own child!

Yes, it's true that we writers to become extraordinarily attached to our work. And after all the time and effort that goes into birthing the piece, and bringing it into careful existence, it's no wonder. But there are times when, try as we may, we simply cannot get a piece to move forward. It remains obstinately mired and floundering, and we flounder right along with it. Our muse flees, and creativity vanishes like the early morning mist. At these times, what may be required, is to cut and run while you still can!

But all is not lost. Consider these words from The Pocket Muse: Ideas and Inspirations for Writing by Monica Wood: If, after all your best efforts, the piece you're writing must be abandoned, do not despair. There is no such thing as wasted writing. Sometimes you must search and destroy, search and destroy, search and destroy before finding your true subject. Kiss those hard-earned pages goodbye -- fondly, if you can manage it -- and take out a beautiful, clean sheet. The new, marvelous thing you are about to write will emerge not despite those abandoned pages, but because of them.

And so, do what you must. Tuck those pages away in a drawer, toss them into the fireplace, or attach them to a bottle rocket and send it into the sky. It matters not. What matters is that you set yourself free. Your work will live on in new and glorious ways!

All it takes to start is a fresh sheet of paper.

Weekly Wednesday Writing Prompt

Think of the person who annoys you the most. Close your eyes,
and mentally send them to the farthest place you can think of.
Can you picture them there?

Now, open your eyes and begin writing with the phrase,
"The postcard arrived in the mail today..."

Weekly Wednesday Writing Prompt

As I was walking through the woods one day, I happened upon a....

You fill in the blank.

Weekly Wednesday Writing Prompt

Write about the elephant in the room.

Weekly Wednesday Writing Prompt

Are all your characters reasonably attractive? Ugly someone up and start anew.

Weekly Wednesday Writing Prompt

Write about two people trying to fit into a space (physical or metaphysical) meant for one.

The Tempest

My latest creation. Large, faceted Sodalite teardrops hand-wrapped in sterling silver wire. It was my first time with this technique, and if you think it looks easy, let me tell you, my friend, you are grossly mistaken. I used an entire order of sterling silver wire (what is it, 5 feet?) to wrap these babies. I think my mistake was using dead soft wire. It kept getting kinked up, and it's so soft, there is no way to straighten it back out. All attempts just led to breakage. So one length of sterling silver wire and two hours later, viola! After all, it is the end result that counts, right?

I named these lovelies after a poem I wrote several years ago entitled "The Tempest". Read it and perhaps you'll see why...

The Tempest

The wind is a torrent of darkness
Tossing the churning sea
The rain slices down in it’s madness
And chortles in it’s glee
Leaping and dancing blissfully
In it’s dark and twisted game
Daring the ocean to retort
And buffeting it to shame
In it’s heart it knows no mercy
No stillness lingers there
No goodness can become of it
Within it’s evil lair
It takes the sea it’s captive
And clutches it deep beneath
Then sets it free to burst forth
With what it may bequeath
On and on through the endless night
The tempest rises and falls
Shaking an angry fist to the sky
It smashes the watery walls
‘Til at last it robs all breath within
And takes on a more silent form
As it sinks to the grave of the ocean floor
And finds death at the end of the storm.

I wrote that on March 20th, 1998, at the age of 21. It's actually one of the last poems I ever wrote. Somehow I seemed to dismiss penning verse as a childish pastime. I wonder why? I miss it now, the way the words seeped across the page, so fast my hand could scarcely keep up. At the time it seemed like a never ending well, but it has long since dried up.

I wonder how long the drought will last...

Weekly Wednesday Writing Prompt

Change a "thank you" to a "screw you" and see what happens.

Infinate Possibilities...

So, we just got back from spending the weekend with my Grandparents at their home near Harrisburg. We had such a great time. We spent the days playing with the kids in the pool (the water was 85 degrees!) and the evening sitting around the table playing cards, chatting and laughing hysterically. I love my family!

