Tag Archive | writing

Out of the shoebox . . .

I used to imagine myself writing for children, I seemed to always come up short in my efforts though. I decided to take a course dedicated to writing for children. How hard could it be? For me, very. I could never find my voice in the realm of children’s literature, it wasn’t for lack of trying.

Frustrated by my futile attempts, I enrolled in a children’s writing course. I floundered. My instructor praised my every effort without providing me with much instruction, constructive criticism or critique. I’m embarrassed to admit I didn’t finish the course.

Sifting through my shoeboxes again, I came upon the first assignment I submitted. A simple little story which took me weeks to put together and left me feeling like a dismal failure. Every now and then, I still try to eke out a story for the little ones, Each time I do I’m reminded I am better at writing about them instead of for them . . .

Oct. 24, 1992
# ED75006

Roberta’s Secret Ingredient

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Roberta Rabbit awoke early to prepare for the big pie contest. She wanted to start her pies before the other pie makers. “I just know I’m going to win a blue ribbon today.” she mumbled to herself as she slipped out of bed. Roberta was still sleepy. She stayed up most of the night thinking about the contest.

“No one can top my recipe for sweet carrot pie!” thought Roberta as she made her way to the kitchen. She cheerfully began gathering her ingredients while singing a little tune, “Eggs and sugar, flour and spice, are some of the things that make my pies so nice. The sweetest of carrots grown with rain from above, all mixed together with a spoonful of love. A pinch of this and a dash of that, then my secret ingredient…” suddenly, Roberta stopped singing and was no longer very cheerful. As a matter of fact, she was quite upset.

Before she went to bed she’d placed her secret ingredient on the cupboard and now it was gone! She searched everywhere, but it was nowhere to be found. Roberta was so busy running about the kitchen she almost didn’t see the little mouse who was eating the last little bit of the secret ingredient.

“Little mouse!” cried Roberta, “I needed that for my pies!” The mouse just looked at her and scurried away. “How will I ever win now?” she sighed.

Hoping to find more, Roberta decided to go to the market. She put on her hat and coat and began her walk. As she rounded the corner she almost ran right into Mrs. Grumble Bunny. “Excuse me,” said Roberta, “I’m in an awful hurry, I’m so sorry.”

Mrs. Grumble Bunny frowned, “Well dearie, I’m in a hurry myself, I have a contest to win. Good day Roberta.” and she continued hopping down the lane.

Roberta continued on her way. When she reached the market she quickly found what she was looking for. She was so relieved she began singing her song again. Roberta heard a voice behind her. Startled, she turned around to see Harriet Hare.

“What are you singing Roberta?” she asked.

“Nothing in particular.” replied Roberta.

“I thought I heard something about a secret ingredient. Is that your secret there?” said Harriet pointing to the jar in Roberta’s hand.

Roberta was too nervous to answer, she was worried she’d given it away. “Are you entering a pie today Harriet?” she asked.

Harriet smiled, “Of course I am, my recipe is sure to win! See at the contest!”

Roberta waved goodbye and hurried along to pay for the secret ingredient. She rushed home and began baking her pies. Once again, Roberta was cheerful and happy. When the pies were finished she set them out on the window sill to cool, She plopped down in her comfy chair and watched carefully for the little mouse. As she sat there, she nodded off to sleep and dreamed of her pies and the blue ribbon she hoped to win.

As Roberta rested, her pies were drawing quite an audience. The wind carried the scent of her sweet carrot pies throughout the neighborhood. Roberta awoke to find the whole town outside her window.

“What are you doing out there?” she asked.

“We could smell your wonderful pies, we came to see if we could have a taste.” one of the gentlemen replied.

Roberta gave it some thought, “Of course, come inside.” Everyone sat down as Roberta served the pie.

“This is the best pie I’ve ever tasted!” said someone.

“You really must give me your recipe,” said another. Even grumpy old Mrs. Grumble Bunny was smiling.

Harriet Hare went to Roberta, “You deserve to win this contest, I’d sure like to know your secret.”

