Pages & Paws

Writing, Reading, and Rural Life With a Border Collie


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How A World-Class Acrophobic Survived Pyramid Peak (sort of) & Writing It Real

Disclaimer: I may have done some pretty stupid things back when I was young and foolish – like yesterday – but nothing like hiking Pyramid Peak. At least not in the last 10 minutes. (Kids, don’t try this at home.)

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You know that saying about “There’s dangerous and doable and then there’s dangerous and stupid?” (If you’ve never heard it before, don’t worry. I just made it up.) Well, guess which category the Pyramid Peak hike fell into?

My husband, aka Snuggle Bunny, and I planned to do what we always do to celebrate our anniversary: hike the hinterlands. I mean, who needs romantic candlelit dinners and tiramisu when you can chug through every mosquito-ridden, rock-strewn traipse known to man in knee-deep mud and cushion your every fall with a nice, thick slab of granite while enjoying The Great Outdoors?

Pyramid Peak 2

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The Best Days

He was one long drink of water. Thirty-ish. Long and lean. Sweat shirt and tennis shoes. Spare as a scarecrow, with enough energy to power Seattle for a fortnight, solo. Maybe more.

It wasn’t quite how I had our Friday planned. It was supposed to be a quick library in and out. Swoop in. Return some checked-out books. Pick up some new ones. Dash out. Head for the nearest Hershey’s with almonds, lickety-split.

But Sarah the Intrepid Youth Services Librarian hornswoggled my son into attending a YA author’s presentation in the downstairs meeting room. Which meant she also hornswoggled me.

Sometimes the best days are unplanned.

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Finishing Touches

Hoq River Sunset 2Hey there, sports fans. It’s that time of year again.  Another school year’s in the rear view mirror. Whew. The Stanley Cup’s been awarded – way to go, Kings! – but there’s plenty more summer sports on tap. Baseball. Wimbledon tennis. The Tour de France (Yes, I confess. Been following that epic bicycle race for years).

Ditto summer reading programs. Fresh starts. New projects while the good weather holds and one summer-gilded day glides into the next.

Recent projects around here this summer include putting the finishing touches on my new web site. You won’t find any box scores or time trials here, but if you’re even a teensy-weeny bit partial to Mozart, have I got a deal for you! :)

Visit me at: Kristine Lowder, Author. Don’t forget to leave a comment.

By the way, if you’re an author or know an author looking for some exposure for your work this summer, check out my Author Avalanche page.

In the meantime, Batter up!


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Cozy Quilts and ‘Cave-Dwelling Neanderthals’

It’s no coincidence.  The writing compulsion most often grabs me by the neck and shakes me till my teeth rattle when I’m surrounded by books.  For a writer, there’s something inspirational about a library.  Being in the massed presence of so many other authors is like snuggling under a cozy quilt on a snowy day.

Here in the warm embrace of some of my favorite dead people, I’ve engaged in an experiment: I’m re-reading some of my favorite stories from childhood. There’s something steadying and bracing about unearthing and enjoying a book that’s still in circulation some forty years or so after finding it the first time.  It’s like digging up a pot of gold or swan-diving into an Olympic-sized pool of Hershey’s chocolate with almonds.

It’s also kind of strange.

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‘Desper-Doodles’ and Snake Oil Salesmen

“Never mistake motion for action” – Ernest Hemingway

If you’ve been at the writing trade for longer than twenty minutes or so, you’ve probably noticed the “desperate doodlers.”  These are the writer wannabees who are so desperate to break into print that they’ll pitch their work to anyone and everyone, even paying a third party to get “published.”  Those who continuously stoop to submitting anything, anywhere, with little to no regard to a publisher’s reputation, accessibility or integrity aren’t Real Writers so much as they are Desper-Doodles.  They’re dying to pad their scanty resumes with “publishing credits” from any Tom, Dick, or Harry that comes along and says “I’ll take that.”  (This can actually hurt you in the long run if you make it a habit.)

Heads Up

A word of clarity here: In the publishing world, “small” or “independent” doesn’t necessarily mean poor quality or ill repute.  Just because a publisher or literary outlet isn’t a household name doesn’t necessarily mean it’s a boiler-plate, fly-by-night outfit.  But it might.  So heads up: “Come one, come all” publishers who prey on inexperienced novice writers are a dime a dozen.  They’ll publish anything and everything, usually for a fee, regardless or quality or merit.  Some of these “publishers” make a living at predating on hapless souls who are willing to sell their firstborn for a chance to see their name in lights.

Look before you leap.  You may get your work “published” with some of these “snake oil” publishers, but good luck on finding anyone who’ll actually buy your book – let alone fall in as a loyal reader.

