Writing - the ups and downs

This year when my children brought home their school pictures, I cringed.  These kids can leave home looking cherubic, but the minute they pose for that school photographer they are transposed into unrecognizable beings.  My middle daughter brought home pictures bearing her name and room number that couldn't have been my offspring. Nor a distant relative. I had worked for hours on this child. Her hair was parted in the middle and drawn into a cute little ponytail over each ear. Even though she is at an awkward age, she looked adorable when she went out that door. Her missing front teeth only added to her charm.  The kid in the picture has her mouth open wide displaying ugly dark gaps. Her one visible ponytail is lopsided, her part is uneven, and her bangs look like they were cut with pinking shears. I know this isn't my child because I always give my children a good haircut before they have their pictures taken. The only thing vaguely familiar is the swe...

My latest book! Dear Writer:  Writing a story is somewhat similar to building a house. Or not! Remember this: when we give a piece of our story to someone to read - we expect them to see the whole. It's like building a house and offering a single piece of lumber to another builder. “Here, see the house I'm building.” SOME CAN SEE IT AND SOME CAN’T. Here's the thing: MOST CAN'T. This step is as necessary to me as breathing.  I need to give you single boards as I create them. AND I expect you to be a visionary and say, “Why yes. I see.”   I need you to see how special the piece of lumber is that I'm using and to see that eventually I'll add more pieces to make the whole.  Choose people to read your work who like the kind of stories you write.  There are as many kinds of stories as there are houses to live in. If you give a brick ranch to someone who only appreciates a cape cod then he'll have a hard time fitting hims...

Elizabeth says, "Reading and writing have been part of my life since I was a child. I've published several short stories in magazines, four non-fiction books, and a collection of stories called Young Patriots: Inspiring Stories of the American Revolution. My latest book is Pairs at Nationals, a sequel to Pairs on Ice. After Jamie and Matt's coach is injured, they travel to another rink to train and find hostility and pranks. Jamie wonders if it's worth the struggle." So begins the interview: I’ve never done an author interview before, but I thought I’d start with my friend Barbara Whittington, who just released her second novel, Missing: Sweet Baby Jame s.  Barbara and I met many years ago when we both lived in the Cleveland, Ohio, suburbs and joined the same writing group.  We bonded over our love of writing, and that shared interest led to a true friendship.  Barbara, who grew up in small-town West Virginia, began her writing career with...

Finally - New Release is out! Available now in paperback and kindle version. On Amazon. Since we last visited the fictional town of Shady Creek, West Virginia, Vada Faith and John Waddell have welcomed a beautiful baby boy, Sweet Baby James. Their world shatters one afternoon when eight-month old James is missing from his play pen on the front porch of their old Victorian home. Is it a real kidnapping or is it a hoax? Duke Cobb, the town’s only police officer, determines to get to the bottom of this mystery. As the hours pass, Vada Faith’s trust in God wavers. She fluctuates between praying for her son’s safety and making bargains she isn’t sure she can keep. At a candlelight vigil in the park, Hope and Charity plead for the return of their baby brother. At the same time, two elderly sisters manage to knock the small town off its axis. Missing: Sweet Baby James is an unforgettable read, filled with unexpected twists and turns. Click the link below to go to Amazon and check o...

Ode to Old When I am old- Really really old- And cannot see - Red balls of rouge- Riding- High on my cheeks, Black lines- Arching- Over my eyes,  Gravy stains covering- Yellow flowers- On my good blue dress. When I am old- And cannot see - Will you please do-  My grooming for me? by: Barbara A. Whittington

In honor of Valentine's Day my short story, Dear Anne: Love Letters from Nam is free on Amazon from February 13- 17th. Hope you'll get your free copy. I'd appreciate hearing from you after you read it. Or leave a review on Amazon, which is even better. It actually helps sales. And sales for my books this winter have been almost non existent.  The review can be as little as a sentence or two to let me and other readers know how you liked the story. Writing is a lonely profession and any feedback is always appreciated. I've been hard at work on finishing the current novel and editing is taking WAY longer than I'd ever planned. That's what happens when one is a perfectionist. Any job takes twice as long because we do a lot of second guessing and downright worrying over every phrase. With this novel, since it's told from several points of view, I've had issues with the time line. At last, I believe I have all those issues ironed ou...

