WRITING WITH VOICE—Part Two

By Vicki H. Moss   @vickiMoss
Contributing Editor for Southern Writers Magazine

Continued from my January 9, 2020 post—I’ll start you out on the first paragraph again to refresh your memory:

If only I’d read Delia Owens’ book before publishing my book, Writing with Voice. But unfortunately Where the Crawdads Sing wasn’t published until 2018 so I didn’t have Delia’s wonderful examples of “writing with voice” to give you, so I’ll take this opportunity to show, not tell, on the Suite T blog.

“…Sunday Justice…(I love that name for a feline character), sleeping on the windowsill, flowed to the floor and walked to Kya.”—Dogs don’t flow. But by golly, cat’s do. Love this one! And Delia spent enough time in Africa, observing big cats, to describe them to flowing perfection.  

WRITING WITH VOICE—Part One

By Vicki H. Moss, Contributing Editor for Southern Writers Magazine

If only I’d read Delia Owens’ book before publishing my book, Writing with Voice. But unfortunately Where the Crawdads Sing wasn’t published until 2018 so I didn’t have Delia’s wonderful examples of “writing with voice” to give you, so I’ll take this opportunity to show, not tell, on the Suite T blog.

For one, after reading Where the Crawdads Sing, it’s obvious why the book has—so far—sold four million copies in the U.S., and stayed on the NYT bestseller list for a year. It’s also a Reese Witherspoon x Hello Sunshine Book Club Pick. But besides story, what made this book so special for a first novel and now a movie to be produced by Witherspoon? 

Below I’ll list some of a few lines that stand out for me.

“…necklace of green lagoons.” Rather than the overused and tired “string of green lagoons,” the word “necklace” is a gold nugget plucked straight from a mountain vein and inserted right here.   

“Just like their whiskey, the marsh dwellers bootlegged their own laws.” She nailed that one. And if you’ve ever had a bootlegger in your ancestry, you don’t have to hunt up that word.       

“…Ma’s words needed somewhere to go.” I’m feeling Ma on that one. 

“…lips a thin line under searching eyes.” I’ve seen those lips before, haven’t you? The thin line goes right with the searching. Do plump lips ever match searching eyes? Not as hard as thin lip lines do I’ll wager.

“She anchored him hard with her eyes.” Eyes like that will not even let a barge drift. She doesn’t have to tell us what color those eyes are because that dude’s going nowhere until the anchor’s dislodged.    

“Quiet tongues of foam, waiting for the next surge.”—I can see those tongues of foam moving over sand can’t you?    

“…hunger was a pushing thing.”—Yes, hunger definitely makes you rouse yourself to get up and move to do something about those pangs. Brilliant use of words.   

“She could feel that full gravy taste, like it was round.”—Okay. Laughing and loving on this example because a true gravy-eating-Southerner would truly understand this down to the last cathead biscuit crumb. Now, all ya’ll who aren’t into gravy go learn how to fix some—it takes practice—so you’ll know what Kya’s character is talking about. I’m so craving gravy and biscuits right now! 

Delia’s making her readers go to the kitchen for a cast iron skillet and some bacon grease—no wait, gotta keep turning those pages to see what will happen next! Gravy’s gonna have to wait ‘til this book is finished.

And so sorry, but you’ll have to wait until my February post to read the ending of this story because there were too many jewels to leave out! To be continued in February 6, 2020

         

   

        

MAKING PUBLISHING HISTORY

By Vicki H. Moss, Contributing Editor for Southern Writers Magazine

A lot of readers have read The Christmas Box by Richard Paul Evans. But most folks don’t know how this beautiful story made its way onto book the shelves of bookstores. 

The story of Richard Paul Evans's massive success is one every writer might hope to have. His inspirational story is such a miraculous tale that he could be a main character in one of his own books. In 1993, Evans reputedly wrote his very first book The Christmas Box as a holiday gift for his daughters. The story was representative of his own fatherly love. After writing The End, Evans produced twenty copies of the novella, and then gave the books to a select group of friends and family for Christmas.

