Sarah Martin Byrd's Blog, page 18

Detours

There is a note pasted on the wall behind my computer. It reads: Leave room in your life for detours. It has taken me many years to fully accept this statement, and still at times I have to fight the urge to stick to my schedule and put blinders on to all else around me.

My third novel, The Color of My Heart has been staring at me for several weeks now. My editor, Jo Martin returned it to me almost two months ago all scratched up with red editor markings. All I have to do is find the time to correct all the little red impressions and send it back to Jo for round two of her editing. However, a few obstacles have been tossed into the mix and I've had to take a detour from my happy life of fine-tuning this next novel. Just when I think I'm right on schedule, my train becomes de-railed and I'm left sitting on the tracks for hours, maybe even days or weeks.

What could have gone wrong? My trip was all planned and on schedule. Life! We wake up every morning with our list of things to do and all of a sudden a phone call sends us in a different direction. Someone or something pulls us away from what we had planned for the day. How do you handle this? In my younger days I would become upset, and pity myself for not getting to do exactly what I wanted to do with every second of my time. Then something amazing happened. I realized the 24 hours in my day were not totally mine. Those hours were given to me as a gift. Do I choose to keep the gift to myself or do I share it with the world?

Once upon a time I didn't understand that a detour could lead me around a tragedy, or accident. What I might have considered a hindrance might just be a sanction, a benefit. That detour may very well have saved my life or the lives of others. Have you ever happened upon an accident and wondered what could have been if you hadn't been behind that slow poke on the highway? You very well may have been involved in the accident.

We may never know on this side of the earth why we are detoured from our own perfect plans. Why loved ones are sick? Why innocent people are sometimes the ones who pay for others mistakes, or why a novel, itching to go to press must be pushed aside because other things come before it. All these situations tell me that I am so glad I am not in control. I know if I got to do everything that I wanted to do in a days time my life would be such a mess. I would miss the blessings that life's detours have to offer.

Every day we awake to a clean sheet of paper. We begin our day by filling in the white space with our to-do list. Most of the lines will be filled with chores, maybe we'll pencil in a lunch break or a nice leisure walk in the sunshine. But do we leave enough space between the lines to account for the things that pop up in our daily lives?

With Easter still fresh on my mind I have to wonder what would have happened if Jesus had not said to His Father, "If thou be willing, remove this cup from me: nevertheless not my will, but thine, be done."  Jesus took a detour by way of the cross. All of a sudden my detours don't seem quite as complex, does yours?

Through the Eyes of Children

The sounds of a spring morning lighten my mood and make me smile. Birds chirping, the neighbors dogs barking, and across the way a farmer's John Deere tractor chugging along as the plow blades cut into the red clay. Glorious springtime!

Everywhere I look there is new growth. Grass, trees, garden vegetables, and our ten-year old white pine trees look as if they have grown a foot. The Dogwood and other flowering trees in my yard are absolutely lovely.

The outside world is not all that is growing and changing. Last week while visiting the 6th – 12th graders at Carteret County I witnessed young minds expanding. Heads filled with wonderful stories, and eyes a glow with excitement as we created tales together. What a privilege it was for me to share my writing experiences with these young people. I'd like to congratulate them on their behavior. They were so attentive and polite. Carteret County Administration you should be very proud!

I've have always heard that we may never know how we have influenced someone. I can only hope that these young people will take my advice and never give up on their dreams. Again, I'd like to thank Carteret County for inviting me to their beautiful county. May I always see the world through the eyes of children?

***

Today's post will be very short. My aunt who has Lou Gehrig's disease is getting much worse so most of my spare time has, and will be spent with her in the coming weeks. I will continue to post on Tuesdays, even if it is a few short lines. I welcome your prayers for my Aunt Lafayette.

I do however have some very good news. Guardian Spirit is now available in an ebook format. You can go to Amazon.com and download the Kindle version in a matter of minutes for only a few dollars.

Happy Spring to you all, see you next week!

Submission Guidelines

During the four years that I've been submitting my work to publishing companies I've gained a tremendous amount of knowledge. The most important being, each and every publishing company has their own idea of how they want information sent to them. Some are very picky, others more laid back and not as demanding. While some stay awake at night trying to think of just one more guideline they can add to their requirements.

