Stephanie Verni's Blog, page 55

Chapter 1 of the Sequel to Inn Significant

I’m not saying I’m going to do this. Making a commitment to writing another book may be too much for me right now, but the other day, I could “hear” Milly’s voice in my head, so I sat down and wrote.

Maybe I’m not done with her yet. Maybe I’m not done with her story and the story of the Inn.

What follows is what came right from my head to my fingertips as I typed, and is what could potentially be the beginning of a sequel. I’ve never written a sequel before, and the notion of it scares me a little because there’s a lot of pressure to do the first book justice. Nevertheless, I’ve heard what some of you have said…that there’s still more story there…and I’m toying with it.

To those of you who have read Inn Significant, I’d love feedback. I need it.

I’m not sure if this is what’s next on my writing horizon or not…but I would appreciate any input you may have.

We shall see, my friends. We shall see.

By the way, the inspiration for how the barn looks comes from this barn, the White Sparrow Barn in Texas. It’s stunning.

Photo credit: The White Sparrow Barn, Texas

T h e   S e q u e l   t o   I n n   S i g n i f i c a n t (maybe)

C h a p t e r   1

The wind whipped, bending the trees in half, as the storm began to wreak havoc on our small town. The river looked angry, as it tossed the white caps into the air and pummeled the shoreline. We had just spent the previous weekend planting vibrant crepe myrtles, miniature cypress trees, and a variety of shrubs and flowers around the perimeter of our new, bright white structure with a light grey tin roof. The long, curvy, slate walkway was completed just two days ago, and the lights that lined it were supposed to be installed today.

No such luck.

We were down to the wire with our first wedding scheduled in two weeks, and the storm was certainly going to set back our timeline—by days. All of the tables and chairs were scheduled to be delivered this week, the chandeliers needed to be installed as they had arrived late from our vendor, and the remaining final touches of paint and sinks for both the men’s and women’s bathrooms were on the docket to be finished over the next seven days.

And while all this might sound a bit desperate and chaotic at the last minute, the construction had gone swimmingly. The barn had been built in record time; its soaring, vaulted ceilings and windows allowed natural light to flow inside it—and it turned out exactly as our architect, Simone, had designed it. She was instrumental in planning a venue that suited the land, matched the feel of the existing Inn, and offered a picturesque setting for weddings and other special events. The sliding doors on the river side of the barn were crafted to open fully to a covered patio with waterfront views, and they were dreamy to say the least. We had decorated the patio with potted boxwoods and cascading flowers planted in urns, which we had moved inside last night before the storm hit to preserve them.

This behemoth of a tropical storm, as it was now being referred to by weatherpersons on every news channel, was churning up a lot of debris, and I’d never witnessed the Tred Avon looking so violent. The Chesapeake Bay was thrashing even more than the river, and pictures of flooded downtown Annapolis had made the news highlights this morning. The images of the storm reminded me of what had happened to Nana’s dear Ferio as he endured that fateful hurricane so long ago. The thought of it all sent a chill up my spine, and I couldn’t help but worry about some folks who may not have taken proper precautions and made their way to safety.

Mother Nature does not mess around. When she has something to say, she tends to say it in a big way, just to make sure we’re all paying attention, and we are quickly reminded that we must respect her authority.

I stood on the porch of Inn Significant in my rainboots and blue raincoat and watched as Oxford got pummeled. My mother was inside making a huge pot of soup for all of us in case we lost electricity, which was certainly a possibility, but hadn’t happened yet. Despite the deluge from the sky and raindrops the size of small pancakes, it was still warm out. John and I had scurried over in our SUV, crawling at about five miles per hour, but my new house—the one I bought impetuously—was only about three quarters of a mile away. We had secured that property—the one that we would soon live in together—and decided to weather the storm at the Inn. There were no guests booked, as everyone had cancelled when the latest weather report concluded that treacherous weather was indeed approaching.

While the renovation on our new place was being done, John had remained living on the grounds in his cottage on my parents’ property. Truthfully, we were enjoying a little bit of courtship before our own wedding, which was set for later in the year.

