Arts Expo - Saturday, Nov. 7, Hayesville, NC

Saturday, November 7, the Clay County Historical and Arts Council is hosting an Arts Expo in Hayesville, NC. Our writing organization, NCWN West (Netwest) will have a booth there and we are invited to read and sign books during the event.
The hours are 10 AM until 4 PM.
Our readings will take place at 11:00 a.m. and at 2:00 p.m.
We hope we have a good group of listeners so please come out to the Truett Memorial Baptist Fellowship Hall downtown Hayesville and support our arts. You will enjoy your visit and meet writers and artists of all kinds. Rob Tiger and some of his group will be playing music during the day.

Tell your friends to come. I'd love to meet them and sign my brand new, hot off the press, poetry book - Now Might as Well be Then - Published by Finishing Line Press and edited by Leah Maines. Great people to work with at Finishing Line. My book is lovely and I am quite proud.

Those who ordered books from me will be receiving them next week. I am also taking orders on Saturday and will have books on hand for folks to pick up for those extra Christmas gifts. The price is $12.00 and I will be so happy to sign one for you.

Veteran's Day Story in Clay County Progress

Once again I am proud of one of my students, Ash Rothlein, who wrote an essay that will be published this week in our local newspaper, The Clay County Progress. Ash served in WW II and has begun (in his mid-eighties) to write his memories This story is most fitting for Veterans Day.

While he never hesitates to shower me with appreciation for his beginning to write, I feel fortunate to have the opportunity to know Ash. A gentleman, the like seldom seen in today's world, he shepherds his classmates to meetings held about every three months, as they share new memories. Unlike some war veteran who never want to speak of the war, Ash decided to tell of  his recollections in touching and sometimes humourous stories.

We learned more about the kind of man our friend was in his youth, and our eyes filled with tears when he took us back to a battle field in Europe and the sentiments he continues to feel about that day.

If  you live in the Hayesville, NC area, pick up the Progress and read Ash's story. And if you have memories you have been meaning to share, get out the paper and pen or get to your keyboard. Don't wait another day. No more excuses. Write now.

Wildacres Spawns Another Writer

While I did little writing at Wildacres this past week, my sister Gay proved what I'd known. She is a writer as well as a sculpter and artist. With only a little coaching to get her started, she produced some funny stories that I hope to share with you here on this site.

She told me on many ocassions that she was not a writer. She had no memories and she had nothing to write about. I remembered the poetic letters she wrote back in the sixties, when she lived in San Francisco and I was a newlywed on the farm in Georgia. I read her letters over and over, trying to imagine myself living in a fascinating city on the Pacific Ocean. She was young and she was brave, I thought, to head out on her own. While I taught children in the same town where I had lived all my life, she experienced life in a way I never would.

Here is a photo of Gay at Wildacres.

   
 We meet for lunch about once a month and always have some good laughs.

Mrs. Patrick Swayze Interview on TV

Today I watched the widow of Patrick Swayze on TV. She laughed when she spoke and seemed to be trying too hard to put on a happy face. She and her husband wrote a book together while he was dying. Yet she said they never spoke of what was happening to him - to them. While I could not relate to the false cheery attitude, I could relate to her effort to keep a positive attitude when she was with Patrick. She said she never let him see her cry except the day she told him the diagnosis. I understand how she felt. Oh, if I could do it over again, I'd cry with him and he'd cry also. Instead, we both forced oursleves to be strong for each other. But we do the best we can to keep ourselves together to care for our loved ones. We have to.

How sad that Mrs. Swayze had to go out so early in her mourning period to sell that book. Did her publishers insist she do this? After all, now is the best time to sell the book. A year from now it might not be such a hot item on the book store shelves.
My heart goes out to her. She is suffering like anyone who has lost the love of her life. The interview answers seemed forced, and many of her remarks, along with her laughter and painted-on smile, were pitiful to me. No one should have to go on television with millions of people watching and give deep personal information about the death of her husband of over thirty years. Not so soon after his agonizing death from pancreatic cancer.

Poet of the Month on Above the Frost Line

Glenda C. Beall chosen by Nancy Simpson, Above the Frost Line, for poet of the month. 

Nancy Sales Cash is working on her next novel

My friend, Nancy Sales Cash, author of Ritual River, a novel set in the south western mountains of North Carolina, is hard at work on a new novel. The setting is the same mountains but look for an unusual new story.

I met Nancy when Ritual River was first released. She read at the John C. Campbell Folk School and I was impressed with her presentation. Many fiction writers choose one section of their book, perhaps a chapter from the middle of the book, and read for twenty minutes. Sadly, the intense hours of writing the story, finding the best words, building the characters and plot, are lost within a few minutes as the audience drifts off in thought. Without building up a mystery or question in the minds of the audience before the reading, the listeners quickly loose interest before they hear the excerpt.

