Joyce Magnin's Blog, page 7

Book Poetry

I am THE RELUCTANT PROPHET
a PILGRIM AT TINKER CREEK
feeling ON THE EDGE OF GRACE,
sometimes BETRAYED
but always
standing in TRISTAN'S GAP.
I am DON QUIXOTE tilting at windmills
a LADY KNIGHT
in search of PLOT AND STRUCTURE.
I live THE WRITING LIFE because
I KNOW WHY THE CAGED BIRD SINGS.

My Book poem. Your turn.
BTW,I wish I could take the credit for this idea.

Stoopid! From Planet Stoopid!

Here's the thing, I have done many, many stupid things in my life. But this morning might have been the dumbest. If fact if Stupid was a planet it would take ten thousand years for the light from planet Dumb to reach Earth.
Here's my story:
I woke and proceeded to make my cup of coffee, which I like to do in an old fashioned kind of way—no K-Cups or Mr. Coffee machines. No, I prefer to boil water in a tea kettle and then pour it through the grinds in filter sitting directly over my favorite morning coffee mug—which for some reason I do not use any other time but morning. But that's neither here nor there.
Usually this little routine goes off without a hitch but I've been under a lot of stress lately—deadlines, family, I've had a cold, work at school issues, learning more and more about social networking that just gives me the willies and makes me feel so public like a frog, needing to update my website, financial woes, missing family, etc. etc. Anyhoo, the kettle squealed and I made my coffee and sat down in the living room—which btw is about five feet from the kitchen!!! I enjoyed my morning java, my wake-up call, my sun is on the rise cuppa Joe, when I began to notice an odd smell. I shrugged it off thinking that perhaps it was the cat—he did just use the littler box and can be very fragrant from time to time. But as I sat there the odor was growing in intensity and still I did not get off the couch, put my coffee down and investigate.
No, I sat until I had finished the coffee. It was say, twenty minutes and the odor which smelled like a car fire continued to intensify. But no, I stayed my ground thinking it was something outside, perhaps.
Finally, I went to the kitchen and there it was, my beautiful, yellow tea kettle burning away on the most incredible orange burner I had ever seen. The smell, the smoke nearly knocked me down. I'm sure it was toxic!!!! I turned the exhaust fan on, turned off the burner and lacking any viable brain cells at this point grabbed the tea kettle. That's right. I burned my palm! Which now I had to put under cold water as the pot continued to sizzle on the stove coil. Once the pain subsided I grabbed a potholder and . . . well the tea kettle was sealed to the burner. I had to pry it off with a knife but it left lovely yellow paint on the coils which I think will be there until Jesus comes again.
I rinsed out my kettle. It seemed okay. Some of the paint was of course missing on the bottom but hey, I wanted another cup of coffee.
Soooooo, I filled the kettle and set it on the burner next to the offending burner and guess what, that's right, I began to smell that same tire dump fire smell again. This time, I didn't wait, of course I as holding my hand under the cold water again—but I turned the burner off and, yep, that's right, the kettle was now sealed to a second burner.
Criminy, I pried it off and I now have two stovetop burners with yellow paint smears that I'm sure will burn for eternity.
That's my story.

Frosty Visits the Holy Family

This is my favorite time of the year. Christmas. I love it all, the shopping the giving the decorations. Oh my, the decorations! Especially lawn displays. I love to watch otherwise lovely suburban properties transform into festive, winter wonderlands. Oh, the joy of watching homeowners string lights, some blinking, some not, all over their houses. To blink or not to blink seems to be a highly personal preference. Personally, I am nonblinking but, hey, to each his own. We see white lights, bright lights, multicolor lights, houses draped with only single- or two-color lights—and again it's highly personal. I prefer many colors.

Large characters begin to appear, usually Santa and reindeer, gingerbread men and their gingerbread houses, snowmen, elves, angels, and, of course, the plastic holy family. You've seen them: Mary and Joseph and the baby Jesus, who always looks like he's got a full diaper and for some reason is rarely swaddled properly. This disturbs me. It's cold out there on the lawn. Often an angel is lurking around the nativity. Sometimes this angel is huge and no longer matches the holy family. It stands behind them with large spreading wings—sometimes blinking, sometimes not.