After reading the books, they were passed on to others. Until the book was circulated into hands that deemed the book worthy to be read by more than friends or family. Also, Evans’s mother worked as a receptionist in a doctor’s office and sold his books at times by the case, until book stores began calling Evans at home asking for additional copies.

From such a humble beginning, The Christmas Box was picked up by Simon & Schuster, going on to make publishing history as a bestselling hardcover and a bestselling American paperback. Evans—a former advertising executive and clay animator—had suddenly become a bestselling writer with an entirely new career.

With a prequel titled Timepiece in 1996, this book was also a major hit with readers as was, the next book The Letter, which completed the Christmas Box trilogy. From there, Evans expanded into children’s writing with his first book for kids, The Christmas Candle.

The Christmas Box was later adapted for the small screen in 1995 starring Maureen O'Hara and Richard Thomas. The following year, a version of Timepiece featured an early appearance by Naomi Watts—who would later become a superstar.

Evans didn’t stop with a trilogy and one children’s book. He continued to write and churned out mega-sellers that warmed the heart with the following titles: The Locket, The Looking Glass, and The Carousel.

More success came along with the romantic The Last Promise, A Perfect Day, and The Sunflower, a critically acclaimed account of blossoming love at a humanitarian mission in Peru. Finding Noel was written in 2006 after Evans lost his mother on Valentine’s Day—and for once after he’d started writing, he couldn’t give his mother one of his books for Christmas.

Evans’s story of success by way of self-publishing seems like a miracle in itself and is encouragement for those writers who can’t seem to break into traditional publishing. For those stories you feel should be out there, revise, revise, revise and polish until the manuscript shines. Hire a good editor to make sure the book is ready for print. And then take a giant leap. Good luck. And Merry Christmas!        

Never Too Late to Write a Holiday Story

By Vicki H. Moss, Contributing Editor for Southern Writers Magazine

Almost everyone has a Thanksgiving story and you don’t have to be an American to have one. A Thanksgiving story can be about what you’re thankful for in life or if you’re American—your individual Thanksgiving story where family and friends gather around the table as a November custom celebrated in so many homes across the U.S.A. And that’s the story line I’ll be addressing in this article.

With every Thanksgiving celebration, there’s usually a trip to the store for a turkey unless you raise your own. The turkey is key to the food story, the star character if you will. Then there are the sides. Those oh-so-delicious-sides.

Does Aunt Louise cart in a cake or pie to the get together? Which cousin likes to stir up some veggies? Which relative is a good cook and which relative is a terrible cook, bless her heart? Which friend volunteers to set the table but doesn’t know where the silverware goes? Which relatives always show up late—which delays the meal because they had to lasso the turkey? Which relative always sashays in with deviled eggs—wearing a fur coat (the relative, not the eggs)—because deviled eggs are the cheapest dish to bring? Which aunt doesn’t season any of her veggies and her dishes always taste bland? Which friends have a car break down on the way to dinner and someone has to go scoop them up to haul them in?

There are so many different scenarios and subplots going on when you gather a group of people together for a holiday meal. I’m sure you can come up with many scenarios and subplots on your own. If you take one story at a time and flesh out each character, then throw in lots of conflict when the characters clash—oops, come together, pretty soon you would have a novella or perhaps a novel, depending on how much drama you can drum up.

I think I’ll take my own advice and get to work on that project. It’s never too late to write a holiday story. Happy soon-to-be Thanksgiving ya’ll!         

HAMMER DOWN AND GO FOR IT

By Vicki H. Moss, Contributing Editor for Southern Writers Magazine

Cecil Murphey once said that writers had to be a tad egotistical to write. All that rejection couldn’t be about our writing…. But there’s that word again—rejection.  Who in their right mind wants to keep getting rejected? Writing rejection feels lousy and can ruin the best of days. Then why do we do it?

The odds of getting published can be frightening. Let’s just heap all of that rejection on our heads why don’t we. Let’s schedule in a daily weep fest—just what we need when we go to the mailbox everyday to get another rejection letter. While we’re heaping on rejection, let’s go ahead and pile on some resentment and jealousy while we’re at it.

