A Pen for Your Thoughts and Mine

Sharing with you a tidbit about a remarkable woman of the past

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 29 Jun 2016 20:52:00 +0000

Who was Louisa May Alcott Really?

Although she lived a life and belief that caused her to travel in a completely different direction than me, one of my favorite authors of prose and poetry will continue to be the quintessential American Novelist from 19th Century, Louisa May Alcott.

Here at A Pen for Your Thoughts I look forward to sharing a little bit about this unforgettable and talented woman some information you might not yet know. Join me now as we enjoy a moment of learning about who she really was and how she came to be the woman many know nothing about to this day except that she wrote a few books that we have come to love and have enjoyed throughout our lives..

Who was Louisa May Alcott? What can we as readers and writers learn from her, this remarkable woman of the past?

Louisa May Alcott an American novelist, was best known for her novel, Little Women, written and set in the Alcott family home where she lived in Orchard House in Concord, Massachusetts.

Little Women was based in part on Louisa's childhood experiences with her three sisters. One can get a hint of the type of woman she would become by delving into one of her primary characters in this novel.

We learn from reading her biography that in 1840, after several setbacks with the school, she and her family were compelled to relocate so they moved to a cottage along the Sudbury River, also in Massachusetts in the town of Concord. The ever adventurous Alcott family later moved to the Utopian Fruitlands community where they resided from 1843-1844 and then, after its collapse went on to live in rented rooms and finally to a house in Concord purchased with Louisa's mother's inheritance and financial help from Emerson.

Louisa May Alcott's early education included lessons from the naturalist Henry David Thoreau; the majority of her schooling, she received directly from her father. Louisa was also privileged to receive some instruction from writers and educators such as Ralph Waldo Emerson, Nathaniel Hawthorne, and Margaret Fuller, all family friends.

What an amazing privilege!

Louisa later described these early years of her life in a newspaper sketch entitled "Transcendental Wild Oats." The sketch was reprinted in the volume Silver Pitchers (1876), which relates the family's experiment in "plain living and high thinking" at Fruitlands.

She clearly lived an unusual and unorthodox life for her era, for by the time she entered adulthood, Louisa became an abolitionist and a feminist. In 1847, she and her family housed a fugitive slave for one week, and then in 1848 Alcott read and admired the "Declaration of Sentiments" published by the Seneca Falls Convention on women's rights.

Poverty made it necessary for Alcott to go to work at an early age as an occasional teacher, seamstress, governess, domestic helper, and writer. We also learn of her history that her first book was Flower Fables (1855), a book of tales originally written for Ellen Emerson, daughter of Ralph Waldo Emerson. In 1860, Alcott began writing for the Atlantic Monthly. She was also employed as a nurse in the Union Hospital at Georgetown, D.C., for six weeks in 1862-1863. While employed at Union Hospital, her letters home, revised and published in the Commonwealth and collected as Hospital Sketches (1863, republished with additions in 1869), garnered her first critical recognition for her observations and humor. Her novel Moods (1864), based on her own experience, was also promising.

Ever the prolific writer, and in moments of totally different character, Louisa also wrote passionate, fiery novels and sensation stories under the nom de plume A. M. Barnard. Among these are A Long Fatal Love Chase and Pauline's Passion and Punishment . Her protagonists for these tales are willful and relentless in their pursuit of their own aims, which often include revenge on those who have humiliated or thwarted them. These works achieved immediate commercial success in their day.

Ever the diverse woman of atypical character, Alcott also produced moralistic and wholesome stories for children, and, with the exceptions of the semi-autobiographical tale Work (1873), and the anonymous novelette A Modern Mephistopheles (1875), which attracted suspicion that it was written by Julian Hawthorne, she did not return to creating works for adults.

Some might consider this remarkable novelist a contradiction in terms.

Alcott wrote until her death, which was attributed to the after-effects of mercury poisoning contracted during her American Civil War service. She had received calomel treatments for the effects of typhoid before her passing which took place in Boston on March 6, 1888 at age 55, two days after visiting her father on his deathbed. Her last words were "Is it not meningitis?"

Much of this writing included on this page is based on the copyrighted Wikipedia, modified in several instances by this author.

Used by permission.

Used under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.

The verse that follows is one of my favorites of Louisa May Alcott.

Hither, hither, from thy home,

Airy sprite, I bid thee come!

Born of roses, fed on dew,

Charms and potions canst thou brew?

Bring me here, with elfin speed,

The fragrant philter which I need.

Make it sweet and swift and strong,

Spirit, answer now my song!

* * * * *

Hither I come,

From my airy home,

Afar in the silver moon.

Take the magic spell,

And use it well,

Or its power will vanish soon!

Easter Flowers

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 24 Mar 2016 19:29:00 +0000

“We are going to church,” smiled the lily;

“We are going to church,” smiled the rose;

“Then I certainly think,” said the pert little pink,

“We should wear our prettiest clothes.

“So, heliotrope, put on your lilac;
And crocus, your bright yellow vest;
Sweet violets. You must wear bonnets of blue
While the rose shall in crimson be dressed.

“Our lily shall don her white satin,
And in white, too, They could be seen.
While the hyacinth fair shall wear pink in her hair;
And the smiles have ribbons of green."

Then the bright Easter lily looked upward,
While her smile the whole garden illumed.
"Oh, dear little sister; there ne're had been Easter
If passion-flowers never had bloomed."

The church bells were joyfully ringing
When out of the garden they passed.
And down through the porch and into the church;
Till they came to the altar at last.

They climbed over archway and pillar,
They nestled in baskets of moss;
The rose found a place in a beautiful vase,
And the passion-flower clung to a cross.

And they swayed to the breeze of the organ,
That sent its great throb through the air;
When "Landamus" was sung all their censers they swung.
And they nodded "Amen" to each prayer.

They smiled in response to the children,
So like them in innocent grace.
When the sermon was reached and the minister preached.
They all looked him straight in the face.

“Oh my people,” he said, speaking softly,
Looking down on the listening throng,
"On this day of all days it is meet we give praise,
With offerings of flowers and glad song.

“But desolate homes are around us
Where dwell the distressed and forlorn,
Their carol a strain full of discord and pain,
Their lily of Easter a thorn.

“Go forth, O beloved, and find them,
Your hearts with pure love all aglow;
E'en the lowliest flower that fades in an hour
The Lord's resurrection may show."

The great congregation departed;
The flowers looked around in surprise.
"And must we stay here?" said the rose, while a tear
bedimmed yellow daffodil's eyes.

“I think we’ve a message to carry,”
Was the heliotrope's gentle reply.
"But how can we know to what places to go?"
Said the gay little pink, with a sigh.

A flutter, a rustle, a whisper,
A step light and fleet as a fawn,
And, behold standing close by the royal red rose
Was a child with a face like the dawn.

The angels to both are akin,
And without spoken word
all the bright blossoms heard
Where the dear little maiden had been.

She told them a wonderful secret.
They blushed with exquisite delight;
With tremulous haste down the long aisle they passed,
Until they were lost to the sight.

The heliotrope found a dark cellar,
A home of grim want and despair;
The white pink was led to a hospital bed,
And a rose climbed a rickety stair.

The daffodil followed a beggar;
By its side the hyacinth pressed;
The violets crept where a dear baby slept,
And laid themselves down on its breast.

The passion-flower caught on its purple
The tears which an erring one shed;
In a dark, shrouded room Easter lilies bloom
Waved their banner of hope o'er the dead.

A dream of the fancy you call it?
Some dreams have a touch that's divine;
And a child's simple act may turn fancy to fact
In fulfilling his vision of mine.

Easter Flowers By Mary B. Waterman

Published in Harper’s Young People, March 27, 1888.

Illustrated by Jessie Shepherd, “Easter Flowers”

Cancer is too real to be ignored

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 09 Jan 2016 21:24:00 +0000

I am a breast cancer survivor. It's been eighteen years since the day of that discovery when I found myself having to take it all in then to find myself in the midst of a number of surgeries, radiation treatments,a prolonged chemotherapy regime, hair loss, nausea, and a plethora of diagnostic tests and biopsies to follow with the threat that my invasive cancer would return with a vengeance. I also came to realize we don't go through these times alone, for everything about our lives affect the lives of others.

Even though years have passed since my first cancer revelation, the concern and fears for a return or a new cancer is in the back of both the doctors' minds as well as we who go through it. It has not been an easy time for me, for my husband, or for my family. We, unfortunately, continue to live with the possibility that mom and wife might once again have to go through the difficult experience and that other members of our family might be about to go through the same. If it wasn't for God and His grace I know it would have been much more difficult for us all.

Recently, I discovered I am also a BRCA 1+ mutant. It suggests that because of the numerous other members of my family both near and far who have gone through their own cancer experiences, I am not the only one who carries this gene mutation. It appears to be rampant in my family's history.

We all carry the BRCA gene, I don't know if you knew. The gene itself is a normal thing, but the BRCA 1+ and 2+ mutations are not. The list of mutations that are related to BRCA add to the abnormalities we have to face. These particular ones run in high risk families including my own. The mutation along with a list of those others that surround it puts a woman and a man at very high risk for future cancers -- breast cancers, ovarian cancers, pancreatic cancers, several other forms of cancer.

Learning of this has made me realize I have more likely than not passed along this mutation to my children, My children, in turn, could have passed it along to theirs. I've put my children and children's children at the same risk as me. I have put my daughter at risk for I have recently learned, she, too, has discovered she has also joined the BRCA1+ family.

Because I carry the BRCA mutation, and I've already had cancer once, I made a choice I thought I would never have to make. After going through my last open biopsy this previous Summer (I've lost count of how many I've gone through over the last several years -- Really there are too many to count), I finally decided enough was enough. It was then I decided to be tested; it was then I chose to get a (survivor) prophylactic bilateral mastectomy and reconstruction as well as the prophylactic hysterectomy that would lower my risk for ovarian cancer and be necessary regardless of the difficulties i might have by going through the experiences. (Reconstructive surgery after a mastectomy is something completely different from augmentive surgery which is more for the purpose of aesthetics' sake).

