If You were an Ice Cream Flavor...

So, I've been struggling with a blog post that just may not get posted. Er...don't ask.

To relieve myself of guilt, stress and discomfort, I am going to treat myself to a bit of 

Ice Cream! 

Who's with me?

I love ice cream. A lot! And since I've moved to the South, I've eaten twice as much ice cream in the past two years than I think I've eaten in the previous five before that!

And popsicles.

Seriously, I have to almost budget Ice Cream into a separate column on the Excel Budget from May to September!

But, as I was listening to my ipod the other day, a favorite song came on and I listened to the words as if it was the first time. (Mindy Gledhill's All About Your Heart.)

It's a love song. A friendship song. A song of acceptance and partnership. 

I don't mind your odd behavior

It's the very thing I savor 

If you were an ice cream flavor

You would be my favorite one.

This struck me. So many times in our world, we are told what our family, our relationships, our romances should look like. Should taste like.

So today, I'm writing a Valentine to the fellows in my life. My husband and my five boys.

My life would be as empty as an Arkansas summer without ice cream without you guys!

And you are each my favorite flavors.

For my husband:

I know your least favorite flavor is Neapolitan. But that's what you are for me. 

You see yourself as vanilla. Others see you as vanilla. 

Vanilla is good. 

You are a Boy Scout. Now some use that as a put-down. Not me. The world would be a better place if more people were 

Trustworthy, Loyal, Helpful, Friendly, Courteous, Kind, Obedient, Cheerful, Thrifty, Brave, Clean & Reverent.

(All ice cream images are from BaskinRobbins.com)

Vanilla is just too unappreciated in the world.

But you are more than Vanilla.

You are also Sweet, Sweet Strawberry. You understand me. You commiserate with me when I run into roadblocks and doubt myself. When I wonder if I can ever make it as a mother, a writer, a person, you are my strongest advocate, my biggest cheerleader. You have the most faith in me, even though you see my dark side. The side I show no one else.

And honey, you are also my Chocolate. Not just any Chocolate, but Brownie Fudge with Nuts!

You know I can't get along without chocolate!

I could say more, but  this is is going out into the wide, wide world. So I'll hush now.

But...you notice that there are nuts in here? Most people never see the nutty, silly side of you. 

But it's there, just well hidden.

Now, for my boys:

For my oldest. My Teenager.

Buddy, I gotta apologize. You are my first and I keep piling expectations on you.

When I look at your youngest brother and remember what my expectations were for you when you were four, I can't believe how fast I've wanted you to grow up. I didn't see that you were just FOUR.

All I could see was you were the big brother to a 2yr old and an new baby and I needed you to be a big boy. 

Gosh, honey, I'm sorry.

This is called Gold-Medal Ribbon. Because you deserve one. But also because you are really, really sweet. And sometimes, Mom comes around and douses your reality with a bunch of salty expectations and Why-Didn't-You's. And you, sweet boy, are so forgiving of your faulty mom. And you just shake it off and keep being sweet. Like Salted Caramel Fudge.

Yummy!

 Epic Child.

#2

What can I say?

We haven't always seen eye to eye lately.

You are an idealist that has had his eyes open to the awful realities of life. You want to take the bitter and dissect it so that you can FIX it. 

And eventually make it AWESOME. 

And EPIC. 

With a great soundtrack.

It's a puzzle you want to know and control.

But mom see's it as a lot of pessimism. And I shut down the bitter before it makes me sad.

But, you buddy, are in the middle of making Jamocha Almond Fudge. I know we'll get to the point where that bitter, dark taste will be balanced with sweet happiness and nutty silliness.

And it will be EPIC!

 My Bouncing Rubber Ball. The Helium-Filled-Balloon of our family.

I cannot even choose one picture of you, how will I choose a flavor for the kid who fits a weeks worth of fun in one day. 

Everyday!

You are Rock N' Pop Swirl Sherbet. (Baskin-Robbins, folks!)

See, you're not even ice cream! No wonder we get so confused around you.

And how do they describe this flavor?

Prepare your mouth for fireworks of flavor with green-grape flavored sherbet and purple-green apple flavored sherbet and popping candy.

  Unpredictable and Fireworks. Yep. You're all that...and more.

You shake up my expectations and show me there's more to life than what I'm settling for.

You are Way Awesome!

Now for #4.

Big for his Britches.

 You, mister, make me laugh everyday. 

