JoDee Luna's Blog, page 43

The Muse of Memoir: Share your Story

Have you ever felt transported into a former situation that provoked painful memories? Yesterday I had coffee with my mother and her best friend, Lonnie—both creative women who bless others with their unending artistry, overflowing encouragement, and refreshing zest for life.

They requested I sign my books that Mom insisted on buying online.

"Mom, don't buy any more books online." I chastised. I'll give them to you to give away."

"No, I want to support you." Mom insisted.

I argued to no avail until I coerced them into a reduced deal.

Then the conversation took a turn towards reminiscing those life losses from which one never fully recovers. As our eyes misted, I admired the women of courage who sat in front of me—strong, yet tender women whose lives have transformed my own.

This poem is my gift to them. May they find the courage to follow the women in the mist, the muse of memoir.  I pray they write their stories down so others can benefit from their tales filled with tears, heart wrenching losses, and yet triumphant testimonies.

Recently, a friend, Kay Johnson, reminded me that each one of us has a story to share. Writing and sharing your story is a creative project that can heal your soul and encourage others to overcome. Kay sent me a link to an amazing website created by three women whose stories crumpled me into a wad of tissue and tears. I post this link in hopes my readers will visit and perhaps dare to share their stories:

http://www.choosewiselybook.com/

*Charcoal portrait by Elya Filler.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Tenacity: The Power to Push Through

Tenacity: resolve, persistence, determination. I've been thinking a lot about tenacity lately:

When I found myself covered in mud while digging out gravel and dirt to find a sprinkler valve leak (Hubby was visiting his family in Texas).
When the printer I wanted (and needed) was on sale but out of stock at Best Buy, so I drove around town looking for another great deal.
When I couldn't find a place to copy my media kit that needs to accompany the books I'm sending to review editors (all of our printers are on the fritz and my Mac Pages file conflicted with Staple's printers).
When I finally found a place to print the media kit, and then noticed two missing words in the first line.

Tenacity: mulishness, doggedness, pigheadedness (Don't you just love the animal references?)

Sure, self-publishing and marketing take tenacity but so does living:

When fear forms a lump the size of a man's fist in the pit of your stomach and then twists, yet you push through anyway.
When you acquiesce to holding a tiny angel in your arms knowing this child might break your heart like the last one did.
When you stand before a classroom full of rowdy students and the insults pelt you like rotten tomatoes from disgruntled viewers at one of those old-time theatre shows, and you don't quit.
When the person you've spent a lifetime loving walks out the door and the only thing left is your torn up heart hanging from your chest, and you don't go crazy.

Tenacity: insistence, effort, get-up-and-go. At times, writing and living reach an impassable roadblock that requires taking the long way around. Or, going into overdrive, smashing through the splintery wood barrier, and four-wheeling it through underbrush, into potholes, and up steep embankments. You just have to grit your teeth and continue regardless of all the perfectly good reasons that rationalize, "You should give up, throw in the towel, cease and desist."

My husband is the epitome of tenacity. If it wasn't for his insistence on home improvement projects, our house and yard would lie in ruins. Recently, he decided to remove the towering maple tree—branch by branch—because the root system was destroying our block wall. I marveled at his fortitude as he climbed up on a ladder and sawed off branches. The task would have been far too hard for me. Although tenacity requires what we don't feel like we possess, if we tackle difficult challenges, the power kicks in. Eventually, we witness new growth. So today I will return to the FedEx Office store with a corrected media kit. I'll have copies made while my new printer is on its way. I'm not giving up and neither should you. Trust me, tenacity will keep you when you're at the end of your frayed rope (the one ready to snap). I've been there…I know!

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Refrain Press Release and Media Kit

On January 4th, CreateSpace distributed a press release for Refrain from the Identical: Insight and Inspiration for Creative Eclectics to almost 3,000 contacts. The professional media team from CreateSpace did an outstanding job.

When the first request for books came, I realized that my current media kit needed a professional overhaul. So, I hired the services of my amazing book editor, Kay Johnson. Once again, she masterfully crafted the essence of my book and life into words. Drum roll…here is the new Refrain Media Kit.

