Shelley Ledfors

Coastal Moods

2012-01-23T15:43:00.000-08:00

It's A-Z-two! This week-C. To read more--or join in--visit Ordinary Lives.

I love living along the coast. We are so blessed to be within minutes of the bay, harbor, ocean and other coastal scenery.

One could photograph the coast daily and never take the same picture twice.

Here are a few of my favorite photos which depict a variety of coastal moods.

Coastal Calm

Tall Ship tour in Coos Bay, OR

Coastal Colors

Cape Arago near Charleston, Oregon

Near Gold Beach, Oregon

The bar at Gold Beach, OR

Coastal Critters

Sea Lion at Charleston, Oregon

Bald Eagle and Seals on the Beach near Charleston, OR

Sea Lion on the dock at Brookings, Oregon

Coastal Chaos

Waves and Storms

Coast Guard surf drills near Charleston, Oregon

Exceptionally high waves at Shore Acres State Park - November, 2009
The cliff on the right with the trees on it rises 70-80 ft. above the water, depending on the tide stage

Our most recent storm 1-18-12
Storm Warning Flag--indicating winds of 55-73mph (the highest local gust in this storm reached 113)

Waves from that storm
Photo's a little fuzzy--taken from the inside our vehicle through heavy rain and car-rattling wind gusts!

Birds

2012-01-17T17:32:00.000-08:00

It's A-Z 2! This week: B. To read more--or join in--visit Ordinary Lives.

As most of you know, in addition to writing, another creative outlet I love is photography.

In fact, recently I have been doing more photography than writing. It seems to cycle that way--no doubt writing will take top spot again before long, but for a while I may post more photos than writing-related material.

Birds are great subjects. I can almost always find a bird of some kind to shoot (with my camera, that is! :-) ) I spent a LONG time going through the photos I've taken since I got my Canon camera, almost three years ago. It was tough to narrow them down to a reasonable number, but here are some of my favorite bird photos. I hope you enjoy them!

Swan (just getting adult feathering)

Red-Tailed Hawk

Grebe

Mallard Duck (Drake)

Canada Goose

Juvenile Bald Eagle

Bald Eagle

Great Blue Heron

Seagull

Egret

Pelican

Pelicans

Juvenile Pelican

Bald Eagle

Crow

Egret and babies

Quail

A New Year--A New Word

2012-01-09T22:23:00.000-08:00

It’s A-Z Take 2 -- Letter: A. For more posts visit Ordinary Lives.

The past couple of years I have read quite a bit about people choosing a word for the year.

As 2011 waited on the horizon, I gave it a little thought, but nothing in particular came to me, so I didn’t do anything about it.

Then again, as 2011 was winding down I began to read on Facebook and blogs as different people shared their word for 2012.

Again I thought (and prayed) about it. Jan. 1 rolled around, then the second…and the third. I was about to give up when, on the 4th a word finally “clicked”.

I wasn’t sure I liked it.

It seemed, at first to be, well . . . kind of boring.

I had hoped for something with a bit more excitement. Not too much, mind you. I mean, I don’t wish to be thrust into the middle of a murder scene or be forced to flee for my life. I may enjoy writing about that sort of thing, but have no desire to live it!

No, I was thinking more along the line of a word for the year that would signify a mild, fun sort of adventure. Or a word denoting success . . . or triumph!

I didn’t get any of those.My word?

Steadfast.

Steadfast? Hmmm. Okay. Well, like I said, not quite what I had hoped for.

To be honest, it conjured up images of trudging along in a rut. Just getting through the day. Keeping on, but not really going anywhere.

Not at all adventuresome or victorious.

But the word has grown on me. Especially after I looked up scriptures that go along with it. Here is my favorite (and my theme for the year):

Therefore, my dear brothers, be steadfast, unmovable, always excelling in the work of the Lord, because you know that the work that you do for the Lord isn't wasted.

I Cor. 15:58 Int. Standard Version

Unmovable sounds…strong! Excelling? That’s a great word! Work of the Lord? Always good (and also requires being sure I know what the Lord’s work for me really is at any particular time.) Isn’t wasted? I like that, too! (Who likes to waste time and effort?)

So even though, on first thought, steadfast didn’t sound too exciting, I like my word now, and I look forward to seeing where it will take me through the year!

Zzzzzzz...

2011-11-14T21:57:00.000-08:00

This week's A-Z meme letter is: Z! For more posts visit Ordinary Lives.

I can hardly believe we have come to the end of the a2z challenge!

The theme for my last post in this challenge is, Zzzzzzz...

Since both the Y and Z posts fall in November, I wrote them in October and scheduled them to appear on the appropriate dates.

If you are new to this blog, and/or not a writer, you may not know why I chose to do so. It's because of NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). The idea is to write an entire 50,000 word novel in the month of November. And it gets pretty crazy.

It's challenging for anyone. But I find it especially so for a couple of reasons... First, as I have mentioned before, my (wonderful) hubby and son really do try to give me the uninterrupted time I need to write, and do their best to honor my request to be disturbed only in the event of an emergency. However, our definitions of emergencies differ greatly. Mine falls more along the line of "the house is on fire". Theirs includes such catastrophic events as not being able to find the milk. ("It's in the refrigerator, on the forward part of the left hand side of the third shelf. The same spot every container of milk we've had since we got that particular refrigerator has occupied.")

And second...well, I'll let you in on a little secret. I am a very s-l-o-w writer. Writing a short article can (and frequently does) take me hours. I identify with Gene Fowler (1890-1960) who wrote,

“Writing is easy: All you do is sit staring at a blank sheet of paper until drops of blood form on your forehead.”

There are several reasons I'm so slow. Procrastination, getting distracted by "shiny objects", perimenopausal brain fog and having an extremely demanding perfectionist for my ~~infernal~~, er, internal editor all contribute to the problem. So, between all of those "emergency" family interruptions and my own shortcomings, accomplishing the word count required to "win" NaNo is a huge challenge for me.

I anticipate that, by the time this posts, if I have any "free" time left at all, it will be spent sleeping. Or perhaps pretending to, so I can (hopefully) get a bit of that quiet time to think of something to write.

Hence, my Zzzzzzz... post.

Happy sleeping (or pretending), everyone!

Yellowstone (and the Tetons)

2011-11-07T21:14:00.000-08:00

This week's A-Z meme letter is Y. For more posts visit Ordinary Lives.

If you read last week's post, you no doubt guessed the theme for this week's post: Yellowstone National Park (and the nearby Grand Tetons National Park). We visited these splendors on our recent vacation. (And if you missed the main reason for our trip, you can read about it here.)

As many of you know, I love photography. Yellowstone and the Tetons are, of course, a photographer's dream! Here are just a few of my favorites of the hundreds of photos I took:

Xanthic

2011-10-31T21:23:00.000-07:00

This week's A-Z post letter is X. For more posts visit Ordinary Lives.

It's here. The dreaded X week of our A-2-Z challenge.

I could have gone with X-ray or something similar, but I decided to have a little fun, so I looked up some "X" words, and chose xanthic.

If you don't know what xanthic means (which, apparently, Blogger's spell check doesn't, because it highlights the word as incorrect), don't bother to look it up. After you read this post, you'll know!

I could have used another word for xanthic as the post for next week's letter. As a matter of fact, next week's post does use an expanded version of another word for xanthic! (More below.)

A coward could be called xanthic.

Need an address or phone number for a local business? Look it up in the Xanthic Pages.

School buses are xanthic.

If you're old enough, I'm sure you remember the Beatles song about the Xanthic Submarine.

When you're somewhere without transportation of your own, you might call a Xanthic-Cab Taxi.

I'm sure you have it by now, but for a little more fun, how about a few pictures?

Here is a Xanthic-Bellied Sapsucker:

And some lovely xanthic roses:

If you have a lot of money, you might buy a xanthic Lamborghini

and drive it along a xanthic-brick road.

And finally, here is s shot of a lovely xanthic tree. I took this photo near Xanthicstone National Park. (A bit of a teaser for next week's post!)

What's your favorite xanthic item?

Visit...and Whew!

2011-10-27T16:50:00.000-07:00

(A-Z meme letters V-W. For more posts, visit Ordinary Lives.)

VISIT

Since I am in "catch up" mode, I have included both my V and W posts here.

Both posts relate to the reason I'm behind: our recent trip. V is for Visit. A surprise visit, at that! (We weren't sure if we could pull it off as a surprise or not, but we did!)

We did some sight-seeing along the way (which I'll tell more about later), but the primary reason for our trip is shown below. And since, as they say, a picture is worth a thousand words, here's a several thousand word essay! :-)

John and Cristil with Ada (2), John, Jr. and Sophia

Our turn! :-)

Ada with the twins

Sophia (closest) and John - one month old

Synchronized leg stretches :-)

Being a big sister is hard work!

WHEW!

And W is for Whew! For several reasons.

Whew--all of the pets and plants are still alive, and the house is even in reasonably good shape! (18 year old son in charge while we were gone.)

Whew--our whirlwind trip (5,000 miles in 10 days) was wonderful, but it's good to be back home!

And Whew--I'm finally starting to catch up on everything here. Just in time for the big, annual "Triple N" (November Nano Neglect)!

Umbrellas

2011-10-12T05:16:00.000-07:00

This week's A-Z meme letter is U. For more posts, visit Ordinary Lives.

I'll let you in on a little secret...

Even though we get large amounts of rainfall every year where I live along the Oregon coast, if you see someone using an umbrella, they are almost certainly NOT from around here.

The "natives" (or those who have lived here for very long) don't use them. Or--if they do, it's very rare.

Why?

Well, probably a major reason is that we also get high winds along with our rain a lot of the time so this:

will end up looking like this:

or this:

or even this:

So if you are around here during the rainy season (roughly mid September through the end of July) and want to stand out as a tourist, go ahead an use an umbrella. We'll enjoy laughing at you. (It can get dreary during the rainy season...laughing at tourists makes a fun diversion.)

But if, instead, you want to blend in, a better choice would be to look like this:

What's it like where you live? How about you, personally? Umbrellas or no umbrellas?

Tagline

2011-10-03T19:17:00.000-07:00

This week's A-Z meme letter is T. For more posts, visit Ordinary Lives.

This is a busy week, so for my T post, I’m going to “recycle”a post I wrote about choosing my writing tagline.

A few months ago, I was asked to do a guest post on Kindred Heart Writers about how I came to choose Soul Searching Suspense as my taglineand the name of this blog.

My first thought was that the post would go something likethis:

The Lord gave it to me.

The end.

Ahem... Brevity is one thing, but a two line post?

Then I thought more about it. And, while I certainly believewhat I noted above about the source of my inspiration, there was a processinvolved, which I agreed to share.

How to Develop aTagline in Five Easy Steps

Actually, they may not necessarily be easy. But since itseems everything from bike-riding to neurosurgery is purported as doable in somany “easy” steps, I felt a moral obligation to label the process this way.

1. Start spying.

Okay, it’s not really spying. Taglines are meant to be read,after all. But take a look at those other authors have chosen. It’s easy tofind them. Forums, blogs, email lists, social networking sites…pretty muchanywhere you find writers online, you’ll find their taglines.

It’s probably good to spend a little extra time looking at thetaglines of authors in your genre, but don’t limit yourself to only those. Makenote of the taglines that appeal to you, that just seem to “work”. Don’t worry,initially, about why one appeals to you over another, just list those you like.

2. Do a littlethinking.

What is your genre? Does your writing focus on a nichewithin that genre? Is there a common thread or theme that crops up in your work?What is unique about your writing? What is unique about you? Who is your targetaudience?

You probably won’t find a tagline that will answer all of these questions, but it shouldanswer at least a couple of them.

3. Do a little morethinking.

Go back to that list of the taglines you like. Take a goodlook at them and do some analysis. What makes a tagline appeal to you? If youdidn’t know the author and his/her work, could you get a good sense of it fromthe tagline? Is it memorable? How short or long is the tagline? Does thisaffect its appeal or how memorable it is? Does it use any devices that make itstand out (play on words, alliteration, irony, humor, assonance, imagery,etc.)?

4. Brainstorm.

Now, using the answers to the questions above, it’s time forsome brainstorming.

Here’s how the process went for me.

Genre was easy. I’m pre-published (at novel length) but myprojects fit nicely under the umbrella of suspense. Beyond that generaldesignation, each has some level of supernatural or spiritual influence. Theydon’t tend to be overtly “preachy” but are designed to encourage the reader tothink beyond the corporeal.

So, in thinking about the first set of questions, I knew Iwanted my tagline to have something to do with suspense and also to give hintto a supernatural / spiritual component.

Next I considered what in particular appealed to me about myfavorite taglines. Those I personally like best are:

Short
To the point
Memorable
Clearly indicate the genre
Present something unique about the author and/or the writing
Use a device or technique that makes it stand out

(The technique should work with the genre, though. Humor wouldprobably not be a good match for horror.)

Even after I’d brainstormed what I wanted my tagline to sayabout my writing and some ideas as to how it might do that, it still took along time before “Soul Searching Suspense” came to me. I tried (and rejected) alot of different wording combinations and techniques before mine “clicked”.

I believe the length of time involved has to do with theultra short version of choosing my tagline. The Lord gave it to me. And He didso (as He is wont to do) in Histiming…not mine!

5. Get googly-eyed.

Or, just Google it.

Once I decided I’d like to use Soul Searching Suspense, Idid one final step: a search to be sure it didn’t come up as another author’stagline. I was surprised (and thrilled!) that it did not. I found it used descriptively(a book reviewer described a suspense as “soul searching”), but not as atagline.

So I claimed it!

One final note I would add, is to not be afraid to modify orchange your tagline if isn’t working. I’m pleased with my tagline and believe Iwill use it long-term, but if, at some point, it doesn’t work as I’d like, Iwould not hesitate to change it.

I hope this proves helpful to those who are working on theirtagline. And whether you’re still searching or have chosen one, I’d love toread your comments about the process!

Sweetie...and Surprising!

2011-10-01T17:14:00.000-07:00

This week's A-Z letter is S. For more posts, visit Ordinary Lives.

Well, better late than never, I guess. I have been working on some other things this week, so got behind on my a-z blog entry.This S post is for my sweetie, John. It’s also for something related to him / us which I find surprising!

I met my hubby when his son, Carl, was in the first grade class I taught at the local Christian school.Here is a not so good photo of a photo (I don’t have a working scanner) of us with Carl and Cristil at our wedding. The sun was in our eyes so everyone looks a little squinty!

And here are a few random photos through the years. (We’ll celebrate our 25th anniversary in March!)

One of John's dog show wins

Christmas- John, me, Jesse and puppies

My brother, Dave; John; my brother-in-law, Ken (at my nephew's wedding)

John with my dad and our Goffin's Cockatoo, Gracie

Me, Jesse and John (in the Redwoods)

And now for the surprising part…

You know how people talk about building or remodeling and how it really tests the strength of a marriage? Well, we are in the midst of the l-o-n-g (and often interrupted) process of a whole house remodel / update. AND we actually enjoy it! Well, most of the time. Of course there are stressful / tired moments which result in a snap or two, but for the most part we work really well together!

We have only finished three rooms so far: the kitchen, dining room and entry area. We hired contractors for the major items, but have also done a lot ourselves, including the design of the whole project, all of the painting, and all of the floor and wall tiling.

I can’t show a photo of how the whole area used to look, because it was so chopped up into tiny rooms and partial rooms, you couldn’t even see the whole thing at once. But here is a little bit of the former kitchen. To the right of this picture was a minuscule dining room (barely big enough for a narrow table), then another wall and then a tiny, tiled entry by the front door.

And here is how it looks now. The kitchen window and sink are in close to the same locations as before. (The window--toward the left in the new photo--now has an arched frame. The dark object on the right of the first picture is a TV.)

We only added a width of 4 feet to the dining area (took in a former covered porch), and also relocated the former entry, so used that space, too. The small addition, along with removing the two walls made such a huge difference!

And here is the new entry (which also used to be part of the porch). The mission-style cherry door is just behind where you see the TV in the first picture. The window, below, is the one into the kitchen (and was the former front of the house before the addition.)

I am so blessed by my sweetie! And I'm especially blessed that we have such similar tastes that we find it easy to agree when selecting materials, etc. A very pleasant surprise!

Now, only 7 more rooms to go…

Blog Tour Winner...

2011-09-21T11:00:00.000-07:00

The blog tour for Lisa Mikitarian 's new book, Her Safari, offers the chance to win some great prizes! Names are drawn from the list of those who leave comments on the blog tour posts.

The lucky winner of a five dollar Starbucks gift card is...

Laury Holman Hubrich

Congratulations, Laury! I know you'll enjoy your prize!

For the list of additional blog tour stops, please visit Reflections with Dr. Rita.

Reality

2011-09-19T21:45:00.000-07:00

This week's A-Z meme letter is R. For more posts visit Ordinary Lives.

How about some fiction this week?

Here is a selection from my eBook, A Different Perspective--God-Honoring Short Stories with a Twist. The stories encompass a variety of genres and range from lighthearted to poignant, but share the unexpected--an uncommon way of looking at life. Also included is the first chapter of my novel, Bree's Secret, which is a finalist in the suspense category of this year's ACFW Genesis contest. --The winner will be announced soon...on the 24th! (Breathe, Shelley)

This story falls at the speculative end of the spectrum. I hope you enjoy it.

Reality

Satan studied the board from every angle to determine the ideal location—the perfect timing—for the placement of the game piece. Satisfied at last, his concentration on one small area was the only impetus needed. The boulder—firm in its placement for centuries—shook off its tether of soil and tumbled down the slope in obedience to his wordless command.

He searched the road and nodded his approval. They were right on time—at least by his standards. Their car sped around the curve just moments after he’d placed the piece. He watched his carefully calibrated move unfold before him, reveling in the delightful assault to his senses. The screams…the squeal of brakes…the scent of over-heated tires… the impact.

Satan could not have been more pleased.

He drew closer—nearly within the scene—to peer through the windshield. The man and woman, both in the fog of calm between their worlds of awareness, moaned, but without serious injury. But the occupant in the back…

The driver’s pathetic attempt at avoidance had caused a skid, so that the door behind him bore the brunt of the impact. Satan looked closer and laughed. The so-called child safety seat was hardly a match for a well-placed boulder. The boy slumped over the padding, eyes half-open, unseeing. Rasping gurgles and scarlet bubbles punctuated each shallow breath.

“Now!”

At the master’s command, a half-dozen creatures descended. “Rouse them! Their child’s injuries will bring a far greater torment than their own.”

As he had predicted, the moment consciousness returned, the parents scrambled to join the boy in what remained of the back seat, all sensation of their own physical pain deferred on his behalf. Satan closed his eyes for the briefest instant to revel in the waves of pleasure that coursed through his being at the sight of such delicious anguish.

“No…!”

Protests rang out from both sides of the veil. From his all-too-aware minions on one side—to the perception-impaired parents on the other, human and demon voices mingled in disbelief as the Master himself reached into the scene. He lifted the boy—oh so gently—out from the crumpled, marionette-like figure to which his parents clung, out of the tangle of broken plastic and twisted metal, and carried him straight to the throne.

Satan watched the scoreboard tick another soul for the opposing side.

“Quickly!” he roared. ”You know what to say!”

“How could a loving God let this happen?”

“This is your husband’s fault…driving too fast…”

“This is your wife’s fault…late as usual…”

“You must never forgive God…”

“…him…”

“…her…”

The tortured couple, bowed by pain and grief, listened to every whispered word and took each to heart. In their despair, they had no strength to fight the onslaught.

Satan’s gaze pierced the distance to where the Master sat with the child at his knee.

