Wednesday, July 22, 2020

Cooking With Author Angela Caudle



Today I welcome Angela Caudle to the Patchwork Quilt Blog for another Cooking With Authors segment. She has a new book out and a recipe for us.

Take it away, Angela!

Angela: Cheesy Chicken Enchiladas is a family favorite meal in my house and gives our family a sense of comfort. My daughter is in the U.S. Air Force and she asks for this meal when we visit each other. The recipe is easy as 1,2,3!

Cheesy Chicken Enchiladas

Ingredients:
Chicken Breast
1 can of tomato sauce (8oz)
Salt
Pepper
Sugar
1 Package of McCormick Enchilada seasoning
Mexican Shredded Cheese
Flour Tortilla Shells
Olive Oil

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Cook chicken breast thoroughly with olive oil, salt and pepper in a pan. Add tomato sauce, the package of McCormick Enchilada seasoning, a teaspoon of sugar (optional), 1/2 teaspoon of salt and pepper (optional) in a medium-size saucepan. Whisk over medium or low heat until sauce is not lumpy for about 5 minutes. Pour tomato sauce over cooked chicken and stir over medium heat for about 3 to 5 min. Add chicken and sauce mixture to flour tortilla shells and wrap. Place in a baking dish, cover with Mexican shredded cheese, bake for about 10 minutes. Serve with sour cream and Mexican rice. Enjoy!




About the Book
This book is a collection of parables that will connect God’s word to everyday life experiences through five expressions; praise, position, perception, patience, and protection.

Our ability to make connections can involve deeply rooted experiences that help guide us through our life’s journey. Although not all experiences are good, the world is filled with expressions of God’s elegance, beauty, strength, power, and wrath. In the Bible, God used fire, water, wind, war, peace, and above all, love to express His love for us.

The Essence of His Expression is a collection of my private, personal and public experiences that the Holy Spirit cultivated over the course of many years with a desire to help others see and hear God in their own experiences.

About the Author
Angela Caudle is a graduate from North Carolina Wesleyan College with a Bachelor of Arts degree in Sociology. She received her Master of Education degree from Strayer University with a concentration in Educational Management. As a Special Education teacher for over fifteen years, she is committed to ensuring student growth through data-driven strategies and interventions. Writing is her passion and inspiring others is her commitment. She has contributed to community-based writing projects and enjoys blogging. She has gifted her gift to others through her very first book entitled: The Essence of His Expression.

Get a copy of The Essence of His Expression
Visit Angela’s website for more information and to purchase your copy.

Be part of Angela's upcoming book launch! I'll be there. Find out more at her website.


Sunday, July 12, 2020

Always Keep Good Tissues Around



The other day I was optimist as I worked on a different slant to my memoir, deciding instead of making it so Daniel-and-me-centered, I could make it more God-centered. I even thought that after twenty-three years, I could make the portion about intense grieving less fierce, because, after all, twenty-three years since Daniel's death has gone by. I wasn't that once-upon-a-time young mother who couldn't help but get nostalgic and cry over a grilled cheese sandwich or a little yellow raincoat with a frog on the pocket. I was not that mama who kept asking God "WHY?" I had adjusted.

And then today came along. This afternoon I spent time online looking for a mountain getaway for Carl, the boxer-dog Levi, and me. Church friends seemed to all be taking trips to the mountains and then when a neighbor walked by (keeping over 6-feet apart) telling us her plans for a family trip away, I thought it was time to convince Carl of my intentions. I'd been tinkering with the idea that Carl and I could head up to the North Carolina mountains and have a break from our home business. I could write the great American memoir and Carl could play with his new drone. Levi could gnaw on a bone.

Most of the listings on VRBO had their COVID-19 deep cleaning statements. There were paragraphs about how they adhered to the CDC guidelines on cleaning, using an EPA-approved disinfectant between customers. That sounded super safe to me.

Carl's never been to Asheville, and while the Biltmore isn't open, I figured that we could venture around that artsy city. I dived into looking at rental cabins, at their porches that overlooked mountain views, the nearby streams, even photos of black bears. And that was when the nice little planning of a getaway went into full flash-back. I was surprised that it took no effort at all. It was October 1996: I was in a rustic bungalow in the Banner Elk region with three of my kids and their father. Four-year-old bald-headed Daniel, in a blue T-shirt that covered the catheter in his back, was with Rachel by a stream. They were laughing together, enjoying the water running over their toes. With that scene in my mind, I was no longer excited about a mountain adventure; sadness swept over me.


The churning in my stomach went up towards my heart. I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat. I didn't have to think about if I were in a movie what music would be playing. As tears hit my eyes, the Jazz playlist I had on played an instrumental version of Eric Clapton's Tears in Heaven. As if it knew what I was going through and what that song does to me. I closed all the browser windows. Goodbye to the cute cabins with crisp mountain ranges surrounding them. So long to imaging myself on a porch swing with a morning cup of Earl Grey.