Nancy Sales Cash did not waste her moments reading a chapter. She spent much time enthralling her audience with how she researched the facts for the book. As she told about a particular piece of truth she used, the audience began to wonder why was this important. Then she read a short piece showing why she researched the subject. The time flew past so quickly I was amazed and I bought the book right off.

Nancy is in process of building and updating her website for her new book. She will also begin a newsletter for those who want to know more about her and her books, both past and future.
Her most recent work can be found in the anthology, Clothes Lines, published by Catawba Press, edited by Celia Miles. Last year one of her short stories was published in the popular book, Christmas Presence, also edited by Celia Miles.

Nancy and other authors will be reading and signing Clothes Lines throughout western NC in the next three months.

Contact Nancy at nancysalescash@charter.net or contact me, writerlady21@yahoo.com, if you want to receive her Newsletter.

THE CHANGING VIEW

A storm brewing over Brasstown Bald as seen from our front deck.

How could I ever leave this place? This place so filled with memories? This place where you brought me so I could breathe, could write and finally live.
I still feel your spirit on the deck watching nature build and burst. Rumbling background sounds of thunder, come on in, I say, before the lightening gets too close. My fear of losing you, my need to keep you safe, futle now, but still I worry.

a BOOK ON FASHION FROM WOMEN WHO WORE IT

Recently I acquired a copy of Celia Miles and Nancy Dillingham's new anthology, Clothes Lines, a book filled with stories and poems about, what else, clothes.
Among the writers I know in this book are Nancy Sales Cash, author of three novels and she is working on number four. Nancy is a native of Murphy, NC and spends much time in the Cherokee and Clay county areas. We met at the Daily Grind and Curiosity Shop Bookstore, had a cup of coffee and discussed readings of Clothes Lines and my poetry book Now Might As Well Be Then.
Some of the writers in the far southwest area of North Carolina and north Georgia who have work in Clothes Lines are Kathryn Stripling Byer, Joyce Foster, Nancy Sales Cash, Karen Paul Holmes, Carole R. Thompson, Glenda Barrett, Jo Carolyn Beebe, Janice Townley Moore, Blanche Ledford and Brenda Kay Ledford, and Peg Russell.
A number of our Netwest members throughout the region also appear in this interesting book by 75 western North Carolina Women.

Celia and Nancy published Christmas Presence last year through Catawba Press and used the same press for Clothes Lines. The book is made more interesting by the use of a few black and white pictures all done by Mary Alice Ramsey.

 Be on the lookout for readings from this anthology in your town.

Multiple Chemical Sensitivity - Help may be on the way

Clean air - precious clean air -photo by Barry Beall


I have written about the dangers to me and many others who suffer from severe allergic reactions to the chemicals pervasive in our world today. In the past, while EPA knew of the dangers to the public from products made with certain chemicals, they were unable to do anything about it. Therefore I am delighted to read the following:




“In a speech to the Commonwealth Club of San Francisco on September 29th, 2009, EPA head Lisa Jackson announced an extraordinary series of new principles to guide the development of new, stronger chemical laws.


These principles call for the EPA to be given the authority to make regulatory decisions based on scientific assessments that reflect the need to protect human and environmental health. Manufacturers should supply the agency with the information necessary to prove that both new and existing chemicals do not endanger the public or the environment. This information should address specific potential risks to sensitive groups like children. When manufacturers do not submit this information, the EPA should be legally permitted to demand it, and it should be allowed to revisit chemicals already approved as needed.


The principles also say the EPA should have authority to take action when chemicals do not meet safety standards and should take into account considerations like children's health, social benefits, and equity concerns. It should be permitted to prioritize chemicals for review and set clear deadlines for compliance. Stricter requirements should be established for manufacturers who wish to hide "trade secrets" from the agency and the public, and health and safety data should always be disclosed."


Recently I read where a manufacturer plans to produce books for children - books with "fragrance" or chemical odors. The immune system of a child, like that of an older person, is not as strong as an average adult. These chemical smells that children will be breathing can compromise their immune systems and bring on the lung problems so many children are experiencing these days.


Those of us, who are extremely sensitive to the overwhelming presence of chemicals in our environment every day, are like the canary in the coal mine. Those who do not yet suffer as we do, should pay attention. What are you breathing into your lungs? Do you have headaches, coughs, and nasal problems you can't explain? Maybe it is the cleaning products used in your home or office. Maybe it is your own hairspray or cologne. Could it be your inside air is polluted by chemicals like "air fresheners"  "carpet deodorizers" or the chemicals in your fabric softener or laundry detergent?


