Good Morning Everyone,
It's that time of year again that I request some Poetry and Essay judges to help out in selecting poems and essays for the Cherokee County High School students.
It is my hope to be able to add "The Learning Center," students this year which covers students in 7, 8, and 9th grades. This school has received many accolades for its academics and I have been assured that the submissions will most likely, be very good. So, if I can get enough judges and get the support of 6 new local businesses, I will proceed with this.
Please let me know ASAP if you would like to participate and at what level. These contests have been very helpful to the students in the past. Not only do they receive Savings Bonds and Certificates of Achievement that may assist them to get into the College of their choice, they also receive recognition from the community, family and peers.
As always Judges will be assigned on a first come, first serve basis.
My sincere appreciation for your support,
Paul
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Monday, January 5, 2009
New Comment Window - Directions to subscribe
You will notice a new comment window when you click on "comments" at the end of a post. This makes commenting much simpler and hopefully will encourage more of our readers to leave comments.
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Click on Post or Comment and at the menu, click on Atom.
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To subscribe to this blog and have new posts and/or comments sent directly to your email, look at the sidebar where it says Subscribe.
Click on Post or Comment and at the menu, click on Atom.
If this doesn't work for you, let us know by email - writerlady21@yahoo.com
Sunday, January 4, 2009
all’s relative
as i sat in a smoke-sated room
pecking out cold-coffee prose
wrenched from 66 re-births
of dog-eared trials & jubilations
low & be-hold
jehovah’s chosen-witness
came rapping-tapping at my door
inches beyond
the tightly-locked screen
his swivel-neck craning
high on rarified airs
he-droned on & on
of how his personal save-your
bid him in-ter my door’s yell-owed pain
at first i--small-i pondered ways
to swat this bee ear-buzzing counsel
to one whose glazed-dazed eyes
he just-knew betrayed fallow seed
having tripped some king-domes
where deep-seated junkies fly
no-way could i--small-i
condemn his joyful drug-of-choice
no-way
so sweetly sweetly
(as an old moon-crone will)
i re-leased him still-smiling
his faith in full-flight
confidant the deity
would answer all of his-prayers
& dark-ilks would never crush
his lust for truth-&-right
...as for-me...
other cravings beck-on
be-still my-will be-still
Pat
written 12-13-08--blame it on the full moon--
Thought it might be a good/fun time to post some dyslexic poetry.
Wishing you all a Great 2009!!!
pecking out cold-coffee prose
wrenched from 66 re-births
of dog-eared trials & jubilations
low & be-hold
jehovah’s chosen-witness
came rapping-tapping at my door
inches beyond
the tightly-locked screen
his swivel-neck craning
high on rarified airs
he-droned on & on
of how his personal save-your
bid him in-ter my door’s yell-owed pain
at first i--small-i pondered ways
to swat this bee ear-buzzing counsel
to one whose glazed-dazed eyes
he just-knew betrayed fallow seed
having tripped some king-domes
where deep-seated junkies fly
no-way could i--small-i
condemn his joyful drug-of-choice
no-way
so sweetly sweetly
(as an old moon-crone will)
i re-leased him still-smiling
his faith in full-flight
confidant the deity
would answer all of his-prayers
& dark-ilks would never crush
his lust for truth-&-right
...as for-me...
other cravings beck-on
be-still my-will be-still
Pat
written 12-13-08--blame it on the full moon--
Thought it might be a good/fun time to post some dyslexic poetry.
Wishing you all a Great 2009!!!
Friday, January 2, 2009
Peg Russell's Favorite websites for Writers
Peg Russell of Murphy, NC is a writer I often turn to when I need information found on the web. At my request she sent a list of some of her favortie sites for writers and some for general interest.
GOOD ONES
http://gcwriters.org/ site has contests, conferences, places to publish, etc. (Gulf Coast Writers. org)
database search for publishers of poetry, short stories, novels
free newsletter with articles and poetry markets
free newsletter, too many ads, but good market info
where to check out scams, slow payers, etc.
MORE INFORMAL
http:// http://www.fundsforwriters.com/
free newsletter, too many, but good market info, too chatty
free newsletter, Angela Booth sells her stuff, but
advice articles are light, good to review advice
TWO NON-WRITER SPECIFIC GOOD SITES
free newsletter, not a writer newsletter, but fascinating information about plants in history, folk beliefs, etc. General information
http://http://http//www.crimelabproject.com/ free newsletter about current forensic news in USA and abroad
Thanks, Peg
If any writers who read this blog would like to share some of your favorite sites for writers, please send them to writerlady21@yahoo.com
On subject line write: good sites for writers
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Netwest Call for Submissions for Anthology
NORTH CAROLINA WRITERS NETWORK WEST ANTHOLOGY
CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS
North Carolina Writers Network West is seeking the best short stories, essays, and poems by writers in the Netwest region. Our Goal is to collect the best writing and to introduce our writers to readers in the mountains and beyond.
Eligible Writers: Must live in and have a mailing address in
· N.C. Counties: Cherokee, Clay, Graham, Haywood, Henderson, Jackson, Macon, Swain, or Transylvania.
· Georgia Counties: Fannin, Rabun, Towns, or Union.
