Sharon Kirk Clifton, Writer and Raconteur

I Just Like This and Wanted to Share

2012-01-27T12:23:00.000-06:00

FRIDAY'S FIND

2012-01-27T11:40:00.000-06:00

How did I find "The Find"? My daughter, a rabid pinner, told me about it.

My reaction to "The Find"? Have mercy! It's addictive and requires self-control. It's a social network, cookbook, image research tool, and an online scrapbook rolled into one handy site. As a writer, I use it in many ways. It helps me get to know my favorite scribes better, certainly, but it also provides a place for me to find and store images that inspire my writing. It's good medicine to help ward off a deadly case of writer's block, because I can always find something to write about. On my page, the "boards" that relate most closely to my writing are "Books and Brew Bistro," "Writer's Inspiration," "Evocative Images," "Faces and Folks," "Brushstrokes," and "Galleria Fantasia." Pinners create and name their own boards. It's great fun.

Your turn. Do you have a Pinterest site? How do you use it? What do you like best about it? If you're a writer, what special applications do you use? Please share in "Comments."

Write on!

Because of Christ,

Sharon

FRIDAY'S FIND

2012-01-21T09:40:00.000-06:00

(In the interest of full disclosure, I must confess that I may not have actually found "Friday's Find" feature on a Friday.)

The Find: Tammie Edington Shaw--Letters Across the Page, "Splickety: A New Magazine"; Friday, January 20.

How did I find the find? Shaw, a fellow member of ACFW's 19th Century Writers email loop, announced her interview with Splickety's executive editor, Ben Erlichman.

My reaction to the find? Though the main purpose of the article is to announce the inaugural issue of Splickety, a publication in both print and digital formats that specializes in flash fiction, three other magazines, also imprints of Written World Communications, are listed: Harpstring (Christian fiction); Other Sheep (Christian speculative fiction); and Starsongs (fiction for kids by kids). I'm always thrilled to hear about new potential writing markets.
The first issue of Splickety features a story by Brandilyn Collins. According to Shaw's article, each issue will feature a well-known author, but Erlichman also welcomes submissions from lesser-known and new writers. I see it as an opportunity to become more familiar with the work of several writers. I also might submit a short, short story of my own occasionally.

Write on!
Because of Christ

Postscript: Yes, yes, I know. Technically this is a "Saturday Find." Sorry.

FRIDAY'S FIND

2012-01-13T17:15:00.000-06:00

(In the interest of full disclosure, I must confess that I may not have actually found "Friday's Find" feature on a Friday.)

The Find: Kaye Dacus--Humor, Hope, and Happily Ever Afters, "Internal Dialogue," Saturday, Nov. 17, 2007.

How did I find the find? I went looking for it.

My reaction to the find? One of my critique partners raised the question about proper style for deep third-person POV. Since it seemed to me there is a difference between internal monologue and deep third, I searched for other perspectives. Ultimately, it may be a matter of personal and editorial style, but I liked what Kaye had to say.

Your turn. Where do you stand on the issue? If you're agented or published, what stance does your agent or editor take. Please weigh in with a comment. I'm eager to hear.

Write on!
Because of Christ,
Sharon

FRIDAY'S FIND

2012-01-06T00:15:00.003-06:00

(In the interest of full disclosure, I must confess that I may not have actually found "Friday's Find" feature on a Friday.)

The Find: "The Best of Daily Writing Tips in 2011."

How did I find the find? I subscribe to "Daily Writing Tips" e-letter.

My reaction to the find? Many of the articles chosen were ones that had caught my attention first time through my inbox, some of which I didn't get time to read. They are pertinent to writing both fiction and non-fiction. I also thought it worthwhile to call the site to the attention to other writers who might not be aware of it.

Your turn. Have you discovered a particularly good site you'd be willing to share with others? Please comment and leave a link. Thank you!

Write on!
Because of Christ,
Sharon

FRIDAY'S FIND

2011-12-30T00:15:00.051-06:00

(In the interest of full disclosure, I must confess that I may not have actually found "Friday's Find" feature on a Friday. In fact, I may have stumbled on it last Saturday morning while listening to "Car Talk" on NPR. Or Tuesday at 2 a.m. while my "Liar's Bench" CD played through headphones. However it came to my attention, I felt it worthy of bringing it to yours, Gentle Reader.)

The Find: "Cecil Murphey's Writer to Writer"

How did I find the find? Diana Flegal, agent with Hartline Literary, made reference to him in her blog post for December 28.

My reaction to the find? I added Murphey's blogsite to my list of favorites on this page. He's in the teens of a 50-part series of posts he calls "Common Problems." I like his common sense approach. For the experienced writer, he gives reminders. The novice writer can learn much from this series. I look forward to reading his new book, Unleash the Writer Within.

Two Constants

2011-12-28T11:43:00.000-06:00

]

Two constants exist. One is change. People. Politics. Circumstances. Geography. Writing conventions. Word meanings. They all change like the clouds in an Indiana sky.

At my age, I should be used to change, I suppose. I should take it in stride. I've certainly seen enough of it. "Of such is life," I should say. Fact is I don't accept change easily.

Therefore, when the email arrived announcing that our ACFW Scribes small critique group had been disbanded, I was sad. It didn't come as a surprise. Some members now have agents and/or contracts, and their critique needs have changed. While I celebrate the victories in the lives of my fellow Scribes, I will miss the camaraderie, the tough critiques, the prayers and encouragement we shared.

This year brought other changes, also. I attended two Writer's Digest webinars and the Indianapolis Christian Writers Conference. I also finished the first draft of my second middle-grade novel. Even as I revise that work, I'm writing a third MG and researching for a historical novel set in southern Indiana (using a pseudonym).

What changes will 2012 bring? That's not for us to know.

Which brings me to the second constant: God, our immutable Sovereign. Isn't it a comfort to know that whatever the new year holds, He Who said, "I Am that I Am," already is there. What security! What peace!

New Year's Resolutions--
Resolved: I will write, as the Lord enables and leads.
Resolved: I will submit to select agents and publishing houses.
Resolved: I will wait upon the Lord to work His will in my life and career, acknowledging Him as my Supreme Agent.

Your Turn!
What changes occurred in your life this year that affected your writing? What do you anticipate for 2012? What resolutions have you made relating to your writing? Please leave a comment.

The Dark Streets Shineth

2011-12-15T08:37:00.000-06:00

When I was a child, the streets of New Castle, Indiana--my home town--became magic at Christmas time. "Hark the Herald Angels Sing" and "I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas" blared from bell-shaped speakers mounted atop some of the buildings. Shop windows sparkled with colored lights and tempting displays. Wide-eyed children pressed their noses against the window glass to get a closer view of the Terri Lee dolls, Lionel train sets, and mechanized elves. Other tots stood with their parents in the long queue to get inside the cramped little Santa Claus house on the courthouse lawn.

The stores extended their hours from Thanksgiving to Christmas, so the town streets bustled with shoppers in the evening, laughing and greeting friends. Uniformed Salvation Army workers, backs turned to the wind and collars flipped up, rang their silver bells at every intersection.

Since we lived in the Jennings Building, up over McShurley's Shoe Store and The Coffee Shop, I spent a lot of time wandering the stores and the downtown streets, drinking in the sights and sounds of the season like a mug of hot cocoa. Sometimes Mama would give me a quarter and a nickel so I could visit the candy counter at Murphy's dimestore. I would get a quarter's worth of French creme candy, available only at Christmas time, and five-cents' worth of warm Spanish peanuts, my favorite. With those two bags in my hand, I felt like a big spender.

I loved it. The busyness. The music, tinny though it was. The laughter. The candy. The lights. They all contributed to the magic.

But snow lent the real magic. As the air began to fill with large, cold, wet feathery flakes, I would turn down a side street, walk a block or so, and stand under one of the antiquated street lamps. Looking up into its aura, I watched the snow dance in the light. Softly, so that none could hear me save the lamp and the descending snow, I sang along with music from the speakers: "O, little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie. Above thy deep and dreamless sleep the silent stars go by. Yet in thy dark streets shineth the Everlasting Light. The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight." Amen.

Dear reader, would you be so kind as to leave one of your own Christmas reflections as a comment? I'd love to hear it.

Santa Claus and Me

2011-12-13T10:12:00.000-06:00

I never really believed in Santa Claus, but I loved the idea of that jolly old elf. Since we lived in the heart of our small central Indiana town, my path to and from school took me past the courthouse where a wee "Santa Cottage" stood between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Santa, assisted by "Mary Christmas," held court there.

Each afternoon a long queue of children and parents wended down the sidewalk and curled around the corner. Several times each year, I would step to the end of that line and go through. Santa probably wondered why I squinted at him, but I was trying to see the man beyond his disguise. I played the game and give him my wish list, and then Mary Christmas handed me a whistle sucker, all the while giving me that "Haven't you been here a few other times this year?" look. The sucker was what I really wanted.

The Santa in the shack did not sound at all like the Santa on WCTW. The latter's voice was deep and jolly. He seemed genuinely interested in the children who called in their requests. Years later, that radio Santa became the publisher of a local weekly. He gave me my first writing job. He paid me to do what I loved. Imagine that! Merry Christmas!

Write on!

Because of Christ,
Sharon

Christmas Center Stage

2011-12-06T17:52:00.000-06:00

I love the pageantry of Christmas. Cantatas, children's plays and musicals, young adults' dramas, "specials," live nativities, and caroling. I think much should be made of the coming of Incarnate God into the flesh of humanity. The birth of the King of kings is monumental, after all. It changed all of history. The entire Bible--Old and New Testaments--points to the 33 years on Earth of the Christ, the eternal Son of God: His birth, life, death, triumphant resurrection, and imminent return.

At church whole families are involved from September until show time in preparations. The walls of the church building resound with music proclaiming the birth of the Newborn King for three months. It is a busy, cheerful time as choirs rehearse, actors learn lines and blocking, children repeat their parts until they say them in their sleep, fathers build simple sets, and mothers sew or alter costumes.

Hearts pound, tummies quiver, and knees knock as presentation time closes in. The scent of candle wax and fresh evergreens waft on the air. Grandparents arrive early to vie for choice seats, the ones providing the best camera shots. Pews fill to capacity, and ushers scurry around setting up folding chairs.

The sanctuary lights dim. The music begins. The chattering audience, filled with electric expectancy, falls silent as the program participants march in.

Then it's over. All that's left to do is to dismantle the sets, fold away the costumes, file the music, store the ornaments, and vacuum the carpet. But for three glorious months the lives of the church family revolved around that monumental moment 2,000 years ago when God became man in the form of a wee babe, born in a borrowed stable to a peasant virgin and laid in a common manger. Therein lies the true pageantry of Christmas.

[First posted December 2009]

Write on!

Because of Christ,

Sharon

Mary Kole on Revision

2011-11-28T11:15:00.002-06:00

As I began the revision process for my second middle-grade novel, I went hunting for advice on select agents' and editors' blogs. Mary Kole, associate agent with Andrea Brown Literary. Kole writes really good stuff on her kidlit.com blog site, including "Some Thoughts on Revision." You're not revising right now? You will, so I advise you to file this one away.

A Blessed Thanksgiving to You!

2011-11-24T04:43:00.002-06:00

I hope your day is full of the blessings of faith, family, festivities, fabulous fare, and fun. Know that you, gentle readers, are among the many things for which I thank the Lord. God bless you as you seek to worship Him with the gifts He has granted you. May your travel be safe, also.

Write on!
Because of Christ,
Sharon

The Joy of Revision

2011-11-19T16:20:00.001-06:00

The first draft is done. It's rough. It's supposed to be. It sits at sixty-three thousand words and 264 pages. Slogging through all those blank sheets of paper was the hard part.

I sit here rubbing my hands together at the prospect of the next step: revision. The framework is there. Now for the nuances, the character idiosyncrasies, the deepening of POV, the tears, the giggles, the snorts--the layers that breathe life into the story. Revision!

A "Must Read" by Andy Scheer

2011-11-11T17:28:00.001-06:00

Andy Scheer is an agent with the Hartline Agency, and he was a presenter/consultant at the Indianapolis Christian Writers Conference. His blog entry "Eliminate Overused Words," on Hartline's "From the Heart" site, is essential reading for all serious writers, fiction or non-fiction. It's his response to a hint given at the conference by keynoter Angela Hunt. Do read it!

Write on!
Because of Christ,
Sharon

Postscript: BTW, "From the Heart" is one of my tip-top favorite blog sites. I visit it regularly. You might want to bookmark it.

Looking at the Stats

2011-11-08T08:00:00.001-06:00

Right now, someone in India is reading this blog. That just blows my mind. In fact, when I click on the "Stats" button from my Blogger dashboard and hit "Audience," I see that readers live in the United States, Canada, the United Kingdom, Georgia (the country, not the state, though I hope folks from our great southern state visit, too), Armenia, Azerbaijan, India, Pakistan, Nepal, Latvia, Indonesia, Japan, South Korea, China, the Netherlands, France, Germany, Russia, the Philippians, and New Zealand. The internet, especially the social networking sites, makes the world seem smaller. I'll not get to visit most of those nations, but I can connect at some level through Blogger, Twitter, or Facebook--the three I use most commonly.

How should one react to that information? As a writer, it sets me to wondering about you, dear reader. What is your life like? What are your sorrows? Your joys? What drew you to this blog? Are you drinking tea as you read? Are you a writer, too? Are you an avid reader? What do you like to read? How difficult is it for you to get to a computer and browse online? For some, it's quite a challenge, as they may have to pay for the privilege. Often the connections are so poor that it's difficult to stay online. Having a sense of audience also imbues this writer with a responsibility to write well on interesting topics and to do so regularly. (I need to improve on that score.)

I do not take lightly the fact that you read this blog. This month we in the U.S. celebrate Thanksgiving, a day when we remember our forefathers who set aside a time to thank God for helping them to survive the hardships of a new land, for providing for them. It's a season that reminds us to be ever thankful for His provision. I thank Him for you, gentle reader, and hope that you'll stop by often.

I would love to hear from you. Feel free to leave a comment or send a message. By clicking to "Follow" this blog, you can receive notice of new posts.

If you are a writer, then . . .

Write on!
Because of Christ,
Sharon

The Best Little Conference You Never Heard Of

2011-11-07T14:24:00.001-06:00

Ever heard of the Indianapolis Christian Writers Conference? I hadn't until a couple years ago when I stumbled on its website. God made it possible for me to be there this weekend, and I highly recommend it.

One hundred seventy-four writers from seventeen states and Canada gathered at the Wesleyan Church World Headquarters on the north side of Indy to hone their craft, fellowship and worship with other writers, and meet in one-on-one consultations with a cadre of professionals--literary agents, editors, and established writers.

Best-selling author Angela Hunt (above), whose books have won the coveted Christy award, along with several other honors, was the keynote speaker. Her experience in writing everything from children's picture books to non-fiction and adult novels equipped her to encourage and inspire writers, no matter where they were on their journey.

She equated writing to constructing a building. Both the builder and the writer need the correct tools, and both need to work hard. With the "write" tools, one can build "words, sentences, even books."

I loved Hunt's style. She was natural, intimate, and professional all at the same time. She interacted easily with her audience and kept us smiling--sometimes giggling--while conveying serious points. And she wasn't afraid to chase a rabbit or two, if they happened to cross her path.

I wish I could have attended all the sessions, but that just isn't possible. I was twice blessed to hear Les Strobbe (left), whose credentials would fill this blog space. Saturday's topic was "Are Agents Really Necessary?" Since he is one, he was qualified to address the subject. I expected him to say, "Absolutely!" He did, going into detail about the value and responsibilities of an agent. He also discussed how one should go about seeking an agent, not necessarily accepting the first one to show interest in one's work.

On Saturday Strobbe's topic was "Expanding Your Ministry through Writing." He urged attendees to examine their own areas of expertise and experience. How might we use our experience to minister to the Body of Christ or to reach others for Him? It was a thought-provoking session.

James Watkins (right), award-winning author of sixteen books and over 2,000 articles--and a great stand-up comedian, I might add--did a serious workshop on how to be humorous in our writing. First, he explained the value of humor as an attention getter and a teaching tool, and then he listed and defined the various types of humor. We laughed and learned.

Shannon Marchese (left), senior editor of fiction for WaterBrook Multnomah Publishing Group (a division of Random House), warned writers about "Speed Bumps in Fiction Writing." She gave us a handout that I intend to keep close by to review from time to time. Most of the ideas listed were familiar to me, but then I've studied my craft for a long time. We never finish learning to write well.