“Enjoy your little pawn. Thanks to your taking him, I’m well on my way to claiming the king and queen.”

He raised his eyebrows and smirked. “Your move.”

~*~

God chuckled as his enemy retreated. You’d think he’d never read the rule book.

The little one looked up. “What are you going to do?”

The question was asked not in sadness, nor worry, nor fear—for these cannot exist in the presence of the Most High. It was asked in complete trust, with simple curiosity as to the details of the plan.

God smiled, took the boy by the hand and led him to heaven’s representation of the game. They could see the entire view—earth, the heavens, and beyond—yet at the same time could focus on every detail, right down to the number of hairs on someone’s head.

Amazed, the boy asked, “Can your enemy see all this?”

“This much, yes. I’ve allowed him that. But there’s much he’ll never see. Not because it’s withheld from him. It’s right there in his representation, too. But it’s impossible for him to find. Evil always hides truth. Watch!”

The view unfolded as a bloom and God showed the boy Reality. Not the pale imitation humans thought of as “real life” from their vantage among the shadows and behind the veil. Not even Satan’s impressive, yet flawed view. But true Reality. They saw the host of heaven surround the ravaged car. They laughed as the enemy’s troops slashed at the few heavenly warriors they could see.

They moved beyond the scene. Way beyond. Together they transcended time and passed the reaches of space. Here, they embraced the true game of life—the eternal circle where the end is written before the beginning.

(A Different Perspective is available on Amazon, Barnes and Noble and Smashwords.)

Blog Tour: Her Safari

2011-09-17T00:02:00.000-07:00

Blog tour for Her Safari--by Lisa Mikitarian

I am pleased to participate in my first "Blog Tour" for a terrific book by a very talented writer, Lisa Mikitarian. I will be posting a review soon on Indi-e Quality, but for now I'll just say that I highly recommend this book!

Her Safari - Snapshots along the way

Life is a mix of love, humor, faith, ingenuity, and tragedy—sometimes all in the same day! No matter how different we are as individuals, our lives are made up of seasons, circumstances, and turning points. In Her Safari, you'll find women of varying ages and backgrounds—each at a life juncture—some more critical than others.

Among them is a single woman who distrusts men, yet flirts with her doctor while under the influence of Percocet; a wife who considers divorcing her husband over Christmas décor; and a widow who's ready for bridge but not community living.

Despite their differences, whatever leg of the safari these women are on, and however successful they are in navigating the conflict in their lives, one thing becomes clear—most are genuinely doing the best they can.

This captivating collection makes a wonderful gift for women of all ages.

A little more about, Lisa Mikitarian, the author of Her Safari:
Lisa writes contemporary fiction that concentrates on relationships above all else. She's fascinated by how people interact, and what motivates them to action. She and her oldest daughter, Madeline, are currently writing a novel together (that centers on relationships), in addition to running an offbeat advice blog. If you have a strange problem, chances are they'll have a strange answer. To bring balance to her life, Lisa also writes devotions for Heartlight, Women in Journey, and Jewels of Encouragement.

The Shenandoah Valley of Virginia is where she calls home. Home includes her crazy husband, Sam (Lisa’s words, not mine) and the occasional itinerant child (of three) who wanders home. Her dog, Dorian Gray is also nuts but keeps her company while she writes—so she overlooks the condition of his mental health.

Lisa has a BA in Organizational Management and enough unorganized credits for something in English—she's pretty sure. She's had many jobs: US Army on the enlisted side, Virginia National Guard on the officer side, aerobics instructor, painter, ESL teacher among others—but has yet to operate a cash register. She wonders about that deficit from time to time.

Lisa, In Trieste, Italy (furthest city north--next to Slovenia)—and one of the oldest theaters in the Hapsburg Monarchy.

When she's not writing, you can find Lisa involved in some kind of sport or dancing. She and Sam have taken enough ballroom dance lessons to resurrect the economy—though she insists no one can tell—mainly because Sam refuses to let her lead. They also enjoy traveling, which is good, as Lisa's family all live in Germany. Sam says being a continent away is almost enough—they're crazier than he is.

To Purchase Her Safari: Click here.
The Signature HER SAFARI Gift Set!

Lisa has partnered with Heart of God International Ministries, so that they’ll receive the proceeds from books bought on their behalf. There’s a special button on the publishers site at check out (HGIM).

To be entered into a drawing to win a five-dollar Starbuck’s gift card, please leave a comment. The drawing will be held September 21st. The winner will be announced here so please remember to check back!

Quiet, Please--My Tomato is Ticking

2011-09-12T21:45:00.000-07:00

This week's A-Z letter is Q. For links to more posts visit Ordinary Lives.

I love programs, apps and gadgets.

I’m especially fond of those designed for productivity, organization and time-management. I can spend hours browsing what’s available and comparing the plusses and minuses of each. (Hmmm. I wonder if that could have anything to do with that perfectionism I posted about last week. Nah…probably not.)

It’s a good thing most software distributors offer either a watered-down free version or a trial period, though, because most of the time the programs I try just don’t work for me. One problem is I’m attracted to programs with lots of lovely detail. …And then I get so bogged down by said detail the only thing I accomplish is fiddling with the program. (Sigh. Here we go again. I know the meme letter is Q this week, but that darned P word keeps cropping up.)

I have found one program, though, that does work for me--especially for my writing. My productivity increases tremendously when I use it. Yet the program is so simple it seems almost silly. Not only is this simple program effective, it's also free! It’s called the Pomodoro Technique. Here is a link to a one-page summary: http://www.pomodorotechnique.com/resources/pomodoro_cheat_sheet.pdf

Basically, you set a timer and work on one project (and that alone) for a specified period of time, followed by a set break. The default time frame for one “pomodoro” is 25 minutes of work followed by a 5 minute break. But if an altered schedule works better for you, it can be adapted (I have modified mine a little.) After four pomodoros, you get a longer break.

The idea behind this deceptively simple system is that—for most people—productivity is highest when alternating single task, concentrated effort with short breaks. NOT by attempting to multi-task (or, as I’ve been known to do—get distracted by (online) shiny objects), nor by working for hours on end without taking breaks. Productivity suffers with either of these approaches. And I should know. My usual method is to alternate between the two, depending on the project and whether—or when—there’s a deadline.

Now I’ve tried using timers before--with little success (it’s a pain resetting the silly things all the time.) But there are several cool little timers which are designed specifically for use with the Pomodoro Technique (just google "pomodoro timer" -some are free, others low cost). The one I chose automatically resets itself for the times I specified. A little alarm rings when the work—or break—period is over, and then the next cycle begins.

As I mentioned, I modified the usual schedule slightly. I work 30 minutes and take a 10 minute break. By the way, a break doesn’t have to be spent relaxing, or doing something “fun” (although it can be.) The main idea is to switch to something different. Since I mostly use pomodoros for writing, I’m on the computer during work times. Occasionally I’ll use a break for email or Facebook, but most of the time I try to do something away from the computer. I have used those 10 minute periods for folding a load of laundry, loading the dishwasher or even using the elliptical. My back, neck, and eyes have expressed their gratitude!

Among all of its many benefits, though, the thing that amazes me the most with the Pomodoro Technique (and my timer program) is that the family respects it! This is nothing short of miraculous. I have tried for years to train hubby and son that when I’m writing, I only wish to be interrupted in the event of a major catastrophe. But either I am woefully deficient in my communication skills, or else my definition of a catastrophe needs to be expanded to include, “Hey, look at this funny YouTube video!”

UNTIL the pomodoro timer. Part of it is probably because they know that, when the alarm goes off, I’ll be on break and will actually listen to them (imagine that!) But whatever the reason, I’ll take it.

http://www.pomodorotechnique.com

By the way, in case you’re wondering how all of this ties in with my post title, pomodoro is Italian for tomato. The originator of the Pomodoro Technique used a little tomato-shaped kitchen timer and named the program in its honor.

So…if hubby or son momentarily forget and start to say something to me during a work session, I can now say, “Quiet, please. My tomato is ticking.”

Imperfect Perfectionist

2011-09-05T21:05:00.000-07:00

(This week's A-Z letter is P. For more posts, visit Ordinary Lives.)

Hello.

My name is Shelley and I am a perfectionist.

Well, no. I can’t really say I’m a perfectionist. At least I’m not a very good one. I guess you could call me an imperfect perfectionist.

(Commons.wikimedia.com's free photos)

You see, I tend to spend so long trying to perfect every task, I run out of time. Something is always left undone. In fact, if you were to look at the state of my desk, or laundry room, or garden, it’s almost certain at least one of those would prompt you to think I’m the opposite of a perfectionist. (Hmmm. . .just what is the opposite of a perfectionist, anyway, a slacktivist?) But that’s because, as a perfectionist of the imperfect variety, I tend to get overwhelmed or even paralyzed by the vast chasm between where I am and that elusive state of “perfect”.

You see, if I was a good perfectionist (one who routinely meets her lofty goals), I would seldom become paralyzed. And if was a confirmed slacktivist (I like my new word!), I just wouldn’t care. But since I’m an imperfect perfectionist I care—a lot—but if I know I won’t have time to do something perfectly, I may not do it at all. This is seldom due to a conscious decision to not write that chapter or clean the garage or whatever needs to be done, it’s just that I tend to wait until the...well, the perfect time to do it.

(Dreamstime.com's free photos)

It’s not all bad, though. While I’m waiting I can often be found productively filling my hours on email, Facebook, and reading interesting books, blogs or articles!

Okay, maybe that’s not so productive. At least not for long periods of time. Alas, imperfect perfectionism is often tied not only to paralysis but also to procrastination.

Since it’s unlikely I’ll ever completely eliminate my perfectionist tendencies, I have a new goal: to become a part-time perfectionist.

(Dreamstime.com's free photos)

There are certain tasks which do call for me to put forth my very best. When I got my "A Different Perspective" manuscript ready for eBook publication, for example, not only did I perfect it to the best of my ability, I also paid an editor and an eBook formatter to help me bring the book as close to perfect as I could. (If you take the eBook link before Sept. 7, be sure to enter the code GJ43R at checkout and your copy is free.)

But many (probably most) tasks do not require anywhere near that level of care. Do I really need to spend twenty minutes perfecting a Facebook post? I think not. Nor is it necessary to spend an hour vacuuming into corners no one will ever see. And when I’m willing to give up the pursuit of perfection on those marginal tasks, I can both accomplish more, and also have additional time to spend on those few tasks which do benefit from perfectionism.

(Dreamstime.com's free photos)

I don’t need to pursue perfection in every little thing. (What a revelation!) Nor do I need to travel to the other end of the pendulum swing and get so relaxed as to become a slactivist.

With the Lord’s help in the never-ending process of aligning priorities, I am seeking a middle ground. And you know what I’ve found? Sometimes good enough is just perfect!

Orcas and Others

2011-08-29T21:00:00.000-07:00

This week's A-Z letter is O. For more posts, visit Ordinary Lives.

I love being on or near the ocean. I especially enjoy those occasions when we have been lucky enough to encounter marine wildlife.

Smile for the camera! (One of our local dock residents)

Throughout the years, in various locations, I have seen many marine mammals. Seal and sea lion encounters—thrilling to infrequent visitors to the coast—are so common as to be almost boredom-inducing to those of us who live in coastal regions.

Other sightings are less frequent, so especially treasured. I have seen sea otters (so cute!) float on their backs and use rocks they’d placed on their bellies to smash open their shellfish snacks. I've been on boats when porpoises came alongside to play in the bow wake. They had such fun (so did we!)

A few years ago on Mother’s Day, John and I drove out to a favorite nearby ocean overlook. A gray whale mother and her calf came quite close to the shore. The baby played in the cove just below us, leaping over the waves and having a grand time, for about half an hour before he and his mother moved on.

I especially like Orcas (Killer Whales). My first several encounters with Orcas were in aquarium settings. I got to “pet” (pat) one when I was only ten or so, and have seen others in “shows” at various aquariums since then. We visited Keiko, of “Free Willy” fame, a few times while he was in Newport, OR, for rehab, before he was transported back to his home waters in Iceland. And I’ve seen wild Orcas in the distance while sailing with my brother.

But my favorite Orca encounter happened when some friends came to visit, and John and I took them out fishing on our boat. We had a good time, caught some fish and were about to head back in, when someone noticed spouting in the distance. A pod of Orcas! They passed by fairly close to us, and we could see a couple of mothers with babies and three or four others. We decided to follow them, and got closer—not enough to be in danger, but definitely enough to be exciting. Then we noticed that the pod had split up. The mothers with babies and a couple of others went one way, while two of the Orcas stayed close to us. One of them, in particular, put on quite the show. He did a full breach—rising up so most of his body was out of the water before splashing down on his side. We watched him, entranced, and then noticed most of the rest of the pod had surfaced some distance away. The showman had been a decoy—capturing out attention while the others continued on their journey. He then left to join them.

Unfortunately, none of us had a camera with us that day, but, had anyone taken a photo, it would have showed the decoy Orca much like this.

Orca, breaching (public domain photo)

I have been much closer to Orcas in aquarium settings, but that encounter with them in their natural habitat is by far my favorite.

You Don't Say

2011-08-24T18:03:00.000-07:00

(This week's A-Z letter is N. For links to other posts, visit Ordinary Lives.)

A couple of years ago, I bought some writing study/lecture packets, by Margie Lawson. They are excellent and I refer to them often.

One of them is titled Empowering Characters' Emotions.

In the packet, the author addresses (among other things) non-verbal communication.

When you think about it, our non-verbal cues far outweigh what we say.

For a funny way to illustrate this point, if you have a dog, try this:

Tell your dog he/she is a very, very bad dog. The most worthless cur ever to roam the face of the earth. Good for nothing and ugly to boot. But, say it in a bright, happy voice, smile, and ruffle the dog's fur, rub his/her belly, or give your pet a favorite toy or treat as you talk.

Is the dog bothered by the the opinion you expressed? Not one little bit. If your words and actions don't match up, the dog will believe how you sound, look, and what you do: not what you say.

Of course, people have higher-level vocabularies than dogs (at least some do…), but the same idea applies in human communication. Which is why it’s so easy to get into trouble when communicating via email, texts, etc. What is easily understood in person (or even over the phone) as, say, sarcasm, is much more difficult to express clearly in a medium where facial expressions, tone of voice and other such cues are absent.

For writers, our writing is far more powerful when we convey not only our characters' broader actions and words, but also the subtleties of their facial expressions, body language and other non-verbal cues. An even greater challenge (but one which adds tremendous depth) is to strive to work beyond a few frequently-relied-on phrases (crossed arms, arched eyebrows, etc.), and stretch to describe more subtle non-verbal behaviors or to express common cues in a fresh way.

For a little fun (and great practice), choose a photo below and describe the emotion shown, using the person's expression, body language or other non-verbal cues. Obviously, since there is no context or back story included, the emotion conveyed can be open to interpretation. Feel free to add in information not included in the picture.

I'll start in the comments, below. I'd love to read your contributions, if you'd like to give it a try!

#1 (Woman)

#2 (Couple)

#3 (Businessman)

#4 (Woman on phone)

#5 (Woman)

#6 (Man)

#7 (Girl)

#8 (Woman)

My First FaithWriters Conference AND...

2011-08-18T15:35:00.000-07:00

(This week’s A 2 Z 4 U & Me meme letter is: M. For more, see Ordinary Lives.)

My long-anticipated first FaithWriters conference is over.

It was wonderful—everything I hoped it would be, and more!

Each of the sessions—general and the smaller ones we each had chosen ahead of time—was great. I picked up good information and inspiration from each one, which I will no doubt write about at a later date. For now, though, I’d like to note something I think some of you may be able to relate to.

Going at all was a major stretch for me.

I’m a natural introvert, to begin with (as many writers are). Add to that the forced isolation and stress of long-term care giving duties for my mother-in-law and my parents, and those natural tendencies became magnified to the point where, a couple of years ago, I was fat, depressed and rarely ventured beyond my small town. Especially not on my own, without hubby and/or son.

Somewhere along the line, when I realized what had happened, I decided I didn’t want to live like that any more. I was “comfortable” in that I seldom did anything to push beyond my self-imposed limits, but I wasn’t happy.

Far more importantly, due to those same self-imposed limits, I accomplished little which could be of benefit to the Lord. So I made the choice to change. And you know what? The Lord was right there to help, once I made that choice. No doubt He had been there, ready to assist me for a long time, but would not violate my free will to force me to change until I was ready to do my part and make that choice.

It wasn’t (still isn’t) easy—it took over two years and a lot of help from the Lord to (s-l-o-w-l-y) lose around 43 lbs. (which may not seem like much for taller folk, but was a lot of extra weight for someone as “vertically challenged” as I am, to carry!) I still have to be careful in order to not regain weight. I also have to make a regular, conscious effort to stretch myself beyond my comfy little cocoon.

Easy it is not. But worth it? You bet!

I see the conference as both an incredible blessing from the Lord (and perhaps a bit of a reward for progress thus far) and also a gentle, convicting reminder that I still have a lot more work to do to become the effective tool for Him that I wish to be.

I am very thankful for both!

Now, for the other My…

I’d like to introduce: my first eBook!

A Different Perspective—God-Honoring Short Stories with a Twist, is a collection of my short stories along with a bonus of the first chapter of Bree’s Secret which is a 2011 finalist in the suspense category of the ACFW Genesis contest (winners will be announced Sept. 24).

And I want to give it to all of my family and friends who download it by Sept. 6!

It is available on Amazon, Barnes and Noble and Smashwords.

But if you download it from Smashwords, here ,
AND enter this code at checkout: GJ43R , your copy is free!

I’d love to get some feedback, links, reviews, etc., but most of all I hope people will read and enjoy A Different Perspective!

Leo, Laughter, and Leaving

2011-08-09T17:44:00.000-07:00

(This week’s A 2 Z 4 U & Me letter: L. To read more—or join in—visit Ordinary Lives.)

Since I am trying to get a ton of stuff done before, well before the third part of this post, this will be a quick, eclectic A-Z post.

Leo— The first of my subjects for my L post is my dad, Leo Leetch. I’ve been thinking a lot about him as I begin writing this post (on the 8th), because today marks 3 years since he joined Mom in heaven (on 8-8-08).

I miss Dad a lot. Here is my favorite picture of my parents.

My nephew took this picture when Mom and Dad were at my sister’s house. We used it as the cover of the invitations to my parent’s 50th anniversary celebration.

Laughter— This part of my post is dedicated to laughter. Dad would like that. He was great with plays on words and puns and loved a good laugh. And I do, too. So, I believe, does the Lord.

“A happy heart makes the face cheerful” Prov. 15:13a

So, here are a few (very few), random (another “very”—random, that is) things that tickled my funny bone. I hope you enjoy them!

Past, Present and Future all walked into a bar at the same time. It was tense.
(If you’re offended by the bar reference, just make it a juice bar! ;-))

(From court records)
o Lawyer: "Doctor, before you performed the autopsy, did you check for a pulse?"
o Witness: "No."
o Lawyer: "Did you check for blood pressure?"
o Witness: "No."
o Lawyer: "Did you check for breathing?"
o Witness: "No."
o Lawyer: "So, then it is possible that the patient was alive when you began the autopsy?"
o Witness: "No."
o Lawyer: "How can you be so sure, Doctor?"
o Witness: "Because his brain was sitting on my desk in a jar."
o Lawyer: "But could the patient have still been alive nevertheless?"
o Witness: "Yes, it is possible that he could have been alive and practicing law somewhere."