I prefer nonblinking angels. But I suppose if you need an angel, a giant one is the way to go. And the wise men are most of the time present and situated off to the left as though they are still arriving. Balthazar, it seems, is nearly always face-down on the lawn. Am I right? He always falls down. Strong winds in Bethlehem.

What I find especially interesting is how the homeowners combine not only the religious aspects of the holiday but also the secular. Notice, however, as you are making your holiday wanderings this month that almost without fail the religious icons are placed on the one side of the lawn, while the secular are on
the other. Except, of course, for one house I like to visit that has Santa in his sleigh being pulled by three reindeer flying over Mary and Joseph and Jesus. He's actually hanging from a tree limb, but the effect works. I used to wonder what could possibly be going through the homeowner's mind. "Oh look, Joseph, it's Santa. I told you he was real. And look, he left me an Easy-Bake Oven."

Now we have these giant inflatable figures popping up or blowing up on lawns everywhere. Great big Frosty the Snowmen, oversized penguins, gigantic Santas, and even incredibly large inflatable nativities. My favorite is the one with the holy family inside a snow globe complete with mini blizzards every three minutes—swirling pieces of plastic in a tiny vortex. I mean, wouldn't you just love to have been a fly on the wall at the research and development meeting that created that one. "Oh, oh, I know, let's put them inside a snow globe with swirling snow bits. People love that."

And during the day when the blow-ups are turned off. Geeze, it's Christmas carnage all over the lawns.

But to the homeowners' credit, I must say I am impressed and dazzled by how so many have chosen to keep Christ in their Christmas decorations. My father loved Christmas and always decorated the house . . . and not with those tiny sissy lights. He used only the large, manly bulbs that exploded when you stepped on them or threw them against a wall. He never put any blatant religious symbols on the lawn.

No, our nativity had a special, sacred place—on the HiFi. That's right, the HiFi! That large chunk of furniture with the sliding door on top? For you young people, that's where we hid the record player. Uhm, I could almost see Mary and Joseph swaying in time with Bing Crosby and Nat King Cole. Actually, they were vibrating from the beat of the woofer inside the cabinet. Nice, except there was that one time when someone stuck an elf inside the crèche. We don't discuss it anymore. Except it's hard to have a crèche now without little visitors. Barbie, GI Joe, various Lego people, a lama, a zebra or two. The year the chipmunks visited the holy family—Alvin, Simon and Theodore.

Perhaps this memory is why I am so affected by Christmas lawn décor. I can still hear my father hollering that elves and Zebras have no business in the manger. Just between us, I think it was my mom who committed the crime because that little tiny elf continued to appear and reappear throughout the year in the strangest places, and when discovered, Flossie would crack just the tiniest grin and her eyes would sparkle like tinsel.

But then one day, just a few years ago, as I was traveling I saw that someone had put Frosty the Snowman in line with the three kings. And it struck me: This is the gospel. So what if there's an elf in your nativity? Or a Frosty in your three kings procession. Go ahead, invite the gingerbread men to see the baby Jesus, move Santa closer, put those snowmen right in there. All are welcome to visit with Jesus. So this year, if you are tempted to get upset when someone puts an elf in your nativity, don't. It's all right. We know elves are only fiction, but maybe he could represent those who need Jesus, just as they are, dressed in an elf suit even.

