Sarah Martin Byrd's Blog, page 7

Arise and Call Yourself Blessed

Psalm 39:4-5

Show me, O Lord, my life’s end and the number of my days; let me know how fleeting is my life.

You have made my days a mere handbreadth; the span of my years is as nothing before you. Each man’s life is but a breath.

 

I am so glad that I have no idea what will happen in the remaining days of my life. I know I will die, unless the Lord comes back first and snatches me up, but thankfully I don’t know what will be my demise. Cancer, heart attack, drowning, plane crash, car wreck, choking, dementia, ALS, MS, COPD, MD… the list of accidents and diseases go on and on.

 

One day we are a walking picture of health and the next we’re going to the doctor because we just can’t seem to get over a scratchy throat. In the following days cancer of the tonsils is diagnosed. After months of chemotherapy and radiation treatments the cancer is supposedly gone, or is it just hiding, waiting to sprout like a seed potato?

 

At 55 years old a friend is short of breath and has continuous heartburn. Test after test reveals no obvious reason until one day a lingering pain in the chest finds him in the emergency room. A heart cauterization shows four arteries one hundred percent blocked and a fifth artery partially obstructed. Some speak of how awful for a man so young to have such extensive heart disease. I say how lucky that the man didn’t have a massive coronary and die like my daddy did at age 50!

 

Another man while working as a volunteer fire fighter is doing what emergency workers do; he is helping put out a vehicle fire when downed power lines from a recent storm electrocute him. The man was 36 years old and left behind a wife and young son. Do you think for one minute this man thought when he kissed his wife and child goodbye that morning he’d never see them on this side of heaven again?

 

Then there’s a young father in his late thirties who has stomach pain. After tests he is told he has Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. This man, too, has a young son and loving wife. And, he is the only child of his mom and dad. The parents wither in sorrow, praying for their only son, begging God to spare him and take them instead. A parent should not out live the child, but we all know there are no guarantees.

 

My friend with the tonsil cancer never thought five months after she had been declared cancer free another tumor would be found in her sinuses? There is only one thing for certain in this life and that is we shall all perish. Our days are fleeting, a mere handbreadth.

 

Every morning when we get out of bed we should be so thankful for our good health. We should arise and call ourselves blessed, never taking a day for granted because in a twinkle of the eye our circumstances could change. My prayer for all is that when that dreaded day of sickness comes to us we will be of great faith and courage. And, above all else I pray that in the end whether taken by illness, accident, or pass peacefully in your sleep that you know… that you know, where you’ll spend eternity. Our span on earth is but a breath. Eternity is forever.

 

Synopsis Blues

How in the world do you describe a 102,000 thousand-word novel in less than 500 words? It’s the hardest thing in the world for me to do. Since The River Keeper is my fourth novel, I’ve written three other synopses, but for some reason I can’t seem to “hit the mark” as my editor says on this one. I thought if I drafted a post about writing a synopsis then I might learn something from myself.

 

By the way, a synopsis can be anywhere from one page to twenty-five pages long. These guidelines are for a one-page synopsis, which I’ve found is what most agents and publishers ask for:

 

1)    First, always write your synopsis in present tense. Hook your reader at the very beginning. You’ve got to set the bait and reel your reader in quickly or you’ll lose them. When I pick up a book and flip it over to read about it those first few sentences have to catch my attention. If they don’t then I put it back on the shelf and move on. Draw your reader in with describing words and phrases. Those initial sentences are very important. They set the mood of the book.

2)    Part two should focus on your main character. Tell what their crisis or predicament is. Introduce other important characters here also and how they fit into the main character’s conflict. No need to tell us what color of hair and eyes they have here. You’re still trying to hook the reader. We need to know about the guts of the story, you can fill in all the fluff in the actual book. You may need to use a couple of paragraphs here.

3)    Part three should introduce the reader to the book itself. You will probably use several paragraphs here, but remember to limit your synopsis to one page. Reveal the plot in this section. Zero in on the content. Outline the facts in chronological order. These paragraphs should cover the essential points of the novel from beginning to end. And, you must tell how the conflict is resolved. An agent or publisher wants to feel the action and know how the crisis is dealt with.