 By this time, I should know not to expect cookie-cutter kiddos. But you sure prove it. 

You are so incredibly smart and seem set on keeping up with your brothers, surpassing them if you possibly can. 

And then, sometimes, right in the middle, you realize: 

'Whatever! That's what THEY want.' 

It's not your goal, not your movie, not your game. 

You want something Different. 

More.

And you head out in a totally different direction.

Off Road.

Off Map.

This is for you, mister. Lunar Cheesecake. (Baskin-Robbins, again.)

You are not just off the map, you are Outta This World!

And incredibly sweet and unexpected all the way around.

Now, what can I say about my Little Buddy!

I think after the Roller-Coaster Ride of your brothers, God knew I needed a sweet finale. 

And he gave me you. 

Coconutty, buddy!

Smooth, sweet, and easy to get along with. Pairs up with almost any flavor. But full of nuts, because you have to be to survive this family, hon. 

You fill my days will joy and laughter.

All of you fill me with joy. I am so lucky to have you guys. I am so very blessed.

So, I'm done with winter. I'm ready for warmth and sunshine. 

And Ice Cream.

Because you guys are my Favorite. Always.

That Kid Broke My 'HAPPY'

I've been staying out of craft stores for a few months. 

Part of that reason is money. I get a little creative (in a bad way) with my budget when I spend too much time at Hobby Lobby or Michaels or Jo-Anns.

The other reason is my kids. My boys. All five of them. 

They each have had their not-so-great moments while I've been trying to purchase the exact shade of green corduroy or pack of scrapbooking paper or pretty doo-dad to put on my wall.

Inevitably, when I go with an entourage, something gets broken. So, I should have known.

I should have known.

But a couple weeks ago, I NEEDED to go to Hobby Lobby. My six year old has developed an obsession. With notecards. 

He went through a really cute (and expensive) set of notecards from Target in two days. The kid loves to write, but...did he have to use THOSE?

What about lined paper, computer paper?

"No. I like the little cards. They have pockets you put them in."

"You mean envelopes?"

"Yeah."

So, my mission that day was to obtain a 50-pack of blank notecards that my 6-yr-old can personalize himself. And they were on sale. So instead of almost a dollar a card, I could get fifty for less than $4.00. 

A steal. 

But I also needed to get a birthday present for my niece. Which was the excuse I needed to wander around the store looking at all the pretty eye-candy.

.....With my youngest. 4-yr-old Little Buddy.

I should have known.

So...Notecards. Check.

Now for the eye candy.

I wander the aisles, pretending I own all the pretty stuff. The store has jumped the gun on the garden things, so I hang out in that aisle for five minutes, pretending its spring.

Then we enter the aisle full of RED.

Red framed mirrors, red candle sticks and lots of little red British phone booths made into bookshelves and key caddies. They were sooooo cute!

My 4-yr-old thought they were cute too. He went down the aisle opening the door of each one. I noticed at the end of the aisle several inspirational signs. Nice. They were a little close to the last red phone booth and the edge of the shelf.

If someone's not careful, those signs would get knocked over.

The thought quickly exited stage left as a new Diva of an Idea popped into my head. 

What if I spray painted one of those phone booths BLUE! And put 'TARDIS' on the top!?!

Oooooh!

I needed blue spray paint and a plan to rearrange the budget, so I could blow some cash on a whim. 

"Come on, Sweetie," I called over my shoulder as I steered myself towards the spray paint aisle.

CRASH!

Why didn't I see it coming. Why didn't I move those signs? 

I knew what I was going to find before I turned around.

An open phone booth door and on the floor, the word 'APPY'.

My little buddy retrieved the 'H'.

"Mom, it broke. Can you fix it?"

I was silent a moment. I wanted to walk away from the mess, from the responsibility. I could have. It would have probably been easy, For a moment I stood between two choices.

Then I bent down and picked up the 'APPY'.

"Yeah, buddy. We'll fix it."

We walked to the glue aisle instead of the spray paint aisle and found adhesive that claimed to keep 

anything stuck together.

And then it hit me. This is what I am in my family. 

I am the glue.

I am a writer and a swordsman and singer and an artist and the PTA RIF coordinator.

But I am a mom.

My life is full of broken, lifeless, difficult things that my children expect me to fix. 

To make better. To make sense of. 

To hold everything together.

