Beth Camp's Blog, page 25

Octpowrimo 2: Time Travel

 If I could travel back in time,to that exact momentwhen my mother and father had sex, most likely after some wild party, would I have wished to be born?Maybe not. I could easily forget my first three decades,that is, until I met you some forty-six years ago.Tonight, my gratitude spirals back in time, to that tiny seed I once was, and to our daughter who began one New Year’s Eve,still a miracle.

OctPoWriMo 1: Seeing Light

These days, even a walk in a Japanese garden turns worrisome when others come too close, as I glance to see if they’re wearing their masks.All I want is to watch the colors in the leaves change as the afternoon breeze lifts through this tiny garden,and to take in the silence of the reflecting pool, disturbed only by the ripple of a carp’s fin as it turns about in waters soon cold.If ever we

Sept #5: To Revise That Cover or Not . . .

Got some really good news this week about a long project (over two years) of working with a voice actor to create an audio book for Years of Stone. I'm now reviewing the final recording and am so pleased to report the pacing, characterization, and overall sound quality is excellent.  But, I've been looking at book covers for historical fiction. Many of these covers feature people -- that is,

Sept #4: Don't Stop Thinking About Tomorrow

Today, after two weeks of not walking at all, we ambled along a wide trail in Lincoln Park. Fall colored the trees and the hills with brown and bright yellow and red. Haze covered the hills to the north and south, but the air quality was good enough so we didn't worry, at least about air pollution.Yet, cases of Covid-19 continue ramping up steadily in our county, as do deaths, each one a ripple

#BlogBattle: Conceal

 Writing challenges can be . . . a challenge! They take me in unexpected directions. This week's prompt comes from #BlogBattle. Writers are asked to post a short story (under 1,000 words) in response to one word. September's word, CONCEAL, led me to this dark tale, just 279 words."Conceal"    Mary was eleven. As she walked to school, past the hedge that marked the line between the duplex where

September #2: More on A Gentleman in Moscow

Why is it that writing challenges are so appealing? For September, the #BlogBattle challenge is simply one word: Conceal.A few weeks ago, I wrote about being enamored by reading Amor Towles, A Gentlemen in Moscow. Truly a leisurely read, one that inspires reflection of what those years from 1917 through about 1950 brought Russia – in sweeping change and on individual lives. Towles’ story-telling

IWSG Sept #1: On 'Beta Partners'

 Each month, IWSG challenges us to share our thoughts around a question (or some other issue that preoccupies us), to support and encourage writers at all stages of their careers.Here's the September 2 question - If you could choose one author, living or dead, to be your beta partner, who would it be and why? This month’s question sent me back to those earliest days when I dreamed one day of

August #4: About those days of poetry . . .

Mason Cooley said, " Reading gives us someplace to go when we have to stay where we are." Allen had just finished reading A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles (2016). He handed me the book and said, "You must read this."How can I not fall in love with a story that begins with a poem, followed immediately by a short transcript of the trial of Count Rostov in 1922 that ends with a threat? The Count

August #3: In Search of Answers

 Before the pandemic, we visited the Tucson Rock & Mineral Show, a sprawling exhibit with miles of rocks and dinosaurs and curiosities. There, tucked away in an obscure shop, we came across these amazing three puppets. The vendor picked them up from a friend of a friend, with no provenance. He's trying now to discover what culture or what artist created these puppets. And I'm curious enough, some

August #BlogBattle: "Everest: One Step at a Time"

Image by mdhondt at Pixabay Allen paid an extra $2 for a private room when he checked into the WanderLust Hostel on his first night in Kathmandu. All he wanted was to sleep for twenty-four hours straight. Instead, he wandered downstairs to the open air patio for a snack. A few young men sat on cushioned benches, talking about how to best hike to Mount Everest. Allen took his plate of momos,