Category Archives: Writing

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Fast Talking Our Way Around Cornwall

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Donna Freedman Arriving In Cornwall 2011

 

How much can you squeeze into a short 42 hour visit and still catch a few hours of sleep? John and I had a chance to find out when Donna Freedman rolled into our Cornish community on Tuesday afternoon.

I’ve included only a few pictures from our short time together and I have to add that while I took quite a few pictures of Donna, I did agree that I would not post them without approval. I understand that completely as I’m that way too and it’s a promise I make a lot so people won’t be put off by my documentary style of shooting.

Here’s an outline of what we managed to see and do while she was in Cornwall.

DAY 1:

After a quick sandwich and luggage drop at home, we made a mad dash over to Port Isaac to see a Cornish fishing port that also serves as a part-time set for the television show, Doc Martin.

We had a good walk around the village, stopping to pet a few dogs, eat some Cornish ice cream, and tour an art gallery located in former Methodist church.

On the drive there and back, we passed through a few villages complete with churches that looked a lot like the church in photo below. They’re everywhere here even though they are rarely full these days. Churches in England suffer from a lack of members as my friend Alycia points out here and it’s a struggle to keep them up.

During our drive, we met an oncoming car in one of our narrow lanes and John whipped it into reverse backing up so fast that I think his speed surprised Donna in much the same way it did me when I came over the first time. He should have been a race driver as good as he is behind the wheel.

Driving across the moor in the dark, we came upon a group wild ponies hanging out in the road and Donna wondered aloud as I often do whether they might move for the car. I always hope the moorland ponies will be visible when people come to visit and was pleased to see them.

John made a turkey chili for dinner while I handled the salad and dessert. Since it was Shrove Tuesday, we had pancakes with a baked apple/pecan mixture inside and vanilla ice cream and maple syrup on top.

After that we rushed off to a neighboring village so Donna could see bell ringing practice and try her hand at it as well. John went the pub next door for a pint instead of church and we stopped in after for a minute before heading for home.

Once home, Donna and I stayed up talk, talk, talking, sitting side by side on the sofa, holding our laptops and sharing our stories until my eyes began to close. I went off to bed and she stayed up to finish some writing and managed to post to her blog while I was getting some rest.

Day 2:

After breakfast on Day 2, Donna and I walked to the village shop so I could post a letter and pick up some pasties for lunch. While there, she had a chance to see how helpful folks are here as I asked someone in the shop about what I thought were locked church doors. ( There’s a roster of folks who open and close it each day)

After two phone calls, Margaret determined the church was actually unlocked already and that I just needed to go back and put some muscle to the door. Feeling slightly silly for having been too fragile about it, we walked back to the church where I gave the door a push so we could have a look around. Our village has one of the prettiest churches around with parts of it dating back to Norman times although it was transformed in the 15th century.

Around noon, John and I took about an hour or so to join some others from the village attending the funeral of our next door neighbor who died a week ago Sunday.

We went home for a quick pasty lunch and to pick up Donna before heading out to see Boscastle, a fishing village that was ravaged by a flash flood in 2004, but has since recovered. It’s a good place to pick up the coast path and I was focused on getting Donna on the coast path at least once even with the limited amount of time she was with us. You just can’t come to Cornwall and leave without a walk on the coast path!

We made it back in time for me to make a couple of blackberry cobblers with berries I picked and froze last summer. Saving them for dessert later, we walked down to the pub for dinner and quiz night.

We Won!

We joined friends, Jeff and Robert, teaming up to WIN the pub quiz while Donna very kindly treated us to dinner. I was chuffed that Donna was here and part of the win.

I had a yummy, faceless, veggie burger for dinner while John ordered a meal that stared at me the whole time he was eating it, plus I could see its teeth. Donna had a more traditional meal of roast beef, mashed potatoes, veggies, and yorkshire pudding.

After dinner, we celebrated our quiz win with a dish of  blackberry cobbler that was topped with Cornish ice cream. Donna and I stayed up late again talking, changing subjects quickly as we tried to cover more topics than we had time to do properly.