4)     Now that your synopsis is written it’s your chance to make it shine. Polish it until it blazes with excitement. Make every word count using plenty of adjectives and action beats. Leave your reader wanting more and you will have hooked your prize!

 

Sounds simple doesn’t it? The truth of the matter is the synopsis is much harder to write than the actual novel. But, difficult or not I must finish The River Keeper’s synopsis, and then on to draft a query letter. A writer’s work is like a rainbow; there is no end to it. Happy querying.

 

 

FYI: In my blog posted May 22, 2013 titled, Vacations Are Too Much Work I was very perturbed because a resort hotel in Miami would not honor a reservation that we had made two months prior. After several emails back and forth with my travel agent, the third party agency that actually made the reservation agreed to give my sister and myself credit for the one night that landed us in a ramshackled Days Inn. In my opinion that was the least they could do. When you’ve been wronged don’t set back and accept it. Sometimes a girls just got to take a stand!

 

Let’s Go Fishing

I can’t believe it’s June already. Last year by this time I’d probably caught thirty or forty fish out of the New River. Finally this past Saturday I had the opportunity to spend the day floating down the New. I only snagged five Bass, but one of them was the biggest I’ve ever caught. I know you’re all wondering how many my husband, Jerry caught because he always beats me. Well, I can’t lie. He reeled in twenty! Yes, that’s what I said, twenty. But it wasn’t my fault; someone had to keep the canoe steered in the right direction!

 

Fishing is a lot like life. You start out empty handed with nothing but a pole and some bait and you venture out into the dark waters not knowing what you’ll return with. The same can be said about writing stories. You start out with only a keyboard, a few thoughts, and a blank sheet of paper and before you know it the pages are filled with words. A story is born.

 

Then what do you do? Well you can do like I do with the fish I catch. I look them in the eye and thank them for letting me hook them then I throw them back. But, if I do that with the stories that I write, you know, toss them in a box, or up on a shelf, what good are they?

 

Being a writer takes courage. You have to be able to release your words into the wild. If you never wet a hook I can assure you you’ll never catch a fish. If you never submit your work to a publisher or agent then you’ll never lure one of those either.

 

My next novel, The River Keeper is ready to start submitting to agents and, yes, I am a little anxious about throwing my “hook” into the swirling sea of literary agents, but I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that an agent is not going to come knocking on my door. I’ve got to go fishing. Maybe I’ll get lucky and snag one. You know the Lord always has been partial to fisherman.

 

 

 

Matthew 4:18, 21

And Jesus, walking by the sea of Galilee, saw two brethren, Simon called Peter, and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea: for they were fishers.

And going on from thence, he saw other two brethren, James the son of Zebedee, and John his brother, in a ship with Zebedee their father, mending their nets; and he called them.

 

 

 

The Presses Are A-Sinking Matey

Recently I attended a four-day festival/flea market. The event was a forty-five minute drive from my home and I had to be on site at 7am. Needless to say I am not a person who rises before the sun. Oh yeah, I already told you that in a blog a few weeks ago. Well let me say it again: I do not get up before 7 in the morning unless absolutely necessary.

 

Watching people at these events is very entertaining and educational too. I have found that I am probably one of the last few people in the United States to not own an e-reader. As people meandered by my booth this weekend they would gaze at my books as if they were foreign objects or something extinct like dinosaurs that once roamed the earth.

 

Why? Because an actual print book is becoming quenched out by electronic readers! These hard cased, cold monsters are taking over like a Kudzu vine strangling out every thing in its path. Two and a half years ago when I started attending festivals to promote my first novel, Guardian Spirit, 3 – 4 % of the people in the good ole USA owned an e-reader. Now statistics say that a wholloping 33% of all people own some kind of device – whether it be a tablet, e-reader or both – for e-reading.

 

While researching for this blog I found that sales of such reading devices doubled from November 2011 to November 2012. I couldn’t find any stats for December 2012 holiday sales but the experts said they were expecting the percentages to rise even higher than the 33% mark. One in every three people owns some kind of electronic reading device!

 

What does this do to authors like me who are trying to sell their print books to make a buck? It kills us. Who in their right mind is going to pay the cover price of $14.99 when they can down load the same thing on their e-reader for $5.99, or less? Who can blame them?