Very soon I will be visiting Carteret County Public Schools. I am honored that they have asked me to share my story with their students. I love every opportunity I have to tell about my novel, Guardian Spirit, and my journey to becoming a published author.

Part of my presentation to the students will be to offer them a chance to write their very own short story or blog and summit it to me. I will read each one and choose three of the best; the ones I think show the most imagination and creativity. The biggest part of the judging will be centered on the writing, but I will also decide based on how closely the submission guidelines were followed. One story per week will be posted on my website blog page the weeks of August 9, 16, and 23.

When I was very young I started to write stories, poems and make entries into a journal. I was over thirty years old before my first writing was published. My column, Byrd's Eye View appeared in our local newspaper for several years. I'll never forget the first time I saw my work in print. My name engraved proudly beneath my bi-line. Then when people started to read my columns I relished each and every word of praise. But I must warn you: not all who read your work will think it is a grand piece of literature.

That brings me to another point, writing your story is only part of the entire experience. Yes, you've written a novel or tale, and by golly it's pretty good, but the hard part is finding someone to read your work, to take it in his or her hand and absorb every word. Most of the publishing companies I have submitted to would only let me send the first three paragraphs or the first chapter or two.

So lesson number one students of Carteret County: You've got to get my attention right off the bat. You must hook me and make me want to read more. The old saying save the best for last does not apply to writing a novel or short story. The best needs to be in the first few paragraphs and then it's got to get even better as the story builds.

So students here are my submission guidelines for publication on my blog page.

Submission Guidelines

Sarah Martin Byrd's Blog

*Use Times New Roman, size 12 point.

*Double-space the pages using 1-inch margins.

*Please limit your submission to 1200 words or less.

*Query letter with contact information. Name, and email address. Please include a little about yourself. Where you go to school, what grade you are in and why you enjoy writing. This information will be posted on my blog if your story is selected.

(Email address optional.)

*Please send as an attached Word document or PDF. Preferably PDF since I work from an iMac.

*Your submission should be emailed to: sbyrd@embarqmail.com. Sorry, no snail mail accepted.

*Submission deadline: May 31, 2011.

*Selections will be posted on my website at: www.sarahmartinbyrd.com/blog/ the weeks of August 9, 16, 23, 2011.

*Please send only your most polished work, when you think it's ready, edit your copy again.

I wish you all best of luck and remember to write from the heart, showing, not telling what you know and feel.

Here's one last bit of information I'd like to share with you. Did you know that there are publishing companies who only accept submissions from teens? I want to encourage you to not only write, but to send your work out into the world. It only takes one person to like what you've created. You may send it to a hundred or more people before you find that one, but you'll never know unless you try. A good story isn't worth much if it's thrown into a drawer or up on a shelf. Release it into the wild. Here is a good web site for you to go to for information on getting your work published, writing contests and self-publishing.

www.ehow.com/about_5381001_publishing_companies_publish_teens_stories.html

Or you can Google TeenInk.com or TeenLit.com.

Exploring

The young girl in me still loves a good adventure. Especially when it's with my favorite guy and only granddaughter. My latest exploit started last Saturday morning. After loading up our gear to take to the camper on New River we headed to the mountain.

On the way we stopped in Sparta for a visit with my Aunt Lafayette. She only lives about ten minutes from our tiny plot of river frontage. Aunt Laf would love to follow me up to the river and hang out with me on the deck porch that surrounds our little home on wheels. The two of us have spent many hours sitting there watching the water flow north, its destination the great Ohio River… the mighty Mississippi, then off to The Gulf of Mexico. What a depressing thought to think Lou Gerhigs disease has robbed my aunt of spending any more days on the river.

As we were leaving Aunt Lafayette said she would love to go with us. Then added, "I can't climb those steps up to the porch anymore, I'd have to be carried up them in a pack saddle." What a wonderful sense of humor she still has. My granddaughter glanced at me with that, what's a packsaddle look. If you don't know what it is, ask an older person, they'll tell you. As we left on that spring morning wet flakes of snow, (yes, snow on April 2nd) hit us in the face, automatically disintegrating as they touched our skin and warm ground.

