A Day That Went Right

We've all had those days when everything went wrong. I even recently blogged about one. But today I'd like to tell you about today, a day that went "right." If I'd had my mind on mundane things, these sweet small acts of kindness would probably have flown by unnoticed.

It started this morning with me shuttling my mother to her medical treatment in Paris, Tennessee. After the medical aids wheel her into the room, I have two hours and thirty minutes to waste. Somehow I have yet to be bored. In fact, a few times I've had to rush to get back to pick Mother up on time.

Today, my first stop was Walmart. In the checkout lane, a young lady let me go in front of her, because as she said, "You only have two items, and besides I want to read this gossip tabloid." She added, "I'm really ashamed that I read this stuff, but I just can't help it." I picked up a Southern Living magazine and told her to hide it inside. I laughed when she actually did.

The conversation took off from there. When I told her I was an author, she became excited and announced it to the checkout clerk and everyone else within hearing distance, declaring she'd never actually met a celebrity before, (LOL) "though both Chuck Norris and Hank Williams, Jr. have visited the Paris Walmart store."

Before I left Walmart, I gave the young woman my business card including this blog link and an email addy. I had to laugh at her parting words."The next time I see you, I'll bet the Pavarottzi will be following you around."

I left smiling and feeling on top of the world. The next stop was a Get'n Go. I filled a cup with aromatic coffee and enough liquid French Vanilla creamer to make up for the calories I missed at breakfast. Then I reached into my jeans pocket for change (just to get rid of the nickels, dimes, and quarters). When the clerk and I added it up, I was thirty cents shy. I said, "I hate to do this, but..." I opened my wallet to pull out a dollar when the young man behind me threw two quarters on the counter. "Here's fifty cents. Take it." I explained that I had the money, but he kept insisting and shoved it toward the checkout girl. After shoving it back at him twice, I relented, squeezed his arm, and told him to have a blessed day.

My next stop I bought pet food. When the checkout guy totaled the bill, I reached into my pocket and found myself two cents short on change. Looked like I would have to break a dollar for two pennies. (I spent my pennies at the Get'n'Go.) The checkout guy reached on top of his cash register and tossed two pennies on the counter. "Here you go. Someone threw these up here earlier because they didn't want them."

I thanked him and told him to have a blessed day. By now I'm thinking, "I came out of Walmart feeling like I had a million bucks, and twenty minutes later I've been the recipient of two handouts." LOL. Now I look like a charity case.

But this isn't the end of the story. I shopped for a few items at a large chain supermarket. (I won't mention the name.) When I started opened my wallet, I couldn't find the store's discount card. Without it I would have to pay full price for the sale items I had. The checkout lady tried punching my phone number in the computer, but it didn't take. So she yelled at the woman behind me with an overflowing shopping cart. "Do you mind if this lady up here, uses your card?" The woman responded, "Of course not!" and handed it to the clerk.

Because of her generosity I was able to buy two bottles of calcium for the price of one.

These gestures may not seem like much, but after dwelling on them, they gave me a new perspective. I wondered how many small acts of courtesy we take for granted, daily, just letting them slide by. These kind deeds mean a lot in this age where we often shake our heads and wonder, "What is this world coming to?"

Today I evidenced the generosity of three caring individuals. With all the bad reports we hear on the news, it's hard to see the good in others. But no matter what the news media would have us believe, wonderful, caring folks still live among us.

So, how was your day? I hope you were as blessed as I.

A Poll: What Makes For a Memorable Book and/or Movie?

I have an inquiring mind and would like to know: Have you ever read a book or watched a movie that you just can't get out of your head?

Every writer's dream is to pen a story that will linger in the reader's mind until he/she expires. But, what makes a story or movie memorable? That is the BIG question. Give us your opinion.

Will you share that memorable book and/or movie title with readers and tell us why you think it (or they) should make it...or "did make" it to the top?

Please post a comment. This should prove interesting.