I looked down and touched the diamond he had given me after we had fully committed to each other and our relationship. Sometimes it felt surreal.

The ring was stunning—and much bigger than the one Gil had given me during our humble beginnings when we were very young and didn’t have any money. John had a lot of money saved up over the years, and he prided himself on being able to give me a ring that, as he said, “was as beautiful as I was, inside and out.”

Those are the kinds of words you can get used to hearing for the rest of your life.

A bolt of lightening flashed in the distance, and seconds later, the boom of thunder sounded and echoed across the river. I felt the porch tremble, and I must admit, I did as well. It also must have startled the seagull that was perched under a tree, for he took off flying against the torrential rain, battling the wind that offered tremendous resistance. And yet, the seagull somehow prevailed and made it safely to another perch.

I stood on the porch and watched as the river sang a much different tune today than it did most days in our town; I wanted it all to be over.

There was something ominous about it, and I didn’t care for it at all.

–Copyright 2017/Stephanie Verni/All Rights Reserved

[image error]Stephanie Verni is Professor of Business Communication at Stevenson University and is the author of Inn Significant, Baseball Girl, and Beneath the Mimosa Tree. Along with her colleagues Leeanne Bell McManus and Chip Rouse, she is a co-author of Event Planning: Communicating Theory and Practice, published by Kendall-Hunt.

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Filed under: On Life Tagged: amwriting, author, Baseball Girl, Beneath the Mimosa Tree, Inn Significant, part two, the white sparrow barn, writing, writing sequels

Second-Guessing Ourselves: A Mother’s Day Reflection

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I always knew I wanted to have children, and I think at one point, I thought I’d have a lot of them.

That was until my daughter almost killed me during delivery, and as well as from the aftereffects of said delivery. Honestly, if she had been born before my son, I would only have one kid. What happened during that delivery scared the living daylights out of me. I knew I’d never have another child after that. (Which actually, was quite convenient, as my husband was content with two kids: a boy and a girl.)

And yet that incident left me second-guessing, which starts to become the mantra of a mother. You’ve heard your friends and family members tell a story about their child and then add on, “I should have done this….” It’s true. We do it.  It’s easy to continually second-guess yourself about how you’ve raised (and continue to raise) your kids. Did I do enough? Have I been supportive enough? Honest enough? Loving enough? Understanding enough? Tough enough?

You get it, right moms? The list goes on and on. The truth is, we’re not perfect. No one is.

We can second-guess ourselves until the cows come home. (And I’m told, eventually, the cows do come home, but it could take a while).

So my thought for this Mother’s Day is a simple one: we have to stop questioning ourselves.

Hear me clearly:

You have done enough. You are doing enough. You are enough. Your kids love you despite your mistakes, your occasional bad moods, your tendency to say “no” sometimes for their own good, your chaotic schedules and long work hours, your incapacity to ride the big rollercoaster at the theme park, and your ability to always rise above any nonsense and always be able to hug them and tell them that you love them.

When I read what my kids wrote in my card today for Mother’s Day, I realized a couple of things: (1) they say sweet things—and they mean them, and (2) no second-guessing is going to stop me from being the best damn mother I can be, even when it’s hard, even when I don’t always agree with them, even when I see things differently than they do, and even when they say they don’t need help with something, but they really do.

Being a mother means we have that “mom radar”—we know when guidance is needed, when a hug is needed, and when lending an ear and really listening can make all the difference.

I’m not a perfect mom, and I don’t pretend to be one. I’ve lost my cool. I’ve yelled (I’m Italian—what the hell do you expect?) I say stupid stuff sometimes when they want to hear something else.

Nevertheless, I am a mother, and I know I am learning right along with them as we all continue to grow together.

And second-guessing our past decisions, tactics, and methodologies won’t do anyone any good. We do the best we can. Each. And. Every. Day.

Trust me: the kids are alright.

