Beth Camp's Blog, page 80
January 8, 2013
Blog Banners? Better believe it . . .
Got a new banner up late last night because I got tired of futzing around with my name not appearing in the search line. A lot of the blogs I read by writers have very evocative banners -- a design that hints at the writing process or the genre or a mood the writer wants to instill.
So, why have I chosen a raven for my banner?
Ravens feed on dead things, their call at times a croak, their
So, why have I chosen a raven for my banner?
Ravens feed on dead things, their call at times a croak, their
January 7, 2013
Book marketing online? Do writers give a shiitake?
Back in 2011, Alan Rinzler's The Book Deal blog was listed by Writer's Digest as one of the best websites for writers interested in publishing their work. So I bopped over to take a look. I'll be back.
The Book Deal BLOG is hot! To my surprise, everything I've been reading from co-participants in the Ultimate Blog Challenge about marketing can be seen at work right here: Short paragraphs,
The Book Deal BLOG is hot! To my surprise, everything I've been reading from co-participants in the Ultimate Blog Challenge about marketing can be seen at work right here: Short paragraphs,
January 6, 2013
Can writers revise motivation?
One of my major characters is a wimp. Deidre has worked as a teacher, but she lives in a time (mid 19th Century) when few opportunities existed for women, and she has landed, literally, in a prison colony where 10,000 men vie for the attentions (and services) of 2,500 women. Lower class women found work as laundresses, cooks, servants, and prostitutes. Middle class women might find work as
January 5, 2013
About fan mail . . . and Yemanja
Katy, a friend of a friend, wrote a fan letter about my book, The Mermaid Quilt & Other Tales. More personal than a review, this letter between friends, recounted that she had opened the book at random and read about Yemanja in a poem set in Salvador, Bahia, Brazil. She was immediately pulled into the world of the poem because she had once visited there and had fallen in love with the people of
January 4, 2013
I don't remember . . .
I don’t remember what I learned last year.
In January, my love and I watched eagles winter at a mountain
lake.
In March, we traveled south to see sand hill cranes migrate.
My aunt’s paintings became more precious
with her death. And in March,
I stood beside my sister to mourn her husband’s
passing.
In June, my daughter became a mother; joy on joy,
our conversations are different now.
In January, my love and I watched eagles winter at a mountain
lake.
In March, we traveled south to see sand hill cranes migrate.
My aunt’s paintings became more precious
with her death. And in March,
I stood beside my sister to mourn her husband’s
passing.
In June, my daughter became a mother; joy on joy,
our conversations are different now.
January 3, 2013
The Value of Quiet . . .
Unfolding Fern, Botannical Gardens, Edinburgh
I know how to achieve perfect zen concentration -- the absence of any thought at all.
I just sit down at the end of a particularly intense day and open up my blog and attempt to write something. Nothing.
Aha, the zen master would say!
Nothingness!
This is the moment to embrace that sense of nothing. To be fully quiet. To take 10 or 15 or even
I know how to achieve perfect zen concentration -- the absence of any thought at all.
I just sit down at the end of a particularly intense day and open up my blog and attempt to write something. Nothing.
Aha, the zen master would say!
Nothingness!
This is the moment to embrace that sense of nothing. To be fully quiet. To take 10 or 15 or even
January 2, 2013
Animoto, book trailers, and me . . .
As part of the Ultimate Blog Challenge to write a blog entry a day through January, I hopped around to read what others in this group were working on. So far, I've found more entrepreneurial stuff. But I was pulled in by Sabrina Espinal's post on Making Your Own Video Is Easy!
Two hours later, I have a 30-second free video blurb for Standing Stones from Animoto. How fun is that? I did learn that
Two hours later, I have a 30-second free video blurb for Standing Stones from Animoto. How fun is that? I did learn that
January 1, 2013
Reading and writing and blogging . . . challenges
Victorian Era Women
Last night, I started reading Kate Grenville’s The Secret River and was transfixed by her evocative writing that spelled out character and setting so perfectly. As I fell into her story and admired how beautifully she captures external and internal realities, I thought of a writing prompt:We all have rich inner lives, informed by our experiences. Memories speak to us when
Last night, I started reading Kate Grenville’s The Secret River and was transfixed by her evocative writing that spelled out character and setting so perfectly. As I fell into her story and admired how beautifully she captures external and internal realities, I thought of a writing prompt:We all have rich inner lives, informed by our experiences. Memories speak to us when
December 20, 2012
A certain day became . . .
A certain day became
the beginning,
child of my heart.
For the first time I see
the end of my
days
and a beginning for you,
my daughter, and now, your child.
Dearest child, what lies before you?
I am privileged to watch you both
unfold into each day,
blossoms unending.
Today's poetry prompt came from Julie Jordon Scott over at Facebook's Writing Poetry Group. Thank you, Julie
the beginning,
child of my heart.
For the first time I see
the end of my
days
and a beginning for you,
my daughter, and now, your child.
Dearest child, what lies before you?
I am privileged to watch you both
unfold into each day,
blossoms unending.
Today's poetry prompt came from Julie Jordon Scott over at Facebook's Writing Poetry Group. Thank you, Julie
December 16, 2012
Angels weep . . .
Angels weep as
sparrows hop along the white patio fence,
knocking off little drifts of snow
by the light of a pale moon,
their feet too small for frostbite
this cold, spare morning
with more winter on the way.
The bird feeder sways empty.
The house is quiet;
Sunday rounds the week
with dreadful deaths.
We fill the bird feeder
and mourn.
Who is not affected by the shooting
sparrows hop along the white patio fence,
knocking off little drifts of snow
by the light of a pale moon,
their feet too small for frostbite
this cold, spare morning
with more winter on the way.
The bird feeder sways empty.
The house is quiet;
Sunday rounds the week
with dreadful deaths.
We fill the bird feeder
and mourn.
Who is not affected by the shooting