When reading Oprah magazine gave me a blinding headache, it did not take long for me to realize it was the perfume ads with fragrances that exploded when I opened the pages.


If one is not concerned about the dangers to his or her own family from the chemical fragrances and cleaning supplies on the market today, it would be kind and considerate to think about others who might be.
Especially I wish waitresses, nurses, and staff in medical facilities, would leave off the perfume while at work with the public. The patient is trapped in a position where she cannot breath, where she knows that contact with the chemical fragrance will cause days of illness and sometimes major medical bills.
Although I listed my allergies to fragrance on my pre-op form before eye surgery, the nurse who came and took me to the operating room, who read out loud to me my allergies, said, "Oh, I don't have on fragrance, do I?"
"Yes," I said. She then laughed, "I bathe in -------- and I've been told it stays with me. I'll just get behind you and it won't bother you."


I was trapped on a gurney, an IV in my arm, on my way to surgery. I pulled the sheet over my face in an effort to filter the chemicals I was inhaling. Sadly, I've learned that hospitals and medical facilities are the worst places for folks with chemical sensitivity. MCS is a known problem, but no one seems to understand the seriousness until they become sick with it themselves.


To learn more click here.

Council Family Reunion

Descendants of John Cecil Council will gather in Wakulla County, Florida the weekend of october 10-11 for the annual Council Family reunion. I had planned to attend, but found I can't this year.
They have a big fish fry on Saturday night along with a cake walk which is enjoyed by adults and children as well. My cousin Sandra called me this week to see if I'm going and to ask me to stay with her. She lives in Tallahassee where she and her late husband Billy, lived many years  after building a successful business there. Beverly Council sent out the letter to all of us to remind us of this special day. My memories of this reunion go back to when I was in high school and my family attended.
Each year certain members of John Cecil's family are recognized. This year Sandra's family will be one of those. I would love to be there to hear the stories told about Eugene Council and his family. John Cecil was married twice and had two sets of children, so his decendants are numerous.
As we get older these family reunions come to mean more than just a nice meal and talking with a few relatives.
If you are a descendant of John Cecil Council, a very early pioneer of north Florida, who was captured by the Union Army and held on Shipp Island off the coast of Lousiana, then you should come and meet this family.

I love, love people who aren't afraid to take risks. Stu Moring decided it would be fun to be a stand up comic so he took a class. Click here to watch a short video of his routine at the Punchline in Atlanta.

He happens to be married to my sister. He and Barry were like brothers and the two of them kept us laughing all the time. Our vacations together were so much fun!

Ancestors

I want to share this poem by my 8th cousin, Mary Michelle Keller. She is deeply into genealogy and found we have the same lines in our background. Before we knew we were cousins, we were friends. Barry called her "Cuz."

Ancestors
Census copies strew across my desk
keys that fit rusty locks of remembrance
yield up the flesh of those long dead

I am the keeper of their stories
gathered from dusty history book
records of birth, death and probate

They sailed on ships of cholera
some for adventure, others respite
all for new beginnings, for freedom

The adversity they left followed
some died only to have just begun
others survived to plant their seed

I am here because of them
I will not let them lie in obscurity
I will raise them and remember.

                Mary Michelle Brodine Keller

A Short Story, Fiction for a change, not memoir

The following is a short story, not a memoir, I wrote for an online class I took last year. It was published in Muscadine Lines: A Southern Journal.
The class leaders give great prompts or first lines that spark the imagination and I have loved taking this free class.

                                                        Confrontation
                                                       by Glenda Beall

It had been a hard day at the diner and my feet hurt as I made the long walk home. All I could think about was a shower and crawling into bed – my empty bed now that Charles had left. It had been six months, and I had come to enjoy climbing under my crisp sheets, my pink and white coverlet, having all the room to myself, the pillows piled up behind me while I watched reruns of "Golden Girls."

Now that Charles was gone, I ate an early dinner. He always wanted two or three drinks before we sat down. By then he was irritable. He complained about my cooking.
“This is overdone. Can’t you remember how I like my steak?”
My answer was always, “I’m sorry, Charles.”
“One of these days I’m gonna just stop coming home. I can eat better food in a diner.”
We’d been married ten years, and two were happy. The third year, I learned that Charles was cheating on me. I didn’t have the courage to leave him. I loved him and he promised me the affair was over. I believed him and dreamed of having a family together.
As I walked home along Madison Street, deserted as usual in the evening, I heard footsteps behind me. I turned my head and glanced back. A man in a dark overcoat followed about fifty feet behind me. He wore a hat pulled low over his forehead. A shiver ran down my spine, and I wondered if I should be afraid or if I was over-reacting. Charles accused me of over-reacting when I found an orange lipstick in his car. I knew it was not mine.