Homework: Add 6 ones and 1 tens = 16

or 6x + 75 = 123 ... Solve for x

Dinner: Combine flour, butter, herbs and broth. Add sausage, potatoes and onions = Soup

Ouches: Frozen bag of peas + neosporin + bandage

Relationships: Sorry + Eye Contact + Shaking Hands 

Togetherness: Cuddles + Eye Contact + "Tell me about your day." + "I love you."

All this truth swirled around my head as I stood in line at the cashier, buying notecards, a 'HAPPY' sign and the Amazing Space Glue used by NASA to fix Everything.

I have to admit, since then, I've been working on my A-Game. 

Writing is important to me. Cannot even tell you how much. 

But my kids are so very important... Irreplaceable.

And I can't be a writer or a mom very well when I'm multi-tasking.

I stink at both.

So, now when I'm doing family stuff, I'm all in. 

Eye-contact. Listening. Heart open.

When story ideas and plot lines try to edge in, they are noted and then banished until Writing Time.

And when the kids are off to school and its time to write, I know I can't procrastinate on Pinterest. The kids will be home in a few hours and I won't get back to the computer until after bedtime.

And its been better. 

Better Writing Time. Better Family Time.

Not saying all is perfect. 

Perfect is so far away...its not even on the horizon.

But Better is Here. And I love it.

Thanks Little Buddy for helping me fix my 'HAPPY'.

Oh, and to my niece:

Sorry. You're getting a gift card. :)

The Ideal Romantic Hero

I came across this wonderful interview (first of a six part series) by Serena Chase of USAToday with nine authors who responded to questions about romantic fiction as a genre and where it fits in the lives of modern women. 

One of the interviewees was one of my favorite authors, Shannon Hale (who I stalk, so I know when she has cool stuff going on like interviews and new books and her film adaptation of AUSTENLAND being shown at Sundance film festival this weekend...I'm not obsessed, really I'm not!).

So after this fun read, I got to thinking of my favorite heroes in fiction and romantic fiction in particular. I have to say that I loved Wesley (The Man in Black) from The Princess Bride. When I read the book (after I'd seen the movie) I decided I was going to marry that boy...After I mastered my own sword master skills.  Which probably explains why I never married Cary Elwes or a swordmaster.

(See last week's blog regarding my sword obsession.)

I also read Louis L'Amour's historicals (set a few centuries before his westerns, for the uninitiated). Heroes like Barnabas Sackett and his sons, and Mathurin Kerbouchard became my ideals. 

But sword wielding heroes were a bit scarce in the early 90s when most guys I knew wore flannel and were trying to reproduce Nirvana sounds from their guitars or showing other guys how to get a mosh pit started.

In college it was not much better. Maybe I tried too hard? Most weekends while my roomies went on dates, I'd attend dance parties, then go home, curl up in my bunk and read a Dick Francis novel.
I hoped that some horse-mad, everyday-fellow would see my quirkyness as cute and would dig deep into his soul to overcome his shortcomings and defeat the bad guys for me...
or just work up the guts to ask me out on a date.

Finally....

 Finally at the end of college, I had my first real genuine, bonifide boyfriend. He thought I was amazing and "out of his league".
He really said that...about me! I was hooked.
He was a bit of a cowboy. Great! I loved cowboys!
He was a runner, on scholarship for the swiftness he brought to the college track team. Super! I started running and working out and going to track competition things that lasted All-Freaking-Day-Long. 

I even skipped a few classes to spend time with the cutie (I still feel guilty about this!)

But I had my first  kiss and I was...in the club. I was no longer an outsider. I was going on dates, I was staying out late. I even broke curfew! I was so naughty.

(Not really. But it felt naughty. And I was doing it for LOVE so it had to be worth it, right???)

But, we eventually broke up because...well, all the same reasons that so many others have broken up over the eons of history.

Then, after a few of years , I met the ONE! The man that later asked me to marry him.
I first noticed him because he could Ballroom dance. Yeah !  
*raises eyebrows suggestively*
Like Dancing with the Stars - kinda.
We were awesome together (cuz, I can dance too)! 

I soon found out lots more about the guy.

He was a runner.  I (still) wasn't.

He was a science/math brainiac. I was a music/drama nerd.
I loved making music. He was happy to listen to it, but not that LOUD!

Despite the differences, I discovered that I really liked the guy...
Really, REALLY liked him.

And it wasn't because he was bold and brave like the heroes I idolized. At least not with a sword or a pistol or an army at his back.