· South Carolina Counties: Greenville or Pickens.
· Tennessee Counties: Blount or Polk.
Submission is open to NCWN members and non-members in these counties.
Theme: Stories, Essays, and Poems by Writers Living in or Inspired by the Southern Appalachian Mountains. While we hope the work submitted will give a feeling and flavor of the mountains, please submit your best work regardless of the subject matter.
GUIDELINES: Submission can be an excerpt from your previously published book. It can have been published in a print or web magazine, if you own the copyright. It can not have been previously published in an anthology.
· Enter one category only. Mark your envelope: Fiction, Non-Fiction, or Poetry.
· Identify your work. This is not a contest, therefore, no blind judging.
· To help with record keeping, please send a cover sheet with your contact info, and a 50 word bio.
For Fiction and Nonfiction send one or two stories or essays in 12 point type, double spaced. Combined limit total 3,000 words. On first page of manuscript write your name and contact information and the Word Count. On last page of manuscript, write name of publication if previously published.
For Poetry send one - three poems in 12 point type, single spaced. 40 line limit including title and stanza breaks. Put your name and the number of lines at the top of each page.
At the bottom of each poem, please write name of publication if previously published.
You will be notified if your work has been accepted. Send a SASE for the editor’s decision.
Do not send your only copy. Manuscripts will not be returned. If accepted, manuscripts must be submitted on a CD as a Word Document in Times New Roman.
Everyone who submits will receive a copy of the anthology
DEADLINE: Your submission must be postmarked during December 2008, January or February, 2009. Enclose Reading Fee: $10.00 Members. $18.00 non members.
Make check payable to NCWN West. Mail to Nancy Simpson, Editor,
472 Old Cherry Mtn. Trail, Hayesville, NC 28904
CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS
North Carolina Writers Network West is seeking the best short stories, essays, and poems by writers in the Netwest region. Our Goal is to collect the best writing and to introduce our writers to readers in the mountains and beyond.
Eligible Writers: Must live in and have a mailing address in
· N.C. Counties: Cherokee, Clay, Graham, Haywood, Henderson, Jackson, Macon, Swain, or Transylvania.
· Georgia Counties: Fannin, Rabun, Towns, or Union.
· South Carolina Counties: Greenville or Pickens.
· Tennessee Counties: Blount or Polk.
Submission is open to NCWN members and non-members in these counties.
Theme: Stories, Essays, and Poems by Writers Living in or Inspired by the Southern Appalachian Mountains. While we hope the work submitted will give a feeling and flavor of the mountains, please submit your best work regardless of the subject matter.
GUIDELINES: Submission can be an excerpt from your previously published book. It can have been published in a print or web magazine, if you own the copyright. It can not have been previously published in an anthology.
· Enter one category only. Mark your envelope: Fiction, Non-Fiction, or Poetry.
· Identify your work. This is not a contest, therefore, no blind judging.
· To help with record keeping, please send a cover sheet with your contact info, and a 50 word bio.
For Fiction and Nonfiction send one or two stories or essays in 12 point type, double spaced. Combined limit total 3,000 words. On first page of manuscript write your name and contact information and the Word Count. On last page of manuscript, write name of publication if previously published.
For Poetry send one - three poems in 12 point type, single spaced. 40 line limit including title and stanza breaks. Put your name and the number of lines at the top of each page.
At the bottom of each poem, please write name of publication if previously published.
You will be notified if your work has been accepted. Send a SASE for the editor’s decision.
Do not send your only copy. Manuscripts will not be returned. If accepted, manuscripts must be submitted on a CD as a Word Document in Times New Roman.
Everyone who submits will receive a copy of the anthology
DEADLINE: Your submission must be postmarked during December 2008, January or February, 2009. Enclose Reading Fee: $10.00 Members. $18.00 non members.
Make check payable to NCWN West. Mail to Nancy Simpson, Editor,
472 Old Cherry Mtn. Trail, Hayesville, NC 28904
Book of Days - A Chapbook by Scott Owens
I think poems from Scott Owens' Book of Days - A chapbook --- are especially appropriate for this day beginning 2009.
"Book of Days," has been published online by The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature..http://www.deadmule.com/poetry/2009/01/scott-owens-book-of-days-a-chapbook/
Poems will be continued in future posts.
January Looks Forward and Back,
Feeds the Stove October’s Wood,
Saves the Ashes for April’s Garden
January wraps trees in sleeves
of ice, coats the ground in frost,
throws its shawl of morning mist
on field and lake and stream.
January plants sage and lavender,
costmary and mint, pulls up fingers
of crocus and daffodil,green
uds of forsythia, rose, spirea.
January’s voice is cold and coarse
–the silver moon, the blue sky,
the gray sky, the absinthe moon,
the empty trees, the trees filled
with cedar waxwings. January
wears out darkness sleeping late,
puts on morning’s half-white face,
speaks of what is bare and necessary.
It is dangerous to know the mind
of January.January is life
and death, the new born from the chest
of the old, half-formed eyes of flowers
forcing their way through tight skin
of limbs, mouths of bulbs tonguing
up through dirt,opening to earth
and sky and air of January.