I knew this wouldn't be easy for me or for my husband. I knew there might be difficulties for me during this process, and indeed I was correct about that. I'm no spring chicken anymore. I have this uncanny way of catching all the side effects one might catch in the process of cancer elimination. Because of past radiation and chemotherapy, infections abound inside my body (fun) but that's another story.

I will get through this and I am blessed to have a husband whose care for me has shown itself in the ways he's cared for me through this trying time. And for the sake oft my family I know this is right. At least this can be one area of my life that will remove the fear my family has that I might get breast cancer again or ovarian cancer as has happened to so many others in this family of mine through the last several decades. This experience will take one step of worry off the table.

With the prayers of loved ones, God can deal with the rest as it comes. He always has and always will.

For my family and likely for yours, I'm sure you will agree, cancer is too real to be ignored.

*****

My author friend Claire Fullerton has written a timely feature which deals with the very cancer of which I speak. I believe her feature is appropriate for anyone reading this now who've experienced cancer in their families. I hope it will minister to you as it has today to me.

One of Us Has Breast Cancer

by Claire Fullerton

After a year and three months, we're just now coming up for air. Surprisingly, it has taken this long to rise to the top, for we have been overwhelmed ever since we got the news that one of us has breast cancer. I come from the south and grew up in a tight-knit circle of friends that can best be likened to the workings of a bee hive, so when something happens to one of us, in many ways, it happens to us all.

It's funny the way the unexpected presents itself, how you never see it coming and how you can be going along with your life, making your plans and assume that they're going to be a certainty by virtue of the fact that you've made them. That's exactly where things stood when we got the news about Tama.

One of us from our enclave in the South now lives in Sun Valley, Idaho. Her name is Louise and she's the larger than life, funny one. Louise has a sense of humor that literally reduces her to tears, and it tends to be contagious. She's also the organizer and plan maker who got it in her head one day to have Tama and me fly out to her home in the mountains for an extended weekend. Tama and I immediately fell in line: our husbands were alerted, our dates were set, and our plane tickets were secured. Tama and I were on our way; she from her home in Memphis and I from mine in L.A. Eight days before our scheduled departure, my phone rang. I looked at the display illuminating Louise's name and thought, "No doubt some sort of instruction is coming," but it turned out that wasn't the case. When I picked up the phone, Louise was crying.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Tama has breast cancer," Louise said without preamble.

"What?" I questioned again, only this time, with an entirely different inflection. This time, I meant two things: Did I hear you correctly? How in the world could this possibly be true?

I'll say this about all of us reared in the South: we know how to do. We know how to step up, we know the perfect gesture for everything, no matter what you're talking about, and we know how to meet all of life's emergencies. We pretty much slide into an automated code of proper behavior because that's what our Southern mothers passed down to us. We don't talk about it amongst ourselves, it's all just the way things are because it was expected of us while growing up, and now we expect it from each other.

"What should we do? "I asked Louise, because it was the first thing that sprang to mind.

"I think we should call off ya'll coming out here," Louise said.

"Alright, is that what Tama wants to do?" I asked.

"Tama doesn't know what she wants to do. Her family is freaking out," Louise reported.

"I'm not going to call her today- when did she find out?"

"Yesterday," Louise interjected. "They called with her mammogram results, said they found a mass and wanted to do a biopsy, which Tama didn't bother to tell us, and now they're telling her it's cancer. Now she's telling us."

"I don't even know what to say," I exhaled.

"Call Tama tomorrow anyway," Louise directed.

You have to know Tama. I spent many years thinking Tama was the quiet sort but now I know better; Tama just doesn't let on. What she is, is a woman of few words. She's not one of those superfluous talkers; she simply contributes to a conversation with as few words as possible and leaves the floor to everybody else. She doesn't feel the need to position herself front and center, and this is exactly why Louise and I have always deferred to her.

"Hey Tama, Louise called me," I said to her on the phone the next day.

"It's always something," Tama said.

"Seriously, is there anything I can do?"

"Yes, come over here and tell my kids I'm not dead yet," Tama said, deflecting the gravity of the moment.

The three of us went on that way for days, backing and forthing over the telephone, vacillating between drama and sarcasm, comparing thoughts and notes and ideas and stories of who has gone through something similar and achieved a happy outcome, until Tama's doctors presented her with a concrete, step-by-step agenda that would begin within the month.

For somebody handed a rule book on conduct at birth, I was still uncertain of what to say or do for my childhood friend. One has to have a frame of reference in some things and I just didn't have one for breast cancer, or any other serious illness that came down the pike for one of us.

"We need to get a plan," Louise declared over the phone.

"Good idea," I said.

"I think ya'll should still come out here," she said. "Tama says she may as well wait out here for the inevitable."

"Alright, let's airlift Tama on outta there, we may as well," I agreed.

I've found out that it's the little things you do in support of a friend who has breast cancer that end up truly mattering. For four unscheduled days, we followed Tama's lead, monitoring the understandable, yet unpredictable fluidity of her emotions and finding the delicate balance between activity and restorative reprieve. We had lunch with Louise's friends in Sun Valley, went shopping and took long walks on the mountain trails. When Tama teared up, we teared up ( Ya'll, let me cry now because I'm not going to cry in front of my husband or my kids when I get home," Tama said) and when the look on her otherwise stoic face suggested she was overwhelmed, we simply retreated to Louise's house and took a nap, no matter the time of day. We spent a lot of time talking about our intertwined childhoods, our histories and our families, yet oddly enough, we didn't spend a lot of time dwelling on what was to come for Tama in the following months. For whatever reason, Tama just wanted to be, and Louise and I had the unspoken graciousness to just be right alongside her.

It's been a year and three months now, and in that time, the harrowing, incremental dynamic of Tama's breast cancer has included multiple surgeries, chemotherapy, radiation, hair loss, on-going hives and reconstructive surgery. As friends in support, Louise and I kept vigil by demanding blow-by-blow details, sending presents, making phone calls and hanging on every twist and turn of her progress. It appears that the worst is behind her, as there is no sign of the cancer's return, Tama's hair has grown back beautifully and she looks and feels like a glowing million dollars.

In my heart of hearts, I believe that Tama will forever be one of the fortunate breast cancer survivors, and although there were times during her travails when I questioned whether anything I could do would ever be enough, since then I have realized that it is enough just to try and it is enough just to be there in support and camaraderie alongside your friend.

******

With God's grace, we can survive these difficult times with the help of one another. How important it is to be an encouragement to a friend or loved one when he or she needs it most. I hope you will make yourself available to those you care about when they need you the most. i pray they will be there for you.

Handmaidens of the Lord

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 17 Dec 2015 23:12:00 +0000

The Handmaiden

As women of God we are given various traits of character. Do you recognize some of yours?

Mary, the young handmaiden of God, was not so different from you or me. She had faith, she was obedient, she was quiet in spirit, humble of heart, meditative, tender-hearted, and she chose to be a willing servant. Mary was loving, very devout, and truly blessed.

But Mary, like us, was in need of a savior, declaring it so in the Scriptures and in her prayers.

Her story is a familiar one. To the scoffers her story is difficult to believe for it was and is a miracle, real and alive then, continuing to be after over 2000 years.

I've often wondered what might have gone through Mary’s mind when she discovered she was going to be pregnant and carry the Son of the Most High.