He was more like Sam, Frodo's buddy in The Lord of the Rings.

Before our second date, he told me about his nephew that his parents were raising. He said, "Other than his grandpa, I'm the closest thing to a dad James has. If anything happened to my parents, James would live with me."
That was it, on the table. James was part of the deal if we got married.

He told me about his relationship that had ended badly. And though I waited to hear him bad-mouth his ex, it never happened.
No blame, no vitriol. I asked why.
He quietly described the problems that led to his divorce. I was aghast. Any other guy would have laid it on thick how he'd been wronged. But my man was different.
It was sad. It had broken his heart. But he wasn't going to spend his energy degrading the woman who had held his heart for so long.

Wow.

When I finally got up the courage to bare the ugly corners of my soul to him, I shouldn't have been surprised that he put his arm around me and let me cry.
(For a very messy and very long time.)

When my father and I had an argument, my man tried to step in as a peacekeeper.
This was my weakest moment. My father was the dragon that needed to be slain. Yet, my man stood up for me. Defended me.
When my (bi-polar) dad started getting out of control, my sweetheart took me away to a safe place.
In my own anger and embarrassment, I raged about my father and he listened. Then he reminded me of the good things my father had done.
He knew I wasn't ready to forgive, not yet. But he encouraged me not to destroy the already damaged relationship with my father.
"Don't throw it all away. Not over this."

And with that, I knew.

This man had the heart of a hero.

He was good. He was brave in his own quiet way. He was loyal.
He would stand by me as I made the best, most difficult choices.

I wanted to be by his side forever.

So, my man may not wield a sword. He may not parry with witty repartee. He sometimes wears that ugly sweater with the burgundy plaid instead of rugged hero-wear. He definitely doesn't fight bad guys (or indians or pirates or masked criminals in back alleys with his bare fists). But I found my hero.

And its funny, though I start each story I write with a handsome fellow who does some (or all) these things. He always ends up becoming my husband somewhere in his heart.
Loyal, brave and true.
Because without those things, he just wouldn't be a hero.

Coaches: Wielding a Pen or a Sword

I LOVE swords! Since watching old black and white Errol Flynn movies to the moment when the Man in Black crossed swords with Inigo Montoya in "The Princess Bride", I have wanted to hold a sword and swashbuckle my way through a crowd of nefarious thugs, laughing all the way.

For a long time, the closest I got was going fan-girl for any movie with a sword fight: "Star Wars", "The Scarlet Pimpernel", "Pirates of the Caribbean" or "Three Musketeers" . 

Or diving into a good book with such characters who either wielded a sword or should have. When I discovered the novels by Patricia Veryan, I was in absolute heaven! I think I read them all. Then while diving into an old Louis L'Amour paperback at my grandma's house, I discovered HE wrote swashbucklers, in addition to gunslingers. I ate up all the novels about Barnabas Sackett and fell in love with Mathurin Kerbouchard. (After so many reads, I can actually spell his name right!)

So what's a girl to do when she exhausts her list of swashbucklers for the third time in the year?

She complains to all who can hear how she would LOVE to take fencing classes, if only she could find some nearby...

My husband finally got tired of my whining. So this past August I walked into my first fencing class (I was a half hour early, I was sooooo excited.

We mostly worked on footwork for the first several weeks, but finally...

I got to suit up and handle a SWORD! 

Okay, its actually a foil, but it has a pointy end and a handle and makes a lovely swooshing sound and if the red rubber tip was off, I could injure someone.

My, don't I sound bloodthirsty!?!

Now for the uninitiated, one look at the picture and you may see nothing wrong. However, after several months of lessons (Yay!) I see this photo and can see that, though I have my feet placed alright and my hand up, (It could also be down or behind my back, but that's personal style of the fencer.)

...The point is my sword is not placed right. It's sticking almost straight up in the air!

Oh, I have learned so much!

But still so little.

Just this past Tuesday night, when I thought I was doing so stinking awesome, one of the coaches came up beside me and pulled my elbow back and my wrist up and then proceeded to show me how I'm using my wrist too much and my fingers not enough. My circles and my parries are much too big.

Sigh!

Part of me was so mad at myself...when will I ever get this right? All the old insecurities birthed in gym class came swooshing back over me. I could SEE what I needed to do. Why could my body not DO it???

A teensy part of me wanted to cry.