On the ride toward Independence Virginia, we can see Buck Mountain looming ahead. We scan the lofty tops decorated with white snow. Emma, my granddaughter says, "I want to go up there. I want to go where the snow is." So, after a quick lunch break at the camper we start our quest to the top of Buck Mountain, and to what is probably the last snow we'll see until the coming winter.

I can't help but wonder if my aunt thinks about things she'll never see or do again on this earth. Too sad to think about, so back to exploring, in search of the cold, wet stuff. About five miles out of Independence, we see a sign that reads, Buck Mountain Road. A left turn takes us by another sign that says, Road Ends 1.3 Miles. There are a few houses scattered up the way for maybe a half-mile, then the road narrows and there is only enough room for barely one vehicle. As we ascend, we spot the first snow on the roadside. Then our old Ford truck starts to spin a little and Jerry pulls it into four-legged-drive, four-legged, that's what he calls four-wheel drive, my husband, a master with words.

About half way up we come to another sign telling us we are at the end of state road maintenance. I wonder if we'll keep going, silly me… Jerry is even more of an adventuress than I am. Another sign says the rest of the road is owner maintained, and to be respectful of it. There wasn't the usual No Trespassing, or Keep Out signs. It was sort of like an open invitation for us to visit the mountain.  Surely no one lives up there. The road was now nothing more than a path, but we trudged forward anyway. Slowly up the side of the mountain we climbed, then there to the left movement, three deer. They jog off a few yards and stop, looking at us, wondering why in the world anyone would be driving up this old roadbed.

Finally in the distance, through the swirling snow, we see a house. A mile away from anything or anybody it stands, almost as if suspended in mid air. It sits at the top of Buck Mountain on a knoll with a panoramic view of all the lands beneath it. The house appears deserted, like no one ever visits it anymore. What a shame. The deck surrounding the home beckons us to come and sit for a while. To take in the beauty that surrounds it. A big wooden sign stands in the front yard. Carved into it are the words, Morton's Buck Mountain. How would it feel to own a mountain?

As we turn around and head back down the cliff, I know I'll never forget today, out with my family exploring the hills. There are so many things that we take for granted, like seeing those three Tom turkeys, beards dragging the ground as we left the mountain. One even spread his tail feathers and paraded around for us. Turkey's are a proud lot. Dancing around, flirting with the world.

Later in the day as Emma spoke with her mama and daddy on the phone she excitingly said, "We went exploring today." She went on and on about what we saw, saving the best part till last. Halfway down the mountain, her Pappy stopped the truck and opened the door, what was he doing? In about two seconds we felt what he had done as a huge snowball landed right in Emma's lap. She was so surprised, and happy, grinning from ear to ear!

Before we got back to the camper Emma pulled my head down so she could whisper in my ear. "Let's get Pappy back." I answered, "How?" She says, "When he goes to sleep tonight we'll put shaving cream all over his face." I say, "That would really make a mess. Why don't we just throw cold water on him while he's in the shower."

So that's what we did! Ending another day of adventure. Fortunate, that's what I am. I've been blessed with the opportunity to visit some marvelous locations. I've gazed upon the peaks of Mount McKinley, witnessed the cliffs of Na Pali from a catamaran, and walked on the rocky shores of The Gulf of Mexico.  As I approach the fall of my life I realize there is so much more to experience, more than I'll have time for. I can also appreciate the fact that I don't have to travel to other states to be in awe of the land. Most of the time we don't see the beauty that is right in front of our eyes.

What a great way to start our day if we could always wake up with this thought, "Wonder what adventure I'll have today?" When fall turns to winter and my days are ending I hope I can say, without regret, that I have had my share of adventures, exploring this wonderful world of ours. My husband Jerry has a saying, "The best way to die is broke!" Look out Yellowstone here we come!

Back to School

No, I'm not talking about Rodney Dangerfield's movie Back to School, but I did love that flick. It was so funny. I am however heading back to school next month, but only for three days. The nice folks down in Carteret County have invited me to share with their middle and high school students a little about my novel, Guardian Spirit. I am so honored to be able to share my story with young people. I sometimes wonder if I would have been more determined to become a published author earlier in life if I'd had someone to inspire and encourage me.