I would like to thank Kay for her incredible work and let readers know that she is available for writing and editing services. You can email her at kay@zebomediagroup.com.

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Enclosures

There are times when a writer cocoons—pulls silence over head and tucks chin into contemplation. She hides away on a post-Christmas day when others bustle about returning gifts. The hours seem endless as she meanders along lazy rivers of the mind, never leaving small spaces—a cozy bed, the nook of a couch, an office chair.

Enclosures

When I was a girl, my mother tried to train a wide-eyed filly. The horse snorted and pranced, pulled against the lead rope that restrained and forced her to walk in circles. Around and around the arena she danced, pawed the ground, and reared towards the sun. Mom loved, (yet I suspect feared) that filly for the horse would bolt with only the rustle of burnished leaves.

Enclosures

Often my words feel like that horse, untamed, difficult to manage, going nowhere. Yet I write and write, even though the results seem small and confining, like that rope and the corral the filly fought against.

Enclosures

How do you know if you are meant to write? Smallness doesn't matter. Whether your soul craves transforming thoughts into seamless sentences or indulging in mindless rantings to release tension, you write. You compose, because not to do so would leave an ache in your soul more painful than being tethered to the end of a rope. You write, in small places.

Enclosures.

 

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New Year's Resolutions Round II

Something about the New Year makes me want to change-up my life. Anything feels possible when the confetti starts to fly. So I've decided to post a second set of resolutions (in addition to my writing resolutions) to net those ideas that are fluttering around in my brain. Maybe they will spark a desire in you to add something new (or revive something old):

Decoration at Doug and Desirea Mosman's Barn Dance

Dance again – That's it, no more rationalizations as to why not! I've decided to slip back into my cowboy boots. The New Year's Eve country barn dance I recently went to re-ignited my passion for line dancing. I love the sound of country songs and the smiles of friendly folk. (I could also use the exercise.)
Schedule in regular art days – Art soothes my soul, so I'm going to set aside regular times to create. I've got my art room back (daughter moved out), so I don't have any more excuses. My daughter and I are mulling around ideas for vintage picture frames and other decor I can photograph for this website. I've got stacks of old frames I can refurbish and vintage jewelry to use for accents.
Re-decorate and organize my art room – I've already started the room redo with the purchase of a vintage-style quilt for the trundle bed. Now I'm on a quest to find white cubbies to put against the wall at the back of my work table. This is where I will store my art supplies so they are easily accessible. I've learned from experience that well-organized creative spaces facilitate arts and crafts.
Crochet a soft-pink blanket for the end of the trundle guest bed – This will add a feminine touch. Crocheting relaxes me and provides time to think.
Organize my spaces – I cannot bear to feel squeezed in our small house any longer. My husband and I don't quite get how even though we deliver truckloads of stuff to the Salvation Army, clutter grows in our garage and closets like mold in a petri dish.

So there you have it…my additional resolutions. New Year's resolutions are about pursuing possibilities! So, have I inspired any additions to your list?

 

 

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A Down-home Country New Year's Celebration

"Happy New Year!" voices trill and cheer. Whistles blow and bellow. Hands raise and clap in celebration. Sweethearts kiss before a television backdrop sprinkled with confetti falling in Times Square.

"Happy New Year!" My sister-in-law yells above the noise as she wraps me in her arms.

"Happy New Year, Sue." I yell back.

The New Year greetings continue as I slip out to make my customary phone calls to my children.

"Happy New Year, Mom. I love you!" rings louder than the crowd and music and song.

I return to the barn dance to join the revelers wearing 2012 glasses and gold sparkled party hats. My knees wobble from three hours of dancing, as I shuffle my feet across the sawdust-covered floor. With thighs aching and ankles shaking, I dance to a few more songs.

Then common sense overcomes my love of country western dancing, so I pull my car out of the dirt field and onto the paved road that will take me home.

"Hey, isn't this where Killer Mountain used to be?" I whisper to no one. Scenes flash in my mind—winter clad kids dragging black inner tubes and sleds up to the top. I pull over on the side of the road to reminisce those days when my friends, siblings, and I hiked across the valley to challenge this beast. I can still hear the squeals and feel the icy spray on my face when I toppled off of the inner tube and landed in a pile of white pleasure. An icy neck didn't matter in those days because fear was confronted and conquered on that mighty snow-covered mountain.