**
February’s Air of Waiting
February, his feet by a fire,
warms the morning’s chill away,
huddles under horsehair, bearskin,
eats savory, spinach, and sweet
marjoram, cradles a book of days
in his hands,wearily scratches
in plans of days to come. Scratching
in ashes, February stokes the fire,
watches flames the color of day
speak, roar, sing their way
to dying, listens to the thick, sweet
sound of wood burning to skins
of black ash, dry, skinny
sticks, half-dead limbs scratching
against each other, green wood sweating,
snapping, spitting into the fire,
life consumed with eating away
its own body and lighting the days
of February’s interiors. Such days,
kept wrapped in thick skins
of house and cloak, await the sweet
sounds of newborn spring scratching
at windows, sun’s warmth firing
panes to melting, sweeping away
the ground’s cover of ice, sweetening
the air with labor’s harsh perfume. Today
February can only bank the fire,
gather limbs, hang skins
to dry, absently scratch
blades on whetstones, put the tools away.
Outside the world goes winter’s way,
hedges white with malignant sweetness,
limbs full of irritable scratching,wind howling
at the day,earth drinking its icy skin,
trees lit with frostian fire.
Sprout-kale, month-long day of waiting,
sweet season of keeping beneath the skin,
I will scratch my way from your consumptive fire.
**
March with Your Flowers Burning
Just as I had gotten things under
control again, you showed up,
with your head in the clouds,
your eyelids full of rain,
your cuffs of late snow,
your feet tracking mud,
you who refuse to be ruled,
you with your willow’s strand
of pearls, you with your fingers
sucking scilla, daffodil, crocus,
your nostrils stuffed with snot,
your cheeks puffed,
your lips dripping lullabies,
your rainbow-wicked smile,
you with your forsythia switch,
your many-voweled throat, your mind
like black ice, your hands always
open , the slap and plea, the cup
and howl, the easy lure,
the careless jangle of trees.
How could I hope to respond,
my arms grown thin, my eyes
winter-blind, my hands
unaccustomed to such change?
You were the one I dreamed of,
with your mouth full of promises,
your cheeks honey-smeared,
your hands around my balls.
**
Rush of April Coming In
Schizophrenic April rained the ceiling down
pulled up lamb’s ear and fennel columbine and sage
ran the radio outdoors the clouds transforming
the hills running mud my feet slippery wet
on steps sweating thick socks tracking criss
-crossed patterns of brown-yellow earth the architecture
of days sprouting green lines across the sky
running streams of water between brick beside the road
across the yard in widening pools of sunshine dripping
puddles beneath the trees cold fingers raking
the sky white gray blue or black and flowers blooming
anyway April’s cruelest joke not enough to stop
their show of colors only slightly mud-spattered
the way they clean themselves like cats in windows waiting
for mid-month to fling themselves open as mouths
to weather warming with winter’s burning away.
"Book of Days," has been published online by The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature..http://www.deadmule.com/poetry/2009/01/scott-owens-book-of-days-a-chapbook/
Poems will be continued in future posts.
January Looks Forward and Back,
Feeds the Stove October’s Wood,
Saves the Ashes for April’s Garden
January wraps trees in sleeves
of ice, coats the ground in frost,
throws its shawl of morning mist
on field and lake and stream.
January plants sage and lavender,
costmary and mint, pulls up fingers
of crocus and daffodil,green
uds of forsythia, rose, spirea.
January’s voice is cold and coarse
–the silver moon, the blue sky,
the gray sky, the absinthe moon,
the empty trees, the trees filled
with cedar waxwings. January
wears out darkness sleeping late,
puts on morning’s half-white face,
speaks of what is bare and necessary.
It is dangerous to know the mind
of January.January is life
and death, the new born from the chest
of the old, half-formed eyes of flowers
forcing their way through tight skin
of limbs, mouths of bulbs tonguing
up through dirt,opening to earth
and sky and air of January.
**
February’s Air of Waiting
February, his feet by a fire,
warms the morning’s chill away,
huddles under horsehair, bearskin,
eats savory, spinach, and sweet
marjoram, cradles a book of days
in his hands,wearily scratches
in plans of days to come. Scratching
in ashes, February stokes the fire,
watches flames the color of day
speak, roar, sing their way
to dying, listens to the thick, sweet
sound of wood burning to skins
of black ash, dry, skinny
sticks, half-dead limbs scratching
against each other, green wood sweating,
snapping, spitting into the fire,
life consumed with eating away
its own body and lighting the days
of February’s interiors. Such days,
kept wrapped in thick skins
of house and cloak, await the sweet
sounds of newborn spring scratching
at windows, sun’s warmth firing
panes to melting, sweeping away
the ground’s cover of ice, sweetening
the air with labor’s harsh perfume. Today
February can only bank the fire,
gather limbs, hang skins
to dry, absently scratch
blades on whetstones, put the tools away.
Outside the world goes winter’s way,
hedges white with malignant sweetness,
limbs full of irritable scratching,wind howling
at the day,earth drinking its icy skin,
trees lit with frostian fire.
Sprout-kale, month-long day of waiting,
sweet season of keeping beneath the skin,
I will scratch my way from your consumptive fire.
