Pages & Paws

Writing, Reading, and Rural Life With a Border Collie


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The Little Candle…

My long-time friend, fellow author and pastor Cheryl Kincaid has a new book out, The Little Candle That Was Frightened of the Dark. I’m giving Cheryl and her book some visibility here because I think you’d either enjoy it yourself or know someone who would.  Maybe both.  Here’s the scoop:

The Little Candle is a family Advent Devotion that is prefaced by a children’s story about a baptismal candle who sits in shadowy place by a great Advent wreath in a church sanctuary. The candle trembles in the dark until he hears the Advent story told by each of the candles around the wreath. Each of the Advent candles represent the lessons of Advent and tries to comfort the baptismal candle by re-telling these lessons in the Nativity. 

The story culminates with an Advent family devotion which walks family members through the lessons of Advent. The Little Candle is written for children between the ages of three and six, but can be enjoyed by all ages.

Oh, and if you haven’t had a chance to grab a copy of my Thanksgiving-themed micro-memoir, Isabella’s Torch, download it FREE today!

Available in paperback and on Kindle.


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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 Does a Writer “Register”?

I plopped onto the bed, laced up my sneaks and saw my screen saver slide into view.  It shook me till my hair rattled.

This may not sound like much, but you gotta understand that this Mount Rainier screen saver has been sashaying across my screen since shortly after the discovery of fire.  Stunning flower fields, glistening rivers, snow-capped peaks and jaw-dropping alpine vistas skip across my screen whenever I’m away from the keyboard for a few minutes.  Like I said, it’s been up for eons.  And I was really seeing it – connecting, appreciating, taking time to consciously enjoy the slides – for the first time in months.

Then it struck me: How many printed pages have I done the same thing to? Seen or read, but not really “registered”?  How ’bout you?

I read five books in the past two weeks: The Hunger Games series (three) and Notes from a Midnight Driver.  The fifth?  No idea.  I read a fifth, but I couldn’t tell you the title for all the tea in China.  It didn’t register.

How do you as a writer craft your work so your words “register”?  Or is that totally up to the reader? Chime in on the comments section.

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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 Does a Writer Balance Social Media and Writing?

Facebook.  Tweets.  Status updates.  Micro-blogging.

Everyone who’s anyone is all over social media these days.  To hear pundits tell it, social media is the best thing since sliced bread.  And if you’re an author or an inspiring author, “don’t leave home without it.”

Fine.  Now take a closer look.  “Social media” may be media, but is it really “social”?

Really?

“Social” means community.  Relationships.  Connecting, sharing, collecting, mutuality.  Give and take, as opposed to isolation “flying solo.”  Some of that does exist on the more popular social media channels.  You may even share links, retweet and reciprocate.  And you should.  But using social media to “build relationships”?  Really?  I’ve had occasion to rethink this lately.
What kind of “relationship” can you build with a status update?  Do you really get to know a person, what makes them tick, keeps them up late at night, or their favorite dessert in a 140-character tweet?  Oh, and one other thing.  Social media lends itself to full-blown narcissism like ugly on an ape.  Don’t go there.

Choose

Now, there’s nothing wrong with using social media to “get your message out” or “connect.”  But let’s realize it for what it is: a mile wide and a quarter inch deep.  A springboard, not the whole pool.   Let’s not confuse status updates with a genuine conversation.  Choose face-to-face over online whenever we can.

If you’re burying yourself in “social media” rather than having dinner with the fam, playing catch with the kids, or talking to gramps on the phone, you’re giving yourself and your relationships short-shrift.  If checking your email has turned into an addiction, see that for the red light it is.  If you’re more intent on blog stats than connecting with real flesh-and-blood humans, figure out what’s real and realign your priorities.

That old country/western tune got it right.  If you’re looking for real relationships with real people via a keyboard and an electronic box made for one, you’re “looking for love in all the wrong places.”