I came across a Diary the other day. It’s possible the hand-written journal was hers. Let me read to you what it said and you can decide for yourself.

~~~~~~~~~

Dear Diary. I must write this down for it is a miracle which i must share with someone.

I was just sitting on the floor of my room looking out my window. The sunbeams poured in on my face as they flooded through the panes. I had been daydreaming most of the day, just thinking…about things. That sort of thing happens a lot when you’re fourteen, like me.

While I sat there in the dust, I overheard a few old ladies carrying on in the other room. They were talking about me. I probably shouldn’t have been listening but I was.

Here is what I heard.

“Did you go to the betrothal yesterday?” asked one.

“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” said another. “I cried.”

“It was so beautiful,” added a third.

“Well,” said the first, “it’s about time something was done. I had heard a while backJoe got himself a wife. He’s getting up there in age – needs some kids around the shop. At his pace, he can't keep at his job all alone for much longer.”

“But he’s too old for HER!” the oldest one in the room said to the others. “The girl is only fourteen," she spouted a bit too noisily. "Joe is nowhere near twenty like other young men who should be showing interest in her. Indeed, the man is well over 30 years old ... maybe even more.”

“Oh well,” I heard someone say before they left the room. “You know how it is with some of these youngsters these days. They’ll marry anybody just to get away from home."

Before the door closed, their voices faded after someone said, "I Wonder if Mary can cook.”

I went back to my daydreaming shortly after that.

Betrothed! They didn't have it quite right for I was actually engaged. I could hardly wait for my year to be over so that Joseph and I could have the actual wedding ceremony. I knew it was part of tradition. All the other girls had to wait. I was no different.

I continued my daydreaming, until I suddenly heard this loud voice behind me.

“Greetings, you, who are highly favored. The Lord is with you!”

I looked up I saw this huge figure of a man standing over me. It scared me. After all, I was just a peasant girl. What could he want of me?

“Do not be afraid Mary,” he said. “You have found favor with God.”

What did he mean favor with God? Who was this man?

“You will be with child, a son will be born, and you will name him Jesus”

Oh goodness! I thought. He must not have known I was not yet married.

Even so, he went on. “He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him his father David’s throne; He will reign in Jacob’s house – His kingdom will never end.”

King David? Had he been speaking about him?

I knew I was his descendant (one of many) but this meant my son would be the prophesied Messiah of old. Hearing this, I was stunned! But the man sounded insistent.

Was he an angel? I had to respond.

“How can this be?” I asked him. “I am but a virgin” (He just had to have known I wasn’t yet married.)

Then he explained. “Dear child – the Holy Spirit will come upon you, the power of the most high will overshadow you. The holy one to be born will be the Son of God!”

My thoughts raced and I pondered not too little. If this should be true, who would ever believe me? What would Joseph say? Most likely he would write me up a divorcement as soon as I started showing and leave me home with mother! My son would be …. well, I didn’t dare say the word. The neighbors would shun him from the beginning.

I almost started crying. I felt sick inside. What would I do? My son would be so ill treated. I would be an outcast! I felt trapped. I’d have to live at home forever or perhaps I would get stoned to death?

I didn't yet lift my eyes. In truth, I didn’t know what to say.

I started to weigh the situation carefully. I knew what I had to do. I decided to count the cost. I was beginning to see, this wasn’t about me at all.

God had chosen me to do something special for Him! I had to be obedient to His wishes. Even though it might cost me everything, I had to consider it all. How much did I really love God?

I knew the answer then – I would do it. I would say yes. I would be willing.

I looked up at the man-angel. After a second's pause, I said to him, “I am the Lord’s handmaiden. Let it be to me according to your word.”

He smiled at me and the next thing I knew, he was gone. At that moment, I felt God’s love like never before, but it was even more than that. Because of my decision as the Lord’s handmaiden, I knew my God was truly pleased with me.

My prayer that came a moment later like a poetic melody said it all.

My soul magnifies the Lord

My spirit has rejoiced in God my Savior

He has regarded the lowly state of His maidservant

Behold henceforth all generations will call me blessed

for He who is mighty has done great things for me.

Holy is His name.

***

Mary made a decision to be the Lord’s servant, a handmaiden of God. She made the heartfelt choice to do what He asked of her -- to do His will no matter what it was. Her character traits were evident by her actions.

You and I as the Lord’s handmaidens are also asked to serve God from our hearts. We are asked to choose rightly, to do as He asks of us, to do His will even if it takes us out of our comfort zones. Are we willing like Mary to be obedient to His wishes for us?

We are not Mary, but we are the Lord's servants. As women of God, we have made our decisions to be his handmaidens for this day and age. We have our faith, we make decisions to be obedient, to be quiet in spirit, humble of heart, meditative, tender-hearted, willing servants.

Mary was loving, devout, truly blessed. But Mary, like us, knew she was in need of a savior and declared it so in her prayer.

Like Mary, when we choose to do those things God asks of us, we, too, can feel His love for us like never before.

Mary pleased the Lord. Her character was evident by her actions.

What traits of character are evident in our lives today?

To Stuff or Not to Stuff

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 17 Nov 2015 21:49:00 +0000

Thanksgiving is just around the corner. All of our tummies will soon be filled with good stuff. Post Thanksgiving which comes soon after will mean the time is about right to begin your look around for a stocking-stuffer book or two -- a little gift for someone's Christmas. What a great way to say THANKS to those who have come to be your reading friends.

In the next few weeks I am going to search around for some Christmas themed books and share them with you here on my blog. Here are just a few you have to get a peek at.

A CHRISTMAS BONUS

by Patty Froese

CHRISTMAS SHADES OF GRAY

by Tina Pinson

A HAND TO HOLD

by Shawna Williams

NURTURING THE SPARK

by Sandra Sookoo

Be sure to read the back covers. There are many excellent ones to choose from.

Not only are these stories worth the read, no one could resist admiring the awesome covers.

These Christmas romances and a whole lot more can be found over at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and also at Desert Breeze Publishing.

Come by my website too when you can. I'd love for you to say hello.

http://www.desertbreezepublishing.com/holiday-christmas/

http://www.shirleykigerconnolly.com/

In Need of a Story Fix?

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 03 Nov 2015 18:55:00 +0000

Connolly Freelance

Proofreading and Editing Services

Women's Fiction Manuscripts

Sweet/Inspirational/Historical Romance

Nonfiction Manuscripts

Many of my writer friends and acquaintances and past clients have asked for an update of the proofreading and editing services I offer aside from the joyful critiquing I do with my Scribes 218 partners. As a freelance copy editor I provide that extra pair of eyes needed to give fiction or nonfiction manuscripts a more thorough review of content and structure, a more appropriate level of editing that will match the author's specific needs. Outside the help I provide as line editor to small presses, included here is a summary of my individual freelance editing services -- rates standard to the industry.

All authors need that editorial review and fine tuning of their manuscript before it's submitted to the publisher. The eyes of someone else can often see those common and sometimes overlooked errors the writer who cherishes her baby (the manuscript) might neglect to catch.

We, as authors, are simply too close to our work.

Both traditionally published and self-published books demand excellence. Competition is fierce; to be able to find and keep an audience means we must do our best with our overall first impression. Our work be free from structural problems, typos, and grammatical errors.

After I wrote my first couple of books, I discovered how disheartening it was to find a number of mistakes upon my first read. By then, it was too late to do anything about it. I decided immediately to hone my own past editing experience so I could help others not to make the same mistake.

As a freelancer, the editing process I offer is a partnership between you, the author, and me your personal editor. The type of work I proofread or edit is included below.

Retreat Brochures, Flyers, Pamphlets

Memoirs, Books of Reflection, Devotionals

Women's Fiction, Historical Romance (Sweet, Inspirational, Edgy)

Contemporary Women's Fiction (Sweet, Inspirational, Edgy)

Novellas , Short Stories

Newspaper or Magazine Feature Articles

How-To Books, Handbooks

I prefer working with my authors electronically and all correspondences and materials will be held in strict confidence. I use the track change system with my authors with a two-part editing process. I prefer MS Word files which will be returned to the client as clean, corrected text.

My Freelance Editing and Proofreading Rates

The established industry standard for a manuscript page is 250 words. Turnaround time on most projects is negotiated between author and client (weekends not included).

I offer both page rates and hourly rates and will provide a detailed explanation upon request.

To cover some of my office supplies, there is a minimum upfront charge of $10.00 per job when contract is signed whatever the size of the project. The remainder is due according to negotiated stage for payments. Ongoing adjustments to the arrangements can be made if required. Our work together will be tailored to fit the client's personal needs. Most work can be handled through the Internet. Access is available through DropBox as well.

Basic Proofreading manuscript up to 25,000 words: $1.50 per page (250 words) or $6.00 per 1000 words (four pages) for corrected electronic copy (MS Word file)

Basic Proofreading manuscript 25,000 to 80,000 words: $1.25/page (250 words) or $5.00 per 1000 words (four pages) for corrected electronic copy (MS Word file)

Basic Proofreading manuscript over 80,000 words: $4.50 per 1000 words (four pages) for corrected electronic copy (MS Word file)

Basic Proofreading includes closely examining your project for spelling, punctuation, typos, capitalization, awkward grammar, ensured readability by assessing verb tense, grammar, sentence fragments, run-on sentences, subject-verb disagreement, comma splices and other usage.

Broad-spectrum Editing manuscript is $2.75 per page (250 words) or $11.00 per 1000 words or four pages for corrected electronic copy (MS Word file)

Broad-spectrum editing includes line-by-line copy editing, concentrating on logical flow, organization, structure, transition.

Extended Proofreading manuscript is $3.00 per page (250 words) or $12.00 per 1000 words or four pages for corrected electronic copy (MS Word file.

Extended proofreading includes overall manuscript structure, word choice, clear writing, inconsistencies, redundancies)

Deep Editing manuscript is $3.50 per page (250 words) or $14.00 per 1000 words (four pages) for corrected electronic copy (MS Word file)

Deep Editing includes plot or narration balance, believable characters or situations, phrasing ambiguities, levels of diction, rhythm and colloquialisms, consistency, theme, style, clarity, concision, tone and audience appropriateness.

Feel free to contact me by email (connolly.shirley@att.net) to discuss your personal project. Please put EDITING/PROOFREAD REQUEST in subject line.

An Intriguing Harvest Moon Look-See