Musings For A New Year

Hello, Dear Friends. What does the New Year mean to you? Sweeping out the old and scooping in the new? Time to re-set goals for the next twelve months? Maybe, it's a season of re-evaluation, a time to pause and contemplate on what you value most or where you will expend your time and energy in 2011.

As a writer, all these questions have threatened to obstruct my muse since January 1. So please, bear with me in hopes that writing down these concerns will help release them.

What do I REALLY want? This should be, "What does God want me to do?" Do my desires coincide with His plan for my life? Do I trust Him enough to believe He wants only the best for me?

You've probably heard the saying, "If you want to see God laugh, make plans." Or, "The best-laid plans of mice and men..." How many times has this proven true? We plan our day/week, satisfied we have everything under control. Then, out of the blue something "throws a cog in the wheel." A family member falls sick, a friend needs your emotional support, or an unexpected emergency raises its ugly head.

My burning desire? To write and publish stories that will not only inspire the reader, but bring laughter along with emotional healing. In the midst of serious soul-searching and a disturbing lack of focus, I ask, "Where do I go from here?" Will an ongoing hermetic lifestyle make me neglect those who love and need me?

Balance is the keyword, but not easy to obtain. My "all or nothing" personality becomes absorbed in creating plots and characters--sometimes to the exclusion of everything around me. Like a woman possessed, I write on and on, fearing the muse will escape flee me if I stop to breathe.

I will strive for balance this year, but will also sail for territory yet unexplored. I have no idea where this journey will take me. But by keeping God at the helm of the ship, no matter how rough the waters, I know I will safely reach the shore.

What are your thoughts, goals, and desires for 2011? Stop and evaluate. Then ask God to guide you every step of the way.

I am so excited! My short story, "Jonquils in the Snow" has been up at Smashwords for 8 days, and I already have 5 great reviews. Thank you! I appreciate all my reviewers and readers.

A little about JONQUILS IN THE SNOW. I wrote the story in 5 days. The words seemed to flow from my pen like honey..even if they were undecipherable to everyone else. Ha!

Blurb:

Miranda Stevens' finance' skipped town two days before the wedding. Two years later she is ready to "let by-gones be by-gones" and move on.

But...Brady Watson's grief over his wife killed by a drunk driver, engulfs him. Three years have passed, but Brady can't...or won't...shake it off.

Can Miranda find the key to release Brady from his grief to embrace a new beginnning? Does a cluster of bright Jonquils bursting through the snow, hold the answer?

Be sure to check out this heartwarming, sweet romance at http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/9341

And thru February 28, 2010, get 30% off just by clicking on "Shopping Cart" and typing in Code PM45D.

Wow! That's 22 pages of exhilarating reading for only $2.30.! Take advantage of the sale while it lasts.

Please write a review...uh...if you like JONQUILS IN THE SNOW. I really appreciate all of you.

Writer's'/Readers' Preference Survey Results

When I asked five simple questions regarding Writers'/Readers' preferences I had no idea what to expect. Needless to say the result held some surprises. We had a good turnout, (21 participants), and you all knew exactly what you liked and didn't like. Even if you answered "both" on a question, you had clear reasons for that answer.

Without further ado, the results of the survey.

1. Do you prefer plenty of conflict in your stories, or would you rather the conflict be toned down?

A. Plenty of conflict won out with (16) votes. B. Some conflict came in with (5) votes.

2. Which do you prefer? contemporary or historical? What time era is your favorite?

A. (Nine) said, "Either contemporary or historical "as long as the historical doesn't read like a history lesson." B. (Eight) voted "mostly historical" C. (Four) stressed "only contemporary

3. Do you prefer strong heros and feminine heroines? Milder men and strong women? Or both hero/heroine about the same in strength?

A. This at (20) votes, came in almost* unanimous for a STRONG hero. None of you wanted a "macho Mr. Tough Guy" who thought he was "God's gift to women," but a man who would fight to the death for his lady.

B. (One) vote came in for a milder man and "take-charge" woman. But the voter explained, the "man should have a character strength "something the woman lacks."

