With rare time to spare, I can get serious about blogging about the letter P today.
Of course, the first that comes into my head when we go to the bathroom! But there are so many great words beginning with that letter when I think of writing.
Powerful, People, Places, Poignancy, Passionate, Persistent,
Proofreading, Pictures, Pricing, Publishing, Promoting
The Power of storytelling is to capture the emotions and imagination of the reader, which will carry them through to the end of the book. I received a wonderful compliment from a new reader of my childhood memoir, Chosen. After having two strokes, which left her with vision difficulties, it was the first book she had been able to read all the way through in three and a half years. She loved the child I was and even commented that who I was then was still present in my home and garden. She loved the People, the Places, the Poignancy and the Persistence of a little girl living her best life. The best gift any writer can be given is to be asked, “When will your next book be published?”
That brings me to the act of writing itself. The writer must be Persistent, believe Passionately in what they write, and always use great proofreaders.
Once my first book was published, I was eager to complete my second memoir and get it Published. I had to learn to slow down. Write, edit, proofread, set aside, edit and proofread again, and possibly again! I have written, edited, and had five beta readers proofread and edit. I have set it aside, and now I am in that second editing faze with a friend. She is doing an incredible job. I am excited and feel even more Passionate about my story than before.
The last four Ps—Pictures, Pricing, Publishing and Promoting are still to happen. The first two are relatively uncomplicated. Good Pictures are essential. The hours of sweat, ink and paper don’t count in Pricing. And then there is Promoting!
If I could Promote myself with the energy I put into working hard in a garden, I would do well. However, Promoting myself is my most difficult challenge and the one I must learn to overcome.
I will finish with a line from a poem I wrote a while back—Perhaps… today will be a new beginning.
Here is a recent poem looking back through forty years of memories on a drive on the old highway to Bellingham.
DRIVING THROUGH MEMORIES
I exit off Highway 20
drive home along Farm to Market Road
through Skagit farmlands and the steep hill
where forty years ago, my children
shut their eyes and pretended to fly
I drove past the road to Padilla Bay where my grandson,
six-months-old, cried,
afraid to put his feet on the sand.
Continued by the Cafe where food was good,
memories of marionberry pie and ice-cream
with Sally, a dear friend,
who died years ago.
Segued to Blanchard Mountain
where. as a young family
we hiked to the Oyster Dome,
Samish Lookout,
and more.
Drove on into the hills, followed
the road loops under tree canopies
along Chuckanut Drive
where the light and shadows dance
a magical waltz.
I remember 2004,
the Bi-Valve Bash
where my eight-years-old granddaughter
ran the mud race, and won,
at the Oyster Farm.
Larrabee Park—we’ve camped and kayaked there
hiked and biked the Arroyo
to Lost and Fragrant Lakes
I reminisce: there were no multi-million dollar houses
hanging on the cliffs in 1986,
or parked high in the woods.
Now, I am near the end
of the Chuckanut Highway built in 1909.
At Fairhaven Park I remember
English High Teas served on
white tablecloths and fine china
with Sue, my dear friend of thirty-plus years,
She passed this year.
I turn on Old Fairhaven Parkway
leaving behind a trail—
forty years of memories,
twenty miles of scenic road.