Leaving-- My final L is my excuse for the short, random, eclectic post: I’m leaving! Tomorrow, actually, but I had a l-o-n-g list of stuff to finish up today. My destination? Detroit (Livonia) and the FaithWriters conference. I’m so excited to finally be able to get to one, and so look forward to meeting many of you in person.

See you soon!

Kooky

2011-08-02T00:02:00.000-07:00

(This week's A 2 Z 4 U & Me letter: K. To read more--or join in--visit Ordinary Lives.)

I like a lot of kooky things. As in a quirky, silly, different-way-of-looking-at-life kind of kooky. Which is probably a very good thing considering the family, friends and pets in my life. --Not to mention my own tendencies in that direction.

Below is a kooky little piece I came across recently on Facebook. I don’t know who the original author was. This was reposted by one of my Bull Terrier friends—one of hundreds of BT folk I’m friends with, there. I can’t even read the posts of many of them because they write in Italian, French, German, Russian, Swedish, Spanish, Japanese or some other language I can’t read, so I just hide those posts. I always accept them as friends, though, (unless their profile is really disgusting or creepy) because Bull Terrier owners stick together. We have to. We, like our dogs, are…well, kooky.

Anyway, this particular bit of kookiness is a fun play on words. I love word play. (I expect most writers do.) I hope this piece is new to most of you, but if you’ve seen it before, I think it’s worth another look. Especially if you use it as a prompt to come up with new lines to add to it, like I did, below.

I’d love to read what you come up with. If you’d like to play along, please post your contributions in the comments.

(As originally posted. Well, pretty much. I couldn’t resist changing the wording and punctuation just a bit. It’s a writer thing, you know):
“I’ve been to a lot of places, but I’ve never been in Cahoots. Apparently you can’t go alone. You have to be in Cahoots with someone.

I’ve never been in Cognito either. But that’s okay; I hear no one recognizes you there anyway.

I have, however, been in Sane. They don’t have an airport. You have to be driven there. I’ve made several trips, thanks to my family and friends!”

And here is my contribution:

I was in Quire, once. I thought I’d get to sing, but all they wanted to do was ask a bunch of questions.

Now it’s your turn, if you’d like to give it a try. I look forward to reading your comments!

Jesse

2011-07-29T11:04:00.000-07:00

Since this "J" post will show up at the top of my blog (until I add a new post), please scroll on down and enjoy a "double feature" of A-Z posts, since I (finally) posted last week's "I" post, as well.

I have a couple of great choices for J. John (hubby) or Jesse (son). I have a different post in mind for John later in the series, so I decided to make this one about Jesse.

Unlike posting about myself, I have NO dislike in talking about Jesse, but the format I used for "I" worked pretty well, so here, again, are some photos and notes:

With the whole house update / remodel going on, Jesse's earliest baby pictures weren't easily accessible, so these start at toddler age.

Here is Jesse at a friend's house. They found the mother of this fawn, dead, with the fawn nearby. So they rescued it and had it at their house, temporarily, until a wildlife rehab organization could get it.

Here he is sharing treats with our first Bull Terrier, Mupper. And, yes, this was his idea. I found them this way! :-)

This is one of my all-time favorite pictures of Jesse with John. Jess looks like he's sharing all of his vast two-year-old knowledge with Daddy.

Here is Jesse riding trikes with Grandpa Leo.

And this is his first "real" bike.

Driving the boat.

Puppy attack!

He got really good at "jam skating" at a local rink. (Jam skating is a kind of cross between skating and break dancing.) I can't remember what this move was called, but this was intentional. :-)

With Mike Massey (Billiards World Champion) when he appeared locally. (Jesse was the first one to volunteer when Mike asked for someone from the audience to come up.)

After Jesse had skated regularly for over a year, the rink closed down. When it did, John got the idea to get Jess a unicycle, since he had such good balance.

Uncle Jesse with Ada (Nov. '09)

All dressed up. 2009

Unicycle "pogo stick", 2009

Karate 2009

I couldn't find the more recent karate pictures. :-(

In 2010, at the age of sixteen, Jesse earned black belts in both karate and jiu jitsu.

The whole family! (Cristil and Carl both here for a visit at the same time, for the first time in years.) July, 2010

Helping on the house remodel, summer 2010.

Graduation gift, 2011.

I home schooled Jesse all the way through.

He got his GED June, 2011.

Jesse's graduation reception at church (youth director announcing). They decided, since he had both one and two wheels covered, he needed a three wheeled option!

For more A-Z posts visit Patty Wysong's blog, Ordinary Lives.

I...

2011-07-28T17:29:00.000-07:00

Well. I’m only a week and a half late, but, finally, here is my “I” post.

Actually, it’s a “double feature”, because I’m also posting this week’s “J” entry today.

So, without further ado, I…

Dislike talking about myself.

So, I’ll just post a few random photos and write about them.

The photos are a great memory jogger when I can’t think of anything to say about myself and, of course, you know what they say about a picture being worth a thousand words!

Okay, okay, I know. This is the easy way out. But since I’ve had a very busy week or so, and am behind on these posts, I’m fine with that. J)

Me (1957)

Okay, to start this off, here is the obligatory picture of baby Shelley in 1957. I was born in Vancouver, WA. This would have been taken at our home in Portland. (We moved from there to the Seattle area when I was about 3, so I don't really remember this house.)

And here I am with Dad after we moved to Edmonds, WA. When I saw this, while looking through old photos my first thought was, "That tractor looks like an antique." Hmmm... I guess that makes me one, too! :-)

Skipping ahead to, I think, my freshman year of high school. I volunteered to hold onto the Van De Graaff generator to demonstrate static electricity. The teacher said he had never had anyone's hair go out as dramatically as mine, so he left the class to run to the store across the street and get film so he could take a picture!

This one is from college (Northwest Nazarene University in Nampa, ID). No, I hadn't been in a fight. Something I don't think I've ever mentioned on my blog is that I enjoy acting. I was in drama in both high school and college. It's one of those things there just hasn't been time for in adult life (other than the occasional short skit.)

This was stage make-up for a part I played.

After college I got a job teaching at Kingsview Christian School. (For a story and photos from a trip I took one summer during my "single teacher" years, visit the Jewels of Encouragement blog on Aug. 5.)

In 1985-86, the cute little boy in this picture was in my first grade class. On March 21, 1987, I married his dad! I was blessed to gain not only a wonderful husband, but two great kids (Cristil and Carl) at the same time!

In 1993, we had Jesse, pictured at around the age of 2 in one of the photos below. Jesse also just happens to be the subject of my "J" post!

One of the things we like to do is fish. The two fish pictured, below are sturgeon. John and I each caught one on that trip. In the other photo is the largest salmon I have caught (so far!)

I have posted before about our Bull Terriers. They have been (and continue to be) a huge part of our life. We bred and showed them for years. We still have six of them, but they no longer do the puppy or showing things. Now they're just spoiled pets. Here is an assortment of photos of puppies, dogs and shows through the years.

And, finally, here is a photo of my sister Alice, me, my parents (Bessie and Leo) and my brothers Dave and Paul at my parent's 50th anniversary celebration in November of 2005.

Mom and Dad blended an instant family of Alice, Paul and Dave when they married. I came along a couple of years later. I am so blessed by my wonderful family. Mom and Dad are both with the Lord now, but I so treasured the time they were here, and am still blessed by my great siblings.

The Heavens Declare

2011-07-12T15:27:00.000-07:00

I had a tough time coming up with an idea I liked for my “H” post. I even resorted to one of those sites for Scrabble or crossword puzzles that list words beginning with H.

Halitosis? Nah.

Hemorrhoids? I think not.

Hominy? …Seriously? Bloated Corn?

Finally I decided on the heavens. Or, H could also be for Hubble.

Yep. The space-traveling telescope.

I love photography (as regular readers here have seen), and the images Hubble has sent back are stunning. And, when I think that what the telescope has accessed is still just a tiny portion of the massive universe our Creator came up with, it’s mind-boggling.

I also like that, since the Hubble images are taken using our good ‘ol tax dollars, they are public domain!

Here are just a few of my favorites:

¹ The heavens declare the glory of God;

the skies proclaim the work of his hands.

-Psalm 19:1 NIV

For more A-Z posts, visit Patty Wysong's blog, Ordinary Lives.

A New Goal

2011-07-05T11:54:00.000-07:00

I have a new goal.

It’s a small goal, but that’s okay. I’ve tried (and failed) at the loftier sort, so small it is. My new goal is to write 500 words a day, 5 days a week, on one of my WIP’s (that “work in progress” for my non-writer readers.)

The plan is to do this, no matter what else is going on. I might be working on my blogs, or reviewing a book, or editing / rewriting, or even working on one of our perpetual home improvement projects around here. The idea is that, whatever else I may be doing, I should still be able to to set aside enough time apart from that, to meet this modest goal.

Do you ever feel like all of the other “stuff” whether writing related or not, seems to crowd in? I sure do. And I find myself getting so wrapped up in those other things, I sometimes go for days or even weeks (okay, I’ll be honest: occasionally months) making little progress on the novel(s).

If I can consistently achieve my goal, that’s 2500 words a week. Around 10k a month. The length of a novel in 8 months or so.

Of course, the goal isn’t a limit. Hopefully, there will be periods of time when I’ll write a lot more than 500 words in a day. On the other side of the coin, though, I am going to try my best to not obsess and feel the need to “make it up” if I should miss a day here and there. I’ve been there too many times on things, too. Then pretty soon I get overwhelmed and abandon the goal / plan. The “be nice to me” non-obsession part of this will likely be the more difficult thing for me to do, perfectionist that I am!

BUT…speaking of perfection, I hate to brag, but so far I have a perfect record!

Okay, it’s only been two days, but still…

Would anyone like to join me? Set your own goal and start in!

I also welcome anyone who would like to help me stay accountable. Feel free to post a comment or send me a message or email every once in a while to ask, “How’s the 500 words a day goal coming?”

To read the "G" posts others have made, or to participate in the A-Z meme, visit Patty Wysong's blog Ordinary Lives.

FaithWriters, FW Conference and...

2011-06-30T14:32:00.000-07:00

I’m a little late with my “F” post for this week. The reason is explained below.

Also, I haven’t yet looked at this week’s posts from others who are participating in the A-Z meme, but I suspect I won’t be the only one to mention FaithWriters in their post, since many of us who are participating in the meme first met one another at FaithWriters!

My connection to FaithWriters began almost 4 years ago. I had a dream--by that I mean a literal dream--which became the basis of the first novel I wrote (which is currently in what seems to be the never-ending revision process). While I worked on the first draft of the novel, I decided I had better do two things: learn how to be a better writer and see whether or not I had any talent or potential to be a good writer.

Since my original book was / is Christian fiction I did a search for a site dedicated to Christian writing and found FaithWriters.

It is such wonderful, nurturing environment. There, I was able to find both the information and the feedback I sought.

And this year, for the first time, I am going to the FaithWriters conference! It is held in Livonia, MI on August 12-13. I am so looking forward to attending and meeting in person some of my great online FaithWriters friends. I am also thrilled by the fabulous line up of seminars. I only wish I could attend them all, but, as with most conferences, more than one seminar is held at the same time, so one must choose which to attend.

It’s not too late to register! Here is the link to the conference information.

Now to the “and” part of this post.

As those of you who are regular readers here are aware, we are expecting twin grandbabies in the fall. A few weeks ago, the ultrasound revealed that one of the babies is a boy, but the other baby wasn't in the right position that day, so the gender could not be determined.

Well, the most recent ultrasound (yesterday) revealed that the second baby is… Female! Quite convenient since the letter for this post is F.

Of course, since the twins are “one of each”, this also confirms another F… they are definitely fraternal.

Such cooperative babies… they work so nicely into my posts.

And something tells me they will continue to do so!

Join the A-Z4U&Me fun at Patty's blog!

Elk

2011-06-21T10:53:00.000-07:00

A couple of weeks ago, when I posted about my camera for my "C" post, I included a few pictures of elk. Well, since we live about 40 minutes from where most of those pictures were taken, I actually have hundreds! So I decided to post some more of my favorites.

As I mentioned before, the elk are wild, however the photos were taken in areas where they are protected. They are not confined to these areas.

I hope you enjoy "my" elk as much as I do!

Cows and Calves:

Bulls-Northern California Herd

(They have the most spectacular antlers I have seen in person in live Roosevelt elk.)

These two stood, without moving, in the water for the half hour we watched. People who were watching with us said they had already been there nearly half an hour before we arrived. Why would they do that?

Because of this guy (the lead bull). He had the cows lined up on the bank and had run the other two out into the deep water and wouldn't let them come near.

A guy who lived in the area where this herd is told us he found the shed antlers of the lead bull the previous year. He said he weighed them at 37 lbs.

Bulls-Local Herd

The rest of the pictures are bulls of various ages, and at different times of the year (and of yearly antler development) in our "local" herd.

New antlers just starting for the year. (Late April / Early May)

A cute little guy. Although I use my zoom lens (at various lengths) on these, this little guy was pretty close. Probably about 40 ft. away. This was with the zoom most of the way in (otherwise I wasn't even getting his whole head in the shot.)

Here are three more from about the same time of year. These are young bulls being silly "kids".

(Lemme just grab your ear and chew on it a bit.)

The next few are a little later--the antlers are more developed but are still in velvet.

Here's a group shot of several of the boys.

In this practice sparring shot, you can see the velvet is peeling off.

The rest are mature bulls, taken in August and September. This first guy was "second in command". We were quite surprised that the lead bull (photos below), let this one hang out with him and the cows he had gathered. As we watched more, though, we saw the big guy had a method to his madness. He let this smaller bull do all of the work of keeping the cows in line, while the big guy took it easy until breeding time. The younger bull never did challenge the older one for dominance that we saw. (He probably knew he'd lose.)

Here's another shot of the smaller bull who was allowed to remain with the lead bull and cows. (The lead bull ran off any other bulls who came near.) I love this one. He looks so silly. He'd just been nosing in the mud and "fighting" the shrubbery.

(I might not be able to beat the big guy but I can sure beat the mud and brush!)

The rest are the lead bull. He was my favorite. The first few, where he is muddy, were taken the day he took over. Some of the younger bulls had gathered cows into a couple of groups, but they kept shifting around. None of the smaller bulls had established dominance. Then the big guy came along. It was amazing to watch. There was no fight. He just sneaked up through the creek bottom (hence the mud), and took over.

Notice the little bird on his back in this next one. They land on the elk all the time. It's funny. The elk don't care. They don't seem to even notice.

This last shot is one of my favorites. Not because it's a great photograph (I forgot to change the settings so it came out pretty bad in that respect. I had to change it to monochrome and do quite a bit of tweaking to it to get it to show up even this well.)

I like it because of the memory attached to it. It was almost dark, but as we drove along to where we would turn around to go home, we saw the herd in a field near the road, heading east. We knew the area and that they would have to go through a narrow spot by a creek fairly close to the road if they kept going that way, so we stopped there and set up. Sure enough, that's the way they came. But instead of going around the back side of the group of trees we were next to, they came around the front, right below us. The lead bull walked up and stopped and gave us the stare I shot below. He stayed there, standing guard, until all of the cows had gone through.

It was the most amazing experience. There seemed to be an understanding in that stare. He wasn't bothered by us. As long as we stayed put. I wouldn't have even thought to try to go any closer, but, at the same time, I wasn't fearful, either. Excited and in awe, but not afraid.

This was another case where I had to zoom my lens clear in to get the shot.

He was about 20 feet away.

Read other posts and join the A-Z meme fun at Patty Wysong's blog.

Different

2011-06-14T20:44:00.000-07:00

Dreamstime.com's free photos section

D is for Different. As is outside the norm. Unusual. Unique.

Yep.

I’m different.

That used to bother me. Especially when I was younger. Now that I’m not (younger that is) I rather enjoy it!

Here are just a few of the ways I’m different:

Different Family- I married later than most, and then waited over six years before our own son came along to join John’s older kids. By that time we were at the age where most of our friends’ “nests” were emptying.

Different Educational Choice- I homeschooled our son from kindergarten all the way through high school (he just graduated). Compared to the number of families who choose traditional schooling for part or all of their children’s education, our choice was different.

Gabby-owned (& dressed) by Tammy

Different Dogs- Our Bull Terriers are definitely different. Some would even say weird. They’re often compared to pigs. Once, when we took Midge (the one with me, on the left) to Home Depot, a little girl told her grandmother she saw a goat riding in a cart.

Different Perspective- But one of the main ways I’m different is my perspective. Actually, once I was finally able to stand up and declare, “My name is Shelley and I’m a writer”, I found there are others who also have a different way of looking at things.

Even among writers, though, we differ from one another. And our own perspective and style can differ depending on the project.

Recently, I went back over each of the short stories I have written. Most of them were FaithWriters Challenge entries. It surprised (and pleased) me to see not only the growth in my writing, but also the variety of genres and styles the challenge encouraged me to try.

When I read through them, even though they ranged from humorous to poignant, from sci-fi to poetry, they had a common theme. Yep. Different. As in a different perspective or a unique twist.

So, I decided to e-publish them. I am working through the process now. No doubt this will inspire future posts!

The stories will be going to an editor soon. And, in my typical, stubborn, “I can do it myself” manner, I’m trying my hand at designing my own cover. Here is the current version:

For today, I like it. Tomorrow? Who knows? Until I get to the point of selecting “publish” on my little e-book, it’s all subject to change.

But it’s a fun process (so far). I’d love to read your comments or suggestions!

Once again, you can find the linky to the others who are participating in the A2Z4U&Me Here.

And, if you’d like to join the fun, the button below links to the post that tells about it!

Camera

2011-06-07T11:07:00.000-07:00

I considered a lot of different topics for my "C" post. It was difficult to choose one. But I decided to dedicate this post to my camera.

In 2009 I decided it was time to finally get a really good digital camera. I had wanted one for years, but it was one of those things I'd just never bought, for one reason or another.

One motivation to getting it was my frustration with the shutter lag on all of the "cheap" digital cameras I'd gone through. You know, like the dog is running around looking especially adorable and you snap a photo which ends up to be a lovely shot of the grass with no dog to be seen? Yeah, that shutter lag.

Anyway, in '09, I finally decided it was time.

My husband (bless him) talked me into a much better camera than the one I originally would have ordered. He also talked me into getting a great zoom lens to go with it, and, later, a high quality tripod to replace the toothpick model we had. And when I say he talked me into those things, I'm serious. It's difficult for me to spend money on something just for me.

But I'm so glad I did. Going on our little photo drives is one of our favorite things to do! And, even though I'm the one who takes the pictures, John enjoys helping me find those great shots. (And he's a great equipment packer and tripod setter-upper!)

We are also blessed to live in an area where there is so much that's interesting to photograph. We have seen some amazing things. My camera is such a blessing and I thank the Lord (and my hubby!) for it.

Anyway, here are a few of my favorites of the photos I've taken. All of the animals in the photos are wild and in their natural habitat. (Some of the elk photos were taken in an area where they are protected from hunting, but they are a wild herd, free to come and go as they wish. They are not confined to the protected area).

A note about the slideshow: I thought it would "loop" but it doesn't. It stops when it gets to the end of the photos. And it starts automatically when the page loads, so, by the time most people get down to it many of the pictures have already played. If you click the arrows that show up if you mouse over the bottom of the slideshow screen you can view them all. Or, you can refresh the page and scroll down quickly to the slideshow.

Visit Patty Wysong's blog, Ordinary Days for the linky to other "C" posts. Or, click on the button below to find out how to join the fun!

Babies!

2011-05-31T13:56:00.000-07:00

What better subject for a “B” post than babies?

Especially grand-babies. And even more than that…twin grand-babies!