But instead, I made a joke. It was dumb and corny, but my coach recognized it for what it was.

"You're really doing well. But you need to build muscle memory. Doing the drills over and over will help your fingers remember what they should be doing. I think we all got lazy over the holidays. Keep drilling! Keep practicing. Go slow until your foil goes where you're aiming. THEN you can speed it up."

I went back to my drill partner. We worked on Lunges, Parry 4's and Ripostes. A part of me started a nagging internal dialogue.

But then, I recalled another coach's inspiring words from a month ago when I had done really well (before the holiday break!).

"Amelia's got the Mojo! Taking on Kevin! And you're getting points! See, all we needed was to tap into your killer instincts! You got this! Keep up the drills and keep challenging these experience fencers. That seems to help you do better. You got this!"

So many times, when we get criticism or critiques, we naturally may want to lash out, cave in, break down.

But we need to remember how much we've improved. Hey, I've been fencing for less than half a year! I'm doing WAY awesome!!!

And when I face my manuscripts with critiques in hand and I want to cry because there is sooo much to fix and I feel like maybe I should toss in the towel, I look for the comments amidst the crits that look something like this:

Overall I think this chapter works really well! My comments are really little nit-picks. I like the dialogue and relationship between the two and it definitely moves the story forward and keeps me interested!

or

I do think you should cut the line "That flash of fear in Taddeo's green eyes finally convinced him." Because you do SUCH A BEAUTIFUL JOB in the next paragraph SHOWING that. It's really good! 

or

AND don't be discouraged by my notes. You're a good writer. I enjoyed everything a lot. I READ the whole thing, and I'm not someone who will keep reading something that is not good. The reason I'm being so nitpicky here and trying to be as detailed as possible is because I really really want to help you. There's so much potential and good stuff here! Let's make it shine :)

I think the biggest thing to look for as you go through to cut things yourself is really REALLY ask yourself if the scene is NEEDED. I know you’re a good story teller. Your writing is good! And your story and characters and world are all things to get lost in. However, I feel that what you need to focus on is what NEEDS to be in the story. What do readers NEED to see and NEED to know for your story to unfold in just the right way? Be aware of what each scene and chapter is telling and showing your readers about the plot, your characters, the world, and what MIGHT happen in the story (i.e., foreshadowing). I think if you take note of all of that, then go through, you’ll see a lot of scenes are telling/showing me the same things. Readers only need to be shown or told once to get it :)

Coaches...We need them in all areas in our lives. We need the ones who take time and say, "Keep your wrist down and your sword angled." or "I think you can find another word here." or "I like this chapter but it doesn't move the story forward. Can you cut this and include a bit of this information somewhere else."

Coaches are awesome, they have experience. They have a good perspective to see what we're actually doing and have the expertise to show us a better way. 

For you writers out there, a friend shared with me this wonderful video series with Brandon Sanderson. Basically they are films of him teaching a university level creative writing class. I've only gone through a handful, but I'm really enjoying. Here's the link: http://www.writeaboutdragons.com/home/brandon_w2012/lecture-1-sub/intro-to-the-class/ 

Lord Have Mercy

I had a several ideas for my next blog post. But after the events in Newtown, Connecticut, I felt silly blathering on about plot and swordplay when so many people were suffering. I know we all must get on with our lives eventually, but I felt it would be insensitive to "move on" so quickly, though I know no one connected with the tragedy and have no ties to that part of the country.

But today, a friend posted a YouTube video by one of my favorite artists, Alex Boye. He and the Soulsaints and the LDC Choir have put together a music video tribute for the victims of the Sandy Hook shootings and their families (and all the rest of us hurting because of the terrible violence). 

I needed some uplifting just about now.

I thought maybe some of you could use some too.

I love the call from olden prophets to be "...willing to mourn with those that mourn; yea, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort, and to stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things and in all places...even unto death..."

These wonderful musicians have used their talents to reach out in sympathy, love and compassion to those who seek comfort in these troubling times.

If you want a few more positive music videos to give yourself something happy to focus on, may I recommend Alex Boye's version of OneRepublic's 'GoodLife'

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sxxpz4eh4Uo&noredirect=1

Or another corroboration with LDC Choir remaking this gorgeous version of 

Mercy Me's 'I Will Rise" 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_FQb-cVwbKE

May you each find a portion of peace in your hearts during this holiday season as we celebrate Light in the midst of Darkness.