C. (Five) stressed their heroines be feminine and act like ladies. D. (16) stressed their heroines be savvy, smart, independent.

4. Do you find the story more enjoyable--less enjoyable when weaknesses are portrayed in the hero/heroine?

D. (21) voted unanimous for weaknesses in both, though (1) voter stressed "only a small amount" of weakness in protagonists. That's understandable for science fiction. You can't show weakness when you are battling the other world creature.

5. Do you prefer stories that are character-driven? Plot-driven?

A. "Both" got (11) votes B. Plot-driven (7) votes C. Character-driven (3) votes.

Remarks: The preferences for historical eras were as diversified as you participants. I received everything from the Pirates era, Ancient Greece, pre-Civil War period, Civil War period and the Wild West era.

I want to thank everyone for participating. This was enlightening and just plain fun.

The Christmas Grouch

'Twas the night before Christmas and out slipped the Grouch
To search corners and crevices in every house.
Grumbling and whining in each person's ear,
He worked to spoil the season's good cheer.

Devising a scheme in his evil mirth,
He would tear Christmas away from planet earth.
"I'll approach the Creator and plead for permission;
If I win the debate, I'll set off on my mission."

He filed a complaint and prepared his case,
Stated his arguments and started to pace,
Back and forth in front of the Throne,
His raspy voice a wearisome drone.

God granted his request, but it would quickly be stayed
If the Grouch found just one who gave thanks while he prayed.
Smirking and sneering, he left with a nod,
And laughed aloud at how he he'd fooled God.

Not a moment to waste, he sped through each city,
Invading the homes, adorned and so pretty.
He lurked in the shadows and watched as they said,
"It's been a long day, and I must go to bed."

Folks were busy, so much on their minds
That time for the Father was too hard to find.
The Grouch slipped through the houses, delighted, amazed
That no one took time to offer up praise.

Dauntless and smug, he smirked to himself,
"My case has been won, and with so much time left!
One more stop and it will be 'in the bag.'
Then I'll bombard Heaven to gloat and to brag."

At the edge of town on that cold winter's night
A scene through a window caught the Grouch's sight.
He slithered inside and what did he see?
A tiny boy, hands clasped, down on one knee,

Thanking the Father for Jesus' birth--
Praying, "Good will to all men and peace on earth."
When the child whispered, "God bless us everyone,"
The Grouch knew his case would never be won.

In an angry fit he yanked out his hair,
Then stamped out ranting, "It's not fair! It's not fair!"
The Creator smiled down, said, "You don't understand--
Salvation exists because Christmas began."

I longed for each soul to know its true worth
So I sent my Son to this desolate earth.
And because of Jesus, My gift from above,
Christmas is eternal, and so is My love."

A note from Laurean:

I hope you enjoyed this. Don't let "The Christmas Grouch" invade your home this year.

I wrote the above poem in December 2003 after I awoke one morning with the first two stanzas rambling around in my head. As the day lengthened, so did the poem, until by 4 p.m. I had finished it.

I pray that all have a very Merry Christmas, and not forget what the Season is truly about. Slow down and enjoy your family and friends. "God bless You Everyone!"

The Trouble With Oscar (An excerpt from Journey To Forgiveness)

Setting up the Scene:

Oscar Ellwood III is the pampered guy who lives next door to Jenny's aunt. Tall and gangly, wearing coke bottle glasses, he has joined the mission trip. Oscar catches the church bus, enroute to the mission, equipped with binoculars, and clad in bermuda shorts, knee socks, complete with a Panama hat. His goal? To pursue Jenny Hinson, who tries her best to divert his attentions.

Austin Grant throws a cog in the wheel when he walks in on what suspiciously appears to be a romantic scene between Oscar and Jenny.
************

As soon as the truck pulled away, a whining Oscar trudged in to seek minor medical attention. The man had picked up a rough board and swiped it across his jaw. He showed Jenny the splinter embedded in his chin. A tiny piece protruded.