She warned against such things as:

Cheesy foreshadowing, when writers use cutesy devices which give the plot away (such as a boat named "incommunicado" when the problem in the marriage is poor communication);

Deus ex machina, endings that smack of the hand of God reaching down to suddenly right everything or endings that have a new unknown character suddenly appear as the cause of all the woes;

Flat characters--bad characters being over-the-top bad and good characters being too good, because both types are equally unbelievable and unlikeable;

Purple prose or overwriting;

Poor research, even in contemporary novels. "Know your cow-birthing scenes."

I entered the room for Andy Scheer's session "Is Your Manuscript Ready To Edit" feeling a bit sad, knowing it was the last session of the conference for this year. Scheer's upbeat style soon lightened my mood. As was the case with most of the presenters I heard, the sixty minutes allowed each session was not nearly enough to cover all he or she intended. Scheer could have used twice that.

He broke down the various aspects of our writing and explained how we could self-evaluate manuscripts, addressing issues related to both fiction and non-fiction. I liked what he said about point of view, suggesting that writers consider how a scene would change if related from a different character's POV.

Todd Burpo, minister and author of the best-selling book Heaven Is for Real, also spoke. From the impassioned way he addressed his audience, it was clear he believed the account he gave.

Now you know about the Indianapolis Christian Writers Conference. The 11th annual conference is slated for the first weekend in November 2012. Mark your calendars to attend. Will I see you there?

Postscript:
Would you be so kind as to click to "Follow" this page? That means a lot to writers. Thanks much!

Write on!
Sharon

NaNoWriMo Starts TOMORROW!

2011-10-31T10:07:00.001-05:00

Today is Monday, 31 October. So what? Tomorrow is Tuesday, 1 November. If you're a fiction writer, that means something.

November 1 kicks off National Novel Writing Month. For those scribes who participate in NaNoWriMo--a competition that pits the writer against herself and the calendar--it means writing through blocks, persistent ringing telephones (leave a message, for crying out loud!), stomach cramps, raging fevers, the Black Death, hunger pangs, super sales at Kohl's, birthdays (you'll get a stinkin' "belated greetings" card on 3 December, okay?), baths (which cuts down considerably on folks' dropping by to chat), dogs clawing and whining at the kitchen door, and firemen using a battering ram to break down the front door. It's not that the writer isn't concerned about his house burning. He cares. He just doesn't notice. He's in the moment, immersed in the story.

Fifty thousand words in 30 days: that's the goal. That's pressure. So don't pop in with a casserole. Don't call. Don't send email. Don't die. At least not until 1 December.

Happy NaNoWriMo, writers!

SOUPer Simple Comfort Food for Writers

2011-10-28T13:23:00.001-05:00

In the 2009 film Nim's Island, Jody Foster plays an agoraphobic writer of middle-grade adventure novels whose diet consists of Progresso soup. She has it delivered to her door. I suppose as canned soups go, Progresso is as good as any, but nothing beats a bowl of steaming homemade soup on a crisp autumn day.

Since my writer's den can be on the airish side, I'm often huddled over my keyboard cocooned in a brown crocheted shawl with a mug of hot tea to my right and an earthenware bowl of soup at my left elbow.

To help you gear up for winter writing, I'm posting soup recipes that call for no more than four ingredients (excluding salt and pepper). Delicious doesn't have to be complex.

Amish Beef Rivvel Soup

1-1/2 to 2 pounds of beef (use chuck, round, or stew beef); cook in water until tender (I use a pressure cooker). If using a solid cut of meat, dice it up in bite-size pieces or pull it.

Rivvel:

3 large eggs, beaten well. Add salt and pepper as you would if you were going to fry them. Stir in as much unbleached flour as possible. (I begin with a fork, but switch to two knives to cut in more flour.) Continue adding flour and cutting it in until most of the dough is the consistency of navy beans.

Bring the beef broth to a boil and, while stirring constantly, drizzle the rivvel into the boiling broth by the handful. If you don't need all the rivvel, seal the remainder in a zipper bag and store in the freezer, to go in another soup later on. Once you've added as much rivvel as you need, turn the heat down to low. Salt and pepper to taste. Simmer until the rivvel is done, as you would any other pasta. This soup goes well with crusty bread and a salad.

Beef Barley Soup

Cook 1-1/2 to 2 pounds of beef, cooked as for Beef Rivvel Soup above.

Rinse 1/2 pound pearl barley well. Add to boiling beef broth. Reduce heat to medium. Cook until barley is tender, about 20 minutes. Salt and pepper to taste. This soup also goes well with crusty bread and a salad.

Kickin' Tomato Soup

1 can tomato soup

1 can Ro-tel diced tomatoes and green chilies (I prefer mild, but suit yourself.)

Mix together in a heavy saucepan and heat. Serve topped with toasted home-made seasoned croutons and a generous dollop of sour cream.

Okay. Okay. The next recipe uses two times four ingredients, but if you make it, I think you'll agree it's worth the effort. Enjoy!

Fried Potato, Bacon, Corn Chowder

8 slices bacon, cut into 1" pieces

2 cups cubed potatoes

1 cup chopped onion

1 cup sour cream

1-1/4 cups milk

1 can cream of chicken soup

1 can whole-kernel corn, drained

1/4 teaspoon pepper.

Cook bacon over medium heat for five minutes in a Dutch oven. Add potatoes and onions. Cook until potatoes are tender (15 to 20 minutes). Add remaining ingredients. Cook until heated through (10 to 12 minutes). Amazing!

I've shared some of my favorite soup recipes. Would you reciprocate with one of yours? Click "Comments." Also, if you try one of mine, let me know how you like it.

Write on!

Because of Christ,

Sharon

Reclaiming All Hallows Eve

2011-10-22T07:53:00.000-05:00

[Note: Whenever I refer to the Church, I mean the regenerated followers of Jesus Christ, not some brick-and-mortar structure.]

The Church has allowed Satan, the ancient enemy of Creator God, to steal, or at least taint, many of our celebrations. The man Saint Nicholas, Bishop of Myra, who gave his all to follow the Savior, has morphed into a jolly, rotund, caricature we call Santa Claus, and the Easter Bunny continues to try to usurp the position of the resurrected Savior. Children are taught erroneously that Thanksgiving was a time when the Pilgrims thanked the Indians for helping them to survive in the wilderness.

All Hallows' Eve also has suffered at the hands of the enemy, though not as much as the afore-mentioned, since it was never purely Christian and has clearly pagan origins. Most agrarian cultures celebrate significant events in the seasonal growing cycle: harvest time, solstices and equinoxes, and planting time, for example.

The origins of All Hallows' Eve--Hallowe'en (don't forget the apostrophe)--go back 2,000 years to the Celtic festival of Samhain (pronounced sow-in). The word means "end of summer." Pumpkins, apples, and various gourds were a significant part of that event. The Celtic new year began on November 1.

By 43 A.D., the Romans had conquered the Celts, and within the following 400 years, had integrated their own pagan festivals into Samhain, including Feralia, occurring in late October. Feralia was a day to commemorate the dead.

"Christianity" spread through the Celtic lands by the 800s. In the eighth century, Pope Gregory III established that November 1 would be All Hallows' Day. According to Roman Catholic belief, All Hallows' Day was when souls were released from Purgatory and allowed to wander the Earth for 48 hours. Apparently, Pope Gregory was attempting to supplant Samhain with a Christianized version. That was Pope Gregory's M.O. He often claimed pagan celebrations and buildings and imposed a "Christian" significance on them. For example, he claimed the Pantheon (which was dedicated by the Romans to "all gods") for a Christian purpose. His All Saints' Eve was celebrated much as Samhain had been, with bonfires, parades, and people wearing costumes of saints, angels, and devils.

Today, many people claim that Hallowe'en is an innocent harvest festival, but a quick trot through the costume section of the local Wal-Mart tells a different story. With a glance backward to Samhain, Feralia, and, yes, All Hallows' Eve, one can see that the culture of death lives and thrives in today's celebration. It amazes me that many Christian parents continue to celebrate this time of ghosts, ghouls, goblins, and witches, labeling it "innocent fun." What is innocent about rubber masks that portray people who have been maimed, disfigured, frightened out of their minds, or murdered? Parents who encourage such "innocent fun" are opening the creaking door on the occult and nudging their wee ones over the threshold. Hallowe'en always has flirted with the macabre. May our All-wise God grant to those children the wisdom that their parents and grandparents lack.

Jesus says that He Is the Light of the World (John 8:12). As His followers, we are commissioned to reflect that light in today's dark world (Matthew 5:14).

As for Hallowe'en, we need not reclaim it; we never owned it.

First Draft, DONE!

2011-10-14T08:11:00.000-05:00

Sunday is my older grandson's birthday. To celebrate, I finished the first draft of my second middle-grade novel manuscript.

He stood at my elbow and looked expectantly at the computer screen. "So now you're done with it, Gran'ma?" I hated to burst his bubble, but I had to be honest.

"No, sweetheart. I'm just beginning."

"What do you mean? I thought you said it was done."

I explained that only the first draft--the raw writing of the thing--was done, that now came multiple revisions. "And I need to cut approximately five-thousand words."

"That sounds boring, Gran'ma," he said, as he walked out of the room. I decided not to overwhelm him by describing my search for an agent. After all, he's just turning eight.

Happy birthday, Reuben!

Addendum:

No, that's not a picture of my typewriter. I use a computer (though much of my initial writing is done in a Moleskine notebook with a good-quality pen or mechanical pencil). I just love pictures of old typewriters and other "writerly" schtuff.

Book Review: THE BETRAYAL by Jerry Jenkins

2011-09-08T19:51:00.000-05:00

Book Two in the Precinct 11 trilogy
from Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois (Copyright 2011; released 1 September 2011)
400-page trade paperback, $14.99
ISBN: 978-0-4143-0908-8

From Jenkins's website:
"As a longtime Chicagoan, the son of a police chief, and the brother of two cops, I found this writing a labor of love."

Back Cover Copy:

Detective Boone Drake has just pulled off the most massive sting in Chicago history, bringing down the heads of not only the biggest street gangs in the city but also the old crime syndicate. The story is the biggest in decades, and the Chicago Police Department must protect the key witness at all costs. Yet despite top secret plans to transfer the witness prior to his testimony before the grand jury, an attempt is made on his life.

It soon becomes apparent that someone inside the Chicago PD leaked information to the shooter. As evidence mounts and suspicion points too close to home, Boone doesn't know whom he can trust. An investigation reveals that the turncoat might be someone very close to him, even someone he loves--or is someone just trying to cover up corruption at the highest level of the police department? Trusting the wrong person could prove fatal.

The Betrayal is as fresh at today's Chicago Tribune. Literally. The windy city has survived more than its fair share of corruption scandals through its history, including some that are currently being unraveled. One in particular shares several markers with Jenkins's latest novel, though the two don't run parallel.
I made a quick call to Jenkins's office to see if the current high-level case--involving officers with CPD's elite Special Operations Section (SOS)--influenced him at all. His assistant said no. "He has been planning this trilogy for several years. Since his father was a police chief and two brothers are police officers, he's heard their stories." Thus, the verisimilitude.
Confession: cop thrillers are not my genre of choice. Though I read and loved Jenkins's Left Behind series, eagerly awaiting each new release, would this book hold that same attraction? Then I read the first four paragraphs.

Boone Drake awoke before sunup with little recollection of the previous two days. [All right. The hook was in my mouth. But it wasn't set yet.]

Oh, he knew the basics--where he was, that he was fortunate to be alive. Two uniformed officers still guarded his door. The noises and odors invaded his room at what everyone still called Cook County Hospital. And slowly, it all began to come back.

Boone, a detective in the Gang Enforcement Section of the Chicago Police Department, had masterminded the most massive sting in CPD history, bringing down the heads of not only the biggest street gangs in the city but also the Outfit--the old crime syndicate.

Key to the operation had been the secret spiritual conversion of gang kingpin Pascual Candelario--and his becoming an informant. [By the time I got to this point, I was hooked.]

The Betrayal picks up where the first book in the trilogy, The Brotherhood,
leaves off, with Boone Drake in the hospital recovering from the wound left by a 45 caliber Glock slug that had slammed into his chest as he tried to protect Candelario, crook turned Christian. And state's evidence. By all rights, Drake should be receiving a hero's accolades from the department while relaxing and recuperating. Instead, amid accusations against the integrity and reputation of Haeley Lamonica, also a CPD officer and the love of Drake's life, he sets out to clear her name, if she's as innocent as he believes her to be, by uncovering corruption in high places.
     The rapid-fire action propels the reader through the thirty-seven chapters and the epilogue, allowing very little time to gasp for air. As I neared the end, I couldn't lay it down and turn off the light to sleep. If at any point I dared to slip into complacency, sure that I knew what was coming, Jenkins switched things up and sent my heart into overdrive.
     There were times when I was concerned that too much would be revealed about pre- and extra-marital relationships. Also, when Haeley Lamonica is in jail, there is opportunity to go into graphic detail about life and abuse in such a place. I needn't have worried. Jenkins proved himself capable of handling such issues in the Left Behind series, never crossing the line of Christian propriety, proving that a skilled writer need not include gratuitous and offensive details to convey a point.
     Jenkins's characters are well developed and realistic. Even though, as a detective in CPD's Gang Enforcement Section, Drake moves among the dregs of vice, he holds to a high standard, one that reflects Jesus Christ in both his personal and professional life. Those around him who are corrupt spend little time in trying to entice him to betray his calling. They'd rather see him dead.

"Dianna, my wife of 40 years, is my everything," says best-selling author Jerry Jenkins

      Jenkins began his writing career as a sports reporter for his local newspaper. He is former editor of Moody Magazine, vice president for publishing, and now chairman of the board of trustees for the Moody Bible Institute of Chicago. He is author of more than 175 books, including the 70,000,000-selling Left Behind series. He holds honorary doctorates from Bethel College (Indiana), Trinity International University (Illinois), Colorado Christian University, Huntington University (Indiana), and Tennessee Temple University.
      Riven, which Jenkins considers his life's work novel, released in July 2008 to stellar reviews and has been optioned for a movie.
      His articles have appeared in Time, Reader's Digest, Parade, and Guideposts. He is contributing editor for Writer's Digest.
      He has co-written novels and non-fiction as-told-to autobiographies with Tim LaHaye, Bill Gaither, Billy Graham, John Perrodin, Dallas Jenkins (his son), Chris Fabry, and Ron DiCianni.
      Writers often receive advice to "find the genre you're good in and stick to that." Jenkins either didn't get the message or he chose to disregard it, because he writes with ease in numerous genres, including speculative fiction, cop thrillers, an international spy thriller, and Christian counseling and motivational non-fiction.

Further, he owns Jenkins Entertainment, a Chicago-based film-making company, and Christian Writers Guild. He is an in-demand speaker, especially on the subject of writing, and a popular humorist.

He and wife Dianna live in Colorado. They have three grown sons and eight grandchildren.

Read more about the life and work of Jerry Jenkins here.

Read on!
Because of Christ,
Sharon

Disclosure of Material Connection: Review copy provided by publisher. A positive review was not required; opinions expressed are those of the reviewer, Sharon Kirk Clifton.

Coming Very Soon: A Review of Jerry Jenkins' THE BETRAYAL

2011-09-07T07:53:00.000-05:00

Remembering Grandparents--the WRITE Way

2011-09-06T12:29:00.003-05:00

Grandparents' Day became a national holiday in 1978. It is the first Sunday following Labor Day. This year, it falls on September 11.

Grandma Kirk was a strong-willed, independent Quaker woman whose house always smelled of apples and who grew beautiful flowers. Throughout the growing season, vases of cone flowers, sweet peas, four-o'clocks, daisies, dahlias, zinnias, rosies and posies I couldn't possibly name adorned tables throughout her home. She loved me. Sternly.

Grandpa Kirk was the gentler of the two. He spoke little, but lovingly, and he smiled. Such a smile! It spread all the way up to his eyes. He teased, too. Grandpa was an engineer, though I didn't find that out until I grew up. He was the one who tooled up the old Maxwell automobile factory in New Castle, Indiana. (It later became the Chrysler factory.) And if anything went wrong with one of those huge machines, they called Grandpa to fix it. He was the only one who could. He was also a farmer, though his farming days were past by the time I came onto the scene.

A cousin who, by virtue of being older, knew them longer, told me recently that they both loved the Lord deeply. That blessed me.

I hardly got a chance to know Grandpa Wright, Mama's daddy. He died when I was six or seven. Memories of him come in fragments: because he was tall, he had a broad, comfortable lap; he smoked a wonderfully fragrant pipe; he liked pink wintergreen lozenges; he loved me. Grandma Wright departed this earth before I was born.

Even though all my grandparents were gone by the time I was ten, they impacted my life. So with the approach of NGD, I considered how I could best honor their memory. Write a book, I decided. For a few years now, an idea for a children's picture book about the relationship between a little boy and his grandmother has been niggling about in the back of my mind. This would be a good time to write the first draft of that manuscript.