I’ve heard more than a couple of writers say they don’t understand why so-and-so’s books sell better, etc. (Anne Lamottwrote about her rejections and how they hurt.) The first time I heard that from a writer, I was surprised. The first time I read those words in a writer’s book on writing, I was even more shocked. Isn’t there enough fame and fortune to go around for all writers? The answer is—sorry—but no, according to Cec Murphy and others.

With many owning computers these days or at least having access to them, practically the entire world is writing a book. Especially in the Scandinavian countries. One writer who had recently moved to the States from that area of the world told me that with short winter days, people had nothing to do so they were all writing books to while away the time until spring’s thaw.

Who’s going to read all of those books even if they do make it out of the drawer to be published?  

Let’s face reality. There are only so many hours during a day to read books. I still haven’t read all of the classics, much less the millions of contemporary books out there waiting to be read by somebody. Anybody. One warm body.

So why do we keep writing when the odds are stacked against us? Once more, I’d like to share some of Madeleine L’Engle’s thoughts, this time on what she had to say about why she wrote—especially when her husband was her most ruthless critic and a friend once told her, “It’s been said better before.”

“Of course,” Madeleine replied. “It’s all been said better before. If I thought I had to say it better than anybody else, I’d never start. Better or worse is immaterial. The thing is that it has to be said; by me; ontologically. We each have to say it, to say it our own way. Not of our own will, but as it comes out through us. Good or bad, great or little: that isn’t what human creation is about. It is that we have to try; to put it down in pigment, or words, or musical notations, or we die.”

Madeleine’s reply made me think: Writing a story is like decorating a room. If ten different decorators style a room, every room will probably turn out gorgeous, but different. (Unless they put shag carpet on the wall. Sorry, Elvis.) The same goes for a novel. Give the same idea—boy meets girl on the beach, they fall in love—to ten writers and they’re all going to come up with different characters, different plots, different beaches. Not all beaches have to be in sunny climes. We could be talking about two Native Alaskans meeting for the first time on a beach not far from ancient fishing territory.       

As writers, particularly writers who feel the need to write with a no holds barred attitude—our fingers must type words or else—we must stack our words next to each other until our own personal story is fleshed out. It will be different from a neighbor’s story. More nuanced, perhaps. Intimate in different ways, perhaps. Yes, you might have been in the same neighborhood when a tornado hit but what one person experiences is usually totally different from what another experiences.

You might be out on the same fishing boat but only the person in the captain’s chair reeled in the sailfish. Everyone on the boat will tell the story from a different viewpoint or angle. Some stories will be more compelling than others. The sailfish might get longer and longer and weigh more and more by the end of the telling for some. I guarantee no two stories will be exactly identical.

Therefore, don’t be discouraged about the odds stacked against writers. Keep writing stories. You won’t know unless you try. Some might say it better, but their voice isn’t your voice. You might find your niche. You might write a bestseller. No matter the success or lack thereof, your grandchildren might one day get a huge kick out of what gramps or granny had to say in their own voice. You won’t know the results unless you hammer out your masterpiece. Hammer down and go for it!        

   

    

EXPERIENCING IT TO WRITE IT

By Vicki H. Moss, Contributing Editor for Southern Writers Magazine

When writing on a certain subject or activity, how important is it to have experienced the activity yourself? Can you simply fake it—that you know what you’re talking about it or at least make people think you do?

I think you’ll agree you can certainly Google a subject or activity and watch enough You Tube videos to learn to write intelligently about what you need to describe. However, if you can experience whatever it is you’re writing about, I do believe you can be more creative on the page. 

So here’s where I use fish emulsion for an example. As a gardener, I want to feed my flowers and veggies with the best plant food that will boost them into incredible blooms and produce. And I see fish emulsion advertised and reason that if the Native American Indians showed the pilgrims how to plant crops by putting a dead fish in a hole as fertilizer before planting—and I don’t fish much anymore so don’t have fish for planting—fish emulsion has to be the next best thing. So I order some. And I’m amazed at how much plastic is taped around the container.