Leftovers, Lunches & Learning Lessons in the Kitchen

medievalhistories.com

I felt so lucky today. I had some leftovers. Not just any leftovers.

Homemade Beef Stew. 

With emphasis on the Homemade part. 

It was sooo tasty! Big chunks of creamy potato. Sweet carrots. Lots of onion and garlic to make it flavorful. And a can each of corn and green beans. Okay, green beans aren't my fave in beef stew, but it gets the kids to eat them more than they do, and I am trying to be a good mom and give the little shavers a well rounded diet. The stew even had barley. I never remember to buy the stuff, but I had found a bag of it amongst my beans and oats in the back of the cupboards the other day. So extra hearty and flavorful, especially when I compared it to the bowl of orangey mac n' cheese in my preschooler's bowl. 

(He didn't want to share and neither did I, so we were both happy.)

As I was enjoying my bowl of soup, I was grateful I didn't have to make it from scratch today. Way too busy. But when I had made it two days ago, the process had started at lunchtime, so the beef would be tender and flavorful by dinnertime. Earlier in the week, I'd made Chicken Noodle Soup. From scratch as well. Again, I started it hours ahead of time.

Now, I'm not  all 'Whole Foods'. Nor do I eat homemade, organic, wheatgerm pasta with sauce made from tomatoes grown in my garden, from seeds I planted nine months ago.

Er...no.

I just happened to have a mom who stayed home and taught me a lot of her homemaking skills. And I lived close to her when I was newly married so I could go over and really pay attention, now that I needed to know that stuff.

I don't make ALL my meals from scratch,either. Heaven help me, I've got 5 boys! I do not have enough time for that! But some afternoons/evenings, it works out to do that. 

Especially since cooking from scratch is so much cheaper than the more fully prepared varieties. And since my dear husband is a school teacher, you can guess why "cheap" is an often used word in our household.

But cooking from scratch has a great side benefit if one is a writer of fiction of any variety earlier than the last forty years. Because every character, though only between the pages of a book, they gotta eat. And if they live before McDonald's existed and don't have enough money for servants or eating out every night, they gotta be able to find their way around the kitchen, even if it's just to make scrambled eggs or make toast (and I'm not taking about in a toaster either!!!).

So far, my stories are set in pre-kitchen appliance times. And food then was never fast or convenient. A medieval guy's version of fast food was a hunk of cheese and a heel of bread. Easy to carry in one's pouch, purse. Easy to grab and go. (Though of course the bread had to be made before hand.)

Or, if the season was right, some berries or nuts off the bushes. Highly convenient when that happens. 

Really not convenient if it's late autumn to early spring. Nothing's available. 

And no corner grocery store.

Or $5 Little Ceasar.

Oh my goodness, we are so blessed! 

As I've been writing these stories and sticking in a few details here or there about feasts, everyday meals, and snacks, I've  pondered how much our eating habits have changed over a hundred years. There is so much preparation that we skip now days. 

Washing and chopping vegetables. 

Browning and slow cooking tough cuts of meat. 

Heck, we don't even have to butcher the animals! 

 For that matter, I don't have to keep my husband and boys chopping wood all year, so I can have a fire in my fireplace/stove to cook my dinner. I don't have to bend over that hot fire.
I don't have to be careful of keeping my skirts from the embers. I don't have to worry about catching fire while cooking my stew. 

(I've read that a hundred and fifty years ago, more women died from cooking related injuries than any other cause of death, except childbirth.)

When writing a historical novel, or historically based fantasy novel (which is me!), one must not only think of the differences in clothes, transportation and housing. But food (and how one gets it or prepares it), is a very important part of a character's life. And if that character is not modern or isn't a child anymore, then a good deal of consideration should go into what efforts they must make to obtain their 'daily bread'.

At my last SCBWI conference, I was in an intensive with Carolyn Yoder, editor for Calkins Creek Books,and a senior editor at Highlights magazine, who spoke about common mistakes she stumbles across in manuscripts. One thing she mentioned three different times in those three hours, was:
"Make sure your characters eat!"
(And make sure it is historically correct.)

Now, if you are looking for help in the kitchen or in your text-only kitchen, I recommend the following resources: 

Better Homes and Gardens New Cook Book or Baking Book
(Lots of side notes, pictures and explanations)

Good Housekeeping Cook Book
(My mother-in-law gave me her old one and I learned much from that tattered copy)

Jamiecooksitup.net
(Lots of great photos from start to finish. Not historical per say, but very good step by step directions for yummy food.)
There are lots of food blogs out there, I just find Jamie's a very easy to follow, simple ingredients, but still good kind of blog.