Being the bead-obsessed girl that I am, on the morning after we arrived, I borrowed my grandmother's phone book and did a quick perusal for bead shops. I found one in nearby Carlisle, and luckily, my Grandma and Aunt were happy to drive me there. They used to own a jewelry store, so they know a little bit about my sickness. ;)

The bead shop was called Infinity Beads, and they had a wide selection of gemstones, crystals, glass, silver and anything a beader could want or need. I had given myself a mission, however, to find something unique and unusual and stake my claim on it. After more than an hour of "scanning" it was time to get serious and make my choices. I ended up with some great-looking chartreuse pottery beads and some tribal carved bone which will become a bracelet and earrings. I also found some neat-looking seed pods called "tears of Job", which are going to make fabulous earrings. I bought enough for two pair, because I am definitely keeping one for myself! I love taking the ordinary and turning it into something incredibly unique.

I'll update you on how they turn out!

Weekly Wednesday Writing Prompt

Write about the one who got away...

And regretted it.

Bohemian Rhapsody

Here is my latest jewelry creation, and my favorite piece that I've made as of yet. I call it "Bohemian Rhapsody". I've had a lot of special orders come in lately and thanks to a weekend vacation and a subsequent killer cold, I am days behind in my work.

It's not all bad though. Being sick this week gave me a lot of time to think about a book series I've been plotting for years but have never seemed to be able to put more than a chapter or two of down on paper. The characters have pretty much taken hostage my every waking thought this week, and are beginning to tell me more about themselves, about their secret thoughts, about their pasts and their future. Every day it's a new discovery. Every day they've got a tidbit more to share. Every day they confirm to me that theirs is a story that needs to be told.

Consider me a willing hostage. ;)

Weekly Wednesday Writing Prompt

I've decided that maybe I'll try a Weekly Wednesday Writing Prompt. What do you think? It seems to me that there must be other people out there like myself who enjoy a creative kick-in-the-pants. ;) It's worth a shot, anyway.

So without further ado, here is the first (and hopefully not only) installment of the Weekly Wednesday Writing Prompt.

1. Take two people who can't stand to be in each other's presence and force them to take a taxi together. What happens?

If my prompts inspire you to write anything, I'd love to hear it!

A True Artist

I picked up the latest issue of Stringing Magazine last week. I love this magazine, because it offers not only great technique, but a wide array of visually stimulating wearable art. And as it only comes out 4 times a year, it's a rare treat for jewelry artists like myself.

So, as I'm flipping through the magazine for probably the fifth or sixth time (each time you look, you notice some detail you passed over before) I realize that there are three designs in particular that have really captivated my attention on each perusal. All three unique and different, which is why I was quite surprised to read that they were all done by the same artist, and a man at that, one Mister Andrew Thornton.

The designs are as follows: The Raven Queen, a dark and stunning combination of black Rutilated Quartz and Lava that I will file away in my mental rolodex for my own future designs, Flight Patterns, an artistic blend of peacock pearls, garnet, watermelon tourmaline and copper chain that showcases a darling bird bead and toggle clasp, and last but not least, The Lotus Eaters, which features glowing chalcedony and pineapple quartz, mixed with sterling silver, all centered around a gorgeous green-blue ceramic pendant.

These three designs alone would have sold me on the magazine, but as it is, the pages are packed with many other lovely, original designs, though perhaps not quite as original as those of Mr. Andrew Thornton. I discovered that he has his own Blogspot, by the way. It's andrew-thornton.blogspot.com in case you're interested in checking it out.

Well, Mr. Andrew Thornton, you've inspired me. Inspired me to branch out of my own comfort zone, to say "the heck!" with symmetry and perfectionism, and to begin to design from the heart, from the soul. To just let go and let come what may. To be inspired and to inspire.

