Lydia Howe's Blog, page 11
June 20, 2016
Writing Advice (and how it sounds when I can't collect my thoughts)
A question I get asked on a somewhat regular basis is if "What's the best advice you have for new writers?" Oh help us all! How is a question like that supposed to be answered? My urge is to cram as much advice as I can think of into about sixty seconds and that generally looks discombobulated and somewhat nonsensical like this:
My recommendation is if you want to be a writer you need to read a whole lot because when you read you get to learn. Not only should you read books about the writing craft, but you should read blogs about the writing craft. You should maybe find a writing group to join. Also, you should read a lot of books because when you read a lot of books it helps you to learn how to do character arches and to foreshadow and all that kind of stuff. You learn to do descriptions, you learn what you do like and what you don't like and then you can incorporate that into your own writing... Although obviously don't steal from other writers.
I also think it's really important to read reviews for other books so you can see what writers like and what they don't like. Um, I also really recommend to, um, write a lot of reviews yourself because that helps you to think through what you do and don't like about the books you've read. It also helps other writers.
If you want to be a writer you need to write. Um, I know that sounds silly, but, when you write it really helps you to get better. Consistently write and that really helps. Um, just really dig into it and go all for it. Yeah.
That ^ my friends, is a literal word-for-word dictation of 60 seconds of me trying to give writing advice.
What I really mean to say looks more like this:
If you want to be a writer I highly recommend you read a lot. There are many benefits to reading, including learning the way to craft a story and annoying habits you'll want to avoid in your own writings. Reading books (and blogs) about the craft of writing is very important, as well as reading books that are in the same genre you write.
It's also important to get in the habit of writing often, even if it's only for a few minutes at a time. No matter how much you study how to write, you're not a writer unless you actually write.
In addition to reading and writing, finding a good support group can be extremely helpful. I'm part of an online writing group and have been incredibly encouraged and supported by the other members.
One last thing is rather difficult, but fundamental: If you're wanting to pursue publication you're going to need to be extremely open to a lot of critiques, some of which will hurt. It's hard not to get defensive when someone's tearing your precious book apart, but a lot of times it actually helps make the book better. So, pretty much you need to be extremely passionate and willing to leap out of your comfort zone and keep going even when the going gets tough.
Only, I've yet to figure out how to make my words flow smoothly when I'm talking. That's one of the reasons I've been working on reading out loud this year. So often my words get jumbled up and I seriously miss saying words, or even full sentences, out loud because my brain is like "hurry child!" which isn't always good advice.
What about you? Do you find it easier to express your thoughts when you're writing or talking?
* * *
The destination for our Around The World in Fifty-Two Weeks post for this week is: Chad!
My recommendation is if you want to be a writer you need to read a whole lot because when you read you get to learn. Not only should you read books about the writing craft, but you should read blogs about the writing craft. You should maybe find a writing group to join. Also, you should read a lot of books because when you read a lot of books it helps you to learn how to do character arches and to foreshadow and all that kind of stuff. You learn to do descriptions, you learn what you do like and what you don't like and then you can incorporate that into your own writing... Although obviously don't steal from other writers.
I also think it's really important to read reviews for other books so you can see what writers like and what they don't like. Um, I also really recommend to, um, write a lot of reviews yourself because that helps you to think through what you do and don't like about the books you've read. It also helps other writers.
If you want to be a writer you need to write. Um, I know that sounds silly, but, when you write it really helps you to get better. Consistently write and that really helps. Um, just really dig into it and go all for it. Yeah.
That ^ my friends, is a literal word-for-word dictation of 60 seconds of me trying to give writing advice.
What I really mean to say looks more like this:
If you want to be a writer I highly recommend you read a lot. There are many benefits to reading, including learning the way to craft a story and annoying habits you'll want to avoid in your own writings. Reading books (and blogs) about the craft of writing is very important, as well as reading books that are in the same genre you write.
It's also important to get in the habit of writing often, even if it's only for a few minutes at a time. No matter how much you study how to write, you're not a writer unless you actually write.
In addition to reading and writing, finding a good support group can be extremely helpful. I'm part of an online writing group and have been incredibly encouraged and supported by the other members.
One last thing is rather difficult, but fundamental: If you're wanting to pursue publication you're going to need to be extremely open to a lot of critiques, some of which will hurt. It's hard not to get defensive when someone's tearing your precious book apart, but a lot of times it actually helps make the book better. So, pretty much you need to be extremely passionate and willing to leap out of your comfort zone and keep going even when the going gets tough.
Only, I've yet to figure out how to make my words flow smoothly when I'm talking. That's one of the reasons I've been working on reading out loud this year. So often my words get jumbled up and I seriously miss saying words, or even full sentences, out loud because my brain is like "hurry child!" which isn't always good advice.
What about you? Do you find it easier to express your thoughts when you're writing or talking?
* * *
The destination for our Around The World in Fifty-Two Weeks post for this week is: Chad!
June 17, 2016
Around the World in Fifty-Two Weeks Week Twenty-Three: Honduras
After doing research for Honduras, I decided to just have fun writing the story instead of weaving facts and historical tid-pits into the post. I hope y'all enjoy this segment of my fictitious continuing story,
Around the World in Fifty-Two Weeks
. I had fun writing it!
Around the World in Fifty-Two WeeksWeek Twenty-Three: Honduras
This was going to be fun. I had decided to forgo the usual tourist activities and instead stay with a family high up in a mountain village. There was nothing whatsoever that bespoke of tourist as we rumbled up the mountainside in a overcrowded bus that stank like the hens that were clucking in a crate under one of the seats and I knew as we left the city behind that I was in for an adventure. The bus ride was a lot longer than I had anticipated and the hairpin curves made me sick to my stomach and wish I had gotten a ticket for the night time bus. During the eight hours of driving there were only two extremely quick stops, one of them literally out in the middle of no where. I was thankful I hadn’t drunk very much water because there was no place private and I was too used to bathrooms, or at least an outhouse, to be okay with that arrangement. At the second stop there were bathrooms, and although I had to pay to use them, I was quite happy to do so. There were also multitudes of children and old ladies who crowded around the bus, reaching up to the windows to try and sell us food. I ended up buying some kind of tamales, a dish I had never had before. To my surprise it was very tasty and I wish I had bought more. Who would have guessed that such a delightful treat would be found steamed in corn husks? It made me want to try the trick when I got home. Sophie had warned me over and over again not to drink anything that I hadn’t bought from a bottle because of all the dirty water that could make me sick. Therefore I had several bottles of water in my backpack in case the family I stayed with didn’t have any bottled water. I also figured that I would be able to buy bottled water and soda in the village where I was going to stay. It was near dusk when we rounded the last bend and I could see the village clustered below us in a valley. It looked so homey and I was excited to be spending the next five days there, although I was also a bit nervous. I was going to have to communicate the best I could in Spanish because no one spoke English. I had brought along an Spanish/English dictionary and figured that would help some, but still… This was probably the furthest away from big cities I had traveled since being in Mongolia nearly six months before.