**
March with Your Flowers Burning
Just as I had gotten things under
control again, you showed up,
with your head in the clouds,
your eyelids full of rain,
your cuffs of late snow,
your feet tracking mud,
you who refuse to be ruled,
you with your willow’s strand
of pearls, you with your fingers
sucking scilla, daffodil, crocus,
your nostrils stuffed with snot,
your cheeks puffed,
your lips dripping lullabies,
your rainbow-wicked smile,
you with your forsythia switch,
your many-voweled throat, your mind
like black ice, your hands always
open , the slap and plea, the cup
and howl, the easy lure,
the careless jangle of trees.
How could I hope to respond,
my arms grown thin, my eyes
winter-blind, my hands
unaccustomed to such change?
You were the one I dreamed of,
with your mouth full of promises,
your cheeks honey-smeared,
your hands around my balls.
**
Rush of April Coming In
Schizophrenic April rained the ceiling down
pulled up lamb’s ear and fennel columbine and sage
ran the radio outdoors the clouds transforming
the hills running mud my feet slippery wet
on steps sweating thick socks tracking criss
-crossed patterns of brown-yellow earth the architecture
of days sprouting green lines across the sky
running streams of water between brick beside the road
across the yard in widening pools of sunshine dripping
puddles beneath the trees cold fingers raking
the sky white gray blue or black and flowers blooming
anyway April’s cruelest joke not enough to stop
their show of colors only slightly mud-spattered
the way they clean themselves like cats in windows waiting
for mid-month to fling themselves open as mouths
to weather warming with winter’s burning away.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
LIGHT AND LANGUAGE, from "Language Matters" for December
Light and Language
When I was a studying Spanish in college, I traveled to Mexico for summer school at the university in Saltillo. Before my departure I dreamed one night about an animal leading me into a labyrinth. When we reached the center, I saw that the beckoning animal was a jaguar holding a heart in his paw. I later learned that the jaguar is sacred to the Mayans, and I took this dream as a good sign, because the darkness was filled with pulsing light from the jaguar’s presence.
On one of our trips into the Mexican countryside, my classmates and I encountered a woman who wanted us to take her picture. The day was overcast and she kept asking, Hay bastante luz?
Is there enough light? That question resonates still in my imagination, the way light enters into so much of what we long for and speak about at this time of year.
I remembered the woman’s question when my four-month-old daughter sat in her baby seat before our large living-room windows, conducting the morning light with her hands and singing back to it. The rest of the day, it seemed to me there was never enough light, especially when her colic returned, and instead of singing, she cried.
One of our state’s most renowned poets, Betty Adcock, has written a poem entitled “Word-Game.” It begins with these lines: “A child watching a moonrise/ might play a game of saying,/ might hold the word moon in his mouth/and push it out over and over.” In lines that could serve as the motif for this season, the poem concludes:
In a net of sound like the body’s
own singing web, a child
will be rising
with light for a language.
In the Christian tradition, the Word is the light of the world. Likewise, each word brings its own particular revelation, regardless of the language in which it is spoken: Spanish, French, Vietnamese, Cherokee, Lakota Sioux. Some politicians clamor for a law decreeing English the official language of the United States, but nothing will be able to stop the words that rise up from the languages of the people.
So this Christmas I wish you in Hindi Krismas ki subhkamna, in Arabic miilaad majiidas, and in Cherokee Danistayohihv, along with the more familiar feliz Navidad and joyeux Noël, and Fröhliche Weihnachten. Each expression casts a slightly different light on the season it celebrates, much the way the lightcatcher hanging in my bedroom will soon begin to gather the winter light and spread its spectrum around my walls. The poet Elizabeth Bishop called these lights “rainbow-birds,” but my daughter and I called them “rainbow fish,” because her astrological sign is Pisces, and I thought of her then as my little fish: ma petite poisson. These rainbows remind me that what looks like a beam of light is really composed of many colors—that light is both particle and wave. What we call reality is really the many manifestations of light, and our words capture that reality in their multifaceted sounds and meanings.
~ Kathryn Stripling Byer
When I was a studying Spanish in college, I traveled to Mexico for summer school at the university in Saltillo. Before my departure I dreamed one night about an animal leading me into a labyrinth. When we reached the center, I saw that the beckoning animal was a jaguar holding a heart in his paw. I later learned that the jaguar is sacred to the Mayans, and I took this dream as a good sign, because the darkness was filled with pulsing light from the jaguar’s presence.
On one of our trips into the Mexican countryside, my classmates and I encountered a woman who wanted us to take her picture. The day was overcast and she kept asking, Hay bastante luz?
Is there enough light? That question resonates still in my imagination, the way light enters into so much of what we long for and speak about at this time of year.
I remembered the woman’s question when my four-month-old daughter sat in her baby seat before our large living-room windows, conducting the morning light with her hands and singing back to it. The rest of the day, it seemed to me there was never enough light, especially when her colic returned, and instead of singing, she cried.
One of our state’s most renowned poets, Betty Adcock, has written a poem entitled “Word-Game.” It begins with these lines: “A child watching a moonrise/ might play a game of saying,/ might hold the word moon in his mouth/and push it out over and over.” In lines that could serve as the motif for this season, the poem concludes:
In a net of sound like the body’s
own singing web, a child
will be rising
with light for a language.