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 20 Oct 2015 18:55:00 +0000

For the last several years I've had the privilege to work alongside several outstanding authors over at Vinspire Publishing. One of my fellow author friends has a book out that might be just the thing for that perfect October read. How could anyone resist "a crumbling tombstone ... a life cut too short ... and a grave best left undisturbed"? Yes, a visit to an abandoned cemetery with Caretaker John Riley should entice us all to want to open the pages of Beguiling by Nolan Carlson.

Author Nolan Carlson is married and the father of four grown children and five grandchildren. He has served in the military and also in the public school system as a teacher and counselor for twenty-four years. Also a business owner for twenty years, he has been a professional writer for twenty-nine years and has had many young adult books published. His goal is to provide wholesome and entertaining material for young adults. To date, he has had fourteen books published.

Let's take a peek together at what we might find between the covers.

Beguiling

Nolan Carlson

A crumbling tombstone…a life cut too short…and a grave best left undisturbed

Taking care of an abandoned cemetery isn’t everyone’s idea of summer fun, but for John Riley, it means money in his pocket and plenty of time for baseball and his girlfriend. Admittedly, it’s a little boring…until he discovers a crumbling tombstone outside of the cemetery fence. Though his instincts tell him to leave it alone, John wants to learn more about the sixteen-year-old girl who died in 1925.

His obsession grows as the days pass. He’s spending

more time with the grave than he is his girlfriend, but he can’t walk away. And when he hears flirtatious laughter coming from beneath the soil, enchanted.

When a ghost takes the shape of a lovely young girl, John is drawn to her. She connects to his soul, and he can’t imagine not loving her. But he doesn’t recognize the evil beneath the possessive, beguiling creature who claims to love him in return.

Check out more about Nolan Carlson.

http://www.nolancarlson.com/

http://www.vinspirepublishing.com/#!carlson-nolan/c1tgx.

http://amzn.to/1KmEAk9

A Romantic at Heart

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 30 Sep 2015 18:17:00 +0000

Her Romance of Redemption

Intreat me not to leave thee…

Ruth 1:16b

I just finished refreshing my way through the Book of RUTH after a long absence from that portion of the Bible.

You remember Ruth and Boaz. Their story became a beautiful romance of redemption. I believe Ruth is one of the most beautiful love stories God gave us in His Word.

Naturally as a romantic at heart, iI see this book as a treasure of pure fine gold written between the lines that reaches deep into a person’s heart.

Boaz the hero in this story was a man of honor—a man who greatly loved the Lord God. He served God with all of his heart. He was the type of hero I would jump at the chance to grab onto if I were the heroine in any book.

Boaz was not a priest. He did not have a big ministry. But he did love the Lord and it showed by everything he did in his life. The way Boaz represented his family was respected by everyone. He stood for what he believed in.

Boaz was several years senior to Ruth, our heroine, but this didn't matter to God. God chose to bring this handsome couple together in the most, lovely way and for very special reason.

God would know that Ruth could bring a fresh sparkle to Boaz’s life. Boaz brought to our young Ruth a life a joy and refreshing.

We learn at the beginning of this story that Ruth had lost her husband. She desperately needed solidarity from another area, so she went with her deceased husband's mother to a different place to get it. Unlike her sister-in-law who turned back, she moved forward to the unknown. She could have easily turned around and gone the other way…but Ruth chose the better way.

Ruth, in her serene quietness, listened to the spirit speak to her heart. She became obedient to God's call in her life. Because of her obedience when Boaz entered the picture, she soon recognized she had chosen God's better way.

I loved the part in this book where Boaz spotted Ruth the first time. From the minute Boaz saw her, and she him, and because of their deference to the will of God, the Lord with a smile knew He could fulfill the plan He had for them both. Love was in the making.

God in His infinite wisdom obviously knew what would happen. He wanted Ruth to leave the land she came from and go to a distant land where she could come upon Boaz and where he would come upon her. If she hadn’t been obedient, it might have changed the entire course of history.

There are so many loving details to this story a person can discover by reading about this woman. I saw love at first sight to name one. I learned that a person if she's willing can leave the norm and the routine things of the world in order to fulfill the will of God even if it means she might not know where it will lead.

Ruth did this. Would I be willing?

Not only did Ruth and Boaz eventually become one together in marriage, Ruth became great grandmother to the famous King David, who by lineage takes us right down to our wonderful Lord Jesus Christ.

What a great example both Boaz and Ruth were to me. Look at what can happen with obedience and willingness to trust the Lord in all things.

Ruth wasn't afraid to listen to the voice of God. God blessed her with a good man and with a future that would go down in history. Ruth was as an example of what is truly a Romance of Redemption making her a part of the heritage of the of the coming Messiah.

I wonder sometimes if God finds me a woman of obedience. I ask myself often how much I listen to Him when He tries to speak to me. My quick read through the Book of Ruth this morning helped me to take a much closer look at myself.

Never Forget

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 11 Sep 2015 12:49:00 +0000

Till the day the Lord comes to take me home, no matter how many years pass by, I will remember this day; I will think about those whose lives were taken, the families, friends, and loved ones of all who died.

September 11, 2001

This day changed everything for America. This day changed the hearts of many.

Never ever forget.

Pray for our Country.

As long as God chooses to keep us here, we have to remember this is our home. She needs our prayers more than ever.

United We Stand, America

Divided We'll Fall

GOD PLEASE BLESS OUR COUNTRY

AMERICA PLEASE LOOK UP

RONE Awards Announced Soon

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 03 Sep 2015 21:10:00 +0000

Have you signed up yet to go to the InD'Scribe Conference coming up this September? What a weekend it will be out in Palm Springs, California at the Renaissance Palm Springs Hotel, September 17 - 20, 2015.

I'm thrilled to discover my inspirational book, Not Quite an Angel was not only nominated for a RONE Award, I am now a finalist.

What a blessing it is for me. I really enjoyed writing this story.

My congratulations to all the finalists this year.

Will keep you all updated with the news of all the winners later this month.

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 22 Jul 2015 12:22:00 +0000

Woops! I am a little behind here at my blog..... I will be back soon with more wonderful authors to share with you.

I've been putting together my new website in the meantime. I'm really excited about it. I HOPE you'll come check me out. Tell me what you think when you get a chance.

Have an awesome summer. I'll be back soon. www.shirleykigerconnolly.com/

See you over at my website!

(Isn't that a fun banner up top? It's from cover my facebook. You should check out that place. It's got awesome stuff.

SHIRLEY

AMERICA AMERICA GOD SHED HIS GRACE ON THEE

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 01 Jul 2015 14:10:00 +0000

CELEBRATE YOUR FREEDOM

FOR AS LONG AS IT IS HERE

GOD PLEASE BLESS AMERICA WITH YOUR PRESENCE.

WE NEED IT

An Honor and a Blessing

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 30 May 2015 12:39:00 +0000

A MILITARY WIFE KEEPING BUSY AT HER COMPUTER

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 27 May 2015 15:18:00 +0000

With Memorial Day just behind us, I want to continue to draw attention to those who with honor serve in America's Armed Forces and who willingly risk their lives to keep us free. I feel privileged this week to share a small portrait of one of America's military wives -- Author Anne Greene.

Anne is married to one of America's honorable servicemen. She delights in writing about alpha heroes who aren’t afraid to fall on their knees in prayer, and about gutsy heroines. Anne writes both historical and suspense novels. She makes her home in McKinney, Texas. She and her hero husband, Army Special Forces Colonel Larry Greene, have visited twenty-five countries.

A visit to Scotland resulted in Anne's award-winning Scottish historical romances, Masquerade Marriage and Marriage By Arrangement. A Texas Christmas Mystery also won awards.

Take the time to look them up on Amazon. Both are excellent reads.

Anne's Women of Courage Series spotlights heroic women of World War II. The first book, Angel With Steel Wings, is also available on Amazon.

DESPITE THE DANGER

To escape her past, Mandy McCabe test pilots planes as part of the Women Air Force Service Pilots.

DESPITE THE OPPOSITION

Major Harvey Applegate lost his WASP wife and doesn’t want any more women killed on his watch. He fights to close the program.

DESPITE THE PAST

They fall in love.

Shirley: I love the short portrayal you placed on the back cover. Tell us a little more about this story.

Anne: Angels With Steel Wings is a story of a woman in a man’s domain set against the dynamics of World War II is a can’t-miss scenario. Angels With Steel Wings paints a vivid picture of courageous pilots facing death in the air while struggling with love on the ground, and wraps it up in a unique twist that will challenge all you knew about the “Greatest Generation.” Steeped in history and framed by faith, this is a tale that takes readers into a world now all but forgotten, and lands in a place that touches the heart in a special way. To know how far we have come, we must understand where we started, and Angels With Steel Wings takes us back on a thrilling trip in time that informs as it entertains. I think this is one flight you won’t want to miss.

This book was endorsed by Ace Collins, the bestselling author of numerous books,
including the WW II series, “In the President’s Service.”

Shirley: Your second series takes us again to Texas.

Anne: It's called: Handcuffed In Texas. The first book, Holly Garden, PI, Red Is For Rookie, now available on Amazon.

RED IS FOR RACE

Tracking a kidnapper is an unusual assignment for a private investigator. But Matt is Holly’s lifelong friend. During the race to save him, Holly discovers a lot more than she bargained for. Matt’s in love with her.

RED IS FOR RISK

Holly’s world has never been more dangerous. Her mother’s convinced Holly will end up dead. Holly needs Stryker’s savvy and expertise and is eager for his help, though she risks her heart with the danger-loving man.

RED IS FOR REVENGE
Stryker’s past returns to haunt him. The kidnapper wants revenge. Stryker’s willing to give his life for the woman he loves. The risky, revenge race transforms Holly from a Rookie into a Pro. But between the two men turning her life upside down, can Holly take the heat?

Anne: Holly Garden, PI, Red Is For Rookie, is the first book in a new Stephanie Plum-type mystery series. Except Holly has a Christian world view.

A rookie private investigator tracks a kidnapper poised to kill her best male friend. Will she find her friend in time to save his life? A seasoned PI from a competing firm dogs her footsteps. So why is she falling for the guy? Will she trust her heart to the life-long friend or the danger-addicted PI?

In this first book, Holly progresses from rookie to experienced PI. She gains confidence in her ability to perform her job. She grows from questioning her career choice to realizing she’s in the center of God’s will. She discovers she can be a Christian light in the dark world of criminals. She recovers from being left at the altar and having no love life and discovers two to-die-for men love her. She’s primed for the new PI job the Lord sends her way.