The warm welcome I received did a lot to wash away my doubts and fears. The people looked like they were seriously glad to see me and little girls with bare feet and chapped faces danced around me, glee in their eyes. Strong boys who looked like they were in the middle of a ball game stopped what they were doing and came to join us. They insisted on carrying my luggage after I got off the bus. All around me were smiles and chatter and I instantly felt at home. These people were my family for a week and I was going to do my best to fit in. I took a moment to look around me, the sun was setting and the warm glow bathed the dirty, dusty streets, making them look almost unreal. Trash was all over the place and the buildings were made from adobe blocks and painted white and then had cartoonish like drawings on them (I later found out that they were kinda like political advertisements). Old laides sat on little stools and worked rapidly with yarn, spinning it and knitting items. Old men grinned toothlessly at me as they leaned against buildings, arms crossed, wrinkles lining their faces. After a moment of the children jostling around me, one of them reached up and grabbed my hand. I looked down to see a girl with two long braids and a hole-filled sweater glowing at me. Obviously they had been arguing about who got to escort me to my new lodgings and she had been the chosen one. We wound our way through the village with a whole group of children (including those carrying my suitcase and backpack) trailing along after us. A couple of mangy dogs ran across the road, chasing an even mangier looking cat. Even further ahead a herd of sheep (complete with long tails) were being herded between the houses. Overhead several large birds soared on the light wind currents in a nearly cloudless sky. After about two minutes the girl leading me indicated that we had arrived and threw open a nearly-falling apart wooden door. The scents of rice and beans greeted me and I breathed in deeply. There was also an earthy smell, which made sense because we were in an adobe (that is mud brick) house after all. Once again I was greeted warmly by the people who had obviously been setting up for my arrival. I felt like an honored guest and decided I needed to take lessons from these wonderful people. When I finally got home I would make sure to have company over more often, and when I did, I would treat them with utter delight, as if I couldn’t be more thrilled to have them staying with me. The food was delicious, and to my amazement I even picked up a few new words of Spanish. With the help of a lot of gesturing and very patient children who found it enjoyable to laugh at me and the try and mimic my words, it wasn’t long until I was able to figure out everyone’s names and tell them mine.
By the time I was shown to my room that night I knew this was going to be a wonderful week. Forgoing all the touristy sights to stay in this delightful village with it’s welcoming people was a decision I would not regret.
Around the World in Fifty-Two WeeksWeek Twenty-Three: Honduras
This was going to be fun. I had decided to forgo the usual tourist activities and instead stay with a family high up in a mountain village. There was nothing whatsoever that bespoke of tourist as we rumbled up the mountainside in a overcrowded bus that stank like the hens that were clucking in a crate under one of the seats and I knew as we left the city behind that I was in for an adventure. The bus ride was a lot longer than I had anticipated and the hairpin curves made me sick to my stomach and wish I had gotten a ticket for the night time bus. During the eight hours of driving there were only two extremely quick stops, one of them literally out in the middle of no where. I was thankful I hadn’t drunk very much water because there was no place private and I was too used to bathrooms, or at least an outhouse, to be okay with that arrangement. At the second stop there were bathrooms, and although I had to pay to use them, I was quite happy to do so. There were also multitudes of children and old ladies who crowded around the bus, reaching up to the windows to try and sell us food. I ended up buying some kind of tamales, a dish I had never had before. To my surprise it was very tasty and I wish I had bought more. Who would have guessed that such a delightful treat would be found steamed in corn husks? It made me want to try the trick when I got home. Sophie had warned me over and over again not to drink anything that I hadn’t bought from a bottle because of all the dirty water that could make me sick. Therefore I had several bottles of water in my backpack in case the family I stayed with didn’t have any bottled water. I also figured that I would be able to buy bottled water and soda in the village where I was going to stay. It was near dusk when we rounded the last bend and I could see the village clustered below us in a valley. It looked so homey and I was excited to be spending the next five days there, although I was also a bit nervous. I was going to have to communicate the best I could in Spanish because no one spoke English. I had brought along an Spanish/English dictionary and figured that would help some, but still… This was probably the furthest away from big cities I had traveled since being in Mongolia nearly six months before.
The warm welcome I received did a lot to wash away my doubts and fears. The people looked like they were seriously glad to see me and little girls with bare feet and chapped faces danced around me, glee in their eyes. Strong boys who looked like they were in the middle of a ball game stopped what they were doing and came to join us. They insisted on carrying my luggage after I got off the bus. All around me were smiles and chatter and I instantly felt at home. These people were my family for a week and I was going to do my best to fit in. I took a moment to look around me, the sun was setting and the warm glow bathed the dirty, dusty streets, making them look almost unreal. Trash was all over the place and the buildings were made from adobe blocks and painted white and then had cartoonish like drawings on them (I later found out that they were kinda like political advertisements). Old laides sat on little stools and worked rapidly with yarn, spinning it and knitting items. Old men grinned toothlessly at me as they leaned against buildings, arms crossed, wrinkles lining their faces. After a moment of the children jostling around me, one of them reached up and grabbed my hand. I looked down to see a girl with two long braids and a hole-filled sweater glowing at me. Obviously they had been arguing about who got to escort me to my new lodgings and she had been the chosen one. We wound our way through the village with a whole group of children (including those carrying my suitcase and backpack) trailing along after us. A couple of mangy dogs ran across the road, chasing an even mangier looking cat. Even further ahead a herd of sheep (complete with long tails) were being herded between the houses. Overhead several large birds soared on the light wind currents in a nearly cloudless sky. After about two minutes the girl leading me indicated that we had arrived and threw open a nearly-falling apart wooden door. The scents of rice and beans greeted me and I breathed in deeply. There was also an earthy smell, which made sense because we were in an adobe (that is mud brick) house after all. Once again I was greeted warmly by the people who had obviously been setting up for my arrival. I felt like an honored guest and decided I needed to take lessons from these wonderful people. When I finally got home I would make sure to have company over more often, and when I did, I would treat them with utter delight, as if I couldn’t be more thrilled to have them staying with me. The food was delicious, and to my amazement I even picked up a few new words of Spanish. With the help of a lot of gesturing and very patient children who found it enjoyable to laugh at me and the try and mimic my words, it wasn’t long until I was able to figure out everyone’s names and tell them mine.