Whether you consider yourself a writer or not, I urge you to record memories of your own grandparents. Provide details. Preserve them for posterity.

It's Your Turn: How do you plan to celebrate National Grandparents' Day? Leave a comment, if it please you. It would certainly please me!

Write on!

Because of Christ

Postscript

Quotations about Grandparents

Bill Cosby--"What is it about grandparents that is so lovely? I'd like to say that grandparents are God's gifts to children. And if they can but see, hear and feel what these people have to give, they can mature at a fast rate."

Eth Clifford--"My grandfather was a giant of a man ... When he walked, the earth shook. When he laughed, the birds fell out of the trees. His hair caught fire from the sun. His eyes were patches of sky."

Lord Chesterfield--"Being pretty on the inside means you don't hit your brother and you eat all your peas — that's what my grandma taught me."

Louisa May Alcott--"A house needs a grandma in it."

Irina Baronove-Tennant--"It's so important to give your children and grandchildren inspiration ... Teach them to notice, to pay attention, to appreciate, and to be inquisitive. Don't just look, try to see."

Teresa Bloomingdale--"If your baby is 'beautiful and perfect, never cries or fusses, sleeps on schedule and burps on demand, an angel all the time,' you're the grandma."

Marcy DeMaree--"Grandma always made you feel she had been waiting to see just you all day and now the day was complete."

Vaughn J. Featherstone--"What a wonderful contribution our grandmothers and grandfathers can make if they will share some of the rich experiences and their testimonies with their children and grandchildren."

Find more at Grandparents.com.

Write on!
Because of Christ,
Sharon

Writing Amish

2011-09-01T13:32:00.000-05:00

Each year I am privileged to travel to LaGrange County, Indiana, to tell stories as "Jack's Mama" at David Rogers Days, held the fourth weekend of August. DRD is one of Indiana's hidden jewels, as festivals go. Set in the log cabin village of David Rogers Park, it is in the heart of Indiana's northern Amish country. The event celebrates this state's pioneer heritage, as well as the life and philanthropy of the man for whom it is named. The rolling hills, large black walnut trees, wildflower meadows, and verdant farmland provide a beautiful setting. Guests pay a modest gate fee to enjoy traditional acoustic music, a sleight-of-hand artist (who also swallows fire and serves as ringmaster for a flea circus), a Punch and Judy show, strolling entertainers, a large interactive children's area, early American dance instruction, and various pioneer reenactors demonstrating such things as spinning, weaving, smithing, and bowl-making. Most of all, I love the audiences, many of whom are Old Order Amish.
   This year's festival was different for me because I've read several works of "kapp fiction." While it's not my genre to write, I enjoy reading them. I'm most familiar with the works of Beverly Lewis, Wanda Brunstetter, and Cindy Woodsmall. I've heard that kapp fiction is popular among the Amish, especially if the local Bishop permits them. But how accurately do they portray Amish life, I've wondered, since the best fiction is firmly rooted in truth.
       One of the Saturday vendors at DRD was a gracious Amish woman named Kathryn. She was selling some of the foods eaten following the church service on Preaching Sundays: homemade dill pickles, the best I've ever tasted; fried pies, Amish peanut butter, snickerdoodles, huge gingersnaps, sour cream sugar cookies, oatmeal raisin cookies, and cheese wedges. After discussing food and swapping recipes, we got on the subject of Amish fiction.
       "Do you read them?" I asked.
       "Jah. Wanda Brunstetter. Beverly Lewis. I read them when I get time." Of course, having read the books, I knew exactly what she meant, since they rise early and work long.
       "How accurate are they to your lives?"
       "A few are very accurate. Those ladies, for example. But many are not."
       I told her I check out the credentials of the writer and look at the acknowledgements page. Does the author thank members of the Amish community who proofed the manuscript for accuracy? Obviously they can't if they didn't invite some knowledgeable reader to critique the work.
      "Sometimes," Kathryn said, "writers will include things that either are not a part of the Amish way of life or are peculiar to a particular community." She indicated that she shuns the work of writers who are careless with the facts.
I appreciate when authors are clear about the setting of time, place, and, in the case of kapp fiction, specific community. As with any kind of writing, it behooves us to do the research.

'Bye-'Bye, Borders

2011-08-23T18:48:00.002-05:00

I'm sitting on a chair at a tiny table in the entryway of the Greenwood, Indiana Borders because this is the only seat left in the place. I feel as though I'm in the scene from You've Got Mail where the Shop Around the Corner is going out of business.

I know. I know. That little privately-owned children's bookstore had fallen victim to the big, bad chain store. My sympathies are with the small neighborhood shops, but since I've never lived near such a spot, except in my writer's vivid imagination, I am feeling sentimental about Borders' closings. Many pleasant, bookish, coffee-scented memories revolve around Borders--so many, in fact, I can almost forget Borders is a super chain. Or was.

My history with Borders goes back nearly a decade. My younger daughter, Dawna, introduced me to the joys that awaited just through those heavy red double doors. Before she went to South Korea to teach for a year, before she met and married a man from Nepal, before she had wee ones we would head for Borders, arriving around noon and staying until they ran us out so they could lock up for the night. Since that was pre-knee-surgery, she'd ask me what I wanted to look at. I'd dictate my wish list, and, while she went off to gather what she could, I'd order some scrumptious coffee and a sweet treat or an asiago-and-spinach-filled soft pretzel, warmed, of course. She'd return with a stack of books and magazines about writing, quilting, the arts, poetry, cooking, and literature. Once my nest was made, she'd go seeking after her own interests--arts, crafts, international cooking, travel, Chris Van Allsburg books (she's an illustrator and loves his work), and other miscellany. Then here she would come with a stack so high she could barely carry it, let alone see over it. And we'd stay for nine or ten hours, camping out while reading, sharing, drinking coffee, watching people, writing, and drinking more coffee.

When she married, we continued our Borders visits. Since her husband worked nights, we didn't have to hurry home. And of course, I never could leave without a few purchases. I suppose we should have paid rent on the table, too.

Sometimes I didn't read; I just wrote and wrote for those hours. It was at Borders that I discovered the guilty pleasure of writing in Moleskine notebooks such as the one I'm using to pen these words. From their eye-pleasing pale green paper and thin lines to the natural cardboard covers and their sewn construction I love them.

Dawna continued to be my Borders companion, even as the children came along--one, two, three--though the visits became shorter of necessity and less frequent. Now, just as the children are reaching an age when they enjoy browsing and finding a cozy corner to peruse a good book, Borders closes those magical red doors.

Don't hit me with the old line, "It's not personal. It's business." While I'm quoting You've Got Mail, I may as well add, "It's personal to a lot of people." I don't want to get into a conversation about the economy. Nor do I want to discuss the things I didn't like about Borders. I just want to bid the chain adieu. Something will come along to take its place. Hopefully.

The table I rest my elbows on is for sale for $75. The two chairs, $50 each. They're sturdy. Everything is for sale. Every bookcase, display rack, coffeemaker, counter, shelf ladder, and peg board hook. Every rug and every mug. From my vantage spot, I watch the constant flow of customers entering empty handed and leaving with bags full of bargains. Those shoppers, what are their memories, I wonder. Are they the least bit sentimental about the passing of this icon? Are you?

Because of Christ,
Sharon

Crafting the Conclusion

2011-07-12T09:47:00.000-05:00

The end is in sight, though elusive. I'm eager to begin revisions on my middle-grade historical fantasy, but I still have two chapters to go: the climax and the conclusion.
     The temptation is to slap something down, knowing that it will change in the course of general revisions, thus following the advice of the writer who said, "Get it down. Then get it right."
     I belong to a wonderful historical critique group through ACFW Scribes, and I feel a self-inflicted guilt if I don't keep my chapter submissions flowing at a quasi-regular pace. However, my seven-month stint back in the English classroom prohibited any kind of a regular writing schedule. Anyone who has taught understands the teacher's work day doesn't end with the final bell.
     In his book Plot and Structure, James Scott Bell acknowledges that writers, especially professional writers working on deadline, are prone to this approach. Bell advises writers to take time to craft the ending well.
   "A weak ending can ruin an otherwise wonderful book," Bell writes (p. 99). "A strong ending can redeem an otherwise mediocre book. So take your endings seriously." Reading that, I felt vindicated for taking my time with these final chapters, even in this, the first draft.

Bell, James Scott: Plot and Structure, Writer's Digest Books, Cincinnati, Ohio; 2004

Celebrate with Me!

2011-06-28T19:27:00.003-05:00

I've been a professional storyteller for a quarter of a century. To celebrate, I'm offering some special deals to clients who qualify for my "Great Rate" pricing. Click on the tab above for more details.

I'm Out of Breath!

2011-06-23T14:10:00.000-05:00

Follow-up on preceding post:
I'm out of breath. Cheryl Klein, senior editor with Arthur A. Levine Books, must surely be, as well. That was a rapid-fire 90 minutes, with no time for questions from attendees. However, Writer's Digest promises that no question will go unanswered, so submitted will be answered and sent to participants along with a recorded version of the webinar in about a week.

Though we were told we needn't take notes, I tried to capture some of the more salient points. But I'm happy that we'll get to ruminate further and at our leisure via the archived event.

Klein's presentation was very thorough. At this writing, I'm twenty-five minutes past the webinar's conclusion and cannot think of a single question. She provided contact information, in case some arise.

Do I recommend the WD webinars? Absolutely, if the subject under discussion is pertinent to your writing. Was it worth the price? Yes. I am a frugal writer and tend to weigh at length value against cost, which is why I waited until today to register.

I can't attend nearly as many conferences as I would love to. Thank you, Writer's Digest, for offering opportunities like this through Writer's Digest University.

COMMENT QUESTION: Have you participated in a webinar through WD, ACFW, or some other venue? What was your experience?

50 Minutes and Counting!

2011-06-23T11:15:00.000-05:00

I'm registered! In less than fifty minutes, the Writer's Digest webinar with Cheryl Klein, senior editor with Arthur A. Levine Books, begins. The topic is "How To Plot and Structure Your Novel." Can you tell I'm excited?

I've considered participating in WD webinars before. Fellow writers who have highly recommended them. This one is especially appealing because Klein pubs my genre--middle grade. I'll report back in a few hours, Lord willing. It's down to 46--no, 45 minutes, now.

Twiddling thumbs. Getting notebook. Pencils. Looking at clock. Twiddling thumbs. Humming tuneless tune. Forty-four minutes . . .

Happy Father's Day! (Can You Help Me?)

2011-06-19T06:34:00.002-05:00

I hope all you fathers have a day full of the Heavenly Father's blessings.

Readers, can you help me, please? As I embark on a new writing project, my third middle-grade novel, I'm gathering ideas on what makes a great dad great. What are his attributes? What things are important to him? How does he interact with his children when they're young? What about when they become teenagers? Was your father great, or do you know one?

I really would appreciate your feedback. Please click the "Comment" button. Thanks!

RESPONSE TO COMMENTS:
Linda, Blogger won't let me post a comment, so I've found that this works. Thank you so much for your comment. Would you be interested to expand a little? Any examples?

The Cross-Eyed Writer

2011-06-11T14:35:00.004-05:00

In Shakespeare's Hamlet, Act I, Scene 3, Polonius bids farewell to his son Laertes, who is bound for Paris. The father says:

This above all: to thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not be false to any man.

Far from the New Age self-knowledge liberal mindset that this quote would seem to support, Shakespeare had in mind a far more Elizabethan ideal when he penned the words. Polonius actually is warning Laertes against a debauched lifestyle of gambling, money borrowing and lending, carousing with women of loose reputation, and other intemperate pursuits. Such behavior would sully Laertes' reputation, proving him untrue to self.

The writer who is a follower of Jesus the Christ, while being concerned about her own reputation, is far more careful about how she reflects Christ through her writing. Whether she writes for the secular or the Christian market, she remains "Cross-eyed"; that is, she keeps her focus on the crucified and risen Savior.

I did not set out to be a Christian writer, per se. When I was in high school, I went through a phase of reading many of the Grace Livingston Hill romances. They were old even then, being set in the early twentieth century, but if one wanted to read fiction that was "wholesome," especially romances, Hill was about the only choice. Even then, however, I disliked the predictability and "preachy-ness" of her books. Nonetheless, I respect her for being one of the pioneers of Christian fiction. Janette Oke can claim credit for bringing the genre of Christian romance into its own for today's readers. Christian and non-Christian readers alike enjoy Oke's novels.

In recent years, the works of writers such as Frank Peretti, Ted Dekker, Jerry Jenkins, Tim LaHaye, Max Lucado, Liz Curtis Higgs, and others have joined the ranks of C.S. Lewis and J. R. R. Tolkien to write fiction that appeals to both Christian and secular markets. Some of the stories are overtly Christian, while others convey the saving message of Christ as a subtext or an allegory. These days, Christians write in nearly every genre and for all age groups. While their styles may be diverse, they have one thing in common, if they are true to their calling: they are Cross-eyed. They filter everything they write through the Lord's lens.

Are you a Cross-eyed writer? How does that affect what you write? Has the Holy Spirit ever called you into check for something you've written or were about to write? What steps do you take to make sure you remain a Cross-eyed writer? Please leave a comment telling about your experience. Thank you.

The Color of Shadows

2011-05-25T00:00:00.010-05:00

http://hoosierink.blogspot.com/

Visit the Hoosier Ink blog to read my latest post, "The Color of Shadows." Hoosier Ink is a blog written and maintained by members of ACFW Indiana. Be sure to bookmark it and visit often.

Write on!
Because of Christ
Sharon

Two More Weeks

2011-05-15T13:43:00.000-05:00

That's right. A ragtag remnant of this academic year is all that remains. Then I can get back to the business of writing. I can hardly wait!

If I sound eager for the school year to end, it's because I am. However, I know that I have been smack-dab in the exact place God wanted me for these seven months--immersed in the lives, minds, imaginations and hearts of middle-grade/YA readers. That's my genre of choice right now. I've witnessed a passion for reading ignite in a few. At least one eighth-grader proved herself to be a gifted writer. A reluctant sophomore discovered a love for reading plays and acting. Several others demonstrated that they are accomplished documentary producers.

God was with me through every circumstance, and I pray that He will continue to guide me as I shift back into high gear as a writer and raconteur. I'll try not to inundate this blog with multiple entries all at once. Please check back in June to see what I've been mentally incubating over the past seven months.

Soon. Very soon. Meanwhile . . .

Write on!

Because of Christ,
Sharon

Writers Learn to Navigate the Digital World

2011-04-10T20:28:00.003-05:00

ACFW Indiana Chapter Spring Meeting

More than 40 Hoosier writers and a sprinkling of Buckeye scribes gathered Saturday, 9 April, to hear Amanda Luedeke (pronounced LEE duh kee) speak on "Navigating the Digital World."Luedeke is an agent with MacGregor Literary

How is it that we can eagerly anticipate an event for weeks, but when it actually arrives, it is ephemeral. A few brief seconds in time, and it becomes history, preserved in the memories of those who were there, in meeting minutes, and on a smattering of blogs.

We had only a few moments to greet old friends and meet a couple new ones. No sooner had we asked, "What do you write?" than we found ourselves moving along the serving line of Jonathan Byrd's Cafeteria in Greenwood. (Why do they place the salads at the beginning of the line and follow them immediately with a huge spread of desserts: cakes, pies of all kinds, puddings, ooey-gooey brownies . . .? Come to think of it, half the salads could pass for desserts, too. Why is that?)

A few seconds later, after we got refills on drinks, stashed leftover tidbits in little white Styrofoam to-go boxes, and exchanged business cards with those at our end of the table, our special speaker began.

Amanda Luedeke admits she looks twelve. Though she's slightly older than that, her credentials and experience would lead one to think she must be 40-something at least. She isn't. It's just that she began writing at age five. Her first ms, The Cat, never quite made it to the shelves of Barnes & Noble, but it did distill in her a passion for things literary. You can read more about her career on the MacGregor Literary website.

Speaking on "Navigating the Digital World," Luedeke said a writer should determine his identity, a.k.a., his brand.Writers who pursue several genres end up confusing their readers. "Pursue what you're best at," she said. The writer's website or blog should reflect that brand. To prove her point, she cited a few websites, including that of Jenny B. Jones. (One glance, and you know Jones doesn't write dark, Gothic mysteries or westerns. IF she does, she uses nom de plumes and has separate websites for each genre.)

Luedeke also took her audience sailing among the various social networking sites, including Twitter, Facebook, stumbleupon.com, and Digg.com, giving the pros and cons of each and demonstrating how they can help the writer. "Be selective," she adjured, since it's unnecessary to use them all.