Shirley: This book has also won awards I understand.

Anne: HOLLY won 2^nd place in the Daphne du Maurier contest, finaled in the Genesis Contest, won 2^nd place in the Fool For Love contest, and 3^rd place in the Heart of the Rockies contests.

Shirley: Before we share an excerpt of HOLLY, what motivates you to write?

Anne: My highest hope is that my stories transport the reader to an awesome new world and touch hearts to seek a deeper spiritual relationship with the Lord Jesus.

Shirley: Do you have a scripture that inspires you?

Anne: My scripture comes from three verses in Psalm 37: Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart. Commit your way to the Lord; trust in him, and He will do this: He will make your righteousness shine like the dawn.

Shirley: How can the readers learn more about you?

Anne: Visit me at http://www.AnneGreeneAuthor.com .
I also write a novel teaching class at my blog www.anneswritingupdates.blogspot.com.

I am also looking forward to giving away a print book

to one person who leaves a comment.

LEAVE US A COMMENT.

TELL US WHAT DRAWS YOUR ATTENTION TO A BOOK AND WHY

THE GENRE?

THE COVER?

THE BRIEF DESCRIPTION ON THE BACK COVER?

THE ENDORSEMENTS?

THE AWARDS AND NOMINATIONS?

THE AUTHOR?

AN EXCERPT?

HOLLY GARDEN EXCERPT

As I turned away to retrace my surveillance route, my gaze swept across a man I hadn’t noticed before. He stood near the ballroom door with his back to me. I did a double-take. An off-duty cop. I could spot one a mile away. The way he walked, stood, and observed his surroundings. A cop couldn’t disguise his identity. Calm, professional, strong, he looked as though he controlled the world. With legs braced wide, right foot behind, he kept his piece away from the crowd. Even from the rear the guy looked cocky.

Someone touched my shoulder. I jumped. While I’d been eyeing the cop, Matt had crossed to my side of the room.

“Who invited the police?” Matt jabbed a thumb toward the ballroom door.

“My question exactly. Maybe one of the rich types demanding extra protection. Or maybe the cop’s moonlighting as a bodyguard.”

Matt rubbed his clean-shaven chin. “Maybe. Don’t know.”

“Whatever. I’ll find out.”

“You do that.” Matt sauntered back to patrol his side of the ballroom.

I planned to check the cop out, but didn’t want to meet him this way. I had an image to project. I was an investigator. A professional. Strong. Independent. Cool. Granted, I had a lot to learn, but I sure didn’t want to be seen on Valentine’s night appearing to shop for a man at a meet-a-thon. In a town as closely-connected as Dallas, if we met in the line of fire–and I had no doubt we would—he’d never take me seriously. Some time tonight I’d inform him I was actually working.

I policed my half of the room then headed back toward the Champion Wrestler table.

Big, warm fingers grasped my arm with just enough pressure to make me brake and take notice. The dark-haired, fine-looking man extended his other hand. A sense of recognition nagged me. But I didn’t know him.

He sat with his back to the wall at the Attorney table catty-cornered to the wrestlers’ enclave. I shook his waiting hand, feeling warmth and solid strength I hadn’t expected to find in a lawyer’s grip. He wore his dark suit like other men wore uniforms. Daring. Proud. Indomitable. Candlelight reflected mystery in his brown eyes. With the kind of smile you see on a man given an unexpected dish of ice cream, he stood and offered me the empty chair his polished wingtips had guarded. With the chair now free, a bevy of females flew over from different tables and circled him.

“Sit a while.”

His compelling expression excluded everyone in the room but me. It was an invitation I didn’t want, but my feet, aching from the unaccustomed spike heels, did. So I slid into the seat.

“Thanks, but just for a minute.”

Sophisticated women glared—shoppers vying for the attorney’s attention. He flashed them a smile and motioned to the nearby Champion Wrestler table. “Those men want to meet you.”

“I’ll be back.” One woman, wearing heavy eye liner, trailed her hand along the top of the attorney’s chair and threw him a seductive glance before she moved away. The other ladies stepped over to the strong men’s den.

“Thanks, man.” One wrestler nodded, his long blonde hair falling into his square-jawed face.

I turned to the attorney, a real James Bond type. Unwanted sparks ignited my insides. Too intense to be handsome and too electric to be ignored, he was big, tense, and concentrated. I’d never met a man who looked so ready for adventure.

Here was trouble masquerading as charm.

“They’re gonna love this at the office,” Bond drawled.

I blinked. The heat in his eyes warmed me like sun-melted chocolate. The challenge in his steady gaze stiffened my backbone.

“The office?” I noticed the bulge under his armpit not quite hidden by his well-fitting dark suit jacket. Tingles trilled my spine.

“Stryker Black. You’re Holly Garden.”

Recognition hit me. The out-of-uniform cop I’d spotted standing in the foyer with his back to me. How had he settled in so quickly? His proximity caused my eyelid to do its thing. Most people never see my twitch. I hoped Stryker didn’t. The quivers make me look unprofessional.

“How do you know my name?”

“Looked up your file at our office.”

Suspicion brought sudden anger biting into me like the Genesis serpent. To keep my temper in check I whispered. “You’re a police officer?”

“Used to be. Now a PI. Ace Investigations.”

I shot to my feet, snagged a four-inch stiletto on the chair rung and lurched forward, catching the table’s edge to keep from landing in his lap.

“I knew it!” Mom.

With my nose inches from his ear, his masculine scent broke through my protective aura. Trying not to breathe in his woodsy, nautical aroma, I scooted away.

Because I wasn’t breathing freely, my whisper sounded weird and nasal. “I want you to leave. At once.”

“Why should I?”

I stared and forgot to lower my voice. “You’re not needed.”

The four lawyers seated around Stryker perked up. Fat and thin, they gazed at me like I was a valuable bequest in a contested will. One leaned so far forward on the table his French cuff dipped into his coffee.

Stryker remained cool. “I’m sure you’re acquainted with a lady named Violet Garden.”

My palms turned sweaty.

My own mother thought I couldn’t fill Dad’s shoes. She thought I didn’t have the guts to be a detective. She thought I’d fail. Knees weak, I slid back into the chair and gazed down. My fingers itched to fiddle with the clasp on my glittery bag, but I held them still. I couldn’t let the PI see how his words curdled my self-esteem.

“Security was the word Ms. Garden used.”

I spoke low, not wanting anyone else to hear. “She didn’t. She couldn’t.” I clamped my lips. He didn’t need to know how his words upset me.

“Hard to believe?” He gave me a hard-boiled, tight-lipped Bogart smile.

Sitting so close, he didn’t look like a cop. Or a PI for that matter. More like a very, very sexy bad guy. Mafia or something. My throat closed. How could Mom do this to me?

“Mom asked for you? Personally?”

“She asked for Ace’s top man.” His dark eyes spoke of secrets, hinted of danger. Pulled me in even as they warned me off.

I whispered, “Luck of the draw?”

We’d been talking in hushed tones, but now the PI, a beguiling smirk on his face, spoke louder. “I won the lottery.”

One lawyer said, “I’ve got to remember that line.”

The other lawyers grunted agreement.

Their responses helped me regain my poise. I turned back to the PI.

“Okay, you work for our competition . . . and you’re here?” I’d staked out Ace Investigations to see what I was up against, so why hadn’t I laid eyes on him there? And he was an eyeful. Plus he was feeding me a line. And good at it. Too good.

I scooted my chair away from him. Not that long ago I’d been dumped by another charmer. I wasn’t about to nibble this bait.

Even if I had wanted to chance another romance, God laid out other plans for me. I had a new vocation. I had Dad’s murder to solve and his reputation to sanitize. I needed to prove to the city of Dallas and its entire police force that Dad hadn’t been a dirty Private Investigator. If I failed, our investigative firm would dribble on down the drain. I lifted my chin. Even if I had time to spend with a man, I’d never choose this smoothie. But, I did need to size up the competition.

Investigator Rule Number One – know your enemy.

So, I did an about face and turned on the sugar. “Stryker, is it?” I smiled sweetly. “I thought I had every PI in Dallas pegged. Glad to meet you.”

Stryker’s focused expression didn’t change. “Likewise.” He laid a strong hand on my bare arm, raising the hair with a single light touch. “Stay a minute more. Tell me about yourself.”

A male voice interrupted Stryker. “Let’s be judicious here. Fair’s fair. There’re four attorneys at this table and one lovely woman. Time to share. My name’s Jeff Davidson of Davidson, Hillyer & Greene. I’m sure you’ve heard of my firm. And this is . . . .”

While Jeff introduced the other three suits, Stryker leaned back and scanned the room, doing his security thing. With me quickly shaking hands around the table, the trio of women who’d huddled around Stryker earlier made their move. Rising from the nearby Champion Wrestler table as if directed by an unseen choreographer, they mobbed Stryker.

I sucked in a breath. His mouth hanging ajar, Stryker looked stunned. Three wrestlers stood too, pushed aside their chairs, and towered over Stryker. I glimpsed Matt striding across the ballroom toward us, security face on.

The big blond wrestler, who seemed to be their leader, rasped, “We wasn’t just twiddling our thumbs over here. We was talking with these ladies.” His expression looked downright testy. He raised a fist, looking about to deck Stryker.

The three glamour girls stepped away from Stryker and melted into the crowd.

Prepared to intervene, I grabbed my purse and wriggled to the edge of my seat, curious to see what Stryker would do. This was plain screwy. Were the wrestlers trying to pick a fight?

Stryker’s face grew leaner, showing clear bone definition. A paper-thin scar slicing through his cleft chin whitened. He stood and faced the three muscled men, their crimson cummerbunds flashing.

“So?”

“So, we want our ladies back.”

“Take them.”

“Cool it you guys.” I unclasped my purse, thinking I might need my gun.

The fourth wrestler jumped to his feet, tipping his chair backward. It landed with a thud on the carpeted floor. A solid wall of red cummerbunds circled Stryker. I shot off my chair. One mat-pounder grabbed my arm and hauled me toward his table.

“We want this one too.”

I jerked my arm loose. My abrupt movement caused my ankle to turn in one of the tricky stilettos.

“Yeow!” I stumbled. Before I could catch my balance, I lost the shoe on my twisted ankle, and fell to my knees.

Events fast-forwarded. Two wrestlers pummeled Stryker. Someone kicked my evening bag. On hands and knees, I chased it under the Attorney Table to rescue my gun. I glimpsed Matt confronting the other two wrestlers, and attempted to squirm out to escort the muscle-jocks to the nearest exit. Crouched on hands and knees, my dress tightened around me like shrink wrap and stopped me cold.

A lawyer squatted beside me. “Let me help—”

One of the wrestlers slammed him backward with an open palm. With a crash and tinkle of broken glass, the table flipped onto its side. A white and silver rain of crockery and cutlery poured down. A plate of romaine lettuce and blue cheese dressing slapped against my thigh, releasing the odor of salad-splashed velvet. My vision slowed as if I starred in a surreal movie. Mind scanning possible actions, my skirt creeping higher above my knees, I crawled free.

Was this a diversion for a robbery? I had to take control. Still on hands and knees, I smelled something acrid and sulfuric. The lighted candle centerpiece smoldered at the edge of the tablecloth. With a soft whoosh, flames leapt to life. I grabbed the closest thing at hand, a large slab of prime rib probably from the same uneaten place setting as the salad, and beat the flames with the semi-rare meat until they died in wisps of smoke beneath charred beef. Smelling cooked steak mixed with scorched hair and fearful of what I would find, I touched my eyebrows and bangs. Crispy but still there.