Probably not. Why, because I was raised to be a very conventional person. Growing up I was taught to work, and sitting around with a note pad and pencil in my hand was not considered legitimate labor. Not to my father's generation anyway. So my younger years of writing were behind closed, and often times locked doors. When the chores were done and I was left to pursue my own yearnings I printed my hearts desires down on the pages of a college ruled composition book, or in my pink diary. I did not share a single thing I had written until I was fifteen years old. A very dear friend Larry was killed in an automobile accident and I wrote a poem about him. I let one of my youth leaders at church read it and he encouraged me to give a copy of the poem titled, The Black Car to the boy's parents.

That poem built a bridge of friendship between Larry's mother and I. She and I went on to become a team, a pair that you often saw together, especially after her husband and daughter passed away and she was left with only one brother and sister who lived out of town. We spent many hours together reminiscing about days when things for her had been much sweeter. What a sad thing for a woman to lose both children and a husband. When I think back to that poem I now realize it had a special power. It took a horrible situation and paved a way for better days. That poem formed a kinship between two women who loved the same boy.

When I go to Carteret County next month my desire is to encourage these young people. To tell them over, and over again: to be able to write an interesting story, or poem, is a God given talent, a gift to be nurtured and valued. I can only hope they have a good support system around them. Cheering them on. Helping them to soar, to live their dreams. I've said before that there is a story in all of us, but some times the tales stay locked up inside our heads, never released so as to touch someone's heart, making them laugh or cry. I want to help these young people find the courage to release their words into the wild.

The last four years of my life has been devoted to writing. I still feel guilty when I spend the day with my pencil in hand. I look around and see the dirty windows and cobwebs and I hear my daddy say, "Girl there's work to be done, get up off your butt." Or is that my husband's real voice I'm hearing? Either way, I've learned to shut out the demons that work against a creative mind. I don't know where this literary journey may lead me but I do know that as long as I'm touching a few people along the way then I'm doing what I'm supposed to do.

So students of Carteret County here I come. We're going to discuss the highs and lows of trying to get a book published. We'll talk about talent and education, but mostly we'll create. We're going to tell the stories that float through our heads. Speaking them to the world with our mouths and writing them down with strokes from our pens. I know all things happen for a reason, and if my talking to young people inspires just one to become a serious writer, then all is well. I've done my good deed and the world will be a much better place for it. There very well may be a young Mark Twain or Laura Ingalls Wilder in that next classroom that I visit! We may never know on this earth just who we have touched with our written words.

1 Timothy 4:12

Let no man despise thy youth; but be thou an example of the believers, in word, in conversation, in charity, in spirit, in faith, in purity.

Yikes, No Internet!

About this time last Spring I was gearing up for another fun filled summer at New River. We have a camper that we leave there year round, but the winters are so cold in the mountains of The Blue Ridge that mid to late October we have to winterize our little home on wheels, wave good-bye, and close it up until the spring thaw.

Other things were going on at this same time last year too. I was working with my computer guru, Neil Brown at Brown Advertising. We were busy setting up my Go Daddy account, posting reviews, and installing spam filters. Plus all the other stuff that goes into the design of a new website. My first novel was going to be published in the fall so in preparation for it's debut there was much to do. Website, Facebook, Twitter, and hours and hours Skypeing with Lucky Press marketing lady, Shelby Isaacson, whose company is called NuChapter Marketing. She was my slave driver for three or so months last Spring. Every week she'd give me a new list of things to do. "Social marketing" is what it's called. So to succeed in this new endeavor you have to "be social." You spend hours on Facebook checking out profiles, finding old friends and trying to make new ones. Accomplishing this without the Internet is impossible!

Last year this was a major concern for me. Would I be able to use the Wifi at the campground? Was my camper too far away from the router? It was a pretty interesting time trying to connect. First I sat down at the kitchen table in the camper, no service. Then I moved to the deck outside, again no luck. But I found out that if I'd sort of hung over the deck and pointed my laptop toward the campground store where the router is, then waa-laa… connection! Once I'd linked to the network I could then move inside or to one of the rocking chairs on the porch. Many times the connection dropped and I'd have to go through the entire hanging over the rail process again, but you just have to do… what you have to do in this old world to get your Internet connection.