[image error]Stephanie Verni is Professor of Business Communication at Stevenson University and is the author of Inn Significant, Baseball Girl, and Beneath the Mimosa Tree. Along with her colleagues Leeanne Bell McManus and Chip Rouse, she is a co-author of Event Planning: Communicating Theory and Practice, published by Kendall-Hunt.

 

 

 

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Filed under: Creativity, On Life Tagged: being a mom, kids, love, mom advice, mom duties, moms, Mother's Day, raising kids, second-guessing

Writing Tip: Making Your Characters and Dialogue Realistic

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Yesterday on Instagram, a fellow writer I follow who follows me back asked for input from other writers. Her question was this: How do you write authentic characters, and then how do you make them sound convincing in dialogue?

As someone who has written three fiction books and teaches the subject of writing, I have some advice I can offer. I may not be perfect, and I may be an indie author, but I think I have some ideas to share that may be helpful. I enjoy offering tips to beginning writers because we’ve all been there. These tips are from experience and encompass the best advice I can give from my own perspective.

First, let’s tackle making characters authentic and believable. To begin, you have to have a pretty good sketch of your character. To illustrate my points, I’m going to use John, a main character from my newest book, Inn Significant. Milly, the other main character, is the narrator, so it’s up to me as the writer to showcase John as Milly sees him throughout the book through her eyes. Let’s begin.

John’s Character Sketch

John is 38 years old. He was in the military and had a couple of heartbreaking and powerfully disturbing experiences when he was overseas flying military aircraft. These experiences haunt John, and while I never come out and say he has PTSD, he has PTSD.  As the writer, I know this about him. This is the makeup of John that leads him to want to live a simple life on the Eastern Shore of Maryland working at an Inn in a small town (where he is from). He wants nothing complicated. He works for Milly’s parents at the Inn and has his own cottage on the grounds. From this point, I made a list of other things John likes in order to “see” him as a character—and to keep me on track as I wrote him. What are some other characteristics about John? He’s kind. He’s helpful. He likes doing things to please others. He likes to sneak into the Inn’s kitchen at night and whip up his grandmother’s muffins for the guests. He is an artist, which is how he relieves his stress. He runs every day. He’s in shape. He has high cheekbones and is tanned from working outside in the gardens. He drinks Gatorade. He listens to James Taylor. He’s close with his family, and he adores his grandmother. He’s respectful. He’s loyal. And he’s always been incredibly fond of Milly, even when she was married (before her husband suddenly passed away). He likes to read, but isn’t a writer. He owns a boat and likes to kayak.

That’s my basic character sketch of John. These were the things I knew about him as I began to write.

Knowing all these things about him helped me write dialogue that works. So how can you write dialogue that works? To me, you know the characters so well that you can picture exchanges happening as if you are watching a movie. You almost have to pretend they are real. How would you like to see things unfold? How would the characters relate to one another? What would a realistic scene sound like?

Keeping these questions in mind will help you write your dialogue scenes in a way that you should write them. And my other big tip on writing dialogue that works is to read it out loud many times to yourself, and if possible, read it aloud to someone you trust to get feedback.

[image error]This is how I imagine the kitchen looks where the muffin-making scene below takes place.

As an example of this, I will share an exchange between John and Milly from my book; this exchange takes place the first night John asks Milly to hang out with him in the Inn’s kitchen and only her second day working at the Inn (she’s filling in for her parents who have gone away for a year). Milly has not been alone with a man since her husband’s death two and a half years prior, so she’s a little awkward and nervous, but trying to relax as he’s baking.

The Excerpt from Inn Significant

I watched John move around with ease, almost ambidextrous in nature, gliding around effortlessly, pulling items and food from cabinets and pantries. He opened the oven to check the temperature. He mixed up a gooey batter in a sturdy, red mixing bowl with a matching red Williams-Sonoma spatula.

“I’m sorry. I already started the process when I decided to knock on your door,” he said. “This batch is mixed.”

He filled the muffin cups with the batter, letting it pour into each cup, and when they were all filled, he slid the entire tin of what looked like perfection into the oven.

“Would you care for a cup of tea?” he asked, attempting to conjure up a British accent. It didn’t go too well, and we both smiled.