Gasps and murmurings told me the crowd grew around us. Heavy feet shuffled and I jerked my hand back to keep it from getting trampled. Fists struck flesh accompanied by grunts and colorful language. I couldn’t believe such a brouhaha erupted in our little corner of the big room with so little provocation. Something smelled fishy and it wasn’t the shrimp cocktail sauce dripping onto the carpet. I was about to spring to my feet when a body thudded to within an inch of me and lay still.

Stryker. One look at Stryker’s bloody face and I all but keeled over him.

My pulse spiked, pushing me into Unthinking Mode. Okay, so I lost it here. Thoughts of my job flew out the window. But only for a few seconds.

Still on my knees, I fished in my clutch for my cell, and dialed 911. Dead zone. Resisting the urge to throw the instrument at a wrestler, I dropped the useless thing back into my purse.

As quickly as the commotion started, it ended. The dull thud of fists on flesh died. Fingers and knees digging into the thick carpet, I lifted one hand and pressed two fingers against the carotid artery in Stryker’s muscular neck. Warm skin. Steady pulsing.

Lord, please don’t let him be badly hurt.

With all quiet above me, I assumed Matt held everything under control. I loosened Stryker’s red power tie and rubbed his big, limp hand between both of mine. His lashes, fanned across those high cheekbones, looked longer than any man had a right to own. Other than being a little bloody and lying motionless, he looked fine. Too fine. But I didn’t have to remind myself that Mom hired him. A twinge of joy that it was him, not Matt or me lying on the floor, layered in an uncomfortable guilt that squashed the relief, so I said another quick prayer for the competition PI.

He groaned and his eyelids fluttered.

Men’s polished dress shoes, accompanied by glittering high heels, moved close enough for me to touch. One wrestler squatted next to me. “Here, let me—”

“No. Don’t touch him.” I swatted the man’s beefy hand away from Stryker.

Stryker opened his eyes, relieving my worry about him. But Mom would arrive any minute for her grand entrance, and I desperately wanted her to gawk at her security being carried away in an ambulance.

So I said to the wrestler, “I’ve got to call EMS.”

Furor at the ballroom doors made me look up. “That was fast. Matt must have gotten through to EMS.” But doubt nagged my brain. Too fast. Way too fast.

Before I could follow up my hunch, the crowd opened up and two blue-uniformed men, carrying oxygen paraphernalia, a stretcher, and a medical kit hustled to the table.

The EMS team ignored Stryker who lay concealed by a drooping tablecloth, with only his long legs and feet protruding. One Medic knelt beside another stretched-out body. I struggled to my feet, red dress hiked almost mid-thigh, to identify the victim.

“Matt!” I rushed over in time to see the medic jab a syringe into my co-investigator’s limp arm.

Electrical impulses spiked my nerves. I’d never seen an emergency team do that. The first medic finished a cursory check for broken bones, then both men heaved Matt onto the stretcher and hustled him through the crowded ballroom.

Juggling on one four-inch heel and one bare foot, I elbowed my way through the crowd after them. “Which hospital?”

They mumbled something incoherent and disappeared through the hotel’s exterior door.

Lord, please take care of Matt. He’s a good friend. Keep him safe.

I started after them.

The blond wrestler clutched my arm, stopping me from following them out to the ambulance. Then he smiled crookedly, straightened his bow tie, and righted his cummerbund.

“Don’t look so worried, the PI’s in good hands.”

I stiffened. “How do you know Matt’s a PI?”

The wrestler frowned and clamped his lips.

Shivers snaked my spine. Something was very wrong.

REMEMBERING

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 20 May 2015 15:11:00 +0000

HAVE A BLESSED MEMORIAL WEEKEND AS TOGETHER

WE REMEMBER AND HONOR

THOSE WHO DIED

THAT WE COULD BE FREE

LET FREEDOM RING

Our Monument : THE REASON

That Unforgettable Power of Forgiveness

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 12 May 2015 21:13:00 +0000

Join me in getting to know Pepper.

Pepper Basham is an award-winning author who writes romance peppered with grace and humor. She’s a native of the Blue Ridge Mountains, a mom of five, a speech-language pathologist, and a lover of chocolate. She enjoys sprinkling her native Appalachian culture into her fiction whenever she can. She currently resides in the lovely mountains of Asheville, NC where she works with kids with special needs, searches for unique hats, and plots new ways to annoy her wonderful friends at her writing blog, The Writer’s Alley. She is represented by Julie Gwinn and her debut novel, The Thorn Bearer, released in April 2015.

The Thorn Bearer

When Ashleigh Dougall's fiancé leaves her eight months before their wedding, the unexpected blow ignites a battalion of insecurities stemming from her father’s intimate betrayal. Her worst fears are confirmed – who could ever love a soiled woman?

In an attempt to escape her shame, Ashleigh boards the ill-fated Lusitania to cross the war-torn waters of Europe. Much to her dismay, she isn’t traveling alone.

Sam Miller is always making up for his best friend’s mistakes. Determined to help his childhood friend, Ashleigh, he offers his compassion and companionship as she ventures across a perilous sea. With the faint hope of renewing his lost love for Ashleigh’s sister, Sam never expects to find the woman of his dreams in the love of his best friend.

As they travel across the Atlantic, neither is prepared for the life-altering and heart-breaking journey of their friendship.

When the truth of Ashleigh’s past explodes in the middle of a hospital in England and Sam rejects her, Ashleigh must decide if God is enough – or if the double weight of her betrayal and past will crush her life forever.

SDC: Welcome to A Pen for Your Thoughts and Mine, Pepper. Your book sounds great already. And I love the cover. Why did you choose to write this particular story?

Pepper: To show the power of forgiveness.

SDC: That's a strong premise. Tell us more.

Pepper: This story bloomed from a small seed of a question. What if a person was wounded so deeply he/she “couldn’t” forgive? How would unforgiveness shape them? Change them?

Based on my own experience and stories shared by women who have walked the wounded road my main character, Ashleigh, walked, I began to develop this story: where war wages on the inside and the outside. It was interesting that as the story grew, so did the many ways in which we see ‘forgiveness’ threads played out in various different characters' lives.

SDC: This sounds like it would be great in a series. Have you considered that?

Pepper: The Thorn Bearer is Book 1 from the Penned in Time series.

SDC: Sounds perfect. What will Book 2 be called?

Pepper: Book 2 comes out in March 2016. It’s called The Thorn Keeper and is the romantic story of two of the secondary characters you meet in Book 1.

SDC: I look forward to getting to know your characters then. Will you have more in store for your readers after this series is complete?

Pepper: In December 2015, my first contemporary romance novel comes into print. It is called A Twist of Faith and is a modern day retelling of Pygmalion/My Fair Lady, set in Appalachia.

SDC: Great title. Give us a hint about it too.

Pepper: Cattle farmer meets a hard-headed speech-language pathology professor.

SDC: Hard-headed, huh? :) Oh my. Sounds like you might have found your subject matter right in your own backyard too. Not the hard-headed part, but the speech-language pathology professor.

Pepper: Yes. And since speech pathology is my 'other' profession, I really had a fun time writing this story.

SDC: I'll bet you did. Before we go, please tell us where our readers can find your book and also learn a little more about you.

Pepper: The Thorn Bearer can be found in both print and digitally right now at Amazon. It is also available for NOOK books.

SDC: And where can we connect directly with you?

Pepper: Come on by my website.

www.pepperdbasham.com

I'm also on Facebook.

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Pepper-D-Basham .

I'm also on Twitter. https://twitter.com/pepperbasham

SDC: It's been great getting to know a little about you and your books, Pepper and having the opportunity to share you with those who come A Pen for Your Thoughts and Mine. I wish you the best with your writing and especially your new book, The Thorn Bearer. It sounds like an excellent read.

Have you discovered ANGELHOOD yet? We want to tell you all about it.

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 24 Apr 2015 13:32:00 +0000

It is a joy to share fellow authors with you here at my blog: A Pen for Your Thoughts. This week I'm privileged to introduce you to Y.A. author A.J. Cattapan so we can tell you about her exciting new release, Angelhood.

Read on and learn a little about Amy's new book
and a little about Amy herself.

A. J. Cattapan (Amy) is an author, speaker, and middle school English teacher living in the Chicago area. Amy's published works include the young adult novel Angelhood, a story in Chicken Soup for the Soul: From Lemons to Lemonade.

Amy has also written short stories and articles in numerous magazines for teens and children, including Highlights and Hopscotch for Girls. She will also be featured in a recipe and corresponding story anthology due out this summer.

Seventeen-year-old, theater geek Nanette believes her life her life is headed toward stardom on Broadway. But when her dream theater college rejects her and her best friend dies in a terrible accident, Nanette decides the world would be better off without her. Unfortunately, the afterlife offers something less than a heavenly situation. Trapped between alternating periods of utter darkness and light, Nanette is stuck following a high school freshman around. Soon, she learns she’s a guardian angel, and the only way she can earn her wings is to keep her young charge, Vera, from committing the same sin she did—taking her own life.

Unfortunately, Nanette is missing more than just her wings. She has no tangible body or voice, either. Frustrated by her inability to reach out to Vera and haunted by memories of her old life, Nanette wants to give up, but then she sees what happens when another Guardian at the high school turns his back on his charge. The shock is enough to supercharge Nanette’s determination. If she’s going to find peace in the afterlife, she’s going to have to discover what living is really all about.

Vinspire Publishing is filled with a number of novels and nonfiction books that are available for you and all your hungry reader friends.You will find a plethora of good reading for readers of all ages by authors you might already know. I'm blessed to add that I have been privileged to be a part of Vinspire Publishing for the last seven years.

You can pick up Amy's new book here

http://www.amazon.com/Angelhood-J-Cattapan/dp/0990304264/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1429881744&sr=8-1&keywords=angelhood

In the meantime here is our question for you this week:

WHAT DO YOU LOOK FOR IN A YOUNG ADULT NOVEL AND WHY ARE BOOKS FOR THIS AGE GROUP IMPORTANT THESE DAYS?

Drop us a comment here when you get a chance.

We want to hear your thoughts.

To learn more about the books and authors at Vinspire Publishing click on this link:

http://www.vinspirepublishing.com/#!our-titles/cfvg

RONE AWARDS VOTING THIS WEEK ...

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 20 Apr 2015 19:55:00 +0000

http://indtale.com/reviews/inspirational/not-quite-angel-decisions-4

http://indtale.com/2015-rone-awards

Hope you'll take the time to vote. Lots of good books to vote on. I was honored to be included in the inspirational category.

http://indtale.com/2015-rone-awards-week-two

FAMILY TREASURES

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 10 Apr 2015 14:08:00 +0000

FAMILY HISTORY IS A JOY TO LOOK BACK ON FOR MEMORIES AND TO LEARN OUR BACKGROUNDS. I'M BLESSED TO BE ABLE TO SHOW A LITTLE ABOUT MY HUSBAND'S PAST (HIS MOM AND DAD'S FAMILY CRESTS) AND MY OWN ON BOTH MY MOM'S AND DAD'S SIDES.

BUT THE MOST IMPORTANT HERITAGE FOR US IS

THE FAMILY WE BELONG TO NOW AS WE HAVE BEEN GRAFTED INTO

