READING WRITING FEBRUARY 22-MARCH1

Your prayers paid off! The book I hoped to write for Christmas wasn't accepted. However, I learned that one of my previous books (Miss Bliss and the Bear) will be packaged with several others in a book called Preacher Brides, to come out later this year.

I've been invited to submit proposals for two more collections, so I am waiting to hear news on those as well.

God knew I needed some good news and sent it my way.

I was the guest last week at Inner Source. Fay did a great job with the interviews, so I'd appreciate it if you stop by and encourage her.   http://faylamb.com/innersource/?p=614 and a couple of posts before that.

As for writing itself, I received edits back on Saving Felicity The editor likes it! And says the edits are light. Always good news.

I am making progress on Runaway Love. Slow progress, but progress nonetheless

Reading: I am close to the end of A Passion Most Pure. It's been delightful and unpredictable so far.

My writing life is about to get hectic. Thank God!

NEW POETRY as of 2/26/13

WHERE HOPE FINDS ME and WALTZ OF WORDS inspired by assigned poem titles.

BITTER WINTER written to the form of a "luc bac" and inspired by Dick Francis (a favorite author) and Ralph Waite's death. 

WHERE HOPE FINDS ME

My parents bartered choices for a girl.

Should she be Bonnie Blue to Scarlett born?

Or should she sing and dance with Mickey Mouse,

A Billie Jean, Annette—no, wait. Darlene

My name reveals my age with no more clues.

For middle name, eternal values loomed

Perhaps choose Faith, for mountains rise to climb

Long-suff’ring Charity presides o’er all

Make Hope her name, where faith and love cross roads,

Her map to surety written in her name.

BITTER WINTER

Bitter February

Within, strands of mem’ry dangle

Frayed cords touch and tangle

Plus and minus wrangle to shock

Dreams, words, and friends may mock

Pounding soul against rock to break

Chips fall away and ache.

Love called my heart awake, then left

Ugly truth caused the theft.

Hope hides and I’m bereft, tears shed

And now Ralph Waite is dead.

A WALTZ OF WORDS

2/22/14

Dining tables assigned, the same four practice day after day

With Wanda, our dance takes no form

Here, she opens an eye. Yesterday, she said “no,” outraged.

The food choice brings her voice out of hibernation.

Today, her spoon scoops all bites into her mouth

Tomorrow her hand will fall into the plate, painting it as green as peas

For Peggy, we tap dance to bring words to life.

I say, “The fish tastes good today.”

Virginia starts her favorite song. I don’t like fish. My father. . .”

I interrupt, unwilling to dance to the same song.

Peggy touches my sleeve. “What are you talking about?

“The fish,” I say.

“I don’t know anything about fish.” She brings a flaky bite to her mouth.

Virginia and I dance on. . .we know

humor . . .pain . . .love. . .loneliness

For a magical moment, we mesh,

Our words floating above the table in a perfect three-step.

WHERE LIFE HITS THE BOOKS

A question I'm asked goes something like this: Do you base your characters on people you know?

The answer is . . . as always, with me. . .yes and no.

When my mother died, my next several heroines lost a parent in a way that impacted the story,

Now I'm in a nursing home and--yup--the nursing is starting to crop up

I proposed a nursing-home based romance which was rejected.

Then in Saving Felicity, she made the difficult decision to put her aunt into a nursing home.  That one will be published.

I have submitted a proposal for a Christmas story called The Three Wise Women of Christmas. Three nursing home residents encourage their hair dresser. I'm hoping it will be the beginning of several stories about the feisty ladies.

They will be a composite, with my own twist, on the lovely ladies I have met here. Both residents and staff will make an appearance.

And this week's poetry challenge suggested the title, "Waltz of Words." My mind ran through the conversations at my table . . . and so I wrote this poem.

Join me at the table and dance with us.

A WALTZ OF WORDS

2/22/14

Dining tables assigned, the same four practice day after day

With Wanda, our dance takes no form

Here, she opens an eye. Yesterday, she said “no,” outraged.

The food choice brings her voice out of hibernation.