I thought I could be normal. I thought I could plan like my friends and neighbor do. I called myself a fool for thinking that I could slip into suddenly being unbereaved, especially at this time of year. Daniel's birthday is next month. I always say you could be on a deserted island without a tangible calendar and yet feel that pang in your heart and throat as your child's birth date approached. There's no hiding from it. We mothers know these things.

So for those who wonder how we mamas go from happy to sad in the click of a mouse, this is one way it can happen. We are bee-bopping along, content, going to plan something or do something like normal folk do. And then, that trigger --- a song, a word, a memory --- reminds us that ever since our child died, we lost the ability to be considered normal. We function at a different level and the truth is that it often brings tears, loneliness, and isolation. We might be in a room filled with merry people and we might even have a smile on our face, and then, as quick as a lightning bug flutters across a summer lawn, we are no longer one of the merry.

Eventually Tears In Heaven reached its end. A happier song filled the room. But my heart and mind had not caught up to a mellow-Sunday-afternoon feeling again.

What saved me is knowing that I could write the scenario I had just experienced and post it here on my blog. I could share what had happened to me via social media and others would read and go, "Ah, yeah. I know." And that would suffice. Knowing that I am not alone and that many mothers can relate to this breach of normalcy somehow makes me feel less lonely.

I will get back to searching for a mountain place to rent. But first let me understand who I am and never be surprised at how even after twenty-three years I can still be caught off guard by tears. Parental bereavement with all its hidden characteristics never goes away. We just learn how to adapt to living with it.

Perhaps that's why my motto is: Always keep good tissues around.



Friday, June 26, 2020

The Simple Quiet: Finding Sanctuary in a Broken World




“God doesn’t want something from us, He simply wants us.” - C.S. Lewis


In a noisy world it’s easy to become overwhelmed.

The clamor of the opinions of others consumed me. I read a variety of thoughts and views on current political, racial, and Covid-19 events and I couldn’t seem to stop. Determined to learn and understand, I opened newspapers and listened to YouTube videos. I felt like a soda bottle about to split at the seams. Something in my spirit, perhaps it was the Holy Spirit, let me know that I needed help. God’s voice was what I craved, but other opinions were louder.

Yesterday I got in my Jeep and drove. I didn’t stop for coffee at the little convenience store along the way. I was eager to get to Markham Memorial Gardens, a cemetery on the corner of Durham and Orange counties. I knew that physically going to this location would bring peace to my soul.

However, when my four-year-old son Daniel first died, the cemetery held no peace. It was my valley of anguish. I hated standing at his small gravestone because that stone meant Daniel was gone from life with us. Having Daniel's name, birth, and death dates etched on the marker gave me a reason to have to be there. And I didn't want a reason to have to stand with tears sliding off my chin and a hole in my heart.

Somewhere in the early months of grief, I wrote a poem at the cemetery. It would win no awards, but it was about how I knew that Daniel was alive in Heaven with Jesus. That truth rejuvenated me. It made me smile.


As my family and I continued to come to the cemetery, which we named Daniel’s Place, a strange thing happened. I felt at home among the epitaphs and plastic bouquets. We went to the cemetery and celebrated Daniel’s birthdays by lifting helium balloons with love notes into the August sky. We ate watermelon slices because watermelon had been his favorite. We brought decorative pinwheels to place at his marker. We spread blankets and towels and devoured sandwiches. We shared Daniel stories. My children have grown up with me as we have made our pilgrimages to the cemetery to honor the memory of a boy who loved Toy Story, Cocoa Puffs, and stickers from nurses at the hospital.

If the cemetery had a growth chart you could see how I’ve grown from a newly-bereaved mom of thirty-six to a seasoned veteran of fifty-nine. The cemetery has played a large role in both my grief and my faith walk. While there, I pray, I sing, I read the psalms. I listen to the chatter of birds and watch the clouds. Sometimes I sit on Daniel's Thomas the Tank Engine towel under the massive oak by his grave, sip coffee, and write my own psalms. Some days my words are filled with woe, and other days, they are sentiments of happy praise.

As I walk the grounds and say hello to graves belonging to people I have never met, Daniel's Place reminds me of the brevity of life on earth. Our days are numbered and only God knows when our last breath will be. The cemetery makes me think about what is important and how I want to live the rest of my days.

When I turned into Markham Memorial Gardens yesterday, immediate emotion swept over me. The tears that blinded my vision were unexpected. I’m no stranger to tears; I’ve cried at the sloping grassy knolls surrounded by oaks plenty of times. I’ve even been known to wail. But I had never felt tears like these. I analyzed them. (Yes, I do label my tears!) The tears that morning stemmed from a pilgrimage that began twenty-three years ago when I wanted nothing to do with this burial spot — to the past decade — when I choose to come because I'd discovered a sanctuary of holy calm. The cemetery encourages me to recite the first verse of Psalm 61: “O God, you are my God, earnestly I seek you; my soul thirsts for you, my body longs for you, in a dry and weary land where there is no water. I have seen you in the sanctuary and beheld your power and your glory. Because your love is better than life, my lips will glorify you.”




