Phyllis H. Moore's Blog
August 22, 2018
What's in a Name
When I started writing Birdie & Jude, my dog, Ollie, was declining and eventually had to be put down. Birdie has a terrier in the story, so his name became Ollie and he took on Ollie's grumpy attitude. I had Ollie for more than twelve years. He was adopted when he was two. This picture looks exactly like Ollie would have looked after riding on the beach with his head hanging out the window. His young self would have relished the brush when we got home and rolled over so it could smooth every hair on his head. His older self would have cursed and walked off if he saw the dog brush. Check out my Pinterest Board, Heartbeat at My Feet, for some cute pet pictures.
In the Ember Months, Lucy adopts a dog for her sons after an epiphany following the tragic loss of a friend. Roxy is the symbol for new beginnings, acceptance, and the release of perfection. She's the reason the boys can drape themselves around her, their stepmother, and start the conversations they would have avoided before Roxy.
Jimmy Dale Evans was the keeper of the pets in Opal's Story. For a reason none of his siblings could understand, every dog they had followed him with undying loyalty: Biscuit, Tamale, Macon, Jerry Lee Lewis "J.L.", Hailey, Boswell, and Bosco. Jimmy Dale's character reminded me of my father and his history of dogs' names after pilots: Millie (Amelia Earhart), Yeager (Chuck Yeager), and Lindy (Charles Lindburg).
Sabine had Augie and Remy. They were both small terriers. Sabine's brother, Billy, adopted Augie for Sabine when he discovered she lost her first dog, Remy. Sabine didn't name Remy. He was a neighbor's dog who was her constant companion and refused to go home. However, she named Augie after the month Billy gave her to her, August. Later, Sabine discovered her mother, Josephine had done the same thing with some of her children, June.
Dogs seem to learn their names quickly. However, I think it's more the tone of voice than anything. A pet psychic told me Ollie "was tickled" that I referred to him as Ollie Bubba. She said he liked the fact that people thought it was funny and he didn't mind. The current dog at our house, Savannah, belongs to my son, however she's glued to me when he's not home. I started calling her Kitty Bartholomew because she has the same hairdo. She answers to both names, but she swoons to Kitty. With no access to the pet psychic, I'm not sure how she really feels about it. But I do know she doesn't like home made sweaters. See the look on her face? I think she's upset it makes her look flat-chested.
One of the things I like about writing is first, that I can name all the pets any names I want, and second, that I can kill people. I know, it's a little sick, but it's freeing. I've never killed a pet on purpose, but sometimes, for a touch of the real world and personal growth they have to go. Too often, the humans in their lives cling to them and beg them not to go and they stay longer than they should, unable to get to a more comfortable place. We have them for a limited time and they know better than we do what their purpose is. I do believe there are people who can see into their souls and know what they're thinking, Temple Grandin and Myra Logan.
Their names conjure memories of childhood, silly antics and family gatherings. RIP: Ollie Bubba, Boots, Bomber, Gillie, Boogie, Bandit, Mollie . . .
In the Ember Months, Lucy adopts a dog for her sons after an epiphany following the tragic loss of a friend. Roxy is the symbol for new beginnings, acceptance, and the release of perfection. She's the reason the boys can drape themselves around her, their stepmother, and start the conversations they would have avoided before Roxy.
Jimmy Dale Evans was the keeper of the pets in Opal's Story. For a reason none of his siblings could understand, every dog they had followed him with undying loyalty: Biscuit, Tamale, Macon, Jerry Lee Lewis "J.L.", Hailey, Boswell, and Bosco. Jimmy Dale's character reminded me of my father and his history of dogs' names after pilots: Millie (Amelia Earhart), Yeager (Chuck Yeager), and Lindy (Charles Lindburg).
Sabine had Augie and Remy. They were both small terriers. Sabine's brother, Billy, adopted Augie for Sabine when he discovered she lost her first dog, Remy. Sabine didn't name Remy. He was a neighbor's dog who was her constant companion and refused to go home. However, she named Augie after the month Billy gave her to her, August. Later, Sabine discovered her mother, Josephine had done the same thing with some of her children, June.