By the time I was shown to my room that night I knew this was going to be a wonderful week. Forgoing all the touristy sights to stay in this delightful village with it’s welcoming people was a decision I would not regret.
June 15, 2016
The 9 Arts of Spiritual Conversations: Book Review
The 9 Arts of Spiritual ConversationsBy Mary Schaller and John Crilly
Find it on: Amazon Goodreads
Third-Person Two Points of ViewNon-Fiction288 Pages
About the Book (Backcover Blurb):
Love God, love people. Could evangelism really be that simple?Often, it doesn’t seem so. It can feel scary, awkward, and uncomfortable as we try to navigate loaded questions and different perspectives. Even the most faithful of believers sometimes get stumped. But can you imagine if we, as Christians, simply spent time with people who are far from God and provided a safe place to talk about spiritual matters? If we listened to them and discovered what was really important to them? After all . . . it’s what Jesus did. And it’s what you can do too.
Drawing straight from the life and ministry of Jesus, The 9 Arts of Spiritual Conversations offers simple practices to help you build relationships with people who believe differently. Anyone who has read and appreciated Becoming a Contagious Christian or Just Walk across the Room won’t want to miss this book on creating a safe space to have natural, loving, and spiritual conversations with others.
Why I Choose this Book:
Conversations are interesting, and there's always the balance of carrying on a good conversation with someone who believes differently from you while remaining respectful. Plus, from reading the sub-title I actually thought it was about how to have conversations between christians with different interpretations of the Bible, but that wasn't the case.
What I Thought About this Book:
When I started the book I really wasn't sure what I thought of it. There were several things in the first few chapters that I didn't agree with fully. For example: the authors seemed to almost look down on just out right witnessing (as in, bringing up conversations about God before developing a relationship). I think there are many different ways to witness, and that different people are called to witness in different ways, and each situation is different from all other situations.
After the first couple of chapters though, I found myself agreeing more and more with the book. The overall word that kept coming to mind as I read it was practical. The book was incredibly practical and therefore easy to put into practice.
The main idea I came away with is that as christians we're called to be the salt and light and so therefore we need to fulfill that calling by actively engaging people in every-day life situations. We should be building relationships, then sharing God's truths with those people in a conversational-type setting instead of simply lecturing them.
There were many parts of the book that could have been in any self-development book, but then they related the ideas back to the Bible, pointing out how Jesus is our example. For instance, there was a chapter about asking questions and then really listening instead of asking questions and then forming your reply as they talk. They shared several examples of questions Jesus asked and the situations surrounding those instances. It was pretty cool.
Conclusion:
I read this book all in one day while getting over the flu. After the first few chapters I found it interesting, helpful, and informative. I don't recall any questionable content. The writing wasn't anything to write home about, but it was nice and easy to read.
Rating:
I'm giving The 9 Arts of Spiritual Conversations four stars and recommend it to ages 15+
*I received this book for free from Moody Press in exchange for an honest review*
Find it on: Amazon Goodreads
Third-Person Two Points of ViewNon-Fiction288 Pages
About the Book (Backcover Blurb):
Love God, love people. Could evangelism really be that simple?Often, it doesn’t seem so. It can feel scary, awkward, and uncomfortable as we try to navigate loaded questions and different perspectives. Even the most faithful of believers sometimes get stumped. But can you imagine if we, as Christians, simply spent time with people who are far from God and provided a safe place to talk about spiritual matters? If we listened to them and discovered what was really important to them? After all . . . it’s what Jesus did. And it’s what you can do too.
Drawing straight from the life and ministry of Jesus, The 9 Arts of Spiritual Conversations offers simple practices to help you build relationships with people who believe differently. Anyone who has read and appreciated Becoming a Contagious Christian or Just Walk across the Room won’t want to miss this book on creating a safe space to have natural, loving, and spiritual conversations with others.
Why I Choose this Book:
Conversations are interesting, and there's always the balance of carrying on a good conversation with someone who believes differently from you while remaining respectful. Plus, from reading the sub-title I actually thought it was about how to have conversations between christians with different interpretations of the Bible, but that wasn't the case.
What I Thought About this Book:
When I started the book I really wasn't sure what I thought of it. There were several things in the first few chapters that I didn't agree with fully. For example: the authors seemed to almost look down on just out right witnessing (as in, bringing up conversations about God before developing a relationship). I think there are many different ways to witness, and that different people are called to witness in different ways, and each situation is different from all other situations.
After the first couple of chapters though, I found myself agreeing more and more with the book. The overall word that kept coming to mind as I read it was practical. The book was incredibly practical and therefore easy to put into practice.
The main idea I came away with is that as christians we're called to be the salt and light and so therefore we need to fulfill that calling by actively engaging people in every-day life situations. We should be building relationships, then sharing God's truths with those people in a conversational-type setting instead of simply lecturing them.
There were many parts of the book that could have been in any self-development book, but then they related the ideas back to the Bible, pointing out how Jesus is our example. For instance, there was a chapter about asking questions and then really listening instead of asking questions and then forming your reply as they talk. They shared several examples of questions Jesus asked and the situations surrounding those instances. It was pretty cool.
Conclusion:
I read this book all in one day while getting over the flu. After the first few chapters I found it interesting, helpful, and informative. I don't recall any questionable content. The writing wasn't anything to write home about, but it was nice and easy to read.