Last summer I spent many hours on that porch. Doing all the homework that Shelby gave me. I missed a lot of socializing with my old friends and neighbors at the campground, the ones I could see, feel and touch. I didn't catch as many bass or red eyes either while fishing for Internet friends. I lost touch with some things that really meant a lot to me like the peacefulness of doing nothing, the endless quietness, moments when I could shut down my brain and think of nothing but the present, the here and now.

I've learned much this past year. One realization is this: Writing a novel is easy peazy; it's all the stuff afterward promoting it that's hard. This past Saturday when I tried to connect to the wide world web at the campground, no luck. I tried inside the camper and hanging over the deck rail. Then I went straight up to the porch of the store, plopped down at one of the picnic tables and mashed the start button. My little searching bars spun up and down, up and down, but again no luck. After several tries I realized that the storeowner probably wouldn't have the router up and running until the campground officially opens on April 1st.

Last year I would have panicked. I probably would have packed up and went home to my very own high-speed hook-up. But this year no, I am learning that life goes on if I don't get on Facebook for a day… or two. I don't have to respond to each and every comment someone makes about my post, even though my personality would like to. I have realized that the world will not stop turning if I don't have an Internet connection for the weekend, now I have a different opinion about my cell phone, but that's another story.

The point of this blog is: We should not let all this technology stuff blind us to the real world. Yes, I've made over 1800 friends this past year. We've shared our successes and failures. We've laughed and cried together, prayed for each other and shared our dreams. I cherish my new friends and especially some old buddies I have re-connected with. But we must take the blinders from our eyes and see the whole world. The brightness of the sun, the moon as it spins around the earth, and the stars as they twinkle, forever guiding us on our way. If that Internet had been up and running this past weekend I might have missed the new sprouts of the Hostas as it peeked out from under the pine needles out back of the camper. Or felt the sun on my face as I took time to explore the shoreline of New River looking for Suckers on their spring run up river. The sounds and smells of the earth as it comes to life can completely disappear from our sight if we are too busy to look around.

While spending time with our newly found friends on Facebook, we must not forget our friends and neighbors who are only a stones throw from our door. When I say Yikes, no Internet! I should be saying… Yippee, no Internet! But only for a few days at a time, please.

Water. Our Sustainer or Betrayer?

When a person is raised along the banks of a river, on a lake, or near a pond; our blood runs a little thinner. Watered down by the sounds, smells and beauty of the landscape. One who lives near these such places becomes entwined in the character of the water and its surroundings. We become more in tune to the ebbs and tides of the ocean, and the rising and falling of a gorged river. The sounds of a late afternoon echo the voices of neighboring frogs, their music flowing through the air as grand as any symphony. Yes, all these things become who we are.

What a blessing to have been raised on a hill over looking The Big Elkin Creek in Elkin North Carolina. As a young girl I spent most of my spare time along those banks, or knee deep in its depths. I have always loved to watch the flow of water as it gently cascades down a slope, or plunges over a cliff. Marveling in the noise and force that water makes as it crashes against a rocky cliff or rushes over rocks. The sound of water is soothing to the soul and welcoming to the ears.

As a child when the spring and fall rains came. I would travel to my mama's closet and borrow a thin covering of plastic from a recently returned garment from the dry cleaner. I'd paste this makeshift raincoat to my body and head out into the wild. Sometimes I'd tromp through puddles or stand over them and look for tadpoles that I knew fell from the sky. Other times I'd take rocks from the dirt road and dam up the side ditches. When I became bored of this I'd venture down to the creek and check the water level. In the seventeen years that I lived along that creek I saw it creep out of its banks many times. I would stand amazed as huge branches, and sometimes-entire trees came floating by, the bulk of them appearing weightless as they bobbled up and down riding the current.