Ch-Ch-Changes

Here's the thing, I've been thinking about lately, nothing stays anymore. Particularly where technology is concerned. I'm finding this very unnerving. I upgraded my iPhone in August and now I want the new iPhone 4S. It's been three months. Three months! I'm sick of it. If you buy a new car it's depreciated before you drive it off the lot. Purchase a new computer? It's old the next day. It's true with everything from coffee makers to cameras to the food we eat. They (whoever they are) are constantly fiddling with our stuff. How can we make it better, sweeter, less caloric, less fat, faster, more innovative? Can we add a DVD or better yet, Blue-Ray to it? How many pixels is your camera phone? Oh, too bad, that's a lot of mega pixels but they just came out with a camera with a bazillion more pixels. I mean really, someone needs to slow down. Books? Who needs paper when you can give the world yet another screen. How many screens do you have in your house? Go on, count them. I currently have six screens and I don't mean window. Six screens from which to participate with the world, to do life. I love technology, don't get me wrong. That's part of the issue. I want every new gadget that comes along. I can't afford it but I still want it. Yet I'm worried. I can foresee a day when our gadgets are simply part of us, connected, wired. That scares me. But I really wish I could have a gadget for longer than twenty minutes before it's obsolete.
I worry about young people and the effect this might have on them. I didn't grow up in a world where everything I purchased became useless the next day. I could believe in my stuff, hang on to my stuff for so much longer. But now a days every time I turn around something is new again. How can anyone believe in a world that in constantly in flux?
Thankfully God is not in flux. He never changes. We don't worship God 2.0. We don't need a screen to be friends with him. His truths remain the same, except, "Because of the LORD's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail.
They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness."
Uhm, I suppose even God's compassions have to be new every morning. His children keep changing.

ReJoyce! I'm Back

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Here's the thing, I've been terribly neglectful as far as social media is concerned and I apologize. It has been a strange month as I met deadlines, forged new alliances, researched new ideas, made new deals, tended schoolyard boo boos and well, I've been busy. But I have some room to breathe now so let me bring you all up to date on my mad cap adventures.

The most exciting thing is that I completed Harriet Beamer Take the Bus and sent it off to my wonderful editor, Bob Hudson who I so wish I could have with me here, watching over me as I write. The man is a genius. Harriet is scheduled to release May 1, 2012. I can't wait to see it all pulled together.

I have three other projects in various stages of development and I am excited about all three. But it takes time to juggle all this. I'm writing another middle grade novel called CAKE which is about two magical sisters who take in foster children. I love writing abut magic and wonder and possibilities. Which is why I might have been drawn to Steampunk. I'm writing a proposal for a Steampunk YA novel now. I hope it's good. I think it is. Kind of a Willy Wonka meets Victorian England but in Massachusetts in 1839. Uhm, weird, I know but be patient. And of course the sequel to Harriet. I love Harriet and cannot wait to develop her even more in book two.

And then there is family. No need to say more except I am so excited to announce that my daughter and her beautiful family will be moving back to the east coast next month. They have been transferred to Maine. I'm so excited. I haven't even met my third grandson, Soren yet.

My son has discovered the joys and problems of keeping saltwater aquarium. It's a great hobby and he loves it. The boy knows so much about fish and coral and things like feather duster worms and anemones. He rocks. But saltwater takes are delicate and need a lot of care—hence several visits to Captain Nemo's Aquarium. I love the name and it kind of fits with the whole Steampunk thing right now.

And I've been hanging out with my middle daughter, Emily as much as I can. She's a senior now at West Chester University. I'm very proud of her. This also figures in the Steampunk thing. Not to give it away but, I named Emily for Emily Dickinson. Uhm, how does that figure.

Oh, and of course not to mention various and sundry visits to the ER, the doc, church things, and traveling. Yep. It's been a busy month. But still, I love being a writer and am so blessed in many ways.

And I'd like to announce a little giveaway. I will give away a copy of either Blame It On the Mistletoe or Carrying Mason to two lucky commenters. All you have to do is leave a comment and I will randomly pick two or three winners. Cool. Christmas is coming. These books make great gifts.