Finally, she spoke in great detail about blogging, offering five rules for the blogger:

Never talk about blogging. (Just do it.)
Don't make promises you can't keep. (If you say you're going to write daily, you're committed.)
Find a way to make each post worthwhile. (Don't fill it with meaningless fluff.)
Never apologize. (See "Don't make promises" above.)
Never talk about your day. (Who really cares that you had toast for breakfast, unless it's a food blog and you have an amazing way to prepare toast. Which I do, by the way. Use orange juice instead of milk when making French toast. Delicious!)

Luedeke presented us with much useful information, inspiring me to revamp my strategies.

And then too soon it was over.

L to R: Rick Barry, ACFW Indiana Pres.; Amanda Luedeke, and Crystal Laine Miller, V.P.

At the Cross

2011-04-02T20:10:00.002-05:00

I huddle at the foot of the Cross,

My arms stretched to encompass it around,

My head bowed,

My eyes pinched so tightly they hurt.

Silent sobs wrack my being.

The men are gone.

The Brotherhood, save one, has forsaken the Master.

Other women stand,

Bow,

Lie prostrate nearby,

Each alone,

Forsaken,

Desperate,

Desolate.

I hear their weeping off in the distance,

At the perimeter of my own sorrow.

Roman soldiers stand silent,

Trying to understand,

Yet bound merely to a duty.

Scribes, Pharisees, Sadduccees

Cluster together and mutter into their self-righteous beards,

Rehearsing their excuses.

Their mumbling blends, segues into the rumbling of a gathering storm.

Messiah, on the Cross, lifts His head to Heaven.

With one last lingering remnant of strength,

He pushes against the spike that holds His feet,

Pulls up on the nails that pierce His wrists,

Draws in a gurgling breath,

Licks His lips to moisten them, to make speech possible,

And cries out to the Father Whose Face is turned away.

"It is finished!"

A pronouncement that will echo throughout Eternity.

I look up as His weary, abused head

Sinks

To His bosom,

Where so many children had rested their heads

And received His blessing.

A drop of His vermilion Blood

Rolls down one of the thorns

That comprises a crude crown.

In one interminable moment,

I watch it

Fall;

I tip my face downward in shame,

Knowing my own unworthiness,

Yet yearning for His anointing.

That Sacred Drop

Splashes on my head and covers me over.

The Earth begins to tremble.

Writing à la Stanislavski: There's Method to My Madness

2011-02-19T07:44:00.002-06:00

In the mid-1970s, I wrote for a small-town weekly newspaper run by three newly-graduated Indiana University journalism alumni. I was in my mid-30s at the time, making me the old lady of the group. Nonetheless, I shared their enthusiasm--reveled in it, in fact. Together we were going to change the world. Our small part of it, at any rate. That was when I met author and literary patron George Plimpton.

Okay. I didn't literally meet him. But I learned of his work. His style influenced me then and continues to do so.

In the 1960s, Plimpton became known for his "participatory journalism." When he died in September 2003, NPR's Mike Pesca summarized Plimpton's life saying, "He boxed with Archie Moore, pitched to baseball legend Willie Mays, played in pro-am golf tournaments and even performed in the circus. His best-selling book Paper Lion chronicled the time he spent in training camp with the Detroit Lions football team, posing as a slender, awkward quarterback candidate from Harvard."

That's what I liked about Plimpton. He didn't simply interview people or read about a subject; he got down and dirty. He did the thing, whatever it was, and I wanted to do that. Physically, I couldn't always participate in some stories to the degree he did, but I came as close as I could, and I still do.

When I decided to do a story about a young black blacksmith, I researched smithing, learning the difference between cold-shoeing and hot-shoeing. Then I met with him in his barn. To this day, I can describe the sickening smell of a hot shoe coming in contact with a horse's hoof.

When a former professional boxer decided to attempt a comeback, I went to the gym with him, photographed his routine, and punched the bag a few times to get the feel of it. From that experience I can tell you that it is not easy to get control of the teardrop-shaped "speed bag." As for the cylindrical "heavy bag," it's practically immovable. And well I recall the smell of that old gym.

When I wanted to do a story about the work of an interpretive reenactor at a nearby living history museum, I spent the day dressed in period attire, traveling from cabin to school to blacksmith shop, etc. I was the first journalist to do that at Conner Prairie. I stirred the stew, spun the wool, swept the floor, and sampled the food. (That day, pork chops, sauerkraut, and coarse cornbread were on the menu at one cabin while another had just pulled a pan of rhubarb bread from the coals. Have mercy! It all was so delicious!)

George Plimpton also was an actor, playing himself in Reds and Good Will Hunting. (Is it really acting if one plays oneself? Perhaps. If you play yourself not as you really are but as others perceive you to be.)

Which brings me to Konstantin Stanislovski, whom I met (figuratively, again) when I minored in speech and theater in college. Stanislovski advocated a style of performance called "method acting." The method departs from classical forms by asking the actor to internally experience the scene. A method actor will not simply pretend to be sad, angry, or jubilant; he will recall events in his own life when he felt those emotions--the death of a beloved grandparent, the unfair termination of a job, the birth of a child, for example. Inasmuch as is possible, he will mentally relive those times so that his expression of the actions and emotions will be truthful, not contrived. I've often wondered if Plimpton was influenced by Stanislavski, applying some of the actor's ideas to writing.

Though I'm sure I don't take it as far as method actors do, I try to experience as much of what my characters do as I can, stepping out of my own Born oxfords and into their tennies, high-tops, or whatever. (For that reason, you'll never see an MC of mine wearing stilettos.)

Do you do anything similar toward understanding your characters and experiencing their lives? Do you know of a writer who goes to extraordinary lengths to know her characters and settings? I'd love to read about it on the "Comments" page, as would my readers, so please share.

Write on!
Because of Christ,
Sharon

WooHOO! The February 2011 Issue is Out!

2011-02-02T12:13:00.001-06:00

It's always a good day when word comes that ACFW's premier ezine, Afictionado, is up for viewing. The latest issue features articles by ACFW president, Margaret Daley; Randy Ingermanson (the Snowflake Man), who writes "Writer's Toolbox: Selling Your Novel in 25 Words or Less"; and many others. Write fiction? Click over to read some informative articles.

Stay cozy and. . .

Write on!

Because of Christ,

Sharon

Leave Our Mark Twain Alone! STET!

2011-01-05T20:21:00.001-06:00

Dear Gentle Readers,

I cannot say it better than Lauren Lise Baratz-Logsted does in this article, so I respectfully submit to you a link.

Ironically, I began reading Our Town with my ninth-grade English students today. While I knew that our books looked different, I had no idea that the volume I was reading was a white-washed PC version. In the midst of our discussion about how appalling that was, one student noticed that on my large Huckleberry Finn poster was a warning, stating that the book was on many "banned" lists. One discussion led to the other. Then I came home to this article. Shocking!

This Writer's Prayer

2010-12-29T08:17:00.000-06:00

Dear Heavenly Father,

First, I come before Your throne to worship You, for You alone are worthy of my worship. You are holy. You are sovereign. You are Creator God in Whose image I am made.

I thank You for Your mercy and grace and for the many gifts You bestowed this year, in both my personal life and my professional life.

Now I pray that You will continue to lead in 2011. This time next year may I be able to look back and see Your hand in every aspect of my life, including my writing, storytelling, and teaching. Be Thou my vision! Guide my words, my steps, my attitudes, my imaginings, my encounters.

Life in You is a great adventure! I look forward to the next leg of this journey Heavenward. Be glorified!

In Jesus' precious Name . . . amen.

Dear gentle reader, may you, too, have a very blessed New Year.

I invite you to stop over at Hoosier Ink, where I just posted a related article. Thank you. And thank you for visiting Sharon Kirk Clifton, Writer and Raconteur. I hope you'll continue to do so.

Write on!
Because of Christ,
Sharon

Christmas Reflections: Five

2010-12-24T07:15:00.000-06:00

The Christ of Christmas

[First appeared December 2009 on this blog]

The house is quiet in this predawn hour. Soon my grandsons will come bounding down the stairs and into my room. "It's Christmas, Gran'ma! Merry Christmas," they'll shout. The day will get busier from that moment, so I am snatching this brief time to write the final entry in the "Christmas Reflections" series.

This posting should have been finished by now, but I couldn't find direction. As a writer and storyteller, I had no trouble putting myself in Mary's place. I could imagine her, propped up against the rough boards of a stall, still perspiring from the labor of giving birth, cradling her newborn son in her arms while she examined every wrinkle and pore of His face--the face of God. I could see her bending to drink in His sweet scent and kiss the hollow at the bridge of His nose. I envisioned her slipping aside her robe just enough to put Him to her breast, giving sustenance to the One Who had created her. No doubt she pondered the words of the angel Gabriel, who told her, "He shall be great."

But this was no ordinary baby. With the conception of Jesus, Almighty God condescended from His position to take on human flesh and enter the world of man. The details of His coming were foretold by God Himself, as He escorted Adam and Eve from the Garden of Eden, and through His prophets throughout the Old Testament. I love Luke 4:16-22, which says:

And he came to Nazareth, where he had been brought up. and as was his custom, he went to the synagogue on the Sabbath day, and he stood up to read. And the scroll of the prophet Isaiah was given to him. He unrolled the scroll and found the place where it is written, "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim liberty to the captives and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor."

And he rolled up the scroll and gave it back to the attendant and sat down. And the eyes of all in the synagogue were fixed on him. And he began to say to them, "Today this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing."

The Christ did not come to be a cute, giggling, wriggling baby for everyone to coo over. The manger stood in the shadow of the cross. The captives? The blind? The oppressed? That's mankind. Me. You. We are held captive by sin. We are willfully blind to His truth. We are oppressed by our own wickedness. Jesus was born to die on the cross to take away the sin of all who repent and believe in Him. He then conquered Death and Hell by resurrecting from the tomb.

Two millennia ago, a baby was born under humble circumstances to a peasant girl, a virgin until after His birth. That baby is the King of kings, and his prophesied return is imminent. Indeed, the King is coming!

Christmas Reflections: Four

2010-12-22T16:20:00.002-06:00

Nylons for Lunch

I always knew that Santa Claus was a wonderful fantasy. Mama never took me to sit on his lap, at least not that I can recall. Perhaps she wanted to protect me from the disappointment of a nearly giftlessgiftless," because I usually got something practical--a new pair of oxfords from Schiff's Shoes, a cozy flannel nightgown from Grant's, or a blouse from Kresge's dimestore. It was never anything frivolous such as a transistor radio from Sears'. Christmas morning. I say "nearly

My gifts to Mama were handmade in the early years. After all, one would have to collect a ton of empty bottles to get anything really nice. I was in junior high when I decided that she deserved something better than a potholder woven on a borrowed toy loom or a boot-scraper crafted from pop bottle lids nailed to a small square of plywood. (After all, we lived in the heart of downtown New Castle, Indiana, so we seldom had mud on our shoes, and any snow that might be on them would melt away long before we had trudged up the three flights of stairs to our apartment.) But what could I get her, and how could I pay for it?

I began to walk the aisles of the stores looking for just the right present. One day I decided to go into Mary Woodbury's, the finest ladies' apparel shop in town. How brazen of me to even walk through the heavy brass and plate-glass door! The floor was carpeted in some plush stuff. My oxfords sank in up to the laces. Soft music played in the background. An intoxicating fragrance filled the air. I inhaled deeply, trying my best to be quiet about it. It would never do to sniff loudly in Mary Woodbury's.

I couldn't stand there and take root in the rug, so I forced myself forward to the perfume counter. Mama liked perfume, though I'd never known her to wear anything but Coty's L'Oreal, which was sold at the corner drugstore.

"May I help you?"

I turned to see a well-dressed sales clerk with meticulously coiffed hair. At least, I assumed she was a sales clerk. Could it be Mary Woodbury herself? Suddenly I felt like a ragamuffin who had wandered in off the street . . .which was exactly what I was.

"I . . .uhm . . ." Quickly, I picked up one of the perfume bottles. "Can you please tell me how much this is?"

"Yes, miss. That would be eight dollars." I gulped and hoped she hadn't heard. "Shall I wrap it for you?"

"Uh . . .no, thank you. I think I'll keep looking."

Next to the perfume was the hosiery counter. I walked over to take a look. The clerk stayed right with me. She showed me a pair of Van Raalte nylons that came in a box with tissue paper. How elegant! How perfect for Mama! And they were . . .possible . . .if I really saved. A mere two dollars and ninety-nine cents.

The junior high had no cafeteria, so Mama gave me a quarter everyday for lunch at one of the numerous hamburger joints within walking distance of the school. Doug's, with it's killer hamburgers and steaming chili, was my favorite. Both the burgers and the chili were fifteen cents apiece. During this parsimonious time, I got one or the other and drank water. Thus I was able to stash a dime per day for the Van Raaltes. As Christmas drew closer, I skipped lunch all together. The thought of Mama's getting all dressed up to go somewhere, slipping on those luxurious stockings, and asking me to fasten the clasp of her double-strand graduated pearls (a remnant of more prosperous years) helped me forget my growling stomach.

Two days before Christmas, I walked into Mary Woodbury's and up to the hosiery counter with cash in hand. The same clerk came up to me.

"I would like one pair of the Van Raalte hose, size 9, in taupe, please."

I could have sworn the clerk was pinching back a smile, but she may have just stifled a burp. "Would you like that gift-wrapped, miss?"

I stood on tiptoe and leaned over the counter so that only she could hear me. "Is that extra?"

"No, miss."

"Then, yes, please."

On Christmas morning, Mama ever so delicately loosened the tape of the silver-wrapped Van Raalte box, pausing only to notice the embossed Mary Woodbury's sticker near the bow. Memories of those afternoon hunger pangs vanished in the light of her smile. It was absolutely delicious.

Merry Christmas, Mama. I love you.

Snow Day...

2010-12-13T06:44:00.003-06:00

Photo by Brian Tang

Dear God,

I just got the call. School is canceled for today because of snow. But Lord, it's the last week before Christmas break. It's also semester's end. We have so much to accompli . . .

Be still and know that I am God.
Yes, Lord, I do know that, but today the seventh- and eighth-graders were to plan their homecoming float, and I'm . . . well, I'm the faculty sponsor for that, and . . .

Have fun in the snow I have sent. It is a gift of the season.
Oh, it is beautiful, Lord, but my students were to recite their Poetry Out Loud poems today, so they'll be ready to . . .

Today, be at peace. Meditate on My Word.
I love to do that, Father. So often it seems I'm too busy to spend the time I want and need in Your Word, but I have one novel and one play I'll be teaching second semester, and I've never read the nov . . .

Photo by Brian Tang

Creation pauses on days like this to take notice. My child, take notice!
Oh, and I need to talk with my tenth-grade honors class about . . . Finals are this week!

Take a walk in the snow with your grandchildren, more gifts from Me. Write. Read. Watch a good movie.
Thank You Lord, for this wonderful snow day. This truly is the day that Thee, Lord, has made! Amen.

Dear gentle readers, what are you doing on this fine "snow day"? I'd love it if you'd tell us about it in the "Comments" section.

Christmas Reflections: Three

2010-12-12T20:38:00.004-06:00

A Birth Most Imminent

Just hear those sleigh bells jinglin', a ring-ting-tinglin', too. Come on, it's lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you.

It was a cherished ritual with us--myself and my two daughters. At least once a Christmas season, we would bundle up against the cold, get in the car, and take a grand light tour, stopping off first at a gas station for tall, steaming cups of some specialty holiday coffee or cappuccino. Then, with music of the season playing in the background and us joining in, we'd head for the most spectacular displays we could find, the ones where folks stopped their cars, dimmed their lights, and sat for awhile to take it all in.

You know the spot. You have one in your town, most likely. Perhaps it is a neighborhood where on a special night the streets and walkways are lined with luminarios. Or maybe it's the home of a retired man whose hobby is converting his garage into Santa's workshop and his lawn into a quiet Bethlehem scene once a year.

Giddy-yap, giddy-yap, giddy-yap! Let's go! Let's look at the show. We're ridin' in a wonderland of snow.

We usually visited the flashiest displays first, before wandering onto quiet streets. One night, colored lights shone through a fresh layer of snow, turning neighborhoods into a surrealistic winter wonderland. We rolled the car windows down, willing to endure the cold in order to hear the sound of our tires crunching snow. The icy glow of a nearly-full moon added to the mystery of the scene. We were in an upscale suburb, and most of the properties were decorated to some degree. Brightly-lit Christmas trees stood where they could be seen from the street, electric candles glowed in each window, and wreaths of fresh evergreenery hung on heavy doors of wood and brass.

Let's take the road before us and sing a chorus or two. Come on, it's lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you.

One house stood out for its lack of adornment.

"Stop," I said to my older daughter who was driving. "Let's go back to that house."

Both daughters asked why. "I can't explain it, but I just think that we should carol the people who live there."

My younger daughter who was sitting in back leaned forward. "Do you know them?"

"No. That doesn't matter."