Today is the big day (well, the semi-big day…the really big day will be in the fall.) This is the day of the long-awaited ultrasound appointment at which, finally, we’ll find out whether our first grandchild, Ada, will be a big brother or a big sister! Er, wait a minute… Okay, enough silliness. You know what I mean. Today, Cristil and John go in for an appointment at which they (and, as soon as the message is sent, we) find out the gender of the babies!

I’m writing (most of) this post ahead of time so that when we get the message, I can add the announcement and then post this.

Family members all around the country await the news. Why, in grandparents alone there are dozens! Okay, not quite dozens. There is only the appropriate number of grandparents related by blood, of course, but several more by love! And we all eagerly await word.

It’s always exciting to learn the “what’ of expected little ones, whether it is revealed by ultrasound or at birth. But, for some reason, everything is magnified with the twins. I guess it’s (at least) twice as exciting!

So… will the babies wear this? Or this?

Or maybe this?

Ooh! Finally! The “verdict” is in. And the answer is…

One boy for sure. The cord was in the way of what needed to be seen on the other one, so that one is inconclusive until (hopefully) next time. But at least one boy. Yay!

If you'd like to join in on the A2Z meme fun, the linky is at Ordinary Lives. For more information on the meme and how to participate, click the button below.

All New!

2011-05-24T00:02:00.000-07:00

Welcome to my “all new” blog!

Okay, it’s not ALL new. But I had to use an "A" word in the title. Besides, the blog is different in several ways. The name, layout and look are new (or updated). And I’m also starting a new weekly posting meme, along with several friends.

My old posts are still here, but in honor of finally deciding on a “tagline” for my writing, I’ve renamed the blog. The Veil Thins is now Soul Searching Suspense. It can still be accessed from the old Veil Thins address, or through the new domain name, SoulSearchingSuspense.com.

The look of the place has changed a lot. If Marita Thelander (Free2Be Design) hadn’t been in the middle of a move when I decided I “had to” redesign this blog, I would have had her spiff up the place for me. (She did a wonderful job designing my ebook review blog, Indi-eQuality.com!) But since she was otherwise occupied, I thought, “How hard can this be?”

Ahem. I found out. And let’s just say I have a newfound respect for those who go beyond basic “off the shelf” blog templates.

There’s more I plan to add later, but I am pleased with how it looks so far. And the good news is, I still have most of my hair, have only a few bruises left from banging my head on my desk, and my family (bless them!) is actually still speaking to me.

I’d say that qualifies as success!

And now, for the meme. Patty Wysong (Ordinary Lives, Jewels of Encouragement,) suggested an A-Z theme for posting once a week. Since I have not been the most regular of posters, I decided to see how many of these I could get done. If I do them all that’s half a year of regular weekly posts! And even if I don’t make all of them, it will almost certainly be an improvement over my usual “when the spirit moves me” (obviously it doesn’t very often) posting schedule!

You can find the Linky for the meme participants on Patty's blog (Click on the A 2 Z 4 U & Me button below)

See you next week (if not before)…B ready! :-)

Oh. My.

2011-05-13T16:09:00.000-07:00

Wow.

I got a phone call today.

A call I hoped for, but did NOT expect.

I'm a finalist in the ACFW Genesis contest in the Mystery/Suspense/Thriller category!

Being named a finalist has always been a great honor, but with the addition of a semifinal round this year, it's even more so. Previously there were five finalists in each category. This year there are three.

Wow.

I am thrilled, amazed, humbled, and thankful. First of all to the Lord, since it's all from (and for) Him. I'd also like (again) to say a huge thanks to each of the judges as well as to Camy Tang (Genesis coordinator), Ginny Smith (M/S/T category coordinator) and others who have volunteered so much of their time for this great contest.

The full list of finalists can be found on the ACFW site.

Congratulations to all!

Wow. (Did I say that before?)

Indie or Not Indie...

2011-05-02T15:12:00.000-07:00

That is the question.

Well, one of the questions.

There's no denying the ebook market is growing. Fast. The independently published (indie) ebook market, in particular, is growing exponentially.

I have read a lot about the ebook market lately. This is not difficult to do. It seems everyone is addressing the subject. There are so many issues where ebooks are concerned, I plan to address others in future posts. But for now, I decided to combine this discussion with the introduction of my new blog which addresses one issue in particular.

Quality. (I guess I could just as well have titled this post Quality or Not Quality...)

In traditional publishing, agents and editors serve as "gatekeepers". By the time a traditionally published book reaches the market, it has gone through a very long process designed, in part, to ensure it meets certain quality standards.

But quality is only one aspect of the process. Traditional publishers, of necessity, make their decisions based not only on the quality of the material, but also on what they believe will sell well enough to make them a profit.

In indie publishing, there is no gatekeeper. This has both advantages (anyone can publish anything), and disadvantages (uhm, anyone can publish anything.)

So, how does the reader find the top-quality indie ebooks?

How do those who care enough to produce that quality material (skilled authors, independent editors, cover designers, and others) distinguish their carefully crafted work from the "junk"? (And let's face it. Since anyone can independently e-publish, there is a lot of junk out there.)

I think one option that can fill this void (at no cost to either readers or authors) is independent ebook reviewers.

So... I decided to become one!

I launched Indi-e Quality a couple of weeks ago and posted my first review last week.

For my new blog I narrow the focus a bit more and review only independently published clean-fiction ebooks.

My hope is that Indi-e Quality will benefit readers looking to find quality selections amid the huge (and growing) number of choices in indie ebooks.

I also want it to benefit and help promote the authors, independent editors, cover designers and others who contribute to producing those top quality selections.

Stop by and take a look. If you'd like to propose an ebook for review, there's a link to a form for that purpose.

And if any of you have suggestions as to how Indi-e Quality can better serve the needs of those who write, edit, design and/or enjoy reading quality independent clean fiction ebooks, I welcome your ideas!

I also welcome discussion about independent ebooks. Feel free to comment here and/or at Indi-e Quality.

Excitement at the Coffee Shop

2011-04-09T10:34:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was the day the 2011 Genesis contest semi-finalists were notified.

I flitted around the house, mostly within a few feet of the phone and accomplished nothing, so decided to go to my fave coffee shop to write.

While I was there, I got a call on my cell phone, notifying me that I made the semifinals in this year's ACFW Genesis contest in the Mystery/Suspense/Thriller category!

I wanted to dance, but...well, my dancing is pretty ugly so I decided to spare my fellow Kaffe 101 patrons that spectacle.

Whatever happens from this point on, I'm trilled to have made it into the semifinals. A HUGE thanks to Camy Tang, Ginny Smith and each of the first round judges.

And... Congratulations to each of the other semifinalists!

Here is the full list:

Semi-Finalists were the top 20% of the entries in each category, so the number of Semi-Finalists in each category will vary.

CONTEMPORARY FICTION:
(total entries: 48)

Melanie Brasher/ Joy N. Malik (Pen Name)
Candee Fick
Amy Matayo
Christina Suzann Nelson
Robin Patchen
Katy Pistole
Lori Stafford
Elaine Stock
Chris Storm
Delores Topliff

CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE:
(total entries: 82)

Pepper Basham
Kimberly Buckner
Jeannie Campbell
Ashley Clark
Mary Curry
Tanya Eavenson
Dawn Kinzer
Patricia Lee
Becky Lyles
Susan Mason
Stacy Monson
Sherri Murray
Andrea Nell
Jessica Nelson (double-finaled with two entries)
Krista Phillips
Julie Pollitt
Julie Vickery
Jennifer Vihel

HISTORICAL FICTION:
(total entries: 44)

Lori Benton
Heidi Chiavaroli
Linda Davis
Johnnie Alexander Donley
Marcie Gribbin
Rick Gunter
Nancy Herriman
S.C. Iles
Renee Yancy

HISTORICAL ROMANCE:
(total entries: 73)

Sandra Ardoin
Kay Chandler (double-finaled with two entries)
Rebecca DeMarino
Angie Dicken
Anita Mae Draper
Melissa Jagears (double-finaled with two entries)
Sherrinda Ketchersid
Sarah Ladd
Kathleen Maher
Naomi Rawlings
Marilyn Rhoads
Sherri Shakelford
Brandy Vallance

MYSTERY/SUSPENSE/THRILLER:
(total entries: 47)

Emily Ann Benedict
Dianna T. Benson (double-finaled with two entries)
Deanne Durrett
Linda Glaz
Shelley Ledfors
Bob Lyzenga
Bethany Macmanus
Christen Morris
Dave Slade

ROMANTIC SUSPENSE:
(total entries: 52)

Emily Ann Benedict
Loretta Boyett
K. Victoria Chase
Sue Harrison
Michelle Lim
Erynn Newman
Rajdeep Paulus
Renee Ann Smith
Pat Trainum
Katie Vorreiter
Jan Warren

SPECULATIVE FICTION:
(total entries: 54)

Raelene Burke
Patrick Carr
Matt Jones
John Leatherman
Christian Miles
Will Ramirez
Amy Deardon
Dianna Shuford
Holly Smit
Amanda Stevens
T. Neal Tarver

WOMEN'S FICTION:
(total entries: 90)

Sally Bradley
Carole Brown
Camille Eide
Normandie Fischer (double-finaled with two entries)
Julie Garmon
Sara Goff
Marian Green
Cindy Hays
Mary K. Johnson
Katherine Jones
Sarah Layton
Christina Suzann Nelson
Lynda Schab
Karen Schravemade
Patty Slack
Amy K. Sorrells
Michelle Weidenbenner

YOUNG ADULT:
(total entries: 65)

Pepper Basham
Lori Cecil
Becky Dean (double-finaled with two entries)
Diane M. Graham
Cleo Lampos
Stephanie Landsem
Teresa Lockhart
Amy Matayo
Nicole Quigley
Chawna Schroeder
Diana Sharples
Kim Vandel

Are We Going Overboard??

2011-04-04T16:23:00.000-07:00

I’ve read a lot, lately, about the use of clichés in writing. Standard advice usually goes something like this (I may be paraphrasing a bit…)

Eliminate them at all costs!

Avoid them like the plague!

Just say no!

Hmmm…

Might such advice be going a little overboard?

First, let me say I do understand the reasoning behind the oft-given advice to avoid the use of clichés:
---They're weak
---It’s easy to slip into the inadvertent use of clichés
---They can be annoying
---The use of clichés can be a sign of lazy writing
---We should put more effort into our writing and find fresh ways to express ourselves

I get it. Really, I do.

But I think this might be one of those areas where the pendulum has swung too far.

Did you ever stop to think that the reason it is so very easy to slip into the use of clichés in writing is because they’re used so often in everyday life?

The next time you pop into your local Starbucks or stroll around the mall, listen. I’ll be willing to bet you’ll hear one cliché after another in those overheard conversations.

So, why should we avoid them entirely in writing? Especially when writing dialog? Use them judiciously, sure; dole them out in small doses, yes. But avoid them entirely?

Maybe it’s just me, but I don’t get it.

Tune in next time when I’ll happily discuss the use of adverbs.

My Excuse...

2011-03-27T16:02:00.000-07:00

Ahem.

It's been a while since I've posted again.

Months, in fact.

Ugh.

Quite a bit has happened in that time. The first stage of a house remodel. Extensive updates on a rental house we own. Oh, yeah, and hubby's very unexpected open heart (bypass) surgery on 8-9-10. (An easy-to-remember date!)

I don't have photos of the rental updates. Or hubby's surgery, for that matter. :-)

But I do have pictures showing "stage one" of our remodel. For this part we reconfigured the entry to the house and made some significant changes to the kitchen and dining room.

I don't have easily accessible "before" pictures, but, briefly, the front door used to be by where the china cabinets are, now. And there was a partial wall separating it from the dining area and another wall separating that from the kitchen. VERY chopped up / small. We added 4' x 13' to the house, plus an enclosed entry porch.

Then, of course, we redid the entire kitchen.

It looks like a different house! That part of it, anyway. We plan to update / remodel the rest of the house, too.

Looking in from the new front door. (I hand engraved the heron on the black granite. John and I did the design and installation of the granite / quartzite flooring).

Friday Fiction- A Prayer With Every Breath

2010-05-21T11:20:00.001-07:00

Today’s Friday Fiction is hosted by Christina at “With Pen in Hand”.

The idea for my story this week came to me during a specialized biopsy for which I was placed in an awkward, uncomfortable position and required to remain absolutely motionless in that position for over an hour. The result of the biopsy was a good one, thank the Lord. I didn’t write the story right away, but kept it in mind and wrote it a few months later when it was a good fit for a FaithWriters challenge topic. But the idea—and the title—came to me almost in its entirety during the procedure through which I said…

A Prayer With Every Breath

Oh, God, please...make it stop!

It does. After an eternity in moments, it does.

My desktop slants sharply across my throbbing right shoulder; my left side is wedged against the drawer panel. My head, too...tilted at an awkward angle under the slope of the wood above. Something sharp assaults my back. I struggle against the debris, but find I can move almost no part of my body, let alone the materials of my refuge-turned-prison.

“Help! Help me!”

Silence. No, not silence. Car alarms. Tumbling bricks. Ominous creaks. The groans of a broken building. All these and more reach my ears. But no voices. No answers.

My thoughts turn to my business partner.

“Bre...” I try to call to her, but am overcome by a fit of coughing.

“Brenda?”

I pause to listen but there's no reply. Again I struggle; again I call. Over and over...to no avail.

Panic rises like magma. It fills my being. With no means of release, it threatens to explode.

Help me, Jesus, help me!

Fear pauses. It crouches—still there, but no longer on the advance.

I repeat the words. It becomes my prayer without ceasing...a prayer with every breath.

Inhale... Help me, Jesus. Exhale... Help me.

My heartbeat slows from its boxer's speed bag rhythm. My breathing, though dust-choked and peppered with coughs, returns to a more normal rate.

Other thoughts surface...moths flitting around the central flame of my prayer.

Help me, Jesus, help me.

I review the scene from moments before. I had just returned to my desk when the shaking started, so I'd dived under the desktop for protection. But where had I been just before that? The front door! Brenda had just driven off to meet a client. Maybe she's okay. My prayer includes her.

Help me, Jesus, help me.

A jagged slit in what used to be the ceiling offers a glimpse of the sky. It seems oddly out of place that the sliver is bright blue, yet, somehow, it inspires hope.

Seconds later, the first aftershock hits. My body's fight-or-flight reaction returns with a vengeance. This is normal, I know. But it seems pointless since I'm unable to choose either.

Inhale... Help me, Jesus. Exhale... Help me.

Hope remains. Fear submits, once again, but skulks just under the surface, ready to rise at the first opportunity.
I sleep—or lose consciousness—because the next time I'm aware, it's noticeably quieter. The alarms have stilled. I wonder...how long does it take a car battery to run down?

An hour? A day?

My body screams. Every surface it touches, everything that confines me is hard or sharp or rough. Another sensation is also undeniable. ...I need to relieve myself. I delay it as long as I can, but finally the intensity of discomfort overcomes the foolishness of pride.

The next time I wake, it's dark. It takes me longer this time to realize where I am...what has happened; why I hurt and can't move. Reality mixes with dreams—or hallucinations. I'm confined to a wheelchair. I'm made to sleep in a rock quarry. I've been in a train derailment. Oh. That's right...an earthquake.

Inhale... Help me, Jesus. Exhale... Help me.

It's light again. I drift. Aware...not aware. I reach for hope. This time the sky's gray.

Pain. Discomfort. They're living companions. Thirst, a monster.

I listen, strain to hear the sounds of rescue. Sirens, voices, anything. There are none.

Panic looks up in glee, eager to claim her power.

Help me, Jesus, help me.

She returns to her skulk; I, to my fog.

A repetitive sound penetrates. It's sharp, insistent, annoying.
Again, the ground shakes. Dust falls. Fills my nose...throat...eyes.

It hides hope.

Inhale... Help me, Jesus. Exhale... Help me.

My mind strays. What's real? This world? The next?

My prayer's real. The One I pray to is real.

Help me, Jesus, help me.

Light surrounds me. A being I can't quite see, lifts me. Out of discomfort, confinement, pain. He swaddles me in softness. Carries me away.

Jesus?

Calm pervades. I'm aware, once again, of a repeating sound. But it's different this time.

Insistent barking has been replaced by rhythmic beeps. Debris by pillow and bed. I'm clean and dry. I thirst no more.

Inhale... Thank you, Jesus. Exhale... Thank you.

Friday Fiction + Genesis Finalist!

2010-05-14T10:28:00.001-07:00

First, the big news…

After nearly two weeks of obsessively checking email and various social media sites hoping for some word on the ACFW Genesis contest, I came home, yesterday, to find a message on my answering machine saying that I’m a finalist in the speculative category!!!

For any who don’t know, the Genesis is the American Christian Fiction Writers annual contest for unpublished writers. The judges evaluate the first chapter (and an optional synopsis) of the entrant’s novel(s). I only entered one, and am so blessed (thrilled / amazed!) to have been named a finalist!

Here’s the list of all of the category finalists: 2010 ACFW Genesis.

The next step—which I’ve already started—is to make revisions to my entry and get it back in for the final round. Category winners will be announced at the ACFW conference in September.

Although I’ve noted it elsewhere, both publicly and privately, I’d like to once again say a huge thank-you to all of the coordinators and judges who volunteer so many hours to make the Genesis such a top quality contest!

Now…

For this week’s Friday Fiction, I thought it would be fun to look back to my (humble!) beginnings as a “public” writer. Here is my very first FaithWriters weekly challenge entry—just as it appeared when originally submitted in 2007…

Maddie Parker’s Gift

I barely glanced up as the pastor rose to make announcements. Absorbed in doodling along the edges of my Sunday bulletin it took a moment for me to realize that an uncomfortable silence had settled over the congregation. I laid my drawing aside. Tears streamed down Pastor Bob’s face as he struggled to regain composure.

“Maddie Parker went to be with the Lord on Friday.”

Murmurs of sadness and sympathy echoed across the sanctuary. I vaguely remembered Mrs. Parker as my first grade Sunday School teacher but could not recall having seen her since. I said a quick prayer for her family and friends then continued my bulletin embellishment.

“Maddie’s health problems left her confined to a nursing home these past ten years. Even so…she remained an integral part of this church’s ministry. And, though few of you were aware of it…the lives of each and every one of you here today have been personally impacted by her. Whether you knew it or not, Maddie Parker gave each of you a gift.”

Once again, I set pencil and bulletin aside and turned my full attention back to Pastor Bob…my curiosity piqued. How could a lady I barely remembered have such an effect on my life? And what did he mean about a gift?

“Before Maddie became ill she delighted in serving however she might be needed here at the church. She taught our young children, played the organ for services, made hospital visits and so much more.

“Maddie questioned me during my first visits with her at the home. Limited as she was--both physically and financially--Maddie wondered what she could do. How could she serve? What could she give?

“I had no answers for her, except a reminder to pray about it, and that I would do the same.

“On what must have been my third or fourth visit there with Maddie, she greeted me once again with her characteristic enthusiasm. When I inquired as to the change, she replied that the Lord had given her the answer. ‘No matter how my body fails me…I can still pray, Pastor Bob! That’s what I can give!’

“From that moment on Maddie became the embodiment of the term ‘Prayer Warrior’. Her name appeared first on our church prayer chain list. But Maddie did not limit her prayers to those submitted to the chain. Maddie poured over the local newspaper for items to add to her prayer list.

“The grand opening of Tom and Margaret’s business. The birth of Jenny Larson’s grandson. Todd Swift’s speech before the Chamber of Commerce. Frank Wilson’s lawsuit. Amanda Jones’ appearance in the high school play.”