When Worlds Collide--Good Things Can Happen

Here's the thing, if only life came with an editor as sharp and wonderful as the man I am working with right now on my first book for Zondervan, maybe I wouldn't feel so cranky, overwhelmed, bloated and stupid today, oh and like a bit of a failure. How sweet would it be to have someone looking over you from say a mile up, getting the big picture, the macro view as it were and saying things like: "This is where your character arc takes a nose dive. Add another scene." Or, "Your timeline is not accurate you need to fill in these holes." Or, "That scene you just completed is really awful, delete it and never look back."
But alas and alack, life doesn't come with an editor. Not really. I know I know we have God and friends and therapy, retail and otherwise to help us gain perspective but sometimes I wish I had someone sitting on my shoulder taking a closer look at things, kind of a content editor, the person who takes that micro look at your every move, every indecision and tells you when to hold 'em and when to fold 'em, when to take that leap of faith and when to sit tight like a bloated tick on a hound dog.
Well, and here's the thing, I had this kind of interesting experience this week. I always suspected I have some kind of undiagnosed learning disability. I have trouble keeping things ordered and I can't follow a set of directions if it meant my life. My spatial intelligence is no better then Helen Keller's, believe me, if I fell down in the woods I would never get out and get eaten by wolves. And so, plotting is a big issue for me. I have to work very hard to keep my novels organized and my characters on track. But I suppose all authors have their strengths. Mine happens to be with character. I write characters and dialog really, really well. And hey, I'm not being egotistical. There is no crime in recognizing your talents and abilities. I will never understand a world where it is okay to say I'm a screw up but not so okay to say I'm good at something. Anyhoo, I was talking with a special ed/learning support teacher the other day at school, Miss Moran. She suggested I take something called a Multiple Intelligences Survey and see what kind of learner I am, where my intelligence lie, so to speak.
It was truly no surprise when I discovered that if it wasn't for words and language I would be in an institution using hand puppets to communicate. Words are my thing. Numbers? Not so much, Music? Nope. Nature? Somewhat. According to the test, I like pets although I cannot ascertain the logic of this. (bad score in logic) So unless my cat suddenly learns to speak and can tell me where my plot dropped down the rabbit hole of doom and turmoil, I'm pretty much on my own. So, I reported my findings to the teacher and she suggested I use graphic organizers like she does with her students. So I went back to the computer, Googled graphic organizer and found a boatload of resources that would help keep me organized. And I got to admit that I was skeptical as I perused the worksheets with graphics of cheeseburgers, trees and thought bubbles. But I printed out a couple that I thought might make sense. It was interesting to me how some of the Graphic Organizers, I'll call them GOs, made me nuts just to look at them. Too many clouds overlapping, or tree branches that seriously threatened my sanity. But I did find one with bubbles and arrows that I started using and you know what? It worked. It's not much different from using index cards but I had to keep them in order, too loosey goosey and I never knew what to do with the stack of cards after I made it. But this G.O. somehow forced my brain to work and see the plot and where my story was going in a way that actually made my brain FEEL better. Odd but true my fellow wanderers. So long story short, if any of you are thinking about using hand puppets to get you point across to the bank, try a graphic organizer. There's lots of them in all sorts of fun designs. Hope this helps. And thanks Miss Moran for helping me.

Does God Ever Say Sit Tight in Flood?

Here's the thing, does God ever say, "Sit tight," when the floodwaters are rising all around you? As pretty much everyone knows my part of the country has been under water for several days, starting with the visit from Irene and now the remnants of Lee and the disturbance of Katia or whatever the hurricane's name is. Fortunately I've been geographically high and dry but witness to area creeks or criks as we call them overflowing their banks and running slip shod over the streets into back yards and filling up otherwise peaceful valleys. I saw someone pull a bass out of newly formed pond on the golf course yesterday. Yeah, it's that weird. People are being evacuated and told to move to higher ground where it's safe from the rising waters.

Well it doesn't take too large an imagination to wonder what the heck is going and to cite end prophecy these days. But believe me, the end of days is not the problem. I mean seriously, if Jesus appeared this minute, I'm cool with that.
Bring on the bad weather. It's when bad weather comes in other ways, you know what I mean, personal issues, friends struggling, the death of a loved one, financial worries that keep you up at night, kids, career, did I mention financial issues? These are the floodwaters that tend to recede a lot more slowly than Ridley Creek.

