I Won!

HappyMeerkatreviews  had a promotion for a book on her blog.

When I spotted it, I thought, “Nah. I won’t get it.”

My other self said. What’s the matter? You deserve it like anyone else who signs up for it. Give it a shot. So, I did—I also set it a positive vibe.

I had, a few weeks before, finished reading Dr. Wayne Dyer’s book, The Power of Intention and have been trying to live by his doctrine.

It really works! Focusing on different situations in my life, I decided they needed another approach. His philosophy, change you mind and change your life, has a lot to offer.

I focused on what was possible based on the power of intention and voila, it works! We sold our home and are moving to another state and I won this wonderful book A Lucky Day by Carlos J. Server.

Perhaps you will say, “Yeah. Right! Coincidence. Nothing more.”

“Well then, who made it happen? The Universe is big and I am part of it all as you are. It takes the power of the Universe to help you along your way to the power of intention.”

I am happy. I will read a happy book about a lucky day!

Thanks Carlos and HappyMeerkat. 

Posted in On Writing - The Journey | Leave a comment

I Had To Put It Into Words

What is River Fork?

A coming of age YA story.

Why did I write it?

As a former teacher, I encouraged my high school students to write. One  particular assignment required an autobiography titled: “Fact, Fiction or Fix-it Autobio.”  Over the years my students, because of the title, felt comfortable enough to share stories I would never have been privy to.

I empathized at how much some had suffered in their short life. In particular was the loss of a parent, sibling or  a friend.

My mother died in a fire — my sister and I witnessed the event. I was five, my sister was seven. Needless to say, we never forgot. It is indelibly etched in my memory. So much detail for such a young mind.

Being aware of my students’ stories, a story evolved in my head for two years. My brain cranked out scenarios. At first it was a morass of imagery. How would I best present my idea. Picture book? Children’s book? Family story book? I wasn’t a writer. I wrote poetry and still do and tuck it away in a briefcase. But writing a book?

Since I am an artist, I began with cute pictures and stories. Then the story grew. It didn’t need to be cute — loss is not cute. I needed honesty and a theme, a plot, etc… . What did I get myself into?

I had to put it into words. As I began the writing process, I adjusted the length and breadth of the story. Years later, I found time in my retirement to finish the MS.

These last four years were devoted to researching the writing craft, improve my writing skills and understanding the different publishing options. Needless to say, the times have surely changed the publishing process since I first put pen to paper.

The story:

  • Timeline: 1957
  • Theme: the loss of a parent.
  • Setting: fictitious town of River Fork, NH.
  • Characters: Three neighboring teens who live in  a farming community.
  • It is about coming of age, death, forgiveness, hope and faith, budding romance.
    • It contains a bit of paranormal (no magical potions, witches, vampires, violence, etc…)
      tbwavestandbyjo-2017-72dpir
Are you a beta reader?

The MS has been line critiqued and gone through several revisions

Presently, I need a critique from a few beta readers willing to give me an honest review. Click here if interested.

If you wish to work with me in this endeavor, your name will be mentioned in the credits and I will gift you a digital copy of my YA novel once it is published.

 

I’ve since begun a sequel—Roach’s story.

Please like, comment and share this post.
Thanks.

Posted in On Writing - The Journey | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

I Think I Got It … Kinda.

pic_0422_680

 

Yes, I’m really here… 😉

 

Been writing for a while.

Blogs, that is.

I do have a manuscript for a YA novel that I am interested in publishng as well.

But this is about social media.

I find social media protocols strange. Some give an option, then it really is not what I think it will be.

Two days ago, I clicked on that ‘bell’ located at the top of my WP window. This time it worked! All the other times nothing happened. So I had given up.

Like I said, I clicked it the other day and there  was a list of people following me. My Twitter account had notified me I had these followers, but I couldn’t find them in the Twitter followers listing. Perplexing at the time.

Here they are in my WP account. Beautiful!

I experienced an epiphany. Things started to connect. So that is how it comes together. Now to make it work for me.