In the Christian tradition, the Word is the light of the world. Likewise, each word brings its own particular revelation, regardless of the language in which it is spoken: Spanish, French, Vietnamese, Cherokee, Lakota Sioux. Some politicians clamor for a law decreeing English the official language of the United States, but nothing will be able to stop the words that rise up from the languages of the people.
So this Christmas I wish you in Hindi Krismas ki subhkamna, in Arabic miilaad majiidas, and in Cherokee Danistayohihv, along with the more familiar feliz Navidad and joyeux Noël, and Fröhliche Weihnachten. Each expression casts a slightly different light on the season it celebrates, much the way the lightcatcher hanging in my bedroom will soon begin to gather the winter light and spread its spectrum around my walls. The poet Elizabeth Bishop called these lights “rainbow-birds,” but my daughter and I called them “rainbow fish,” because her astrological sign is Pisces, and I thought of her then as my little fish: ma petite poisson. These rainbows remind me that what looks like a beam of light is really composed of many colors—that light is both particle and wave. What we call reality is really the many manifestations of light, and our words capture that reality in their multifaceted sounds and meanings.
~ Kathryn Stripling Byer
Book Signings, Christmas, Dogs and Horses
Carole Thompson, author of the short story, A Bag of Sugar for Paula, at the Book Nook in Blairsville, GA. Her story is included in the anthology Christmas Presence, edited by Celia Miles and Nancy Dillingham.
I awoke early today, Saturday, another rainy day, but delightful day for me. Shirley Uphouse and I had a date to sign books at the Mountain Valley Country Store in Hayesville, NC, a really neat place for animal lovers. Saddles, bridles, halters, and everything needed for horse owners. Dog food, dog toys, dog "clothes", and anything one might want for a beloved dog. Lots of cool clothes, leather, jeweled jackets, boots, and jeans and hats. Just the place to find folks interested in our books.
We sat up our table in a little spot out of the way and not easily seen by incoming customers, but since this was where the owner placed us, we were grateful to be there.
This morning I baked chocolate chip cookies and found an 8x10 photo of Barry riding his horse. My story, An Angel Named Amos, is about him and a very special horse. I placed a holiday plate filled with cookies and the framed photo on the table with my Cup of Comfort for Horse Lovers books.
Shirley brought her book, My Friends, My Dogs, and placed one on an
easel. Her book has an attractive cover with a Keeshond on the front.
Before I could get my books out, two writer friends, Nancy Simpson and Glenda Barrett, appeared to buy copies. I know that neither of them are horse enthusiasts, so I hope they give the books as gifts, (after they read my story). With friends like this who support my writing, I feel extremely blessed. Both of them already had copies of My Friends, My Dogs.
Two ladies approached and said they had seen the article about our book signing in the local newspaper. One lady wanted two copies for two horse loving sisters.
Clay County poet, Brenda Kay Ledford bought a book and stuck around to take a photograph of Shirley and me.
By this time I had forgotten the nasty weather outside. It did not seem to slow the traffic coming into the store. Recently I read that the smell of chocolate increases the desire to shop, so I offered everyone a cookie. A few just followed their noses and ended up at our table.
Since I enjoy meeting and talking with people, I sold two books for Shirley, having to go find her at one point so she could sign one for the lady. I was having fun!
I only had ten copies of Cup of Comfort for Horse Lovers. I sold nine. One I gave away. Lorraine and Chip, owners of the store refused a commission on the books, which was extremely nice of them.
Yesterday, I kept Carole Thompson company while she signed copies of Christmas Presence at the Book Nook in Blairsville, GA. The store quickly sold out and Carole's husband had to go home and bring more books.
Could it be the season? Could it be the books and the subjects of the books? Christmas stories appeal to all of us, and make wonderful gifts.
Shirley's book and the anthology I signed appeal to animal lovers and almost everyone is a dog or cat enthusiast. In our area many are horse people. I met a teenager today who said her family owned twenty horses and three of them belonged to her. She brought her mother over to buy a book.
We have issued a call for submissions for our next NCWN West anthology. When it is published, we want to hold signings in every town in our area. We'll be sure to bake and serve chocolate chip cookies.
We sat up our table in a little spot out of the way and not easily seen by incoming customers, but since this was where the owner placed us, we were grateful to be there.
This morning I baked chocolate chip cookies and found an 8x10 photo of Barry riding his horse. My story, An Angel Named Amos, is about him and a very special horse. I placed a holiday plate filled with cookies and the framed photo on the table with my Cup of Comfort for Horse Lovers books.
Shirley brought her book, My Friends, My Dogs, and placed one on an
easel. Her book has an attractive cover with a Keeshond on the front.
Before I could get my books out, two writer friends, Nancy Simpson and Glenda Barrett, appeared to buy copies. I know that neither of them are horse enthusiasts, so I hope they give the books as gifts, (after they read my story). With friends like this who support my writing, I feel extremely blessed. Both of them already had copies of My Friends, My Dogs.
Two ladies approached and said they had seen the article about our book signing in the local newspaper. One lady wanted two copies for two horse loving sisters.