“Sorry,” replied Roberta with a big grin, “I can’t give away my secret but I’ll bake you a pie anytime you like!”

“It’s almost time for the contest.” said Roberta, “We’d all better get going if we don’t want to be late.”

“Wait!” yelled a voice from the crowd, “All the judges are here and we’ve decided if it’s alright with everyone, we’d like to award Roberta with first place right now!”

There wasn’t a word of protest from anyone. Roberta was given the most beautiful ribbon she’d ever seen. She was so happy she gave everyone another slice of pie. When they’d all gone, Roberta hung her ribbon where she could always see it, she was very proud of having won first place.

After that day, Roberta always sang her song whenever someone asked for her secret. “Eggs and sugar, flour and spice, are some of the things that make my pies so nice. The sweetest of carrots, grown with rain from above, all mixed together with a spoonful of love. A pinch of this and a dash of that, then my secret ingredient…” but she’d always stop before finishing the tune and walk away with a smile on her face.

Crystal R. Cook

One Lovely Blog Award

Thank you awrestlingwriter for nominating my blog for the One Lovely Blog Award. I started this blog at the end of May thinking I would most likely be giving up on it by the beginning of June, sometimes my optimistic side stays hidden in the shadows. I’m happy to say I’m still around and happier to have become part of a community of like-minded people, gifted and gracious.

One Lovely blog Award

My nominator says . . .

“So, the One Lovely Blog Award nominations are chosen by fellow bloggers for those newer or up-and-coming bloggers. The goal is to help give recognition and to also help the new blogger reach more viewers. It also recognizes blogs that are considered to be “lovely” by the fellow-blogger who chose them. This award acknowledges bloggers who share their story or thoughts in a beautiful manner to connect with their viewers and followers.”

In acceptance, those nominated have a few guidelines to follow:

Thank the person who nominated you for the award.
Add the One Lovely Blog Award logo to your post and/or blog.
Share 7 facts/or things about yourself.
Nominate 15 bloggers you admire and inform nominees by commenting on their blog.
7 Things About Me

So then; 7 things about me . . .

I am not normal. Weirdly random with an offbeat sense of humor. I don’t fit into any societal molds, I am simply, unashamedly, and happily who I am.

I am a woman of faith. I try to honor The Lord each moment, I fall short of his glory daily and earnestly seek his council and forgiveness when I do.

I hoard books. I love reading and re-reading the classics, I actually enjoy reading Shakespeare, I’ve committed pieces of Poe to memory simply by reading them so often.

The first book I remember reading as a child is The Old Man and the Sea by Hemingway.

I have four positively amazing, inspiring children. They are my heroes. My oldest two are autistic, one of them is bipolar as well. My daughter has spread her wings, married and moved away. I want her back sometimes. My youngest will graduate next year, he is a witty genius and one of my truest friends.

My  mother is my best friend.

I have been in love with my husband since I was sixteen. That was . . . a long time ago.

On to the nominations; this one is difficult as I am so new to the community of bloggers, I haven’t had the opportunity to really delve into many of the blogs I have clicked that little follow button on, for now these six blogs are the ones that have touched my heart, of course there are more, choosing is overwhelming. They may be new to blogging or veterans of the blogging world, they are all lovely to me.

http://wereallmadheretheblog.wordpress.com

http://chocolatevent.com

http://doctorly.wordpress.com

http://diapersandtutus.wordpress.com

http://thinspiralnotebook.com

http://dearyesterdaygoodbye.com

Thank you again, awrestlingwriterfor thinking of me . . . If you hadn’t been my nominator you would certainly be on my list of nominees :o)

An award, a gift & my gratitude

I have a small confession to make. I started this blog anticipating utter failure. I was quite certain it would flounder and float aimlessly in the realm of blogdom until I simply gave up and deleted the whole thing.

I’m not entirely certain what makes a blog successful. I tried to research what to do and what not to do, everyone has an opinion and there are plenty of them to choose from. After reading advice from many bloggers I decided I would just forget it all and simply go with my own randomly unorganized way of doing things.