I did redirect my website to my WP account. It is http://www.jmorise.com . And, I am the one who solves a lot of issues for my hubby’s computer as well as mine. I taught computer science for 20+ years. Therefore, give me a break before judging me. I retired just as social media was coming of age. I was not interested at the time. I was busy painting and writing my MS and fulfilling a whole lot of obligations. Retirement finds me just as busy as when I was employed.

Does anyone else out there find social media difficult to digest?

I’m not talking about posting a picture and requesting likes. That is what I call a scrap-book or a family album.

Comments from like-minded participants as well as likes are my goal.

As I said, I think I got it… .

Leave a comment, a like and please share.

Thanks.

Posted in On Writing - The Journey | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

It was just an idea… .

the-ideaAn idea brewed in my brain for two years. Like a bug, there was no cure other than a pen and a piece of paper. So, I began to write.

Where did my idea come from? Somewhere deep in my stream of consciousness I suppose. When I read or listen, my head makes associations. Some are  interesting, others strange yet possible, and some are outright dumb.

Years ago, as a high school teacher, I assigned projects that included lots of graphics and lots of writing. One assignment was called “Fact, Fiction or Fix It.” Each student had to create a newsletter layout with stories, ads, gag cartoons, strip cartoons, interviews, research, etc. Finally the editorial page assignment was an auto-bio.

What could a high school student write about? I realized many of them had stories never expressed that would probably spill onto the editorial page. So the theme “Fact, Fiction or Fix It Bio” would be a safety net for them to open up.

Upon reading each story, I was stunned at the pain some of my students suffered in their short life span. In particular was the loss of a parent, sibling and a friend. I could relate because at five years old, my mother died in a fire — my sister and I witnessed the event. Needless to say, we never forgot it.

My brain cranked out scenarios. At first it was a morass of imagery. How would I best present my idea. Picture book? Children’s book? Family story book? I wasn’t a writer. I wrote poetry and still do and tuck them away in a briefcase. But writing a book?

Since I am an artist, I began with pictures and cute stories. Then the story grew. But it didn’t need to be cute — loss is not cute.

Friends made recommendations. I was not an English teacher, so I took their advice. I wove a beautiful, wordy story. It sounded great. The story got longer. I was lost in my own words and characters. I needed another character. But who? It was necessary. A girl with trouble, like the two boys I had wandering about in those pages, would make it a better story. That required a re-write.Image result for free crumpled paper graphic

After four years and many re-writes, and retirement from a teaching career, I had the courage to join a writer’s group.

There I learned about fiction writing and I trashed a lot of my flowery words. A few critiques  helped me grow and encouraged me to continue writing my story.

Meanwhile, as an artist, I promote my art to galleries and display my work in group and solo shows. However, my story is still alive in my head. I read about writing, attend writer workshops and talk to authors. I read YA novels and joined a national writers/authors group. I continue to re-write whenever I have the chance.

Publishing has gone through a lot of changes since I committed myself to this story. After much research and comparisons, I have decided on indie-publishing.

The idea came to me fourteen years ago and now it is a complete story. My target is the YA audience.

Therefore, I am now seeking beta readers. If you are interested in beta reading my YA story, please write to me. Request to fill out this FORM and we will talk. You will receive a free copy of the book once it is published and I will mention you in the credits page.

Please share this post and leave a comment.

Posted in On Writing - The Journey | Leave a comment

Damn—I Swear It’s OK

I’ve written my first YA manuscript and a scene comes back to me now and then. One of the characters is angry for good reason, why not let him swear? Listen to me. I, the writer, give permiss…

Source: Damn—I Swear It’s OK

Posted in On Writing - The Journey | Leave a comment

Summer is O – V – E – R – there. Somewhere.

Pulling out the old linoleum flooring was a chinch. Happy about that.

Pulling out the old linoleum flooring was a chinch. Happy about that.

Didn’t we just notice spring arriving and how hot it got in July. New England got damned hot.

Yeah, I know. I chose to used two different patterns from kitchen to dining. I like it. A dividing point instead of a wall.