I drew in a sharp breath. Maddie Parker had prayed for my performance? I had been nervous to the point of nausea waiting backstage. Yet an inexplicable calm had come over me as I stepped onstage, and my part went off without a hitch.

Pastor Bob continued to name many others in the congregation…detailing Maddie’s prayers for them.

“Before long Maddie became aware of prayer needs through a far greater Source than the prayer chain or newspaper. Jim…you had that terrible car accident when you were heading to work several years back. I had stopped to have coffee with Maddie that morning and she mentioned that the Lord had awakened her early--just before five--with your name on her mind, so she had prayed for you. When I arrived here, Mrs. Hanson gave me the message that you had been hospitalized as the result of an accident…and that the police considered it miraculous you had survived your 5 A.M. crash.”

“What happened with Jim was not unique. How many of us here today have experienced a sudden unexplainable change in circumstance? I have no doubt that at least some of these happened as answers to Maddie Parker‘s prayers.“

All across the congregation heads nodded in agreement.

“Prayer, my friends…deep, caring intercession about every aspect of our lives, was Maddie’s gift to each of us. And her final prayer in her last hours was that the Lord would awaken in many the desire to pass that gift along. He already has, in me.”

Again, the tears flowed. This time not only from Pastor Bob and the older members, but now also from nearly everyone in the congregation…each of us who felt the call to pass along Maddie’s gift.

Friday Fiction—I’m Above All That

2010-04-15T21:02:00.001-07:00

Please note that the above post title is the title to my story this week…not a statement about Friday Fiction! :-)

In fact, I get to host Friday Fiction today--yeah! If you would like to join the fun add your link to MckLinky, below.

My story this week is another for a Faithwriter’s challenge. The topic was “Snap”. I remember this was one of those stories that just popped into my head almost instantly after I read the topic. Ahhh…those were the days. It’s been a long time since that’s happened!

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it…

I’m Above All That

Tickle-tickle.

I shift my position and cover my ear with my paw so it can’t be disturbed.

Tickle-tickle.

Not the other ear!

Tickle-tickle.

I twitch that ear and try to settle once again to my well-deserved nap.

Tickle-tickle.

Still enveloped in the haze of near-sleep I lift my paw and bat against the irritating sensation of the very tip of my ear fur being moved in the wrong direction.

Tickle-tickle…tickle.

Enough already! I leap up, hiss and use both front paws to swat at the offending nap intruder…whatever it might be.

Giggles erupt all around me.

Oh, this is so funny. The feather trick again. Why do they never seem to tire of teasing me? I lift my nose, turn aside and stroll away with all the dignity I can muster in the face of such senseless ridicule. Really! I’m above all that.

As I make my exit, I hold my tail high and still…but for the very tip which I move in stiff, rapid twitches. …Although I must say, I hold out little hope my moronic companions accurately interpreting my clear message of irritation.

I move by the glass door, moisten my paw and luxuriate in my cleansing ritual. I pay special attention to my ears after their assault-by-feather.

Once again, the sounds of mirth surround me. Why is everything I do so funny today?

This time, I don’t even grace them with a glance in their direction, but move on once again. Why can’t they realize I’m above all that?

I saunter into the living room and leap lightly onto the couch. More twitters of amusement. Maybe if I just ignore them, they’ll tire of this game and go away. I look away and pretend they don‘t exist.

My resolve to demonstrate my disdain lasts mere seconds. A movement at the other end of the couch draws my attention.

He’s back.

I thought I had defeated him last week!

His red glow mocks me as he dances at the other end of the couch.

I propel myself from one end of the couch to the other in a single, graceful arc. Perfect timing! My paws close around my enemy. Dot is mine!

No, no, no! How can this be? In an instant he is at the other end of the couch tracing small circles along the arm. I leap again, and once more Dot moves. All thought of dignity or reserve vanishes as I seek my quarry. I must defeat him this time! From one end of the couch to the other, from back to seat, to floor, Dot and I engage in a frenzied duel. Time after time, I just miss him. How can he continue to escape? He seems almost other-worldly, this Dot.

He teases me from the front edge of the cushion, daring me to leap. I do…and immediately he drops to the floor. I twist my body in a mid-flight, land on the very edge of the couch and tumble to the tile below. Dot has disappeared. With a growl of frustration I search for him. Guffaws bounce about the room as Dot winks at me from the top of the couch’s back cushion. I demonstrate my athleticism as in a single leap I land on top of him. That should silence the laughter! I pierce my enemy with my ice-pick sharp claws, only to have him make an all but impossible escape once more. He grins up at me from the floor behind the couch. With the roar of my golden-maned cousin, I leap again. Too late, I see the mousetrap tucked behind the couch, next to the wall.

Snap!

I blink repeatedly in the unexpectedly bright lighting. Laughter reverberates like a living being; it fills the room with a palpable energy. Disoriented, I try to make sense of the setting. Finally, I spy my wife sitting in the front row, holding her sides--mirth-born tears streaming down her face.

Oh, no. It can’t be. I stand among the roar in disbelief. I had stood here before, only moments ago. --Or was it hours? Bragging. So very sure of myself. “No,” I had assured the entertainer. “I’m certain. You won’t get me to run around and cluck like a chicken or whatever it is you do. I cannot be hypnotized. I’m above all that.”

Friday Fiction—Menopausal Muse

2010-04-09T10:57:00.001-07:00

Finally! I’m actually at home today (I don’t know why every out-of-town day seems to fall on a Friday), so I can post a Friday Fiction story.

Joanne Sher is hosting (as well as moving!) today. If you’d like to participate be sure to visit An Open Book, and add your link!

Anyway, here is the long-awaited sequel to “On Strike”, which was my last Fiction Friday posting…

Menopausal Muse

Ten-thirty?

It can’t be. It simply can’t. Not possible. Nope.

But no matter how I tried to convince myself that I had not--once again--puttered away most of the morning with nothing to show for it, I had to admit that was, indeed, the case.

I trudged into the kitchen, my gaze flitting automatically to his chair at the table…the place I had last seen him. But it was empty, just as it had been for quite some time. How long had it been since he’d sat there, chair tilted back just so, enthralling me with his ideas for my projects? Days? Weeks?

I fixed a cup of tea, gave one last glance toward the table, sighed and pushed through the swinging door into the living room.

“Oh!” My hands jerked skyward. The teacup--and its contents--made a graceful arc toward the floor. “Who are you?”

Her answer was muted by the inevitable crash of porcelain.

“Who?”

“Why, your muse, of course. Were you expecting someone else?”

“No, no.” I stammered. “My muse is male and he‘s…” I stretched up to indicate a height well beyond hers. “And he has a…” I swept a hand across my upper lip. “He’s…he’s not you!”

“Oh, dear. No one told you. Tom was under a lot of stress. The supervisor ordered him to take a vacation. I’m his replacement.” She flashed a bright smile and cleaned up the teacup mess while I digested the news.

“Was it because of me?” Tears welled and quivered on my lower eyelids. “…Was I that bad?”

“Well, let’s just say that a woman of a certain age can be challenging for males--even male muses--to deal with.”

I trailed her in daze as she headed to the kitchen and gasped at what she did next.

“What are you doing?”

“What?”

“You just put the dustpan in the refrigerator!”

“I did?” She looked. “Oh, my…I did. Well, that’s not the place for it, now, is it?”

I sank into a chair and studied her while she returned the dustpan to the closet and made us each some tea. She was not unpleasant, I guessed. I put her as roughly middle-aged--although such things can be difficult to gauge in muses. She was short, slightly plump, and while she wasn’t ugly or anything, she wasn’t anywhere close to her predecessor in attributes that would be attractive to the opposite sex. She reminded me of someone…

When she brought the tea to the table, I accepted the cup she offered and also--reluctantly--the realization that Tom wouldn’t be back any time soon. I sighed. “If we’re going to be working together I should know your name.”

“Minnie.”

“Okay, Minnie, do you have any ideas?”

“Ideas?”

“Writing ideas. You know, the sort of thing muses are supposed to help with?”

She hesitated. “Um…why don’t you tell me how things have been going, first?”

“Terrible! Tom’s been gone for ages and I’ve written almost nothing.” I paced the kitchen and vented the frustration I’d tried to contain, then paused as a new thought emerged. “Hey! If you‘re supposed to be his replacement, why did it take you so long to get here?”

“Oh, that.” She looked down and mumbled something I couldn’t quite make out.

“Excuse me?”

“I started here as soon as Tom left, but I…forgot where I was going.” She bit her lip and looked up with a pleading puppy-dog expression.

“Oh, no. They couldn’t have.” But even as I said it, I knew it was true.

Minnie arched her eyebrows in question.

“Now I know who you reminded me of…you’re just like me! You’re as brain-fogged as I am. They’ve…they’ve sent me a menopausal muse! Grrr!”

She snapped right back. “Did it ever occur to you they sent me because I was the only one who might be able to put up with you?”

We glared at one another for the few minutes it took for our moods to swing to another emotion.

“I know,” Minnie said. “You could write about us!”

“Hey, that’s not bad. Really.” We both brightened and--between trips to absorb the chill of the refrigerator--worked through the afternoon.

Perhaps, one day, when all of this has passed, Tom might return with his abundant inspiration. I hope so. But until then, Minnie and I will muddle on through.

“You won’t forget to come by tomorrow, will you?” I asked her when she left for the day.

“Of course not!”

“And you’ll bring me some new ideas?”

“Ideas about what, dear?”

Friday Fiction--On Strike

2010-02-25T20:22:00.000-08:00

Yeah—I get to host Friday Fiction this week!

Ahem…I guess that’s one way to get me to post. (Obviously that good 'ol best of intentions thing isn't working out too well.)

Anyway, I’m pleased to host! Please feel free to use “McLinky” at the bottom of this post to list links to your stories!

My story this week may be a repeat post. I’m not sure. I would have said I was “positive” I had posted it here, but when I went back through all of my old postings I couldn’t find it. So…either my archives are faulty or my memory is. Probably the latter (sigh), the reason for which will be explained next week in the sequel to…

On Strike

Where is he? He knows I need his help on this project and that today after church is my last chance to work on it. It’s due first thing in the morning!

I peer out the window for any sign of his approach. Out of the corner of my eye I catch a glimpse of movement, so turn my full attention toward it. Nope…not him. It’s only the neighbor’s cat. She saunters into the driveway, flops on her side and stretches herself out to what looks to be the length of at least two cats as she absorbs the warmth from the pavement.

ARGH!

Unable to stay still, I go out back to vent my frustration among the flowers. I watch for him while I work. I never really know where or when he‘ll find me. Sometimes it seems he shows up only after I have all but given up hope.

He does not come to my back yard.

On the bright side, this work’s not a total waste of time. My life will be ending soon if I can’t meet my deadline, but at least I’ll leave this earth with a tidy garden.

Okay, so I can tend to over-dramatize a wee bit. But, hey…it’s what writers do.

Maybe if I go inside and try working on the assignment he’ll show up. …Yes, that happens sometimes!

I brew a nice cup of tea and settle myself in front of the computer.

I sip the tea. …No ideas.

I place my fingers on the keyboard. …And stare at the blank monitor.

Maybe if I just start typing something--anything--I’ll be inspired.

The …Nothing.

Aa Bb Cc …Still idea-less.

The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog. …Hmmm. Starts right out with action. --But has nothing whatsoever to do with my subject.

Maybe another cup of tea will help. I trudge into the kitchen. And lo and behold, there he is at last…sitting at the table.

“Finally! Where have you been? What do you have for me?”

Wordlessly, he leans a picket placard against the table.

ON STRIKE

“Come on. A muse can’t go on strike!”

“Oh, really?“ He folds his arms across his broad chest. “I suppose that goes along with how we always take the form of willowy females in flowing robes?”

I lift my chin defensively. “Well, you’re my muse, and if I want to picture you as a kind of angelic Tom Selleck, that’s my prerogative!”

I catch a hint of dimples as his dark moustache twitches slightly before he clears his throat and assumes a serious demeanor once again.

“So, just why you are on strike, anyway? It’s not like you’ve done any work on this project!”

“And why is that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you remember when I came over on Thursday? You said we’d talk after you finished your computer game. I left an hour later and you didn’t even notice.”

“Oh…”

“So I came back Friday. You were chatting on the phone. I knew you had this deadline so I waited an hour and a half that time. And, let’s see…yesterday you left me here for almost three hours while you went shopping. So, tell me why it is that you’ve been grumbling today about me being late?”

“I know…I procrastinate. But you will help me meet this deadline, won’t you?”

He leans forward to tap the placard then returns to his former pose, avoiding eye contact as he feigns a sudden interest in the refrigerator.

And so he remains the rest of the long day and evening.

Finally, with no hope of completing my assignment, I head to bed. Obviously, a conversation with the true source of my imagination and inspiration is in order.

“Why is this happening, Lord?” I groan.

Remember your prayer last week?

“You mean the one where I asked for wisdom in choosing priorities and greater self-discipline for better use of my time? Great. This is another one of those ‘Be careful what you pray for’ things, isn’t it?”

We laugh, but the message is loud and clear.

Morning finds my muse at the table where he‘d been the night before…minus his sign. Although glad he’s still here, I must admit to being miffed at the role he’d so willingly played in my necessary--but painful--anti procrastination lesson. That is, until he looks up with that disarming grin and begins to share his ideas for my next project.

Besides…he’s just too cute to stay mad at for long.

Friday Fiction: Wind of Death

2010-01-08T12:44:00.001-08:00

One of my goals for this year is to be more consistent on posting to this blog.

Ahem… Looking at my record these past few months, this should be quite an easy goal to accomplish. One post a month would do it! ;-)

Anyway, I thought I’d rejoin the very fun, Fiction Friday postings. It’s hosted, this week, by Sara at Fiction Fusion.

The following is one of my few FaithWriters challenge entries from 2009. It was for the topic, Green.

Wind of Death

The old-timers tried to warn us.

We didn’t listen, of course. Not only did we dismiss their prophecies, we made fun of those who tried to tell us about the dangers.

Nimali, especially, could do a perfect tottering old fool impression. He’d purse his lips and speak with a slight whistle like an oldster without teeth.

“You young ‘uns need to listen! There are dangers out there you know nothing about. Death! Disaster! They’re all around. Beware!!!” He would end the performance by stumbling about as he waved improvised canes--much to the delight of the raucous crowd.

Arthro and the rest of us would add our jokes and witty commentary. We had a grand time. But no one believed the elder’s apocalyptic pronouncements. …At least not until they began to come true.

First, it was the fog.

I entered the food pod one morning to find everyone all abuzz. Secta had just returned from his semi-annual trek to the equine center and he had news.

Bad news.

“You know that killer fog the old folks yammered on about? It’s true! I barely escaped. It swept in from the back and filled the whole place in a matter of seconds. It seeped through the cracks; it penetrated everything. I tell you, it was like something out of one of those Stephen King stories in the ancient archives!”

“How did you escape?” Pretty little Ptera asked, her voice trembling with emotion.

“I was by the front door, so I dashed out. But even though I got outside fast, the fog affected me, too. I could hardly breathe or move or even think. It’s a miracle I got away. But the others…”

He buried his head in his hands. When he finally looked up his face contorted in a grimace. Tears reflected in his eyes, making them appear even larger than normal. He looked around at each of us, shuddered and drew a ragged breath. “It was just horrible. They didn’t have a chance. They were dropping like…well, you know…” His voice trailed off and he succumbed to sobs.

It got worse.

One morning during chore time, I made my way to the refuse disposal module. Everything seemed normal, at first. Then I heard voices. Only a couple, and those were thin and weak. But their message was unmistakable.

“Beware…leave…save yourself!”

It took me a while to find the source of the whispers. I looked all around, but saw nothing.

Then I looked up.

What I saw sent a shudder of terror right through to my abdomen. They were hanging. Dozens of them. Most were already gone. The few who still had breath to put to voice called out their weak warnings.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“No! No…there’s nothing,” Muscid answered. “Most of us are here because we tried to help the others, and we ended up just like them. Please…go…save yourself.”

I hesitated, drew as close as I dared and saluted; then I left.

I called an emergency meeting of the Musca Domestic Council. It was time to listen to the elders.

Old Linneaeus was the senior council member. I had to help her to the podium. “I know things look bad, now. But I have to tell you--the worst is yet to come. ”

Several in the crowd shouted out similar questions. “What could be worse than the fog? Or the hangings?”

“The wind of death. The green wind of death,” she rasped. “There are many such winds--all life-threatening, but none as powerful as the green. I barely escaped it when I was a girl. It took my mother, my father--my whole family. But then it left. There was no sign of the green wind for a long time. We hoped it had been destroyed. But it wasn’t. I saw it again this very morning.”

So began one of the darkest times in our history. The wind took many, but a few of us lived to tell the tale. Now we’re the old timers. Now it’s our turn to warn the others. About the fog. About the hangings. But most of all, about the green wind of death.

* * *

“Hey! Look what I found last week. I thought this was gone for good.” The object was brandished rapidly. It made a whoosh with every pass. “The green one! I don’t know what it is. We have a bunch of flyswatters around here, but the green one works best of all.”

------------------

Author’s Note-- Animals (insects) were harmed in the development of this story. Names are based on the following: The housefly---Kingdom-Animalia; Phylum-Arthropoda; Class-Insecta; Order-Diptera; Family-Muscidae; Genus-Musca; Species-Musca Domestica Linnaeus.

2009 FaithWriters Page Turner Contest

2009-12-02T15:03:00.001-08:00

Hey, everybody! Contrary to what some of you might suspect, I have NOT dropped off the face of the earth! I’ve actually kept up reasonably well on some things, but in terms of this blog…well, as they say, not so much.

In fact, I was rather shocked when I came to do this update. If you had asked me beforehand how long it had been since I’d posted, I would have guessed maybe three months.

Ahem…it’s been more than double that. Sigh.

But that’s about to be remedied. I have news. GOOD news… My speculative novel Dominion placed as a Runner Up for the 2009 FaithWriters Page Turner Contest! WOO-HOO!!!

First place was awarded to Lynda Schab for her novel, Dead Weight, and the other runner up placement went to Lisa Mikitarian for Hundred Pocket Mirage. I was so honored and amazed to see my name on the winners announcement along with these very talented ladies!

I had posted my synopsis here, but someone whose opinion I greatly respect advised against doing that at this point, so I took it down again, except for the short teaser paragraph below.

A few of you saw the synopsis during the short time it was posted, and I got some very nice comments about it, which I appreciate! If any of you who regularly read this blog would like to see the synopsis--or if any of you would like to be a beta reader as I go through the revising process on the book--please contact me privately. ---Thanks!

* * *

A routine fishing trip.

That’s how it starts out, anyway.

What it becomes is more than anyone could have imagined…

--Dominion by Shelley Ledfors

Friday Fiction – Lessons From Grandma

2009-05-14T23:00:00.001-07:00

Yay! I get to host Friday Fiction today! I’m excited! Patty has given great directions for adding Mr. Linky. I hope I get it right… :-)

My story this week is from one of the FaithWriters Christmas theme challenges from last fall.

Even though it’s nowhere near Christmas, I decided to post it this week since it has “Grandma” in the title…because I’m a first-time Grandma as of Tuesday! :-D

Of course I can’t pass up a chance to post my new granddaughter’s picture (especially when I have a “captive audience”, LOL), so I’ll get to my story in a moment, but first, here is Ada Marie at a whole few hours old! She weighed in at 9lb. 2 oz. (delivered by c-section).