Dogs seem to learn their names quickly. However, I think it's more the tone of voice than anything. A pet psychic told me Ollie "was tickled" that I referred to him as Ollie Bubba. She said he liked the fact that people thought it was funny and he didn't mind. The current dog at our house, Savannah, belongs to my son, however she's glued to me when he's not home. I started calling her Kitty Bartholomew because she has the same hairdo. She answers to both names, but she swoons to Kitty. With no access to the pet psychic, I'm not sure how she really feels about it. But I do know she doesn't like home made sweaters. See the look on her face? I think she's upset it makes her look flat-chested.
One of the things I like about writing is first, that I can name all the pets any names I want, and second, that I can kill people. I know, it's a little sick, but it's freeing. I've never killed a pet on purpose, but sometimes, for a touch of the real world and personal growth they have to go. Too often, the humans in their lives cling to them and beg them not to go and they stay longer than they should, unable to get to a more comfortable place. We have them for a limited time and they know better than we do what their purpose is. I do believe there are people who can see into their souls and know what they're thinking, Temple Grandin and Myra Logan.
Their names conjure memories of childhood, silly antics and family gatherings. RIP: Ollie Bubba, Boots, Bomber, Gillie, Boogie, Bandit, Mollie . . .
April 10, 2018
There's Something About an Unreliable Narrator
Some of my favorite novels are told from the point of view of the unreliable narrator: Catcher in the Rye, by J. D. Salinger, The Girl on the Train, by Paula Hawkins, Lolita, by Vladimir Nabokov, The Great Gatsby, by F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, by Mark Haddon, Atonement, by Ian McEwan, Alias Grace, by Margaret Atwood, and Wuthering Heights, by Emily Bronte, to name a few. An extensive list of novels with unreliable narrators can be found on GoodReads. Check it out. You might find many of your favorites there also. My character, Josephine, in Josephine's Journals is as unreliable as they come. She appears again as DeCe in Tangled a Southern Gothic Yarn.
I recently read a novel recommended to me by my friend, Ginger. She was captivated by the story and thought any writer might like it also. I took her advice. It was an engrossing story for many reasons. The setting was bleak and the characters were few, but there was something about hanging out with Helena Ross that drew me in. The novel is The Ghostwriter by Alessandra Torre. Torre is a New York Times best selling author. She writes in several genres and I will certainly try others, but she has knack for suspense.
We learn immediately from Helena Ross, the protagonist, that she is a successful romance author, young, but recently diagnosed with cancer with only a few months to live. We also know she has been married and had a child. What we won't know for a while, is where the other members of her family are. She lives a fairly miserable life in an expensive, yet empty house, snapping at anyone who rings her doorbell. However, there is something she wants to write for publication before her demise. In order to accomplish this, she decides she will need a ghostwriter. Her choice is unconventional and as it turns out, as shocking for her as it is for the writer. This will be the first of several twists.
So, the setting is bleak and the characters are few; the story is the climb. It's unwrapped a piece at a time, handing the reader the bits of information about Helena they want to know, even when they don't like her much. It's a struggle to identify with her. She tells her bits in the first person, thus the unreliable narrator. The other characters are revealed in third person, drawing us even closer to Helena. She is both hero and culprit, and we really feel the duplicity when the ghostwriter arrives, a person immediately likable. But we soon learn all the characters are vulnerable, flawed, and real, even Helena's mother, someone she has no affection for.
It's a puzzle of a story and not easy to categorize into genre. It's emotional and draws the reader in slowly until they are gut punched and falling right along with Helena. Her resolution is brilliant and ties the whole dilemma up beautifully. It's a plan gone terribly wrong and then propped up again, not the same, but in a fashion we can live with. I highly recommend this novel for anyone who wants to be taken on a journey. Allesandra Torre will take you there.
I recently read a novel recommended to me by my friend, Ginger. She was captivated by the story and thought any writer might like it also. I took her advice. It was an engrossing story for many reasons. The setting was bleak and the characters were few, but there was something about hanging out with Helena Ross that drew me in. The novel is The Ghostwriter by Alessandra Torre. Torre is a New York Times best selling author. She writes in several genres and I will certainly try others, but she has knack for suspense.
