A worthwhile challenge: can we do it?

Yes, I know I said I was taking a blogging hiatus, but this is worth breaking it for.

Every so often I come across a very worthwhile cause. This time it was on Facebook, where I discovered singer/songwriter Jimmy Rankin had decided to do a Christmas giveaway — a personally signed guitar. He plans to give it to someone who comments on the offer, and whose comment garners the most number of “likes” before December 31st. Simple. No strings attached.

Jimmy Rankin

Win a signed guitar Epiphone DR 100 from me for the holidays! Just comment below and tell me why you’d like to win. Have your friends like your comment and the person with the most likes will win! Good luck everyone! Happy Holidays! – Jimmy

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What made it worthwhile to me, however, was that one of the people who commented was Kelly Yeats, the sister of author and blogging friend Laura Best, and the reason she would like to win the guitar is so she can give it to her nephew who is recovering from a devastating car accident in which his back was broken.

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There are hundreds of comments on Jimmy Rankin’s post, but only two are really close to winning, with Kelly Yeats in second place barely a dozen votes behind. Lots of people would love to have this prize, but as I read through the comments last week I realized that most just “wanted” it, either for themselves or to give to someone else who would like to have it. I couldn’t see anyone else who would benefit by being physically and emotionally encouraged in his long road to recovery like Kelly’s nephew. So, I’ve taken up the cause, too. With only three days left, the two top comments are staying pretty much neck-’n-neck in number of votes. I’d love to help rally more votes for Kelly’s comment.

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This is a Facebook thing, so you have to have a Facebook account if you’d also like to help.

• Sign into your Facebook account.
• Go to Jimmy’s page.
• Once there, find Kelly’s comment (you’ll have to click several times on “view previous comments”, then scroll down to find hers. It was made on December 14th at 2:37 a.m. my time (PST), 6:37 a.m. if you’re farther east where Kelly lives.)
• Click “like” on her specific comment for the vote to count (adding your own comment in support of her doesn’t count as a vote). (There are over 1100 “likes” on it now, but she’s still running in second place.)

I hope you’ll agree this is worth the effort and, if you have a Facebook account, will click on over and vote by “liking” Kelly’s comment. I’ll let you know in my Monday post how it works out. Whoever wins, I wish her nephew a speedy and complete recovery from his injuries.

Carol

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JANUARY 1 UPDATE

Although Kelly didn’t win the contest, she maintained second place by about 20 votes. This morning Jimmy Rankin posted the following notice:

“You guys rock! The response to the Epiphone guitar contest was fantastic – so many great comments – wow! Congratulations to Colleen Ingraham on winning the contest! It was neck and neck right down to the wire. Kelly – if you can hang tight, I’m going to get a signed guitar to you for your nephew. Happy new year to all and here’s to your dreams becoming reality in 2012! Cheers… – Jimmy“

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Meanwhile, Kelly has created a separate Facebook page to collect well-wishes for her nephew, Robin Varner. What a lot of ‘coming together’ this contest has created!

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‘Tis Christmas!

Thanks to all of you for your friendship and encouragement during this past year. I wish you God’s abundant blessings at Christmastime and throughout the coming New Year. May your hearts and homes reflect the love that prompted the greatest Gift of all.

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I’ll be taking a blogging break next week, but will see you here again on January 2nd.

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The Coming Birthday Party

Winter officially came in during the wee hours of this night. It arrived here gently, possibly with a few flakes of snow overnight as the temperature dropped, but with the promise of daytime sunshine. Where I am right now there’s not much snow around – not like last year at this time – but coming from the balmy west coast of Canada, I’m accustomed to green Christmases.

Yesterday I was reading the admission of blogging friend Kathryn Neff Perry, who said, “Several years ago I traded pine trees and snow for palm trees and sand. The first Christmas away from the cold and beautiful white blanket I was homesick. Nothing seemed the same. Nothing felt right.”