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Have you had an experience with a publishing “snake oil salesman?”

What did you learn?


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Nearly Nine Terrific Tips for Writing Humor

It’s a wet, rainy day here on the Peninsula.  Rain is slamming the house  sideways.  The wind is howling like a banshee.  (How does a banshee howl, anyway?)  It’s a perfect curl-up-with-a-good-book-by-the-fireplace kind of day.

If only we had a fireplace.

Well, even though it’s anything but dry weather around here, one thing we’re not short of is dry wit.  In honor of this surfeit, I’m throwing in a shameless plug for my newly released micro Ebook.  (It’s not only free, it’s also a quick by-the-fireplace read perfect for a wet, rainy day.  First time in downloadable Ebook format.  What a deal!)  It goes like this:

Have you tried humor writing only to crash and burn? Would your best material outlast the expiration date on a milk carton?  If so, do not despair.  My newest  micro Ebook, Nearly Nine Terrific Tips for Writing Humor, offers clear, concise and user-friendly tips that will have the crankiest curmudgeon laughing in no time!

Download your FREE copy today and do me a quick favor.  Post a review or “Like” it on the Smashwords page.  Then join the party at Kristine Lowder, Writer.  Stop by, leave a comment and be sure to share your own links!  For more, visit: Nearly Nine.

Also, for those of you who write memoirs and/or creative non-fiction, check out: Dream of Things.  Lots of good stuff here.  Worth a look-see.

What writing resources have you found in the last week?  Who or what has helped you pursue your calling as a writer?  Share in the comments section.


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When It Looks Like You’re Writing (But You’re Really Not)

The rationale went something like:

I’ll just check my email lickety-split, be done with it and carry on with my day.

It’s rarely that simple.  Or quick.  It can suck you into a tentacly grip for hours.  For a writer, “checking my email” can easily turn into a bottomless sieve funneling time and mental energy away from writing. It’s a distraction.  A thin veneer of “working” when you’re really not.

It was a bad habit I needed to break.

So I made a decision.  I raised my right hand and repeated after me: “Quiet time first.  Read and write before email.  Read and write before email.  I will do something other than check my email first if it kills me!”

Know what?  Not only am i not dead, but my days opened up when I re-arranged my morning priorities.  There’s a spaciousness that wasn’t there when I was a slave to my dad blame email.  I’m not as frazzled.  That feeling of being tugged in 98 different directions at once is gone.  Well, almost. (I still check, I’m just not chained to it anymore.   Don’t look at me like that.  If you’re reading this, I bet you know exactly what I mean.)

Why didn’t I think of this sooner?

What habits will you break that interfere with your writing?  Share with us in the comments section.

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Are you a writer?  How do you know?

Find out!  Grab a free copy of my micro ebook, Skipping the Tiramisu: Becoming The Writer You Were Born to Be when you subscribe to my monthly-ish newsletter, Wreal 8.

To thank you for reading and being awesome, both are FREE!


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How Do You Know?

How do you know if you’re a writer?   Do you know when someone says, “Hey! I saw your byline in Barnes & Noble the other day! Good work!”?  Or when you say to yourself, “I’m a writer.  I am. I am. I am”?  Do you know when you land that first publishing contract or take part in your very own book signing?

I think a writer is someone who writes because he or she can’t not write.

I majored in Communication/Print Media.  Worked in public relations and marketing.  Wrote press releases, news articles and feature stories by the boatload.  Ditto short stories, novellas, historical fiction and devotionals.  Even dabbled in a little poetry here and there when no one was lookin’.  Some of my work has “seen the light.”  Some not.

Much More

Know what?  It doesn’t matter. Because writing is more than a profession.  Much more.  It’s a calling.  Something you were born to do. That’s not to say that writing will always come easily, effortlessly, like falling off a chair.  Writing is work.  But for real writers, there’s nothing more satisfying than… writing.

Something to Say

If you’re a writer, you have something to say.  A part of yourself to give.  A story to clawing at your guts, bellowing to be let out and dribbled onto paper or keyboard.  Trying to bottle up a story in a writer is like trying to cork a Tyrannosaurus Rex into a pint-sized milk carton.

Let it out. Say it. Give it.  Share it.

Keep at It

Whether or not you land a publishing contract doesn’t really matter.  You’ll get better with practice and persistence.  If you’re a real writer, you won’t quit.  Even in the face of rejection letters.  (Don’t let that curmudgeonly editor discourage you.  Learn from his criticism and improve.)

If you’re a real writer, you can’t not write.  It’s who you are.  With or without an audience.  Whether people are listening or not. Writing is something you were born to do, a craft under constant revision.  It’s something you need…  Like fish need water.  Birds need air.