“Yes. Decaf, please,” I said, attempting to produce a similar accent in response, but failing miserably at it.

“Got it,” he said as he began making it.

“I feel silly just sitting here not helping.”

“Don’t. It’s my grandma’s recipe, and because a little birdie told me you didn’t try one this morning, I’m going to make you try one as it comes out of the oven. Your mother told me that your writing career began with food reviews. I’m looking forward to your verdict.”

“That was a long time ago, when I actually was a writer and it meant something.”

“I understand,” he said. “But I’d still like to hear your review of Grandma’s muffins.”

“I’m feeling extraordinary pressure to like them,” I said.

“The word ‘like’ shouldn’t be a part of your vocabulary when you’re describing treats you will salivate over,” he said with a wink. “That’s something you do on Facebook. As a writer and former food critic, I expect a far more elaborate and eloquent dissection and analysis of the food from you.”

“I’m better on paper,” I teased.

When the timer went off, he pulled the first batch out of the oven, steam rising off the tops ever so slightly, and then sat across from me at the table.

“Have one of these,” he said, and he placed a hearty, substantial treat onto my delicate plate adorned with roses.

“A crunchy muffin?” I asked. It appeared to be hard on the bottom with some sort of loose, sugary topping that resembled a crumb bun on top.

“Grandma will want to know if you like her recipe.”

—From Inn Significant

 

I remember distinctly when I wrote my first novel, Beneath the Mimosa Tree, and I read a passage back to my husband. I was writing from a 32-year-old man’s point of view, and I needed to know if Michael would say what I had written. I read the passage aloud to my husband, and when I was done, I stopped.

“Is that what Michael would say?” I asked my husband.

“No,” he said. “Michael would not say that.”

“What would he say, then?” I asked my husband, seeking help with the paragraph, especially because my husband happens to be A MAN.

“I don’t know,” he said, “but he wouldn’t say that.”

I reworked that paragraph at least ten times until finally, I read it aloud once more, and my husband said, “That’s it. That’s what Michael would say.”

And that, my friends, is why you seek input from others and why it takes time to write something vivid, meaningful, and realistic.

Now go and get to work.

[image error]Stephanie Verni is Professor of Business Communication at Stevenson University and is the author of Inn Significant, Baseball Girl, and Beneath the Mimosa Tree. Along with her colleagues Leeanne Bell McManus and Chip Rouse, she is a co-author of Event Planning: Communicating Theory and Practice, published by Kendall-Hunt.

 

Filed under: On Life Tagged: author, author tips, Baseball Girl, beginning writers, Beneath the Mimosa Tree, books, character development, fiction writing, Inn Significant, writer tips, writing, Writing Characters, writing dialogue, writing instruction, writing realistic scenes

Mother’s Day & Some New Reviews

[image error]Maybe I’d like to sit on a bench and look at the water and just…be.

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Mother’s Day is this upcoming Sunday.

Do you know what I want for Mother’s Day?

I don’t want to do a damn thing.

Nothing.

I want to turn off my brain, have someone else serve me brunch (which we have already arranged, thank goodness!), and do, as Audrey Hepburn says in Roman Holiday, “just whatever I’d like for a few hours.”

I think there’s a misconception with regard to Mother’s Day and gift-giving that we “need stuff.” I don’t need anything at all that’s tangible and store-bought. I’m going to speak for tired mothers around the world when I say this: You can just hand us our tiaras and let us do what we please.

All we need is a little serenity and peace; we might even like to curl up with a good book or watch an old movie.

Honestly, that’s all we want.

Well, that and maybe a little chocolate.

[image error]An oldie but goodie.

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There have been a couple of new reviews that I’ve loved seeing on Amazon about Inn Significant. I’m still getting a lot of positive feedback on the book with several people telling me it’s the best of my three novels. While each one is incredibly special to me, I take that as a wonderful compliment. I would certainly hope my storytelling gets better each time. At least, that’s what I aim for with each piece of fiction I write.

Thanks to those of you who have posted a review.