Maybe one day you'll find a design of my own gracing the pages of this fine magazine. ;)

The Mists of Morning

Once again, too much time has passed since I posted last. I have been so busy with my business, Whimsies Boutique, I've hardly had a moment to breathe! Above is a pair of earrings I created just last night. They're called "The Mists of Morning". They're made of pale Blue Agate Rounds, 6mm Indian Sapphire Swarovski Crystals, 4mm Light Azore Swarovski Crystals and Bali Silver hung on Sterling Silver earwires. The beads themselves whispered their name to me the moment I placed them together. :) Ah, see, there is the writer in me peeking out!

I'm still enjoying my Etsy store (whimsiesboutique.etsy.com) though I'm slightly disappointed that I haven't made more sales. It takes a while to break into a new site though, so I'm not being too hard on myself yet.

I've had a bunch of special orders lately, which take up the most time, as it is no longer my own vision I'm trying to bring to fruition with gemstones, but rather me trying to capture the vision of someone else, and play it out in a way that hopefully goes even beyond their expectations.

I am severely disappointed though that the bead show I have been attending (okay, I've been there twice, but still) has seemed to drop off the face of the earth. When I was there last, they told me that there would be another in September, same as last year. But yesterday when I logged on to their website, there was no listing at all for that show for the rest of the calendar year! Living in the Northeast, there are not a lot of Bead Shows around here. Even the one I was speaking of required a 2 1/2 hour drive. But it was totally worth it for the variety of unusual beads at rock-bottom prices I always came home with. *Sigh*

Well, I'm off. I have a huge Firefighter Birthday party to throw for my middle son, who is turning 4 tomorrow and aside from the presents, I have virtually nothing done. I am such a procrastinator!

Get Lost

Today is Wednesday, which means that tonight at precisely 10:00, my butt will be planted firmly on the couch, elbows on knees, eyes riveted to the TV screen while I watch my favorite show.

The questions, the mystery, the suspense... the writers of Lost know how to tell a story. They give you just enough information to get your hooked, and then slowly begin to reel you in.

I can't understand those people who say the answers don't come quick enough. Don't they realize that every question answered means a nail in the coffin for the show?

See, I'm one of those people who, when reading a good book, can hardly put it down. But once the pages in my right hand start to dwindle in comparison to those in my left, I begin to mentally reprimand myself for being in such a hurry. I don't like to see a good thing end.

It was announced on CNN.com this week that the producers of Lost have signed on for three more seasons. Knowing exactly when the end will be, has given the writers a new sense of direction. From the article, "Lindelof said having the end point in sight was 'incredibly liberating. Like we've been running a marathon and we actually know where the finish line is for the first time.' "

I can hardly anticipate the twists and turns this show will take over the next three years, but I know this: it's sure to be a wild ride! I can't wait to find out what happens next, though I'm determined to be as patient as a puppy, gratefully accepting whatever scraps the writers are willing to toss my way!

After all, all good things must sadly, eventually come to an end.

A Collection of Inspiration

Some people collect seashells. Others Matchbox cars or porcelain dolls. Me? I collect writing prompts.

Ever since that "The Girl and The Box" story back in high school (see archives), I've been addicted. The idea that a single question or suggestion could open the mind up to a world of possibilities is so tantalizing, so wondrous to me.... It's like a fathomless sea of creativity awaits just beyond the bend of the imagination.

I suspect that over the years I've collected thousands of writing prompts. I could probably write a book filled with page after page of them.

Who knows, maybe I'll start sharing them here. Anyone interested in a "Writing Prompt of the Week"? Let me know.

Clickty-Clack

There's a certain romance about a typewriter. A certain satisfaction in each clickty-clack, inking letters, then words, then whole sentences onto a page. A resonance, a permanence, a sense of finality.

These days you must train your ear to hear the whisper of the computer keys. Backspace and Delete keys are too accessible. They cause one to question, to doubt. "Is that really how you want that to read?" "Could the wording be more pleasantly arranged?" Unless you click that print icon, there is nothing to show for an hour's work. A day's. A year's.

I was a teen when typewriters became obsolete, too young to understand the full significance of that change. Computers ushered in a time of super intelligence, of knowledge at the click of the mouse, of drive-thru information. I admit, I am as chained to my computer as the next person, and yet, I cannot help but be wistful for that time, not so long ago, when writing was a process that stimulated all the senses, the smell of the ink, the sound of the keys, the sight of crisp pages piling higher toward completion...