I’m not sure where the ideal of a “white Christmas” originated, because the first Christmas hardly took place amid a snow-covered landscape. But for some reason we’ve romanticized the season to Currier and Ives and Norman Rockwell proportions.

Admittedly, I think snow is beautiful, despite the walking and driving hazards, and one of the family memories I treasure is of a Christmas spent at the lake pictured here. This photo was taken just last month from our cabin window after an early skiff of snow. But the Christmas I remember was when my parents lived in their house across the creek.

Two feet of snow covered everything that December. My parents arranged for the road to be plowed right to their remote gate, so we could get there in our chained-up citified car. Subsequent flurries dusted the trees to a fairyland. We shoveled snow from the frozen lake for skating, went snowshoeing, and tobogganing. Christmas morning the fireplace was lit and we sang “Happy Birthday” to Jesus and shared gifts from under our traditional Cariboo-grown pine tree. It was perfect – more perfect than any of us imagined it could be.

Our family has talked of spending another Christmas there. It would have to be in our little cabin as the house is no longer available. There’s no way to plow the back road we now use, so all people and supplies would have to be transported the last five kilometers on snowmobiles. It’s possible, and it may happen one year. But we’ll probably never quite re-create that one memorable time.

We all look back with nostalgia, but a memorable Christmas isn’t dependent upon places and people long gone. Every Christmas is a new celebration of a Baby’s birthday … the arrival of the Son of God into our world. As Kathryn said, “He is the reason for Christmas.”

He is the gift – God’s gift to us – and everything we do to celebrate the occasion is merely the giftwrap. Once unwrapped, what we choose to do with the Gift will say a lot about how much we value the Giver. Where we hold the party and what the weather is like matters not.

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Making the most of your December writing time

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I sympathize with anyone who has a January editorial deadline, because there are so many December distractions. These last two weeks of December are probably the busiest time on our calendars. No matter how we celebrate Christmas (or don’t), there is so much to do as another year draws to a close.

And even when we’re caught up and the schedule is clear, we’re often too tired to do anything more than pour a glass of wine, collapse on the couch and maybe reminisce a bit in front of the fireplace. It’s not a good time to expect creativeness to emerge from our depleted minds.

If we’re staring at a deadline, however, something has to make its way from brain to page. At that point a glass of wine is more likely to put us to sleep rather than stimulate thought. So what to do?

My recommendation is to first commit to the task, kick procrastination in its derriere, and carve out a block of time, preferably a minimum of an hour, to work on your manuscript. Set a specific starting time, write it large on a sticky note and plunk that somewhere obvious, like on the fridge, your bathroom mirror or the television screen … or on the cover of the book you’re tempted to pick up in isolated moments. (Trust me, that book will become the worst procrastination or escapist mechanism around, if you let it.)

When the allotted time arrives, spend the first five or ten minutes in preparation:

• Open a window, stand in front of it (or stand outside the patio door) and do three or four minutes of exercise in the cold air – jumping jacks, jogging on the spot, knee bends, or just deep breathing and stretching if fitness isn’t your thing. You may be breathless and shivering when you’re done, but you’ll have increased the flow of oxygen to your brain.
• Hit the kitchen and collect something that will provide more stimulation. For me it would be coffee or chai tea, but a few sugar candies to suck on (or c.h.o.c.o.l.a.t.e) would work, too. As much as wine seems to be a popular choice for some writers, this is not the time for alcohol. While acting as a temporary stimulant, it’s actually known to be a depressant.
• In your writing place of choice, set a timer for fifteen minutes and settle down to write. Even if you’re not feeling inspired, write anyway. Keep writing until the timer sounds.

If you’re anything like me, at that point you’ll look at what you’ve written and toss it into the virtual garbage can! But persevere.

• Set the timer for the remaining thirty minutes and carry on writing. You may be starting from scratch again, but I’m willing to bet my second chai latte that the quality of writing will be respectable and you’ll finish your session feeling encouraged. In fact, if time permits, you might just decide to carry on writing. Go for it! Remember, there’s a deadline looming.