Rating:
I'm giving The 9 Arts of Spiritual Conversations four stars and recommend it to ages 15+
*I received this book for free from Moody Press in exchange for an honest review*
June 14, 2016
A More Clear View
It's been fifteen months since I got my glasses, which in turn translates to the most fifteen headache-free months I've had in a long time. Glasses make my world clearer and therefore it's a lot more enjoyable to do activities like sitting in church, driving, and being in meetings since I can actually focus on what's going on. There's even a big difference with what I can see while doing my hair three feet away from the mirror.
Do you know what's crazy though? Nearly every morning I resist putting my glasses on. It's not that I don't like them (because I do). Nor is it that I find them uncomfortable (because I don't). It's actually that every morning an annoying, subconscious warning whispers insistently "No, No, No! They're dirty! Your vision will be blurry! You'll regret it!" at me. So I often don't wear my glasses until I've been up and working in my office for several hours, which is actually rather silly.
To combat the cringing feeling I get at the thought of smudgy glasses I wash them regularly, including each morning before I put them on. And do you know what? I can't remember the last time I regretted putting my glasses on.
Before glassesPutting on my glasses is like getting feedback back from a beta reader. (Y'all knew a writing comparison was coming, right?)
Feedback is so incredibly helpful. It makes my writing and books better; it helps them be more focused and clear. Feedback narrows and enlightens, helps me figure out what the next step is, and helps me see from other people's perspectives. (If only my glasses could do that...)
After glassesOn the flip side though, feedback also presents me with a whole new stack of problems to wash away and that can be a bit overwhelming. Plus, when I receive conflicting feedback from beta readers, it can smudge the clear view I thought I had of the book and confuse me while trying to decide who's feedback to listen to.
That means that sometimes even though I want to get the feedback, I'm also half-way cringing inside as I read it. I've discovered a very important fact though: In the end I'm always thankful for feedback, even when I don't fully agree with it. That's because feedback, like my glasses, have a job to do and make life better when I don't shy away from them.
Currently I have a stack of emails with feedback sitting in my inbox, I have my glasses on, the world is clear, and I'm excited (mostly) to tackle today.
Do you know what's crazy though? Nearly every morning I resist putting my glasses on. It's not that I don't like them (because I do). Nor is it that I find them uncomfortable (because I don't). It's actually that every morning an annoying, subconscious warning whispers insistently "No, No, No! They're dirty! Your vision will be blurry! You'll regret it!" at me. So I often don't wear my glasses until I've been up and working in my office for several hours, which is actually rather silly.
To combat the cringing feeling I get at the thought of smudgy glasses I wash them regularly, including each morning before I put them on. And do you know what? I can't remember the last time I regretted putting my glasses on.
Before glassesPutting on my glasses is like getting feedback back from a beta reader. (Y'all knew a writing comparison was coming, right?)Feedback is so incredibly helpful. It makes my writing and books better; it helps them be more focused and clear. Feedback narrows and enlightens, helps me figure out what the next step is, and helps me see from other people's perspectives. (If only my glasses could do that...)
After glassesOn the flip side though, feedback also presents me with a whole new stack of problems to wash away and that can be a bit overwhelming. Plus, when I receive conflicting feedback from beta readers, it can smudge the clear view I thought I had of the book and confuse me while trying to decide who's feedback to listen to. That means that sometimes even though I want to get the feedback, I'm also half-way cringing inside as I read it. I've discovered a very important fact though: In the end I'm always thankful for feedback, even when I don't fully agree with it. That's because feedback, like my glasses, have a job to do and make life better when I don't shy away from them.
Currently I have a stack of emails with feedback sitting in my inbox, I have my glasses on, the world is clear, and I'm excited (mostly) to tackle today.
June 13, 2016
Horses, Nieces, and Imaginations
Growing up I had a lot of horses. There was Acorn, Tammy Bell, Chestnut, Lightning... And I don't remember the other names. Eventually though, all of the horses faded into the recesses of my imagination except for Chestnut and Lightning. I took them everywhere with me and rode them extensively.
In fact, the horses were so well trained (and fast) that they ran alongside the road while I traveled somewhere and that way we didn't have to worry about horse trailers. Plus, if I got tired of riding in the car, I'd simply get on Lightning and we'd have fun jumping over guard rails and obstacles while keeping up.
The horses were a lot of fun and from time to time I would tell other people about them while I was trotting around outside. As I got older people probably thought I was a bit strange when I described Lightning's brilliant white coat and beautiful brown star, but that didn't bother me. My imagination made life so much more amazing and I wasn't going to let other people's opinions change that... When I was younger I sometimes offered to let people ride the horses, but as time went on and no one took me up on the offer, I eventually stopped.
When I was eighteen I went to South America and stayed with my sister, brother-in-law, and four nieces and nephews for two months. Where we lived it was beautiful, bare, and very difficult to breath. My main task during my visit was to be the teacher to my two nieces.
When school wasn't in session we enjoyed a lot of hanging out time. There weren't many toys around other than a few dolls and so we used our imaginations and anything we could find lying around. One day while we were walking down the dusty streets, keeping a lookout for cowboys recklessly riding horses (because where we lived was the equivalent to the "wild west" of our olden days, complete with gold mines) I got an idea.
These imaginative nieces of mine were clambering for a story, so I decided to tell them about Chestnut and Lightning. After all, one of them often rode a made-up horses of her own, and if I told them about my horses, then I'd be able to join her and we'd go trotting down the road.
To my delight, they were both thrilled to find out that their auntie rode horses. Then there was a plot twist. My oldest niece, who was seven, wanted to ride Chestnut because she didn't have a horse like her sister did. I happily complied and together we slowly trotted down the street. (Slowly because I was still adjusting to living at 12,500 feet and anything more than a walk made me feel like I was going to black out.)
It wasn't long until my niece was asking if she could keep Chestnut for good. I know it probably sounds silly to be attached to a figment of my imagination, but it really was a hard decision to give Chestnut away. By that time I'd had the horse for over a decade and had spent many happy hours with her. In reality though, I still had Lightning (who had always been my favorite), and it was my niece asking for the horse, so in the end I joyously gave her Chestnut. There were some stipulations: She wasn't allowed to sell, give away, or get rid of the horse, and she wasn't allowed to have it die. (Hey! There are some benefits to imaginative gifts.)
My sister's family moved back to the states at the end of my two months with them in Peru, and although they lived several states away from us, we saw them much more than during the pervious eight years.