I suppose, under no circumstances does the shipper want that emulsion leaking through the wrapper while being shipped. Hmmmm. This does not bode well. All of that extra wrapping is sending out subliminal messages that perhaps I don’t really want to deal with fish emulsion for some reason. Perhaps a stinky reason? How awful could it be? I shelve that thought for awhile along with the fish emulsion.

Then, I experience an inevitable rabbit infestation. Deer and rabbit repellent spray are useless when it comes to keeping rabbit hordes at bay. Nor does clapping my hands to try and scare them off. Nor does taking hair from my brush and wrapping some around tender plants scare them off with my scent when I’m not around. And I don’t have a dog or cat to use their hair to frighten the rabbits with predator presence.

But, oh, look at this article! Red Fox urine should do the trick! So I read the reviews and are they ever hilarious—everyone talking about the horrid stench and how the Amazon delivery guys must hate them now…so, no fox urine for me.

Now, my thoughts wander back to the fish emulsion luring me to the shelf in my garage. Does it ruin—is there an expiration date? Perhaps I need to stop worrying about rabbit damage, throw some fish emulsion around the plants and pray they grow so fast the rabbits can’t keep up with their growth and the roses and petunias somehow survive.

However, retrieving the fish emulsion and returning to the kitchen, I open the container to put a couple of tablespoons of the liquid into a watering can to then dilute with water. And I realize—big huge mistake. What was I thinking? After opening that nose bomb and spilling some on the counter top, and my gag reflex going ballistic as I try to wipe up the mess with paper towels, I need to either lose my cookies or need a face mask to breathe.

Rushing outside, I promise myself to never open that fish emulsion container in the house again. My clothes reek with the stuff clinging to me like a putrid cloud and of course I hadn’t thought to wear gloves. No matter how many times I wash my hands, every time my face itches and I scratch the place, I smell rotten fish. Blech!  

And that example, my writer friends, is why there are just some things you need to experience for yourself if you’re going to write about it; helps me anyway. No You Tube video can relay such an experience when it comes to the sense of smell. I had to breathe that foul odoriferous dark ooze to write about it to help get my personal experience down on paper.  

Hopefully the smell from my watering can will tone down. In this century. And only if I get desperate will I ever order fox urine. But you know, experimenting with fox urine could be another interesting writing exercise. I if only I were that adventuresome.               

        

STRETCHING—WRITING OUTSIDE YOUR GENRE

By Vicki H. Moss, Contributing Editor for Southern Writers Magazine

I’d always wanted to read a Ted Dekker novel. So imagine my surprise when I was on holiday and the house where I stayed had several of his tomes. There was a book series along with a single novel. I had visions of me plowing through the series before tackling the lone novel. 

Yeah, right. I had to be experiencing journey proud grand delusions. However, I immediately turned to the first chapter of the first book. 

The first book of the series was so strange, and weird, and contained so much symbolism, it took me almost all week to read it. The genre could be called Speculative Fiction. Very interesting, but not a light read. I knew I wouldn’t be able to finish the other two books in the series so chose to read the stand alone novel next. I plowed through it in a day—a much easier book to read, and I really enjoyed it because I didn’t have to think so hard as in—okay, what’s Ted talking about here?

But why did I enjoy the second book so much more than his other book? Perhaps because I’m not that big a fan of science fiction, mysterious worlds and such—meaning, creepy things that go bump in the night. But that first read did make me think; just what exactly is the definition of speculative fiction?

In 1941 Robert Heinlein came up with the term “speculative fiction” to collectively describe works in the genres of Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror. It can also include other genres like Historical Fiction, Alternate Histories, and Mysteries with some Romance thrown in. I was surprised to discover Tarzan fit into this genre. As well as The Twilight Zone and stories by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Edgar Allen Poe tales also fit because they were stories on the fringe. Speculative fiction can put your everyday ordinary people into out-of-this-world extraordinary circumstances. The genre can take you to far out places while you’re still sitting on the front piazza swing, swilling sweet tea, while listening to mourning doves cry.  