The golden age of the typewriter.

Do you Etsy?

A friend of mine recently introduced me to Etsy.com. It's a site similar to eBay, though much classier, and specifically for people who make handcrafted items. I'm loving it already. I set up shop there the other day, feel free to check it out!

The address is www.whimsiesboutique.etsy.com and I'd really love to hear your thoughts and comments!

Above is a pic of a bracelet I made not too long ago. It features Japanese Cloisonne (there should be an accent over that e, I haven't figured out how to do that on the computer), freshwater pearls and swarovski crystals.

One of these days I'll get back to writing!

Working Girl

I got a job! I can't believe it! After more than 5 years away from the work-force, I am now back in the swing!

It was just a fluke that I happened to stop at our local Michael's Craft Store on a day that they were having a job fair for craft instructors. On my way out the door, I just happened to see the sign, and saved the number on my cell. I called the next day and got an appointment and after a couple weeks of minor mixups (they lost my background check) they finally called me in and asked me to fill out payroll information! So you are looking at the new Jewelry Instructor for Michael's!

What's great, is that this won't interfere with being a SAHM at all. I only need to teach 2-3 projects a month, and if I offer a morning and an evening class, that's still only 6 classes a month I have to teach. The evenings are great, because my husband will be home from work, and I can make arrangements for the morning classes as well. Come fall, my oldest two boys will be in school, so that only leaves my little one who would be in need of a sitter those mornings, and it's just for 2 hours. It shouldn't be a problem.

Anyway, I'm really excited and nervous at the same time! I've taught Bible Studies and Women's Meetings in the past, but never something like this where I have to actually make sure they walk away with a completed project that they can be proud of! I have to use Michael's products exclusively, so it might be a little hard to come up with new ideas and techniques to teach, but I'm going to do my best!

It's going to be nice to get to spend some time with other adults for a change!

Help Me With Formatting?

For the life of me, I cannot figure out why I can no longer leave a space between paragraphs when I post. I leave spaces as I type, but when I post, they are no longer there. Without them, it just looks like a jumbled mess. Can anyone help?

I've messed with my settings, checked out the Help center and wasted nearly an hour trying to find out how that works, to no avail. Obviously, I am no computer genius. If anyone can offer me any assistance, I would be greatly obliged. :)

And now it's mocking me. For some reason it is working in this post, but did not work in the previous 6 or 7. Strange. It also will not allow me to go back and edit the spaces into my old posts.

It seems I have a mystery on my hands.

My Heart's Desire

It's mine! It's mine at last!

This past weekend my grandpa turned 80 and my baby turned 2. We had a huge party for them down in Maryland at my Uncle's house, and my Aunt and Grandma told me to bring my jewelry along. I ended up making enough in sales to treat myself to the object of my desire for nearly the past year. A writing program called WriteItNow by Ravenshead Services.

I won't go into detail about all of it's capabilities, as I already did so in an earlier post, but I am so happy with it. It's perfect for what I need, and at just $38.55, it's a steal. Their web address is http://www.ravensheadservices.com/ incase anyone is interested in finding out more.

It organizes everything into neat little folders for easy access. Character bios, plot, ideas, research, it's all right there with just one click of the mouse. It even has a character generator and a readability monitor that tells lets you know if you're reaching your target audience, and well, there I go singing it's praises once again. ;)

And the best part? On the way down I started thinking up a story to tell my boys incase they got bored and restless on the 8 hour drive. Almost immediately I came up with something, and though it was a little above their level, and I never had to use it, I started boucing ideas off my husband, and for the first time ever, came up with an entire story premise, from start to finish! I'm usually great at beginnings, but I quickly fizzle trying to figure out where the story is going. This time I've got it all thought out, all I have to do left is fill in the details -- the part I love most.

With a new story idea and a great, new writing program, who knows? I just may finish my first book!