We learn immediately from Helena Ross, the protagonist, that she is a successful romance author, young, but recently diagnosed with cancer with only a few months to live. We also know she has been married and had a child. What we won't know for a while, is where the other members of her family are. She lives a fairly miserable life in an expensive, yet empty house, snapping at anyone who rings her doorbell. However, there is something she wants to write for publication before her demise. In order to accomplish this, she decides she will need a ghostwriter. Her choice is unconventional and as it turns out, as shocking for her as it is for the writer. This will be the first of several twists.
So, the setting is bleak and the characters are few; the story is the climb. It's unwrapped a piece at a time, handing the reader the bits of information about Helena they want to know, even when they don't like her much. It's a struggle to identify with her. She tells her bits in the first person, thus the unreliable narrator. The other characters are revealed in third person, drawing us even closer to Helena. She is both hero and culprit, and we really feel the duplicity when the ghostwriter arrives, a person immediately likable. But we soon learn all the characters are vulnerable, flawed, and real, even Helena's mother, someone she has no affection for.
It's a puzzle of a story and not easy to categorize into genre. It's emotional and draws the reader in slowly until they are gut punched and falling right along with Helena. Her resolution is brilliant and ties the whole dilemma up beautifully. It's a plan gone terribly wrong and then propped up again, not the same, but in a fashion we can live with. I highly recommend this novel for anyone who wants to be taken on a journey. Allesandra Torre will take you there.
April 9, 2018
Authenticity, an Open Book
Phyllis H. Moore
I went to Atlanta last weekend to help my friend, Mark David Gibson, launch his memoir, Served in Silence. It’s a riveting coming of age story. Mark’s message encourages readers to embrace their authentic selves. He has been able to give us the inside story on what happens when we are stifled and unable to be who we truly are, afraid of what will happen if others know our truth. It takes courage to tell this story, but Mark does it, acknowledging the roles of others along the way.
There are parallels between Mark’s real life story and my character, Birdie Barnes, in Birdie and Jude. Birdie is hesitant to reveal her true self. She has lived a life unfulfilled because of the expectations of others—expectations she couldn’t meet. There is a tradition in her family for females tied closely to their social status in the community. However, Birdie is embarrassed by their prestige. In the late 1960’s, at a time of protests and civil disobedience, Birdie is drawn to use her voice to demonstrate for the causes of others not her own. To tell the truth about herself isn’t an option, or not one Birdie has the courage to undertake.
Birdie’s friend, Henry, is her only safety. She can be herself with Henry. He attempts to get Birdie to spread her wings and challenges her to swallow her stubborn notions and meet her family halfway, but Birdie doesn’t have my friend, Mark’s, willingness to please. She tends to run when confronted by her family, never communicating her real turmoil.
It’s not until Birdie has reached her golden years that she meets Jude, a young woman with her own secrets. Their friendship develops in a surreal fashion reminiscent of Alice Hoffman and Sarah Addison Allen. Birdie has an enlightening experience, reliving her past confusion, but also recognizing the time she wasted. There is a hush and recognition. One reviewer wrote: “Excellent characterization. I felt like I absolutely knew these two fascinating ladies. The theory that souls can return as new friends was very awe-inspiring - I really loved that!”
Writing this novel led me to the realization that we really are given many chances to make the right choices and discover our authentic selves. The truth is if we are not always present, we miss opportunities. Those opportunities will cycle around to us again, but in another form and may come to us in a setting and time when we’re ready to accept them. Another reviewer wrote: “Before you judge anyone, contemplate this: “...everyone filters their experiences through their own history. Whatever shapes a person, may never be known by anyone else.’ - from the book. Get ready to experience this story with your own filters. A must read!”
I hope readers will take this piece of fiction and apply it to their own lives, and it can be just as inspiring as Mark’s memoir. I think there was a reason we met on a cool spring evening at the Silver Dollar Ranch and talked well into the evening. He’s my Jude.