To begin with, nearly every time we went to see them my nieces would excitedly ask for me to ride the horses with them. I'm not sure there's anything that could have made my auntie heart happier. The niece I'd given Chestnut to even wrote me sometimes, giving me updates about how the horse was doing and what was going on in her life. And that's when I knew that giving Chestnut away had been an amazingly good decision.
Last week I was visiting my sister and her family again, and Chestnut's owner informed me that it had been a while since we'd ridden our horses together and we really should. I heartily agreed, all the while marveling over how it's been six and a half years and my little niece has grown up quite a bit and she still rides Chestnut just like I did when I was her age.
The last full day of my visit we mounted our horses and began trotting down a dirt lane. Their little siblings wanted to join us and I soon was riding double with my three-year-old niece clinging to my back. During that moment I couldn't help but smile, thrilled to pieces at the fact that my imagination and joy had transcended generations.
Who knows? Maybe someday my own kids will ride Lightning and (borrowed) Chestnut. Because after all, imagined horses are the best because they never have to die.
* * *The destination for our Around The World in Fifty-Two Weeks post for this week is... Honduras!
(Today I got caught up with answering all the comments on Noveltea, so, if you left a comment, it should have an answer now.)
In fact, the horses were so well trained (and fast) that they ran alongside the road while I traveled somewhere and that way we didn't have to worry about horse trailers. Plus, if I got tired of riding in the car, I'd simply get on Lightning and we'd have fun jumping over guard rails and obstacles while keeping up.
The horses were a lot of fun and from time to time I would tell other people about them while I was trotting around outside. As I got older people probably thought I was a bit strange when I described Lightning's brilliant white coat and beautiful brown star, but that didn't bother me. My imagination made life so much more amazing and I wasn't going to let other people's opinions change that... When I was younger I sometimes offered to let people ride the horses, but as time went on and no one took me up on the offer, I eventually stopped.
When I was eighteen I went to South America and stayed with my sister, brother-in-law, and four nieces and nephews for two months. Where we lived it was beautiful, bare, and very difficult to breath. My main task during my visit was to be the teacher to my two nieces.
When school wasn't in session we enjoyed a lot of hanging out time. There weren't many toys around other than a few dolls and so we used our imaginations and anything we could find lying around. One day while we were walking down the dusty streets, keeping a lookout for cowboys recklessly riding horses (because where we lived was the equivalent to the "wild west" of our olden days, complete with gold mines) I got an idea.
These imaginative nieces of mine were clambering for a story, so I decided to tell them about Chestnut and Lightning. After all, one of them often rode a made-up horses of her own, and if I told them about my horses, then I'd be able to join her and we'd go trotting down the road.
To my delight, they were both thrilled to find out that their auntie rode horses. Then there was a plot twist. My oldest niece, who was seven, wanted to ride Chestnut because she didn't have a horse like her sister did. I happily complied and together we slowly trotted down the street. (Slowly because I was still adjusting to living at 12,500 feet and anything more than a walk made me feel like I was going to black out.)
It wasn't long until my niece was asking if she could keep Chestnut for good. I know it probably sounds silly to be attached to a figment of my imagination, but it really was a hard decision to give Chestnut away. By that time I'd had the horse for over a decade and had spent many happy hours with her. In reality though, I still had Lightning (who had always been my favorite), and it was my niece asking for the horse, so in the end I joyously gave her Chestnut. There were some stipulations: She wasn't allowed to sell, give away, or get rid of the horse, and she wasn't allowed to have it die. (Hey! There are some benefits to imaginative gifts.)
My sister's family moved back to the states at the end of my two months with them in Peru, and although they lived several states away from us, we saw them much more than during the pervious eight years.
To begin with, nearly every time we went to see them my nieces would excitedly ask for me to ride the horses with them. I'm not sure there's anything that could have made my auntie heart happier. The niece I'd given Chestnut to even wrote me sometimes, giving me updates about how the horse was doing and what was going on in her life. And that's when I knew that giving Chestnut away had been an amazingly good decision.
Last week I was visiting my sister and her family again, and Chestnut's owner informed me that it had been a while since we'd ridden our horses together and we really should. I heartily agreed, all the while marveling over how it's been six and a half years and my little niece has grown up quite a bit and she still rides Chestnut just like I did when I was her age.
The last full day of my visit we mounted our horses and began trotting down a dirt lane. Their little siblings wanted to join us and I soon was riding double with my three-year-old niece clinging to my back. During that moment I couldn't help but smile, thrilled to pieces at the fact that my imagination and joy had transcended generations.
Who knows? Maybe someday my own kids will ride Lightning and (borrowed) Chestnut. Because after all, imagined horses are the best because they never have to die.
* * *The destination for our Around The World in Fifty-Two Weeks post for this week is... Honduras!
(Today I got caught up with answering all the comments on Noveltea, so, if you left a comment, it should have an answer now.)
June 11, 2016
Around the World in Fifty-Two Weeks Week Twenty-Two: Cambodia
Welcome to week twenty-two of my fictitious story,
Around the World in Fifty-Two Weeks
...