We went back, parked the car, and walked up to the door. I knocked firmly, and, without waiting for an answer, we began to sing in three-part harmony, as we often did at church.

Silent night. Holy night.

The door opened, and there stood a young man and his wife. He had his arm around her to warm her.

Away in a manger, no crib for a bed. The little Lord Jesus lay down His sweet head.

The young woman looked up at her husband and smiled.

We wish you a merry Christmas! We wish you a merry Christmas! We wish you a merry Christmas and a happy new year!

"Thank you. Thank you so very much," said the woman. "I'm in labor. We're on our way to the hospital. And I was not looking forward to the ordeal ahead of me. But I know I can make it, now. I really needed to hear your lovely caroling."

"Yes," the man said. "Thank you. And merry Christmas to you, also."

On our way out of that neighborhood, God gave us another blessing. A family of deer numbering seven or eight wandered onto a broad, snow-covered lawn just as we were about to pass. Again we stopped the car and dimmed the lights. The deer lingered, watching us watching them. For several minutes we sat there, sipping the last of our drinks, cold by now, before heading for home.

There's a birthday party at the home of Farmer Gray. It will be the perfect ending of a perfect day.

Christmas Reflections: Two

2010-12-11T16:16:00.004-06:00

The Candies of Christmas

These are a few of my favorite Christmas recipes.

Martha Washington Creams

2 lbs. sifted confectioners' sugar

1 can sweetened condensed milk

2 cups flaked coconut

1 stick butter (not margarine)

3 cups chopped pecans

1 jar drained maraschino cherries (pat dry with paper towel), snipped or chopped finely

Dipping chocolate

Mix all ingredients together; shape into balls; chill until hard. Dip chilled balls in dipping chocolate and let cool. Store in airtight container in refrigerator.

Haystacks

1 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips

1/2 cup chunky natural peanut butter

2 cups chow mein noodles

Microwave the chocolate chips and peanut butter just until melted. Stir together. Add chow mein noodles and toss to coat. Drop by spoonfuls onto waxed paper or parchment. Chill in refrigerator. Story in airtight container.

Black Walnut Cream Cheese Fudge

1 six-ounce package semi-sweet chocolate chips

6 ounces original cream cheese (not low-fat) at room temperature

2 tablespoons milk or cream

4 cups sifted powdered sugar

1 teaspoon vanilla extract or 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract and 1/2 teaspoon black walnut extract

1/4 teaspoon salt

1 cup coarsely chopped black walnuts (can substitute walnuts or pecans)

Butter a 9 x 9 x 2-inch baking pan well; set aside. Melt chocolate chips in double boiler over hot, not boiling, water. Cream the cream cheese and milk together. Gradually add powdered sugar. Blend in melted chocolate chips, vanilla, and salt. Stir in black walnuts. Press mixture into pan. Cover with plastic wrap, and chill overnight or until firm. Cut into squares.

Dale's Date Delight

1 cup chopped pecans

2 cups sugar

2 cup dates, snipped

3/4 cup graham cracker crumbs

2 teaspoons baking powder

6 eggs, separated

Pre-heat oven to 350 degrees. Beat egg yolks until light and lemon colored. Slowly beat sugar into the yolks. In medium bowl, mix other dry ingredients (pecans, dates, and graham cracker crumbs). Stir dry ingredients slowly into egg yolk mixture. Beat egg whites until stiff peaks form. Add baking powder to the beaten whites. Fold gently into yolk mixture. Pour into an ungreased baking dish. Bake 30--45 minutes, depending on the size of the baking dish. Serve with whipped cream or hard sauce.

Special Note: Dale's Date Delight rises quite a bit, so use a baking dish or casserole that allows head room.

Hard sauce: In a medium-size bowl, using mixer set at medium high speed, beat one stick of unsalted butter (softened), with 1 cup confectioners' sugar until light and fluffy. Add 3 tablespoons dark rum. Serve on Dale's Date Delight or your favorite bread pudding recipe.

Bleu Cheese Ball
(What? You say a cheese ball isn't "candy"? It may depend on how one defines "candy." :-) )

1 eight-ounce pkg. regular cream cheese (not low fat)

1 eight-ounce pkg. "1/3 less fat" cream cheese

1 four-ounce pkg. bleu cheese, crumbled

1/2 cup finely chopped nuts (pecans or walnuts)

Bring cheeses to room temperature. Cream together in a medium mixing bowl. Form into a ball. Refrigerate until firm. Roll in nuts until well-covered. Gently press nuts into cheese ball. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate until ready to serve with assorted crackers. I prefer plain ol' whole-grain saltines, myself.

Christmas Reflections: One

2010-12-06T07:01:00.000-06:00

The Dark Streets Shineth
When I was a child, the streets of New Castle, Indiana--my home town--became magic at Christmas time. "Hark the Herald Angels Sing" and "I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas" blared from bell-shaped speakers mounted atop some of the buildings. Shop windows sparkled with colored lights and tempting displays. Wide-eyed children pressed their noses against the window glass to get a closer view of the Terri Lee dolls, Lionel train sets, and mechanized elves. Other tots stood with their parents in the long queue to get inside the cramped little Santa Claus house on the courthouse lawn.

The stores extended their hours from Thanksgiving to Christmas, so the town streets bustled with shoppers in the evening, laughing and greeting friends. Uniformed Salvation Army workers, backs turned to the wind and collars flipped up, rang their silver bells at every intersection.

Since we lived in the Jennings Building, up over McShurley's Shoe Store and The Coffee Shop, I spent a lot of time wandering the stores and the downtown streets, drinking in the sights and sounds of the season like a mug of hot cocoa. Sometimes Mama would give me a quarter and a nickel so I could visit the candy counter at Murphy's dimestore. I would get a quarter's worth of French creme candy, available only at Christmas time, and five-cents' worth of warm Spanish peanuts, my favorite. With those two bags in my hand, I felt like a big spender.

I loved it. The busyness. The music, tinny though it was. The laughter. The candy. The lights. They all contributed to the magic.

But snow lent the real magic. As the air began to fill with large, cold, wet feathery flakes, I would turn down a side street, walk a block or so, and stand under one of the antiquated street lamps. Looking up into its aura, I watched the snow dance in the light. Softly, so that none could hear me save the lamp and the descending snow, I sang along with music from the speakers: "O, little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie. Above thy deep and dreamless sleep the silent stars go by. Yet in thy dark streets shineth the Everlasting Light. The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight." Amen.

Dear reader, would you be so kind as to leave one of your own Christmas reflections as a comment? I'd love to hear it.

One More Time

2010-12-05T17:10:00.000-06:00

As Christmas draws near, I will reprise some posts from last year--some memories of Christmases past. I invite you to stop by, read mine, and share some of your own or link to your blog so we may read them there.

Write on!
Because of Christ

Writing Those Perplexing Proposals

2010-12-05T16:51:00.000-06:00

If you're a serious writer, you've either written proposals or will have to do so eventually. Though I'm gaining experience in that area, I'm certainly no expert, so I look to those who are.

Rachel Kent is an agent with Books & Such Literary, specializing in books for teens, twenty-somethings, and thirty-somethings. On the agency blog, she provides four lessons in proposal writing. I snagged them and put them in a Word file so I can access the info quickly. Here's the link: Books & Such Literary.

What are some of your favorite sites for writerly how-tos and information? Leave a comment, please and thank you.

Listening to Leah

2010-11-27T16:52:00.000-06:00

I'm within about 15,000 words--three or four short chapters--of being finished with the first draft of The Second Cellar, my transitional novel about the adventures of Leah Bright Maxwell (pictured above) in two centuries. Her crises build in intensity. She already stepped squarely in harm's way--and was harmed as a result. I can see the climax in my mind. Hear the frenzied voices, the stomping of heavy boots on the frozen forest floor, the whimpering of a baby and its mama's coos. I smell the woodsmoke hanging like a blanket in the crisp early winter air. It's there.

But for right, I'm waiting. She's recuperating. So I need to talk with her again. We had a long talk before her adventures began. That got us started. But now, before we embark on this last leg, I need to be still and listen to her talk, so I'll know what she's feeling and thinking.

Dear fellow writer, do you do that? Do you carry on periodic dialogues with your characters? Do they influence the direction of your story--their story? To what degree do you allow them to dictate the course?

Please respond by leaving a comment. Thank you.

The Case of the Vanishing Sheriff

2010-10-29T20:05:00.001-05:00

Off to the right is old Robert Right Rea (pronounced "ray"), bidding us a faretheewell. His violent demise may never be accounted for, but one small mystery has been solved: that of why his name as sheriff of Jefferson County, Indiana, doesn't appear on the list of elected sheriffs that hangs on the wall of the current office.

According to Ron Grimes, archivist of the Jefferson County Historical Society Research Library:

The dates of his slave-hunting is not definitely known, but there is little record of his activities after Sept. 1854 when he lost in his bid to be elected Jefferson County Sheriff after a well publicized incident involving the arrest of abolitionist Delia Webster. He owned and operated a hotel in Madison for some time after 1854 and died under suspicious circumstances in 1869.
We don't have the exact dates of his term as sheriff. He was never elected to the office, but apparently replaced Sheriff William Wharton who resigned while in office in the early 1850's, and served until fall of 1854 when he lost the election.

Case closed. For now.

Burying a Long-dead Corpse

2010-10-22T11:40:00.000-05:00

He's a mystery man, a rogue sheriff who took the law in his hands and twisted it into what he wanted it to be.

"Could he be just a legend?" someone asked.

No. Reliable researchers swear there are newspapers on file that tell of his shenanigans. Another expert on local history told me how to get to his family burial site where his stone stands, proclaiming the reality of his existance. Yet, the large wall poster listing sheriffs of the county all the way back to 1815 makes no mention of the elusive man. But Ancestry.com lists a younger man--perhaps a son or, more likely, a grandson--bearing the same name.

The newspaper journalist in me wants to check further into the story or Robert Right Rae Sr., but since time is short, having promised an agent that I'd complete this manuscript in five months, I've had to find another solution. After all, historians have been on his trail for years and discovered what I've shared here.

Several of you gentle readers shared your wisdom, and this is my solution.

History is a precious thing. It has suffered great harm at the hands of revisionists recently. I do not want to do further damage to the truth. Therefore, I have fictionalized the locations and the characters. In that way, I can base my scoundrel of a slave-hunting sheriff "loosely" on the man himself. I've renamed the towns and counties. To protect the guilty? No. To protect history.

Searching for a Dead Man

2010-10-21T13:39:00.000-05:00

I know he lived. His tombstone stands among others of his family near the landfill. The report of his brutal murder appears in old newspapers. His corpse was found naked, with one sock on and one off. He had been bludgeoned on both sides of his head. The man inflicted violence on others all his life and died by violence. And he was supposedly the county sheriff in the mid-1800s.

Though the spelling of his name was a mystery to me for a long time, I finally managed to interview the right person who provided that: Robert Right Rae Sr.--not Wright Ray or Wray. But as for his holding the office of sheriff, I can find no evidence. I called the public library, the historical society, the Sheriff Department where he supposedly served more than a 150 years ago, and a local historical site, but to no avail. The Sheriff's office has on the wall a large poster that lists all sheriffs and their term years, but Rae is not listed, nor are there gaps in that record, according to the office staffer who looked. While he doesn't figure prominently in my work-in-progress, he is mentioned, so of course I want to be accurate.

What does a writer do when your research trail lands you flat up against a stone wall--a jail wall, at that? As I see it, I have two choices. I can keep searching for answers, squeezing in some time to travel to the location and pore over old newspapers for hours, or I can accept what I've gleaned from reliable sources and create a fictional character based on the elusive reality.

Brother and sister scribes, what would you do when faced with such a conundrum? Please leave a "Comment."

Reclaiming All Hallows' Eve

2010-10-08T16:24:00.001-05:00

Reclaiming All Hallows'?

[Note: Whenever I refer to the Church, I mean the regenerated followers of Jesus Christ, not some brick-and-mortar structure.]

The Church has allowed Satan, the ancient enemy of Creator God, to steal, or at least taint, many of our celebrations. The man Saint Nicholas, Bishop of Myra, who gave his all to follow the Savior, has morphed into a jolly, rotund, caricature we call Santa Claus, and the Easter Bunny continues to try to usurp the position of the resurrected Savior. Children are taught erroneously that Thanksgiving was a time when the Pilgrims thanked the Indians for helping them to survive in the wilderness.

All Hallows' Eve also has suffered at the hands of the enemy, though not as much as the afore-mentioned, since it was never purely Christian and has clearly pagan origins. Most agrarian cultures celebrate significant events in the seasonal growing cycle: harvest time, solstices and equinoxes, and planting time, for example.

The origins of All Hallows' Eve--Hallowe'en (don't forget the apostrophe)--go back 2,000 years to the Celtic festival of Samhain (pronounced sow-in). The word means "end of summer." Pumpkins, apples, and various gourds were a significant part of that event. The Celtic new year began on November 1.

By 43 A.D., the Romans had conquered the Celts, and within the following 400 years, had integrated their own pagan festivals into Samhain, including Feralia, occurring in late October. Feralia was a day to commemorate the dead.

"Christianity" spread through the Celtic lands by the 800s. In the eighth century, Pope Gregory III established that November 1 would be All Hallows' Day. According to Roman Catholic belief, All Hallows' Day was when souls were released from Purgatory and allowed to wander the Earth for 48 hours. Apparently, Pope Gregory was attempting to supplant Samhain with a Christianized version. That was Pope Gregory's M.O. He often claimed pagan celebrations and buildings and imposed a "Christian" significance on them. For example, he claimed the Pantheon (which was dedicated by the Romans to "all gods") for a Christian purpose. His All Saints' Eve was celebrated much as Samhain had been, with bonfires, parades, and people wearing costumes of saints, angels, and devils.

Today, many people claim that Hallowe'en is an innocent harvest festival, but a quick trot through the costume section of the local Wal-Mart tells a different story. With a glance backward to Samhain, Feralia, and, yes, All Hallows' Eve, one can see that the culture of death lives and thrives in today's celebration. It amazes me that many Christian parents continue to celebrate this time of ghosts, ghouls, goblins, and witches, labeling it "innocent fun." What is innocent about rubber masks that portray people who have been maimed, disfigured, frightened out of their minds, or murdered? Parents who encourage such "innocent fun" are opening the creaking door on the occult and nudging their wee ones over the threshold. Hallowe'en always has flirted with the macabre. May our All-wise God grant to those children the wisdom that their parents and grandparents lack.

Jesus says that He Is the Light of the World (John 8:12). As His followers, we are commissioned to reflect that light in today's dark world (Matthew 5:14).

As for Hallowe'en, we need not reclaim it; we never owned it.

Best First Lines Ever?

2010-10-05T14:32:00.000-05:00

American Book Review's website lists what the editors consider the "100 Best First Lines from Novels."

Your assignment, should you agree to accept it, is to peruse the list and then come back here and comment as to whether or not you agree with the list. Why or why not? Which ones would you toss off the list? With what would you replace, so that the list would still contain one-hundred? What great fist lines have you read lately or in contemporary works?

Narnia: Voyage of the Dawn Treader Trailer 2010

2010-10-03T14:57:00.000-05:00

"Write to the Power of Three"

2010-09-29T10:47:00.000-05:00

Please visit the Hoosier Ink blog to read my article. While you're there, I hope you'll take time to read some of the other entries by Indiana ACFW writers. Thank you.

"Where Clean Teen Fiction Abounds"

2010-09-21T14:29:00.000-05:00

I learned about Novel Teen at the American Christian Fiction Writers conference, held this weekend in Indianapolis, and thought it might be helpful for those who want to recommend good reading to the teens in their lives. While I don't necessarily recommend every book featured on the site, it's a good starting place. Don't neglect the classics, though. They're called classics for a reason; they cross over the generational lines to address issues common to mankind through the centuries. They're never dated. Novel Teen is sponsored by Word Press.

What books--classic or contemporary--would you recommend? Why?

Decrescendo

2010-09-04T16:57:00.001-05:00

The trees play a symphony of color,
With the maples and the sweetgums
Filling the brass section,
The willows, the graceful, high-pitched strings,
The oaks, leather-headed drums.
It is September, that unsubtle month
That must be heard beating out the summer,
Heralding the fall,
Warning of winter to come.
"These crisp mornings put the sweetness
In the apples," Mama used to say.
And the symphony plays on,
Sometimes in the raucous sunlight that seems
Brighter because it is rarer than in July,
Sometimes under billowing clouds,
Sometimes softly muted in the early morning mists.
The song is as sweet as a golden delicious,
But with overtones of melancholy,
Foreshadowing a key change.

Copyright 1996 by Sharon Kirk Clifton

Some Poetry for a Summer Afternoon

2010-08-13T13:00:00.001-05:00

August

Cicadas sing their late summer song

through thick air.