What other methods do you use to psych yourself up for a necessary stint of writing when you’re not in the mood or circumstances are helping you procrastinate?

 

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* Calendar photo by Renjith Krishnan

 

Time, Christmas Traditions and Memories

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What is it about Christmas that has us thumbing through old cookbooks searching for a particular recipe of Grandma’s? Why do we carefully unwrap ornaments that are old and dilapidated and take pleasure in displaying them in prominent locations on our decorated trees?

This little cross has been on every tree since I was born. And no, I’m not telling you how many years that’s been. At some point it moved from my parents’ home to ours, along with a few other treasures. I never knew what significance, if any, it had for them, but I cherish it.

Every family seems to have its own special traditions. A Facebook friend mentioned she’s making Polish stuffed cabbage … that it’s not Christmas without it. I make fruitcakes in November every year. When my mother was alive she made steamed carrot pudding and we always traded some so we each had both. It only happened at Christmas. Neither of us made those recipes at any other time of the year. I also remember every Christmas Eve the entire family gathered at my paternal grandparents’ home. We wouldn’t have dreamed of making other plans.

Christmas Eve 1953

There’s joy in these traditions and family celebrations, but when something happens to knock everything off kilter, their memories can make future Christmases a time of nostalgia and melancholy, even depression, as we recall with longing “how it use to be”.

We can turn the hands of our clocks backwards as much as we want, but there’s no way to turn back time in real life. I think that’s why time travel and historical fiction have such a wide appeal. As readers we can place ourselves into an earlier era, at least until we reach the last page.

I wonder if our families will recall this Christmas with fondness two or three decades from now. I wonder which of our traditions they will choose to continue or discard, and why. What makes traditions meaningful? As we approach the fourth Sunday in Advent, preparing ourselves for the celebration of Christ’s birth, what might we do to ensure the focus of our Christmas celebration stays on Him?

Do you have a favourite memory from a past Christmas? Why is it special to you?

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Arguments are for the birds!

I had an argument with myself this morning. I really wanted to spend some time writing, but Christmas baking was beckoning. You know how it is … reason arguing with desire. If I’d just get off my fanny and go bake something, I’d have time to write later. If I write first, however, I’ll never get to the baking. I know that for a fact.

Still, there’s this tantalizing thought begging to be recorded. It would take but a moment to jot it down. Of course that moment might stretch into several as the one thought leads to another. I know myself too well.

While I argued, a similar scene played out on the back deck railing:

“Hi there, little guy. I’ll be out of your way in a moment, but I’m trying to decide whether I want millet for a snack, or sunflower seeds.”

“Okay, but get a move on. I’m hungry.”

“There’s leftover millet on the deck if you’re in such a hurry.”

“Oh sure. Expect me to eat leftovers while you get the choice stuff? Forget it. I’ll just tuck my wings behind my back and wait my turn for the buffet.”

“Suit yourself, but this might take a few minutes. Let’s see … mmm, there’s cracked corn up there, too. And peanut bits! I looooove peanut bits but the jays usually steal them all. So, yeah, maybe peanuts. Ah, but the black oil sunflower seeds have the higher fat content that I could use. I burn a lot of energy on these frosty days.”

“Oh, for pete’s sake, make up your mind! Do you have any idea how much energy I’m wasting while I pace back and forth waitin’ on ya?”

“Quit bugging me! If you’re starving, go hit the neighbour’s feeder, why don’t you? It’s just a hip and a holler beyond those trees.”

“WHAT? Do ya think I’m stupid?”

“Hey, lady! (peering back at me as I watch from the window with my camera) Will you remind this guy that your neighbour has CATS!”

“Cats, shmats. This place has a dog and you don’t see me worrying, do ya?”

“But the dog only eats the seeds left on the deck. He’s not interested in eating you, like the cat is.”

“Shows how much you know. The dog is a Labrador Retriever. Mean anything to you, buddy?”