Around the World in Fifty-Two WeeksWeek Twenty-Two: Cambodia
Half of Cambodia’s population is younger than fifteen. That’s a freaky and sobering thought. Cambodia has a very dark and sad history and I felt subdued as I began my week-long visit to the Asian country. Of course I had just been in Poland that also had difficult history, but that was part of WW2 and everyone knows that WW2 was horrible. It felt like Cambodia’s past was a lot less known and therefore it hit me harder. I was determined not to gloss over the bad parts, but I also wanted to enjoy the beauty of the country as well. The second day I was in Cambodia I came down with either food poisoning or else the stomach flu, which probably explains one of the reasons why I found the country somewhat depressing. It seems like whenever I get sick the whole world takes a turn for the worse. In order to get better as fast as possible and also not spread germs around, I spent the next two days in my hotel room, “exploring” via the internet. Out of everything I researched Battambang sounded like the coolest place to go. It was founded in the 11th century by the Khmer Empire and is well known for being the leading rice-producing province of the country. I’d never seen rice fields in person although I had seen quite a few pictures with them and have always thought they were lovely. In fact, I once bought a calendar made up solely of rice field pictures. I decided that when I felt better Battambang would be my destination. Battambang is populated by a variety of ethnic groups, including Lao, Thai, Vietnamese, and Chinese. Battambang City was built on the banks of the Sangkae River which is a small, peaceful body of water. The city was established as an important trade city in the 18th century and it’s population of 2,500 people lived mainly along a single road that ran parallel to the Sangkae River. That sounded idyllic to me. The list of things to see in and around Battambang City provided me with enough to do for the remainder of my week and while I was sick I had fun planning exactly what I would do. First I would visit Phnom Sampov which is a natural resort which was located about seven miles outside of Battambang. There are mountains and a temple, natural wells, and lots of beauty. Next I would go to the Battambang Circus. I’d never gone to a circus before and it sounded like it would be pretty interesting. There were performances every Monday and Thursday evening. Since I had obviously missed the Monday one with traveling and then being sick, I decided to try and make it to the Thursday one. I was especially excited about the acrobatics although it made my stomach feel even more sick to think of people flipping around in the air. The best part about the circus was that it’s put on by the students from the NGO art school and helps disadvantaged children and young people get away from bad situations that are connected with poverty. (Situations such as trafficking or begging.) The circus helps the children get an education both in public schools and also in the arts. I think it’s wonderful when people find creative ways to help others while being empowering at the same time. With a country so full of young people it’s obvious that they need help and the circus sounded amazing.
It was my second day of being sick when I stumbled on an excellent blog all about Battambang. It promised that the city itself was peaceful and that some people might even find it boring. That sounded perfect to me. After all, I had just survived the last day and a half on the most boring food I could find - namely plain crackers. The blog also recommended renting a bike while in Battambang, stating that it was the easiest way to get around and to be in contact with the local people and therefore discover hidden gems about the city. The prices they listed were really reasonable so I added that to my list of things to do. They also mentioned how friendly the people were and that there were bat caves, crocodile farms, and an old Pepsi plant to visit. It sounded like a great place to go. I also found a lot of places talking about the bamboo train and so of course I had to look it up. The bamboo train is apparently a wooden pallet on tank wheels with an outboard motor and you ride it on tracks through the jungle and fields. Hummm…Sounds interesting. The train was originally a form of local transportation that evolved out of recycled materials when the Khmer Rouge dismantled the regular train network and people needed a way to get between villages under the radar. Nowadays the bamboo train is used mostly for tourists, though. Each ride is about twenty minutes one way and you stop at a brick factory and village where you can hang out for a while if you want to. There’s only one track and bamboo trains go both ways, so when they meet up, one of the trains has to be dismantled and moved off the track so the other train can go past. Sounds crazy, but apparently they can do that really fast. Okay, so going on a bamboo train was on my list of things to do also.
I’d also heard some people commenting about how they liked Cambodian food, but with the state of how I was feeling, the thought of trying out new foods wasn’t exactly at the top of my list of things to do. I was quite thankful that rice was popular in the country and therefore decided to stick mainly to that for a few days until my stomach had calmed down.
Around the World in Fifty-Two WeeksWeek Twenty-Two: Cambodia
Half of Cambodia’s population is younger than fifteen. That’s a freaky and sobering thought. Cambodia has a very dark and sad history and I felt subdued as I began my week-long visit to the Asian country. Of course I had just been in Poland that also had difficult history, but that was part of WW2 and everyone knows that WW2 was horrible. It felt like Cambodia’s past was a lot less known and therefore it hit me harder. I was determined not to gloss over the bad parts, but I also wanted to enjoy the beauty of the country as well. The second day I was in Cambodia I came down with either food poisoning or else the stomach flu, which probably explains one of the reasons why I found the country somewhat depressing. It seems like whenever I get sick the whole world takes a turn for the worse. In order to get better as fast as possible and also not spread germs around, I spent the next two days in my hotel room, “exploring” via the internet. Out of everything I researched Battambang sounded like the coolest place to go. It was founded in the 11th century by the Khmer Empire and is well known for being the leading rice-producing province of the country. I’d never seen rice fields in person although I had seen quite a few pictures with them and have always thought they were lovely. In fact, I once bought a calendar made up solely of rice field pictures. I decided that when I felt better Battambang would be my destination. Battambang is populated by a variety of ethnic groups, including Lao, Thai, Vietnamese, and Chinese. Battambang City was built on the banks of the Sangkae River which is a small, peaceful body of water. The city was established as an important trade city in the 18th century and it’s population of 2,500 people lived mainly along a single road that ran parallel to the Sangkae River. That sounded idyllic to me. The list of things to see in and around Battambang City provided me with enough to do for the remainder of my week and while I was sick I had fun planning exactly what I would do. First I would visit Phnom Sampov which is a natural resort which was located about seven miles outside of Battambang. There are mountains and a temple, natural wells, and lots of beauty. Next I would go to the Battambang Circus. I’d never gone to a circus before and it sounded like it would be pretty interesting. There were performances every Monday and Thursday evening. Since I had obviously missed the Monday one with traveling and then being sick, I decided to try and make it to the Thursday one. I was especially excited about the acrobatics although it made my stomach feel even more sick to think of people flipping around in the air. The best part about the circus was that it’s put on by the students from the NGO art school and helps disadvantaged children and young people get away from bad situations that are connected with poverty. (Situations such as trafficking or begging.) The circus helps the children get an education both in public schools and also in the arts. I think it’s wonderful when people find creative ways to help others while being empowering at the same time. With a country so full of young people it’s obvious that they need help and the circus sounded amazing.
It was my second day of being sick when I stumbled on an excellent blog all about Battambang. It promised that the city itself was peaceful and that some people might even find it boring. That sounded perfect to me. After all, I had just survived the last day and a half on the most boring food I could find - namely plain crackers. The blog also recommended renting a bike while in Battambang, stating that it was the easiest way to get around and to be in contact with the local people and therefore discover hidden gems about the city. The prices they listed were really reasonable so I added that to my list of things to do. They also mentioned how friendly the people were and that there were bat caves, crocodile farms, and an old Pepsi plant to visit. It sounded like a great place to go. I also found a lot of places talking about the bamboo train and so of course I had to look it up. The bamboo train is apparently a wooden pallet on tank wheels with an outboard motor and you ride it on tracks through the jungle and fields. Hummm…Sounds interesting. The train was originally a form of local transportation that evolved out of recycled materials when the Khmer Rouge dismantled the regular train network and people needed a way to get between villages under the radar. Nowadays the bamboo train is used mostly for tourists, though. Each ride is about twenty minutes one way and you stop at a brick factory and village where you can hang out for a while if you want to. There’s only one track and bamboo trains go both ways, so when they meet up, one of the trains has to be dismantled and moved off the track so the other train can go past. Sounds crazy, but apparently they can do that really fast. Okay, so going on a bamboo train was on my list of things to do also.