It suits me. I still have no idea what makes a blog a smashing success or if mine will ever be considered as such, but I no longer fear its inevitable demise. Well, perhaps a bit, but that too is in my nature.

Self doubt is a nasty intruder, it paid me a visit the other day and almost had me convinced I was wasting my time, I was ready to delete it all and go back to my journals, hiding my words from all eyes but my own.

God has a way of quelling my doubts in the most unexpected of ways.

I awoke to a sweet message from a fellow blogger, awrestlingwriter.  She nominated my blog for an award. I’ve seen them posted to various blogs I enjoy following and I must say, I secretly wanted one to decorate my page with.

One Lovely blog Award

I know the magic of these awards shared throughout the community of bloggers has worn off for some of the more seasoned among us, but as this is my first, I celebrate it. It renewed my resolve to continue, but my doubts still lingered, they never go away willingly.

Later in the day I arrived home to a package. It was from CafePress. It was addressed to me. Weird. I hadn’t ordered anything. I figured it was a mistake I would have to repackage and return.

It wasn’t.

It was a gift. A thoughtful, encouraging gift from a beautiful friend I’ve not yet had the privilege to meet face to face, she is as dear to me as any. I’ve felt her friendship and love from a distance and it’s real, a blessing in my life. Opening that box scared away the doubts still lingering within me.

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I have so much to share, so many words longing for release, so far I’ve been clinging to the wall like I did when I first put on a pair of roller skates, maybe it’s time to let go. Baby steps . . .

Thank you my friends. Thank you.

26

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All bold companions,
delicately easing forward,
gathering heartsome ideas joyfully,
keeping light my noisome obduracy.
Perfecting quiet respite,
soothing the uproarious voices within.
Xenomorphic yet zoetic.

Crystal R. Cook

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Words upon a page

Crystal R. Cook

Crystal R. Cook

Crystal R. Cook

Every word I write is a beat of my heart . . .

Crystal R. cook

I have an issue with that.

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I have an issue with that, the word that, that is. The word itself is useful enough, important even at times; other times, not so much.

First, the fundamentals. That is typically considered a function word, meaning it has a function, a subordinating conjunction function. I couldn’t resist.

That is used to introduce a clause stating a reason or purpose, to introduce a clause that is the subject or object of a verb, and used to introduce a clause completing or explaining the meaning of a previous noun or adjective.

To be honest, an entire page could be written regarding the various uses for the word in question, I think I’ll skip it and get to the point of this piece. If you’re interested in learning all there is to know about the word that, and who wouldn’t be, Google has you covered.

My particular peeve is the unnecessary overuse of this particular four letter, subordinating conjunction. One of the first things that I do when I’m sent something to edit or critique is eliminate the word that everywhere that it can be eliminated.

I’ll use a recent email that I received – I was wondering if you could check out this essay that I wrote. I was hoping that you could give me some tips that I could use to make it better. I think that it’s pretty good but I want to make sure that it is.

My reply – I was wondering if you could check out this essay that I wrote. I was hoping that you could give me some tips that I could use to make it better. I think that it’s pretty good but I want to make sure that it is.

I would be happy to look over your work and provide you with any insights or advice I can. My first piece of advice, is to go through your essay and remove the word that, as I have done above, wherever possible, and copy it back to me.

With just this simple edit, her essay took on a maturity that it was lacking, it became more readable, and ultimately, more likely to meet her professors expectations.

Most of us are guilty of inserting the word that where it isn’t necessary. When I find old articles or stories that I’d written before I had my grand epiphany about the word, I cringe at the number of times I see it sprinkled throughout the text. It wasn’t until I started editing for others that I noticed how choppy and unrefined something reads when that is practically used as a comma throughout their work.

Obviously, sometimes you need the word that, I don’t want to vilify the poor word, quite the opposite, I want to give it the dignity it’s deserving of. Following one pretty simple rule makes it easy, if your sentence is not going to lose meaning without the word that, you don’t need it.