How odd to remember something so long ago as if it were yesterday. My mind wanders back over forty years to a childhood spent roaming the hills of this quaint little valley I called home. Nestled in between two modest mountain ranges, Leona Valley provided the ideal childhood for a kid.

As I ponder memories, gratitude bursts forth like the confetti sprays from New Year revelers. Then my emotions float down into the sawdust of sadness.

"I can never go back there again." I sigh. "I must move forward."

I always get sentimental when I visit sweet Leona Valley, a place where people still believe in neighbors helping neighbors, kids roaming dirt trails on horseback, and pot luck barn dancers sitting on hay bales to rest a spell. I long for this friendly place where young and old line dance together with heels clickin and toes tappin.

And I find myself wishing this life were mine once again. I sigh every time I round the bend of Goede Pass, the winding road that takes me up and over the mountain pass and into my beloved childhood home. I pass former neighbors' houses and smile when I think about those days spent sprinkling chicken feed, collecting eggs, and plucking feathers for fowl feasts.

But New Years speaks of new beginnings, and I must move on. I'm a suburban dweller, now, someone who walks along streets with cell phone clutched in hand in case a shady character rounds the bend. I nestle in couch corners and write instead of wandering dusty trails on my chesnut-colored horse named Sue. I square off with disrespectful youth in classrooms and try to convince them to care instead of confronting geese that would nip Grandma Kelly on the bottom, as she ran screaming with arms flailing.

Oh how I wish I could take my students back in time to those carefree days in Leona Valley, I muse. I'd hand them an inner tube and say, "Hey, this way." They'd surely grumble and moan, "I'm not hiking in the snow to the top of that mountain."

Yet the delight they saw sparkling in kids' eyes would convince them to try. Motivation would play with the butterflies batting around inside their bellies and find its way to their feet. Together we'd push through the snow, up, up, up the icy path. Then we'd slide down, laughing so loudly that our insides would ache.

Although I can't take my students to this quaint country place, I can tuck a few events into next year's calendar. I can visit the kindly people who live there. I can remember their friendly faces and caring conversations that have enlarged my soul. Yes, I might have traveled all over the world, but I'm still a country girl at heart, someone who loves a good old-fashioned New Year's Eve barn dance, a little girl who longs to go back home.

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The Magic of Book Bonding: Rumors of Water and God in the Yard by L.L. Barkat

When a writer's words dance with your soul, magic happens. You find yourself waltzing late into the night until eyes blur, thoughts collapses, and exhaustion tucks blankets under chin.

"Simply mesmerizing," you whisper before drifting off to sleep. The journey you've embarked upon continues while you sleep, as insights and understanding sparkle in dreams.

Recently, this kind of enchantment graced me while I read Rumors of Water and God in the Yard by L.L. Barkat. I awoke the next morning and thought, these books are so delightful that I will parse the pages in morsels so I can stretch out the experience as long as possible. I also decided to contact Barkat to thank her and to make a request:

"I wanted to express my appreciation for your books, which I am simultaneously reading: God in the Yard and Rumors of Water. Each touches me in unique ways, both personally and stylistically. God in the Yard speaks to my love of nature and draws me into a worshipful presence. This book's nonfiction format helps me to sort through my issues.

Rumors of Water transports me back to moments I enjoyed with my own daughter, Elya. Like your two girls, Elya oozed creativity and began writing at a very age. Together we explored other art forms because my sister and I owned an arts and crafts business for five years.

I also enjoy how you weave story and wisdom together in each piece. The story prepares me for your message.

Rumors of Water challenges my use of story. I've mostly written nonfiction due to a career in education, as a teacher and professional development trainer. Yet this transition towards story began when I started to write a personal memoir five years ago. However, I've struggled with story techniques. Your book more than intrigues and delights me. It demonstrates the comment you left on your Facebook page, "The life is in the story."

If it is ok with you, I would like to feature a series of post about your books on my creativity website, http://refrainfromtheidentical.com because I think my readers would benefit from them. I envision these to include review summaries, short excerpts, and my personal reflections gleaned from reading your books.