Go the extra mile

IMHO, writers need to go the extra mile in cultivating “social.”  Writing is a solitary endeavor.  It’s easy to “roll back the sidewalks,” close the door, burrow into your writing world and then fool yourself into thinking you’re “connecting” in any substantive manner through social media alone.

If you’re tweeting and blogging and Facebook-ing, great.  Just don’t stop there.  Get out and meet some new people.  Acquire a new hobby outside your own four walls.  Join a book discussion group.  Invite a neighbor to dinner.  Pick up the phone and connect with that friend you’ve “been meaning to call.”  You’ll not only gain some friends, but you’ll probably harvest a bumper crop of fresh story ideas and inspiration, too!

Don’t wait.  Do it today.

How do you balance “social” with “media”?

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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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A Little Lowder * Twitter * Facebook


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“That’s Amore! Life With an Italian Father, Mother, and Uncles”

Somehow, somewhere, some unknown number of years ago, Joseph B. Olivieri, Sr. prefaced an unpublished manuscript with:

“This book is being written for my children, grandchildren, nephews and nieces who never knew their grandparents and their uncles.”

I am one of those nieces.  And I really should clean out my filing cabinet more often.

I received the unpublished manuscript for Life with an Italian Father, Mother, and Uncles from my step-mom, who mailed it to me shortly after my father passed away in 2003.  I gave the mss. a quick, cursory skim, stashed it away and promptly forgot about it until just recently.[1] I was looking for something else in my personal “archaeological dig” (aka: The Dreaded Filing Cabinet) when I noticed an oversized manila envelope wedged in the back.  Curious, I hauled it out, blew off the dust, opened it, and found myself instantly transported back some forty years or so to Michigan and the Olivieri home.

You see, Joseph Olivieri, Sr. was my uncle.  He married my Dad’s sister, Charlotte.  Their three kids are my cousins.  I only met Uncle Joe once, during my one and only visit to Michigan in the 1960s.[2] I was very young and don’t remember much.  What I do remember about my Uncle Joe:

1) He was as bald as a billiard ball

2) He wore glasses and seemed as tall as a giant (everyone looks like a giant when you’re six years old)

3) He was always smiling or laughing

4) The smells from the Olivieri kitchen were divine, and

5) there was something about… smoking a cigar.

If only I’d taken better notes!

Fortunately, Uncle Joe did.  What I found in that dusty manila envelope was nearly one hundred single-spaced, type-written pages of his unpublished memoirs.  The editor in me danced a jig.  A word about that is in order.

When working on an edit, I usually warm up the ‘ole red pen or pencil, roll up my sleeves and bleed red ink all over dangling participles, misplaced modifiers, incorrect usage and the like.   It may sound corny, but I just couldn’t do it this time.  The closest I got was adding “That’s Amore!” to the title, because it seemed appropriate and a good fit.  But there was something about holding my uncle’s manuscript that was like holding his hand.  I couldn’t bear to slash any more red ink anywhere.[3] It seemed sacrilegious.  So I refrained.  The editing and keyboarding process are “speeding” along like a gimpy snail on crutches mired in a molasses factory, but it seems the respectful thing to do.  It also means only minor edits and reformatting for publication by yours truly.

My Uncle Joe passed away several years ago.  My Aunt Charlotte continues to reside in Michigan.  Unfortunately, the manuscript is undated.  Although there is no way of pinpointing its date of origin, the paper and type font used suggest it was printed off a 1980s-vintage Macintosh computer.  Whatever the date or age of the manuscript, I’m working on wrapping up my Uncle Joe’s story, in his words.  Que bella!


[1] I am still kicking myself for not giving this manuscript more attention sooner.  But  as they say, “better late than never.”

[2] I’d give you an exact date if I could, but I can’t remember it.  Possibly 1967.

[3] In truth, Joe’s original manuscript is so well-written that the editorial attention required is minimal.

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Next up: Seven Deadly Social Media Sins