Or, really the best resource....
Go to your church or synagogue or other organization that has regular 'pot-luck' type gatherings and ask around for the lady who brings the best dishes.
Casserole, soup, rolls, pies, homemade candy, etc.
Find this lady (it possibly could be a fellow), and ask to become her student. Offer to go in halfsies on the ingredients and make/eat dinner together.
 Or invite over some friends. Or a family in need.
 Or a group of starving artists that you've been dying to have an evening with.
Or maybe take candy lessons from one person, bread making lessons from another, and learn to make homemade noodles from yet another.
This will cost little and give so much back to you by way of personal enrichment and expanding of your world, both personally and in culinary matters.
If this person happens to be older and lives alone, this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Start asking questions. Find out where she (or he) learned her skills. At her mothers side? In a cafe? During WWII using ration coupons? Lots of amazing conversations will soon follow. And plenty of inspiration, I am sure.

So, expand your horizon in culinary matters, and see how much your life can be enriched.

I shall let you ruminate, masticate and digest these thoughts with only two more words from culinary connoisseur, Julia Child:

recipeboy.com

Bon Appetit!

Better Blogging... Smarter Blogging... More Cool Stuff

Have you ever said a word so often that it begins to sound strange in your ears? Or taken a second glance at something that you've seen dozens of times a day, and yet suddenly it is a new experience?

I have been pondering my place as a writer in this world the past several weeks.
What is my goal? Where do I go from here?
Writing great adventure/romance (and the goal of eventual publication) continues to be my joy.
I love my stories.
I love the thrill of taking what's in my head and writing (and rewriting) so someone else can imagine my characters and their journeys through  quests, challenges,and romance.

I tried to zoom through NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) with my newest story...and then was side tracked by familial obligations. True, I had quite a few out-of-town family come visit and I needed to dedicate some intensive time to my children, lately. The zooming happened in a week and half and the rest of the month was a bit of a put-put-puttering. 

(Almost 15k words...not 50k, but still some good stuff and more than nothing!)

I also received a particularly upsetting rejection this month. No hurtful words were given or received. However, I was hoping for a particular opportunity...and it never happened. 

I also broke the biggest rule I had given myself about this blog.
Keep it positive!

I know we can't always write about fluffy bunnies nibbling clover. (Little bit boring.) However, I knew I didn't want this page to become a snark page or a pity party. And I threw a pity party for myself last week. Online. On my blog. How utterly embarrassing and ... can I go crawl under a rock, now?

I did receive wonderful support both in comments, on the phone and in person, but I started wondering about the best place for this blog in my personal life, in my writing life and in my future.

I did read some wonderful information about "Slow Blogging", a movement based on a 2006 'Manifesto' written by Canadian software designer Todd Sieling and in turn based on Alice Walker's "Slow Food" movement. The idea is quality blogs (that people actually want to read) versus quantity (brain vomit that nobody is interested in reading). And these on a regular basis, MWF, TTh, once a week, once a month. 

This sounds like something I can really get behind. And...I seem to be doing this anyway. Ha Ha!

I also read some great information (mostly on blogs) about shaping one's author brand. So I want to make sure that my posts here reflect more of:

My love for Adventure, Romance, SWORDS!

lughofthelongarm.deviantart

Other stuff that gets me thrilled: political intrigue 

'The Borgias' via Showtime

(many centuries ago...don't mention 2012 presidential politics within my hearing or reading, please!)

Music...that inspires my stories or just plain inspiring.

kingsburyhall.utah.edu

Fencing and other swordplay, rock climbing, swimming, hand-to-hand combat, survival skills and other skills that I learn/study to help me inhabit my characters and their world.

whatisfencing.com        h2hcombattraining.com

Cool photos of places, costumes, etc. that inspire my writing, my stories.

buzzle.com

So more of THAT fun stuff and less of me whining. 

I won't promise to NEVER whine, ever, because sometimes, hard times are the best teacher, the best motivator, the best cesspool of experience to draw from when we are crafting a story. So a bit of whining, but all in context with story.

So this is my own manifesto: Cool stuff, less whining, blogs at least once a week, on topic and with content.

I hope you enjoy!

What do you think? Less is more?