I’m beyond grateful.

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[image error]Stephanie Verni is Professor of Business Communication at Stevenson University and is the author of Inn Significant, Baseball Girl, and Beneath the Mimosa Tree. Along with her colleagues Leeanne Bell McManus and Chip Rouse, she is a co-author of Event Planning: Communicating Theory and Practice, published by Kendall-Hunt.

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Filed under: On Life Tagged: books, doing nothing, Happy Mother's Day, Mother's Day, mother's day brunch, mother's day gift giving, novels

The Things He Cherished

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I suppose I’ve always had a fascination for living near the water, and it shows up in my writing. Inn Significant, my latest novel, is set in an Inn on the Tred Avon River in Oxford, Maryland, and features a love story within a love story. There’s something wholly romantic about living near the water, the peacefulness of it all, and the sentimental feelings I have about it come out in my storytelling.

[image error]Today, I thought I’d feature the first poem I ever had published a few years ago. I’ve been writing poetry for ages (I think my earliest poem dates back to 6th grade), but I don’t often share my poetry with people, as it can be incredibly intimate and make me feel a little uncomfortable, because it often comes from a place deep down within your soul. However, I’m going to brave it this summer and include some of my poetry in my upcoming book that features short stories and poems called The Postcard and Other Short Stories & Poetry. Wish me luck. I am not entirely comfortable putting these personal thoughts out there, but I guess I have to get over that (which is why I prefer writing fiction–you can hide behind the make believe).

The poem I’m sharing today was featured on The Whistling Fire, which is no longer in existence, so I feel that I can post it now on this blog. It’s one of many poems that will be featured in The Postcard.

Let me know what you think. It’s a sestina poem , and this type of poem is tough to write because the words at the end of each line must remain the words at the end of each line throughout the poem, but in a different order for each stanza as you build the poem. As you will see, my repetitive words are as follows: sea, garden, children, direct, cherish, and beauty. There’s an order to it, and if you like to challenge yourself, I suggest you attempt a sestina.

In the meantime, here’s The Things He Cherished.

Have a great weekend, everyone!

T H E   T H I N G S   H E   C H E R I S H E D,  A   S E S T I N A

by Stephanie Verni

In my cottage by the sea,

hours spent admiring the garden,

I wait patiently for my children

to return home, direct

from the city to cherish

this place. Its specialness and beauty.

Flowers, surf, majestic beauty—

sharp, blue sky against the sea,

it reflects in my children’s eyes; I cherish

watching them work in the garden

my husband’s eyes in theirs, a direct

melding of our souls into those of our children.

My son, my daughter, walk the lane. My children

still seem so young, their beauty,

their clear sense of life’s direction,

wanting to pay homage to their father, ashes in the sea.

My tears water the garden—

this garden that he cherished.

And oh! He cherished

this home, his dream, and his children,

his handprints still fresh in the garden

his loving touches made it beautiful.

The wind, the water. How he loved the sea–

echoes of his voice saying they provided him direction.

Now heaven’s offering him direction

from above—a new view to cherish–

this diminutive cottage dwarfed by the sea.

Will he see our children?

Will he remember the beauty

he created, lovingly, tenderly  in the garden?

My hands are not those of a gardener,

his passion for it—teaching the children

his tricks. How to tend to nature’s beauty,

wanting something to cherish.

Grateful for them, knowing my children

will comfort me in his cottage by the sea.

Memories alive in the vibrant garden.

We’re here. Direct sun sparkles off the sea.

He, at peace. The things he cherished.

[image error]Stephanie Verni is Professor of Business Communication at Stevenson University and is the author of Inn Significant, Baseball Girl, and Beneath the Mimosa Tree. Along with her colleagues Leeanne Bell McManus and Chip Rouse, she is a co-author of Event Planning: Communicating Theory and Practice, published by Kendall-Hunt.

Filed under: On Life Tagged: author, Baseball Girl, Beneath the Mimosa Tree, Inn Significant, poems, Poetry, sestina poem, short stories, short story book, short story collections, Stephanie Verni, The Postcard and other short stories, writer

The (Obnoxious) Kid on the Plane

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It’s a prayer all of us have sent up at some point in our lives: Please, God, don’t let the small, rambunctious kid sit near me on the plane.