"I tried to remove it," he wailed, "but apparently it broke off when I attempted the delicate procedure."

"Follow me." Jenny gestured and led him to the area where the first aid supplies were shelved. He reached up and pulled down the supplies she requested. Jenny located the tweezers and set the rubbing alcohol and cotton to one side. After disinfecting the tweezers, she attempted to calm the nervous patient. "You sit down on that stool, close your eyes and relax. Think of something pleasant."

She soaked a cotton ball in the alcohol and spoke softly. "Now this may sting a little. Just take a deep breath and bear with me."

"Will it hurt v-ver-y much?" Oscar's voice quivered.

"Nothing a grown man can't handle." She patted his shoulder to reassure him.
It seemed to calm him.

Oscar took a deep breath and croaked, "Okay, Miss Hinson, I am now prepared for surgery."

"Good. Keep taking those deep breaths and hold onto my arms.

The patient did as he was told, and squeezed Jenny's arms. "Not so tight, Oscar."

He loosened his grip slightly. "Now tilt your chin up and look at me."

The trembling patient complied. Jenny planted one hand on his shoulder, and leaned in closer to inspect the angle of the splinter.

She was eye to eye with Oscar when Austin tramped in. "Exactly what is going on here, Ellwood? Remove your hands from her or I will see to it that you don't have hands to grab any other woman!"

Oscar yanked his hands down to cup his knobby knees. Jenny was more pleased than upset with Austin's display of jealousy. But she could not let him get by with insulting her patient.

"Austin, can't you see that I'm treating this man for an embedded splinter?" She thumbed toward the kitchen. "Why don't you just prance yourself right back in there and finish your lunch? We'll be there in a minute."

"Okay. I will." Austin took a deep breath and narrowed his eyes. "But Oscar will keep his hands to himself."

Oscar gripped his knees tighter as if his hands might have a mind all their own. When Austin turned to leave, Jenny shook her head. "Sorry, Oscar. I have no idea what got into him. He's not usually like that."

"Miss Hinson, from my observation, I would say that Mr. Grant is in love."

Jenny smiled as she closed the tweezers around the embedded splinter, and snatched it from Oscar's chin. "Ouch! That hurt!" Oscar shielded his jaw with one hand.

She held up the offending sliver for his inspection. "Got it! Now let's get back to the kitchen before Austin brings Al Capone back with him."

"You won't catch me dawdling," Oscar retorted, and leaped off the stool.

And the Winner of the Scavenger Hunt...

drawn at random from among all the correct answers, (2) is....Rachel Rosanno! Congratulations, Rachel. You will receive a free download of Journey To Forgiveness.

LASR Scavenger Hunt Questions.

1. In The blog post, "An Interview with Austin Grant," what does Austin call Jenny? One word.

2. What does Jenny yell out at Austin after she runs up the train ramp?

The Master of The Wind loves ME!

Hi Fellow Bloggers,

I just left Lucy Kubash's blog. If you have not read her strange incident, please take time to do so after you read this. Here's her blog address. lucynaylorkubash.blogspot.com

I had a similar supernatural experience with a tornado, late fall of '94. But let me backtrack a couple months. Have you ever heard the song, "The Master of the Wind"? In September of '94 that song kept whirling through my brain, so I bought the soundtrack with the intent to sing it during church service--if I could get up the nerve. (I'm not comfortable performing or speaking in front of a group.) Anyway,I put the tape in the car and sang it everywhere I drove.

Two months later, the Sunday following Thanksgiving, my sister and I were standing outside our mother's house when we noticed a sudden eerie calm after it had been windy. We decided it was time to leave for our homes. I had driven maybe seven miles through country backroads when I glanced to my left. About a 100 yards away in an open field, a wide band of darness stretched all the way from the sky to the ground. It wasn't your usual tornado. No funnel-shaped cloud here. Just a wide sheet that looked to be 50 feet wide.