Your place of simple quiet might not be a cemetery. Perhaps it's at a park bench or a chair in your back yard. Maybe you are one of those who has a beautiful garden. Wherever you find that space where you go for the purpose of seeking God, go there. Sit down. Stretch your legs. Close your eyes. Breathe in. Take care of you. Take care of the precious life you have been given. Sometimes it's necessary to physically travel to a spot — like a park bench or river bank — where you can connect with God. When you arrive there, you know that pulling yourself out of your usual day-to-day surroundings is life-giving.

In a world vying for our attention, we need to make time to pause. Remember who God is and who we are. Our minds are confused, but God is peace. Our hearts are heavy, but he promises to ease the burden. In the sanctuary of the cemetery I walk among the graves barefoot because like Moses, I feel God’s holiness. I come with brokenness and pain, a fragile creature. He feeds me with forgiveness, hope, and healing, as only he can do.

When I left Daniel’s Place yesterday, I was aware of the need I have in a noisy world to cling to the righteous hand of God. "So do not fear,” God says, “for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand." (Isaiah 41:10)



Thursday, June 11, 2020

Cooking With Author Carole Brown




Today we welcome Carole Brown to our Cooking with Authors segment. Carole has a new novel out. She also has a recipe for us.

Hello, Carole! Tell us about your recipe, then about your new novel Caleb's Destiny, and about you.


Carole: Mr. Michael in Caleb's Destiny makes a mean egg omelet that Destiny really enjoys. If you love omelets, give this one a try!

Egg Omelet Supreme Recipe

Ingredients for one person (or maybe two if you're light eaters):
2 fresh eggs
1-2 tablespoons of Almond Silk sweet milk
Vegetables: your choice
Meat: sausage, bacon, or steak: your choice
Cheese: (your choice)
Seasonings: (salt, pepper, onion powder, or whatever you like). Feel free to add a drop of Worcestershire sauce or steak sauce, if that is to your taste.

cooking spray oil/butter
real butter




How to make this omelet for one person:

1. Cook your chosen meat until done. Crumble bacon or sausage. Cut steak into small pieces.
2. Chop vegetables into bite size, or smaller, pieces. (I like a few peppers, a touch of green onion, greens like broccoli, spinach, etc or whatever you like).
3. Whisk seasoned fresh eggs and approximately 2-4 tablespoons of Almond Silk sweet milk together. Stir in your vegetables and meat.
4. Spray iron skillet with butter-flavored spray, or use real butter, my preference, and heat between a low to medium fire (I like to take it slow so the skillet won't get too hot, causing the eggs to get too brown.) Turn down the temperature if it seems too hot.
5. Pour mixture into skillet. Keep a close eye on the eggs and when they seem done enough to flip, then do so.
6. Sprinkle cheese on top. When done to suit your taste, turn off heat, fold into halves and slide onto your plate.

Serve with real buttered toast (your choice of bread) fried hash browns, and fruit. Feel free to adjust the recipe. Add salsa or other condiments of your choice.

Enjoy!


Caleb's Destiny

Mr. Michael, Destiny Rose McCulloch, and Hunter have a mysterious history. Why were three fathers, all business partners, murdered under suspicious circumstances while on their quest to find gold?

Hunter is determined to protect his boss and the precocious young lady who he suspects holds a key answer to his questions.

Mr. Michael wants only to be left alone to attend to his property, but what can he do when Destiny refuses to leave and captures the heart of every one of his employees?

Destiny almost forgets her quest when she falls in love with Mr. Michael's ranch and all the people there. And then Mr. Michael is much too alluring to ignore. The preacher man back east where she took her schooling tried to claim her heart, but the longer she stays the less she can remember him. She only came west to find a little boy she knew years ago. A little boy all grown up by now...unless, of course, he's dead.

Three children, connected through tragedy and separated by time, are fated to reunite and re-right some powerful wrongs.


Get a copy of Caleb's Destiny on Amazon.


About Carole

Besides being a member and active participant of many writing groups, Carole enjoys mentoring beginning writers. She loves to weave suspense and tough topics into her books, along with a touch of romance and whimsy, and is always on the lookout for outstanding titles and catchy ideas. She and her husband have ministered and counseled across the country. Together, they enjoy their grandsons, traveling, gardening, good food, the simple life, and did she mention their grandsons?

Connect with Carole
Her blog
Facebook
Twitter

Tuesday, May 19, 2020

During Coronavirus Embrace Now


My son Daniel stands at the shore of the Atlantic Ocean with his arms spread behind his back and smiles into the June sun.

With beaches closed due to the Coronavirus, this is not a recent event. It was over two decades ago when we went to the beach as a family and I took the photo that I have since placed into a burnt-maroon frame. When I kiss his face though the acrylic, I know that many see the photo as a three-year-old boy enjoying a day at the beach. But it symbolizes more for me. It’s a reminder to live every day as though it is all you have.