What matters is that you start.  Today.  Be prepared to learn, grow, explore and rewrite, rewrite, rewrite.  You can do it!


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‘Our Cute Little Killer’

By Gib Check

            Wife Ruthie is the bird-watching expert, though even I can tell the difference between, say, a duck and a woodpecker. One swims and the other doesn’t. In any case, I like watching the antics of our feathered friends as much as her.

This last winter I glanced outside and spotted one I’d never seen before sitting atop our backyard feeder. Robin-sized, with black and white markings on a pale gray body, it looked very striking. Funny, though, how it was ignoring the birdseed on the feeder platform. Instead, its perky little head kept swiveling from side-to side and down at the ground where seed had fallen onto the snow.

What a cute little birdie, I thought. Ruthie wasn’t around to identify it, so I just kept admiring it.

Suddenly it froze to stare at something below. A second later it swooped down, thrust its tiny beak into the snow, and pulled up a seed-hunting mole! The bird promptly killed it with a few jabs of its beak. Next it flew off with it to the island across from our pier. The bird’s line of flight jogged up and down with its heavy burden, but it made it.

I stood there flabbergasted. Then I was even more surprised to see this cute but homicidal little bird soon resume its perch on the feeder to find more victims.

Interrupted by Ruthie coming home, I rushed her to the window and told her what I’d seen. After laughing like I was only joshing her, she studied our little visitor.

“It’s pretty, but I don’t recognize it. I’ll go find my bird book.”

When I came home the next day, it was her turn to grab hold of me. “I’ve got to show you that bird! You won’t believe what it did!”

As we peered out at our pint-sized killer perched on the feeder, she said excitedly, “I thought you were kidding me yesterday, except it just now grabbed a mole!”

She laughed, “And here’s the crazy part! A squirrel ran over and tried taking the mole away from it! But then little Killer fought him for it!”

She said the two of them had a tug-of-war over the poor mole until the squirrel finally won and ran off with it.

Opening the bird book, she showed me that our mystery guest was a Loggerhead Shrike, a rare species that sometimes visits from the far north. Truly a killer if ever there was one, it preys on small birds and mammals. If thorn trees are handy, it impales its victims on long thorns to snack on later. This explained why no other birds were using the feeder. They were staying way clear of little Killer’s reign of terror.

Visiting friends stood with us at the window, all of us watching it on the feeder and hoping to see some blood-sport. Disappointingly, there was no savagery this time. Maybe it had already knocked off all the moles.

Since our squirrel had revealed itself to be carnivorous, we looked it up, too. Sure enough, we learned that yet another of our cutesy backyard critters often feasted on things besides acorns.

We always thought our backyard was a place where wild creatures peacefully mingled, but as it turns out, it’s a slaughterhouse. And so, dear readers, does all of this sound a bit grim? Then here’s a cheerier note, or at least it is for Ruthie and me; we sure won’t be plagued with any mole problems this year. Better yet, if you don’t mind a bit of bloodshed, maybe we could even send little Killer over to deal with your moles!

Author Gib Check

Retired from construction, I live on a Wisconsin lake with wife Ruthie and am finally exploring being an author. When I write about our travel adventures, I focus on the fun we have meeting people and exploring these places. I’m also big on hiking, biking, canoeing, and thrill to stargazing. (I keep hinting to Ruthie and the kids about a new ‘scope). But always, it’s the writing I love.


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Write Away: Attitude (Part 1 of 5)

“Everywhere I have sought rest and not found it, except sitting in a corner by myself with a book”

– Thomas a Kempis

Most people think “writer” is a noun and “writing” is a verb.  Not quite.  Writing is a talent, a skill.  Writing well is a gift.  But it’s also a calling, every bit as much of a calling as is the “call” to be a pastor, missionary, doctor, lawyer, butcher, baker, or candlestick maker.  What kind of “calling” is writing – and how do you know if you have it?  Let’s start with some of the differences between “Writer Wannabees” and “Real Writers.”

It’s not unusual for Writer Wannabees to fancy themselves the Real Deal.  Lord love ‘em, these are the folks who dabble in, play at, or “write” bi-annually, “whether they need to or not.”  Their version of “writer” is anyone who can bang out a few semi-coherent sentences or pages to wow the fam or undiscriminating friends and associates.  Some think their attempt at cranking out the next great American novel earns them the appellation.  Or their degree in English.  Or landing a book contract.  Or getting published.

I beg to differ.

Call me old-fashioned, but my version of Real Writer – as opposed to hobbyists or the occasional, haphazard Writer Wannabee – doesn’t have so much to do with talent as it does inspiration, motivation, and attitude.

More later, so stay tuned.

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