The first time I heard another writer call what she was doing work, I stared at her. She was one of my best friends and actually the one who had made me start my first novel. Jean Walton was the one who introduced me to a writing group called NOLA, North Louisiana Authors, a Romance Writers Association chapter.
I asked Jean how indulging in my passion for building stories might be called work. She replied building usually involves work, that is, if the one who is involved in building is not some lazy bum who only puts in a lick or two when then foreman isn’t looking.
Well okay. Maybe writing can be called work.
But at times it can also be called joy. It can be called torture. Joy, even transcendent joy, when I might read over something I had written the day before and could not believe or even remember that I had written it. Torture if instead, I reviewed the last page I had written the day before and found it was pure crap.
So I seem to have a love/hate relationship with my chosen profession. Is your chosen profession writing? Are you a wanna be writer? Or, are you a faithful reader.
Just remember writing is joy. Writing is torture. Writing is work. Treat it with the respect it deserves.
The post before this one was written in 2014.
This one was written this morning when I wrote to my oldest daughter. Both posts mention God. He is the one who gave me every ability I have. Music, writing, teaching. So here goes my second post of the day.
This is what happens to these computers and satellite devices of every description. Something in them gets stuck and it just stays stuck until you fool with them enough trying to clear it out that finally the stupid machine understands that the command it was holding onto is wrong. The machine can’t help it. But that’s when I always want to chunk it out the window.
I think God must feel that way about us sometimes, but He is always patient and He will never throw us into the fiery pit if we are His. He will just keep on adjusting us until we realize that command our selfishness wants to hold on to can be rooted out.
I’m facing another day. It is a day when I must write. Easy? No. Can I do it? Not alone. What is God’s part? The main one. What is my part? To be there. In the chair, hands on keyboard or pen, writing.
All my other concerns must be left behind. No longings to jump to another project must intrude. No fears I can’t manage my tasks must cloud my visions of the writing. No straying from God’s will for my writing must occur.
This is my writer’s prayer for today.
I am visiting two of my sons in Tennessee. It is Saturday afternoon.
Rather late. I apologize about writing so seldom. I should do this
more. It is mid spring. Time for flowers, and new leaves on the trees.
I forget ... never remember ... get too busy to share my thoughts here.
Hopefully, I may visit here more often. And share.
I wrote this poem about a scene like the one below.
Black against a gray sky.
Leafy branches that now are bare.
But when the leaves appear,
They will look like black lace
Against a gray, rainy sky.
This older writer is as sturdy as an old oak tree ... or maybe an old oaken bucket since I seem to be full of many things.
To get back to oak tree analogy, in my front yard when I was little there stood a very old oak tree. It was an easy tree to climb. It was a wonderful place to play games. Make believe ones, or making towns in the soft, sandy soil it sheltered. Many of its roots were on top of the ground.
I lived in a small town in Southwestern Louisiana that sat only thirty miles from the Gulf of Mexico. The lake my town was named after, Lake Arthur, could take you all the 30 miles between us and the Gulf.
Salty Gulf breezes blew, sometimes in a lazy fashion, sometimes gusty and strong when a storm was brewing.
My family was in love with the water. Sailing, bigger boats, and daily swims filled my days on the lake. Except for Sunday when we could not head for the lake but must instead attend church.
Earlier this year I was interviewed by a television crew for an episode of the popular series DEADLY WOMEN that airs on the Investigation Discovery channel. Most cable and satellite providers carry this channel and it may be listed as the ID channel. The episode I am in will premiere on Saturday night. I was interviewed about my book, STONE JUSTICE, which I co-wrote with Debi King McMartin. I can’t wait to see how the interview turned out. I can’t wait (though I may cringe when I see myself) for the first viewing. Air time is 9 pm Central, 10 pm Eastern and Pacific time.
OH and I almost forgot. The newest edition of Stone Justice is once again available in print and Kindle on Amazon. I also have a short story on Kindle which will be free for the next few days. Title of the short story is Lucy Lee and the B & B. Enjoy.
A new book of mine is out today. Or maybe I should say a new/old book has been redone and is available again to my readers.
If you’ve never read anything I have written, read Stone Justice.
It’s the true story of Toni Jo Henry who was executed in 1942 for a crime she might have committed, but probably did not. Though she was there when J.P. Calloway was killed, did she actually pull the trigger? That’s for you to decide.
Three trials, three juries of twelve men, decided she did. Toni Jo was the only woman ever executed in the electric chair in the state of Louisiana.
This is a true story based on real people. It’s a slice of life from long ago. It’s a tale of greed. A tale of violence. A tale of justice gone wrong.
But ultimately, it is a tale of redemption. It is available now in print and on Kindle at Amazon.