 

I didn’t have to read any of the stats to know what was happening. Less than three years ago people would swarm to my booth and pick up a copy of my work and lovingly touch the cover and flip through the pages fanning the smell of ink into their souls. Now I have to literary leer them in with my wily ways. I did a survey while talking with folks this weekend. The first question I asked was, “Do you enjoy reading?” Then I asked, “Do you have a Kindle or Nook?” I’m not kidding, at least three-fourths of everyone I talked to reads books electronically.

 

Thank goodness for the few people who loves the feel of an old-fashioned paper, or hard cover book in their hands. Some of us still live to turn down the corner of a page to mark our place.

 

I’m not going to say I’ll never own an e-reader, because I’m old enough to know I should never say never. But I can promise you one thing. I can honestly say that I can’t imagine not holding a paper book in my hand. And, I don’t have to worry about the battery running low, or spend time looking for an outlet to plug my words in. With a paperback I don’t have to agonize about possibly dropping it, shattering the glass screen. And, if my paper book gets wet while I’m lounging by the pool, then I’ll just set it in the sun and my book will be good as new in no time. Maybe a bit wrinkled, but who cares?

 

Books are as much a part of me as wearing clothes, but times are a-changing. We must adapt or be left behind. So authors, here’s my advice: When partnering with a publishing company beware of buying hundreds of copies of your printed book. People are just not buying hard copies anymore. Man the lifeboats, the presses are a-sinking.

 

 

 

 

 

Vacations Are Too Much Work

I know. I’ve slipped through the cracks the past couple of weeks. Sometimes a girl just needs to fall off the radar. I’ve been on what some call “Holiday.” Webster’s Dictionary says holiday is a day of rest from work. Well, I beg to argue. Just because you’re not at work and on “Holiday” doesn’t mean you’re not working.

 

On a recent six-day trip to Florida, I got out of bed earlier than I normally do each morning, walked more miles every day, stressed about flying in an airplane, and wondered whether or not I’d have a bed to sleep in at night. Doesn’t sound like too much fun does it?

 

Here’s my story and I’m sticking to it: In early March I had my travel agent book a flight to Florida for my husband, myself, my sister and brother-in-law. Also booked was a nice beachside resort hotel in Miami, and a rental car to drive down the coast to Key West. And no, we did not see naked people with painted on clothes. You have to go during festival week, which is the week of Halloween to see that deranged sort of thing, you silly people.

 

We had a smooth flight into Miami International Airport, no problem picking up the rental car, and we found our hotel fairly easy. Upon checking in the desk clerk proceeds to tell me that I have a reservation for four nights, and I proceed to tell her no, I’ll be staying two nights then traveling to the Keys for two nights, then back to Miami for one more night. No, no, no the clerk insists. It took about a half dozen trips to the front desk and a call to my travel agent to convince the clerk that they had screwed up.

 

Before leaving the resort in Miami I made sure we had two rooms reserved for our return on Friday night. The desk clerk assured me I did. Not! When we tried to check in on Friday we were told that our rooms were “out of order.” What? But, I have my travel voucher… and you told me two days ago our rooms were booked. Again I’m told your rooms are “out of order.” How very odd that both mine and my sister’s room was “out of order.”

 

Then the desk clerk from the resort in Miami hands me a voucher for a one-night stay eight blocks down the street at a one star Days Inn. Now don’t get me wrong. I think most Days Inn’s are very nice, but this one was built about fifty years ago. Like me, that motel has seen it’s better day. And besides, I had already prepaid $150.00 a night to stay at a beachfront resort. The desk clerk at the Days Inn told us our room for the night was $79.00. Go figure.

 

Don’t think for one minute that just because you have a voucher that you are good to go. I figured out what happened. Upon checking in for our first two-day stay we did not agree to listen to the resort’s 90-minute time-share garbage. So they not so politely kicked us out of our room so they could rent it to some other sucker who would listen to their spill.

 

What gives someone the right to treat people this way? I’m sorry folks, but what happened to us was just plain wrong. And should be illegal. I’m not going to drop this. I’m sure we’re not the only people who have been shafted by this resort.

 

I suppose the moral to this story is: If you want to be positively sure that you’ll have a bed to sleep in every night, then you’d better stay at home. And, you don’t even need a voucher either. There will be a second part to this blog!