I went to Atlanta last weekend to help my friend, Mark David Gibson, launch his memoir, Served in Silence. It’s a riveting coming of age story. Mark’s message encourages readers to embrace their authentic selves. He has been able to give us the inside story on what happens when we are stifled and unable to be who we truly are, afraid of what will happen if others know our truth. It takes courage to tell this story, but Mark does it, acknowledging the roles of others along the way.
There are parallels between Mark’s real life story and my character, Birdie Barnes, in Birdie and Jude. Birdie is hesitant to reveal her true self. She has lived a life unfulfilled because of the expectations of others—expectations she couldn’t meet. There is a tradition in her family for females tied closely to their social status in the community. However, Birdie is embarrassed by their prestige. In the late 1960’s, at a time of protests and civil disobedience, Birdie is drawn to use her voice to demonstrate for the causes of others not her own. To tell the truth about herself isn’t an option, or not one Birdie has the courage to undertake.
Birdie’s friend, Henry, is her only safety. She can be herself with Henry. He attempts to get Birdie to spread her wings and challenges her to swallow her stubborn notions and meet her family halfway, but Birdie doesn’t have my friend, Mark’s, willingness to please. She tends to run when confronted by her family, never communicating her real turmoil.
It’s not until Birdie has reached her golden years that she meets Jude, a young woman with her own secrets. Their friendship develops in a surreal fashion reminiscent of Alice Hoffman and Sarah Addison Allen. Birdie has an enlightening experience, reliving her past confusion, but also recognizing the time she wasted. There is a hush and recognition. One reviewer wrote: “Excellent characterization. I felt like I absolutely knew these two fascinating ladies. The theory that souls can return as new friends was very awe-inspiring - I really loved that!”
Writing this novel led me to the realization that we really are given many chances to make the right choices and discover our authentic selves. The truth is if we are not always present, we miss opportunities. Those opportunities will cycle around to us again, but in another form and may come to us in a setting and time when we’re ready to accept them. Another reviewer wrote: “Before you judge anyone, contemplate this: “...everyone filters their experiences through their own history. Whatever shapes a person, may never be known by anyone else.’ - from the book. Get ready to experience this story with your own filters. A must read!”
I hope readers will take this piece of fiction and apply it to their own lives, and it can be just as inspiring as Mark’s memoir. I think there was a reason we met on a cool spring evening at the Silver Dollar Ranch and talked well into the evening. He’s my Jude.
February 10, 2018
Birdie & Jude Coming, Spring, 2018
It could have been a coincidence or maybe fate, but it certainly was serendipitous that Birdie Barnes found Judith Reynolds on the beach during her morning walk. Bothered by the sameness in her life and the loss of the passion she felt in her youth, Birdie had been restless and nostalgic.
Jude had just been sidelined from the biggest milestone in her life. A product of a family tragedy forcing her and her siblings into foster care, Jude grew up in several homes, none of which she could call her own. However, she and a friend had just earned their graduate degrees and were on their way to backpack in Europe.
An unlikely pair, Birdie and Jude weather a hurricane together and form a quirky friendship that dances around their secrets. They reflect each other in their insecurities. But Birdie notices something in Jude that is startling and familiar. It could be the very thing she has been mourning. The soul she lost long ago.
Birdie’s story begins with her childhood in the early ‘50’s, a time of safety and familiarity in a close-knit neighborhood. Expectations were clear and there was no room for a child in an upper-middle class family to deviate from the norm. Knowing what was normal was easy. Birdie’s problem was there was nothing normal about her, forcing her to align herself with others like herself. However, that alliance didn’t sit well with her socially adept family. She sought out others who could validate her authentic self. Those others couldn't attend the Mardis Gras falls and their friend ship was dangerous, not to Birdie, but to themselves.
Jude meets Birdie just as she thought she might be reaching the most exciting milestone in her life, a chance to spread her wings and put her life of foster care behind her. A tragedy she never fathomed, derails all her plans and lands her in a home, again not her own. However, this time, the woman in charge knows something about being different.