Today, her spoon scoops all bites into her mouth

Tomorrow her hand will fall into the plate, painting it as green as peas

For Peggy, we tap dance to bring words to life.

I say, “The fish tastes good today.”

Virginia starts her favorite song. "I don’t like fish. My father. . .”

I interrupt, unwilling to dance to the same song.

Peggy touches my sleeve. “What are you talking about?

“The fish,” I say.

“I don’t know anything about fish.” She brings a flaky bite to her mouth.

Virginia and I dance on. . .we know

humor . . .pain . . .love. . .loneliness

For a magical moment, we mesh,

Our words floating above the table in a perfect three-step.

READING AND WRITING FEB 15-20

A View to Die For by Richard Houston. A crime thriller, but I just couldn't get into it. Not bad, nothing overly sensual or bloody, just . . .  uninteresting.

So now I've started Julia Lessman's A Passion Most Pure. Already her words remind me why her first book's warm reception.

Writing? A little here and everywhere. I have written four devotions for Women of the Bible and several ahead for My Daily Nibbles blog coming up. I've also managed a few thousand on Runaway Love.

Oh, and  my BIG news. Drum roll please: This week my book Homefront Dreams is one of the choices at Clash of the Titles.  Please stop by and vote, if so inclined!  http://www.clashofthetitles.com/

I am hoping for a Christmas release this year. . .so please pray along with me for the right opportunity.

Thanks!

Respect and Compassion

FEBRUARY 12: TWO AMERICAN LIBERATORS

Today Americans revere

A man who broke a nation’s chains

His vision imperfect, unclear,

For us, the living, task remains

Today, proud daughter weeps with ink

Her mother broke a single link

Abuse long master bid adieu

For me, my son, and babies two.

Form: Rispetto.  February 12th was also my Mom's birthday.

Does God cry as He

counts the hairs lost strand by strand

victims of cancer's cure

haiku inspired by Connie Peters' poem about God's love for sparrows 

PASS IT AROUND

I'm not feeling so great tonight. We've had a stomach bug circulating the building and it finally made it's way to me. So far I have it "light." Aside from throwing up for about twelve hours, I only feel flu-achy and extra tired.  Considering my roommate's non-stop cough, that's nothing.

Anyhow, I passed the anniversary of Mom's birthday without much sadness.  But it's "that" time of year, with two birthdays and two anniversaries, so your prayers are appreciated.

It was also Valentine's Day, of course. I won a beautiful red teddy bear for winning the Bingo black out game. She's adorable. Definitely a girl, with curly black lashes.

Today my son came with the babies today. I had accumulated Bingo prizes--plastic horses and plyboard puzzles--for the kiddos. Jaran said Isaiah clamored to see me today. That made me feel good. We actually talked in sentences today. . .

Funny for Jaran calling, like I've heard Shelley do often, "Jordan Elizabeth! Isaiah Jaran! Get over here now!"

Not a memorable week with my tablemates, but neither have we had arguments.

All in all, a good week.

READING AND WRITE February 7-13

Having the Nook has allowed me to indulge myself as of old!  Even better, a lot of  Christian books, series, and authors which I have desired to try are available for free.  I have loaded more than 40 books on my Nook, most of them for free.

Here are two I read this week:

Of Stardust by February Grace.  A fantasy based on the concept of where fairygodmothers (and fathers) come from and how they train. Add the twist that no two can fraternize with each other without giving up their powers, and find a pleasant, fun twist to fantasy and romance.

Love in the Great Southland by Mary Hawkins. Mary is an Australian author whom I met at a ACFW conference. She brings her international voice to bear in this well-told story of an arranged marriage where husband and wife come to love each other near Adelaide, New South Wales, Australia.

Writing, on the other hand--not much down. I have focused on writing devotions, and doing some initial research for my women of the Bible assignment. I finally wrote one today. I checked if aything I've already written could be used as the basis for a new one. Unfortunately no. :(

SEASONS OF THE BRIDGE OF CHRIST

This week's form is a "renga", a 17-syllable-haiku by one poet answered by a 14-syllable-couplet by the second. My good friend and poetic inspiration, Connie Peters, wrote this one with me.