Happy New Year's everyone! I'm featuring a blog post from 2011. The story of how my mom made Leather Britches or Dried Green Beans. This recipe dates back to pioneer days. My mom learned from her mom,  Dora Warner Casto, who learned from her mom,  Lorene Casto Bailes. I hope you enjoy my essay. My mother gardened all her life. It was one of her great loves, next to family, God, and country. Because she grew up during the Depression, she learned to use every last item from her garden for canning, preserving, drying or pickling. Every year at the end of the green bean season she made leather britches, dried beans that would keep for the winter. These were the last beans hanging on the vines. The beans inside had grown to full size with outsides a bit withered. They were beyond the stage to can or preserve, or even to pickle. Although her fried pickled green beans and corn bread were the best in the world. (Well, next to her biscuits and fried apples.) Mother started ...

Guest Blog by Elizabeth Weiss Vollstadt about her just released new novel, PAIRS AT NATIONALS, an ice skating story. Perfect for the start of our winter season. Here's Elizabeth. www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=Pairs+at+Nationals++by+Elizabeth+Weiss+Vollstadt&rh=i%3Aaps%2Ck%3APairs+at+Nationals++by+Elizabeth+Weiss+Vollstadt PAIRS AT NATIONALS—Now Available at Special Price! I’m excited to announce that PAIRS AT NATIONALS, the second book in my Pairs on Ice series, is now out and available on Amazon!  In this book for tweens, Jamie Bartlett, 13, and her partner Matt O’Connor, 15, have just won a gold medal at the sectional competition.  Now they are psyched to win gold at the National Championships.  But then an accident changes everything—and they are forced to train at a new rink with a new coach.  With skating as the backdrop, this book lets the tween reader (and older one, too) feel the struggles of trainin...

NEW romance paperback makes a sweet gift for the reader in your life. The publication of my paperback Dear Ann: Love Letters from Nam, which is a short story, is finally HERE. So happy. Just click the link below to go to Amazon and check it out. The story is told in letters between a young soldier in war-torn Vietnam and his bride back home in West Virginia. Priced at $5.99. I put a lot of hard work and considerable research into this story. It is a part of a much larger work - which may take the rest of my lifetime to finish or I may never. Thus, here's a portion of the story I still love! The letters make a good stand-alone story. I hope you'll enjoy reading it. If at all possible, please leave a review on Amazon. This paperback exists because of the many requests I had to turn this story into a tangible book. Dear Anne is filled with romance, and the emotion and angst that comes with war-time romance. Leaving a loved one behind to go fight in a war in a far away str...

This is a blog I've revised from 2010. It's very relevant today. I've been on a search for 50s music, the music that I grew up to. Recently I've ordered cd's and have had a great time listening to and dancing to the music. Remember Billy Joe Royal? Fats Domino? Sam Cooke? Well I remember them all and the words to their songs. What songs did you grow up to? I'm always looking for new music to listen to. I'd love to have your suggestions, not just from the 50's but during the time you grew up. What strikes your fancy? What songs did you fall in love to? I shop at one of those stores where you can buy everything from groceries, to the latest movie, to tires for the car. I passed one of those machines that plays music. The ones where you punch the song you want to hear and it takes off. Mostly the machines offer Celtic tunes, or peaceful songs to lull one to sleep. Not this one. It had some great selections. My choice was SODA SHOP CLASSICS and when...

Gathering Leaves Spades take up leaves No better than spoons, And bags full of leaves Are light as balloons. I make a great noise Of rustling all day Like rabbit and deer Running away. But the mountains I raise Elude my embrace, Flowing over my arms And into my face. I may load and unload Again and again Till I fill the whole shed, And what have I then? Next to nothing for weight, And since they grew duller From contact with earth, Next to nothing for color. Next to nothing for use. But a crop is a crop, And who's to say where The harvest shall stop? After Apple Picking My long two-pointed ladder's sticking through a tree  Toward heaven still.  And there's a barrel that I didn't fill  Beside it, and there may be two or three  Apples I didn't pick upon some bough.  But I am done with apple-picking now.  Essence of winter sleep is on the night,  The scent of apples; I am drowsi...

 Sisters and Friends Forever! Donna Sue and Bobbie My birthday gift of a poem to her a few years ago Today my sister Donna Sue Null Hoffman would be 77 years old. Three years without her has left a hole in my days. She called every day to check on me. She was like a second mother when we moved from our childhood home, I was five and she was eleven, and my mom remarried and worked full time. She took me under her wing and continued looking out for me until the day she died. One of the last things she told me when she was very ill in the hospital just before her death was she needed to take me shopping at Beall's (FL) and buy me clothes. She'd learned that I had bought some clothes at a local thrift store. (I love thrift stores. Her - not so much.) I asked her then what Beall's had that she liked so much. She said, "Pretty things." I asked her how she intended to get us to Beall...