Yeah, I know. I chose to used two different patterns from kitchen to dining. I like it. A dividing point instead of a wall.

July-August, I was cutting tiles for our kitchen  floor. Man, it was like standing in a hot oven as I cut tiles outside on a wet-table tile saw. No shade. The sun’s glare on a wet, shiny tile demanded sunglasses. It took several minutes to regain my vision as I stepped back into the house from each cut—many cuts.

August, we installed interior doors solid panel as well as french double-doors. Painting the woodwork and touching up was a joy. Uh huh. Right!

My easel is just beyond that doorway. Waiting.

One french door was too short. Fortunately, I had a remnant from another door, so with a little surgery and sanding and painting, I successfully ‘grew’ the too short door with a transplant.

I’ve seriously pondered such surgery. Three or four inches taller would be just right. I was ‘normal’ height in high school. I prayed I would continue to grow. Years later, I conceded that I was deluding myself.

Sutdio doors. Patient on horses awaiting surgery.

Sutdio doors. Patient on horses awaiting surgery.

Back to my door transplant. Hubby was impressed and promised to help with the installation. Once the paint was dry and the glass surfaces scraped clean, he helped carry the door upstairs. French doors may have less wood, but they are still  heavy. Since Hubby was not home, I installed the door myself. Difficult, but doable. The light shines through the glass door and illuminates a dark hallway at the same time. Just what we need.

September, it was sheet rock and mudding. Then, I noticed the kitchen ceiling—cracking? Grab the step-ladder, tape and tools and keep mudding until it looks smooth. That took a while. And yes, sanding and priming and painting. My neck hurt from hours of looking up.

October, finish work with door molding and thresholds and ahhh—some more damned sanding, painting and touching up.

“But you’re an artist. You must love doing this,” said Hubby.

Yeah! Right.

My finished doors and the patient now standing about 3 inches taller. Waiting to go upstairs.

My finished doors and the patient now standing about 3 inches taller. Waiting to go upstairs.

I don’t mind doing it a little bit. But this has been going on since I was a little kid helping my parents with each house project. Then my first husband proved inept with a hammer—to install little blocks of wood outside the window for drapery rod extensions he sunk the hammer head  deep into a plaster wall. So, I became the architect/carpenter/painter, et al. I’ve constructed additions, designed homes, built homes and two-story, 4-bay garages, an eighteen sided home and now this. It is going to stop.

My manuscript is in my computer just inside my studio, reminding me to finish the editing I promised myself to finish last spring.

Summer is over there. In my kitchen, on the floor, the ceiling, around doors, in doors and thresholds. Oh yeah. Almost forgot. We cut trees and split firewood and I helped Hubby design and build a retaining wall to support the fire-wood in the basement. He feared the stacked wood might fall atop our little VW. I assured him it would not. Hubby worries about stuff like that.

Hope your summer was fulfilling as was mine. 😉

Posted in On Writing - The Journey | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Hello? Somebody Is Here. I Think I’ll Take a Nap

Charlie taking a nap.

Well, I’ve recovered from the foot thing. Walking normal again. Meanwhile, lots has happened and I have been busy as usual.

I can’t imagine being bored. I don’t seem to have enough hours in a day. I remember as a child, Pop ate his Sunday lunch, then trotted off to the living room sofa, lay back and snored away. I sat in the kitchen across from him and wondered why he was wasting so much time just sleeping during mid-day. After all, he did sleep at night as did the rest of the family. Even then, I felt the days were too short.

As I sit here, I am tired. I want a nap. But I have been too stubborn to take one. However, as time goes on, I believe I will soon submit to a siesta. My eyelids drop every once in a while and it is mid-afternoon.

Last night, at about midnight, I awoke, got water and returned to bed. The full moon allowed me to see enough not to bump into furniture. Soon after retiring once more, a voice called out, “Hello?”

Was I dreaming? I closed my eyes and again, “Hello?”