When the photo was taken, our family was trying to do something familiar in a time when nothing felt normal. Less than two weeks earlier we’d been told the tumor in Daniel’s neck was malignant. My son went through tests, two surgeries—one to implant a double-lumen catheter— and a week of chemo. He lost his hair on the trip to the beach; it came out in clumps on the van’s back seat. “It’s sad, isn’t it?” his five-year-old sister said. “Isn’t it just so sad?”

Just the other day during the Coronavirus lockdown, we celebrated my youngest child’s 23rd birthday. Our family tradition is to go to Red Robin for birthday dinners. This week we had to adapt to something new. At a table in front of the restaurant, my husband, wearing a face mask, ordered our meals. We waited in our cars until the waitress signaled our food was ready. With meals in tow, my three kids and my eldest’s boyfriend, my husband and I, drove in our cars to a vacant parking lot in the shopping complex. I sat on a towel on the curb to eat my salad. The others sat and stood at socially-acceptable distances and consumed burgers and fries.

It was wonderful to see my adult children and hear their stories of how they are coping and adjusting to this season of strange. The restaurant where Ben worked closed, so he was laid off in March. The birthday daughter, Liz, teaches her high school students online. My daughter Rachel and her boyfriend have had an uptick in their home repair and remodeling business. “People are looking at the homes they’re in all day and see what needs to be improved,” the boyfriend said.

After we ate, we sang happy birthday. We played music on my husband’s phone and my daughters danced the Macarena. As the sun set and we said our good-byes, giving each other virtual hugs, I smiled. This was by no means an ideal dinner out, but it was all we had.

As we parted, I didn’t say, “Next year it will be better.” I did not add, “Next year we can be back inside Red Robin and enjoy a meal around a table with chairs.” I didn’t voice any of that because I do not know what next year will hold. Days before Christmas 1996, Daniel spiked a fever and we took him to the emergency room. We spent Christmas day in the hospital with him. “Next Christmas,” I said as we ate ham from the hospital cafeteria, “he’ll be finished with his protocol. We’ll all be home for Christmas then. We’ll be a normal family again.”

Daniel’s death crushed the hope that the following Christmas would be better. He contracted a staph infection at the end of January and died in February. His absence is a hole in our hearts.

In the photo at the beach, Daniel wears a cap to cover his bald head. His hands are full of sand and shells. He’s standing by the fierce waves but he looks the other way, in the direction of the sun, that smile on his face. My boy is not fearful. His expression shows that he’s happy to be at a place he loves with his family.

In the midst of lockdown we may think we want this isolation to end and for things to get back to normal. Yet the days in shelter-in-place hold value. We’ve traded a day of our lives for each one. For better or worse, nothing will be the same again. You might think things are difficult, but take a look at what you do have whether it is children, a spouse, friends, or parents. Maybe you are lucky enough to have them all, even if they are miles away.

Here and now, this is the time to stand with your arms spread out, your hands filled with life and smile into the sun.

Another bereaved parent said it best."Life is short, break the rules [but I bet he’d expect us to follow the COVID-19 regulations], forgive quickly, kiss slowly, love truly, laugh uncontrollably, and never regret anything that made you smile.” (Mark Twain)

Monday, May 11, 2020

What Do Mamas Really Need?




Don't ask me what I had for lunch Friday or when the last time was that I baked a chocolate cake, but ask me about that Mother's Day 1997 and I will recall specific details. Like much about the grieving life, we mothers remember significant dates and places as though they occurred yesterday.

Twenty-three years ago we were at my cousin Amy's for a family gathering to celebrate moms. I'd given birth twelve days before to my fourth child. I was sleep-deprived and adapting to my new daughter who enjoyed challenging me with her tears. To be fair, I'm sure that I challenged her with my bouts of crying too.

At the gathering were cousins, an aunt, and my grandma. My mother, who had flown in from mission work in Japan to help my husband and me, was among us. On a normal Mother's Day I would have relished the family time, but on that particular day I struggled with everything. Three months earlier I'd become something no mom wants to be----bereaved.

Six-year-old Rachel, my eldest, made a card with a lot of flower drawings and included all four of my children's names. From my relatives, I received tight hugs that made me tear up.

That first Mother's Day without Daniel, I needed for all my children to be acknowledged. Even though he was not physically with us, I wanted the assurance that Daniel had not and would not be forgotten by others. I was navigating a new journey named Bereavement and I had to find out how I would continue to carry the memories of him with me.

Mothers need all of their children to be acknowledged. Not just the one that is the smartest or the one who wins the awards in sports or that child who is talented at playing the trumpet. Teach me how to look at each of my children and treasure their inner beauty, vitality, and quirks. Ask about Daniel even though he is not seated around the table.

And then moms need to be acknowledged for who we are---sacrificial, loving, warriors for truth, fighters, expectant, hopeful, forgiving, and with that sixth sense that knows (usually) when we are being lied to by one of our offspring.