Clay County poet, Brenda Kay Ledford bought a book and stuck around to take a photograph of Shirley and me.
By this time I had forgotten the nasty weather outside. It did not seem to slow the traffic coming into the store. Recently I read that the smell of chocolate increases the desire to shop, so I offered everyone a cookie. A few just followed their noses and ended up at our table.
Since I enjoy meeting and talking with people, I sold two books for Shirley, having to go find her at one point so she could sign one for the lady. I was having fun!
I only had ten copies of Cup of Comfort for Horse Lovers. I sold nine. One I gave away. Lorraine and Chip, owners of the store refused a commission on the books, which was extremely nice of them.
Yesterday, I kept Carole Thompson company while she signed copies of Christmas Presence at the Book Nook in Blairsville, GA. The store quickly sold out and Carole's husband had to go home and bring more books.
Could it be the season? Could it be the books and the subjects of the books? Christmas stories appeal to all of us, and make wonderful gifts.
Shirley's book and the anthology I signed appeal to animal lovers and almost everyone is a dog or cat enthusiast. In our area many are horse people. I met a teenager today who said her family owned twenty horses and three of them belonged to her. She brought her mother over to buy a book.
We have issued a call for submissions for our next NCWN West anthology. When it is published, we want to hold signings in every town in our area. We'll be sure to bake and serve chocolate chip cookies.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Writers, these questions and comments are interesting
http://kathrynmagendie.spaces.live.com/blog/cns!
Read Kat's post and the many comments on why and how people buy books and what they think of book signings.
Read Kat's post and the many comments on why and how people buy books and what they think of book signings.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
HAYESVILLE NC, BOOK SIGNING AT THE MOUNTAIN VALLEY COUNTRY STORE
The Mountain Valley Country 
Store, route 69, Hayesville, NC will hold their Christmas Extravaganza on Saturday December 20.
Store, route 69, Hayesville, NC will hold their Christmas Extravaganza on Saturday December 20. Shirley Uphouse will be signing her book My Dogs My Friends starting around noon.
Glenda Beall will be signing copies of the anthology, Cup of Comfort for Horse Lovers edited by Colleen Sell and published by Adams Media.
This book is filled with stories that celebrate the extraordinary relationship between horse and rider.
Both books make great last minute gifts for animal lovers.
The store has a great selection of items for dogs -- toys, leads, bones and of course, food.
Horse enthusiasts will find jeans, boots, hats, saddles, bridles and grooming tools here.
Saturday, December 20th is the annual Mountain Valley Country Store Christmas Extravaganza! THE EVENT MASTER, Gary St. Pierre, with his all new Christmas Show. The store will be open late with STORE WIDE SAVINGS -- food and refreshments from 4 until 8. Register now for a $500 Shopping Spree to be given away at 7:00 pm. You must be present to win !!!
Shirley and Glenda invite anyone in the Clay and Cherokee area of NC and the folks in north Georgia to come by.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Poems and Stories of Christmas at Moss Library in Hayesville
L. Glenda BarrettR. 
Brenda Kay Ledford
C. Shirley Uphouse
Brenda Kay LedfordC. Shirley Uphouse
Three Netwest members will read at the annual night of poems and stories of Christmas at the Moss Memorial Library in Hayesville, NC, Thursday evening, December 18, 7:00 PM.
Shirley Uphouse of Marble, NC, Glenda Barrett of Hiawassee, Georgia and Brenda Kay Ledford of Hayesville will share their memories and stories of the holiday season.
The event is sponsored by Friends of the Library and Netwest.
Brenda Kay Ledford is one of the authors in the new anthology, Christmas Presence, published by Catawba Publishing. Brenda Kay, a poet and writer with two poetry books, Shew Bird Mountain and Sacred Fire, recently published by Finishing Line Press has been published in numerous magazines and literary journals such as Pembroke Magazine, Asheville Poetry Review, Main Street Rag, Appalachian Heritage, and Our State Magazine. Her first poetry chapbook, Patchwork Memories, received the 2005 Paul Green Multimedia Award from North Carolina Society of Historians.
Glenda Barrett's poetry chapbook, When the Sap Rises, was published earlier this year by Finishing Line Press. Her poems and stories have been widely published in magazines such as Woman's World, Yesterday's Gazette, and most recently accepted for the Journal of Kentucky Studies. Her story, The French Harp, one of the holiday stories in the anthology Christmas Presence, has been reprinted in The Georgia Magazine.
Shirley Uphouse, past Program Coordinator for Netwest, is author of a memoir, My Friends, My Dogs, and her work is widely published in magazines such as Dog Fancy, Smoky Mountain Living and others. One of the stories in her memoir can be read online in The Show Ring, http://www.blogger.com/. Shirley has been a professional dog show judge for over 25 years.
This event is a warm and inviting way to start the season each year. The audience gets involved by reading their own original poems and stories. While enjoying a table laden with a variety of refreshments served by Moss Library staff, attendees enjoy socializing with the writers and others from the community. Bring something to read or come and listen. Authors will be happy to sign their books.
The event is sponsored by Friends of the Library and Netwest.