Example: I was hoping that we could have a picnic this afternoon.
I was hoping we could have a picnic this afternoon.

The second example has better flow.

When you begin your next work of words, be on the lookout for that and make certain that it is being utilized properly. Before you hit enter or publish or send, take a minute to double-check, it will make a difference, I can almost guarantee it.

Crystal R. Cook

Just beneath the surface.

I truly have no idea what I want to write. I suppose that’s not entirely true, I’ve too many things I want to write would be a far exceedingly accurate representation of my current situation. There are so many words inside of me, fighting to be set free. They seem to be canceling each other out in an effort to be given life.

Long kept memories, some good, some I wish could simply be forgotten, wrestle with the new, clamoring for release. Ideas and epiphanies stored in the recesses of my mind, stories and dreams and fantasies, ancient hopes and longings, emerging wishes, knowledge and insights begging to be shared. The cacophony of silent rumblings never seem to rest.

The tangled remnants of thoughts within me wrestle with emerging ruminations, which do I favor? How do I choose? I sit to write, willing one or the other to rise to the surface, making my choice clear, but I wait in vain. They can’t decide so I must choose, but the how eludes me. They taunt me, floating just below the horizon of conscious thought, knowing I can’t quite reach them there.

Sometimes I doubt their existence, call them tormentors and illusions, but that would mean I’ve gone mad without realizing I’d somehow slipped from realities grasp. No, they are as real as the pen I hold. They are unforgiving perhaps, slighted in some way because I did not release them sooner, I could not release them, it wasn’t their time. Perhaps it still isn’t.

Maybe tomorrow they will willingly come . . .

Crystal R. Cook

This Place

A place to be who I am
no walls to hold me
no chains to bind me
A light in the
dark recesses
of my soul
Acceptance
long searched for
may finally
be found
No longer alone
with my
thoughts
never shared
no one cared
until I found
this place
where the
thoughts of many
are kept by keepers
who know
the value of
each one.

Crystal R. Cook

I rise and write.

Hendrick ter Brugghen - Old Man Writing by Candlelight

Hendrick ter Brugghen – Old Man Writing by Candlelight

When the sun settles for the night and the moon begins its reign, I rise and I write.

Insomnia is often a writer’s friend, perhaps even their only friend at times. It can also be an innocent and unintentional adversary. Many nights I have laid my head upon my pillow in hopes of drifting into dream. Instead, my mind begins to think on things I should have thought of throughout the day. Ideas and epiphanies chance moonlight visits to my conscious mind, begging me to rise and give them life upon a page.

Sonnets of silence serenade me with lullabies not meant to calm me to rest, but rather charm me to dream a thousand wakeful dreams. With my eyes open, pen in hand, word by beautiful word, they enchant me. A writer’s respite is not often found in the dark of night. Meandering minutes quickly turn to hours when a wandering muse beckons. When night retreats to the rising sun and the words silence to claim the sleep that was meant to be mine, it is time again to start another day.

Coffee in hand I stumble through, vowing not to stir again before the morning sun. I almost make myself believe I will slumber when the night comes, but when it does the seduction of solitude is too much to resist and I find myself once again, dancing with words across a page like lovers in a dream. I know too well the next day will be filled with weary eyes and a yawning, yearning for sleep.

Sometimes, when the night words come to steal my tomorrow, I refuse to play. When I do not heed their call, they whisper louder to lure me from my bed, knowing I will mourn their loss if I do not rise and claim them for my own. As a willing servant I follow and frolic just as I did the night before. Though happy to have the gift of them granted to me, I know there will be a price to pay, and I gladly pay it without pause.

There are moments I admit I have wished them gone. When my tired eyes blur and my head pounds in time with the beating of my heart, sometimes I wish them gone . . . but not really. Without them I would cease to exist, at least I fear I would. Every now and again, they retreat and sleep consumes me. I never fear their leave of me; they are silent and still only long enough for my body and mind to rejuvenate before they come again to play.

I welcome them and look to the light of the moon to guide our way through another night.

Crystal R. Cook