THE FAMILY OF JESUS CHRIST.

Because He Lives

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 03 Apr 2015 19:35:00 +0000

God sent His son, they called Him, Jesus;

He came to love, heal and forgive;

He lived and died to buy my pardon,

An empty grave is there to prove my Savior lives!

Because He lives, I can face tomorrow,
Because He lives, all fear is gone;
Because I know He holds the future,
And life is worth the living,
Just because He lives!

What An Amazing Guy!

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 10 Mar 2015 21:03:00 +0000

Join me in saying hello to Nolan Carlson, a prolific writer, adventurer, who, like so many authors, finds himself retreating into his own world as he dreams up new stories.

I grabbed hold of Nolan to see what we could learn about him. A very interesting man, indeed.

SDC: Welcome to A Pen for Your Thoughts, Nolan. Please tell us a little about yourself.

Nolan: I started writing as a kid. I wrote mysteries, sports, and animal stories. I loved to write fiction and retreat into a "world of my own". I wrote three manuscripts while I was in the military service. When I got out of the service, I put my writing aside and went back to graduate school and raising our four kids with my wife, Lorena. I taught special education and owned a restaurant at the same time.

All our kids finally became college graduates. When I was close to my 40th birthday, I decided to take up writing once again. I sent excerpts of my writing to several New York literary agents and one day I got a telegram from the Glenn Cowley Agency. He liked my writing and I went on to sell five titles to Berkeley Publishing of New York.

My agent told me that a new publishing house from Melbourne, Florida was looking for quality books for middle school boys. He asked me if I had any interest. I wrote a book called "Summer and Shiner" depicting my boyhood in a small rural town in Kansas in the Flint Hills.

SDC: Then you were writing for middle school boys related to your own childhood.

Nolan: Yes. We grew up much like Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn. It was wonderful. When I sent the manuscript to the new publishing company, it was chosen to be their lead hardback book. They received over 300 entries nation-wide so I felt very fortunate. 75% of the book and the series is fact and 25% is fiction.

SDC: Who was Shiner? Was he real?

Nolan: Shiner was our pet raccoon that we released from a trap. The book Summer and Shiner was held by Disney Studios for six months as a movie option. From that point it won the Hearth Award and was presented first prize at an authors' banquet. It also was favorably reviewed by Booklist in Chicago.

SDC: Where did all this take you next?

Nolan: This initial book became the first of a series: Summer and Shiner, Shiner's Return, Shiner and King, Shiner and Baseball, Shiner and Hobo Joe, and Super-kid vs. Super-bully.

SDC: It sounds like a wonderful series! Have you written anything else?

Nolan: I've written many other books including: The Wizard of Halloween, Balbena's Grave, The Lopsided Angel, Vagabond Jack (wolf-dog), Lewis and Clark; Davey Hutchins and many more.

SDC: Those sound awesome, Nolan. What specific book would you like to tell us about this week?

Nolan: It's called Broken Vows. This book is a departure from my previous genres. It seemed to fit better in Vinspire Publishing's list of genres.

SDC: Before you tell us more about Broken Vows, what other interesting tidbit can you tell us about yourself?

Nolan: My wife and I have been married for 44 years. She is a former Catholic nun and a retired algebra teacher and for the past 14 years she has worked full time volunteering at Community Health Ministry helping others. I obtained a Ph.D. some years back and now teach two college courses, counsel people, go to schools presenting programs on reading and writing, and of course have a book in the making at all times.

SDC: A busy life and an adventurous family for sure, and they must be an encouragement to you as an author.

Nolan: We have four grown children and six grandchildren. Currently, one of our daughters is courageously fighting 3rd stage brain cancer. She has received love and support from many people as well as the fine folks at Vinspire Publishing. The CEO of Vinspire is always helpful, creative and supportive as well as the authors. I feel proud to be among these skilled and creative folks.

SDC: Nothing could be more encouraging than that. As we finish could you tell us a little about your newest book, Broken Vows?

BROKEN VOWS

One man's promise to God becomes his torment.

When Fr. Dan, a charismatic priest starts his first assignment at St. Francis, he helps to transform a tired, complacent parish into one of renewed faith and hope. He’s loved by the parishioners and knows he is following the right path. Still, there is something missing from his life, something he can’t place until a beautiful war widow arrives from Alabama.

Lucy captivates him and steals his heart. Though there’s been a hint from the Vatican for decades that someday priests will be allowed to marry, Fr. Dan doesn’t believe it will happen in his lifetime. So he’s left with a painful choice. Does he choose to love Lucy from afar or walk away from his commitment to God and the Catholic Church?

SDC: Thank you so much for coming to see us here at A Pen for Your Thoughts! Your books with the story of your life is a book in itself!

Here is an opportunity for you to pick up Nolan's book. Click on the link above. You will be glad you did!

Everyone Loves Christmas in Spring, Right?

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 07 Mar 2015 20:18:00 +0000

I feel privileged to be able to share another author with you here on my bog. Please join me in saying hello to Evelyn M Timidaiski, a South Carolina gal.

SDC: Welcome to A Pen for Your Thoughts, Evelyn. Please tell us a little about yourself.

EMT: I am a widow with two grown children and one grandchild and have enjoyed taking to the task of writing after retiring from my profession as a Biology teacher. While I do still work with special students, I chose to start writing to fill the void I felt after leaving my teaching job. My home is in Lexington, S.C.where I also spend time with my two pups, Fancy and Bitsey.

SDC: When did you actually begin writing?

EMT: Back in 2010. I finished my first book in 2012 and published my first book last year.

SDC: How does it feel being a published author?

EMT: I'm still trying to get used to the title, "author." My first book is called Holly and Snowflake Christmas. I'm waiting anxiously to see how readers react to my novel and writing style.

SDC: What else inspires your writing days?

EMT: I have a great sense of humor and incorporate this into my characters. Writing has given me the opportunity to tell the stories that keep popping up inside me. Whether it's Romantic Suspense, Mystery, or Fantasy, I love to dive right in and explore the possibilities.

SDC: Tell us what you are working on right now.

EMT: I currently have several projects going, including the sequel to Holly. It's called Return to Snowflake.

SDC: I wish you the best of luck on your new book. Before we go, please tell us a little more about yourself.

EMT: I taught both Biology and Science for twenty eight years. In my novels, I call upon that experience when writing vivid descriptions of nature. Writing is very similar to teaching. You need to make a plan, keep it interesting, and use discipline for everything to work.

I recently wrote an article about Native American Characters in novels. It can be found on Desert Breeze Publishing. I've had a fascination with Native Americans since childhood. I wanted to write a Christmas Book and I had just been to Arizona so I combined the two.

Snowflake is an actual town in Arizona. I used the name, but made up everything else about the town. Desert Breeze has asked me to make this a series. The series name is Snowflake and the next book comes out November first. It will be called, Return to Snowflake. Notah, the hero in Snowflake is a heart stopping, sizzling Navajo Police Chief. He falls hard for a California, biker girl who comes speeding through his town.

I try very hard to incorporate real Native American tradition and show the plight of the Native Americans who live on reservations.

SDC: Give us a glimpse of your new book.

Holly Dunnell has always dreamed of the perfect family Christmas, but never experienced one. When her famous racer father is killed on the track, she steals a priceless prototype and tries to ride away her grief.

Proud Native American Police Chief Andrew Notah works hard to protect the people of Snowflake, AZ, and the nearby reservation. Burned by past experiences, he never expects to meet a woman who will love him and embrace his heritage.

After arresting Holly for speeding recklessly, Andrew is attacked by a cougar. Tending his wounds Holly discovers the real meaning of Christmas and love.

Christmas morning brings a warrant for Holly's arrest. Andrew must choose between love and duty.

SDC: It sounds very inviting. It's been a pleasure sharing you with the guests who come by A Pen For Your Thoughts! How can the readers reach you, Evelyn?

EMT: missevietalks@wordpress.com

For those of you who are interested, here is a link to where you can pick up your copy of Holly and Snowflake Christmas.

What better way to celebrate Christmas and love in spring?

All about Millie's Story with Pamela Woods-Jackson

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 02 Mar 2015 15:31:00 +0000

Pamela Jackson is a former high school English teacher and author of "Confessions of a Teenage Psychic," which was a 2011 Epic Ebook Contest finalist. Her YA novel "Genius Summer" was released in November, 2014, by Vinspire Publishing. It was a finalist in the 2013 San Francisco Writers Contest and received high marks in the 2013 Pacific Northwest Writers Contest. She also has a contemporary romance "Certainly Sensible" inspired by Jane Austen's "Sense and Sensibility" due to be released in 2015. Jackson lives in Carmel, Indiana with her two rescue cats, Molly and Phoebe, and works part time at Conner Prairie Interactive History Park.

Genius Summer

Millie Olson would rather imagine life in the nineteenth century than face her 21st century life. She’s overwhelmed by peer and family expectations, since everyone assumes the sixteen-year old valedictorian of a private high school will naturally attend a top college. Millie wants to stay home in Indianapolis, take online courses and volunteer at the history museum. Her grandmother’s not having it.

Gran has a plan to help Millie overcome her fears during a summer visit to Oklahoma. First, Gran encourages Millie to renew her friendship with high school quarterback Zach MacMillan. Millie’s not interested, preferring to spend her time sorting through the antiques in Gran’s attic, where she finds a diary written in 1865 by Synthia Whitfield. Gran’s second ploy, convincing Millie to visit the small nearby college her father attended, works beautifully when she must take the journal to Zach’s professor father for evaluation. Millie admits she needs Zach’s help navigating the campus, and despite her reluctance, a friendship blossoms.

Millie and Synthia have parallel lives, albeit 147 years apart. They both have younger siblings, but orphaned Synthia must find a way to get all three of them from Missouri to join family in Texas. She signs on to travel with a wagon train, and then drives the covered wagon herself! Obstacles occur in Indian Territory, but Synthia is undaunted. She delivers them all safely, and reaching across two centuries, inspires Millie with the confidence she needs to face her future.

Q. Where did you get your inspiration to write this particular story?

A. As a former high school English teacher, writing for and about teens felt natural to me. In 2001 my uncle asked me to write the story of our ancestor Synthia Whitfield Yeager, and the courageous journey she took as a teenager after her parents died. At the time I was teaching full time, and furthermore had never thought about writing a book. After he passed away a few years later and I'd already written a couple of novels, I decided to give it a try. Unfortunately, without my uncle, who was the family historian, I couldn't find enough information to flesh out an entire book about Synthia, so I decided to frame her story within a contemporary YA. The result was Millie's story of discovering Synthia's journal and the inspiration she derives from it.