Okay…Grandma brags aside (for now! ;-))

Back to my story for this week… Although most of the story is fiction, the “glugs” part of it is true…it happened when my mother in law (a war bride from England) went to her mother in law (from Sweden) to learn some of her recipes. Swedish mom-in-law was happy to show her how to make the dishes, but had no written recipes, so some of the explanations for measurements were a little…creative!

Lessons From Grandma

“Three glugs.”

“Three what?”

“Yah, glugs. Tip the bottle, and glug, glug, glug, don’t ya know?”

I smiled at the memory as I added oil to the other ingredients…just like I’d been taught so many years before.

Over three dozen Christmases had passed since Grandma Petersson had taught me how to make her gingerbread cookies. I’d followed her recipe every year since. Oh! I did learn something very important in my first few solo attempts at making the fragrant creations, though. When measuring by the glug method it’s very important to use an oil container similar in size and shape to the one Grandma always used. …All glugs are not created equal.

Grandma’s cookies had been a tradition as long as anyone could remember. But they were only made at Christmastime, for some reason no one could ever quite explain to me. I asked about that once…

“Grandma, why can’t we make some of your gingerbread cookies for the church’s Fourth of July picnic? We could decorate them like flags and stuff.”

I never did get an answer. At least not one I could understand. Oh, Grandma did reply, but lapsed into Swedish, as she often did when particularly impassioned about something. But even though I couldn’t make out a word of her answer, her tone of voice and the accompanying arm waving left little doubt as to what Grandma thought of my proposal. I never asked again. Nor have I ever made the cookies for any time other than Christmas…even after all these years.

“Need any help, Mom?” Becky wandered into the kitchen and snitched a pinch of dough.

“No thanks. You just go on and play with Bree in the family room. I can watch you from here.”

My visiting daughter stretched out on her stomach on the floor beside the cracking fire. In front of her sat her daughter, who bounced on her bottom, clapped her chubby hands and giggled with glee when the blocks they stacked tumbled to the floor. Things had come full circle. Oh, my granddaughter wasn’t quite old enough then to learn Grandma’s cookie recipe. But I looked forward to when she was!

I longed to teach Bree some of the other lessons I’d learned from Grandma, too. Things like generosity, helpfulness…even selflessness (oh, what a foreign concept that is to many, these days!) Again, the cookies provided the perfect example. Grandma made dozens and dozens and passed them out to friends and strangers alike. She’d also teach anyone who wanted to know, how to make the treats themselves. I do suspect that somewhere along the line many adapted Grandma’s glug measurement to something a bit more conventional, though!

She was the epitome of love-in-action. She didn’t hesitate for one second to take me in and raise another child--long after hers had grown--when my parents were killed in a car accident. And her caring extended far beyond family. People knew that whenever they needed a helping hand, all they had to do was let Mrs. Petersson know. She’d always do whatever she could. And if she required extra help to meet someone‘s need…she’d just conscript assistance. I don’t think anyone was ever so foolish as to try to refuse her more than once. Grandma on a mission was a force to be reckoned with!

Cookies finished and cooled, I packaged up several dozen to take with us to the service at the church that Christmas Eve. I slipped one small bag of the treats into my pocket. I had something special in mind for them.

I must admit; little of the service registered with me. My thoughts returned to Grandma, and how important she had been to me...and to many others. But, it had been years since then. I was sure most would have forgotten long ago. As people grow old and less capable, they soon fade from the memories of all but a very few. That’s always seemed a shame to me.

After the service I visited with friends in the foyer. Finally, I broke away, came back into the sanctuary and made my way up front.

Even through blurred eyes, I could see that she was still beautiful. Although I knew what I viewed was a mere shell. The precious spirit which had dwelt within for more than a century had left to soar with the Lord. I blinked to clear my vision, reached to place my gift…and gasped.

The edges of tufted satin were lined with Christmas gingerbread cookies.

Fiction Friday- The Project

2009-05-08T08:50:00.001-07:00

Fiction Friday is hosted this week by The Surrendered Scribe.

My selection this week is a speculative piece I wrote for a FaithWriters Challenge entry. Some who read and commented on this story “got” it, and others didn’t. It’ll be interesting to see what any who read this think, if you haven’t read it before (or even if you have!) :-)

The Project

Clerk bounced up the stairs from the mailroom to deliver a package marked “Urgent”. The tousle-haired youth tossed the lightweight box skyward--then caught it again--several times along the way. Just outside the glass-inset laboratory door he lofted the package once more and reclaimed it with a flourish behind his back.

“What are you doing?” Assistant slammed the door open so rapidly, Clerk had to leap aside to avoid being hit. The youngster’s smile vanished and his eyes widened when he saw the near-eggplant shade of Assistant’s face.

“Just delivering this package addressed to Professor, sir!”

“I’ll give it to him.” Assistant tore the box from the boy’s hand. “How could you be so stupid as to throw this around?” He held the package inches from the boy’s nose. “Don’t you know its value?”

“No, sir. I had no idea. It’s so small I just…”

“You didn’t drop it, did you?”

“No, sir…not at all. I caught it every time.”

Assistant grimaced on hearing ‘every time‘ but he took a deep breath and muttered, “It should be okay...surely they would have packaged it carefully.”

The youngster--encouraged by Assistant’s tone--dared a question. “What’s in there, anyway?”

“ I can’t tell you!” Assistant roared. “Just don’t ever…ever toss what you are delivering again. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir. Never again!” The shaken Clerk fled without daring a look back.

Assistant glanced up at the chart of instructions posted on the wall…though he no longer had need of them. He had cleansed, suited up and entered the class-one cleanroom--where Professor awaited him--often enough in these past months he could follow the procedures in his sleep.

Inside, Assistant’s hands trembled when he tested the contents of the package. He could barely bring himself to look at the readout. If they were unusable…well, to put it mildly, Minister would not be pleased.

“They’re fine. No damage,” he announced with an long exhale into his breathing canister.

He and his boss set to work on the final programming of the miniscule components.

“It’s strange…we may never even see the benefit of what we’re doing today,” Assistant said.

“That’s true. But even if we don‘t, we can be proud of our contribution to the project. The reward to our country will be beyond measure! Eventually we’ll have hundreds--maybe thousands--of modified units installed in the most strategic locations. Through these, our government will gain access to high level meetings, top-secret documents, every form of communication…and no one will suspect a thing!“

The pair finished their work and returned to the outer office just in time to see the hapless Clerk peer through the window then knock. When Professor answered, Clerk thrust an envelope toward him and beat a hasty retreat.

By the time Professor had read through the message he was beaming. “It’s a great honor! Minister himself has invited us to observe the installation of our components into the very first unit which is scheduled for export soon!”

+ + + + + + +

Assistant and Professor sat surrounded by dignitaries they had previously seen only on news reports. Beyond a glass barrier half a dozen white-suited workers undertook the painstaking installation process. Through monitors which projected the microscopic display, they watched the workers make the intricate connections to link the components to the unit’s data processing and retrieval ports, sensors and more.

Following the installation, workers moved the unit to an adjacent room. Immediately the monitors showed--in perfect detail--the sights and sounds from that room. Exultant murmurs spread among the observers until Chairman silenced them with a raised hand. One test remained. To be successful in its future placement, the modifications to the unit must be all but undetectable. A definitive scan proved it to be so--even from the inside.

Cheering erupted in earnest at this news, yet once again it was quickly stilled. This time by Messenger. Without acknowledging anyone else he strode straight to Minister, saluted, and handed him a folder. Eternity passed in moments while Minister read.

Finally, he cleared his throat. “My friends…as we know, ours in a long-term project. It will take years before the fruits of our labors are ripe for the picking. Some in this room may well have passed on before then. But our patience will be rewarded! Not only is the unit working perfectly…so is the plan. This envelope contains the very best of news! The unit before us will be delivered to a U.S. senator. …He and his wife just signed the adoption papers.”

Giveaway Winner…

2009-05-01T08:15:00.001-07:00

It looks like I’m going to be away from the computer most of the day today, so I wanted to quickly post the winner of the autographed copy of The Shack.

Out of just short of 400 entries, the winner is: Rochelle Helms. Rochelle has a blog at http://leftcoastgirlie.blogspot.com

Congratulations Rochelle!

Coming Down to the Wire!

2009-04-29T07:42:00.000-07:00

The giveaway of the autographed copy of The Shack is ending soon!

You have until tomorrow, Thursday, April 30, at 11:59 PM pacific time, so there's still time to get an (or another!) entry in.

I'll announce the winner on Friday.

Good Luck!

Friday Fiction (Bull Terrier edition)- It All Comes Back to Me Now

2009-04-24T07:58:00.000-07:00

Friday Fiction is hosted today by Vonnie at My Back Door.

This selection is another my Bull Terrier owning friends will probably enjoy. I originally wrote it from a different perspective for one of the FaithWriters writing challenges, but later lengthened it a bit and changed it to the perspective of one of our clowns-in-residence! :-)

It All Comes Back To Me Now

I awake face down on the carpet. The sound of laughter surrounds me like a living being. I try to make sense of what’s happening, but can’t. Not quite sure what I‘ll find, I lift my nose from its cushion of plush fibers just far enough to survey my surroundings. A brightness I hadn’t expected assaults my eyes. I blink; a crowd has gathered.

Where am I? Who am I?

Ah, yes!

It all comes back to me now.

I rest my chin on the floor and look up at the group using only my eyes. The onlookers squeal with delight.

“Oh, I can’t believe this!”

“Somebody get the camera.”

“Doesn’t he look just like Eeyore?”

Mission accomplished. I remain thus for a moment and, for good measure, add in the rapid tail wag--the one so vigorous it extends into what my lady calls the wiggle-bum. The crowd roars their approval.

This is almost too easy. Everything I do today inspires mirth!

Delighted by my effect on the crowd, I perform another favorite--what the two-legs like to call my “screaming yawn”. Very big. Very noisy. Once again, I’ve amused them. I do the yawn mostly for effect, but--now that I think about it--the idea of returning once again to the land of slumber does have its appeal. A brief suspension of my role as entertainer extraordinaire couldn’t hurt. My adoring fans will wait. I place my chin across my curled paw and prepare to re-enter that other world. Ah. “To sleep; perchance to dream….”

“Hey, Sam! Don’t you want a cookie?” A tall man in the middle of the group waves several of the treats in my direction, then hands them out for crowd members to pass to me. I lift my nose and inhale in shallow, rapid chuffs to discern the flavor. Liver! My favorite.

For just an instant, I hesitate. You know, there are times I almost wish I could maintain the reserve, or better yet, the delightful disdain of Tiger, my feline housemate. I’ve tried. Really, I have. But it’s just not…me. I guess it boils down to the innate inability of my species--and especially my breed--to feign such decorum in the presence of food for longer than…oh, half a second. On a good day.

All thought of sleep vanishes like an unattended hotdog as I spring from my prone position in one grand, twisting motion. Reminiscent of a “sick frontside 360 with big air”. Or something like that. Okay, I really don’t have a clue what that means, but one of the friends of my boy described it that way. And I think I like it. Anyway, I know I like the attention the move always brings!

I score the first cookie by an Olympic-worthy execution of the snatch and gulp. One of the careless two-legs (and not a pup, either) was silly enough to leave a half-inch border of cookie showing out from the edge of her closed fist. That was all I needed. It’s mine, now!

Guffaws bounce around me. I’m not quite sure why they’re so thrilled with everything I do today, but I’ll take it!

They make me work for the next cookies. Great. Evidently they’re smarter than they look. I have to sit for one, down for the next, roll over for the one after that. Surrounded by laughter at every turn. But it doesn’t end there….

Once again, they tell me to “down“. I’m getting a little bored with this game, but I do want that last luscious liver-treat, so I cooperate. Then I see the hand slowly extend toward me. Oh, no. Not the dreaded balancing and--infinitely worse--waiting act! But it is. It takes the two-leg quite some time to find a spot to place the treat. Can’t they realize that I am simply not designed for cookie balancing? The first few attempts slide off my nose. I try my best to grab the cookie from the floor, but the buggers are getting wise to my tactics; their reactions are annoyingly fast. Sigh. I finally decide the only way for me to get that last treat is to put up with their foolishness, so I stay as still as a stone in order to facilitate the cookie placement.

“This is like trying to balance it on a football!”

My boy explains the intricacies of my kind to his companion--an obvious newcomer to the fine art of cookie placement onto the epitome of canine evolution. “Yeah, you’ll have to put it on top of his head. Bull Terriers don’t have normal noses. Their head is their nose. Or their nose is their head. Or something like that. Anyway, it’s all connected, with no flat spots for cookies!”

The raucous laughter of my audience almost makes up for the humiliation.

Finally the newcomer gets the cookie placed. I almost don’t dare to breathe, for fear I’ll dislodge the treat and they’ll have to begin the all-but-impossible balancing act once again. Thus begins my agony. Waiting, waiting….

“Three, four, five. Okay, Sam! Get the cookie!”

Did they say five? No wonder I’m so weak I can barely move! I marshal my last reserve of strength, toss my head to loft the cookie, and grab it before it reaches the floor. The crowd cheers. Usually this would have thrilled me. Well, okay, it still does thrill me, but I’m not about to give them the satisfaction of knowing it does. To make me wait five hours to get that cookie is just too much! They really must be punished for this. I give them “the look” (which usually melts even the hardest of hearts), and, for added effect, take a few steps away to sit with my back turned to them, giving only the occasional glance over my shoulder to be sure they notice the shun.

“What’s the matter, boy? That was great! You made it five seconds!”

Five seconds? It’s worse than I thought. The two-legs are delusional! Woefully lacking in their knowledge of the intricacies of canine existence. Completely unaware of the cruel rift in the space-time continuum which extends time almost interminably for my species during cookie-waiting. They just don’t understand.

I vacillate between forgiving the poor, misguided souls and continuing their well-deserved punishment.

“Hey, Sam. You know you can’t stay mad at us. Look what we have for you now!”

A red glow appears on the floor in front of my right front paw.

Can it be? It is. She’s back. My best friend (I love her!) My worst nightmare (I hate her!) That most elusive enigma…Dot.

She darts across the floor. I am right on her tail…if a dot has a tail. In an instant she changes direction and doubles back toward the crowd. I turn to follow, but skid out of control thanks to that evil anti-force field the two-legs have code named “laminate floor“.

“Look at him slide!”

“His legs are going like crazy but he’s not going anywhere!”

The crowd erupts in cheering and laughter. They trivialize our contest…call it variously “cat and mouse”…“Road Runner and the coyote” even “Laurel and Hardy”.

Dot traverses the room in a perfect figure-eight; around the chair in one direction, then around the table in the other. I do the same. She reverses the pattern. So do I.

And then, as suddenly as it began…it’s over. With a click, Dot is gone. I search for her, but she is nowhere to be found. It always ends like this. She appears; she leaves. Without warning. With never even so much as a goodbye. I tip my substantial proboscis skyward and howl my displeasure.

Disconsolate, I return to my rug and bury my face in the fibers.

“Three, two, one….”

Snap.

“Wake up, Sam.”

I awake face down on the carpet. The sound of laughter surrounds me like a living being. I try to make sense of what’s happening, but can’t. Not quite sure what I‘ll find, I lift my nose from its cushion of plush fibers and survey my surroundings. A gritty residue coats my mouth; its scent assaults my nose. Glaring light confronts my eyes. I blink; a crowd has gathered.

Where am I? Who am I?

I stand and look around. The roar of the crowd is deafening. Finally, I see my wife sitting front and center, holding her sides; mirth born tears course down her cheeks. The kids are there, too. A tall man walks toward me, holding out a microphone.

In an incredible déjà vu moment, I’m convinced I’ve been here before. On this very spot. Self-assured. Confident.

But what was it I had said?

The realization begins to dawn.

“No,” I had assured the entertainer. “I’m certain. You won’t get me to run around and cluck like a chicken or whatever it is you do. You just don’t understand. I cannot be hypnotized.”

But--somehow--I got irresistibly sleepy. Then, I awoke. As my d.…

Oh. No.

It all comes back to me now.

Friday Fiction – Up a Tree Without a Paddle

2009-04-17T09:04:00.001-07:00

Today’s Friday Fiction is hosted by Patty at Patterings. This piece is another FaithWriters challenge entry. This was from the quarter where the theme each week was a well-known saying, and you were supposed to write something that illustrated the saying without using the phrase itself. The topic for this one was “A man is known by the company he keeps”.

By the way, although “Charlie” is a fictional character, the idea—and the title, which is an actual quote—came from someone I know (who shall remain nameless! :-))

Up a Tree Without a Paddle

“I’d better find the book I need for finishing my report that’s due tomorrow or…you know what they say…I’ll be up a tree without a paddle!”

Poor cousin Charlie. He’s not the brightest bulb in the chandelier, if you know what I mean. Okay, okay…to be honest, Charlie is really not stupid. But he is unique. He does, shall we say, march to the beat of his own drummer? In a kind of absent-minded professor manner.

You see, Charlie loves to quote the wit and wisdom of the ages. Or at least Grandma’s never ending litany of wry platitudes. But the problem is, Charlie never seems to get these sayings quite right. When Charlie begins his now-signature phrase in that characteristic drawl… “Well, you know what they say…“ we all know what’s coming next. The murder of some well-known bit of wisdom.

Sometimes, he gets it totally wrong, like being up a tree without a paddle. On other occasions, he might have the wording right, but give the saying an entirely new twist. Like the time he was eight, and my aunt found a store of change in her fancy marble vase. Upon questioning Charlie, she was surprised to learn that this was the proper place to keep change, because, after all, “A penny saved is a penny urned.”

It’s funny, though. Despite mangled wording or alternate interpretations, Charlie often manages to portray the essence of a saying or some related truth quite correctly in his quirky way. Kind of like Yogi Berra. You know, the baseball legend famous for pronouncements like, “When you get to a fork in the road, take it”, or “The future ain’t what it used to be”. Or--the one which could be Charlie‘s life motto--“You’ve got to be careful if you don’t know where you’re going, because you might not get there.“

Yes…just as Yogi is known for his “Yogi-isms”, so our Charlie has his “Charlie-isms”.

One of my favorites came about when several of us had gone to watch my little sister Amanda compete in a swim meet. A fierce competitor, Amanda had done very well all season, but on that particular day had finished in second place by the narrowest of margins.

After the meet, Amanda emerged from the dressing room and stomped toward the car. Head down, hands stuffed into the pockets of her jeans, she made it clear that she was not pleased with her placement. She shrugged off all attempts to cheer her. That is, until Charlie quickened his pace to draw beside her.

“That’s okay, Amanda. You know what they say…you can’t win the mall.”

My sister whirled sharply…hands now on her hips, facing her cousin. “Did you just say you can’t win the mall?”

“Yep. You know…no matter how good you are, you can win lots of things but you can’t ever win the mall.”

This declaration worked where none of our others had. The corners of Amanda’s mouth twitched slightly…then softened into a smile. Finally, she chuckled. Patting Charlie on the arm, she acknowledged, “You’re right Charlie…you’re right.”

Another Charlie classic came at chicken butchering time. Our extended family always gathered to help accomplish the tasks involved. Dad and Uncle Bob dispatched the birds, while the rest of us took care of the plucking, cleaning and processing chores. When we had finished Aunt June made a quick tally then commented that we were short by a couple of packages. Uncle Bob admitted that two of the fowl had flown the coop, so to speak, on their way to meet their Maker.

“Well, you know what they say…”

Everyone looked toward Charlie.

“Don’t count your chickens before they’re hacked.”

Hmmm…a variation on the original, to be sure, but you have to admit…the meaning’s spot-on.

The Charlie-isms continue. The latest edition occurred just recently…not long after the death of our grandfather.