It's a time when skin sticks to plastic seats

and flies hover around eyes

and dart near noses.

Dogs bark intermittently,

pausing to scratch incessant itches,

marigolds yell in tones of orange,

and dahlias dally along garden borders.

Barefoot country boys

squeeze creek-bottom sand between brown toes.

And the Muses inspire poets to write sentimental verse about August.

Blessed Is the Father Who Fishes

Blessed is the father who fishes,

for he can teach his children patience,

that incredible waiting and watching

for bobbers to nod in affirmation of a hit,

to dive in confirmation of a bite.

Then, when life requires patience,

this father's child will know

to chew on a stalk of sourgrass and wait

until the time is right.

Blessed is the father who fishes,

for he can teach his children honesty,

even when bait swallows bait

and the stringer weighs more than the catch.

Then, when life offers temptations

to turn fingerlings into lunkers,

this father's child will know

that honor is worth more than transient praise.

Blessed is the father who fishes,

for he can teach his children to see,

not in the superficial sense,

but in a way that not only sees

but understands hidden lessons

of trout swimming against the current,

of geese winging toward warmer climes

before winter's chill sets in.

Then when this father's child faces storms of his own,

he'll recall lessons of wings against the wind

and will stay strong.

Blessed is the man who fishes,

for he can teach his children to listen

to quiet things,

like the plop! of a bullfrog into a lake of glass

or the sound of a smooth stone skipping over ripples,

the whir of a dragonfly's wings,

the buzzing of a cicada,

and his children will be quiet

when the still, small voice of God speaks.

Blessed is the man who fishes--

and blessed are his children

[This poem won first place in the National Federation of State Poetry Society's Winner's Circle Award]

I must tell you the story of "Blessed Is the Father Who Fishes."

In 1987, I was concluding my first year of teaching. One of my colleagues in the English department had asked to read another of my poems, "Blessed Is the Woman Who Knows of Apples," for a Mothers' Day program at her church. The congregation loved it and asked her to read one dedicated to fathers for their special day the next month. She came up to me in the cafeteria, where I was on lunch duty.

"Do you have a poem for Fathers' Day?"

"Well . . . uh . . . I don't have one, yet, but give me time to work on it." She smiled and nodded as she walked away. As I walked around the cafeteria, trying to catch someone launching ripe olives at a classmate, I thought of Bob a dear, Godly man from my church.

Bob loved to do five things: tease my teen daughters, play harmonica (he had a whole suitcase full of them, and he won just about every competition he entered), roost and crow with his buddies over coffee at Richards' Restaurant every morning, fish daily (even when he had to use an auger to drill through thick ice), and eat the fish he caught. And everything he did was "as unto the Lord."

Bob was the inspiration for this poem. By the time my duty sentence for that day was finished, so was the poem. I typed it up and handed it to the teacher to read on Fathers' Day.

A few years later, I entered it in the national competition cited above. Shortly before Bob went off to go fishing with the Lord in Heaven, I visited him and his wife. Framed and hanging on the wall, right above where he would sit on the floor to clean his catch of the day, was the poem.

"But Crowds Make Me Nervous!"

2010-08-11T17:18:00.000-05:00

Writer Karla Akins, pastor's wife and biker chick

We writers generally are a solitary lot. We like our scribe caves. Then once a year or so, we tentatively inch our way into the public, eyes squinting against the light of day, and make our various ways to a gathering place for the ACFW conference. And we're supposed to schmooze with several hundred of our kind as if we were socialists--I mean socialites. Well, it just isn't that easy. At least not for some.

Okay. I happen to be a professional raconteur. I've told to audiences of all sizes, from 1 to several hundred. But I still tend to get the jitters when I have to mingle among the masses. (It's easier when I'm in character.)

Several people new to the ACFW conference scene expressed their concerns on the newbie loop over the past couple days. They received excellent advice from more experienced colleagues. Karla Akins was one offering wise counsel. In fact, I liked it so much that I asked permission to post it here.

As a pastor's wife, I've learned a few tricks about handling crowds:

a. Be prayed up. If I face a crowd prayed up, it's so much easier. Ask God to give you an extra measure of grace for that moment/day/event.

b. Deep breaths, and keep water with you to sip on. Water lubricates the brain and keeps those neurons firing properly.

c. Keep the focus off myself. I'm not there just for myself. I'm also there to be a blessing. If I think more about blessing others than my comfort, it makes it much easier. It wasn't convenient for Jesus to go to the cross. Think of the anxiety he faced and overcame just for us!

d. Christ died for people, not writing caves. I see people as Jesus with skin on. (He gave me that idea, I take no credit for it whatsoever.)

e. Plan your exit path. Figure out where the doors are and how you can make a polite exit if you just have to get out of there.

f. As Cynthia said, sit on the edges. Again, the exit path needs to be considered.

g. Positive self-talk is important. Don't blow this event out of proportion in your mind. Very few people that I know of have died going to a banquet. (I actually haven't met anyone personally whose banquet killed them.)

h. This is just another step in growing toward your career as a writer. People matter more than anything, and they are going to want to meet you when you're published! So, just pretend you're in boot camp for when it's time to meet all your fans and sign all those books! :-)

i. Again, I reiterate: be a blessing. So often we think it's all about us, and it's not. There is someone at conference that needs to meet you. God is sending us there to help one another and reach out to one another. Who knows whose life you will miss out on changing forever if you stay in your room?

j. HAVE FUN! :-) And don't forget to find me! Depending on how I'm feeling that day, I might just be the one sitting by a door! :-)

Love,
Karla Akins

Thank you so much, Karla, for graciously allowing me to post your advice.

Gentle reader, have you attended a major conference? What were your concerns? How did you deal with those? How did it turn out? Please click "Comments" to respond. Share your story and advice.

Write on!
Because of Christ,
Sharon

A Funny Thing Happened on My Way to Sleep

2010-08-10T07:38:00.000-05:00

I had an epiphany! One of those miraculous "Aha!" moments. The kind that make you flip your eyelids open, sit bolt upright, and holler, "Eureka! Why didn't I think of that before?"

If you read yesterday's post, you saw that I swore off (that's off, not at) one-sentences. Given them up as a futile exercise. Thrown them under the truck. Declared them impossible. The pressure was relieved for me because I had decided to buck tradition and forgo them.

Then, just as I finished my evening Bible study and slipped the black satin ribbon between the pages, I knew exactly how the one-sentence for Up the Rutted Road should read. No more tinkering. No more tweaking. It's done.

NOTE: Barbara Scott, senior acquisitions editor for fiction at Abingdon Press, wrote an excellent article about one-sentences, and that piece helped switch on the lightbulb. Hopefully, I'll get to try it out on her at the upcoming ACFW conference.

Winding up to Pitch

2010-08-09T09:31:00.000-05:00

Everywhere you look these days, you see American Christian Fiction Writers practicing their elevator pitches on their family, friends--and enemies, for that matter.

Okay. Not really. But if you happen to wander across my path, I will buttonhole you to hear my pitches for Up the Rutted Road and The Second Cellar. Practice may not make perfect, but it sure can't hurt. The more familiar one is with the pitch, the easier (theoretically) it will be to deliver with confidence to agents and editors.

In just over five weeks (EEK!), hundreds of us, representing myriad genres, will gather at the Hyatt Regency in Indianapolis for the biggest event of the ACFW year. Hugs, squeals, and jitters will abound, as will clusters of writers practicing those pitches right up until the last minute. We've been testing our one-sentences and one-paragraphs online for nearly a month now.

Finally, my elevator pitches are honed and toned to where I can live with them. (I'm not sure that a writer ever is totally satisfied with his or her work.) It's nice to know that the editors and agents understand our angst, since many of them also write.

A multi-pubbed writer friend told me that she read her pitches. "I knew I'd be too nervous to do them justice," she said. "I'd forget something important." Makes sense to me.

I've given up on the one-sentence pitches. My first manuscript is essentially an episodic-narrative hybrid (think Little House on the Prairie, Mary Poppins, The Wind in the Willows, Huckleberry Finn, and many other classics of children's lit). The second has a plot and sub-plot. A paragraph pitch consisting of three or four sentences that can be presented in 15 - 25 seconds works well for me.

Gotta run! I see someone who . . .

Excuse me! Excuse me! Could I have a moment of your time? Sure. Go ahead and order your grande bold. Sugar? Two percent? Two pitches?

Why I Dislike Blogger

2010-08-09T07:48:00.002-05:00

One of these days, I will take the time to move this blog to another site because I loathe Blogger. I can spend interminable hours trying to get the page to look the way I want, but Blogger will not submit to my wishes. Look to the right sidebar. You'll notice under the "About Me" section that some of the type is a nice, readable aqua while around it is navy type that doesn't show up against the charcoal background. I have just spent a half hour trying to get it all the same. (Later note: I just tried again, succeeding in part, but the Scripture remains navy. One can always hope that it will work on another day . . .)

Further, it leaves large, gaping spaces between paragraphs, spaces that cannot be deleted. What I'm left with is an amateurish blog. For that, I apologize to you, dear reader.

Are you considering starting a blog? I've heard good reports from some Wordpress people.

The Chronicles of Narnia: The Voyage of the Dawn Treader - Trailer 2 [Of...

2010-08-05T18:06:00.000-05:00

Funtastic Friday

2010-07-30T10:16:00.004-05:00

Apparently, I write The Second Cellar in the style of James Joyce (left), but Up the Rutted Road like Stephen King (right). At least, those are the results of "I Write Like" analysis. Click on over there and try it out. I wouldn't take it too seriously, if I were you--I'm certainly not--but it's a fun diversion for a Friday.

Note to my critique partners: One of you also writes like James Joyce, while another favors Stephen King.

Fellow writers, what does the analysis reveal about your style? Do you agree with the results? Why or why not? How accurate do you think this tool is? Please respond by clicking "Comments."

Two Days + Two Days = Two One-Sheets

2010-07-29T20:00:00.000-05:00

Like many of my colleagues in American Christian Fiction Writers (ACFW), I'm scrambling to get ready for the convention coming up in September. (See the ad in the right sidebar of this page.) Usually, it's held in places far away from the heartland, but this year it is in my backyard, making it accessible. I know of several Hoosier and Buckeye writers who are also ecstatic.

I'm making a list and checking it thrice to make sure everything is quite precise. After registering, I carefully chose sessions and agent appointments (praying all the while that I get the ones I need). I designed and ordered business cards.

The awards dinner, a semi-formal affair, had me in a quandary until I talked it over with fellow writers who have attended several conferences. They set my mind at ease by telling me that, yes, while some don formal gowns and tuxes, others wear their Sunday best, and our Anabaptist brothers and sisters maintain their usual simple, modest elegance.

Now that the preliminaries are out of the way, the real work of preparing for a conference of this magnitude commences. For the past four days, I have been fairly incommunicado, avoiding the telephone and time-gobblers like email, Facebook, and Twitter. I've huddled over my keyboard and written, re-written, and re-rewritten copy for one-sheets. When I began conference prep, they weren't even on my to-do list. It's something of a futile exercise, since, from what I've read, most editors and agents won't accept them at conferences, trying to keep their paper load to a minimum. They may peruse it briefly, but will likely hand it back. Nonetheless, we need to have a few on hand. Just in case.

Reader response: Are you attending the ACFW conference this year? What concerns you most about getting ready for it? Please click "Comments" to respond. I look forward to hearing from you.

Racing through Summer

2010-07-25T21:09:00.001-05:00

This has been one very busy summer. In late May, I began preparing Bible lessons for a mission trip. In June, several from my church joined other 1Way Ministries team members in Arizona, where we held vacation Bible schools in various villages of the Tohono O'odham Indian Nation. What a great joy that was! Even the 113-degree days couldn't wilt the enthusiasm of the team or the kids. I'll confess to shedding more than a few tears when it was time to leave.

Once back in Indiana, I made ready for our own VBS, as well as for a few upcoming storytelling gigs. My original plan was to prepare the same set of biblical accounts for both VBSes, but God changed those plans. (Storytelling has taught me to be flexible, a skill that comes in handy when trying to follow the Lord's leading. He knows best the composition of each audience.)

The next big thing on my Summer 2010 list is the ACFW Conference, coming up in September. This will be my first time to attend, and I can hardly wait. But one doesn't sit idly by, checking off the days until the downtown Indianapolis Hyatt Regency throws open its doors to us. Judging from the emails on the ACFW loops, Christian writers around the world are working wildly to prepare. There are elevator pitches to be composed, one-sentences to be written, business cards to order, one-sheets and synopses to obsess over--and for crying out loud, what earrings should I wear to the awards dinner? [gasp for breath]

Expect to see at least a few blog entries related to the conference. It's cathartic, so please be patient. I've learned from seasoned writers--those who already have an agent and have multiple books published--that they too get nervous at the prospects of conference. It's key to focus that eager anticipation into productive enterprises. As for agents and editors, they really are "just folks." I keep telling myself that over and over.

Oh, the Places I Will Go

2010-07-14T12:56:00.001-05:00

Read Teresa's story at Make Way Partners

When I begin a writing project, I seldom know where the research will lead me. I'm a hybrid plotter/pantser. In other words, I know the general path I will take, but I try to be open to the leading of the Lord to alter my course. He did that as I wrote my first novel manuscript, and He's doing it with this work-in-progress.

I write middle-grade novels primarily. Even in the case of fiction, for it to ring true, it must spring from truth. This work, The Second Cellar, does that. At its beginning, however, I did not imagine that my journey would take me to Darfur and beyond, albeit vicariously.

A friend involved with foreign and domestic missions, upon learning about my wip, is serving as a liaison between me and the founder of another ministry--this one involved in rescuing children and women from modern-day slavery in Islamic countries. I look forward to talking with such a courageous woman. As any interviewer worth her ink knows to do, I will first thoroughly study her website and blog, so that I won't waste time asking questions she already has answered on those sites. Such perusal usually gives rise to other deeper, more probing questions.

Another likely stop on my research odyssey will be a visit to the immigration office in Indianapolis. Only the Lord knows where else I will travel in my quest.

Dear writing colleagues, what strange and unexpected turns has your research taken you? Please click "Comments" and tell of your experience.

Write on!

Because of Christ,
Sharon

For the Sake of the Children You Love, Read This Now

2010-07-05T12:18:00.000-05:00

This is a life-saving article. You don't want to read it one day too late.

Double O, No! Part 2

2010-07-04T18:09:00.001-05:00

NPR's "Weekend Edition: Sunday" (July 3) presented an interesting segment about the children of the Russian spies. Just in case . . . just in case you happen to be the writer who is plotting a tale about this kerfuffle, I've posted it for you to hear here.

Write on!

Have a Blessed, Safe, Meaningful Independence Day!

2010-07-03T18:09:00.001-05:00

Please take time to consider what this hard-won freedom has cost through the three centuries of our existence. Ponder also what our freedom in Christ cost the Savior.

Double O, No! What about the Kids?

2010-07-02T20:27:00.001-05:00

Imagine what it would be like to wake up one morning to the news that your next door neighbor, the guy who borrowed your hedge trimmer last week and has yet to return it, has been arrested for being a Russian spy. Chances are pretty good you won't be getting the trimmer back. And isn't this the week his wife is supposed to drive the kids to soccer practice? Well, she's been arrested, too. What about the kiddos? Where are they? What's happening to them? Who are they? Apparently, they weren't born where they thought they were. If you think you're confused, try to imagine what it's like for them. It's challenging enough to be a teen without learning that you've been living a lie--one contrived by your very own parents. Or are they? Is that part of the lie?

As a mother, grandmother, educator, Sunday school teacher, former kid, and regular compassionate person, my heart cries out to those children. I wish I could somehow shelter them from all the flashing cameras, probing news reporters, and uncertainties they face.

But as a writer of middle-grade fiction, my imagination slammed into overdrive as soon as the story broke. What fuel for a series! I'm not the one to write that collection. I know that. But I'm absolutely certain that some writer out there already is drawing snowflakes and plotting scenes, fleshing out characters and developing minor and major crises.

Open wide the back door and kick out the vampires, pseudo-angels, wizards, zombies, and ghouls. Here come the spies!

The Birth of a Book

2010-06-12T13:36:00.002-05:00

~Gran'ma, where do books come from?~

~Well, my child, sit down and I'll tell you. First, the spark of an idea is conceived long, long before the book can be held in your hand. It could take months, years or even decades for the idea to germinate, incubate and grow. The idea might spring from a feeling in the air, a random memory sparked by the fragrance of wisteria or night-blooming jasmine, a child's giggle as he somersaults through a bed of spearmint, a random comment overheard in the grocery check-out line--or an old photograph such as these.~

Dear fellow writers, from whence come your ideas? Have you ever looked into the face of someone in an old photo and been inspired to write about that person, known or unknown? Please leave a comment describing that time.

