Words from a Reader
The “Writing Life Stories” e-mails I receive are such treasures. As soon as I see there is one in my inbox, I read it immediately. I look forward to them and never know how they will touch me. They can be interesting, informative, humorous, and/or touching.
Friday, November 6, 2009
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.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
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.
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.
Monday, November 2, 2009
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.
Here is a photo of Gay at Wildacres.
We meet for lunch about once a month and always have some good laughs.
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.
We meet for lunch about once a month and always have some good laughs.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)