Brenda Kay Ledford is one of the authors in the new anthology, Christmas Presence, published by Catawba Publishing. Brenda Kay, a poet and writer with two poetry books, Shew Bird Mountain and Sacred Fire, recently published by Finishing Line Press has been published in numerous magazines and literary journals such as Pembroke Magazine, Asheville Poetry Review, Main Street Rag, Appalachian Heritage, and Our State Magazine. Her first poetry chapbook, Patchwork Memories, received the 2005 Paul Green Multimedia Award from North Carolina Society of Historians.
Glenda Barrett's poetry chapbook, When the Sap Rises, was published earlier this year by Finishing Line Press. Her poems and stories have been widely published in magazines such as Woman's World, Yesterday's Gazette, and most recently accepted for the Journal of Kentucky Studies. Her story, The French Harp, one of the holiday stories in the anthology Christmas Presence, has been reprinted in The Georgia Magazine.
Shirley Uphouse, past Program Coordinator for Netwest, is author of a memoir, My Friends, My Dogs, and her work is widely published in magazines such as Dog Fancy, Smoky Mountain Living and others. One of the stories in her memoir can be read online in The Show Ring, http://www.blogger.com/. Shirley has been a professional dog show judge for over 25 years.
This event is a warm and inviting way to start the season each year. The audience gets involved by reading their own original poems and stories. While enjoying a table laden with a variety of refreshments served by Moss Library staff, attendees enjoy socializing with the writers and others from the community. Bring something to read or come and listen. Authors will be happy to sign their books.
FULL MOON, by Kathryn S. Byer
FULL MOON
Full moon says look I am
over the pinebreak, says give me
your empty glass, pour
all you want, drink, look
out through your windows of ice,
through the eyes of your needles
observe how I climb, lay aside
what you weave on your looms
and see clouds fall away
like cold silk from your shoulders,
be quiet, hear the owl coming back
to the hayloft, shake loose
your long braids and rise up
from your beds, open
windows and curtains, let light
pour like water upon your heads,
all of you women who wait, raise
the shades, throw the shutters
wide, lean from your window ledge
into the great night that beckons
you, smile back at me
and so quietly nobody can hear you
but you, whisper, "Here am I."
by Kathryn Stripling Byer, from BLACK SHAWL, LSU PRESS, '98
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Dresses, Dreams, and Beadwood Leaves, by Julia Taylor Ebel
Softcover: $8.95 (ISBN 978-1-932158-85-4)
Published by High Country Publishers/Ingalls Publishing Group
Publication date: January 2009
Available from Ingalls Publishing Group
828) 297-7127
sales@ingallspublishinggroup.com
www.ingallspublishinggroup.com
(Julia Ebel)
Julia Taylor Ebel celebrates nature, heritage and cultural history through stories and poetry. Her books include Orville Hicks: Mountain Stories, Mountain Roots; Addie Clawson: Appalachian Mail Carrier; Walking Ribbon, and most recently, Dresses, Dreams and Beadwood Leaves. The earlier three received North Carolina Society of Historians book awards. Over 50 of her nature poems are published in children’s magazines. Julia leads programs and workshops on keeping stories and on poetry. She lives in Jamestown, North Carolina, but a part of her heart is in the North Carolina mountains, where she finds inspiration for much of her writing.
_____________________________
Rosa May wears dresses made from feed sacks, but her earthy knowledge of roots and herbs gives her hope of owning a store-bought dress and feeds her dream of wearing nurse’s white. Dresses, Dreams and Beadwood Leaves sets a girl’s journey to mold her own self esteem within the cultural history of the North Carolina mountains in the late 1940s, where root and herb gathering has offered many mountain people a way to meet both needs and dreams.
Dresses, Dreams and Beadwood Leaves includes delicate pencil sketches and end notes on root and herb gathering.
(from website: www.juliaebel.com
This description from Julia Ebel's website is only the beginning of a story told in verse that will entertain and move you. Rosa May works to gather beadwood leavees to make enough money to buy a "store-bought" dress. She learns some important lessons about growing up in the process.
NOT ENOUGH
In August,
roots and herbs
add up
but not enough
to buy a dress
and the shoes I need too.
So I choose.
I open the catalog
to the page
with the red plaid dress.
Mama measures me
and helps me
choose the right size.
“You’re getting to be
a young lady,”
she says.
Mama watches me
address the envelope
to Sears, Roebuck
and lick the stamp.
And she watches me skip
to the mailbox
with my order in hand.
WAITING
One week,
two weeks,
three weeks—
how long will it take
to get my package?
I watch each day
for the mail.
CELEBRATION
Daddy comes in
grinning.
“Got a good price on beans today.
Enough to buy flour,
sugar,
and cocoa powder.”
At supper,
we celebrate
with chocolate gravy
on biscuits.
THE PACKAGE
Just in time—
the package came,
wrapped in brown paper,
but the package held
no plaid dress,
bright as autumn trees.
I’d changed my mind
and ordered shoes
to wear with the dress
Mama and I made,
blue calico
with white buttons,
tucks,
and grosgrain ribbon trim—
prettier than the one
at Mr. Kelsey’s store.
Someday soon
I’ll order
that plaid dress.
Someday
I’ll wear white.
