Savannah Hendricks's Blog, page 13

Desert ~ poem

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Weeds grow without bother. 

Blooms for the unseen. 

Clouds kiss the rough edges of a lonely mountain. 

Wind stirs the dead. 

Creatures wait for moisture. 

Sunshine disappoints them. 

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A Good Book

[image error]I first “got” into books once I was actually able to read them, much later than my peers (okay, way, way, way later than my peers). The R.L Stine series and The Boxcar Children when I was younger. Then, once again when I became a nanny and couldn’t find anything worth watching on TV when the baby was sleeping.

I would pull books from the family’s bookshelf, read the back cover blurb, and then if it sounded good, would dive right in. The family that had these books was an Oprah book club member. Every book had the OPRAH sticker on the cover.

I believe the first one I read was:

Where the Heart Is by Billie Letts

Followed by:

She’s Come Undone by Wally Lamb

Ellen Foster by Kaye Gibbons

Vinegar Hill by A Manette Ansay

Gap Creek by Robert Morgan

Midwives by Chris Bohjalian

I found these books to be the center of my day, and my joy the following day (these books were so well written!!!!). I never let them (the family) know I was reading them, so I would stick them back on the shelf and make a mental note of the chapter I was on.[image error]

The weekends were especially long since I didn’t work, and had to wait until Monday to get back to reading. I was at the time, and still am, a slow reader, so it would take me a good month to finish one book.

I worked as a nanny for this family just over 2 years, and when the mom stopped buying new books for the shelves I stopped reading. I was not aware of libraries and how to use them (I didn’t know they had them outside of school!!), however immature that sounds. So my reading time faded into nothing for many years, until I picked it back up again, and started reading and (funny as it is) writing and learning about libraries.

Nowadays – many years later – I am well versed in library knowledge (thank goodness). My reading taste have turned rather…pig-headed, so to speak. Most books I read, I find sub-par. The hook is weak or the hook fades off after chapter 2, or sentences go by without much connection to moving the story forward. It’s hard to please me as a reader. Even children’s literature I have grown rather picky over since becoming a writer.

So, basically the thing to note about me is this, if I recommend a book, that means a lot coming from me.

 

 

 

Red Vines

[image error]My first memory of Red Vines was at a swimming pool.

Today any time I have a Red Vine I think of pools and rain.

It was summer, and there was a odd rainstorm. But the swimming lesson at the local neighborhood pool had not been canceled. The water was freezing and my teeth chattered. Not to mention, I hated swimming lessons, because I was always being corrected.

In fact, I hated all lessons, swimming, piano, tennis, gymnastics, volleyball, tap dance, 4H shooting, modeling, violin, karate, and guitar. Why? Because the teachers spent the majority of the time yelling at me that I just was not getting it and not doing it right.

Back to the Red Vines. On this day, my fellow swim mates were just as cold as me and thus sucked at swimming that day. I was finally on an even playing field. My whole body was freezing, I was pruning at the finger tips. The teacher said if we swam two more laps we could be done for the session and get 2 Red Vines.

It was game on! There was zero candy within my reach at home so this was my chance. I swam like a mermaid and actually didn’t come in last! 2 Red Vines please! I sat there, wrapped in a towel savoring those red rubber sticks, while the rain dumped from the sky.

This Week in Submissions

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This was a big week for submissions, and personal rejections. Some how I managed to actually connect outside of a form letter, per say. 

One, major, I don’t mean major league, I mean major as in big leagues, top dog, replied to a submission by calling it adorable. My story, A D O R A B L E. But…not right. 

Another “loved the setiament,” but did not connect enough with it. Should I be submitting manuscripts via snail mail? So that one can feel the paper? Should I send an electric current with the email? 

Another said not a good fit, and another and another. Maybe I can send the agent a new desk chair that allows for the fit of my manuscript. 

Yet, I did get some good news via a new path. Sometimes things happen that you never even saw coming on your path. 

No time to waste, need to make some more connections…ohhh maybe I can send electrical tape. 

Power outage

A pic of me at age…5? and some awesome retro wallpaper, because why not!

It recently dawned on me that power outages today are much different than my childhood memories. I don’t remember any when I lived in California. All the childhood memories of them are in Washington. When power outages meant freezing cold temperatures, needing to start a fire. 

Now power outages mean rotten food, and heat stroke for both people and dogs. I’m clearly not going to freeze to death at 55 degrees. 

Of course it should be noted that as a child I thought the power was connected to the toilet and thus I could not go potty when the power was out because flushing was not possible. 

The moral of this story is A. You can flush the toilet if you lose power. B. Be happy if you don’t live in the desert and lose power. 

Dog’s Tale – 50 words

Once upon a dog, not a cat. A dog with a head so small and ears so big. His body stumpy, yet long, weaving through grassy yards. He turned onto Mrs. Williams’s porch. For this tale ends as the tail ends up in a home filled of apples and biscuits.

This is my entry!

Writing Stew

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As I made my first vegan stew the other night (it turned out excellent, after some fixes), I realized how much writing is like cooking.

Take for example my vegan stew. I took what I knew it needed, then kind of experimented the rest of the way through.

As with writing you might have the basics, but need to let it simmer for a while. Let the story soak in what else might be needed. You read through it and realize you need more of this, that and those.

With the stew I took the first bite and went back to adding more spices. It took a while, but after ten minutes I finally got the stew I wanted.

Just as with your story, sometimes you just need to let it simmer, taste it, then figure out what you need to make it work.

Can’t be Without

Brownies without nuts

Chocolate without sprinkles 

Oatmeal without raisins

Popcorn without salt

Christmas without lights

Mornings without coffee 

The Other Grizzly Bear

Menace here, otherwise known as Grizzly Bear. Why? Because I will maul you until you love me. If that doesn’t work for you, I specialize in wet-willies. 

My favorite hobbies are fetch, ripping apart toys, annoying my brother, and staying within two feet of Mommy. Okay, make it one foot.  

If you put me in a stay spot, otherwise known as ‘place’ I will bark at you and whine, just in case you forgot you put me there. 

I love all things and all people, unless I decide I suddenly don’t. Then I freak out and become afraid of floors, rugs, and dog beds. It’s like a hyperactive game of hot lava…and you never know when it will happen. I like to spice it up from one day to the next. 

P.S. I hate the snow. 

Broken Angel – part 3

I kissed Mama on her forehead, unbeknownst to her. I was on my way back to Heaven. My years with her on Earth would never equal what I will have in Heaven. Tears fell as she disappeared from sight. 

Demon, aka  buttercream frosting stayed. I think demons think in the moment. Us angels think long term.

Pop wiped my tears, and my wings healed. I watched over Mama. 

I wondered what it meant to be an angel and what it meant for others to be demons. Even an angel can have a heart for a demon. After all, a demon was once an angel.