The occasional flooding of the creek seemed a really big thing for me when younger. I didn't think about all the animals that lost their homes, the beaver, muskrat, and mink. Their nests or burrowed out tunnels in the riverbanks gone, filled in with mud or swept away by the force. A river can claim homes, wipe out acres of bottomland, take out a bridge in a second and lives can be swallowed up in the blink of an eye. Man can build dams to control some water, but last week we quickly found out that there is no curbing the force of a tsunami. You can't out run a wall of water that is coming at you at speeds of over forty miles an hour.

The horror of what the people of Japan are going through is foreign to me in all kinds of ways. For those who have survived, what is left for them? Fear! Will another quake ripe the earth apart spewing forth yet another wall of water?  What about the threat of a nuclear reactor meltdown? I cannot imagine the horror of what these people are going through. Lost loved ones, homes adrift or washed miles away, nothing left but a memory. Where will they sleep, what will they eat, and who will keep them warm? One day you are tucked away, safe and secure, the next second you have nothing but the clothes on your back.

Sometimes we can't see how fortunate we are. We think we have nothing, or we're barely scraping by. But just for a minute look around; take in all that you would lose if a wall of water swept your life away. You have more than you think, don't you?

My love of water has never deluded me from fearing it. When I was in my teens I almost drowned in the Atlantic Ocean. One minute I was having the time of my life jumping waves, feeling the weightlessness of my body as the current picked me up and carried me high upon its crests. Then all of a sudden the wave dissipates and my feet try to find the bottom, solid ground, but there is none, and the occasional wave has become a never ceasing attack on this unfamiliar object in its midst. Brutally bashing into the alien who dares to think it can conquer its might. That day I truly believed I would die. But all of a sudden I found the strength to keep swimming for shore. As the force of the water pulled me out to sea, a stronger power reined me in toward land. God was not ready for me to be swallowed up and gone.

I've often wondered why The Lord spared me that day. For what reason has He given me thirty-five more years to live? Have I fulfilled my destiny, or is that big or small something still waiting around the corner? I can only hope I'll be wise enough to know God's will for my life, and strong enough to get through it and make it to the other shore, having done what I was left here to do. Life is like the winding river and the rolling sea. We will take many turns, some right, others wrong. We will be tossed, experiencing many highs and lows. One day we will be thankful for the water that sustains our life, other days we may curse the betrayer.

For the possible 10,000 estimated dead in Japan I can only pray that they believed in the cleansing power of water. And for those left in the aftermath, I humbly desire for them a safe haven, a place of rest, and a peace that surpasses all understanding. God Bless!

John 4: 13-14

13) Jesus answered and said unto her, Whosoever drinketh of this water shall thirst again:

14) But whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst: but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life.

Fearless

Sometimes I dream some really strange stuff. When I was growing up I had a re-occurring dream. I would be flying in an airplane and then all of a sudden out of nowhere a mountain appears. You know what happens next, the plane flies out of control and straight into the mountain. I vowed never to fly in a plane, but thankfully I over came my fear and did. Some would have taken these dreams to heart and never have flown?

My first flight was in a single engine, something or other. It had a pilot, co-pilot and two other seats. My best friend's husband was the pilot; he flew for a private corporation out of Greensboro. When they invited me to come fly with them, I was probably in my mid twenties, so the carefree, live forever side of me won over and I pushed the dream out of my mind.

I'll never forget that day for as long as I live. I rode in the co-pilots seat and when we were airborne and soaring high over the Piedmont, Mike says, "You want to drive?" I said, "NO," and I didn't. One new thrill at a time is all this country girl can take. Anyway, I was too busy watching the scenery below. We headed from Greensboro up toward The Blue Ridge Mountains and my home. The Yadkin River looked like a small stream. Buildings and houses were mere specks. Then the Brushy Mountains loomed a bit larger than any of the other landscape up ahead.

Our destination was to do a fly over and take pictures of our farmhouse, barn and the twelve acres that surrounded it. It's amazing how things look from above. The tin roof of the barn and house needed painting. Our tiny one bedroom home looked like nothing more than a shed, and I realized just how small twelve acres is. I clicked several pictures as Mike flew the craft around in circles. Our little homestead didn't look very impressive from above, but I knew what those walls held, love, warmth and family.