After a week of binging on a couple of Ted Dekker books, what did I learn from the exercise of reading the works of a new (for me) writer? I discovered that I might like to one day venture out and write a speculative fiction novel myself. Yes, really. No horror, but maybe some “on the fringe” story with a Twilight Zone verve to it—something I never dreamed I might like to do.

One thing I absolutely did learn was this: reading outside the genres I normally read stimulated my muse. And, the old adage is true that writers should read vociferously, fiction as well as nonfiction. Never know what new ideas might come forth. There might just be a speculative fiction novel in your head that’s waiting to be written.                 

          

Titles: Short or Catchy?

By Vicki H. Moss, Contributing Editor for Southern Writers Magazine

In May’s blogs posts I referenced the children’s writer Madeleine L’Engle. To my knowledge, she’s never written a book on writing, but in her adult nonfiction books, she wrote about writing when she stayed at Crosswicks—her family property where loved ones gathered in summers.

So keeping in the same vein, I’ll share her thoughts on book titles with you before sharing mine. “The title of a book is as important as one’s right and proper signature on a check. A book may have a Library of Congress number, as a check may have that cybernetic salad, but a book, like Emily Bronte, like you, like me, must have its own name. Some books get born with names: The Arm of the Starfish. The Young Unicorns. We had to search for the proper name for A Wrinkle in Time, and it was my mother who came up with it, during a night of insomnia. I went into her room with a cup of coffee in the morning, and she said, ‘I think I have a title for your book, and it’s right out of the text: A Wrinkle in Time.’” Madeleine goes on to say that many titles had been thrown out there. All vetoed before her mother mentioned A Wrinkle in Time.

Wouldn’t it be nice if we all had insomniac mothers who could come up with great book titles?

If you don’t have a creative mother who gets by on little sleep, here are a few tips on coming up with a good title, whether it be for an article or a book: Less words are best words for titles. Think Vanquished. Hamlet. Macbeth. Dracula. Night. Persuasion. Holes. Rebecca. Emma. Twilight. Heidi. Eclipse. Matilda. It. Ivanhoe. Mockingjay (The Hunger Games #3).

When a short title isn’t on the table, make the title catchy. I love Ally Carter’s titles from her young adult spy novels: I’d Tell You I Love You, But Then I’d Have to Kill You. Don’t Judge a Girl by Her Cover. Cross My Heart and Hope to Spy. Only the Good Spy Young. Out of Sight, Out of Time.  

And it’s always a good idea to check out Amazon’s book list to see how many books have the same title as your potential bestseller. There can be several books with the same title—no one has a copyright on titles—but, if there are a slew of books with the same title already out there, you might want to change yours up a little so it stands out from the pack. Good luck!

 

LEARNING CURVES

By Vicki H. Moss, Contributing Editor for Southern Writers Magazine

Do you recall the first time you learned how to use Windows? Not the windows in your home, but the computer program that helped open up the world to so many new things, including writing.

I remember sitting in a college classroom at night after having signed up for a course on Microsoft Windows, thinking it was one of the hardest things I’d ever tried to learn and how would I ever become proficient in maneuvering around in the software program. The course wasn’t quite as bad as my first computer class in college which was a first class nightmare—all Greek to me. But, still.... 

Once my brain had checked out of collegiate matters, my brain was on to other things like changing diapers, getting food on the table with a toddler hanging onto my leg, you know, life in general.

To think back on those overwhelming times—it all seems comical now. What? Using Windows difficult? There had definitely been a learning curve for sure. But using Windows soon became second nature.

Then came learning how to write stories that a kids’ magazine might buy—another learning curve. They get 10,000 submissions for six issues a year—are you kidding me—how in the world would I break in? Then there was the challenge of submitting articles, another learning curve there too. Attending writing conferences and workshops were greatly beneficial in helping with these new tasks—the latest learning curve.

Next came the mountain climb of all mountain climbs when a friend said, “You really need to get a website up and running and I’ll help you.”