Sometimes prayers get answered.

Sometimes, they don’t.

Don’t get me wrong, I love children, especially my own more than others, but when I’m packed in like a sardine on my way to a pleasant vacation—or even worse, on my way home from a pleasant vacation—the last thing I want is a fussy, crying, obnoxious kid sitting next to me on my journey from which there is no escape until we land. I already come to the journey on an airplane with a touch of claustrophobia each time I buckle the lap belt, recognize that there’s no getting off no matter what, and carefully consider whether or not to fight for an armrest. Truthfully, I’m not a fan of confinement, even if it’s taking me to or from a splendid place. In nonverbal communication, we call the study of the spatial requirements that affect human interaction and behavior proxemics, and quite frankly, I need all the personal space I can get to ward off anxiety.

So, what happened was this: I saw the kid coming and sent the prayer up.

Now, make no mistake—I’m not mad at God, because I know how busy He can be and completely understand the magnitude and quantity of other pressing requests and matters that must take precedence over mine. But at least give me brownie points for trying.

I had spotted the family earlier in the airport as we waited at the terminal, but we boarded before they did. I sensed that there might be a disturbance in the force, as the kid seemed to be a handful. Along with my husband and kids, we said hello to the pilot, scooted down the aisle, found our spot, and settled in.

Just as we were all positioning ourselves and getting comfortable, I looked up and saw that family heading straight for us.

Low and behold, the family sat directly in front of me with the kid, while the grandmother was seated across from them on the aisle seat. I tried to stay positive and hope for the best. Honestly, I did.

However, for the entire two-hour trip, the kid was passed back and forth from mother to father and over to the grandmother. The kid fussed, cried, screamed, wanted food, didn’t want food, wanted a drink, didn’t want a drink, and threw his blanket and toys into the aisle in a fervent fit of madness. I’m guessing he was between the ages of two and three—and he brilliantly manipulated all three of the adults like a pro. When he didn’t get his way, he demonstrated one of the most sensational temper tantrums I’ve ever witnessed with a high-pitched squeal that made the hairs on your arms go straight up. The entire plane was treated to the kid’s soprano voice, and I noticed the flight attendants, after trying to help, share worrisome glances as they tried to keep their distance from him as much as possible.

Who could blame them? I wanted to do the same. In fact, I almost offered to help the flight attendants pass out peanuts so I could escape the extraordinary octave the kid was capable of reaching (watch out Mariah Carey—he’s coming after your notes).

Needless to say, when we touched down, my anxiety level was at a 12 on a scale of 10. So much for the relaxing flight home from a fantastic vacation.

Moreover, if I’m not mistaken, I think I heard a rumble from the passengers of glee along with a quiet show of applause that we were soon to be…

Free.

[image error]Stephanie Verni is Professor of Business Communication at Stevenson University and is the author of Inn Significant, Baseball Girl, and Beneath the Mimosa Tree. Along with her colleagues Leeanne Bell McManus and Chip Rouse, she is a co-author of Event Planning: Communicating Theory and Practice, published by Kendall-Hunt.

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Filed under: On Life Tagged: children, flights, flying, kids, kids on planes, tantrums, travel, traveling, vacation

A Review of My Blog by The Villager

[image error]Well, I am absolutely flattered that Stevenson University’s newspaper, The Villager, reviewed Steph’s Scribe, and gave it a good review. I can honestly say, my blog has never been reviewed before, so that was exciting to see. Thank you to Chip Rouse, The Villager advisor, and writer Bri Buttner, for the great piece.

I will say that I take great pride in my blog, and I do play around with it quite a bit. I like playing with the aesthetics, photography, and content, and I always try to mix it up. I’ve been consistently blogging since 2011, when I wrote my first post, and I’ve never stopped. I truly enjoy writing, and blogging has become a part of who I am today. It’s a great outlet, and a wonderful way to stay fresh with your writing.