These are the waters we can't run from. But there is higher ground. The higher ground that is Jesus. We can run to him and find safety and refuge. But some days that's hard. Someday we want God to find a way to evacuate us from the rushing emotional tides. But he simply says, "sit tight." That's what's happening for me right now. Some dangerous waters are rising all around me, there's nowhere to go and God is simply telling me to sit tight, don't run, don't evacuate even though everything inside of me wants to run. But, in this case, God is the chief safety monitor, the head of flood control and I'll listen to Him. So yeah, God does tell us to sit tight in a storm sometimes because he knows that evacuation could be worse.

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Here's the thing, it's back to school week. The best time of the year for me in so many ways. I consider September the New Year. I don't tend to be a summer person so watching the last horrid, humid, hot days slip away is bliss. I can already feel a cool snap in the air, the wind has changed. On the way to church yesterday I saw a Sugar Maple starting to turn, to burst into flames of color. This tree is always the first and I look forward to it each September. Based on this tree, I'm hoping it will be a vibrant autumn. Can you imagine Fall without color? I can't. Living in southeastern Pennsylvania affords me many opportunities and places to see the fall colors. My kids are too old or living their own lives for this now but we used to have an autumn basket every year. The kids would bring things to add, gorgeous leaves, acorns, bits of twigs, pine cones, oak seeds, you know, the kind that you can wear on your nose or drop and they spin like tiny helicopters. Occasionally an interesting a rock and hot wheels car. And of course FOOTBAll.I love to watch the game. I'm am Eagles fan of course. Yep, School, work, sweater weather, football, what else is there.

I live near a state park so it doesn't take much to go there and walk the well-worn paths, listening to the crunch of the fallen leaves beneath my feet. The smells of the forest come alive, musty, brown and primeval. But I get ahead of myself. Fall is not even upon us, around the corner as they say.

Tomorrow I start back at school. I am assistant in a classroom for a before and after school program and a lunch aide for kindergartner. I love the kiddoes and can't wait to see them tomorrow. Oh, we have our struggles but mostly it's fun. It's matter of patience and staying calm. Best not to raise my voice—which is hard for me anyway. I am honored that I get to work these kids. They bless me in so many ways.

And it's also back to writing, not that I ever left. But there is just something about September that makes me take it that much more seriously, makes it harder to procrastinate. I am working on finishing up edits for Harriet Beamer Takes the Bus, then it's back to my next book for Abingdon, then the next book for Zondervan and most likely another middle grade as well. Yeah, it's busy. But I wouldn't have it any other way. Busy is good. Fall is good. Kids are good. I wish all of you an excellent year.

Maybe I'll make an autumn basket this year. Uhm, what should I put in it?

Contest Alert

Here's the thing, in honor of my newly blue fingernails--hideously blue. I am offering to send a sign copy of my debut middle grade novel--Carrying Mason to two randomly selected people who paint their nails (finger or toe or both) blue--hideously blue and posts the image on Facebook. Honor system folks, these can not be previously painted nails.

Goodnight Irene!

Here's the thing, I might have said this before but it bears repeating under the current weather conditions here on the east coast. I am an electricity snob. There I said it. My biggest concern through this whole weekend will be that the power stays on. How shallow am I, right. Oh, I'll make sure there's enough peanut butter and fluff and cheese doodles to get us through for a day or two but seriously, I hate it when the lights go out. Think about it—okay, there's always a book or six to read but no TV means no video games and I am playing Fable 2 right now which is quite cool. No air conditioning, I can deal with that. But really NO video games. This is something I cannot abide. I can make sure all my devices are charged but of course I am neurotic enough to worry—but what if the power stays off for days—how will I charge my IPhone, my IPad my MacBook? How, please someone tell me how? Do you think if I drove some place that had power they'd let me charge up? Maybe a whole herd of hamsters running in their little wheels would generate enough power? Perhaps, a household windmill?

We've never been through a hurricane before, well not a real one. There was something a few years ago but all I remember is the weather lady wearing a windbreaker and standing in the street in ankle high water telling us to run for cover. Blizzards? Bring 'em on. Earthquakes? Ha, I laugh in your face. But wind and toppling power lines? Transformers blowing? Not a few of my favorite things.

Power is vital. Lights are necessary. I have deadlines to meet and well, here's the truth. We need the light.
In so many ways.