I recall being horrified. My heart pounded. A very private person, the last thing I wanted to do was have my photo on the internet. The friend kept nudging me and said, “Start working on the info you’d like to include on your pages. Choose the photography you’d like to use. Let’s get this thing going.” I honestly don’t know if I would have ever set up a website if I hadn’t had this encouragement—okay, this push. Again, the task was so overwhelming. Not only did I have to get tons of material together, I had to “learn how to code” so to speak. Another huge learning curve. And I was totally out of my comfort zone. I freaked out when I was told, “I’ll help you set up the website, but from then on, you have to do the work.” But learn how to do it all, I did, even though I whined. A lot.   

The Miriam-Webster dictionary gives this meaning for “learning curve”–– the course of progress made in learning something. Once I, the student, “got the hang” of how to do something new, I could look back and chuckle about my intense fear and being completely out of my comfort zone.

As seasoned writers, there are still learning curves. I need to keep stretching myself. I don’t stop learning until my body lies “a moulderin’ in the grave.” If another friend hadn’t insisted I enter a poetry contest—at the time I didn’t consider myself a poet—I wouldn’t have won first place out of hundreds of entries. If I hadn’t stretched myself and tried to write humor, my article wouldn’t have won first place in another writing contest. Not that first place awards are needed, but awards are a gauge of how a writer is coming along on their writing journey. Another learning curve. After a few writing awards have been won and the waters have been tested with a Sally Fields moment of “they like me, they really like me,” then I knew it was time to stop entering contests and get down to the business of writing.

If you’re living and breathing, there will always be learning curves as writers. Continue educating yourself by attending workshops and studying books on writing. Read far and wide. Include nonfiction along with fiction if you’re a novelist. Study poetry and stretch your brain. A character down the road might need to write a limerick to a loved one and if you’re familiar with different types of poetry, you can pull from those resources.

Be totally fearless when it comes to learning curves.

Now, if only I could just figure out how to work the remote for the TV in my living room. *big grins*                         

EMBRACE THOSE REJECTIONS

By Vicki H. Moss, Contributing Editor for Southern Writers Magazine

On May 2 on the Suite T blog, I wrote about the children’s writer Madeleine L’engle, author of the children’s book A Wrinkle in Time; how she kept writing after rejections because she couldn’t stop. 

Most of you know that A Wrinkle in Time, a young adult novel in the science fantasy genre and first published in 1962, won the Newbery Medal. It also won the Sequoyah Book Award, and Lewis Carroll Shelf Award, and was a runner-up for the Hans Christian Andersen Award. The book also inspired two film adaptations, both by Disney: a 2003 television film directed by John Kent Harrison, and a 2018 theatrical film directed by Ava DuVernay.

But what most people don’t know is that it took Madeleine ten years to sell her manuscript. She kept writing during her perceived failure. “I’m glad I made this decision [to keep writing] in the moment of failure. It’s easy to say you’re a writer when things are going well. When the decision is made in the abyss, then it is quite clear that it is not one’s own decision at all.

“In the moment of failure I knew that the idea of Madeleine, who had to write in order to be, was not image.

“And what about that icon?

“During those difficult years I was very much aware that if I lost my ability to laugh, I wouldn’t be able to write, either. If I started taking myself and my failure too seriously, then the writing would become something that was mine, that I could manipulate, that I could take personal credit—or discredit—for. When a book was rejected, I would allow myself twenty-four hours of private unhappiness. I’m sure I wasn’t as successful in keeping my misery from the family as I tried to be, but I did try.”

Madeleine goes on to say she would take a walk and do her weeping. She could also play games with the children at dinner, but she couldn’t listen to Bach. Unlike Madeleine, I didn’t weep over rejections, nor did I nail my rejections to a timber like Stephen King. I did, however, keep every single rejection in a box and I also kept good records in a three-ring-binder pertaining to where each story was sent and if it sold or not. By keeping good records, I prepared myself for an eventual book sale—and a possible IRS audit. Because one day down the road, I planned on making some sales. Goalzzzzz! Before that day came, I kept myself in a positive frame of mind, and began writing for kids’ magazines to keep me pumped before a book deal.  