--------------------------
Witch Hazel
Beadwood
Hamamelis virginiana Linnaeus
Witch Hazel is a deciduous native shrub or small tree, growing 20 to 30 feet in height. Leaves are asymmetrical and shallowly lobed, 3 to 5 inches long. Witch Hazel grows commonly in moist, rich hardwood forests of Southern Appalachia, but its habitat extends through most of the eastern United States.
The term “beadwood” comes from the hard bead-like seed capsule. When dry, seeds explode from the capsule.
An extract from Witch Hazel leaves, bark, and twigs has long been used medicinally as a mild astringent.
from ROOT AND HERB GATHERING IN SOUTHERN APPALACHIA
The Mountain Environment
Traditional Home Uses of Roots and Herbs
For centuries, people have used native plants as food sources. People also have eased their pain and soothed illnesses with teas and salves made from roots and herbs. Mountain people knew these herbal remedies. They respected local “herb doctors,” who shared knowledge of plants’ healing powers. As trained doctors and modern medicine became more available in the mid 1900s, people used herbal remedies less.
Gathering
Many Appalachian people learned to recognize the native plants. They spoke of these plants with common names, like beadwood (witch hazel), life plant, and turkey corn. They gathered roots and herbs and passed along knowledge of wild plants to their children. By the age of six or seven, children could help with root and herb gathering.
Mountain people first gathered roots and herbs for personal use. Later, they sold these plant materials. Families bought school clothes and shoes for the children with profits from root and herb gathering. Native plants provided the primary income for some families. Money from the sale of roots and herbs not only bought clothing but also helped pay electrical bills and property taxes.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Excerpt From Turnback Creek by Lonnie Busch
The reflection of the moon shattered when Cole’s lure hit the water. He stared at the rings radiating out, at the moon slowly repairing itself on the black surface. Cole hated fishing on nights like this—when the bass weren’t biting, the stillness so complete it seemed the world had stopped breathing—but night was the only time he had for himself.
Even the unexplainable breeze that always spread a faint ripple across the surface of Turnback Creek was oddly absent. Cole had just cocked his wrist to cast again when he heard a noise deep in the woods, a rumbling mechanical sound like a generator firing, a deep popping followed by a dull continuous thudding. He imagined one of those big Hollywood wind machines, the kind he’d seen on the MGM Studio tour out in California years ago, except that those fans weren’t nearly as noisy as this contraption. This sound brought to mind a bulldozer, but he quickly ruled that out—no one would be crazy enough to drive a bulldozer in the dead of night. Not in the woods.
Using his trolling motor, Cole pointed his bass boat toward the commotion. Halfway across the cove, the noise stopped. Instinctively, he drew his foot from the pedal, as if to match the sudden silence, the boat drifting soundlessly through the darkness. He swept his gaze across the woods along the bank, the trees and foliage forming a black jagged wall. His eyes burned from lack of sleep and his back was sore from lifting Elsie. When the rumbling sprang to life again, he laid his fishing rod down and turned the boat toward the bank.
Even the unexplainable breeze that always spread a faint ripple across the surface of Turnback Creek was oddly absent. Cole had just cocked his wrist to cast again when he heard a noise deep in the woods, a rumbling mechanical sound like a generator firing, a deep popping followed by a dull continuous thudding. He imagined one of those big Hollywood wind machines, the kind he’d seen on the MGM Studio tour out in California years ago, except that those fans weren’t nearly as noisy as this contraption. This sound brought to mind a bulldozer, but he quickly ruled that out—no one would be crazy enough to drive a bulldozer in the dead of night. Not in the woods.
Using his trolling motor, Cole pointed his bass boat toward the commotion. Halfway across the cove, the noise stopped. Instinctively, he drew his foot from the pedal, as if to match the sudden silence, the boat drifting soundlessly through the darkness. He swept his gaze across the woods along the bank, the trees and foliage forming a black jagged wall. His eyes burned from lack of sleep and his back was sore from lifting Elsie. When the rumbling sprang to life again, he laid his fishing rod down and turned the boat toward the bank.
Lonnie Busch is both artist and writer, and designed the cover for his novella, Turnback Creek. His short stories have appeared or are forthcoming in such publications as Southwest Review, The Minnesota Review, The Baltimore Review, The Southeast Review, Roanoke Review, Talking River Review, Flint Hills Review, Willow Review, The Iconoclast, Pisgah Review, MoonShine Review and others. Stories of his have also been finalists in the World’s Best Short Short Story Competition in 2004, The Tobias Wolff Award for Fiction in 2005, and most recently, the Glimmer Train Very Short Fiction Award.
As a painter/illustrator, Busch has created artwork for corporations and institutions across the United States, including the 2002 “Greetings from America” stamps and the 2004 “Summer Olympics” stamp for the US Postal Service.
His most recent projects include the cover for Jimmy Buffett’s novel, A Salty Piece of Land, as well as a block of forty stamps for the Postal Service in May of 2006, entitled, “Wonders of America.” He now makes his home in the mountains of North Carolina.
Question?
Does anyone know how to salvage indentations while posting a Poem on the blog, or other form of work? I have tried different approaches and it continues to align all to the left. I feel proper indentations go a long way in emphasizing a point.
Donovan
Donovan
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