Wish me luck! ;)

Glow-in-the-dark

Remember the Glo Worm craze of the early 1980s? My brothers and I collected and played with them. I remember it being the highlight of my Easter when I discovered Glo Butterfly in my basket one year. Each night I'd climb into bed with my little Glo Butterfly on the nightstand right beside me, lighting my way to dreamland. The only problem with the Glo Worms was that after a day or two, they would lose their "glo". But my mother showed us how to hold them up to a lightbulb for a few minutes before bed each night to make them glow like new.

Funny, I had all but forgotten about them until last Sunday. Our pastor was preaching about light and darkness, and how darkness cannot quench light, but rather light dispells darkness. All of a sudden this image popped into my mind of three children huddled around the lamp, patiently holding our Glo Bugs up to the bulb for their nightly dose of "glo". Without those few minutes of being held in the light the Glo Bugs would have faded, and eventually we would not have been able to distinguish them from the other shadows in the darkness.

Way to drive it home, God. ;) I got the message loud and clear!

We are meant to be lights in a world cloaked in shadows and darkness. But the only way to retain our light is to spend time "walking in the light", fellowshipping with our Creator and Savior. If we don't come to Him for our daily dose of "light therepy" we will soon fade until no one can see the difference. And if they cannot see the light, they will not be drawn to it, and will remain, as we are, lost in the shadows.

I love how God takes such a simple message combined with a simple childhood memory to get His point across. Which brings to mind another simple memory from my childhood.... A Sunday School class full of little children holding miniture candlesticks and singing:

"This little light of mine... I'm gonna let it shine!"

The Notebooks

Finding myself with some unexpected free time the other night, I decided to go through a box of my old writing that had been sitting in storage for years. Opening it up was like opening a window to the past, all these notebooks full of childish handwriting... poems, and unfinished stories. To this day, I've never finished an entire book. I always get so frustrated at my lack of perfection and end up doing re-write after re-write until I finally give up. Lately, I haven't even bothered with the re-writes. I just give up or don't bother even starting. When did I become such a cynic?

Anyway, I got a kick out of some of those old stories. I would spend hours flipping through catalogs, looking for just the right characters, and then cut them out and paste them on the cover page. On the first page of one of the notebooks I had written, "Don't miss the other books in this exciting series:" and then carefully penned the title of book one, which consisted of four chapters! I think my sudden outburst of laughter woke my husband. But it felt good to recognize my flaws, how blissfully naive I was, and also the raw talent. It caught me off guard. I didn't expect some of it to be as good as it was.

Of course, much of it was redundant. There were at least four or five stories about twins that were separated at birth and later found each other. A bunch more about large families of children who had been orphaned of one parent and had to set out to find the long-lost other. But there were a few surprises in there as well.

In the end, I found I couldn't part with any of it. Notebook after notebook, each with it's own story, went back into the box to be stored away for the next time I am ready for a trip down memory lane.

Always and Forever

This is the man I married. The man I bore children to. The man I love. Valentine's Day seems to be the appropriate time to declare how deeply and passionately I love my husband.

I was reading through some old poetry that I wrote in my early twenties, just before I met the man that I would marry. The longing was palpable, the questions burning. Would I find someone to love me? Would he accept my flaws and cherish my ecentricities and admire my strengths? Would he be good and kind and wise? Would he be tender, compassionate, and pure? I was so afraid I'd have to settle. So afraid that I was unworthy for the kind of man I desired. So afraid I might never find a soulmate. So afriad to hope.

If I could go back in time, I would put my arm around that frightened young woman and tell her that everything was going to be allright. That love would find her sooner than she could know. And that the man who would love her would surpass anything she could have ever dreamed. I'd tell her that life would take her on twists and turns, that it would bring her equal measures of joy and pain. But all the while there would be someone to hold her hand, to lift her up, to carry her when she could not go on, and to cherish her with his every breath. I'd tell her that she would be loved infinately. She would be loved. I'd tell her that this man would be her lover, her friend, her champion, her companion, her confidant. That he would care for her with tenderness, that he would strive to truly understand her thoughts, her feelings, her dreams. That he would bring her flowers, catch her tears, and hold her hand. That his touch would thrill her to every inch of her being, that his words would captivate her heart. I'd tell her... I'd tell her... so much.