But if you must weep, go ahead. I’ve found weeping, however, makes me weak. I do better thinking about how many rejections Stephen King had before he made a sale; somewhere in the sixties. Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert Pirsig had 121 rejections. Chicken Soup for the Soul by Jack Canfield had 144 rejections. Kate DiCamillo had 473 rejections beforeBecause of Winn-Dixie (one of my favorites) was published. Louis L’Amour had 200 rejections before he was finally published.

Feel better now? Just remember, if you must write in order to be—like Madeleine L’Engle—weep if you must over rejections. Go all out on the gloom and despair bit for a few hours. Then get back to work pronto. What helped me was to say, “Yay, I got a rejection letter today! Now only 60 more before I’m up there with Stephen King’s rejection number,” or “200 more rejections until I’m up there with Louis L’Amour’s count!” I actually celebrated those first rejections and continued the countdown. Worked for me. Saved my mascara.

And after 57 rejections, I sold my first story. And *drumroll* bought the family hamburgers that night because it wasn’t enough money to go all the way with cheese. But hey, I still had my first writing paycheck.

I’ll say it again, weep if you must, but only for a time. Because time’s a wastin’. Go ahead and laugh and listen to Bach. While writing. Then send your manuscripts out. Those editors, agents, and publishers who accept unsolicited manuscripts are waiting for your masterpiece. It won’t get published unless you 1) send it out, or 2) self-publish. Those are your options. Success won’t happen unless you put yourself out there and embrace a few rejections.                         

Forget the Perfect Pie Crust

By Vicki H. Moss, Contributing Editor for Southern Writers Magazine 

Having moved over a year ago, many of my books were still in boxes. A well-meaning daughter said, “Mom, you know, you might want to get rid of some of your books.” She’s practical, but not a writer.

Then a well-meaning friend said, “You might want to get your books from the library so you can take them back. That way you don’t run out of room.” Again, she’s not a writer.

I consider my books my friends. And it never fails, years after reading a book, I need to pull it from my shelves to take another look at a sentence or thought or well-worded paragraph that has meaning for whatever it is I’m thinking about. Yes, I will be one of those old women who wears purple with piles of books surrounding her death bed, their pages begging to be read just one more time before I draw my last ragged breath.

Today, the boxed books I sought were by Madeleine L’Engle—the children’s writer best known forA Wrinkle in Time. But Madeleine was more than a children’s writer. She wrote adult nonfiction that soothed my soul during many winter months when I cared for an ailing mother—thinking about Mother’s flower beds and what I could plant in them to cheer a woman living on borrowed time. Madeleine also cared for an ailing mother and was also a gardener, why her books helped me navigate many dark nights of the soul.

And by reading Madeleine’s books, I became interested in reading science magazines—something I never cared a whit about previously.   Yes, I was that teen girl who would rather write a 10,000 word paper rather than concoct an experiment for the science fair. But Madeleine made the mysterious seem adventurous. And I branched out with my reading material. I even dreamed once that I invented a rocket, though the details left me as soon as the day dawned.  

In her book A Circle of Quiet, The Crosswicks Journal—Book I, Madeleine writes about living in her two-hundred-year-old house: “We are four generations under one roof this summer, from infant Charlotte to almost-ninety Great-grandmother. This is a situation which is getting rarer and rarer in this day and age when families are divided by large distances and small dwellings.” And I am drawn into her world.

She writes about checks bouncing, her manuscripts being rejected—her not feeling like she was pulling her own weight financially because she was spending so much time writing and felt that if she quit writing perhaps she could learn to make better pie crust and her family’s underwear would no longer be pinky streaked from her always managing to throw in something red with the whites. At one point she writes, “So the rejection on the fortieth birthday seemed an unmistakable command: Stop this foolishness and learn to make cherry pie.

“I covered the typewriter in a great gesture of renunciation. Then I walked around and around the room, bawling my head off. I was totally, unutterably miserable.

“Suddenly I stopped, because I realized what my subconscious mind was doing while I was sobbing: my subconscious mind was busy working out a novel about failure.