The Final Day:

This morning we were all up early as Donna had an 8:06 train to catch back to London. Donna was very much like her blog persona which I find reassuring in a way. I tend to think people are who they say they are which can be a bit naïve, but I’ve been lucky when it comes to meeting blogging buddies who really are as they appear to be online when we meet face to face.

42 hours with Donna was as fast paced as an episode of The West Wing, mixed with the energy of newspaper office full of journalists, much like those I’ve seen in the movies listed on this Top 10 Newspaper Movies list.

Do have a quick look so you’ll know what I mean. Not surprisingly, some of the very movies I had in mind were on the list. Donna’s career as a journalist was very apparent in our conversations and her sense of humor, and John and I both enjoyed her visit.

We talked a great deal about writing as you might imagine and she was kind enough to share some helpful tips along with answering my questions on editing and publishing.

I began this post after she left this morning, but partway through decided to take a quick nap. Clearly my subconscious was prodding me to finish it because while I was sleeping, I woke from a dream hearing Donna offering an editorial suggestion to the piece I was supposed to be working on instead of lazing around in bed.

I’m sure it came from observing her writing discipline while she was here and it did not go unnoticed that she was able to meet her deadlines while still having fun.

Walking into Port Isaac

Another view on the path to Port Isaac, but looking back in the opposite direction.

The harbor in Port Isaac with the old school on the hill in the distance.

This is St Breward Church where Donna had an opportunity to ring the bells.

While Donna is not in this blurry shot of some bell ringers in action, I do have some video of her learning how to control the rope.

In the shot above, you can see the two tiny figures of John and Donna off the left of the image about half way down in this photograph of Boscastle. (click twice to enlarge)

I’ve never noticed Rosemary with blooms and snapped this as John walked into my shot.

I love this photo of John near the harbor entrance at Boscastle.

Winchurch Family - Boscastle 1930

After John saw today’s blog post, he gave me this photo that his dad took 80 years ago when he was 16 on a family outing at Boscastle. I had to add it so it could be seen with the photo of John that I took yesterday.

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42 Hours To Share What I Love About Cornwall Life

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We’ve got a visitor arriving by train in a few minutes. It’s Donna Freedman, who until now has been known only to me through her blogging here and her column at MSN Money.

Lest you think she’s a total stranger aside from being blogging buddies, Donna used to work as a journalist at the Anchorage Daily News with my brother-in-law, Leon. She has an interesting history and writes about how to live well on less.

She’ll be pleased to know that the flowers in her room are from the garden and the blackberries I’ll be using in a cobbler tomorrow, are frozen from the fifteen pounds of berries I picked last summer after reading about how she freezes them for winter use.

With only 42 hours, we’ll be moving pretty quickly. I have no idea what she’d like to see as she has left that up to us. We still have a few normal commitments during those 42 hours, such as a funeral service for our neighbor, but I figure we can leave her in downtown Bodmin for an hour to explore some of my favorite charity shops or she might want to stay home and write.

She’s posting about her frugal travel experience some of which includes staying in hostels in London. Having stayed a few hostels myself, I think she’ll find our guest room a nice alternative.

 

 

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Nobly And Faithfully, She Did Her Duty

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Bessie, wife of  J.H. Henderson, was a woman it seems with little history other than this beautiful tribute given in her memory at St Mary’s Church in Tenby, Wales. Like many places of worship in the UK, there has been a church at this location in some form as far back as Norman times although the oldest part of this structure is only as old as the 13th century.

You may laugh when I tell you that I spent at least six hours trying to discover more about the woman who inspired the memorial above. I wanted to know what type of duty she did, ‘ Nobly, and Faithfully.’

I was disappointed to find little information about her, right down to not being 100 percent sure I’d discovered her true given name. I found evidence of a son who died at 38 in wartime France in 1917, but as hard as I searched I could not find much more than that.

I’m usually very good at this type of detective work and while I located loads of family, Bessie, Betsey A, or Betsy, never seemed to be around at census time and with no marriage license it was hard for me to confirm some of what I found.

She showed up in documents twice during her childhood, but only once during her adult years and even then, she was with her in-laws on the day of the census. While her plaque identifies her as Bessie of Red House, in the two census reports that occurred during the time she and her husband were living at Red House, only John Henderson, her husband, made the census report.