We mothers worry over our children's health and grades and futures. We hold onto guilt when we feel we could have prevented something from happening that caused our child pain or suffering. "Right there," my sister-in-law said as she was giving me a back massage years ago when my children were small. She ran her fingers over my shoulders and into that space between them. "This is where mothers carry the weight of the world."

What do mamas really want? It varies from expensive perfume to a strong cup of good tea. Time alone to catch our breath to wanting to know about our child's latest craze.

But besides the frilly stuff or the perfume, dinners out, flowers, handmade cards, and tea, what do mamas need most of all? Gratitude. A sincere thank you works well today. Actually, any day, really. Moms crave the reassurance that even in their inability to possess superpowers, they are doing their best.

Thank you, moms, young, old, bereaved----for being YOU.







Sunday, April 26, 2020

Write Through COVID-19---A Free Online Writing Workshop




Why don't you pick up your pen and write?

I'm a big believer in writing for healing, health, and hope. My online writing workshops, as well as the courses I offer at brick and mortar buildings, have those attributes.

During this season of unsettling circumstances, writing is needed. Expressive writing and journaling are what got me through each day after the death of my son. For the past 23 years since his death, I have been an advocate for writing through heartache. Writing out those muddled thoughts and feelings provides clarity and calm.

The workshop I am offering now is tailored to meet your at-home needs. In other words, once you sign up for the course, you can start right away working on it at your own pace. Just make sure you have a trusty pen and paper. Sign up for the free Write Through COVID-19 Workshop by going to this link.

Yes, it's free!

Tuesday, April 14, 2020

Cooking With Author Susan Mathis





Alice: Today I welcome Susan Mathis, who has been a guest here before. So glad to have you back, Susan. I see that you have a new novel out and a recipe for us.

Susan: Want to know where that yummy orange condiment comes from? From the Thousand Islands, between the United States and Canada in the St. Lawrence River, where my novels are set. Here’s an excerpt from Devyn’s Dilemma, my newest novel, that explains:

“What is this sauce, Mother?” Marian smacked her lips as she savored the orange condiment.

“It’s called Thousand Islands Dressing, my dear. Isn’t it yummy?”

Marjorie chimed in. “Isn’t that just the loveliest idea, Mother?”

Howard took a hearty mouthful and nodded. “It’s quite good. Where did it come from?”

Mr. Bourne answered. “It’s a great story, really. Remember George Boldt, who built Boldt Castle on Heart Island near Alexandria Bay?”

Howard nodded. “Of course, Daddy. It nearly rivals The Towers. Nearly.”

The entire group chuckled, and Mr. Bourne continued. “Yes, well, as you know, he used to manage the prestigious Waldorf-Astoria Hotel in New York City. His friend and the maitre d’hotel, an Oscar Tschirky, accompanied Mr. Boldt to the castle several times. Once, while on the Boldt’s yacht, Oscar found out the crew had left the salad dressing behind, so he concocted this one. Boldt liked it so well that he named it ‘Thousand Islands Dressing’ and began serving it in all his hotels. Since then, it’s become quite popular.”

Now, whenever you enjoy this dressing, you know—the rest of the story!

Thousand Island Dressing

1 cup mayonnaise
1/8 cup ketchup
1 hard-boiled egg, finely chopped
1 tbs onion, finely chopped
1 tbs green pepper, finely chopped
1 tbs red bell pepper, finely chopped
1 ts. parsley, finely chopped
1 ts. scallions, finely chopped

Mix all ingredients together and chill to blend flavors.


Check out Devyn’s Dilemma, Book 2 of the Thousand Islands Gilded Age series!

Devyn McKenna is forced to work in the Towers on Dark Island, one of the enchanting Thousand Islands. But when Devyn finds herself in service to the wealthy Frederick Bourne family, her life takes an unexpected turn.
Brice McBride is Mr. Bourne’s valet as well as the occasional tour guide and under butler. Brice tries to help the mysterious Devyn find peace and love in her new world, but she can’t seem to stay out of trouble—especially when she’s accused of stealing Bourne’s money for Vanderbilt’s NYC subway expansion.



About Susan:
Susan G Mathis is an award-winning, multi-published author of stories set in the beautiful Thousand Islands, her childhood stomping ground in upstate NY. Her first two books of The Thousand Islands Gilded Age series, Devyn’s Dilemma and Katelyn’s Choice are available now, and she’s working on book three. The Fabric of Hope: An Irish Family Legacy, Christmas Charity, and Sara’s Surprise are also available. Visit her website for more.

Susan is also a published author of two premarital books with her husband, Dale, two children's picture books, stories in a dozen compilations, and hundreds of published articles. Susan makes her home in Colorado Springs, enjoys traveling globally with her wonderful husband, Dale, and relishes each time she gets to see or Skype with her four granddaughters.

Where you can find Susan:
Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas
Amazon
Website
Facebook
Twitter
Instagram
Pinterest
Goodreads


Alice: Thanks, Susan! It was nice having you as our guest today on Cooking With Authors!