 

 

*On another note: What a foolish thing to write about my petty problems after watching how that tornado mangled people’s lives in Moore, Oklahoma yesterday. May God have mercy on them.

A Not So Perfect Mom

It’s a strange feeling not having a living mama on Mother’s Day. I heard a preacher speak on the radio the other morning. He said to let your mother know how important she is to you if she is alive and if she’s gone on, cherish the memories.

 

The preacher went on to say that some mothers do not fit the mold of Proverbs 31:10-31. Some, like myself are not virtuous. I do not work with wool and flax. I don’t have to bring my food from afar, the grocery store is only a mile from my house. And, the good Lord knows I don’t rise while it is still night.

 

I do however like to buy land and I’m not opposed to planting a vineyard. I’m also very organized. I always have candles ready if the power goes out. And, my hand doth stretch out to the poor and needy.

 

My household is garbed in suits of every color in the rainbow. I may even be able to find a stitch or two in scarlet or purple silk. But, I can assure you I did not sew these garments. I do well to reattach a button, and if worse comes to worse I can hem a pair of britches.

 

My husband doesn’t sit among the elders of the land but he does hang out at the golf course where a lot of people know him. I don’t make fine linen to sell, I just scribble stories on paper in hopes someone will buy them.

 

I cannot honestly say that every time I open my mouth words of wisdom flow forth either. But I do try my best to be kind to everyone. Even though some do challenge my last nerve. And, you can bet I do not partake of the bread of idleness. I am a busy woman!

 

My child may not call me blessed but we have a powerful  love for one another, and if my husband is praising me it must be to the guys at the golf course. NOT!

 

All joking aside, no one is perfect. Trying our best we often fail as mothers. But a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised.

 

Proverbs 31:31

Give her of the fruit of her hands; and let her own works praise her in the gates.

 

 

The Search For a Literary Agent

A few days ago I finished the second re-write of my third novel, The River Keeper. Now for the final read through. I love this part. To be able to simply read the story without fixing plot holes and grammar. On August 22, 2011 the first words were written. It took me one year and eight months to write and edit this novel. How do these famous authors spit out three and four new books a year?

 

I know these people are rich and have house cleaners and nanny’s to pick their kids up from private schools. I’ve even heard that they have ghostwriters who help them out. Now let me assure you that I am not jealous of these writers. I know the pressure on them must be excruciating. Every novel is expected to be better than the last one, and they have to turn them out like puppies in a puppy mill.

 

I figured out many years ago that I’d better be careful what I pray for. Of course I’d love for one of my novels to make it to the New York Times Bestseller list. Or, get an Amazon ranking less than 100, but with fame comes chaos. Sort of like the more stuff you have the more you have to keep up.

 

The question I have to ask myself at this point in my writing career is: Do I stay with my small press, or shop this new novel out to literary agents? It’s hard to know what to do. With six years of being a full time author under my belt I must say I’ve learned a thing or two. Number one, unless an agent gets my work in front of the eyes of a big time publisher like Simon and Schuster or Random House, I’m never going to turn a profit doing this.

 

Is that the way it’s supposed to be? I can see myself now. Walking down the streets of my hometown of Elkin, North Carolina, population 4,003, paparazzi following my every move, snapping photo after photo. My private life pasted on the cover of all the well-known tabloids. I would have to make sure I put makeup on before I visit the local grocery store and God forbid they catch me picking my nose or see my belly fat.

 

Yes, this fame and fortune business could be a thorn in my side, instead of a blessing. I do believe that the good Lord knows where I need to be a whole lot better than I do. All things happen for a reason. But with all that being said, I really would like to have some advice. Should I just keep on doing what I’m doing and not try to make it to the big times? Or, do I bite the bullet and try to move it on up, you know sort of like the Jefferson’s?

 

Please tell me your experience with agents. Do you have any suggestions? I’ve heard an agent can be harder to find than a publisher. And, from reading other people’s blogs and posts I know that some agents can be wolves in sheep clothing. What’s a girl to do?

Bless the Children

Proverbs 17:6

Children’s children are the crown of old men; and the glory of children are their fathers.

 

Thirty-four years ago this week a miracle was born unto me, a baby girl with curly brown hair and a smile that will light up the remainder of my days.  Happy birthday to my only child Wendy, I am so thankful that God knew best, and blessed me with you.

