Z is for Zing

Today is the last day of the A to Z Challenge. This year's challenge was really laced with ZING! Zing means a lively, zestful quality; zest, vigor, animation, force, vitality, etc.  Every blogsite I visited had zing.

When I read the definition, I wondered about other things in my life that have ZING so I made a list and thought I'd share with you.

My marriage, my daughter and--believe it or not, after delving into my so-called memoirs, my family.

Sometimes, my cooking--even when it falls flat!

My driving--especially when I'm thinking about writing--just ask my husband.

My pastor, my SS teacher ... wait, my entire church!

My dreams have zing. Just ask my husband!

When we went home this past weekend, I noticed my cactus flower was blooming. Definitely some Zing!

I conclude ... I'm surrounded by ZING!

Now that A to Z Challenge is over, I hope to concentrate on putting more ZING into my writing. More description, visual setting, stronger conflict and characterization ... and ACTIVE verbs.

What have you learned from A to Z -- as a participant or as a reader? Share. How can we put more ZING in our writing and in our lives?

Y is for Yukon

Last year for the A to Z Challenge, Y stood for Yukon, Oklahoma. I blogged about the little town and I'll take the opportunity to blog about it again. After all, we've lived here a year now.

Yukon has been a great place for us. It's small. We can be anywhere in five or ten minutes. We can see Oklahoma City from our apartment complex. I posted last year that Dale Robertson lived here when in fact, he didn't. He did once. Maybe his family still owns land here--I don't know. Our senior citizen center is named after him and his picture is in our library. A few weeks ago, Dale passed away in California. I've spent a year hoping to spot him in grocery stores, coffee shops, libraries when all the time he's been in California.

 I remember watching Wells Fargo with my dad. Rest in peace, Dale.

I drive up and down Garth Brooks Blvd to shop at Hastings, Target and WalMart and go to Jimmy's Egg. On Tuesdays, I drive into Mustang (about five minutes away) and meet a friend at the library. We write from 9 am to 2 pm. We take our lunch and sit in the foyer at a table to eat and visit. I wrote my novella at the Mustang Library. I just received the galleys to proof; you can see my cover at the right. The Mustang Library has great writing vibes.

We attend a wonderful church in Yukon. Discovery Church is the friendliest I've ever attended. Love and laughter oozes from its members. We visited two other churches before we settled there. Sad that one has to shop around for a church--a good fit. Discovery is the only church I've ever attended that I felt people truly liked and cared about us--and not just on Sunday. If I ended up in the hospital, I know without a doubt, people would be praying for me and coming to see me. I've never had the comfort of that thought.

Yukon will be a sweet memory when we move back to Louisiana in June. While we're looking forward to being near our daughter again, being in our home instead of an apartment, Louisiana will be like starting over--searching for a church, getting used to the oppressive weather, settling in ... trying to fit in--once again.

We've moved a number of times in our married life. Yukon became home fast, and we'll miss it.

How often have you moved in your life? Any place you'd like to go back to or regret leaving? How do places you've lived play into your writing?

X is for Xerophilous

While browsing through the dictionary trying to figure out what to write about, I came across the word xerophilous which means capable of thriving in a hot, dry climate. Xerophilous pertains to plants and animals, but it reminded me of my mother. She was always hot. We didn't have central air in our little four room house (2 bedrooms, a living room and a small kitchen. Do we count the bathroom as a real room?) We had window units and they were powerful. I stayed bundled up while Mom sat in a sleeveless house dress.

Of course, by the time I started getting hot, she had the heat blasting during the summer because she was cold.

Funny how we daughters swap places with our mothers. Or become more like them. The other day I told Mom that every time I looked in the mirror, she stared back at me. She thought that was hilarious! She always liked to laugh ... still does.

Did your family play practical jokes? Get tickled in church or the library? Share something super-funny that you remember about your family.

W is for Writing

When I signed up for A to Z Challenge this year, I had no idea what I wanted to write about. I planned to wing it—the way I did last year. But as soon as I sat down to write that first post, my theme became apparent: I'd write about my childhood and my family. I’ve had fun blogging about my loved ones, but I’m ready to move on and talk about writing again. Family Time is growing old and boring for me. And I’m beginning to repeat myself. I don’t like repetition!