All of the dead ends today made me think about what someone might be able to discover about me 92 years from now. I think I’ve made it pretty easy having written and published 470 posts (a combination of this blog site and my first GOTJ) so even if I don’t get to say everything I’d like to before I die, I will have left enough for someone to have a pretty good idea who I actually was in this life.

While standing close to the memorial, I snapped a few photos quietly, respectfully, and without flash, just like I always do when I’m visiting a church and then I snuck the two pictures you see here. I never moved from my location and was a fair distance away so I don’t think woman I was trying to photograph noticed me at all.

I didn’t linger after taking the photo as I didn’t want to disturb her, but I wondered then as I still do now, who she might be remembering with her candle.

Nobly And Faithfully, She did Her Duty

How about you … do you have any idea of how you might want to be remembered ?

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Riding The Memory Train To Destinations You Can’t Forget

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I am ten and sitting quietly having learned the reality of the physical threat implied in my stepfather’s words that, ” Children should be seen and not heard. ” Safe for the moment and out of reach of the driver, I choose my side of the car because I have learned that although my mother’s hands are capable of causing physical pain, they are attached to arms too short to reach me if I stay pressed close to the door.

My sister claims her regular space on the right side of the backseat in the only car we own and I am surprised when my mother turns slightly and reaches back from the passenger seat to give me a paperback copy of a book I will come to treasure. Setting out on a long car trip once again, moving as we have so many times before, it doesn’t take more than a page or two for me to disappear into Judy’s Journey, a story published in 1947 that reveals what it’s like to be ten year-old Judy, the daughter of a migrant farm worker.

Some books stay with you all your life and even if you no longer have the book in your hand, the story never leaves you. I saved my copy of Judy’s Journey after our move from California when I was partway through my fifth year of school. Back home again in Georgia where I’d been born, I found myself confused by many of my subjects as the American school curriculum varied from the east to west coast.

While I may have struggled through some of my classes, I excelled at reading and lost myself in the school library and books wherever I could find them. Beaten into silent submission at home through both psychological and physical blows, I longed for the safety of someone else’s life and found them in books about other children.

My mother came from a family of readers and writers, and books were always among the gifts I received from my extended family on birthdays and at Christmas. I had acquired a good number of them by the time I was able to escape from my mother’s house at fourteen when I made my last childhood move into safety of my dad and stepmother’s home.

My mother would not allow me to take my books and they were left behind with my childhood things after she decided that I could only take my clothing and gifts that my father had given me.

I remember how sad I felt seeing my fourteen years of living packed into only two or three boxes when they arrived by bus a few weeks later.

My books from childhood were marked as mine by my name written in varying degrees of penmanship. Some had Elizabeth in the adult script of my grandparents and great-aunt, while others were identified by a more childish scrawl and dated from when I first began to write my name.

With two sisters still with my mother, my books bypassed my sister Margaret who at twelve was too old to be interested in many of them and went straight into the hands of my four-year old sister Pam who later claimed them completely by scratching through my name and adding her own. It would be many years before I saw my mother, my sisters, or my books again.

Judy’s Journey disappeared somewhere along the way like many other things from my past, but the memory of the story made me talk about it at times and one Christmas, I found a used copy under the tree, a gift from a friend who understood its significance.

I didn’t begin this post to write about this topic. I’d intended to carry on from yesterday’s post about books and libraries before it took off in its own direction. Memories are like a train with multiple destinations and today’s post is an example of all the directions one story can go especially when writing about it.

John came into my studio space about a week ago and said that he thought I needed to write my story. I told him that memoirs were filling the shelves of bookstores everywhere and people were beginning to write disparaging reviews about those who spilled their secrets in a book for all to see. I added that there were many stories out there like mine and why add one more to the mix. I said I was bored with it most days and imagined others might be as well.

I went on to say that there were parts he did not know and more still that the people involved might not want shared, but he reminded me that it is my story and said quietly that he thought it would be good for me, and to think first about myself in the writing process and not worry about the rest.

Yesterday, I was reading what this gifted writer said here about how writing heals and intellectually I know she’s right. I’m sure John is on to something as well, knowing me as he does.