I would fly several other times over the next twenty-five years, home from St. Lewis. Two trips back and forth from New York to North Carolina and then the sixteen-hour trip to Kauai. I have to tell you about that. First of all it was my husbands first flight, ever. You should have seen his face when the pilot gunned the engines and we shot like a bullet down that runway. Jerry's eyes were as big as saucers. I just sat there hoping he wouldn't have a heart attack or something. Truth is, he said that was the part he loved most about flying. All that power and testosterone you know.

As darkness filled the sky that evening we were flying over the ocean. In another few hours the captain came over the intercom and told us that we were approaching Kauai. He said that he would be circling several times but didn't tell us why. Boy did we circle. At times it seemed as if the plane were tilted at a 90-degree angle. If the seatbelts were not holding us we would have surely fallen out. It wasn't until the next morning when we rose to the beautiful surroundings that we saw why we had been tilting and circling. Huge mountains encompassed the paradise, and the airport sat at the base of those mountains. The pilot had been tilting so as to fit between those orbs. I was already dreading our take off in six days… you know me, my dreams and mountains.

Since then my husband and I have had the opportunity to fly to Alaska and Mexico. What a spectacular land Alaska is. I could write a book about it, and I just might some day. Now Mexico was a bit scary. When we landed at the airport of Cancun, there were military men lined up holding guns. We were escorted off the plane and straight to customs. At the time you didn't have to have a passport to enter Mexico, just your birth certificate. Jerry and I had them, but they were not our certified birth certificates! Terrified that we would have to stay in this strange country we awaited our turn to be interrogated. After much talking and pleading they let us in, but then there was the fear during our stay, worrying if we would be allowed out! Lesson learned, I now have a passport!

I wonder sometimes about all the things I would have missed if I'd let my bothersome dreams rule my life. My daughter and I wouldn't have bargained for silver jewelry on the streets of New York City or seen Lady Liberty. I would never have stood on the shores of Kauai and watched my good friend and her husband say their wedding vows, or ate lunch in the outdoor restaurant where chickens and cats roamed freely. I would not have witnessed the magic as I watched the massive bodies of Humpback whales as they jumped up and out of the frigid waters of Alaska. Or stood upon the tundra and listened as a native Alaskan woman told of the sorrows of losing her son at a young age. I would have missed the crystal clear waters of Cancun and not known the hospitality of the Mexican people.

So much would have been lost to me if I'd let my fears rein my actions. I believe that sometimes dreams do come true. But who is smart enough to analyze which ones will or will not. The re-occurring dream I now have is that I lose my purse. At a restaurant, grocery store, all kinds of places. What do I do about that? Hide away at home and never go anywhere I would need to spend money?

Bottom line is this. Sometimes dreams are frightening. They can make us wake up in a cold sweat and linger with us through the day. But, what would our lives be like without our dreams? To dream is to live, to live is to experience, to experience is to grow. What if I'd let my fear of rejection stop me from continuing to send out my manuscript to publishers after that first no? I would not be on this crazy, yet wonderful ride I'm on now. I would not have the joy of holding a real live book that I created in my own hands. Our dreams while sleeping, and the ones we have while awake can scare us to death. I don't know about you, but I choose to cower away from neither… for fear of missing something!

Soft Cover, Hard Cover, e-book or Audio?

Call me old fashioned but how in the world could anyone enjoy reading a book on an electronic reader? But with that said I can certainly understand the advantages. For one the cost of an e-book is much cheaper. You can purchase and download a new novel in a matter of minutes. You can also store lots of books on your fancy new electronic thing without taking up space on your bookshelf.

I guess the clincher for me is that when I'm reading a novel I love to take it with me where ever I go. To the doctor, while I'm waiting to pick up my grand daughter at school, sitting beside the pool at the beach, one splash and the electronic thing is toast. I read while riding shotgun traveling down boring interstate highways. I always have a book with me. I love the feel of the pages, the texture of the shiny cover. I have a great need to fold down the corner to mark my place. I find comfort when I walk to my bookshelf and look over my collection. With each title I remember why that book was special to me. I only keep copies of books I really, really like. Others I lend out, not really worrying if they are ever returned. Then there are those I want to keep forever, these are not passed to anyone but my daughter, for fear I won't get them back.