I was scared out of my wits and started to cry out, "Lord, help me! What do I do?" It was impossible to judge whether the tornado was moving parallel to the car, or if it was headed straight for me. Keeping an eye on its position, I kept driving. I lost sight of the tornado behind tall trees when I passed a wooded area. Then the road curved to the left a half mile farther. Suddenly a thick, dark indigo cloud surrounded my car. But I kept driving slowly until I reached a low spot below a hill. I sat there about 10 minutes. Then I cranked up the car and drove home.

I had no idea of the extent of the damage until my husband drove through the area the next day. He came home to say, "You are just lucky that you and that little red car aren't stuck in a treetop."

I went back with him to survey the destruction. Where the darkness had surrounded me, the house on the left side of the road was minus a back porch. On the right side of the road, a path of trees for about 50 yards, were plastered to the ground.

All I could say was "God LOVES me! He loves ME!" Because for this to happen the way it did, the tornado must have struck the corner of that house, lifted up over my car, then came back down and ripped those trees up by the roots.

No doubt, God spared my life that day. Every time I pass the spot, I get the warm fuzzies because I can feel His love. So do you think that song, "The Master of the Wind" is connected in some way to this incident? I'll let YOU decide.

Below are the words to the chorus. If you haven't heard the song, you really should. It's beautiful. I never did sing it to the congregation, but I still have the tape, folks...to remind me how much God loves ME. He loves YOU that much, too.

I know the Master of the wind.
I know the Maker of the rain.
He can calm the storm
And make the sun shine again.
I know the Master of the wind.

Columbus meets Chief Kookamunga

Probably the two questions I'm most often asked are: "When did you start writing, and who planted the first seeds?"



Some writers may not be able to pinpoint an exact event or pivotal point. Not so with me. It was my fifth grade teacher, Miss Mary, as we students called her. She was my catalyst. Otherwise a shy child, I loved to write book reports and read them to the class. Each ended with a cliffhanger, causing several classmates to get into a scrabble over who would get the book next.



One day after I read a book report on a popular mystery, Miss Mary, smiled broadly and announced, "One day, Laurie will be an author."



Those words stuck somewhere in my my. No one had ever inspired me to become anything. I tucked her words away in the depths of my heart and clung to them through the years.



And though Miss Mary was an encourager, she was a stickler for discipline. One day I discovered this the hard way. She assigned the class to write an essay describing the perils Columbus must have endured on his journey to discover The New World. While the rest of the class groaned over the homework, all sorts of creative ideas spun around in my head. Where should I go with this story? Oh, the possibilities!



I pulled the memory of the essay from the recesses of my mind and filled in the blanks to give you an idea of what my fifth-grade teacher was up against. My version of Columbus's perilous journey went something like this:

Columbus's Catastrophe

Once upon a time there was a man named Christopher Columbus. They called him Chris for short. Chris just knew the world was not flat like a pancake. But how could he prove it was round like a globe? Especially when he couldn't find anybody who would back him, or give him ships and the supplies he needed to cross the Atlantic Ocean, so he could discover the New World.



After traveling to several countries to beg the kings and queens, Queen Isabella of Spain finally gave in. She agreed to give him whatever he needed, but only if he promised to bring her bushel baskets of gold. Chris said he would then loaded the Nina, Pinta, and Santa Maria with food and water. They couldn't take milk or orange juice since neither electricity or refrigerators had been invented. You see, this was before Thomas Edison was born. And because they didn't have any oranges on board, some of the crew members died from scurvy. That's when you don't have enough Vitamin C in your body. Chris and the others had to toss the dead bodies overboard so they wouldn't stink up the ship.



One night the Nina was destroyed in a raging storm. Waves as high as the Empire State Building struck the ship and tossed it about until it sank. On the morning of October 12, 1492, Columbus Day, a man on deck of one of the other ships spotted sea gulls flying around the ship. Another man saw something green in the distance. He yelled, "Land Ho!" Everyone on board started dancing danced and yelling. The Pinta and Santa Maria soon docked in the bay of the West Indies. (Remember the Nina met her Waterloo in the storm.)