It’s always bothered me seeing my name replaced in books that had been mine, so much so that I don’t have those books with me anymore. I offered them to my daughter in case she has children one day, although she might rather have new books than those with such a sad history. I mean really, how would she explain that to her children …

I wondered what my sister Pam thought as she was too young to remember me when I left. Did they bother to explain the name already in the books or did they say, ” Just scratch it out and put your own in there.”

I thought about what my sister Margaret said about how they never said my name in the house after I left, how my mother and stepfather if pressed by situation would only refer to me as, ” The one who left,” which made me sad on earlier reflection, but now feels more like the name you might give warrior who was brave enough to leave on a vision quest.

As to healing through writing my story, I thought I had done most of that by talking with two remarkable women I’ve mentioned before, but perhaps writing my story rather than telling it might be a good next step whether anyone ever reads it but me.

Time now for she who has been called, ” The One Who Left ” to go out for some sunshine and exercise. Having worked on the past a good bit today, it’s time now to work on my body.

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The Write About Love Project

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Last September, the universe sent me a message.

Written on a gravestone in a Paris cemetery,

were three little words for me to figure out.

If you’d like to see what I came up with,

click on the link below

and go to

‘ The Write About Love Project ‘

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Making It My Business

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For longer than I want to admit, at least one or more of the books above have had a place on my bookshelf. Despite having good intentions for years, everything else has always been more of a priority. Until now.

I’m hoping that some of what I write this year will find a home thanks to the content and directions found in these books. I’m writing each day treating it like it’s my work because finally, after years of scribbling unfinished stories, I’m making it my business.

Thanks to everyone who left a kind message of support and celebration on my last post. Completing my first short story and getting it out by the deadline was a turning point which feels like just a beginning.

Some of you expressed an interest in reading it and asked if I might post the story. I would love to share it, but since I’ve entered it in a competition, I can’t post it here. I am grateful for your interest and hope you’ll be able to see it somewhere soon.

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Entering To Win

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The Postman Cometh

I took this photograph in October of 2009 thinking I might need a photo of the Postie making his rounds to help tell a story one day, and today is that day. As some of you may remember, I picked the word Completion for 2011 and I have been hard at work trying to tick things off my list since we rolled into this new year.

Today, I ticked a box that I had not even planned on and I had to complete it fairly quickly to meet a deadline. Somewhere around the middle of January, I decided to enter a piece in a short story competition here in the UK. I had something that I had worked on a few years ago thinking that it might evolve into something bigger , but had never completed it. So I dusted it off and began to work with it and quickly realized that writing a short story is very different than writing a novel.

Looking at it now, it’s difficult to see more than the roots of the original story and I learned during the process that it is easier to write a new one than try to graft a piece on here and there to make it fit.

I was surprised by what unfolded and how good it felt to see it on its way today when I dropped it into the post box outside our village shop.

I’ll keep you posted (no pun intended) on any feedback I receive, even if it turns out to be nothing more than a thanks for entering. I am going to sleep tonight satisfied that I’ve completed a good first step in creating a work life where things go out the door with an intention and focus on publishing.

You have to send it out to have a chance and mine left about 4:00PM today.

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Steve Jobs And The Future Of Apple

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Child In Apple Store In Paris 2010

Speculation filled the internet with the announcement yesterday that Steve Jobs would be taking another medical leave. Being a long time Apple/Mac fan, I had a normal sense of , ” Oh no, ” for the man before moving into wondering how this might affect the future of Apple. I know it takes a lot of people to tend any garden, but Steve Jobs has long been head gardener in the Apple orchard of ideas and I had to wonder what future harvests might look like if he did not return.

I took the photograph above shooting through the glass into an Apple store in Paris last September when I was there with my sister Margaret. The child on the table intrigued me and I thought immediately that she was likely a future consumer for Apple products and I could not resist taking the shot.

I have long been a fan myself and while I have used a variety of computers in my corporate life, my creative life has been nurtured and supported by Apple since 1993 when I purchased my first computer, a Macintosh TV.

Photo Credit - Vintage Mac Museum

One of only 10,000 made it was pulled from the market after a short while and remains a collector’s item. It was not my smartest computer investment, but being a sentimental sort I still own it.