THE SEASONS OF THE BRIDE OF CHRIST

By Connie L. Peters

And Darlene Franklin

The world wears white lace
Underneath a steel gray sky 
Speaking the Lord’s grace

Icicles weave silver thread

Winter’s gown for snow-cleansed bride

Bright colors abound

Life bursts forth in trees and fields  

Air quickens with sound

God’s love spears bridal prism

Rainbow shards contagion spread

Earth, water and sun

New growth and activity

Labor, joy and fun

White no longer, earthen arms

Toil ‘til ev’ry tongue sings praise

Mature red orange leaves  

Gently adrift on light wind

Patiently the ground receives

Creation slumbers, the bride

Keeps watch.  See! The King is come! 

A NEW FAMILY

Our new owners decided we should be assigned seating for our meal times. The tables were meant to contain people a variety, from who can't or don't speak, to the clearly demented, to the fairly with it. The point was to have a more family-like atmosphere.

I was distressed to be forced to spend day after day with people who can't carry on a decent conversation.  

Over the months, my attitude has changed. I feel like the "mother" of our little group.

Miss W. fools a lot of us into thinking she can't talk. Many meals she avoids eating until one of the aides forced the puree down her throat.

I felt like I had scored a touchdown the first time I asked, "Do you like polish sausage?"

She said, "No!" Her expression suggested extreme dislike.

We've had one or two days where we've carried on a conversation. A few days when she cleans her plate with glee, more when she eats her dessert, more when they have to spoon feed her. These days, when her eyes hover shut, I suspect she's keeping watch of everything that's going on around her.

Miss P. loves to talk. The problem is that she has trouble understanding. In Bingo, she has to hear each number at least twice. I will repeat a word two or three times, speaking as clearly as I can, and she can't understand. Once she finally gets the words (fried chicken breast), she shakes her head. "Well, I've never done anything like that."  But she hates to be left out of any conversation.

Miss V.--well, I've never met anyone quite like her.  She repeats the same stories over and over and over again, in the same singsong voice. She tries to help. She wants to be friendly. But no one wants to be around her for long (including me).

But over time . . .I help to steer her away from her stories. I acknowledge her pain, and tell her some thing I do to help myself. I have seen her do incredibly touching, tender things. Of the three ladies at my table, she is the one with the sharpest wit and biggest heart.

I am discovering the Miss V. very few of us ever meet. One that takes patience and understanding, but one worth the effort.

A nursing-home-assigned family--but a family none-the-less.

BOOKS, POEMS, AND THE FUTURE

Today is a definite mixed bag.

I am considering creating a new blog, with a slight change in focus. I would like to post five days a week, Monday - Friday, along the lines of:

• Monday - my usual slice of life/family/nursing home happenings and the like
• Tuesday - moving my daily nibble to this website, Tuesday and Friday
• Wednesday - a poem
• Thursday - update on writing and reading
• Friday - second daily nibble

And if I think I can handle it, I would love to have guest authors on the weekends. . .

So what do I share, here, today, on my familiar Sunday schedule? (Understand I do get the irony of expanding my blog when I've had a problem keeping up with Sundays only.)

Odds and ends.  :)

A new contract: I get to write 30 devotionals about women of the Bible for a book coming from Barbour. I am writing about women from Rachel through the Shulammite.

A new book cover: Here is the cover for  Colorado Melodies, which includes my first ever book, Romanian Rhapsodies, as well as the sequels, Plainsong and Knight Music. 

A new book: I am 25% through the rough draft of my next contracted book, Runaway Love.

A new poem: Inspiration: the first line from another poem. The form was meant to be a Lento but I didn't quite understand it.

The borrowed line comes from "She Walks in Beauty" by Lord Byron.

She walks in beauty, like the night

Broken dreams restored whole

Or crushed beyond repair, a

Token of her tattered life

Phoenix-like, beauty rises

From pain’s conflagration.

Night’s wrongs burn under day’s sun

Numb no more, her soul flies free