The crew was still whooping and hollering when they docked. The Wakoochie Indians on the island heard the loud commotion and armed themselves with spears, then ran to investigate. Before they reached the shore, Christopher and his men shimmied up coconut, banana and pineapple trees in search of fruit to cure their scurvy. When they reached the treetops, they started shaking them to loosen the fruit. Coconuts, bananas, and pineapples, fell like humongous hailstones, and bounced off the Indians' heads, knocking them to the ground. Some were out cold.
The more fruit that fell, the madder the conscious Indians became, until only six braves were standing. Those six rattled Chris's banana tree until his teeth chattered and he could hang on no longer. His grip slipped and he yelled, "Tim-ber!" before he smacked the ground flat on his back. When he opened his eyes, he looked up into six pair of vicious ones staring down at him. The Indians with red and yellow war paint smeared across their noses grabbed Chris by the arms and yanked him to his feet.



In the meantime, Chris's crew scrambled down from their trees, arms loaded with fruit, and high-tailed it to the ships. With yellow streaks down their backs they pulled up the anchors, hoisted the sails, and yelled, "Ship Ahoy!" Then they pointed the ships toward Spain. A big gust of wind blew them out to sea while a forlorn Chris watched them leave him behind. But he had more pressing problems.



The Wakoochie Indians prodded Chris at spear point toward the village square. One last shove and Chris found himself inside the chief's teepee. Big Chief Kookamunga was a hefty, pot-bellied man. They interrupted him as he finished off a pineapple. The yellow juice dripped from his heavy jowls onto his protruding belly. He wiped his face with the back of his hand. Pointing to Columbus, he commanded his natives with one word. "Raka!"



It must have had something to do with fire because the natives found a rope and bound Chris from shoulder to ankle. When the knot was tied, they dragged him to the center of the village and tied him to a stake. A few minutes later while two natives were busy striking flint rocks to start the fire, Chief Kookamunga jostled out of his tee-pee toward them shouting, "Oola! Oola!"



Chris found out it meant, "Wait! I've got a better idea." The chief grunted and pointed to a large cannon a ways down the beach. The Indians pulled Chris from the stake and hauled him to the cannon still bound. They stuffed him inside, feet first and belly down. He struggled and tried protest, but it was no use. They had crammed his mouth full of riped bananas and the ropes were really tight.
The Indians turned the cannon toward the ocean and aimed it up and out. Chief Kookamunga lit the cannon and fired the shot that propelled Chris into the sky like a missile. The other natives stood by and watched him grow smaller with every passing second.



To this day no one knows what happened to Christopher Columbus. We can only guess. So, if on some clear, moonlit night you happen to see a shooting star, stop and salute it, because it might be Christopher Columbus still orbiting the earth. I wonder: Does he knows it's round yet?



By the time I finished reading the essay, the class was in hysterics. The girls giggled and the boys slapped their knees and roared. As I stood proudly, and giggling too, I felt sure I an A+ was coming my way for my rendition of the Columbus story.

Then, a gruff voice behind me spoke. "Laurie!”

I turned to look at Miss Mary. One eyebrow was arched and she was not smiling. I felt the air deflate from my ego before she said, “I want you to re-write that story. And this time, make it more realistic."



My face burned. I thought the story was perfect. And the class loved it. Besides, I wasn't sure of the meaning of "realistic." But that day I reluctantly added it to my vocabulary. Not that I've used it very often since.



Although Miss Mary spurred my imagination in 5^th grade, she also reined it. No know the power of his or her words, how they will affect another. I credit Miss Mary with planting a seed that would one day sprout into a desire to become an author.
Miss Mary has been gone for decades, but her son made an appearance at a book signing for my first release, Journey To Forgiveness.” In his words: “I had to meet the student who dedicated her book to my mother.”

Have you had a similar writing experience? Post a comment and tell me all about it. I'd love to hear from you. We can all learn from each others' experiences.

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