Although I was already an adult of 33 when I bought my first computer, I still feel as if I grew up with Apple and despite a temporary flirtation with PC’s brought on by my business life, I have been totally faithful since my return in 2004 when I became the owner of iMac G5 which seemed like a Lear jet when compared to my Macintosh TV.

Computers aside, I do hope Steve Jobs is only taking a short break and soon has a return to good health, but truly it’s more for his own sake and the people who love him than concern for the company. Apple has deep roots thanks to Steve Jobs and nothing is likely to change that … at least not for this Mac user.

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Dreams So Real You Want To Shout At Your Sleeping Spouse

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My poor husband John has no idea how close I was this morning to giving an indignant shout of,  ‘ How could you ‘ when I was waking this morning with one foot still firmly in the tight grip of a vivid dream of betrayal. Even though my dream husband was not John and in fact no one I even recognize, the fury and shock I felt in my sleepy state made me pull away from the dear man sleeping next to me.

Being a vivid dreamer is a bonus for writers and I frequently make notes after a busy night especially if it feels like my subconscious has presented me with a little gift of insight or some seed of a story and I searched for the details as I was waking up trying as best I could to commit them to memory.

Last nights journey down the path of marital infidelity seemed like a bit of both insight and story on reflection this morning. Stay with me while I try to explain. Over the last few days, I have been working on a short story that I originally wrote in the third person which according to more than a few folks I’ve read, is not the best way to write one if you hope to have it published.

I do understand the concept of how writing in the first person is designed to be more immediate putting you directly in the middle of things in a way that writing in the third person cannot and why it works well when telling a tale with less words, but I think I usually prefer the options that third person point of view offers. I have seen it done successfully with both the novels and short stories of writers who have managed to publish, but they are all pretty recognizable names and I have to wonder what happens to the rest of us (the unpublished) who may choose another way.

As I have struggled to shift the point of view in my short story rewrite, I have been challenged in a way that I think has provided a good mental exercise regardless of which version I send out the door. In a world where many of us can get bogged down in one-way, right way, my way or the highway kind of thinking, changing my story has begun a subtle shift in my characters as well.

For example, when I woke from my dream and began going over the details imagining how my character (who looked just like me only with a bad eighties hairstyle) might have responded had I not cut the storyline short by waking up, I found myself shifting the dream reaction into a much more interesting and creative outcome.

Granted the point of view was not affected, but in much the same way that I am giving myself the freedom to play with point of view in my current work, it seems to be having a positive effect on my creative process providing me with more options than the typical ones we think of when faced with an all too familiar plot of infidelity and betrayal.

Additionally, while I learned a few more things about staying open to the different perspectives possible for my characters, it was also interesting to note that when my waking body language tried to pull away this morning, I woke to find John’s hand wrapped gently around my wrist as if even in sleep he was saying, ‘ Don’t go.’

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Looking Back At 2010 & One Word-Encourage

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New Year's Eve - December 31, 2009

In January of 2010, I wrote a post where I revealed that my word for that year would be ” Encourage.” You can read why I chose it by clicking on the highlighted word, encourage.

Following the lead of several bloggers I had long admired, I chose a word that I thought might help me be more mindful of those who by word or action had a positive effect on my life or the lives of others.

Whenever the opportunity presented, I included links and names so my readers might also enjoy the gifts that some of the people I noted here brought to my life.

During the year, I never bothered to keep track of how many times I used the word encourage or the category, ” One Word – Encourage.” Looking back earlier today, I discovered 33 posts with stories and links to people who inspired me and in their way provided a bit of encouragement without even knowing it.

As 2010 moves aside for 2011, I wanted to share a link to those 33 posts in case you need a bit a light in your life right now and if there is someone who has been an encouraging presence in your life, please feel free to leave a comment about them below. If it is a place or an experience rather than a person, I hope you will share that with us as well.

Warmest wishes to each of you for a Happy New Year and many thanks for stopping by to read or comment.

33 Posts meant to Encourage:

1) I began the year with a walk in the snow and shared a bit of my neighborhood and the people who live there.

2) John helped me provide a special image for you when I wrote about ” The Dance Of Life.”

3) ” Seeing The Boundary Stones ” was a thank you of sorts for some encouraging comments from my readers when I was feeling kind of blue.