So W is for Writing. This is what I’ve been doing alongside A to Z.

I wrote a short story specifically for Woman’s World. This time I got off my ‘duff’ and put it in the mail. I’m waiting … waiting … waiting … just like in the old days. Complete with SASE.  Woman’s World doesn’t take email submissions.

I’m also working on a pitch to a Harlequin editor on May 8^th. This will be sort of like speed dating: I pitch in 100 words or less and they tell me immediately whether they want to see a synopsis, a proposal or the complete novel. I really like this idea. This is the instant gratification thingie working. I’m pretty nervous about it, even though I have the pitch ready. I've been working on the first three chapters of the manuscript just in case the editor requests it. It’s a straight inspirational romance—no mystery or suspense. And I still have to write the synopsis. Arrghh!

My mind is working constantly on other things—revising, re-plotting, wondering if anything is any good. There’s so much I want to revamp. I don’t want to give up on any of my stories—even when I know I should move on to something fresh.

My novella came to me so easily. I wish all my stories came that fast—that complete. They don’t. I struggle.

Tell me about your writing. Do you have anything with an agent or editor? Or do you plan to ePub? Do you like today’s publishing world and how things have changed? Tell us about it.

Here's a market for you just in case you don't have anything to do:

Family Circle Magazine is now accepting submissions for their 2013 Fiction Contest. Submit your previously unpublished short story of no more than 2,500 words by September 16, 2013. There is no fee to enter and you could win the grand prize of $1,000 and publication in the magazine, plus other prizes. For all the details go here.

V is for Victory, Victorious

V is Victory, Victorious.  Normally when I hear the word Victory I burst into song. Really! Just ask my husband and daughter.

O victory in Jesus,
My Savior, forever.
He sought me and bought me
With His redeeming blood;
He loved me ere I knew Him
And all my love is due Him,
He plunged me to victory,
Beneath the cleansing flood.

I love the old hymns—we rarely sing them anymore and I miss them.

We had a victorious trip yesterday. I drove the entire ten hours. I normally do. Hubby can read and nap in a moving vehicle; I can’t because I’ll get car sick, so I drive…and plot. At one point, I heard him talking. I replied, “Say that again, I wasn’t listening—I was blogging.” He gets nervous when I’m lost in writing thoughts while driving.

After six hours on the road, we stopped off to visit my mom. I’m always filled with dread at how she might respond, how she’ll look. Where her mind might be. Another victory! She was alert, smiling and had quick come-backs to our teasing. She enjoyed talking about the past since that’s all she can remember, but even the past is a little hazy. She commented that she sewed a lot for me when I was a kid, made all my clothes. She did. I had “Mom Originals” with shoes to match. Remember, she was a perfectionist. I was often written up in our school newspaper because of what I wore: “Jessica looked like the breath of spring in  her yellow dress with the tiny blue and pink flowers. The yellow t-strap sandals were the perfect accessory.” Or something of the sort.

I asked Mom if she remembered making a bird costume for me, sewing feathers to material. I was glad I had a picture on my iPhone to jog her memory. When I went through her home, I was able to snap pics of other pics so I could email them to myself. I'm second from the right.

Mom also talked about how she used to sit in the car waiting for me to get finished with my piano lessons. Her memory is a little distorted there. Mom never waited on much of anything. She was the original multi-tasker and always wanted to accomplish several things at once. While I struggled with chords and Mrs. Brown the piano teacher, Mom was at the grocery store, or drug store, or running errands for a friend--or all three! I was the one who sat at the curb waiting when my lesson was over.

When we got to Louisiana, we were blessed by a visit from our daughter bearing a mother’s day gift, and we stayed up late talking. I slept until 8:00 a.m. this morning! Sure felt good. We’ll head back to see Mom on Saturday for another walk down memory lane.

What did you do when you were a kid? Take dancing or piano lessons? Play basketball, football or baseball? Write poems or your first novel? How were your parents involved in your young life and activities?