I’d also heard some people commenting about how they liked Cambodian food, but with the state of how I was feeling, the thought of trying out new foods wasn’t exactly at the top of my list of things to do. I was quite thankful that rice was popular in the country and therefore decided to stick mainly to that for a few days until my stomach had calmed down.
June 10, 2016
Around the World Update
Hey Everyone! Due to an unplanned (but good) trip this week that caused me to have very little internet service and no other forms of research equipment regarding Cambodia, I didn't get my Around the World in Fifty-Two Weeks episode written yet.
The good news is I got home today and I've begun the research. I hope to get the story posted tomorrow. Thank you for your patience and I hope you've had a great day!
The good news is I got home today and I've begun the research. I hope to get the story posted tomorrow. Thank you for your patience and I hope you've had a great day!
June 9, 2016
Growing Up Reading
A big part of my childhood consisted of being read to and later on of reading to myself and younger siblings.
Other than my mom, my oldest sister was one of the people who inspired my love of reading more than anyone else. I remember back to when I was three and four and she would gather us children around in the living room or her bedroom and we would slip into another world as we listened. She also often used books to help chore time go faster as we mated socks or folded ever-full baskets of laundry.
Some of the stories that she read to me twenty years ago remain my favorites to this day. I have read and re-read the books so many times that they feel like old friends. I named my first dog after a dog in one of the books. I dreamed endlessly about being able to *really* live in the books. I imagined being able to write a story one day and have other children like it.
Now that my sister has a family of her own, one of my favorite parts about visiting them is story time. Each day before nap time and again each night before bedtime they gather as a family to read a couple of chapters in a chapter book. You can also often find the children reading throughout the day.
Earlier today I was reading to them, thrilled at the fact that my little nieces and nephews are growing up with the same enjoyment of books that I grew up with. Even the one-year-old was fascinated while sitting next to me and looking at the book. That's enough to make this auntie heart happy.
Reading is so important and can help so much in life. I'm very happy that I grew up in a reading environment and am excited whenever I see other kids who are being raised in one, too.
***Did you grow up with book? If so, which were some of your favorite? (Chapter or picture books.)
Other than my mom, my oldest sister was one of the people who inspired my love of reading more than anyone else. I remember back to when I was three and four and she would gather us children around in the living room or her bedroom and we would slip into another world as we listened. She also often used books to help chore time go faster as we mated socks or folded ever-full baskets of laundry.
Some of the stories that she read to me twenty years ago remain my favorites to this day. I have read and re-read the books so many times that they feel like old friends. I named my first dog after a dog in one of the books. I dreamed endlessly about being able to *really* live in the books. I imagined being able to write a story one day and have other children like it.
Now that my sister has a family of her own, one of my favorite parts about visiting them is story time. Each day before nap time and again each night before bedtime they gather as a family to read a couple of chapters in a chapter book. You can also often find the children reading throughout the day.
Earlier today I was reading to them, thrilled at the fact that my little nieces and nephews are growing up with the same enjoyment of books that I grew up with. Even the one-year-old was fascinated while sitting next to me and looking at the book. That's enough to make this auntie heart happy.
Reading is so important and can help so much in life. I'm very happy that I grew up in a reading environment and am excited whenever I see other kids who are being raised in one, too.
***Did you grow up with book? If so, which were some of your favorite? (Chapter or picture books.)
June 7, 2016
When Getting Stuck in a Swamp is Comparable to Writing
It was a sunny and warm day when my grandpa, brother, sister, and I decided to go canoeing in the swamps of Florida around eight years ago. We rented two canoes and shoved off the bank, ready for an adventure. The water was a murky reddish-black and lily pads and saw grass grew in abundance; there hadn't been much rain recently and so the water levels were low and the brush levels were high. It was beautiful.
The day was enjoyable until we tried to make our way back to the canoe rental building; we could see it in the distance and had planned to make a big circle and arrive where we had started. The problem was that with the low water levels we soon came to a stand still, stuck in a marshy mess. Using our paddles we were able to maneuver backward and then row a little further and try in another place. This happened over and over again. The problem was that evening, and the closing time for the rental place, was fast approaching and it would take a long time to go back the way we'd come. We were tired by this time, our energy zapped by the hot sun and futile fights against the saw grass. On top of all that it was incredibly frustrating. The building was so close and yet because of creatures like alligators that were abundant in the water we couldn't exactly wade through the swamp to arrive at our destination.
At last we ended up turning back and using up the last vestiges of our allotted rental time backtracking. The sun had sunk far lower than it was supposed to and we were late when we arrived back tired and achy to return the canoes. The rental guy was happy we were safe and informed us that if we hadn't arrived back within 20 minutes protocol would have required him to call in an emergency helicopter to find us.
Recently there have been times when working on When Life Hands You Lymes has felt kinda like being in the swamp. I can see the destination. I can feel the time crunch pricking at me. I try one path and then another, and although I make some headway, I'm still not where I want to me. It's frustrating to be so close to where I want to go, and yet so very far away.
Throughout the last few months I've waded through a whole slew of murky emotions as I try and figure out which scenes are actually needed and which can be done away with. I've tried to look at the book objectively, to sift through the silt to collect the gold and toss out the rest.
I sent WLHYL out to be beta read (which I've begun referring to as Lymeaids) three and a half weeks ago. I've only received feedback from a handful of Lymeaids, but that feedback has made me antsy to hear back from the rest so I can compare and study and come up with conclusions about what really needs changed. I'm dedicated to making WLHYL as good as I can with the help and resources I have. Right now those "resources" happen to be the minds of helpful people. It's hard to be patient when I'm so eager to start in on the next draft, but I'm endeavoring to stretch my patient-capabilities and just focus on other aspects of life.