In a twist of emotions forcing each woman to step into their past to look toward their futures, this novel explores self-discovery and the lies we tell ourselves to fit in. It’s confirmation that spirit never leaves us and the soul we are is constantly and forever evolving. It’s Alice Hoffman meets Sarah Addison Allen and Debbie Macomber on Galveston Island. http://www.phyllishmoore.com
Phyllis H. Moore
Jude had just been sidelined from the biggest milestone in her life. A product of a family tragedy forcing her and her siblings into foster care, Jude grew up in several homes, none of which she could call her own. However, she and a friend had just earned their graduate degrees and were on their way to backpack in Europe.
An unlikely pair, Birdie and Jude weather a hurricane together and form a quirky friendship that dances around their secrets. They reflect each other in their insecurities. But Birdie notices something in Jude that is startling and familiar. It could be the very thing she has been mourning. The soul she lost long ago.
Birdie’s story begins with her childhood in the early ‘50’s, a time of safety and familiarity in a close-knit neighborhood. Expectations were clear and there was no room for a child in an upper-middle class family to deviate from the norm. Knowing what was normal was easy. Birdie’s problem was there was nothing normal about her, forcing her to align herself with others like herself. However, that alliance didn’t sit well with her socially adept family. She sought out others who could validate her authentic self. Those others couldn't attend the Mardis Gras falls and their friend ship was dangerous, not to Birdie, but to themselves.
Jude meets Birdie just as she thought she might be reaching the most exciting milestone in her life, a chance to spread her wings and put her life of foster care behind her. A tragedy she never fathomed, derails all her plans and lands her in a home, again not her own. However, this time, the woman in charge knows something about being different.
In a twist of emotions forcing each woman to step into their past to look toward their futures, this novel explores self-discovery and the lies we tell ourselves to fit in. It’s confirmation that spirit never leaves us and the soul we are is constantly and forever evolving. It’s Alice Hoffman meets Sarah Addison Allen and Debbie Macomber on Galveston Island. http://www.phyllishmoore.com
Phyllis H. Moore
April 25, 2016
Tangled Mangled, Roxanne and Making Gravy
As an author, I am not supposed to respond to reviews. I don’t want to, really. I’m new at this, and I’m willing to be a beginner and take some advice, incorporate what I can and try to do better. However, I feel the need to say something about my novel, Tangled, a Southern Gothic Yarn. It was edited by an editor who gave me great advice. I think her advice made the story better. However, I totally messed up the upload of the manuscript and it was mangled when many readers downloaded to their Kindles. It’s all my fault. I own it. It was not the editing. It was all me.
I could make excuses about why this happened, but they would be pitiful and no one wants to hear it. There is no excuse that could justify releasing a sloppy ebook. I would think the same thing as the reader. I botched a wonderful opportunity to do a promotion that all authors covet. I moaned, groaned and wallowed in my incompetence for several hours, then attempted the fix and waited for the backlash. Here is the irony, readers were much more forgiving than me. My reviews to date, have more than doubled, and they are much more positive than I expected. Many of the reviews are five star – lauding the wonderful story and characters, but hating the editing. My editing was atrocious, however, trust me the editor did her job – not her fault – ALL MINE.
I mangled the debut of Tangled. Roxanne, a reader, took the time to go to my web site’s contact page and send me a message about how much she enjoyed the story “but there is a big problem”, she wrote. My heart sank as I read there was duplicate print at the end of many chapters. Roxanne is my angel. She was complimentary and gentle and I felt terrible that the reading experience wasn’t perfect for her. It doesn’t matter that it was a free download. Roxanne and every reader deserves the best and that version of my novel was not my best. This was the worst nightmare I could imagine. There were over 40,000 downloads. My opportunity to get someone to read my novel, and it was botched.
What do you say to yourself with such a snafu? I tried to remember, “If it doesn’t kill you, it makes you stronger.” Okay, I’m pretty sure whoever said that is dead.
Last night I had a dream about making gravy. Yeah, I know, it probably signifies some weird, deviant confusion, but I thought it had to do with making lemonade from lemons or something.