“I uncovered the typewriter. In my journal I recorded this moment of decision, for that’s what it was. I had to write….” 

Sometimes you have to push through doubts and setbacks. If your family’s underwear has “pinky streaks” tell them you’re working on something scientific having to do with the color pink and its calming effects. Remind them a warden once claimed inmates who wore pink underwear remained calmer and you’re conducting an experiment. It make for a better pie crust? Forget that nonsense.

Make cobbler. The recipe where you dump all the ingredients in at once—anything to save more time for writing. Because, if you’re like Madeleine L’engle, you can’t stop writing: “I had no choice in the matter. It was not up to me to say I would stop, because I could not. It didn’t matter how small or inadequate my talent…I still had to go on writing.” 

And I’m so glad Madeleine didn’t give up putting pen to paper and was terrible at making pie crusts. 

SURFING THROUGH YOU TUBE

By Vicki H. Moss, Contributing Editor for Southern Writers Magazine

If you’re looking for writing inspiration, You Tube videos are a treasure trove. Last night, I was doing some research by watching a video, but with potato salad on my mind. So I Googled, “You Tube,” for videos on how to make potato salad, curious as to how other people prepared one of my comfort foods. Anything to veer off topic and procrastinate from writing, right?

At first I was intrigued by this one woman’s technique of cutting up boiled eggs which was similar to mine. Mesmerized by her rhythmic hands, I was then hypnotized by how she deftly wielded her sharp blade through all of that soft white eggy part before getting down into the slicing and dicing of yellow yolk—the entire time admonishing her viewers not to skimp on the eggs. “Five potatoes, five eggs. Do not skimp on the eggs in your potato salad,” she said in a buttery voice. She had me convinced and I wondered how many billion pounds of potato salad she’d made in her life for funerals, family, and friends.     

In another demonstration, the cook used an onion chopper for chopping up her onions. Pfffftttt! So much easier to use a sharp Henckels prep knife and with a quick chop, chop, chop, you don’t have to clean those plastic contraptions into next week because your dishwasher failed to blast between the small blades. Meh, onto another.  

In the next video, I was shocked at what people tossed into their potato salad. Miracle Whip? What! Yuck! Everybody knows you’re supposed to use Real Mayo! Why is she putting milk in there—Holy Cow! No one likes their potato salad that creamy! You could drink that potato salad and I’ll bet she overcooked her potatoes. Ugh, ugh, ugh! And throw some more mustard in there, Miss Stingy! Wait a minute, not so free handed with that vinegar Miss Sour Sally!

And this next video took the potato. I felt my face screwing up and heard myself grinding out, Nooooooooo! Who puts sugar in potato salad? Are you crazy? You just dumped in ¾ cup of sugar on top of five cut up Irish potatoes and diced eggs and all of that Mayo, dill relish, and mustard! Gross! And if you’re not a diabetic, you ought to be! And now I can’t erase from my ever loving mind this video of you dumping sugar on your potatoes! I can feel that grit clinging to my molars Miss Sugary Sarah! How can I stop this video from replaying in my head! I did not see that. I did not see that. I did not see that.

Suddenly, I burst out laughing at myself, though I was shocked—yes shocked—that I was so traumatized by the sugar episode. More so than that time I watched a reality show of people eating worms, I kid you not. Oh my goodness. What did this say about me? Probably that I was a food snob, just like my mother. When had I turned into her when it came to cooking? Was I going to start condemning people for not putting sage in their dressing? Yep.   

And it hit me, I’d just “experienced” my own cooking scene by watching those videos. (If only I had a video of me watching that video—the horror I felt on my face as my jaw dropped was surreal and hilarious as I thought about checking my blood pressure.)

The scene might not work for my present nonfiction book project about a soldier who had lost his life in Afghanistan, but it would work for a novel or a memoir down the road. One thing for sure, that scene was definitely going in a book.

So, Happy Trails while surfing through You Tube cooking videos and beware too much “sweetness.” Now, I’m off to the frig for some potato salad!