Oh I know you can take the electronic reader thing with you anywhere too, but I still prefer the feel of a soft paperback to the cold steel of the electronic thing, plus I don't have to plug my paperback in or buy it batteries!

You can purchase my first novel, "Guardian Spirit", in either soft cover or hard cover. If you look at my publishers website, www.luckypress.com, you'll see their new releases for 2011. If you scroll down you'll find "Guardian Spirit", soon to be released in an

e-book format this month. I am really glad for those of you who have become so attached to your electronic reader thing. Many of you have asked me when my novel would be obtainable via e-book. I'm not sure of the exact date, but I'll let you know when it becomes available for purchase.

Others have asked me if "Guardian Spirit" will be released in an audio version. My publisher, Lucky Press says it is very expensive to convert a novel to audio, so the answer to audio is no, for now. If my novel is ever converted to audio I'd like to have someone like Jimmy Stewart (if he was still alive) speak Dr. Lewis Townsend's part. And Katherine Hepburn (if she too were alive) would be a great speaker for pistol packing Grandma Ann. Now for Millie I can hear the softness of Olivia's voice from The Walton's. Sadie would be a young Reba McEntire, and little Sammy would be Opie from the Andy Griffith Show.

Audio versions are the answer for people with vision problems, and great when you're driving down the road or exercising on the treadmill. There are advantages to all things; you just have to match the right version with the person's need. For me I'll stick with paper, looking at computer screens is really bad for my eyes. Did you know that you should blink like a zillion times a minute and when you're on the computer you tend to not blink half as much or less? This dries your eyes out and can cause some serious problems. Needless to say I have to use the gel eye drops, which leaves my eyes a bit blurry for a while afterward. There are all kinds of emotional needs and wants but for all practical purposes I'll have to stick with the old timey, paper and ink… hold in your hand paperback!

Totally Out of Control

Sometimes the world just will not stop and leave us lone! Have you ever wondered why things happen? Good things, bad things? In the midst of the storm, as the thunder cracks and the lightning bolts plunge to the ground, do you hide your face in fear, or do you reach your hands up and embrace God, the only One who can put on such a show?

Control. I simply can't stand it when things happen in my life that is out of my control. This statement is coming from an anal compulsive control freak… from me, the lady who lines up our four remotes on the coffee table from longest to shortest. The woman who will not leave home with the dishes dirty or the bed unmade. Most of the time I just do these things out of habit and don't think much about it. Then comes those times in my life when there isn't a thing in the world I can do about a situation. I can't fix my uncle's prostate cancer or deliver my aunt from the evil clutches of Lou Gehrig's disease. I can't keep my daughter and granddaughter in sight every moment ever watching over them. I'm not able to control the illnesses of babies and small children or stop the aging process of loved ones, or myself.

What life really boils down to is that there is not a human in this world that is in total control of his or her life. Sure we can live right, and up hold the law. Drive the speed limit and tithe, but when it comes to the really big decisions… well truth is I'm glad I'm not the one in control. Can you just imagine if we were the ones calling the shots in life? To be the person who decides its time for someone to be born or to die, the one who decides whether it will rain or snow today, or if the wind will blow or be calm. Thank goodness I'm not the one making these decisions. We think the world is in a mess now, what would it be like if humans were the ones controlling the tides or telling the sun when to shine.

When it comes right down to it, I am so thankful I am so totally out of control!  Aren't you glad you don't know the future? If we did, then we'd probably just lie in bed everyday with our heads covered up. To wake up every morning and know that today will be full of surprises is an awesome feeling. Some things that unfold will be good and others bad. But it will be a day that The Lord has made for us. We can choose to find the good in it or let the tragedies drown us in self-pity. I don't know about you but I'll take each day for what it's worth. I'll bask in the glow of the sun or I'll snuggle into my old grey jacket if the cold wind prevails. I'll skip to the mailbox if I feel good or I'll walk a little slower if my backs out.

When you sense your world is spinning totally out of control and you feel helpless, just realize you might be "helpless" but not "hopeless". The Changer of the seasons knows what He's doing. We can only trust, keep our chins up and try to enjoy life as it spins totally out of control! I truly believe everything happens for a reason.

God Bless.