Hot Bookish Summers

2010-06-06T16:55:00.001-05:00

"No more pencils! No more books! No more teacher's dirty looks!"

We all chanted it as we erupted out of the school building, final grades clutched in our sweaty hands, and into the sunshine on the last day of school. Summer spread before us like an unsullied sheet of Goldenrod paper, an adventure story yet to be written. But reading, writing, and Goldenrod paper were far from our minds as we escaped the building.

I spent most of my elementary school days living in a cramped three-room apartment on the third floor of an old building at the corner of Broad and Fourteenth streets--one of the two main intersections of my hometown. The nearest other child lived two blocks away. We never had a telephone, and I was in fifth grade before we got a television set, a boxy Philco console--used, of course.

Hey, don't feel sorry for me. Two blocks from that little flat was the New Castle-Henry County Public Library. And I had my very own borrower's card. The library opened at 8 a.m., so at 7:45 on the first full day of summer vacation I showed up, waiting impatiently under the mulberry tree
for that click that would indicate the unlocking of the door.

"I want to join the book club," I said to Miz Catherine Day, the children's librarian.

"Of course, you do, Sharon. Do you think you can read 20 books this summer?" She struggled to keep her round face from splitting into a grin. "That's how many segments are on the bookworm."

I think I rolled my eyes. Discreetly. Of course.

In those simpler days, they didn't have "summer reading programs" with lots of prizes, refreshments, jugglers, and face painting. No fancy themes, either. They had books, and that was enough. Miz Day handed me a sheet of paper on which was printed a smiling, cheesy-looking bookworm.

"Every time you read a book at or above your grade level, you get to lick and stick on a segment of the worm."

"I know."

"I know you know." She smiled ever so slightly. "Be sure you read them, because I'll question you about them."

"I know."

"I know you know. I just have to tell everyone that."

By week's end, scores of papers just like mine were displayed behind the circulation desk. Apparently there were a lot of kids from all over Henry County, Indiana, who liked to read. I was a competitive little cuss, so I kept a close eye on the other bookworms.

At least once a day throughout the summer, I went to the library, lugging towers of books--orange Bobbs-Merrill biographies, Andrew Lang's color fairytale books, The Black Stallion and its sequels, the Bobbsey Twins series, books about different countries and cultures, and more. I completed my bookworm quickly.

One summer, Miz Day departed from the bookworm idea. We collected author cards, instead. I liked that better than the larvae because once I had all the cards, I could play the game. Further, I learned about some of my favorite writers.

Miz Day has been in the presence of the Lord for many years now. (I hope she's not trying to categorize the glories of Heaven according to Dewey.) Those hot bookish summer days live as sweet memories to this writer and raconteur.

How I would love it if one of these days some child would walk up to a children's librarian somewhere and say, "I read Up the Rutted Road. Can I put a sticker on my sheet?"

I would hope that the librarian would ask some questions:

"Who is the author?"

"Sharon Kirk Clifton."

"Good. What terrible thing happens to the girl in the book that causes her to run off into the mountains?"

"Oh, that's easy. Her--" Shhhhhh, child. Don't give it away.

[Gentle reader, what are your memories about summer reading? What whetted your appetite for books? What were some of your favorites from childhood? How have the books you read then influenced your life now? Please click on "Comments" and share your answers.]

Synopsis: I Did It!

2010-05-31T13:44:00.000-05:00

Well. At least I think I did it. Knowing me, I'll continue to peck at it, snipping out this word or that phrase.

I wrote the book. That was hard. I wrote the query letter. That was harder. I wrote the synopsis. That was the hardest.

Why makes synopsis writing so difficult? In the first place, it's a challenge to write tight, tight, tighter while retaining the essence of your style and the tone of the work. Throughout the writing of the novel, we are adjured, "Show; don't tell." Suddenly it becomes, "Tell; don't show," because there's no room for the latter. Beloved similies and images end up on the surgery room floor, bleeding and mangled. Even some alliteration is left lying lifeless alongside the other carnage.

Secondly, advice contradicts advice. Some say single space; others, double. (So I compromised with 1.5 line spacing.) Some say the synopsis should be written in present tense, regardless of the tense of the tale; others say past. (The former gets the most votes, and that's the way one normally writes about literature, so I went with present tense.) It seems that every "expert" has his own way of formatting the first page.

One thing that most agree on is the importance of the synopsis. The majority of editors and agents require one. A critique partner who makes a habit of placing highly in prestigious writing competitions says that the value of the synopsis is that it allows the powers that be to see if the writer has a strong plot line to hold the story together.

My conclusion, after perusing many articles and guidelines, is this:

If the agent or editor to whom one wishes to submit gives specific guidelines, follow them to the letter. Heed the jots and tittles.
Do your homework. Read guidelines and advice columns, realizing that they will contradict one another. Adapt what you learn to make it work for you.
Write tight. Then revise it to make it tighter.
Format it so that it reflects the professionalism of the writer.

Here are some links to jump-start your research:

"How to Write a Synopsis" by Marg Gilks
"Writing a Novel Synopsis"; Fiction Writer's Connection
"How to Write a Novel Synopsis" by Chuck Sambuchino, Guide to Literary Agents (Editor's Blog)
"Mastering the Dreaded Synopsis: Condensing Your Novel" by Lee Masterson, Fiction Factor

Visit the blogs I list in the right column, also, since several of them discuss synopses.

Fellow writers, editors, and agents, if you happen to do me the honor of a visit to this blog, would you be so kind as to click on "Comments" and leave some of your own advice for those of us who struggle with the dreaded synopsis writing? Have you gleaned some jewel from a conference, workshop, or article? Please share. (By the way, I've never heard anyone say, "Synopsis? Piece o' cake!")

Write on!

All in the Name of Research

2010-05-27T18:54:00.002-05:00

Wednesday was an ordinary day down on the banks of the Ohio in southeastern Indiana. The sky over Madison was a brilliant cyan punctuated with puffs of cloud. A gentle breeze carried the fragrance of southern magnolias down the historic streets, through secluded courtyards, and around early nineteenth-century homes.

It would have been a perfect day to stay home and clean the bathroom, catch up on the laundry, brush up on my transformational grammar, and dust doodads, indeed, but I felt compelled to leave all that behind. After all, I'm a hard-working writer with research begging to be done. So I collected a couple companions and we headed off for the river town to visit the library, locate a good site for a second-hand bookstore for the aunt of my protagonist, get a feel for the neighborhood, and take some reference photos.

Enjoy some of the photos that will hopefully enrich the sense of "place" in The Second Cellar, my middle-grade historical fantasy in progress. (If you've followed this blog for long, you've already seen several reference photos for both of my manuscripts.)

I selected this cream brick home across from the library to be the site of the used-book store.

Kristi Rice, Photographer

Just a Brief Note about LOST

2010-05-27T12:33:00.001-05:00

When Lost first began, I was a fan. It was a captivating concept. The literary motifs intrigued me. I watched until the scriptwriters incorporated illicit affairs among some of the characters. In other words, I didn't watch it for long, though I continued to maintain a distant interest in the general storyline.

Dystel & Goderich Literary Management cites an interesting article on today's blog. Please follow this link to the article:
'Lost' Reading List: the show's creators discuss literary influences from Stephen King to Flannery O'Connor

I noted motifs from classical literature such as Homer's The Odyssey and the Holy Bible, as well.

Mama's Got Rhythm

2010-05-27T09:57:00.000-05:00

This past Saturday, "Jack's Mama" told her far-flung, homespun highland tales at the Ohio River Valley Folk Festival in Madison, Indiana. (Jack's Mama is my pioneer mountain woman character through whom I tell stories from southern Appalachian oral tradition.)

At the conclusion of one set, two young men, probably in their early 20s, told me how much they enjoyed the show. "I love to listen to you tell," one said. "There is a rhythm, a cadence, to your speech. I love your pacing."

No one has ever said that before, but I really like it. The rhythm comes naturally to me, I suppose, but I do consciously pace the story. As a raconteur, I am very interactive with my audiences, working to draw each one into the tale. Pacing, working in tandem with the rhythm, is an important tool toward that end.

After the men left, I sat enjoying the balmy breeze coming off the river, and I thought about how storytelling compares with writing. Rhythm and pacing are essential to our writing, as well. If a sentence is grammatically and mechanically flawless but is choppy or awkward, it may give the reader pause. Of course, there may be times when we want to slow the reader down.

The storyteller knows when to speak slowly and deliberately for dramatic effect. The writer can accomplish the same thing by making each sentence a separate paragraph, for example. Or she may incorporate alliteration, a well-placed dash, or longer, more complex sentences.

At the high point of the action or scene, the storyteller's sentences may become very short, little more than a series of phrases or clauses. The writer does the same thing. Whether spoken or written, such techniques achieve the same results.

Many have told me that I use dramatic pause well. I can tolerate silence. And nothing grabs an audience's attention more quickly. Whether I speak softly or crescendo just before the pause, I have the full attention of each one when I fall silent and just look around at them, eyeball to eyeball.

Compare that effect to the writer's hook lines, particularly at chapters' ends. (Did those last two words slow you down a bit?) Christian writer Ramona K. Cecil presented a wonderful workshop in which she said we should not try to write a good hook at the end of a chapter, but, rather, we should end the chapter at a good hook. That statement helped me tremendously as a writer. Those hooks are the dramatic pauses of writing. Why dramatic? Because the listener/reader can hardly wait for the pause to end so that the story can move on. In the case of the reader, she wants to get that page turned as quickly as possible.

What a compliment that young man gave. Mama's got rhythm. Do you? Dear fellow writers, I hope you'll leave a comment telling about how you consciously incorporate rhythm and pacing in your writing. Examples are welcome.

Write on!

I'm Back!

2010-05-23T06:09:00.000-05:00

Dear Readers,

I've been on the road for awhile and unable to blog, but I'm back, so I will post a new entry, Lord willing, early this week. This one will be called "Mama's Got Rhythm!" Be sure to stop back, y'all.

Because of Christ,
Sharon

A Chat with Jennifer Hudson Taylor

2010-04-30T22:04:00.000-05:00

An interview with the author of Highland Blessings

1. What intrigued you about fifteenth century Scotland so that you chose it as the setting for Highland Blessings?

I’ve always thoroughly enjoyed history, but there is something romantically intriguing about the late Medieval period and the clan system of the highlands. I’m amazed at how the clans can fight among themselves, and yet, fiercely defend each other against the English and any outsiders.

2. How did you choose the setting?

The setting of the loch where Akira nearly drowns is from an area in a park where I used to practice running. I was on the Cross Country team in high school and ran several miles a day. The rest of the scenes were a combination of my research of Scotland and castles and my imagination.

3. Does the story line of this novel parallel a particular Biblical account?

No, if there is a biblical parallel, it was not a conscious decision on my part. I originally wrote Highland Blessings as a secular novel in 1998. I didn’t convert it to Christian fiction until 2006 after I discovered Kathleen Morgan’s novel, Embrace the Dawn. Once I realized there was such a thing as a Christian fiction Scottish Medieval, I was elated and determined to try and get mine published.

4. Which comes first, the plot, the place, or the people? Why?

The people. I can’t write a story unless I’ve created a character sketch of the main characters. I can create a plot around the characters, but I think it is the people that make the story. I think that is why I tend to love character driven novels like Jane Austen’s stories.

5. Which novel was the more difficult to research, Highland Blessings or Beloved Liberty, your book set in early nineteenth century South Carolina?

Beloved Liberty required the most research. The story idea is loosely based on my real family history from the actual genealogy research I conducted on my Hudson line. Then I had to research slavery laws for 1810. It takes place during the Regency period of England, but the setting is on a rural plantation in SC. Most of my southern plantation knowledge is either during the colonial period before 1800 or much later in the Victorian period between 1840-1865, so I had to do extensive research for 1810.

6. How did the research between the two differ? The writing?

The writing is very different as the two books contain different cultures, accents in the dialogue, and time periods. The vocabulary for Highland Blessings in 1473 is extremely limited compared to 1810, so in that regard Highland Blessings was harder to write. I had to keep looking up alternative words for those words that were not yet in existence. It was difficult to verify some of the clothing in 15th century Scotland. There are so few authentic references and most date from the late 16th century. For instance, the Scottish kilt as we know it today was not in existence until around 1725, nor wore the family clan tartan colors.

7. How do you develop your characters?

I develop a character sketch that includes physical traits and personality traits. Each character must have at least one spiritual flaw, and one personality flaw, if appropriate, even a physical flaw. In Highland Blessings, Akira MacKenzie is extremely tall for a woman, and she isn’t very fond of her auburn hair. In Beloved Liberty, Catherine Oakes has a mole on her cheek that she thinks is hideous, but the hero views it as a beauty mark. The last thing I establish is their background, their goals, and why they want to achieve them and how they will go about achieving those goals based on their personality and character.

8. How do you name your characters?

Names are very important. I use the Character Naming Sourcebook, and I sound out first and last names aloud. I run them by my husband. I even look up street names and small towns in the areas where the novel is set. I do this because lots of streets and towns are named after the local people and families in the area.

9. What is your writing regimen?

I don’t have a set schedule because I work another full-time job. I squeeze writing in between lunch hours, doctor visits, evenings, weekends, road trips while my husband drives, wherever and whenever I can. Sometimes I fear that my writing won’t be as good as others who have the opportunity to sit down and really concentrate and work on their novels throughout the day. Then I quit feeling sorry for myself and just deal with it.

10. What has surprised you most about the whole process, from inception of the idea to release of your debut novel?

When I first received the contract offer, the release date was a whole year and half away. I’m surprised at how fast that time passed.

11. What have you learned about God through this journey?

I’ve learned that God will help me in ways that I never imagined. He is with me the whole way and He inspires me through loved ones, inspirational verses, and dreams.

12. What advice do you have for unpubbed writers?

Never give up. Persevere and press through.

Thank you so much for taking the time out of your busy schedule to chat with us today. May God bless you with much writing success. We're really looking forward to your next novel.

Jennifer Hudson Taylor's Novel Debut: HIGHLAND BLESSINGS

2010-04-30T22:03:00.000-05:00

Publisher: Abingdon Press, Nashville, TN

Release: May 2010
299 pages; includes discussion guide

Back Cover:

Scotland, 1473. Highland warrior Bryce MacPhearson kidnaps Akira MacKenzie on her wedding day to honor a promise he made to his dying father. When he forces Akira to wed him, hoping to end a half-century feud between their clans, she struggles to overcome her anger and resentment. Yet her strength in the Lord becomes a witness to Bryce. But there is a traitor in their midst. . .and murder is the ultimate weapon.

First Sentence:

Akira MacKenzie willed her knees not to fail her.

I confess to a penchant for tartan historical romances. As I open the cover and turn to the first page of the first chapter, the bagpipes of my imagination begin to play and the bodhrans to pulse in some ancient Gaelic rhythm. And so it was as I opened Highland Blessings, Jennifer Hudson Taylor’s debut novel, and settled in for a good read.
But Taylor gives no quarter for such complacency. While the pipes begin their drone, the bodhran takes over, beating faster and faster until it sounds like the pounding of horses hooves—Bryce MacPhearson’s destrier, to be exact.
Bryce is an uninvited guest who invades the wedding party of spirited Akira MacKenzie and swoops the lass on to the back of his horse, as an eagle might rapture a field mouse. It is not love that inspires Bryce’s kidnapping, however, but a promise forced upon him by his dying father, chieftain of the MacPhearson clan, to fulfill a covenant with Akira’s father, the MacKenzie clan chieftain. The two clans have been locked in a bloody feud for half a century, and the patriarchs hoped that a marriage between the ruling families would quell the fighting.

The journey to the MacPhearson castle is a difficult one for Akira. Bryce’s men show their respect for him and their disdain for her. Bryce himself makes it clear that she is merely a pawn, an unwelcome obligation. Once they arrive at the castle, Akira is treated no better. MacPhearsons consider her presence an intrusion and demonstrate their hatred and distrust at every turn. Seeking solace, she finds her way to the chapel, where she can be alone with God. Even as she prays to return home, she submits to God’s will—whatever that may be.

Bryce, being the middle son, is not the intended bridegroom. Akira is to wed the MacPhearson chieftan, Evan, the oldest son, but when Evan meets an untimely death, the responsibility falls to Bryce. Akira refuses to consent to the marriage, so Bryce exercises his right to marry by proxy. Akira awakens one morning to learn that she is now the lady of the manor. Despite the circumstances of the marriage, Akira pledges her allegiance first to God and then to Bryce as her husband.