Grandpa had made some modest investments and his will stipulated that these stocks be distributed among his now-adult grandchildren. Charlie received shares of a natural foods conglomerate and a tobacco company.

“I’ll keep my natural food stocks, but I’m definitely selling the tobacco shares,” he told me emphatically one day, shortly after receiving his inheritance.

“But why? It’s a great investment.”

“I don’t care. They’re a business which causes harm. Like it or not, a man is judged by his associations. If I kept that stock I’d end up being known by my affiliation with that group!

I…just…won’t…keep…that…company!” he insisted.

“Because…well, you know what they say…“

Photo Slideshow

2009-04-06T19:54:00.000-07:00

Today's post has nothing to do with spec-fic, or even writing.

But, since many of my loyal blog readers have followed my camera drama here (from the demise of my little point and shoot in the Pacific Ocean to the long wait for the delivery of my DSLR and beyond), I thought you might like to see a little slideshow of some of the pictures I've taken.

With GREAT difficulty, I've selected a mere 32 of my favorites from among the almost 2,000 pictures I've taken over the past few weeks!

They do lose a little quality here, and I also wish I could display them bigger. But the next bigger size disappeared under my sidebar. If you'd like to see the album and have the option to view the pictures in a larger size (they really do show better that way) you can do that here.

I hope you enjoy them...

Another Precious Day

2009-04-03T18:16:00.001-07:00

Well, I’m a bit late posting my Friday Fiction this week. I’ve been traipsing about taking pictures with my DSLR again for a good part of the day! (I’ll post some here next week.) After all, what fun is it to finally get a long-awaited “toy” if you don’t play with it? :-)

But, even though I’m sure I’ll be way down on the list, I did NOT want to miss Fiction Friday!

It’s being hosted today by its originator—Patty at Patterings.

Oh! And one more thing before I post my story…if you haven’t yet had a chance to read the Guest Spec Fic piece “Replicate” by Peter Stone, scroll on down after you finish this post!

OKAY…without further ado, here is this week’s selection. Not speculative, but close to my heart…

Another Precious Day

I love to watch her when she’s sleeping. It’s kind of a cliché, I know, but she looks positively angelic in slumber.

Before I turn out the light I linger at the doorway for a few minutes. Her arms are flung over her head, one hand stuffed under the pillow. Her hair, still a bit damp from her bath, curls around her head in little ringlets. The baby lotion I used on her fills the room with a sweet scent that always makes me feel warm and contented.

The glimpses of heaven I treasure in this quiet time are often in direct contrast with the rest of the day. When the fierce independence typical of her age clashes with what I deem best for her, she can be anything but cherubic. And as for the scent--well, I hesitate to admit this--but even though I couldn‘t begin to count the number of diapers I‘ve changed, there are still times when only a supreme act of will keeps me from gagging. So it’s no wonder, really, that the sweetness of baby lotion seems to me as heaven-sent as her angelic expression.

“Is she asleep?” My husband sets his paper down when I return to the living room a few minutes later.

“Mm-hmm. I’ll check on her again in a little while. I don’t like the cold she picked up when I took her to the day care center last week. It doesn‘t seem like much right now other than a little stuffiness. But I‘m keeping a close watch on it and I‘ll take her in to the doctor if it seems like it‘s developing into more.”

He nods and smiles--using the expression he seems to think is supportive, but that comes across a bit condescending. “You wouldn’t be normal if you didn’t worry.”

“I suppose you’re right. You know, it’s funny. A lot of people think maternal hyper-vigilance is silly. But it’s just the way it is.“

Apparently oblivious to any hint my statement might apply to him, he changes the subject. “What did she do that was funny today?”

I draw my feet up beside me in the chair and lean back to review the day.

“Oh! You know how she just loved peaches last week? Well today I cut up a peach and put it on her plate with her lunch and you should have seen the face she made when she tried a piece. It was all I could do not to laugh. But you know how she gets mad any more when you laugh...unless it’s something she’s laughing at, too. Anyway, I pretended I didn’t see it. Then she pushed the rest of the pieces around her plate trying to hide them behind the other food.”

He chuckles, but it’s a chuckle in isolation. It sounds right, but his mouth is the only thing that moves; the change in expression doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Did you go out anywhere?”

“Yeah. I had to go to the grocery store. That’s always fun. I try to get her to hold on to the cart when we’re going through the store so she won’t wander off, but you know how that goes. Sometimes she cooperates and sometimes she doesn’t. Well, today was a ’doesn’t’. She absolutely refused to hold on to the cart--or my hand. She threw quite a fit about it. People kept looking at us. I wanted to just leave right then and there, but there were some things I had to get. So I just tried to ignore the outburst, bought what I needed and got out as quick as I could.”

“Well, that sort of thing is to be expected, I guess.”

“I guess...” Tears well up and threaten to spill over. This time my husband comes over, kneels down by my chair and encircles me in his arms.

I love the moments when he’s genuinely supportive. They give me an even more contented feeling then the smell of baby lotion.

“I know it’s hard. But just try to keep in mind that these days won’t last forever.”

I nod, unable to speak for a moment. Several deep, shaky breaths later the words tumble out in a rush. “I know that. And I really do try to keep it in mind. Each day is so precious, I know I won’t ever get these days with her again. I do treasure them. Yet at the same time it can be so hard sometimes just getting from morning to night. A lot of times commitment and a lot of prayer are the only things that get me through.”

He brushes the hair back from my forehead. “Sometimes that’s all you can do. That and try to focus on the peaches--not the meltdowns.”

Now it’s my turn to nod and smile. Only I’m pretty sure my smile reaches my eyes.

He stands and holds out his hand. “Let’s go check on her.”

We tiptoe into her room, now illuminated only by the warm, golden hue of the nightlight. I take a deep breath--calmed, once again, by the heavenly parallels. I lean down and kiss her soft cheek.

“Good night, Mom. I love you.”

Technorati Tags: friday fiction,precious day,caregiver

Guest Spec-Fic—Replicate by Peter Stone

2009-03-30T13:26:00.001-07:00

Don’t ‘ya hate it when “life” gets in the way of the important stuff (like blogging)?

Yeah, me, too.

With one thing or another I haven’t posted in over a week. …Sigh. I especially hated missing Fiction Friday this past week, but I’ll make it up to you today by posting a GREAT spec-fic piece written by a fellow FaithWriter, Peter Stone.

Peter said he doesn’t write much spec-fic, but I think he should! :-) The original version, The Medal (which was slightly shorter due to the word count restriction), came in first place in the Editors Choice, for the Siblings topic on FaithWriters.

Oh, and if anyone else has a story they’d like me to consider posting here, let me know!

Anyway, THANKS to Peter for sharing this story. I’m sure my fellow Christian spec-fic fans will love it as much as I do!

Replicate

by Peter Stone

“The CD cases and discs are covered with scuff marks--these ain’t bootlegs--they’re the genuine article! Where’d you get them, Sis? They’re practically priceless!” I gasped.

Sitting beside me on the bunk bed, Katiana squeezed my hand. “Happy Birthday, Bro. You are happy, right?”

“You think I’m faking this, Kiddo? I’ve been searching for these antiques for decades. And here you are giving me all three twenty-first century Ayumi Hamasaki Cyber trance presents ayu trance albums!” Although elated, a glance at her ruined face sent excruciating pangs of guilt shooting through my stomach. Decades had passed since she took that bullet in the face, but I would never become accustomed to the sight of her once beautiful features marred by translucent synthetic skin covering polymer muscles and ceramic bone replacements.

“Thought you’d be pleased.”

“Pleased doesn’t even begin to describe it, Sis,” I said. “I want to hear them now--you think I can skip the presentation?”

“Come on, Mike, you’re a war hero. Go get your medal. Then we can jack into the net and pop these albums on continuous play until we’re all ‘tranced’ out.”

With great reluctance I handed the discs back to her and stood to straighten my uniform.

Reality, however, took a right turn into the realm of hallucinatory dreams when the ayu trance 2 disc disintegrated into a cloud of microscopic dust--dust which of its own accord proceeded to envelope my sister’s exposed arm.

“Arrr…ungh…get them off me!” Katiana shrieked as her skin began absorbing the dust. It was like watching a mold spore’s explosion played backwards in slow motion.

I swatted frantically at the dust but this barely even impeded its progress. In a moment all traces of it were gone--assimilated by her arm. She tried to grab me but collapsed to the metal decking, back arched in agony while mouthing voiceless screams.

The door chimed.

This was no coincidence--the timing was too precise.

“Open,” I snapped.

The door swished open to admit two corporate-types in black suits and mirror shades: illegal arms dealers.

“What have you done to my sister?”

“Cooperate and we’ll remove the nanites. Don’t and we’ll let them replicate--inside her.”

“What do you want?”

A suit stepped forward. “The president pins a medal on your chest in two hours, Mister War Hero. Thanks to his orbital’s dampening field rendering our nanotech inactive, we can’t touch him. So you’re going to terminate him for us.”

Aghast, I looked at my sister as she writhed on the floor. Eight thousand orbitals had warred for seven centuries resulting in the deaths of millions. President Berenger not only brokered the ceasefire but also maintained the peace. Remove him, and the conflict would resume.

“You have any idea of how much she loves you? She spent a decade’s wages buying those ‘albums’ from us. You just gonna let us waste her?” the suit said.

His words cut to me to the core. But the proof of her selfless love for me was not these CDs, but her fearsome injuries--injuries that should have been mine. I hung my head, defeated. “I’ll do it.”

“Of course you will. Now hold out your left hand.”

The ayu trance 3 disc dissolved into another cloud of nanites that my outstretched left hand absorbed in seconds. Paralysed, I watched in dismay as the nanites opened my hand, rebuilt the bones inside into a fully functional needle gun that was undetectable by known security devices, and then closed up the wound. The nanites poured back out of me.

“When Berenger pins the medal to your chest, make a fist, aim it at him, and squeeze the hand.”

I was trapped and I knew it. I made for the door.

The suit touched my shoulder on the way past. “It takes an hour for replicating nanites to consume a human host. I’m told the pain is beyond human comprehension. Don’t fail.”

* * *

President Berenger was pinning a medal on my copilot’s chest. I was next.

I thought of my sister, contorted in agony, waiting for release. Her life was in my hand, literally. Two long centuries of memories flashed through my mind. Oh, the times we had spent together, the things we had seen. The support we had given to Berenger as he fought to end the chaos.

My face burned as guilt consumed me. Everything that so many had worked for, for so long, would collapse when I assassinated the only man whom could maintain the peace. The government would fall, chaos would ensue, the illegal arms traders would resume their lucrative business, and millions more would die as orbitals resumed open warfare--all because of me.

I thought of Jesus’ words, how He said not to fear those who can harm only the body but instead fear the One who can destroy both body and soul in hell. What I was about to do would guarantee me that seat in hell. Angry, I shot a prayer heavenward. “I know what I’m about to do is wrong Lord, but I have no choice! That bounty hunter’s bullet had my name on it, but she leapt in front of me, knowing what it would cost her. I owe her everything, Lord. I will not sacrifice her for some indeterminate greater good.”

Unaware of his imminent doom, President Berenger stood before me. He shook my right hand while he placed the medal on my chest.

My pulse roared as I made a fist with my left hand and aimed it at his heart. One squeeze and it would be over. My sister would be safe, and the Orbital Coalition would collapse.

“Well done, Wing Commander Daniels,” said the President. Then, for my ears only, “Thanks, Mike--I could not have done it without you.”

I lowered the hand. “Forgive me, Sis,” I mouthed.

A tear fell. My heart died.

“You okay, friend?” asked the President, about to move on.

“Emotional day, Sir.”

Fiction Friday – Vengeance is Mine

2009-03-20T11:16:00.001-07:00

This week’s Fiction Friday is hosted by Dee at My Heart’s Dee-Light. I feel bad because the past two Fridays I’ve been heavily involved in other projects and didn’t comment on the other Fiction Friday postings. I intend to remedy that this week, and comment on each of the others (Lord willin’ and the creek don’t rise!)

This entry is “heavier” than most I’ve written for the FaithWriters challenges. It was also an EC (Editor’s Choice) selection.

Vengeance is Mine

“I don’t care what I have to do or how long it takes, I’m going to see to it that he pays!”

Susan sighed. “I just don’t know what to say to you any more, Jim. You’re so sure you’re right that you’ve closed your mind. Sam’s tried to talk with you about this, but you refuse his calls. Since you won’t even let him try to explain, I’m just not so sure that Sam is totally in the wrong, here.”

“Not in the wrong?” I threw my cup across the kitchen. “I can’t believe you’re not taking my side in this! And why is that, Susan? Just because he goes to that church of yours?”

The mixture of sadness and fear in her eyes softened the edges of my hardened heart for an instant. …Until I allowed a thought of Sam to intrude, crowding out all hint of warmth.

As Susan quietly cleaned up the coffee splatters and pottery shards, she tried a different approach.

“Okay, Jim. Let’s say you‘re right. Let’s say Sam is one hundred percent at fault. Does that mean you should seek revenge? Your anger is really scaring me. Remember what it says in Romans…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. We’ve been over this before. ‘Vengeance is mine, I will repay’ …so says the Lord. Well, I’ll tell you what. You know how busy He must be taking care of everybody else, so I’ll just deal with this one myself. You know, lighten His workload.”

Susan shook her head as she returned the broom and mop to the closet. “Justin has a play date at the Thompson’s. We have to go.” She hesitated, “I’ll be praying for you, Jim.”

My reply was a snort of derision.

I watched from behind the edge of the curtain as Susan strapped Justin into his car seat then backed out of the driveway. My wife is a wonderful woman. But I get a little tired of everything having to relate to God and the Bible. It‘s not that I‘m against religion. I even go with her to church sometimes. I just don’t take it to extremes like she does. Her sentiments are even reflected on her car license, for goodness sake. As she turns the corner I glance at the plate…JSUSFRK. Yeah, that about sums her up, all right.

I puttered--and brooded--in my workshop for an hour or so until time to leave for my Saturday round of golf. My thoughts vacillated between a detailed review of the conflict--for the hundredth time, and plotting how I could even the score. The replay fueled my growing outrage while my planning brought a strange excitement.

On my drive to the course the scenery shifted from cluttered workspace to tree-lined country lane. But inside, my focus remained unchanged.

In this frame of mind I was in no mood for an imbecilic driver to pull out from a side road right in front of me. When I saw who it was, the rage I had so carefully tended erupted with an intensity I could never have imagined. Here was my chance. Although the scenario did not match my revenge plans, I would not pass up this opportunity to teach him a lesson.

Checking far ahead on the two-lane road I could see no one, so pulled into the oncoming lane and drew even with Sam’s car. I had no intent to actually harm him. But he didn’t need to know that. The idea of frightening him--of making him think that I might injure him--frankly filled me with delight. I swerved my car toward the side of his…pulling away again just before contact.

I saw what I had so desired…the look of pure panic. Yet its direction was not toward me, but rather just ahead of me. I heard the long blare of a car horn followed by the horrendous cacophony of metal engaging metal. And then…silence.

* * *

My awareness returns in fragments…brief, disjointed flashes of sight and sound.

Sam.

“…So sorry, Jim. …Wasn’t at all what you thought.”

Could I have been wrong?

Paramedics. One’s Mark from the church. Talking with Sam.

“…Drifting in and out, but I think he’ll make it.”

“And…?”

“Let’s pray.”

Emergency workers aren’t supposed to cry.

Flashing lights. Officer’s reports.

“Confirm two fatalities at the scene…’’

“…Vehicle license John - Sam - Union - Sam - Frank - Robert - King.”

Though my voice remains silent, my soul cries out to their God…

Dreams…But No Expectations

2009-03-16T12:33:00.001-07:00

One of the things Paul Young said at the OCW conference that really affected me was when he told us he decided, the year he wrote The Shack (which he intended only as a gift to family and friends, by the way, not for publication), he would never again ask the Lord to bless anything he did.

Hmmm…

He went on to say that didn’t mean he wouldn’t ask for blessings on his family, etc… but he’d no longer ask for the Lord’s blessings on his endeavors. Paul went on to comment that the reason behind this was because so many times we rush ahead to what we want, or think would be a good idea to do (‘for the Lord’, of course). Then we ask for His blessings, or His stamp of approval, on what’s really our plans.

Beyond that, Paul talked about how even when something is the Lord’s plan for us, we can tend to rush the timing and run instead of walk. Run right past the needs that are right in front of us; even run past our own loved ones in pursuit of that great goal.

Wow.

I’ve thought a lot about that in the couple of weeks since the conference. I have certainly done this at times. --No doubt it’s something I’ll have to guard against in the future, too.

So I’ve decided to think of it this way: I have dreams…but no expectations. That phrase comes to me a lot, these days.

I think it’s unrealistic to pretend we don’t have dreams. Especially those of us who write or pursue some other creative endeavor. Dreams are part of the package of an artistic personality. I have dreams. Some are really big…some might say unrealistic, or ridiculous, or even impossible dreams. But I have them.

BUT… though I have dreams (which is no surprise to the Lord, of course! :-)), I’ve decided that, from now on, I have no expectations. That doesn’t mean ‘no faith’, or ‘pessimistic’. It just means I defer to what His plans—and His timing—really are. Not what I think they are, or what I would like them to be.

So if something I write touches millions—or just one—or even if He leads me in some other direction entirely…if that fulfils His true plans for me, my deepest dream has been fulfilled.

I have dreams…but no expectations.

Technorati Tags: William Paul Young,OCW,blessing,plans,dreams,expectations

Fiction Friday: The Free Climb

2009-03-13T09:09:00.000-07:00

(If you're looking for information on the giveaway of the autographed copy of The Shack, it can be found here.)

* * *

Fiction Friday is being hosted this week by Rhonda at Beach Reads.

This story will always have a special place in my heart because it earned me my first "EC" or Editor's Choice award in the FaithWriters challenge.

How well I remember the shock and thrill of seeing my name on that list for the first time! :-)

The Free Climb

Here I am again. Always thinking myself to be supremely capable--even invincible--I often find myself as I am now…on the brink of disaster. This time much closer to that brink than ever before. I cannot go on. My only chance for survival is to go back. My breath comes in ragged gasps. I can hear as well as feel my pulse pounding in my ears, my head, my chest. Worst of all, drenching, terror-wrought sweat liberally lubricates my hands. Hands which need a solid, non-slip hold in order to maintain my tenuous grip on this narrow ledge. --For that matter, on life itself.

Come on, Bill, think. You don’t need to panic at a time like this.

Calling for help will do no good. I am alone. Why didn’t I listen when those more experienced tried to tell me that I was not ready for this climbing challenge? Instead, I decided to show them…in a big way! Not only would I climb, I would free climb. No ropes. No safety equipment at all.

I dare a glance down. The ground seems miles away. The cars I can see below me look like mere toys. A fresh wave of terror sweeps over me. Why, oh why did I look down? Another case of not listening, I guess.

Look around…but not down. Concentrate and come up with a plan. You can do this.

Now, how exactly did I get up here? I search my memory to recall, step by step, how I got to this point so that I can reverse my actions to get back down.

Ever so slowly, while maintaining my white-knuckled grip on the ledge, I inch my right foot out of the crevice into which I had wedged it in my attempt to gain additional height. Let’s see…I had raised it there from a position just below and slightly to the right of its current location. I wave the foot gently in the air, stretching to regain its former placement.

There’s something solid! Stretch just a tiny bit more. Don’t let fear overtake reason. You got up here, you can get down. Reach out…that’s it. Yes!

I allow myself an instant of quiet celebration.