As it is, I cannot go back. I can only go forward. Forward in the strength and confidence that I am daily loved. This man, this man I married... how that happened I'll never know. I only know that for the rest of my life I will endeavour to deserve him. That each day I am made better just by being near him. He brings out the best in me, he makes me want to be... more than I am. Everything I hope to be. To love, and be loved.

Superbowl Sunday!

It's Superbowl Sunday, everybody! Sportsfans all over the world, unite! Well, at least in the United States.

I never really was much of a football fan, to be honest (gimme baseball over football any day), but after marrying a German and living abroad for several years, I'd say my knowledge of the sport is almost non-existent. I do know that the Bears are playing the Colts, but I couldn't tell you the name of a single player on either team. But will I be watching? You bet! Any excuse to throw a party.

You see, I love to cook. And hors d'oeuvres are one of my favorite things to prepare. I'll be serving everything from the traditional chicken wings in a homemade ginger marinade and cheesy sausage dip with tortilla chips, to bruschetta on garlic toast, brie, proscuttio, and a White Chocolate Raspberry Truffle Cheesecake for dessert. Thankfully, I've got a very willing husband to help me dispose of all this food!

Colts or Bears, who wins doesn't matter, as long as I remain the Queen of the Kitchen. ;)

Inspiration Point

Where do you get your inspiration?

When I was a little girl, we lived for one year in a big white house on an acre of land. Bordering the edge of our property was a grove of miniature pine trees. My imaginative, young mind was drawn to it like a magnet. It was the perfect place to hide out from pesky younger brothers, and the reality of my parents' dissolving marriage. The dense crop of trees were like friends to me. Just tall enough to shelter me from the outside world, and thick enough to make me feel secluded but never afraid of getting lost. Weaving my way through the labyrinth, they tickled me with their soft, prickly branches and tousled my curls. They welcomed me, spreading the floor with a blanket of needles so thick that not an ounce of moisture seeped in.

My favorite tree stood near the middle of the grove. Completely bare on one side, it's destiny was never to be a Christmas tree. But it proved the ideal place to rest my back, knees bent and notebook in lap, and spin my fanciful tales. I called this place my Enchanted Forest, for in it, I was transformed.

That summer was really the marking point for the beginning of my career as a writer. It was then that I fell in love with the written word, and began to venture out into the world of creativity. I filled many a spiral-bound notebook with my musings. I wonder what ever happened to them? The notebooks are long gone, but the stories (most of them, anyway) are still fresh in my mind.

My husband and I took a drive in the country last week and passed that old house. It was the first time I'd been back in all these years, and I was shocked to see those stately pines, tall and regal against the evening sky. Do they even remember me? I pressed my hand to the glass in silent greeting as we drove past. They made no acknowledgement, as far as I can tell.

I wonder, has the magic vanished? Or do they clutch it still, deep inside? I close my eyes and envision them as they were in their youth, when light filled their depths and they freely shared their secrets.

Ah, my Enchanted Forest, the birthplace of my imagination! I shall always hold you dear in my heart.

Getting Into the Grind

At last the holidays are over and I am settling into the daily grind. The gym membership turned out not to be my only gift: my husband got me an adorable little ipod shuffle to go with it. Already I find myself missing it when it is not on my person! Music is a real motivator for me. I must apologize if my "Wish List" post sounded as though I was in any way ungrateful for my husband's gift. He is a wonderful man who knows my heart. My frustration was not directed at him, but rather, at myself for continuously making excuses as to why I cannot seem to do the one thing I long most to do.