I quickly got up and went to the front door. It was closed. No one was there. “Hello?” Where? I call to Hubby, “Someone is here.” I went down to the kitchen. No one there. I opened the cellar door and to my surprise, the light was on. I had turned it on to assist my company in maneuvering the stairs with the platter of barbecued burgers and rolls served for dinner. That was hours ago. No one turned off the light. If the light was still on, the garage door might be open as well. I sucked in a breath and answered “Hello!” at the top of the stairs. “Hello?” came from below. It was a male voice.

Barefooted, I  quietly stepped down the stairs and hesitated at the bottom. Should I go around the corner into the basement and see this person? Perhaps he was outside in the driveway. “Hello!” I called. “Hello?” came from outside. I stepped into the lit basement and walked to the open garage doorway. A man of about thirty-five stood there with a flash light glowing from his smart phone. He appeared sober, and he stood about fifteen away. He stayed put.

“I’m sorry to wake you. But I’m not from around here and I’m lost. My aunt was driving and she was picked up on a DUI and they told me to walk. I’ve walked over two miles and I don’t know where I am. I finally saw your light and thought I could ask for your help. Can you help me. I’m not used to all these trees and woods that are around here and I’m really scared of wild animals coming out. Don’t be afraid of me, I’m a good guy. I won’t do anything bad. I’m just scared and I don’t know where I am.”

I asked him to stay. I went to the stairs and one of our guests was at the top with a quizzical look. Hubby appeared next to her. “I need a man down here please.” Hubby and the couple visiting all descended to investigate.

I returned to my midnight guest, grabbed a chair that was outside near the door and offered it for him to sit. He accepted. We questioned him and tried to decide what to believe and what to do. His name was Robert and he had to get home after a day at the Lobster Festival. He was about two miles from his destination. His phone had no service and he showed us that he had tried calling his wife eleven times with no luck. I got my phone. We called 411 for a taxi. 411 was not available. We couldn’t find the local taxi in the phone book. So I called 911. I explained the problem. The officer asked what the emergency was. I repeated my explanation. “You do NOT call 911 for a taxi.” I apologized, and asked who we could call, he gave me the sheriff’s number and hung up.

The sheriff’s dispatcher was sympathetic and gave us a number. Meanwhile the plan changed. We decided to call Robert’s wife who was at the cottage he was looking for. It took more than one call and finally, she answered. We asked if she knew Robert. She did. Robert spoke and had to beg her to pick him up.

We suggested he walk along the road to flag her down. As Robert parted, I said, “Don’t worry about wild animals. The only thing you have to worry about are the cars going by and they will avoid you.”

Robert thanked us and lit his way down our driveway into the moon-lit night.

Koala sleeping on a tree top

Koala sleeping on a tree top (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Hubby and I could not sleep after that. After an hour, I sat up and waited a decent amount of time for Hubby to be still and obviously sleeping. He is aware of light and complains if it wakes him. So I am wary of turning it on unless necessary.

The door had been shut tight, therefore, I gently and firmly turned the knob. No squeak. I returned the knob to its original position. No squeak. I pulled the door open. No screaming hinges. Upon exit, I gently pulled the door towards me but did not shut it. Success!

I quietly descended to the living room in the dark. Once downstairs, I decided to read. As I fumble around, a light switched on in the stairway. I walked to the bottom of the stairs, “Hello?”

Our male guest was at the top step, bent over struggling to quickly don on his jeans. Was he planning on running down the stairs to grab the “intruder”? He stopped in a mid-pose. I imagined him tumbling down the stairs head first, like a ball.

“Jesus Christ, Jo. We thought someone was in the house!” He turned, disappeared into the guest room and shut the door.

“Sorry, I couldn’t sleep.” I returned to the living to read a novel for about an hour, then I tip-toed to bed and tossed most of the night. Perhaps I got four hours of sleep. We were pretty tired this morning. Especially my male guest who had to catch a 6:30 AM flight to return home.

I believe I will join Hubby for a little nap.

Posted in On Writing - The Journey | Leave a comment