Once again, I look around. Although I can see no one, I feel certain that I am not really alone. Strange as it seems, I can’t shake the feeling that someone is watching over me from somewhere nearby. A guardian angel, perhaps?

Okay, Bill. Onward and…well, downward. One step retraced. How many more to go? Never mind that. Just one step and then another.

My little self pep-talks seem to be helping. I continue. Left foot…right hand…left hand. Progress is excruciatingly slow, and ever wrought with the danger of falling. But I’m getting there. Each appendage moved once…now, back to my right foot again. I stretch as far as I can and wave my foot back and forth trying to find a foothold. Despite my best attempt to maintain a solid three points of contact while reaching with my right foot, my left foot slips from the safety of its hold, leaving me hanging by my hands alone. Now in a panic, I swing my feet wildly in an attempt to gain any sort of footing. This is a colossal mistake. The swinging of my body loosens the grip of my hands…and they slip.

God, help me!

The fall is not what I expected. It takes a mere instant…or is it an eternity? The landing is much softer than I would have thought possible from such a height. I feel a jolt, but no pain. Perhaps I am in shock.

I survey my surroundings and discover that I have landed on a reasonably wide ledge.

Thank-you, God. Show me what to do, now.

The answer comes not in an audible voice, but in an undeniable conviction to stay right where I am to wait for help. It will come…I am certain. I close my eyes and rest.

* * *

“Jim. Do you have a minute before your meeting? …Good. I just had to call to tell you about Billy. It was so cute. He almost climbed out of his crib today! He got clear up to the top of the rail before he got this look of panic and went back. He slipped down the last few inches on to his mattress and then fell asleep. …No, no. He didn’t see me. I kept just out of his sight around the corner while I watched.”

First Giveaway

2009-03-11T21:29:00.000-07:00

Okay… I still feel a little over my head, here, but it’s time to stop my obsessive study of how to do this, and just do it!

So, without further ado…

I am giving away an author autographed copy of The Shack, by William Paul Young. As I had mentioned in previous blog posts, the author was the keynote speaker at the Oregon Christian Writers conference I attended recently. You can read more about it & see some pictures here. (Again, if you can ever get to one of his speaking engagements, GO—he’s an excellent speaker!)

Since my blog is fairly new, it has a core group of wonderful, loyal readers, but hasn’t yet come to the attention of many others. So, I thought a giveaway of an autographed copy of a best-selling book (that’s a bit of an understatement where The Shack is concerned, isn’t it? :-)) might draw a bit of attention. The fact that this book has touched so many people (including me) AND that it is also both Christian and speculative made the idea of giving it away through this blog even more appealing!

SO—when the OCW convention came around, I bought a new copy of The Shack, and took it with me along with my own copy I had brought for the author to sign. I told him what I had in mind, and he graciously signed (and included an extra note in) the second copy for the blog, as well as my own personalized copy. (If you happen to read this, thanks, Paul!)

Contest Details:

--It’s open to everyone. I'll ship the book anywhere in the world as long as the winner provides me with a valid shipping address.

--Entries must be received by 11:59 pm (Pacific time), April 30, 2009.

--The winner will be selected using an online randomizer. The name of the winner will be posted on this blog. (He/she will also be notified by email.)

--For your original entry, just fill out the first two (or three) boxes in short entry form below. That's it!

The information you provide on the form will NOT be made available publicly or provided to marketers!

To find out how you can get EXTRA ENTRIES, scroll below the form.

EXTRA ENTRIES- If you’d like to increase your chances of winning, here are some ways to get extra entries.

Limit 9 extra entries per person (10 entries total.)

1. Discuss The Shack.

Like it? Dislike it? Did it change you? Bring you closer to God? Click on the comments button at the bottom of this post to share your opinion.

Please keep posts “family friendly” and relevant.

On the Extra Entry line mention Shack and the username you used for the comment.

2. Comment On Other Posts.

Post a comment to the comments section of any of the other posts on this blog.

Again, please keep comments both relevant and family friendly.

Oh, and if you’d happen to be interested in reading a bit of my fiction, the following “Fiction Friday” postings are all short stories (750 word limit) I’ve written for FaithWriters challenges:

Reality

On Strike

First Kiss

The Horrible Day--Revisited

On the Extra Entry line mention Comment and include your username and the title of the post on which you commented.

3. Promote this giveaway.

Tell about it on your blog or website! Tweet it! (Or Digg, Technorati...)

Include this link: http://the-veil-thins.blogspot.com/2009/03/first-giveaway.html

And/or -snag the book picture link at the top right hand column and post it.

On the Extra Entry line mention Giveaway and tell what you did. Include a link to where you promoted it.

4. Promote this blog.

Add it to your blog roll or links list or promote it in some other way.

Include this link: http://the-veil-thins.blogspot.com

On the Extra Entry line mention Blog and tell what you did. Include a link to where you promoted it.

5. Follow me on Twitter.

If you have a Twitter account, click this link, then click the "follow" button on my Twitter page: http://twitter.com/ShelleyLedfors

On the Extra Entry line mention Followed and include your Twitter username.

6. Surprise me!

If you promote this giveaway or blog in some other way you think deserves an extra entry, let me know. If I agree, you'll get another entry!

On the Extra Entry line mention Surprise and tell me about it. Include any usernames or links.

Technorati Tags: giveaway,"The Shack",autographed

Fiction Friday- “The Horrible Day…Revisited”

2009-03-06T14:03:00.001-08:00

Today's Fiction Friday is hosted by Shirley McClay.

Here’s another FaithWriters weekly challenge piece that’s speculative, but on the “lighter” side. This was one of my entries where the 750 word limit for the challenge was a real…well, challenge!

I’m glad to participate again this week. I missed last week because of the OCW conference.

Speaking of which, if you haven’t seen my post and pictures, scroll on down!

I should have an announcement about the details of the book giveaway (an author autographed copy of The Shack) next week. I had hoped to by now, but we had to repair and retile a bathroom in a little rental house we own this week. We finally finished today!

ANYWAY, here is my Fiction Friday story. I hope you enjoy it…

The Horrible Day… Revisited

“We missed you last week,“ Helen commented as I took a seat beside her at one of the long dining tables which lined the Senior Center, “I hope you weren’t ill.”

“Oh, no. I’m fine. I just got caught up with something and lost track of the time.”

If they only knew. Even now, my heart begins to race as I recall the scene…

* * *

I had been nearly ready to leave for our weekly dinner when the strangest feeling came over me. My spine tingled. A luminescent glow drew my gaze. The monitor on my desk--which usually displayed gamboling kittens--now appeared alive, pulsating in shades of blue-green I had never seen before. My computer seemed to call me. Not like when someone says glibly, “Oh, I was going to go wash the dishes but my computer called to me so I went to check my email instead.“ I mean it beckoned…no, commanded me to draw near.

Mesmerized, I obeyed. At once the eerie hues began to swirl. As if emerging from a mist, a face appeared in the spiral’s center. The face, though tear-streaked, was oh, so familiar. She screamed.

I screamed.

“Look, I don’t know what is going on here, old lady, but this is freaky! Who are you?”

“Oh, my. Of course, you would have no idea who I am, but I’m quite certain I know your identity. You’re…you’re me! A good sixty years ago, by the looks of you.” I sank into the desk chair, fanning my face with a trembling hand.

“Well, don’t die or anything, lady! I mean…Sarah.”

I said a prayer to calm myself as we surveyed one another. “Have you any idea what could have caused this?”

“Um…yeah, maybe. I’ve just had the most horrible day imaginable! And I kind of…yelled at God. I told him I needed to know that nothing worse would ever happen…because if it did, I’d just die!” Young Sarah’s face contorted into a grimace. “Will I ever feel any better?“

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” I asked, though certain I already knew the answer.

Her words tumbled over one another in a rush.

“I have never been so embarrassed in all my life! I finally got up enough nerve to say ‘Hi’ to that dreamy Jeff Phillips. And he actually said ‘Hi’ back! Then I saw him watching me in the cafeteria. I couldn’t believe it! So I hiked my skirt up a little, tossed my hair and flashed a big smile as I went up to get a piece of pie. And then…and then…”

Sarah gulped for air to fuel her sobs. “Then I slipped. I…I fell right on my behind in front of the whole school! Everyone clapped and laughed…including Jeff! I wanted to disappear. I just burst into tears and ran out of there.

“…Then to add insult to injury that annoying Jeremy Jones had the nerve to follow me and tell me that it would all be okay…what‘s done was done. I just needed to lighten up and not take things so seriously. “

Sarah continued in a snarl, “‘Learn to laugh at yourself“, he said. Can you believe it? What an idiot!

“So, tell me…this horrible day must be the worst in my--in our--entire life, right?”

I smiled lovingly at the Sarah I had been, so long ago.

“I can’t honestly say today was the worst. But I can tell you that some of the most incredible blessings and joys you’ll ever experience will come about as a direct result of this horrible day. --Oh, and ‘idiot‘--or not--Jeremy Jones is absolutely right. Life goes much better when you learn to laugh at yourself. …And you will.”

The colors on the monitor began to swirl once again. Just before they closed across the screen, young Sarah glanced up with a glimmer of hope in her eyes and a hint of a smile on her lips.

* * *

I returned from the dessert bar to take my seat at the table once again, only to find myself sitting on the floor amid splinters of wood and crumbs of chocolate cake. After assuring everyone that I was unhurt, I noticed a few snickers, but they were difficult to hear over my own hearty laughter. Emily--one of the center’s young volunteers--hurried over to help me clean up the mess.

When we had finished she gave me a big hug and brought another chair.

“Sit here, Mrs. Jones, and I’ll bring you another slice of cake.”

A Wonderful Weekend

2009-03-02T20:32:00.001-08:00

As I had planned, I attended my first writers conference this past weekend—the Oregon Christian Writers winter conference in Salem, Oregon. I also got to visit with some family I don’t get to see as often as I’d like. It was a wonderful weekend! Here’s a short recap…

First of all, I stopped by the package place on my way out of town and my new camera was there—so I got to take it with me (finally)!!!

I made one little detour on my way to my cousin’s house on Thursday. I took the “scenic route” for a while in Portland when I couldn’t get into the right lane to take the exit to I-205, so took another exit and thought I could find my way over from there. (I couldn’t.) All of this in “big city” traffic was a bit stressful for a small town gal like me, but eventually I got to my destination. I had a wonderful dinner and great time visiting with several cousins…some of whom I hadn’t see in a long time. I almost tucked an adorable black and white kitty (who I swear is the feline version of a Bull Terrier) into my bag when I left the next morning, but reluctantly decided against it.

On Friday I headed down to Salem and stayed at the conference’s host hotel so I’d be there bright and early for my first writers conference. I’m glad I did, ‘cause I got a great seat at a table right up front (see pictures, below.)

The conference was fantastic! I can sure see how people can get “addicted” to them and attend as many as possible!

As I had said in my last post, the speaker was William Paul Young (he goes by Paul), author of The Shack. If you haven’t read the book, it is a must-read! If you have, whatever your opinion of it (people tend to have strong feelings about the book, one way or the other), I would highly recommend going to hear the author if you get a chance. He’s a great and entertaining speaker and had the audience riveted and alternating between laughter and tears.

In addition to the two general sessions at which Paul spoke, I also attended his workshop and another on making a “one sheet”, which also provided valuable information.

After the conference, I went to my sister’s and had another great meal and visit with more family there. On Sunday I headed home (through heavy rain) to hubby, son, doggies, kitty and bird--all of whom I missed!

Here are some pictures I took on Saturday of the speaker. There’s also one someone else took of me with him when I got my books signed. …Did I mention these were with my new camera? (Yeah, I thought so, but I wanted to be sure!) I had everything set on “auto” for these pics, since I didn’t have much time to study the camera. I think they came out pretty good (thanks to the camera not to me, LOL.) I cut these down for faster posting, but the detail in the larger copies is amazing.

Did you notice I said books (plural), when I mentioned getting the author’s autograph? Yep…books. One was my copy, and the other is one he graciously agreed to sign for me to give away to someone through this very blog! (Details to come in future posts.)

I’ll be posting more about the conference and some of what Paul had to say, but I want to wait until I get the conference CD’s I ordered, so I’ll be using accurate quotes.

Stay “tuned” right here for those posts (and hopefully some great discussion via the comments), and also more info on the giveaway of an autographed copy of The Shack!

Technorati Tags: writers conference,OCW,Oregon Christian Writers,The Shack,William Paul Young,book giveaway,autographed

Oregon Christian Writers Conference + Camera Drama…

2009-02-25T17:18:00.001-08:00

As I’ve mentioned in earlier posts, having time available to devote to my long-held interest in writing is a fairly recent phenomenon. I started with online groups (like FaithWriters). Then, after I progressed a bit in my writing, I wanted to make some local connections, so I joined Oregon Christian Writers. Now, I’m going to attend my first OCW conference on Saturday!

The keynote speaker is Wm. Paul Young, author of The Shack. I’m really looking forward to learning from him, the seminar speakers, and meeting some “live” writers within my own state! (Hmmm…that could make it sound like I’ve previously met dead Oregon writers. I haven’t. Sheesh…combine a speculative imagination with a weird sense of humor and what do you get? …Me, I guess! ;-))

Anyway, I’m really pleased to be going, and look forward to sharing the experience with you in future posts.

But, as you might have guessed from the dual title above, there’s more to this story than that of first-time conference attendee. Yep. The BIG question where this conference is involved is: “Which camera will she have?” (Imagine that question spoken in a deep, movie-trailer kind of voice. That’s how I “hear” it anyway. Okay, back to the story…)

As some of you know, I’ve had a bit of camera drama going on. I had written about the first part of said drama in my blog post "My Excuse". But, as my “Facebook” friends know, there’s more to the story…

Since I’d already ordered my long-awaited upgrade from “point and shoot” to digital SLR (a Canon 50D) a few days before drowning my little camera, I thought…no problem! I’d have my new camera long before leaving for the conference. (I’m leaving tomorrow morning actually—to visit family the next couple of days then go on to the conference from there.)

But, you know what they say about plans… There has been one delay after another on the camera. I had thought I’d get it by last weekend so that I could practice with it but, alas, that was not to be. But finally one day I got that precious email with the tracking info. At long last my first SLR had left the camera store and I could follow its progress across the country! When I clicked on the link I was thrilled to see that it was scheduled to be delivered today. Yippee!

…Then I got the notice that package shipping company had rescheduled and it wouldn’t be delivered until tomorrow afternoon. (You did notice, didn’t you, I’d indicated above that I’m leaving tomorrow morning?)

Not one to give up easily—okay…I have been called the “s” word on occasion (stubborn, that is)—I went to the local office of the package-delivery company and found out they actually do open before I leave. (According to their posted hours they didn’t open until later, but the lady at the desk said you can go in for package pick-up earlier than that.)

They said they wouldn’t put the package on the truck for delivery, but would hold it there for me to pick up on my way out of town in the morning.

Yippee again! (I think…)

With all of the delays so far, I’m not counting on anything until I have package in hand. We’ll see in the morning, I guess!

So—if you’re attending the OCW conference on Saturday, look for the wide-eyed newbie doing one of two things:

A. Fumbling with a lovely, brand new 50D having no clue how to use it, or,

B. Using a small, old (as in the one I had before the one I drowned) point and shoot camera, while muttering something about stupid camera and/or package shipping companies.

Either way, that’ll be me!

Stop by and introduce yourself. …You know how I really want to meet “live” writers!

Not exactly speculative, but…

2009-02-20T08:02:00.001-08:00

I don’t know what it is, but for some strange reason Bull Terriers keep working their way into my writing. Maybe living with the goofballs for the past nineteen years has something to do with it. They’re certainly unique (okay…some would say strange). And they definitely take over your life. Actually, I’m convinced they have secret plans to extend their influence to take over the world one of these days…

Hmmm… maybe Bull Terriers are speculative after all!

At any rate, they do seem to worm their way into my writing, just as they did into my life (there’s even one in my novel-in-progress). So, today’s Friday Fiction offering is a bit of fun I thought my fellow Bull Terrier enthusiast readers might enjoy.

Who knows, maybe a few normal (er, non-Bull-Terrier-owning) people out there might even like it! :-)

Today’s Friday Fiction is hosted by Yvonne at My Back Door.

First Kiss

My life ended the summer I turned twelve. Not literally, of course. But the changes I experienced then certainly amounted to an ending of the life I had known up to that point.

It’s an old, sad tale. One many of us have experienced. That was the year my best friend moved away…

* * *

“Are you going to just sit there and mope all day, boy?”

“What else is there to do? This summer just goes from bad to worse. First Steve’s family had to leave, and then I found out that the new people moving into their place only have one kid…a girl! I can‘t think of anything worse.“

I kicked at a loose stone near the tire swing where I had “parked my carcass” as Dad liked to say.

“Ow!“ A sharp pain indicated my error as to the rock‘s mobility.

Dad chuckled as he ran his fingers across the red stubble on his chin. “Don’t you think you should reserve judgment until you actually meet her, Brad? Mom’s made a pie, and we thought we should all go over and introduce ourselves. That is, if you’re not too busy with your landscaping.”

“Okay…I guess.”

Through my dusty sneaker I rubbed my protesting toes, but the ache of missing my friend could not be so easily assuaged.

“I know it’ll be tough with Steve gone, but remember that some of God’s most wonderful blessings can start out disguised as our biggest disappointments.”

“Oh, great. Now I suppose you’re going to tell me that this new girl will end up to be the love of my life…and we’ll share our first kiss in the barn…and ten years from now we’ll get married and live happily ever after. Yuck.”

“Stranger things have happened.” Dad winked at Mom. The oft told story of their romance closely resembled the scenario I had just described.

“Well I don’t care about all that stuff. I just want to go fishing and build forts and that kind of thing like I did with Steve. Girls don‘t care about any of that.”

I was right, for the most part. Jenny didn’t like to fish or build. And I certainly had no interest in sewing and such. But we did spend a lot of time together. Being the only kids living near each other in our rural area, often our only choice for same-age companionship was each other.

We found a good middle ground for our time together. We went on hikes and picnics, picked berries and gathered materials for my building projects or Jenny’s crafts. Many evenings we played board games or watched movies with either her parents or mine.

Jenny’s dog accompanied us nearly everywhere that summer. A stout, funny-looking canine with a most unusual football-shaped head, Millie kept us in stitches with her antics.

It certainly wasn’t the summer Steve and I had planned before his Dad’s job transfer, but as time went on, I must admit that I started to look at Jenny in a little different way. Maybe spending time with a girl wasn’t so bad after all.

I turned twelve near the end of the summer.

“Brad--I wanted to give you something extra special for your birthday.“

“You didn’t have to buy me anything, Jenny.”

“Well, it isn’t exactly bought. Um…it’s in here.” Jenny headed for her barn.

I tried to think of something to say, but couldn’t. Not that it would have mattered, anyway. My mouth was suddenly devoid of all moisture. So, I just followed her.

Is this what I think it is? What Dad teased me about? History repeating itself? I’m not sure I’m ready for this!

Jenny led the way to the far back corner of the barn.

I will never forget that first kiss. The softness of her hair. The scent of her breath. Her eyes were closed. Her ears, too. After all, puppies’ eyes and ears stay sealed for the first couple of weeks.

Millie thumped her tail enthusiastically as if in approval of the gift.

* * *

It turns out Dad was right. What started out as my worst summer ever, ended as one of my best. Once she was old enough to leave her mom, Penny and I became inseparable. She was my best friend, supreme entertainer and confidante extraordinaire well into my adult years.

Oh, and Jenny? She and Bob still live on the neighboring farm. Amber and I visit them frequently. Our kids often play together.

So do our Bull Terriers.