At any rate, I am now reaping the benefits of his generosity, attending the gym for two hours every Monday, Wednesday and Friday while my oldest is at school. The younger two go with me to the free babysitting facility they have at the gym. The mornings are usually quiet, so they get plenty of attention and the arrangement is working out marvellously for all involved. Working out to the music pumping through my ears keeps me in my own little world, no one to bother me, and few interruptions makes for a veritable breeding ground for creative ideas in my mind.

So far I have tried out a Spinning class (hated) and a Pilates class (loved). I think I will join the Pilates class, which meets for one hour every Monday morning. It really kicked my butt last week, but in that strangly addictive way that has you coming back for more. Plus, it was nice to be part of a group again. Being a SAHM for the last 5 years and moving all around the globe didn't give me many opportunities to make new friends.

Wow! Between the potential to meet some very interesting people and quietly observe others, not to mention getting my butt kicked back into shape, joining a gym may be the best mental and physical health boost I've had in years!

To your health, everybody!

A New Year, A Fresh Start

What is it about a new year that makes us believe we can start anew? A fresh rebirth, a chance to cast off the old, selfish, indulgent persona, and assume a new, more likeable one?

In any case, I too resolve to make a change this year. I have weighed myself in the balances and found myself lacking. And so I resolve just one thing really -- to become a better person in every aspect of my life. Broken down, it looks a little something like this:

10 ways in which I resolve to better myself and in effect, the world around me

1. To find my center. To have an on-my-knees meeting with my Creator and Saviour and together, re-establish my purpose in this life. And to keep my center within arms reach, by consistant, daily prayer and reading of the Scriptures.

2. To open my heart more. To not be afraid to reach out to others around me and to tell them how I feel about them.

3. To shower my loved ones with affection. To keep their needs in my focus, even if it means allowing my own to fall by the wayside.

4. To laugh more, yell less. To be the mother to my children that I never had myself and always longed for.

5. To never again be the victim. To choose not to let the poor choices of others affect me.

6. To respect others. Help out the elderly. Assist the children. Pause and hold that door open for the person behind me. Say excuse me. Don't be rude.

7. To respect myself. To realize that this body is the only one I was given. Accept it. Love it. Care for it. Eat healthier, excercise frequently, get in shape and stay there!

8. To realize that time is money -- or at least, more valuable. Show that you care and that you are someone who can be counted on. Be on time.

9. To listen more, talk less. Allow others the chance to pour out their hearts and be validated. Don't interrupt.

10. To realize my dreams. Stop living the fantasy and start making them a reality. Educate yourself, learn from others, and never stop until you reach your goals.



And there you have it.

Happy New Year, everybody!

Christmas Wish

What is your Christmas Wish? My only wish this year was for the Write It Now program I've been babbling about for months now. My wish is for more than a program, it's for the realization of my dream, the dream I've been carrying around so long now, I can't remember ever having another. I want to write! I want to go to sleep every night and dream in fiction. I want to wake up every morning and pound the words out on paper (well, computer screen), I want to live the life of a writer. I want to stop making excuses. Start making time.

I already know what I'm getting though, and the writing program isn't it. My husband "surprised" me the other day by taking me to the gym I've been wanting to join, the one right across the street from my son's preschool, and therefore the one I can actually get to three times a week, and signed me up. It was a wonderful gift, God bless him! A gift that I wanted, that I needed, a gift that will (eventually) restore my self-confidence, make me a more content person, and thus bring me added happiness. It is not, however, my dream.

His reasoning behind holding off on the writing program was that he knows that I will not have time to use it. This is probably true. And yet I am growing more and more frustrated by the fact that I seem to find time enough for everything in my life except for the very thing I long for. The very thing that I long to devote my time to. Will life ever slow down? How long must I wait?

Slogans thrust themselves at me, "There's no time like the present!", "Life is short!", "Sieze the day!" And I realize that life is passing and I am still not a step closer to my dream than I was when it first settled upon me.

Sacrifices must be made. But at what cost? My family? My household? Ah, time, you are as elusive as an evening mist. Running to catch a hold of something that remains just beyond my grasp...