On that note, to anyone who wants to blog, I encourage it. The most challenging parts of blogging remain these two things: (1) coming up with what to blog about, and (2) blogging at least once to twice a week. If you can do that, you’ll get in the swing of things, and when you miss one, you’ll get that itch to get right back at it. It’s a good habit to create.

Additionally, Paperblog picks up my articles as well. For the month of April 2017, Steph’s Scribe was #12 for Entertainment bloggers.

As always, thanks for reading and supporting Steph’s Scribe!

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[image error]Stephanie Verni is Professor of Business Communication at Stevenson University and is the author of Inn Significant, Baseball Girl, and Beneath the Mimosa Tree. Along with her colleagues Leeanne Bell McManus and Chip Rouse, she is a co-author ofEvent Planning: Communicating Theory and Practice, published by Kendall-Hunt.

Filed under: On Life Tagged: author, Blog, blogging, entertainment bloggers, Paperblog, professor, Steph's Scribe, Stephanie Verni, stephsscribe, Stevenson University, writer

Annapolis Through A Historic Lens

When I get a few hours of free time and I happen to be feeling inspired, I grab my camera and go. While I have photographed Annapolis several times (and it happens to be my hometown), most often it’s been from the viewpoint of characters in my first novel, Beneath the Mimosa Tree. When I write, I tend to use photographs to help me describe settings, places, clothing, and sometimes, even people. Yesterday, however, I wanted to capture some of the historic spots in our great little city. Just because.

Here’s what I captured.

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[image error] Stephanie Verni is Professor of Business Communication at Stevenson University and is the author of Inn Significant, Baseball Girl, and Beneath the Mimosa Tree. Along with her colleagues Leeanne Bell McManus and Chip Rouse, she is a co-author of Event Planning: Communicating Theory and Practice, published by Kendall-Hunt.

Filed under: On Life Tagged: Annapolis, historic Annapolis, photographing places, photography, Stephanie Verni, stephsscribe, travel, travel photography, Travel writing

Kind of Obsessed with John Mayer

[image error]Ever since I saw his concert two weeks ago, I’ve been listening to my entire John Mayer catalog of music. I own all of his CDs, and I’ve been a fan for years, and I do listen to him often. But now I think I’ve crossed a line and have become a little obsessed. You know how some artists are just so talented that when you’ve listened to all of their songs a million times, you just wish they could just keep turning out new music because you can’t get enough?

That’s how I feel about John Mayer.

And honestly, I am talking about his music, his lyrics, and the soul he pours into everything he makes.

I am patiently waiting for his new album to arrive from Amazon.

When I saw his concert, I loved the way he broke the night up into “chapters.” He started his first set, Chapter 1, with his full band. Chapter 2 was acoustic. (I could listen to acoustic music all night long.) Chapter 3 was the Trio. Chapter 4 was the full band. And his encore was John (and he also played the piano).

I enjoyed every second of this concert and was blown away by Mayer’s talent. I’d seen him a few years ago at another venue, and unfortunately, thunderstorms curtailed that show. I was disappointed. I wanted him to play longer. Luckily, two weeks ago, I had the privilege of attending this tour at Verizon Center. The whole night was electric. And his bands were phenomenal.

And so, here I am, back in my John Mayer mode. I can’t get enough of his music right now. And the lyrics to his songs move me. His guitar playing is brilliant, and his voice sounded crystal clear and strong in concert. As an added bonus, he played the piano and sang a song from his new album that made me melt.

“Stop this Train,” and “Back to You” are two older favorites of mine, and the one that still gives me chills today is “Dreaming with a Broken Heart,” so I thought I’d end today’s post with those lyrics. 

They are poetry in motion, and remind me of something that happened in my life. They are also another reminder of the universality of music and lyrics.

When you’re dreaming with a broken heart

The waking up is the hardest part

You roll outta bed and down on your knees

And for a moment you can hardly breathe

Wondering, “Was she really here?

Is she standing in my room?”