Saturday, April 11, 2020

10 Tips for Writing a Memoir that Resonates With Readers: Guest Post



These days, as COVID-19 sweeps the globe, our days seem to be melting into an undifferentiated fog of worry and waiting. Still, this season of fear can be the perfect time to think back on the stories that make us who we are.

It might seem strange, looking to the past to make sense of a disorienting present and an uncertain future. But it can help us remember our resilience and capacity for joy. In the end, it’s our old triumphs (and traumas) that have given us the resources to weather this new terror.

Dig deeply enough, and you might find yourself excavating a powerful story from the material in your memory, a narrative even you couldn’t discern before. Why not fashion that story into a memoir and share it with the world? Here are ten tips for writing a memoir that resonates with readers — because we could all use a nourishing dose of inspiration right now.
1. Start in the middle
A memoir isn’t an autobiography. You’re not beholden to the tyranny of chronology, so you shouldn’t feel obligated to start at the very beginning. The occasional memoir might open with an exhaustive account of the author’s birth. But most of our origin stories aren’t very gripping.

Feel free to skip ahead to the interesting parts, lest you lose your readers as they yawn their way through your earliest hours. Instead, start in the middle with a vivid scene that promises to stick in their memory. Speaking of which….
2. Write in scenes
You might be writing nonfiction, but the fruit of your labors will bear a striking resemblance to a novel. It may sound strange, but a strong memoir has more in common, stylistically and structurally, with an epic fantasy than with a history textbook.

Memoirs, like novels, are written in scenes — not inert streams of fact, but vivid set-pieces animated by concrete details and immediate action. Instead of telling your readers about what you experienced, show them your most powerful experiences in real time. Set the scene with description and bring the people involved on-stage as characters, with gestures to make and lines to speak.

3. Treat the people in your memoir as autonomous characters
Fiction writers invest a lot into making sure their heroes and villains read like real people, but memoirists aren’t exempt from the work of character development. Because the people populating your memoir have real-life analogues, you don’t have to craft their characterization out of whole cloth — you can rely on memory, observation, and even interviews to refine their physical descriptions and tease out their motives.

The key is to make sure the “characters” in your memoir are as finely drawn as any literary characters — that they behave like people instead of plot devices in your story. The reader should be able to imagine them living their lives off the page, not winking out of existence the second they leave your side.
4. Show emotional growth
Of course the most important character you’ll be developing is the protagonist — you. Most readers want their protagonists to emerge from the other side of the narrative somehow changed by their experiences. Whether they’re more confident and independent or more selfless and serene, that sense of evolution makes the reading experience feel worthwhile.

As you write your memoir, make sure you’ve sketched out an arc for your growth as a character. Can you pinpoint how you’ve changed — and link that transformation to the experiences you write about?
5. Show off your imperfections
Turning yourself into a compelling protagonist is an act of radical vulnerability. You’re allowing readers an unflinching glimpse into your character — warts and all.

Even the most self-aware memoirist can find themselves lapsing into PR mode, quietly shaping their account of events to justify a mistake or airbrush a character flaw. Watch out for those self-aggrandizing tendencies as you write, and remember: memoir readers don’t want to read about saints. Your imperfections will make them root for you all the more.
6. Arrange events according to a clear narrative arc
Shaping your characterization around an arc of emotional growth will give your memoir a crucial sense of dynamism. By the same token, the individual scenes you write should build on each other in a way that suggests the story you’re telling is going somewhere.

To put it differently, your memoir should have a plot. That means the scenes you write can’t just shine individually — they have to make sense together, bound by a clear causal logic and a sense of change over time.
7. Don’t let your message overshadow your story
As your memoir comes together, you’ll continue to grapple with what inspired you to tell your story in the first place. Your motivations might evolve over the writing process, as long-buried memories emerge, and once-insignificant pieces of your past take on a breathtaking new clarity. But maybe there’s an impetus you’ll carry with you from the beginning: a message you need to get across.

Let that message seep into your writing. But don’t allow it overtake the story you’re telling, replacing evocative detail with sloganeering. Say you want to demonstrate, for instance, that grief can’t be rushed. You don’t want to fill each chapter with too many point-blank statements to that effect. Instead, craft scenes that show what happened when you tried to “progress” through your grief according to a normative timeline rather than listening to your own needs.
8. Tell all the truth but tell it slant
You might remember James Frey, whose Oprah-touted memoir turned out to be, upon extensive fact-checking, a novel. The revelation that he fabricated his haunting account of addiction ignited a media firestorm. Memoirists have presumably been on their best behavior ever since.

Needless to say, pulling a Frey is a non-starter. But that doesn’t mean you need to sacrifice the emotional truth of your story on the altar of newsprint facticity. Take inspiration from the ever-wise Emily Dickinson, who spoke of telling the truth at a slant.