Thank you for your time and consideration of these requests."

Barkat graciously consented and so this is the first post in a serious in which I will feature her fabulous books.  Consider purchasing Rumors of Water and God in the Yard so you can refer to the pages I mention in these posts. Believe me, the magic will happen in you as well.

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Almond Roca the easy way

I do  not care much for baking and such….but if the recipe is super easy and tastes FABULOUS, well…then I am willing to go to the fuss of it all.  However, this recipe is so easy that my Golden Retriever puppy could make it! In fact I have requested that he be the one to bring it to the Christmas get together at my husbands sisters house. READ THE ENTIRE POST…

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My New Year's Writing Resolutions

I've decided to add a new section to this website entitled: "For Writers and Other Word Lovers." My intent is to organize platform components, share helpful resources, and provide a peek into why writing has consumed me so. This first post features my writing resolutions for 2012. I'd love to hear about yours, or any thoughts you have about writing.

(Mask purchased from IL Prato, Venetian Las Vegas)

Goal #1 Explore story techniques

I'm intrigued with story techniques and frustrated by my lack of them. This goal intertwines with my determination to push my memoir further along this year. I want to weave together inspirational treasures with every day tales.

My current reads are Rumors of Water and God in the Yard, by L.L. Barkat. I parse out a few pages at a time so I can savor them, as if a chunk of Reese's Peanut Butter Cup under my tongue (My favorite candy). I can't bear the thought of these books ending. Barkat's use of story is magical and motivates me to hone mine.

 

Goal #2 Market my book

I've spent the last 2 years laying a foundation for my book's arrival but the next step is far too steep and craggy for my novice legs to climb. It's time to tackle some scarier dragons like article submissions, book review requests, and book signings. I'm going to have to climb up on top and ride them over the obstacles, and this scares the bloomin daylights out of me.

 

Goal # 3 Finish my second manuscript

The thought sounds absolutely insane to me right now but the compulsion to refine pieces pushes me. My inner dialogue goes something like this:

"I've got to self-publish this book this year."

"JoDee, you've got to be crazy. You need to spend all of your time marketing the one you just published."

"But I've already envisioned the cover and that's a sign, isn't it?"

"No, that's just your overactive imagination at play."

Of course, it doesn't help my compulsive side to read online that the best way to market a book is to write another one.

We'll see who wins.

(No, I'm not psychotic but just have an overactive imagination.)

 

Goal #4 Add more story to the book in progress

I knew I could find a way to get rationalize what I want.

Marketing reminds me of those childhood dinners when my mother would say, "You have to get your vegetables before you get desert!"

I'd grimace and wriggle in my chair, but eventually done the broccoli. So I market for a while, every day, and then, like a little kid, drag the step stool in front of the fridge (writing time), grab the half-gallon of ice cream (manuscript), and spoon out until I feel sick (compulsively type away).

 

Goal #5 Dabble in my memoir

I say, "dabble" because I'm in way over my head with this book, technique-wise and emotionally. I can tolerate dabble at this time rather than the thought of finishing.

 

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Kate Coury's Farmhouse

I would like to introduce Barbie Knoop's website entitled Kate Coury's Farmhouse:

About Kate Coury and her Farmhouse

My name is Barbie Knoop, so you might be wondering, who the heck is Kate?

Kate Coury is the name my birth mother gave me. Although I was adopted, and later named Barbie, I have always felt more like a Kate.

So when my business/identity crisis began over a year ago, I decided to revisit my roots and return to my original name.

What is Kate Coury's farmhouse?

It is my dream house come true. As far back as I can remember I've always wanted a farmhouse with a front porch and a swing. So after years of wishing and planning, my husband and I built our ideal home.

Why this website?

I have been in the wholesale manufacturing business for the past fourteen years selling wreaths to major catalog companies. I thought it would be fun to have a website where I could share my unique designs and creative world with others.

At the end of the day, I'm just a little country gal who wants to give visitors a peek into my life…in and around Kate Coury's farmhouse. You can visit my website using the following link, http://www.katecourysfarmhouse.com.

 

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