Pamela Jackson's book is available for purchase at :

Drop by and say hello to Pam at her Facebook page
www:vinspirepublishing.com/
www.facebook.com/pages/Pamela-Woods-Jackson/

Thoughts on Critiquing from an Inspirational POV with Patricia Reece Krugel

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 23 Feb 2015 21:16:00 +0000

Critiquing in Faith

Patricia Reece Krugel

ACFW - Scribes 218

Recently, while mulling over the aspects of writing an article on critiquing, I recalled the blessings I had received. These were unexpected blessings that came as a direct result of pouring over other writers’ chapters. It was from examining the efforts of others that I received more knowledge on how to improve my writing—skills I would need if I ever wanted to effectively labor for the Lord.

I sat down at my keyboard to write that article. It occurred to me, then, I really hadn’t thought that much about the technique, since I somehow managed to do a reasonable job.

After starting several drafts, struggling each time to explain what transpired, I realized the only way to tell this was to forget about coming at it from a cerebral perspective. I should write about the process. So I did, and here it is.

I downloaded a chapter, selected “Review” on the menu and clicked on “Track Changes”. The easy part behind me, I started to work through the chapter, looking for what didn’t seem to flow or make sense to me. At the same time, I attempted to track the contents for any unfinished thoughts or actions.

As I read, something surprising happened. I lost my place and fell into the chapter, unable to hold the complete story in my memory, thus making it impossible for me to single out what could possibly help the writer. Unwilling to give up, I started over and crawled through that chapter until I could point out what didn’t seem to fit for me, the reader. It wasn’t easy, or quick, but I stayed at it. A defeating spirit of fear attacked with thoughts such as, ‘You can’t say that. You’ll hurt their feelings’, or ‘You’re not accurate.’

Finally, though, I did finish. I had poured over that chapter for just over two hours.

My penchant for small details had surfaced, too. A trait that drove my husband to the point of eyeballs tipped up, whites showing. This became especially so, when I acted on that little voice inside my head—the one that said, ‘You’ve got to tell that writer every little detail. Don’t overlook a thing.’

Would the small details of all those remarks twang the nerves of the person receiving my critique? I didn’t know, but I had to be truthful with the writer. Reason insisted I should leave something for others to comment on; however, that urge to cover it all surged through me.

A willingness to help kept me bent over my keyboard. I found that I would need more time than I could spare to fulfill my obligations unless something changed. I worked to absorb the chapters more quickly, while I still tracked the details. After a while I managed to cut my two hours down to less than one.

I developed a routine.

First, do a read-through while I made notations.
Then lay the chapter aside until later—in some cases the next day.
Finally, go through it again, checking to see if the previous remarks still applied.

Soon, my life settled into a daily struggle to write my own good story while I worked to stay up with completing my partners’ critiques.

I learned important things during those years. One significant discovery was that critiquing the work of others made me a better writer.

The instruction books that lined my coffee table, lay around my writing room, and inhabited other areas of my home, were just one way of learning the skills needed for good writing. When I critiqued another’s work, I gained more experience with the organization of narrative and dialog, as well as how to use timed, effective beats.

I cannot point to any one person or manuscript as an example. Still, critiquing a variety of genres while continuing to work on succeeding chapters by the same writers, brought a better flow to my own work. I found my words and ideas fit into my manuscript more easily than before I had joined a critique group.

Another thing I found was how important the Lord was in my struggle to critique, as I took my burdens to Him. “But…but, Lord, I didn’t mean to say it like that. Did I hurt their feelings from marking so much that I thought needed an improvement?” The quiet response resonated in my spirit. I was to always be honest in my opinions.

Occasionally I would go back to review my critiques, after they went out, just to be sure I was satisfied with the job I’d done. This was especially good if I didn’t have any communication with the person after that, although most writers send a thank you. Then, once in a while, the Lord would convict me on a callused response or an unclear or hastily written remark. When that happened, I contacted the writer to more fully explain my remark. Through all this, I found a kinder way to make my comments.

It took me awhile to mature in my writing experience. Slowly, I learned to follow the Lord’s instructions on what to focus on—what was important.

God didn’t speak directly to me, but to my spirit. I understood so clearly that I had a responsibility to His other Christian writers. Were they under attack from the author of confusion, the great deceiver that comes to wreak havoc on the Lord’s writers? I didn’t know what was going on in their lives, so I worked to soften my responses—a kind of diplomacy I didn’t have before, if you will.

Every so often I go back to the Lord with my uncertainties. He places that desire in me to discount feelings or thoughts of inadequacy. Simply do the work and enjoy it, as I learn.

It has been ten years since I joined the craft of writing, and almost that long since my discovery that I work for the Lord, not myself. I still marvel at some of the things I experienced under His patient, guiding hand.

No one should ever write alone. I think we must open our hearts and talents to help others. After I become a published author, I’ll consider myself under assignment, taking my instructions from the great author, Himself.

When I shall come under attack from the deceiver as I write on the front lines for my Lord, and I surely will, I will receive exactly what I have sown into my efforts. No one has ever picked grapes from an apple tree, no matter how much they desire a cluster. If I want patience with my work, I should be patient while critiquing the work of others. Regardless of how many times I point out an issue. Who knows, that person may learn by rote—repetition. If so, they have a difficult enough time already.

One problem for me was POV. How could I critique a writer’s work if I didn’t understand that, myself? I was sure no one ever suffered like I did, trying to master that elusive skill. But, largely from working with critique groups, I finally did learn. Then I wanted to do cartwheels as I shouted that I now understood. If you have just started to write, spend some time in the trenches critiquing manuscripts. You’ll receive skills that you need.

There is one important thing that the critique process has made clear to me in the years I’ve struggled to write. God is good. He doesn’t call anyone to write without providing what they need to be successful. We are required to learn. If we don’t we won’t progress. But He will send people to us with suggestions or other things we need to move forward. As long as we are faithful to write, He is faithful to help us.

It’s my firm belief that a writer is not blessed with a story only to have it not succeed. It may be, in fact; that what we’re writing isn’t necessarily what we’re called to write. That story stuck in our craw, the one we feel He’s put in our spirit, could have been put there as an exercise in learning how to write. The big one that we write could be yet to come. We have to trust Him in all we do, believe that He will do exactly what His word says, because in the end we can only do it through Him and expect to be content in our work.

When I work for the Lord, I hold my position. Chapters that irritate me in a read-through cause me to double down in prayer when I critique them. If you feel you’d like to improve on your critiques, then ask the Lord to help you. Roll up your sleeves, put away your doubts, and get started

God is the giver of all good things. If He intends for a writer to succeed, they will.

Patricia Reece Kriugel

Romance of Redemption

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 17 Feb 2015 16:35:00 +0000

A Romantic at Heart

Intreat me not to leave thee… ~Ruth 1:16b

I just finished refreshing my way through the Book of Ruth after a long absence from that portion of the Bible.

You remember Ruth and Boaz…the beautiful romance of redemption. To me it is one of the most beautiful love stories God gave us in His Word. I am a romantic at heart, anyway, but there is so much in this book that reaches deep into any person’s heart.

Boaz (the hero) was a man of honor—a man who greatly loved the Lord God. Boaz served God with all of his heart. He was not a priest -- just a regular man. He did not have a pastoral ministry. He simply loved the Lord, and it showed by nearly everything he did.

The way Boaz represented his family was respected by everyone. He stood for something. When men stand for something, as Boaz did, it usually means they are standing for an important issue for their lives. Maybe they don’t necessarily consider their lives as types of Christ, but when I look back at Boaz, I realize how he could be considered to be that very thing.

Boaz was several years older than Ruth, (the heroine of this book). God showed no concern for that. He chose Ruth so she could bring a fresh sparkle to Boaz’s life, and, boy, did she. Boaz brought to her life a joy and refreshing.

What better hero and heroine can there be than that?

When Ruth lost her husband back in her homeland, she needed solidarity from another area so she went to a different place to get it. Where she came from, she had no one to whom she could entrust her life. She also knew little about God.

It’s interesting how she could have easily turned around; she could have gone back…but she didn't. Ruth listened instead to the spirit speak to her heart, and by doing so, she became obedient to God's call . Because of her obedience to God, when Boaz entered the picture, she saw God's better way.

From the minute Boaz spotted Ruth coming and taking her place in his field, he was drawn to her as well. It didn’t matter to him she was a foreigner. The moment his eyes focused her way, he was impressed. Doubtless, he saw more in this young woman than meets the natural eye.

We come to see how God knew what was going on between those two. He knew what they would do before they did. He obviously wanted Ruth to leave the land she came from and go to a distant land just so she and Boaz would meet.

Just think. If Ruth had not been obedient to God -- if she hadn’t gone to Boaz, it would have changed the entire course of history.

I wonder how willing I would be to leave the things I am familiar with for the will of God in my life even if I had no idea where it might lead.

Ruth showed me she was not only willing she was loyal, compliant, faithful to follow through. In the 10th verse of Chapter 3, it showed she was also eager to accept God's choice for her. She showed this by immediately accepting Boaz’s hand and proposal. A man she didn't even know.

Ruth showed her trust in the Lord here too. She listened to Him speak to her heart. she followed through with His direction as taught to her by her former mother-in-law.

How often do I show my trust in God in all things?

As Ruth and Boaz became one we find that later she became great grandmother to the famous King David, who by lineage takes us right down to the Lord Jesus Christ. What a great example both were in showing all of us how important it is to be obedient and willing to trust the Lord in all things. I couldn't think of a more perfect ending to a love story, could you?

The Book of Ruth -- Truly a Romance of Redemption!

from

I See God in the Thorns n Thistles

Shirley Kiger Connolly