I learned to make gravy in the late sixties – probably, I really can’t remember. It may have been earlier, because I remember my parents were painting the bathroom in our little oil field camp house. It was my chance to cook supper – pork chops, mashed potatoes, green beans and gravy. The pork chops were tough, the potatoes were lumpy and the gravy had clumps of white flour floating in it. In my dream, I made roast beef gravy. I started making it in the roasting pan, but by the time I was finished, I was stirring the most perfectly seasoned, silky, brown gravy you could imagine, in the bed of an old pick-up truck. Yeah, I know, I was awed by the abundance, too. However, I was not the least bit concerned that it was in the back of a pick-up truck.
When I woke, I thought the dream was strange, but I decided it was my subconscious telling me to give myself permission to be a beginner – take the compliments, learn from the mistakes and move on.
So, I’m sharing this story, not to make any excuses, but to say it’s all my fault, not the editor’s. I own it and will remind myself daily to learn from it. I would also like to let anyone who could not muddle through the repetition, to contact me via my web site, http://www.phyllishmoore.com and let me know you would like a cleaner version. I will email you a PDF, an ARC (Advanced Review Copy) of an upcoming anthology, or any of my other books. Please don’t give up on me. I thought about giving up myself, telling myself I’m too old to go through this, but I like to do it, so will continue until I cannot.
To other writers, I would like to say, I know how anxiety provoking it is to put yourself out there – share your writing with others to find out if they love it, hate it, or are indifferent. Keep making the gravy. Do it until it’s silky and smooth. Sometimes, people can pick through the lumps, smile at you, and give you another chance. If not, it won’t kill you, not yet anyway.
I still hold my breath when I sign on to look at reviews. I expect a tongue lashing. I received one for cursing and one for being confused about the genre, but some readers were willing to make their way through and say they enjoyed the story. So, here are the things I have learned in this painful process:
1. I can still learn, take criticism and try to do better
2.People are much more forgiving than I anticipated.
3.If I continue to be the author and publisher, I must pay equal attention to both tasks, not just the one that I like to do.
4.Even if I’m reading a five star review, that doesn’t mean the book was perfect. Reviewers lie. They don’t want to hurt my feelings. It wasn’t that great and there is still work to do.
5.I am responsible for the finished product. No one else. It’s mine good or bad. I have to own it.
I could make excuses about why this happened, but they would be pitiful and no one wants to hear it. There is no excuse that could justify releasing a sloppy ebook. I would think the same thing as the reader. I botched a wonderful opportunity to do a promotion that all authors covet. I moaned, groaned and wallowed in my incompetence for several hours, then attempted the fix and waited for the backlash. Here is the irony, readers were much more forgiving than me. My reviews to date, have more than doubled, and they are much more positive than I expected. Many of the reviews are five star – lauding the wonderful story and characters, but hating the editing. My editing was atrocious, however, trust me the editor did her job – not her fault – ALL MINE.
I mangled the debut of Tangled. Roxanne, a reader, took the time to go to my web site’s contact page and send me a message about how much she enjoyed the story “but there is a big problem”, she wrote. My heart sank as I read there was duplicate print at the end of many chapters. Roxanne is my angel. She was complimentary and gentle and I felt terrible that the reading experience wasn’t perfect for her. It doesn’t matter that it was a free download. Roxanne and every reader deserves the best and that version of my novel was not my best. This was the worst nightmare I could imagine. There were over 40,000 downloads. My opportunity to get someone to read my novel, and it was botched.
What do you say to yourself with such a snafu? I tried to remember, “If it doesn’t kill you, it makes you stronger.” Okay, I’m pretty sure whoever said that is dead.
Last night I had a dream about making gravy. Yeah, I know, it probably signifies some weird, deviant confusion, but I thought it had to do with making lemonade from lemons or something.
I learned to make gravy in the late sixties – probably, I really can’t remember. It may have been earlier, because I remember my parents were painting the bathroom in our little oil field camp house. It was my chance to cook supper – pork chops, mashed potatoes, green beans and gravy. The pork chops were tough, the potatoes were lumpy and the gravy had clumps of white flour floating in it. In my dream, I made roast beef gravy. I started making it in the roasting pan, but by the time I was finished, I was stirring the most perfectly seasoned, silky, brown gravy you could imagine, in the bed of an old pick-up truck. Yeah, I know, I was awed by the abundance, too. However, I was not the least bit concerned that it was in the back of a pick-up truck.