 

Born twenty-five years later this same week was my one and only grandchild. Just yesterday I was changing her diapers and now she is celebrating her ninth birthday. I truly believe that children are gifts straight from Heaven, but grandchildren are blessings that give more joy than anything money could ever buy.

 

Thinking about my two special girls my mind drifts to children in this world who are not cherished, but battered, abused, hungry and cold. In a national survey of American families, 50% of the men who frequently assaulted their wives also frequently abused their children.

These statistics barely scrape the surface. Numbers are only as true as the people who report the incidents. Many children as well as their abused mothers, and yes, sometimes abused fathers hide the ugly truth of what life is like inside the walls of their home. For so many reasons they hide the bruises: embarrassment, fear, or the desire to fit in with the “so called” normal of this world. In reality bad exists and some are not who they appear to be.

What can we do? We can start by educating ourselves, offering help to those in abusive situations. In my novel, Guardian Spirit I address the issue of domestic violence. Millie, the mother of two children runs away from her abusive husband. It took courage for Millie to escape the strong hold of her husband, but she knew if her and her children were to survive she must run.

That’s the message I want others to hear when they read Guardian Spirit. If you are in a bad situation I pray you will find the courage to escape within the pages of Guardian Spirit.

May God watch over His precious children, and strengthen those of us who care for them to keep them safe. No one should have to live in fear.

 

An excerpt from Guardian Spirit:

“I’m hungry. When can we stop and eat?”

As Sammy sat up, he rubbed his eyes and looked out the window up ahead at the mountains and then down through the valleys. He could see for miles, both ways.

“What is all that stuff down there? Where are we?”

“That stuff down there is houses and barns and land. It’s the same way it would look from the sky if we were up in an airplane.”

“I’m not going up in any airplane. I saw that picture in the newspaper when one fell out of the sky. I’m never going to do that, never.”

“No, honey. We’re not going to fly in an airplane, we’re going home.”

A terrified look crossed Sammy’s little face, his eyes misted and he caught his breath. “Home? But I thought we didn’t ever have to go back there again. You promised.” Sammy’s voice was soft and shaking.

Millie stopped the car at the next pullover. She turned around and looked into her son’s eyes, bright with fright. The cut beneath his eye was healing nicely, but the whole side of his face was still a dark purple.

“Come here, Sweetie.”

Sammy crawled over the seat and snuggled up next to his mama.

“No, we’re not going back to Texas. We are far, far away from there now. Look at me, both of you. I promise you as long as there is breath in me your daddy will never lay another hand on any of us ever again, especially you two.

 

Link to Guardian Spirit’s book trailer:

 

Please find below information where you may find help if you are in an abusive relationship:

 

Anonymous and Confidential Help 24/7

National Domestic Violence Hotline

http://www.ndvh.org/

1.800.799.SAFE (7233) 1.800.787.3224 (TTY)

 

The Red Flag Campaign: The first statewide public awareness campaign to address dating violence and promote its prevention.

http://www.theredflagcampaign.org/index.php/dating-violence/red-flags-for-abusive-relationships/

 

Links and help aids for Abused or Battered Women: Domestic Violence Shelters and Support – local and regional.

http://www.helpguide.org/mental/domes...

prevention.htm

 

New Identities for Domestic Violence Victims

http://ssa.gov/pubs/10093.html

 

Help for Teens:

“Love Doesn’t Have to Hurt”

http://www.apa.org/pi/families/resources/love-teens.pdf

 

safehorizon

Moving victims of violence from crisis to confidence.

http://www.safehorizon.org

 

Entertaining Angels

Hebrews 13:2

Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.

Once in a while you run into a person that lights up your world. I met such a lady this past weekend while strolling up a path beside New River. Her name was Mary, but she said her special friends call her Bunny. Not Bonnie, but Bunny. That’s what her Daddy nicknamed her when she was a little tike.

 

Mary was looking for somewhere to pull her teardrop camper this summer. I think to myself, funny that she has a teardrop camper because I mention them in my next novel, The River Keeper. But I keep quiet and don’t say anything.

 

She then proceeds to ask my husband, Jerry and I about the campground and we cheerfully fill her in. Telling her that New River Campground is the next best place this side of heaven she’ll ever want to lay her head. As we talk she and I realize we have a lot in common, an old soul connection that can’t be put into words. My husband sort of rolls his eyes as he listens to us.