In practical terms, that means you can reconstruct dialogue you can’t remember word-for-word, and cut out details that bog down your narrative. Just don’t make up events with the freewheeling panache of a fantasist.
9. Fact-check yourself
This tip might sound like it contradicts the last point, but it’s crucial to ensuring that minor memory lapses don’t jolt your readers out of your story. Say you write about singing along to Christina Aguilera’s “Beautiful” on your iPod as you make nachos, your cat winding furry figure-eights around your feet and your TV humming in the background. You look up to check if your oven is preheated, but the TV screen catches your eye: you see smoke billowing off the Twin Towers as the news breaks on 9-11.

This could be a striking scene — ordinary domestic joys pierced by national tragedy. But some of your readers may remember that “Beautiful” came out a year after 9-11. Suddenly they’re closing your book to confirm their suspicions on Wikipedia.

To make sure you don’t lose your readers at a pivotal point, verify any of the details that can be verified. Memory plays tricks on us all, but you can outsmart it with some careful research.
10. Don’t try to sound like anyone else
We all know most celebrity memoirs are ghostwritten. But their outsourced tell-alls only work because the hired pens involved manage to capture this politician’s folksy charisma or that actress’s wry charm.

If you don’t opt for the red carpet route and instead write your own memoir, it’s important to hang onto your greatest asset: your inimitable literary voice. If you blindfold your best friend and read your memoir aloud through a voice changer, they should still recognize you.

Allow room for the expressions that naturally flavor your speech, and above all, don’t try to sound like someone you’re not. If you find yourself reaching for haute-literary language that feels unnatural, or dumbing down your prose to sound more accessible, give yourself permission to stop. No one else, after all, can tell your story. And it should sound like it’s coming from you.

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Lucia is a writer with Reedsy, a marketplace that connects self-publishing authors with the book world’s best editors, illustrators, and book marketers. In Lucia’s spare time, she enjoys drinking iced coffee and reading comedienne memoirs.

Thursday, March 26, 2020

Advice from a long-lost journal






There it was, a journal from years back when I had discovered the power of writing through turmoil. My son had died and I had bottled-up emotions, wild thoughts, and just enough anger to propel me into the pages of a notebook with flowers on the cover.

Later I shared the impact writing had on me for clarity and calm when I taught writing workshops:

“Just write. Just find a word and let it be the one to write about. Or find two and string them together.” That was what I told my classes, my students. “A word might come to you in a song or conversation. Take its hand and start. No one has to see what you write in your notebook. You don’t have to read your work. You don’t have to share it with anyone. It is not like the only cookie or the last cookie in the jar and you have to let those around the table have a nibble. This is your work. This belongs to you alone.

“It is your lifeline, your therapy. And it is cheap. It will comfort you, your own words will heal you. Just keep writing and don’t let go. Write until your hand cramps and if you haven’t finished getting it all out there, write with that cramp. Keep unloading, the paper can handle it. Your heart has been carrying the heavy ache for so long, share it with the pages. Nothing is too hard or heavy for a piece of paper to absorb.”




In this season of COVID-19 when your emotions might be flying around the rooms of your house as you practice social distancing and stay at home procedures, make friends with a journal and a pen. Just start with a word and keep going. As they say at Outback Steakhouse---No rules, just right!


What does journaling do for you?

*Gives you a safe place to write your thoughts
*Allows you to unleash your hurts, worries, and fears
*Teaches you about yourself
*Shows you how you handle your joys and woes
*Helps you solve many of your problems


For more inspiration, check out this writing video created for me. Turn up your speakers; this video is made to inspire.





Tuesday, March 17, 2020

In the Time of Coronavirus - A Time to Soul Search




Panic. Fear. Uncertainty. Disbelief. Sorrow. Control-less.

In this historical era of COVID-19, how are you affected? As you listen to the news reports that change every hour, what have you become?

A few years after my son died (those of you who know me, know that Daniel's death will always be my Ground Zero), I wrote a poem about becoming. I was not who I used to be when he was by my side laughing with me and eating a bowl of Cocoa Puffs. In bereavement, I was morphing into something new---like that caterpillar when he turns into a butterfly. It didn't feel pretty. There were days of loneliness, wondering who my friends were, how I would make it to the next day. One foot in front of the other was a major task. I cried so much that my eyes stayed puffy and red. I wanted to fist-punch those who said trite things. I hated who I was.

What are you doing during this fearful season of your life?

Some people are hoarding toilet paper. We laugh, but as I stared at the empty shelves where toilet paper has always been at my local Harris-Teeter, I didn't feel like laughing. When the disgust left me, the deeper feeling was a sadness toward humanity. Because to me hoarding toilet paper (of all things!) shows me that people are not only fearful, but trying. They are trying to gain some control of a control-less situation. We are told to stay home, wash our hands, keep away from crowds, and yet, all of that sounds too simple and easy. Can't we do more? We're smart, certainly there's more we can do to make this virus go away or to try to preserve some feeling of security. "I can't hug anyone, I can't go on vacation, I can't go to work (or I've lost my job), but, hey, I can have enough toilet paper. So take that, you nasty Coronavirus."