4) Only a few months after taking what would turn out to be our last walk with a dear friend, I wrote about her in ” The Last Walk – Measured Steps.”

5) ” The Light Of Friendship,” does not need an explaination … just thanks.

6) A clear example of how ” Believing Can Make It So.”

7) In ” Reaching For More, “ I encourage you to stop by my friend Mariellen’s place after sharing another one of my stories first.

8 )  ” Hanging On When It Looks Hopeless “ is about a gift I learned from my darling husband John.

9) More words of gratitude for my readers and their kind comments in what followed after a difficult time while “ Cleaning Out The Attic.”

10) This one addresses some heavy mother-daughter stuff and links to a few people in, ” I Get By With A Little Help From My Friends.”

11)  After the death of actress Dixie Carter, I wrote a little something that included a significant woman in my life in ” Dixie Carter – A Strong Southern Woman.”

12)  A joyful story of how a group of women brought about something close to a miracle with hope, hard work, and belief. It is way more uplifting than the title, ” Bringing It to The Masses – No More Twitter Bashing. “

13)  This has to be read … I can’t explain ” When Grief Comes Without Warning “ without crying.

14)  ” A Leaping Ginger Cat Takes Flight “ helped me share a course designed to help creative types become airborne.

15)  I linked outrageously in this post where I gushed about my new blog crush. Penelope Trunk is a woman who continually shocks me with a fair amount of what she has to say and while I don’t always agree with her, I always leave thinking something new.

16)  ” Mister Rogers & Me – A Nantucket Film Festival “ shares the film success of couple of brothers who tell the story of Fred Rogers and his impact on the life of one of the brothers.

17)  I take you on a little ” Walk In The Park With Mariellen Romer “ in this post. It’s a sweet trip about reaching for your dreams.

18) ” Chewing On A Dreamy Idea ” is about inspiration and some of the places it came from for me last year.

19)  Letters from friends and how RSS feeds are like a modern-day mail box are only part of the story in ” RSS Feeds – Like Getting A Letter From A Friend. “

20) I wrote, ” Building A Home One Mouthful At A Time “ while considering how others accomplish difficult tasks.

21)  More special stories and moments from my past in ” Sharing A Story – My Teary Moment With Kenny Loggins. “

22)  I talked a bit more about the process and linked to some inspiration in ” Kelly Rae Roberts – Taking Control With Flying Lessons. “

23) ” Missing The Good Stuff “ has a link you really ought to see.

24)  This post was all about asking for what you want in ” Someone From Evansville Indiana Has The Ability To Change My Life.”

25)  I was a lady in waiting holding my breath here when I wrote, ” No Word From Evansville But Gifts Of Another Kind Instead.”

26)  Remember what I said about asking for what you want … this was a gift of enormous proportions for me as I was able to heal in part a bad memory when my Evansville reader responded to post 24. I shared her message in ” Welcoming Rita From Evansville Indiana.” Thanks again Rita!

27)  A post about being saved as a child and drowning is part of this post in ” When Drowning – Remember – Hope Floats. “

28)  Carolyn and Kim always inspire through their own blogs or by the things they say in comments. I had a chance to meet up with Kim on a trip to Paris and I talk about our meeting and her in ” To Carolyn From Paris. “

29)  In these tough financial times I found Donna Freedman a great person to check in with for consumer tips and she shows up in a Paris post titled ” Shakespeare And Company – Surviving And Thriving. “

30)  This mega cool post is where I make my music video début courtesy of my friend Benjamin Wagner’s ‘Forever Young video.

31) ” Special Delivery – First Giveaway Produces A Winner ” documented my first giveaway when I gifted a copy the music CD ‘ Forever Young’ to one of my readers.

32)  I was grateful for reader support in ” One Step At A Time “ where I talked about receiving a rejection for a job involving writing.

33)  ” Mother Love – Quietly Sharing The Wisdom “ shares a story of how I met a blogging friend in New Zealand and the impact of her words.

Whew! 33 links is a lot of work … I hope you enjoy a look back as much as I did. Feel free to pass all or some of this post on to someone you think might need a little encouragement and I’ll be back with more in 2011.