Though murder, deception, and betrayal stalk the halls of the castle, and a traitor who is no respecter of clans threatens the hard-won, tenuous peace between the MacPhearsons and the MacKenzies, Akira’s courage builds a bridge between fear and faith and woos Bryce to want to know more about the God she serves. She is a Christ-like figure in that she is willing to sacrifice herself to avoid further bloodshed. At one point, she performs an incredible act of forgiveness when she pleas for the life of one who nearly ended hers.

This fast-paced story left me gasping for air on more than one occasion. Taylor’s authentic descriptions of the highlands and life in the fifteenth century reflect meticulous research.

I thank Jennifer Hudson Taylor and Abingdon Press for the opportunity to review Highland Blessings, and I eagerly await the sequel Highland Sanctuary, slated for release on October 1, 2011.

COMING MAY 1, Just As I Promised

2010-04-26T09:00:00.003-05:00

Earlier this year, I received my first ARC (advanced reader copy) to read and review. It was Jennifer Hudson Taylor's debut novel Highland Blessings. Though the review and an interview with Taylor were completed at least two months ago, when I asked Abingdon Press if I could go ahead and post both, they said to hold it until the release date of May 1. I confess ignorance in such matters, since this is a new experience, but I kept my word, forcing myself to hold off for that magic date. Now, I see reviews everywhere I look. Perhaps my mistake was in asking Abingdon.

Though I am a novice at reviewing ARCs, I am not new to writing reviews and conducting in-depth interviews, as I did both on a regular basis as a newspaper journalist. I cordially invite you to return to this blog on May 1 to read both my review and interview with Jennifer.

Max Lucado Writes about Writing

2010-04-22T16:48:00.001-05:00

If you are a Christian writer, I adjure you to visit Max Lucado's website and read this most excellent article.

Leave Comments. I Can't.

2010-04-04T17:34:00.000-05:00

Like most bloggers, I love it when y'all leave comments. I try to respond to you in a timely manner. Unfortunately, Blogger has decided that I should not be able to stay signed in to my account, nor should I be permitted to respond to your comments. Please continue to comment and know that I read and value every note. Thank you.

Write on!
Because of Christ,
Sharon

At the Cross

2010-04-02T15:39:00.007-05:00

A poem for Good Friday

I huddle at the foot of the Cross,

My arms stretched to encompass it around,

My head bowed,

My eyes pinched so tightly they hurt.

Silent sobs wrack my being.

The men are gone.

The Brotherhood, save one, has forsaken the Master.

Other women stand,

Bow,

Lie prostrate nearby,

Each alone,

Forsaken,

Desperate,

Desolate.

I hear their weeping off in the distance,

At the perimeter of my own sorrow.

Roman soldiers stand silent,

Trying to understand,

Yet bound merely to a duty.

Scribes, Pharisees, Sadduccees

Cluster together and mutter into their self-righteous beards,

Rehearsing their excuses.

Their mumbling blends, segues into the rumbling of a gathering storm.

Messiah, on the Cross, lifts His head to Heaven.

With one last lingering remnant of strength,

He pushes against the spike that holds His feet,

Pulls up on the nails that pierce His wrists,

Draws in a gurgling breath,

Licks His lips to moisten them, to make speech possible,

And cries out to the Father Whose Face is turned away.

"It is finished!"

A pronouncement that will echo throughout Eternity.

I look up as His weary, abused head

Sinks

To His bosom,

Where so many children had rested their heads

And received His blessing.

A drop of His vermilion Blood

Rolls down one of the thorns

That comprises a crude crown.

In one interminable moment,

I watch it

Fall;

I tip my face downward in shame,

Knowing my own unworthiness,

Yet yearning for His anointing.

That Sacred Drop

Splashes on my head and covers me over.

The Earth begins to tremble.

"Dear Lucky Agent" Contest Features MG and YA Fiction

2010-03-31T15:42:00.002-05:00

Chuck Sambuchino, who writes the Guide to Literary Agents Editor's Blog, announced the newest DLG contest today. Read all about it on the blog.

Blogger Comments

2010-03-20T10:27:00.000-05:00

I'm trying to respond to comments made, but Blogger won't allow me to do so, oddly enough. Thank you to those of you who have written comments, nonetheless.

Write on!

Sharon

A Boy, a Book, and an Old Yeller Dog

2010-03-17T09:13:00.003-05:00

[Note: Blogger has decided that today it will not necessarily retain my paragraph breaks uniformly. Sorry.]

I am so pleased to welcome guest blogger Kristi Rice today. How do the books children read affect their lives? Read Kristi's story and find out.

My "Yeller" Dog
I can't fathom the idea of not having any children in the single digit age group. As of today, that is exactly what has happened. Where did the time go? My St. Patty's Day boy has turned ten. We thought we would do something really special to mark this occasion and so decided to give him a pup--a yeller pup.

It all started this summer when my Ethan's cat ran away for the zilynth time. Ethan decided he was fed up with cats. Dogs were the way to go. My response? Heck no! I just had brand new carpet laid. No way were we going to house break a new puppy!

Then, my big mistake. See, the fall is my absoulte favorite time of year. I am an outdoor girl. I still love to climb into big old trees with a good book. I decided it would be sooo nostalgic to take my children along with me and read a classic novel. "How about Old Yeller? I thought. Well, let me tell you, it worked out just as I had it in my mind--no, better. My children loved the book. Ethan especially loved it. At the end of the novel, he looked up at me with a tear streaked face and said, "Momma, I want a yeller dog." Oh boy, if that didn't pull at my heart strings.

That brings us to this past Saturday. I put out a search to see if anyone knew where I could find one. A fellow homeschooler emailed me that he had golden retriever pups ready to take home.

It was road trip time! My daughter Olivia and I took Ethan in the car. (My husband would have come, too, but he had to attend to some other business.) We told Ethan we were taking him to get his birthday present.

His eyes lit up. "Are we going to Wal-Mart or Target?" Olivia and I laughed. Neither, was our reply. We told him he would never guess in a bizillion years where we were going.

When we pulled into the home of the dog owners, Ethan asked, "Where are we?"

"You don't remember this place?" I said. He, of coarse, had never been there.

"Uh...kinda..."
The front door opened, and a very smiley man invited us in.

"Ethan doesn't know why he is here," I said. "He just knows he is getting his birthday present." The man's smile broadend even wider. He said he had to go put the big dog away and then we could take a look.

As the man walked away, Ethan looked up at me with the same face I remember from right after we had read Old Yeller. My heart melted, and tears burned my eyes.

"I'm gettin' a puppy?" He spoke softly as tears leaked down his face. Oh boy, I lost it. We both stood there in this stranger's kitchen weeping. The man returned with a look of bewilderment on his face. I couldn't even speak to tell him what was happening. I'm not sure that I would have been able to explain it to him anyway.

Ethan went in to the kennel room, and within five minutes he had snuggled up to one "yeller" pup in particular. Now that pup, which he named Lady Bella Elizabeth Rice, is living in our home.

We have already had some pretty exciting adventures which I hope to write about soon.

Do, do tell us more, Kristi, as the days go by. Guests of this blog may visit Kristi's blog, also.

Now, gentle readers, would you be so kind as to comment about a book from your childhood that significantly impacted your life? If you are a writer of children's literature, how do you hope that your work will influence your readers?

What's in a Name? You'd Better Find Out!

2010-03-12T10:36:00.003-06:00

Though this entry is a short one, it carries an essential message for writers. Simply put, be careful what you name your characters. Check potential names on the Internet.

While sipping my Plantation Mint tea this morning, I learned about a middle-grade novel--published by a Christian house--that sounded interesting. Since I write mg, I try to stay alert regarding that genre. I clicked on the blog link that had the author's interview. When I saw the protagonist's name, I was startled. No. Shocked. It was the name of a 1980s sit-com actress who was released from the show because of her heavy drug usage. Further, in a tell-all biography, the actress wrote of a long-term incestuous relationship with her father. Not exactly the baggage you'd want your pre-teen main character to lug around--Christian or not.

Exactly what is in a name? Check it out before your character gets stuck with it, and you have to be reminded of your oversight every time you crack open the cover.

Tomorrow! Tomorrow! I Love You, Tomorrow!

2010-03-05T07:00:00.000-06:00

Indiana ACFW writers will gather in Indianapolis for a state meeting. I can hardly wait to meet some of my fellow scribes and members of the Body of Christ whom I've gotten to know only through Facebook and the ACFW loop.

Review: SWEET BY AND BY by Patricia Hermes

2010-03-04T15:22:00.001-06:00

Published by: HarperCollins Publishers, New York, NY, 2002
192 pages

First line: "Tell me about the snowstorm," I said.

If your taste in middle-grade novels runs toward fast-paced adventures, this is not the book for you. It is a quiet, rather sad, very sweet book.

Eleven-year-old Blessing lives with her grandmother, Monnie, up on the mountain. The two make beautiful music together. When Monnie tucks her fiddle under her chin and Blessing lifts her voice to sing, everyone stops talking and scoots closer to hear. Together they make the moutains echo with "The Old Churchyard," "Bar'bry Allen," "Amazing Grace," and "Sweet By and By."

But Monnie's health is declining, and Blessing must confront two terrible fears: Monnie could die, and "Wolf" Cotter, the social worker, could take control of Blessing's life, deciding where and with whom she would live.

Sweet By and By explores the relationships forged among Blessing, Monnie, and the mountain community. It also reveals the struggle Blessing has to gain some control over her own destiny.

Patricia Hermes is the author of nearly fifty books for readers from early middle grades through young adult, as well as two nonfiction books for adults. Her books have won many awards and recognitions, including American Library Association Best Book, Smithsonian Notable Book, and C.S. Lewis Honor Book. She also has won many state awards, four of them for the novel You Shouldn't Have to Say Goodbye.

Review: RUBY HOLLER by Sharon Creech

2010-02-26T06:32:00.003-06:00

Published by: Joanna Cotler Books, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers, New York, NY, 2002
310 pages

First line: Dallas leaned far out of the window, his eyes fixed on a bird flying lazily in the distance.

From now on, I will include the first sentence of any book I review. We are told as writers that the job of that first sentence is to hook the reader so that they have no choice but to continue reading. By the time the reader finishes the first page, the hook should be deeply embedded in the gristle of the reader's jaw. That just didn't happen with this book.

As a child, I found myself reading a lot of first pages before tossing the books aside when those first pages failed to tantalize. At some point around junior high, I decided that was unfair and began reading the first one hundred pages before deciding whether or not to continue. So I did with this book.

Ruby Holler is a book of characters. I hear you. You're saying, "Sharon, all novels have characters." That's not what I mean. These people--on and all--are, to quote Merriam-Webster Online, people "marked by notable or conspicuous traits."

The protagonists are a set of orphaned twins, Dallas and Florida, who were abandoned as infants, left in a box on the steps of an orphanage operated by a couple named Trepid (think Miss Hannigan, Carol Burnett's character, in Annie). The Trepids treated all children in their care cruelly, but they especially disliked Dallas and his sister Florida, whom the Trepids called "the trouble twins."

If a line can be drawn between sympathy and pity, I drew that line, for I felt sorry for the twins, but it took awhile to truly sympathize with them. They were unlikable children who seemed bent on destroying everything around them that could be destroyed.

When Tiller and Sairy Morey, a couple of "old people," arrange for the trouble twins to spend the summer with them, Dallas and Florida expect more of the same treatment. They're astounded that the Moreys seem prepared to forgive any mischief they do.

Usually the foster parents (all of them quite bizarre)--and certainly the Trepids--dole out cruel punishments for misbehavior: hours of solitary confinement in dank, dark cellars with nothing for company but hairy spider, lizards, snakes, and "putrid" rats; scant rations of tasteless, meatless food; and days of back-breaking, heavy labor such as well-digging. The kids are baffled by the love the Moreys give them. There seems to be no limit to forgiveness, even when the children break two precious, hand-carved objects, split the railing of the front porch, cut down Tiller's favorite maple tree, and hack a "window" hole in the barn "to let in more light."

Love and forgiveness are streams that run through Ruby Holler. Though no one ever says, "I love you," it is expressed by the things the residents do for one another, even the trouble twins.

The book ends leaving a lot of questions unanswered, inviting a sequel. For example, who is Z, a character who jumps in and out of the story, gaining prominence toward the end? Are his suspicions about Dallas and Florida correct? Where is the twins' mother? Why did she desert them?

Ruby Holler can be understood on several levels, making it an excellent choice for multi-generational book discussion groups. In my days as a classroom teacher and gifted/talented facilitator, I often lead such groups that were made up of both the students and their parents.

Sharon Creech is the author of the Newbery Medal winner Walk Two Moons and the Newbery Honor winner The Wanderer. Ruby Holler was a Young Hoosier Book Award winner in 2005. Creech has written many other books, as well.

Taking a Breather--Well, Not Really

2010-02-23T18:29:00.003-06:00

I haven't posted anything for a few days, but I've been busy with writerly work, nonetheless. Even though my first manuscript was "complete," I gave it one more perusal before hitting the "Send" button, making a tweak-tweak here and a tweak-tweak there. Of course I continue to write on my WIP, and I'm getting ready to lead "The Essential Five-Paragraph Essay" workshop for a group of home educators and their students. (I always ask that the parent who teaches English attend and participate in this one.)

Recently, I read my first ARC, and I plan to write a review for it this week. Please stop back to read that. After today's trip to the library, I have three middle-grade novels to read: Ruby Holler by Sharon Creech (Joanna Cotler Books, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers); Sweet By and By by Patricia Hermes (HarperCollins); and North by Night by Katherine Ayres (Delacorte Press). Can't wait to start turning those pages!

Write on!

Oh, the Places You Will Go!

2010-02-19T08:34:00.002-06:00

A beehive oven like the one in my story's summer kitchen

Today is a great day. As I start this entry, it is 8:30 a.m. and already so much has happened. The day began with a request from an editor for a full of a manuscript. Hooray! Then I got started on some research into Federal-style architecture and furniture, hoping to find some good photos to help in the development of my setting of place (see earlier post). Whereas I have the lovely home I can visit, it's nearly an hour's drive, and I wanted references I could keep handy. I found online exactly what I needed, including a video of Bob Villa's tour through "my house." I bookmarked it so I can walk through with Bob any time I wish.

The cellar door to "my house," though mine has a latch

Last night, or rather, very early this morning, I found some old Civil War correspondence online. What a great way to familiarize oneself with the language, phrases, idioms, events, and customs of the day!

Research is a wonderful thing. One never knows in what diverse directions it will go.

Comments, Please! I Just Love Comments!

2010-02-17T10:38:00.001-06:00

Thank you so much for visiting my blog. Be sure to read the comments that other guests leave. I do, and I always learn something new. While you're on the "Comments" page, go ahead and share your own ideas and experiences. Write on!

Because of Christ,

Sharon

A Sense of Place

2010-02-16T06:15:00.006-06:00

My friends live in my house. Actually, they own and live in the home that is the model for Aunt Becky's house in my work-in-progress. I've tweaked the layout a little to conform to the needs of the story, since, as far as they or I know, there are no hidden passageways in their house. Further, in my story, the summer kitchen is still standing, whereas the one that once stood behind the c. 1840s Federal-style brick home was destroyed by a storm years ago, long before my friends bought the place.

With much love and care, these friends of mine have created garden spaces around the property, places to 'light 'n' tie, dream, imagine, and contemplate the beauty of God's Creation, so as I altered the house to suit my WIP, those lovely gardens worked their way into the story.

As important as it is for me to thoroughly know my characters (see blog entry for Sunday, Feb. 14), I should also know the setting inside and out. If I don't have an actual house to reference, I sketch rough house or building layouts and maps of the landscape. Though I'm no artist, I sometimes draw a scene, as well. If I cannot see it, hear it, feel it, smell it, and sometimes taste it--experience it--then I probably will not be able to make it real to my readers. Taking such measures in the pre-writing process helps to keep things straight. In the case of my WIP, the library is on the west side of the house that faces north. I dare not forget that and put it where the parlor is.

Like historical romance writer Ramona K. Cecil, if at all possible, I go to the location that I'm researching--or one similar to it if it is fictiional--and walk the area, listen to the birds sing, smell the air, study the physical features, and feel the earth of that place beneath my feet. Early in my writing, I heard that if western writer Louis L'Amour said that a particular boulder stood at a certain fork in the road, it was there, unless someone had moved it since he visited the place. He ascertained that he knew his setting well. He conveyed that to his readers. Even if the setting is a total fiction, I should be as familiar with it as Tolkien was with Middle Earth and Lewis was with Narnia.

Fellow scribes, to what lengths do you go to know your setting? Click on "Comments" below to share.

By the way, my friends are the proprietors of New Creation Daylilies, located at the heart of a triangle formed by Indianapolis, Cincinnati, and Louisville. Click the link embedded in this paragraph to learn more. I thank them for granting me permission to post some of the photos above.

Sick of Snow? Haiku This!

2010-02-15T11:25:00.001-06:00