 

When she tells me she is sixty-eight years old I can’t believe it. She is vibrant with a beauty that will never succumb to the years. She said she couldn’t wait to float down the New on an inner tube and ride her bike up and down the campground road. But she said what excited her most was she’d get to meet new and fascinating people.

 

She said she had ventured out that morning looking for something and the Lord had led her to the New River Campground. When my husband told her I was an author, she automatically said: I want to buy your books. And she did! She even wanted to give me a ten-dollar tip. Of course I didn’t take it.

 

As Mary pulled away from our camping lot the thought crossed my mind that I just might have entertained an angel. For real, there is a glow about this woman, a spark of something not from this earth, but from heaven above.

 

My next novel, The River Keeper is almost ready to do the final read through. I simply can’t wait for you all to read about Granny Jane, Chloe, and Callie Mae. I hope this novel will help you realize that one may never know if they are talking to a human or an angel.

 

 

An excerpt from, The River Keeper:

 

Them beehives is all that’s left between me and Chloe Combs. I now hear them humming out my name… Callie, Callie, come closer. I watch them bees a-coming and a-going. One by one, in and out of them hives, delivering the sweet nectar to their queen. I don’t want no present from Miss Chloe bad enough to get closer to them stingers, so I turn around and head back to Granny Jane’s house. What is the use of visiting someone if you can’t talk to them anyway?

Then, all of a sudden that humming gets louder. It’s turned into a blaring buzz a-popping my eardrums. When I look back over my shoulder, the first thing I see is that Miss Chloe is off the porch and standing by them two beehives. Then she fans the hives with her apron. Lord, she’s a-getting them bees all riled up! I swat at one as it zips past my head. Then before I can run, they are all over me, covering up my skin.

“Help!” I holler. I’m running in circles. I can’t believe it’s me, so I holler on purpose again. “Help me!”

There’s my long lost voice! It sounds queer after two months, and now what good is it if I’m ‘bout to be stung to death by a swarm of honeybees?

For some reason I don’t feel no pain. They ain’t stinging me! Not one prick am I a-feeling. But what I see scares me near into a crazed fit like them hogs in the Bible when they are possessed.

Both my arms are black with bees. I’m afraid to move. I don’t look down at my bare feet ‘cause I know they are black too. Then I hear a “ting, ting, ting” and feel a breeze. One by one them bees lift off my skin and fly back to their queen.

I watch as ever last one of them varmints is gone from me and my skin is pearly white. Then Miss Chloe stops ringing that bell.

 

Invite Me To Your Book Club

I am excited! Last week I picked up The River Keeper, my fourth novel from my editor. The second edit is finished. Now it’s my turn to get to work. I love doing revisions and this second round doesn’t look too bad, not nearly as many marked up pages as the first re-write. However, it will take me a few weeks to get through all 467 pages.

 

During the next month or so I may become a bit slack writing my blog. I plan on putting all my creative energy into The River Keeper. I’m going to be posting some excerpts from my already published novels, Guardian Spirit and The Color of My Heart as well as giving you a taste of the life of Callie Mae McCauley, my main character in The River Keeper.

 

This week I wanted to let you know about something new that’s going on at my publishing house, Ambassador International. A couple of weeks ago Publicist, Alison Storm started “The Ambassador Book Club.” You can feature one of Ambassador’s book titles in your book club and then invite the author to be a part of your next meeting. The author will join your discussion for 30 minutes via phone or Skype.

 

Simply go to the website below to review a list of authors currently available to attend your next book club gathering. And, of course I’m on the list.

 

The Ambassador Book Club page is now live: http://ambassador-international.com/about/bookclub/

Alison Storm, Publicist at Ambassador International promoted the new program a few days ago on a local broadcast in the South Carolina: http://www.carolinanow.tv/video/entry/book-club

 

 

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On another note for all who have been keeping up with my mission to find out more about some of the abandoned cemeteries in my neighborhood you’re not going to believe what I stumbled upon a few days ago. I’ll be posting about it when I’m able to research the situation a bit more. I will say this: What if you built your house over a cemetery and didn’t know it? Trust me, it could happen. More to come….