Writing WLHYL was an adventure. Editing it and writing the subsequent drafts has been a crazy adventure. I haven't always enjoyed it. There have been times when I want to give up. There have been times when I'm so sick and tired of the book I wish it was magically perfect and published and I never have to work on it again. And yet, there have also been many, many times when I've thoroughly enjoyed working with the WIP. I've met a some other writers who have been amazing and helpful and turned into friends, including several who have also experienced Lyme disease. I've learned so much not only about writing, but also about myself. I've gotten lost in the Emerson's world. I've grown and overcome and placed myself solidly outside of my comfort zone.
Yes, working on WLHYL sometimes reminds me of our swamp adventure, but do you know what? I look back at that day in the swamp with fond memories. Although it could have turned out bad it didn't, and I'm pretty sure that I'll forever look back at these months of working on WLHYL with fond memories as well.
(And no pictures today cause we're currently traveling through mountains with very little internet service.)
The day was enjoyable until we tried to make our way back to the canoe rental building; we could see it in the distance and had planned to make a big circle and arrive where we had started. The problem was that with the low water levels we soon came to a stand still, stuck in a marshy mess. Using our paddles we were able to maneuver backward and then row a little further and try in another place. This happened over and over again. The problem was that evening, and the closing time for the rental place, was fast approaching and it would take a long time to go back the way we'd come. We were tired by this time, our energy zapped by the hot sun and futile fights against the saw grass. On top of all that it was incredibly frustrating. The building was so close and yet because of creatures like alligators that were abundant in the water we couldn't exactly wade through the swamp to arrive at our destination.
At last we ended up turning back and using up the last vestiges of our allotted rental time backtracking. The sun had sunk far lower than it was supposed to and we were late when we arrived back tired and achy to return the canoes. The rental guy was happy we were safe and informed us that if we hadn't arrived back within 20 minutes protocol would have required him to call in an emergency helicopter to find us.
Recently there have been times when working on When Life Hands You Lymes has felt kinda like being in the swamp. I can see the destination. I can feel the time crunch pricking at me. I try one path and then another, and although I make some headway, I'm still not where I want to me. It's frustrating to be so close to where I want to go, and yet so very far away.
Throughout the last few months I've waded through a whole slew of murky emotions as I try and figure out which scenes are actually needed and which can be done away with. I've tried to look at the book objectively, to sift through the silt to collect the gold and toss out the rest.
I sent WLHYL out to be beta read (which I've begun referring to as Lymeaids) three and a half weeks ago. I've only received feedback from a handful of Lymeaids, but that feedback has made me antsy to hear back from the rest so I can compare and study and come up with conclusions about what really needs changed. I'm dedicated to making WLHYL as good as I can with the help and resources I have. Right now those "resources" happen to be the minds of helpful people. It's hard to be patient when I'm so eager to start in on the next draft, but I'm endeavoring to stretch my patient-capabilities and just focus on other aspects of life.
Writing WLHYL was an adventure. Editing it and writing the subsequent drafts has been a crazy adventure. I haven't always enjoyed it. There have been times when I want to give up. There have been times when I'm so sick and tired of the book I wish it was magically perfect and published and I never have to work on it again. And yet, there have also been many, many times when I've thoroughly enjoyed working with the WIP. I've met a some other writers who have been amazing and helpful and turned into friends, including several who have also experienced Lyme disease. I've learned so much not only about writing, but also about myself. I've gotten lost in the Emerson's world. I've grown and overcome and placed myself solidly outside of my comfort zone.
Yes, working on WLHYL sometimes reminds me of our swamp adventure, but do you know what? I look back at that day in the swamp with fond memories. Although it could have turned out bad it didn't, and I'm pretty sure that I'll forever look back at these months of working on WLHYL with fond memories as well.
(And no pictures today cause we're currently traveling through mountains with very little internet service.)
June 6, 2016
A Caving Adventure - You Should Come
Every year for the last three years I've gone caving in the Cumberland Caverns with a group of people from Answers in Genesis. It's literally one of my favorite things to do each year and I'm very much looking forward to doing it again this year, Lord willing. (See my posts from previous years
here,
here
, and
here
.)
I decided that this year I would blog about it plenty early in case any of y'all wanted to go along on the adventure as well. The adventure takes place September 3rd, and if you choose to spend the night (which is the best part!) then it goes until the 4th. You can find out more information about it here . You should really at least look into it. I would be delighted to meet some of y'all there.
The first time I walked down into the cave it was like entering a whole new world. It shocked me to think that all this amazing beauty was beneath or feet so much of the time and we are oblivious to it most of the time. It reminds me of snorkeling... The surface betrays so little of what is lurking out of sight. Caving is a perspective-changing event because it helps show that there is so much to life that we don't even think about until we experience it for ourselves.
So, in reality this whole post is a public service announcement letting you know that you have the opportunity to go caving... And, you'd probably really enjoy it and learn a ton and get to hang out with some really cool people (it's so much fun meeting the people who are along for the adventure), so you should at least look into it.
And that's all folks. I'd be happy to (try and) answer any questions you might have.
* * *
The destination for our Around The World in Fifty-Two Weeks post was picked (with her eyes closed) by my little cupcake and blogger-buddy Hosanna, and we are going to: Cambodia!
I decided that this year I would blog about it plenty early in case any of y'all wanted to go along on the adventure as well. The adventure takes place September 3rd, and if you choose to spend the night (which is the best part!) then it goes until the 4th. You can find out more information about it here . You should really at least look into it. I would be delighted to meet some of y'all there.
The first time I walked down into the cave it was like entering a whole new world. It shocked me to think that all this amazing beauty was beneath or feet so much of the time and we are oblivious to it most of the time. It reminds me of snorkeling... The surface betrays so little of what is lurking out of sight. Caving is a perspective-changing event because it helps show that there is so much to life that we don't even think about until we experience it for ourselves.
So, in reality this whole post is a public service announcement letting you know that you have the opportunity to go caving... And, you'd probably really enjoy it and learn a ton and get to hang out with some really cool people (it's so much fun meeting the people who are along for the adventure), so you should at least look into it.
And that's all folks. I'd be happy to (try and) answer any questions you might have.
* * *
The destination for our Around The World in Fifty-Two Weeks post was picked (with her eyes closed) by my little cupcake and blogger-buddy Hosanna, and we are going to: Cambodia!