When Daniel died, I wanted to figure out why. Why had he died? Why hadn't he been miraculously saved? Why him? He had cancer, but other children with neuroblastoma lived. Then we learned from the autopsy that he was cancer-free. It was the first we had heard that news. He'd been through eight months of treatments and we'd never heard cancer-free until the autopsy report. I feared I had missed a cue. He was supposed to have lived and I messed up.

Admitting that I had no control was a long process. When we think that we have boundless control of our lives and those around us, we are living a myth.

Hoarding toilet paper, hand sanitizer and antibacterial wipes is a way of trying to gain control in a chaotic era.

So what to do you want to become? How do you want to get out of your cocoon and emerge into a free-floating butterfly?

Bereavement opened the door for me to explore things I had never done much of before. In the midst of pain and suffering, I discovered that I was becoming a woman who shed spiritual platitudes ("God won't give you more than you can handle", etc.) and also someone who dispelled the myth that life is all under my control.

What can you do during this time of uncertainty?

* Write -- a poem, that short story that's been playing around in your mind, that song, that letter to a friend
* Read --- Dust off that copy of To Kill A Mockingbird or A Tale of Two Cities
* Pray --- Ask God to show you how you can love others around you and how you can surrender your life to him (good luck with that one, it is a daily task)
* Nurture friendships --- but be sure to stand at least six-feet apart
* Create --- a garden, a new board game, a speech, a blog post, a recipe
* Donate ---- food or money to a charity

Let this be the season to contribute something YOU into the world besides anxiety and fear.

The virus has affected the globe. It's a vicious thing.

When we get beyond the virus, however long that will take, and are able to resume our more normal lives, what will we have become?

Will you be wiser? More compassionate? Less selfish? Will you be someone who lives out gratitude?

Will you be the person you want to be?

Start now.







Thursday, March 12, 2020

Cooking With Author Norma Gail



I welcome author Norma Gail today on my Cooking with Authors portion of my blog. Norma has a recipe for us and a new book coming out. Read on to learn more!


New Mexican Green Chili Stew

4 lbs. of lean beef stew meat, diced (may use pork)
4 cloves of garlic, minced
1 large onion, medium chopped
1-2 lbs. of potatoes, chopped
1 lb. of carrots, sliced
2 16 oz. cans of diced tomatoes with liquid
2 16 oz. cans of pinto beans with liquid
24 oz. of roasted green chili, diced – either canned or frozen (as mild or hot as you like)
Water to cover

Coat meat with flour and brown with garlic and onion. Mix all ingredients together in a large crockpot or stew pot on stove. Add water to the preferred consistency. Add salt and pepper to taste. Cook all day until meat, potatoes, and carrots are tender.

Serve with warm flour tortillas with butter and honey, bread, or sopapillas. Enjoy!





Thanks for that recipe, Norma. Sounds like something I will have to try. Next tell us about your upcoming novel.


Within Golden Bands – A Home for My Heart Book 2 is the sequel to my 2014 release, Land of My Dreams – A Home for My Heart. The first book is the story of Bonny Bryant, an American college professor, who accepts a job at a small Christian college in Scotland to escape heartbreak and loss. Love is the last thing on her mind when she meets fellow professor and sheep farmer, Kieran MacDonell. Together, they discover that the greatest blessings come when you leave the familiar behind and take a step of faith.

In Within Golden Bands, newly married Bonny MacDonell finds the transition from American college professor to Scottish sheep farmer’s wife more difficult than she expected. Though her husband says he has accepted her infertility, she fears his reaction when her miracle pregnancy ends in a devastating miscarriage. However, Kieran never shows up at the hospital. When found, he is beaten and unconscious. The only memory of his attacker is the words, “Get off my land.” As a result, his parents reveal a family secret involving an altered deed and missing aunt. Reeling from the threat to her husband and the loss of her child, Bonny struggles with depression.

As Kieran's elusive attacker stalks the family, threatening their safety, the couple is forced to hire bodyguards. Bonny still longs to be a mother but Kieran fears his deep-seated opposition to adoption will drive them apart. Are faith and love strong enough to keep their fledgling marriage on solid ground? Will they choose to trust God when his ways are impossible to fathom?


Thanks for joining me at my blog, Norma.


~*~*~*~
Norma Gail writes Fiction to Refresh Your Spirit. Her contemporary novels, Land of My Dreams, which won the 2016 Bookvana Religious Fiction Award, and Within Golden Bands (releasing May 19, 2020), explore the theme of women whose faith triumphs over trials. A women’s Bible study leader for over 21 years, her devotionals and poetry have appeared at ChristianDevotions.us, the Stitches Thru Time blog, Inspire a Fire, and in “The Secret Place.” She is a member of American Christian Fiction Writers, Romance Writers of America, Historical Writers of America, and the Women’s Fiction Writers Association. Norma is a former RN who lives in the mountains of New Mexico with her husband of 44 years. They have two adult children.

Ways to connect with Norma --- follow her blog, or join her on Facebook, Twitter, or Amazon. She is also on Pinterest, Instagram and Goodreads.