I walked faster, and it seemed to me the footsteps behind me grew faster as well. Someone is chasing me, I thought, and I am alone and helpless.

On either side of the street, the buildings were dark and closed. Should I run, or should I continue to walk normally? If I ran, would he be more apt to attack or if I continued to walk as though I were not afraid, would he continue to follow me? Maybe I’d reach my apartment before he made his play. My mind raced with possible actions I might take, but none of them seemed feasible. I felt sweat trickle down my sides.

If I still had the cell phone, I’d call 911, but my contract had run out. I stopped carrying it with me. When Charles left me and took his girlfriend to live in Brazil, I realized I barely had enough money left to pay the rent. Scouring classifieds in the newspaper, I found the job at Martha’s Grill, working in the kitchen. No one there ever complained about my cooking.

As I walked and thought of Charles’ cruelty, his dumping me for another woman, my anger mounted.
“Charles, if I die here on this street, it’s your fault. If this man attacks me, I’ll come back and haunt you and make your life as miserable as you made mine.”

Suddenly I realized I was talking out loud. I turned and stopped in my tracks. Defiance on my face and in my voice, I yelled at the man in black.

“What do you want? I have no money. I’m broke! You took it all. You left me with nothing. Here,” I held out my large black bag. “Take it! Take my bag with nothing in it but used Kleenex, cough drops.” I began pulling things from the bag. “Last week’s sale flyer from Bostwick’s Discount Foods. You never ate discounted food. You always had to have the most expensive of everything, didn’t you, Charles?” I screamed at the man who had stopped about ten feet from me. He stood like a dark statue outlined by the pale light of a street lamp.

Aggravated by his silence, I threw the handbag as hard as I could. It sailed like a huge black raven taking wing. It fell on the ground before him. I stood there refusing to run, refusing to give in again. I’d not lie down and roll over like a submissive bitch ever again – not for anyone. This time I’d fight. Adrenaline coursed through my body like a rushing river charging over its banks. I became Zena, warrior princess, ready to take on a stranger, or Charles, or whoever threatened me.

My self-pity, my fear, flew away like my flying handbag. In its place self-confidence sprang forth, confidence to challenge the unknown, to confront it head on. I crouched, breathing hard, filling my lungs to their depths, every muscle tightened, poised to fight for myself.

The black suited figure stood quietly for a moment, turned to his right, ambled across the deserted street and disappeared around the corner.

© Glenda Beall


If you have any comments about this story, like it or don't, I'd love to hear what you think.

Submit Your Writing

I borrowed the following from Maureen Ryan Griffin's newsletter. Maureen lives in Charlotte where she stays busy teaching classes in writing. She also teaches at John Campbell Folk School and just held a class there. Her book, Spinning Words into Gold, is filled with excellent tips and advice for writers of any genre. She is a good friend and a generous writer.
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Lit Drift is a new blog, community, and resource dedicated to the art and craft of fiction in the twenty-first century. Besides its editorial content, Lit Drift offers daily creative prompts, daily short stories, and a weekly free book giveaway. They don't accept submissions for blog content, but they would happily accept material to be featured as a Daily Prompt and/or daily Featured Story. In both cases, they would look for a complete short story or poem to publish on their Web site. Author would be credited, of course, and linked to.


CAVEWALL PRESS is accepting open submissions postmarked during the month of September. Please send three to six previously unpublished poems to: Cave Wall Press, LLC, PO Box 29546, Greensboro, NC 27429-9546. Your name should NOT appear on any poems. Include a cover letter listing the titles of poems you're submitting. Include SASE for response.


To subscribe to Maureen's newsletter contact her:
Maureen Ryan Griffin
WordPlay

http://www.maureenryangriffin.com/

704 364-4359
maureen@MaureenRyanGriffin.com

My Writing Class Meets for Brunch - and I'm invited

I want to thank my neighbor, friend and former writing student, Ginny, who prepared a fantastic brunch for her classmates and me at her house.
A group of five from a class I taught at Tri-County Community College, formed a bond that brings them together every couple of months to share their latest work, catch up on each other's news and eat a fine meal. Ash and his sweet wife, Liz, started the whole thing and each of them, Nadine, Vickie, and now Ginny have hosted the group. They are kind enough to invite me and I try to attend when I can. Sara will host us in December.
As their teacher, it thrills me to see them continuing with their writing, using the knowledge they learned in class and improving their work. I was asked when I would teach another class. Right now, I'm not quite ready. But these friends and classmates inspired me to continue with my plans to go back to work after the first of the year.
We should not lead a seedless life. If we have a talent, a skill, or if we can help others in any way, we can leave our mark for good in this world. We should not lead a seedless life, but we should plant those seeds so they can grow and flourish as I saw them flourishing in my students today.