U is for Unsolicited

A quick post today since hubby and I are taking our monthly 10-hour drive to Louisiana. We’ll leave at 6 a.m., stop off for a couple of hours to see my mom, and on our return trip spend the night for a longer visit with her. So forgive me if this post isn’t quite up to par. U stumped me.

But, two incidences came to mind so I thought I’d write about them.

What do you think of when you hear the word unsolicited? If you’re a writer, you probably think of unsolicited manuscripts and how many agents and editors don’t allow them. Or you might think of unsolicited advice.  I’m sure we all receive some now and then. I remember some unsolicited advice that made me proud.

Years ago, my dad had an old red truck. I have no idea what make or model, I just remember it was old and on its last spark plug, so to speak.  Dad put an ad in the classifieds; he wanted to sell it. My hometown is the home of LeTourneau College, now known as LeTourneau University. LETU is a private, interdenominational Christian university with flagship programs in engineering, aeronautical science, education and business. If anyone is interested, check it out. 

Anyway, LeTourneau boys usually didn’t have vehicles. They didn’t have much money either and they always craved home-cooked meals. They came from all over the country, even outside the country to get their degrees, and they came in droves to our churches. The girls went wild over them. I remember looking at the back of our church and cute LeTourneau boys took up two or three pews. (I was too young for a college boy.)

One day, one of them came to our house to look at my dad’s old truck. They did the usual thing—drove it, kicked the tires, looked under the hood, then stood around and talked awhile. Then my dad asked, “Why do you want this old thing?” The young man answered that he wanted to drive it home—to Ohio.   

“Son, this old truck won’t get you to Ohio. You probably won’t make it out of Texas.”  My dad refused to sell him the truck. (Back then you could get away with those things; probably not today. You'd get sued.)

A similar thing happened a few years ago when my husband and I were selling a Dodge Caravan. A man came to the door with cash for the vehicle and hubby explained about transferring the title and advised the man about getting insurance. Our potential buyer said, “I’m not getting insurance.” Guess what—hubby refused to sell him the vehicle.

I was proud of my dad because he looked out for another family’s son. Dad was a good man and he followed The Golden Rule. I was proud of my husband for refusing to sell to an uninsured driver.  Hubby's a good man too. Sometimes those giving unsolicited advice really are looking out for our best interest. 

Can you remember a time when someone gave you unsolicited advice but you didn’t take it and regretted it? Boy, I can!

T is for Time

Time passes so quickly. Sometimes all we’re left with are our memories. I’ve enjoyed this A to Z Challenge because I’ve gone back in time to take another look. While looking back, I’ve wanted to ask my parents, my grandparents specific questions. Too late now. Sure makes me wish I’d kept a journal all my life. I always tried but had no follow-through when it came to journaling. Tape recorders were another matter.

When I was younger, early teens, I think, my most prized possession was a reel to reel tape recorder. I took phrases from records and created advertisements, skits and interviews. I spent hours in my bedroom, creating.  That huge, heavy green tape recorder was the most wonderful Christmas present I’d ever received. And it cost a hundred dollars. At least that’s what my parents told me. I was amazed they would spend that much money on me. I wish I could remember if I asked for it or if they saw it and knew I’d love it. At any rate, eventually, I wore it out and we gave it to ‘the twins’ because they “worked” on things and said they could fix it. Remember the twins from I is for Iva? I never saw that tape recorder again. Today, I have several: three small digital and a couple of cassette ones so yeah, I still have a thing for tape recorders.

Once I recorded my Arkansas grandfather telling his “life” story. He loved to talk and didn’t mind speaking into the microphone. Oddly, I have no pictures of me with my grandparents. That makes me sad—to have pictures of them but not with them.

When I was small, we didn’t travel to grandparent’s homes to celebrate Christmas. My dad’s family lived right across the pasture from us; my mother’s parent’s lived in Arkansas. We visited them once a year—twice at the very most. When my husband and I moved to Louisiana, we made certain our kids saw their grandparents no less than once a month and all holidays. We wanted them to know their grandparents well, have relationships with them, and have their own memories.  

Do you have fond memories of grandparents or did time and distance keep you away from them? If they’re still alive, take the time to talk with them, record their stories, and take pictures.