When I woke, I thought the dream was strange, but I decided it was my subconscious telling me to give myself permission to be a beginner – take the compliments, learn from the mistakes and move on.
So, I’m sharing this story, not to make any excuses, but to say it’s all my fault, not the editor’s. I own it and will remind myself daily to learn from it. I would also like to let anyone who could not muddle through the repetition, to contact me via my web site, http://www.phyllishmoore.com and let me know you would like a cleaner version. I will email you a PDF, an ARC (Advanced Review Copy) of an upcoming anthology, or any of my other books. Please don’t give up on me. I thought about giving up myself, telling myself I’m too old to go through this, but I like to do it, so will continue until I cannot.
To other writers, I would like to say, I know how anxiety provoking it is to put yourself out there – share your writing with others to find out if they love it, hate it, or are indifferent. Keep making the gravy. Do it until it’s silky and smooth. Sometimes, people can pick through the lumps, smile at you, and give you another chance. If not, it won’t kill you, not yet anyway.
I still hold my breath when I sign on to look at reviews. I expect a tongue lashing. I received one for cursing and one for being confused about the genre, but some readers were willing to make their way through and say they enjoyed the story. So, here are the things I have learned in this painful process:
1. I can still learn, take criticism and try to do better
2.People are much more forgiving than I anticipated.
3.If I continue to be the author and publisher, I must pay equal attention to both tasks, not just the one that I like to do.
4.Even if I’m reading a five star review, that doesn’t mean the book was perfect. Reviewers lie. They don’t want to hurt my feelings. It wasn’t that great and there is still work to do.
5.I am responsible for the finished product. No one else. It’s mine good or bad. I have to own it.
December 6, 2015
We Are All Connected
I chatted with the checker at the grocery store. It was my second time in the store that day. It wasn’t a store where I normally shopped. We were staying with my son and we would be having Thanksgiving dinner at my daughter’s home. Her husband would fry a turkey. My assignment was to bring a pie and dressing, potatoes and a vegetable. I was a little harried, thinking about the things I needed to gather in a kitchen I did not normally use. I was distracted by not knowing the aisles of the
December 5, 2015
A Gift For You, Mrs. Emily's Sugar Cookie Recipe, Merry Christmas
My son, Phillip, has a fovorite cookie, sugar cookies. He's a grown man and he still prefers sugar cookies and vanilla ice cream. However, he is particular about his sugar cookies. This recipe I will share with you is Phillip's favorite. I like it because there is no rolling and cutting. You roll the dough into balls and flatten with whatever you have handy to do such a thing, like the flat bottom of a glass. They are wonderful plain or with a little icing for decoration. This is the cookie I
November 20, 2015
Seven Reason's To Be Thankful, Opal's Story
Opal Evans experienced an unthinkable tragedy in her early twenties, changing her forever. Her experience also changed the lives of her immediate family. This novel takes place in 2008, but revisits the Evans family in 1948. Facing terminal illness and a disappointing prognosis. Opal is forced to consider the state of her spirit and her need for forgiveness. She examines her life lessons and the angels she failed to see along the way at what could be her final Thanksgiving. At the end of a
November 19, 2015
Thoughts on Paris and the World
I belong to several writer's groups on Facebook. They are struggling with the events in Paris as everyone is. I have to say there is more careful thought about the words they share. I understand the anger and frustration. Matthew invited us to share our thoughts on a blog, quoting Flannery O'Connor. I cannot recall the exact wording, but the idea was, I don't know what I think until I read what I said. That explains most writers. Here is what I shared with my writer's group: You had me at
November 4, 2015
My Characters Have Pets
I read through some of the short stories I have written to compile an anthology for publication. I noticed almost all of my protagonists have dogs. There are a few cats sprinkled in them, but mostly dogs. When I visualize a dog, I see my dog, Ollie Bubba. I happen to know he likes his name because we had to have an intervention with him and the pet psychic told me it "tickles" him. Well, there isn't much that tickles Ollie Bubba, so I'm glad he likes his name. Here's the thing. I have