No she’s not, ’cause she’s gone, gone, gone, gone, gone….

When you’re dreaming with a broken heart

The giving up is the hardest part

She takes you in with her crying eyes

Then all at once you have to say goodbye

Wondering, “Could you stay my love?

Will you wake up by my side?”

No she can’t, ’cause she’s gone, gone, gone, gone, gone….

Now do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hand?

Do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hand?

Do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hand?

Do I have to fall asleep with roses in my, roses in my hand?

would you get them if I did?

No you won’t, ’cause you’re gone, gone, gone, gone, gone….

When you’re dreaming with a broken heart

The waking up is the hardest part

-John Mayer

[image error] Stephanie Verni is Professor of Business Communication at Stevenson University and is the author of Inn Significant, Baseball Girl, and Beneath the Mimosa Tree. Along with her colleagues Leeanne Bell McManus and Chip Rouse, she is a co-author of Event Planning: Communicating Theory and Practice, published by Kendall-Hunt.

Filed under: On Life Tagged: Concerts, John Mayer, John Mayer concert, John Mayer lyrics, John Mayer songs, music

Kind of Obsessed with John Mayer

[image error]Ever since I saw his concert two weeks ago, I’ve been listening to my entire John Mayer catalog of music. I own all of his CDs, and I’ve been a fan for years, and I do listen to him often. But now I think I’ve crossed a line and have become a little obsessed. You know how some artists are just so talented that when you’ve listened to all of their songs a million times, you just wish they could just keep turning out new music because you can’t get enough?

That’s how I feel about John Mayer.

And honestly, I am talking about his music, his lyrics, and the soul he pours into everything he makes.

I am patiently waiting for his new album to arrive from Amazon.

When I saw his concert, I loved the way he broke the night up into “chapters.” He started his first set, Chapter 1, with his full band. Chapter 2 was acoustic. (I could listen to acoustic music all night long.) Chapter 3 was the Trio. Chapter 4 was the full band. And his encore was John (and he played the piano).

I enjoyed every second of this concert and was blown away by Mayer’s talent. I’d seen him a few years ago at another venue, and unfortunately, thunderstorms affected that concert. The result was that I may have misjudged him, because I thought he didn’t play long enough. Two weeks ago, I was more than pleasantly surprised. The whole night was electric.

And so, here I am, back in my John Mayer mode. I can’t get enough of his music right now. His guitar playing is brilliant, and his voice sounded crystal clear and strong in concert. As an added bonus, he played that piano and sang a song from his new album that made me melt.

Additionally, Mayer’s lyrics move me. “Stop this Train,” and “Back to You” are two of my older favorites, and the one that still gives me chills today is “Dreaming with a Broken Heart,” so I thought I’d end today’s post with those lyrics.

They are poetry in motion.

When you’re dreaming with a broken heart

The waking up is the hardest part

You roll outta bed and down on your knees

And for a moment you can hardly breathe

Wondering, “Was she really here?

Is she standing in my room?”

No she’s not, ’cause she’s gone, gone, gone, gone, gone….

When you’re dreaming with a broken heart

The giving up is the hardest part

She takes you in with her crying eyes

Then all at once you have to say goodbye

Wondering, “Could you stay my love?

Will you wake up by my side?”

No she can’t, ’cause she’s gone, gone, gone, gone, gone….

Now do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hand?

Do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hand?

Do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hand?

Do I have to fall asleep with roses in my, roses in my hand?

would you get them if I did?

No you won’t, ’cause you’re gone, gone, gone, gone, gone….

When you’re dreaming with a broken heart

The waking up is the hardest part

-John Mayer

[image error]Stephanie Verni is Professor of Business Communication at Stevenson University and is the author of Inn Significant, Baseball Girl, and Beneath the Mimosa Tree. Along with her colleagues Leeanne Bell McManus and Chip Rouse, she is a co-author of Event Planning: Communicating Theory and Practice, published by Kendall-Hunt.

Filed under: On Life Tagged: Concerts, John Mayer, John Mayer concert, John Mayer lyrics, John Mayer songs, music