“Oh. (gulp) Um. I get your point. Maybe I’ll just hop over to the rhoddie and check for iced bugs while you sort out your menu, but speed it up, will ya. The missus is waiting out in the hemlock for me to bring home a few groceries, too.”

“These decisions take time. Let’s see now…. Oh, by the way, did you know that if you wait until sunset the little lights around here come on. Warm toasted seeds! Now that’s a gourmet touch, I’ll tell ya.”

“Well, I’m not waiting that long. Huh? Where’d you come from? Go ‘way, chickadee! I’m next in line for the feeder when thrush is done. There’s a pecking order around here, remember?”

“Ah, drat! Now where’d YOU come from?”

“I guess it’s leftovers tonight after all.” (sigh)

“Fresh or leftover, it’s all the same to me. I don’t share with nobody, kid. So scoot!”

“Aghhh! I’ll risk the cats. I’m outta here!”

“Yeah, I think I’ll sit this one out, too. It sounds like sparrow’s feeling peckish.”

Nobody wins in an argument. Which means I’d better make up my mind about the writing versus baking thing. The baking wins out as I need to set a loaf of cheese bread to rise and make some shortbread. On the other hand, I’ve been writing, haven’t I? Isn’t that called compromise?

What excuses do you come up with when faced with something that tries to eat into your writing time?

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The Eagles at Harrison River

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Our Sunday afternoon drive had a specific destination. We headed east through the Fraser Valley on Highway 7 towards the Harrison and Chehalis Rivers.

With camera and binoculars in hand we were looking for the eagles that the TV news said were here in record numbers to feed on spawning salmon.  As we left home, fog shrouded everything near the Fraser River but farther north we found sunshine and blue skies.

We also found bald eagles. Lots of them. Not all of the 7,000 that have stopped here on their migration, since many had finished feeding for the day and departed to roost among the trees, but still an uncountable number.

Until last year the largest gathering of bald eagles in North America has been in Brackendale, near Squamish, BC where about 4,000 birds were counted. As David Hancock says in the news video, the eagles follow the fish, and the Harrison River has had an unprecedented salmon run in the past two years.

There is a majesty about eagles — among the largest known birds with wingspans up to eight feet – and I couldn’t help but be awed seeing so many of them gathered in this one place.

It brought to mind the song, “On Eagles’ Wings”, based on Isaiah 40:31, “… those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.”

In our rush to reach the eagles before sunset we left the camera’s tripod in the car, so didn’t get many closeup photos. But we came away with memories of a Sunday afternoon well spent. We drove homeward into the sunset and back into the fog.

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Bald Eagle statistics from Wikipedia:

“… a large bird, with a body length of 70–102 centimeters (28–40 in). The wingspan is typically between 1.8 and 2.3 m (5.9 and 7.5 ft) and mass is usually between 2.5 and 7 kilograms (5.5 and 15 lb). Females are about 25 percent larger than males, averaging 5.8 kg (13 lb) and against the males’ average weight of 4.1 kg (9.0 lb). The size of the bird varies by location; the smallest specimens are those from Florida, where mature males may weigh as little as 2.3 kg (5.1 lb) and have a wingspan of 1.68 m (5.5 ft). The largest eagles are from Alaska, where large females may weigh up to 7.5 kg (17 lb) and span 2.44 m (8.0 ft) across the wings.

“Its diet consists mainly of fish, but it is an opportunistic feeder. It hunts fish by swooping down and snatching the fish out of the water with its talons. It is sexually mature at four years or five years of age. The Bald Eagle builds the largest nest of any North American bird, up to 4 meters (13 ft) deep, 2.5 meters (8.2 ft) wide, and one metric ton (1.1 tons) in weight.

“The call consists of weak chirping whistles, harsher and more shrill from young birds than adults.

“The average lifespan of Bald Eagles in the wild is around 20 years, with the oldest living to be about 30. In captivity, they often live somewhat longer. In one instance, a captive individual in New York lived for nearly 50 years. As with size, the average lifespan of an eagle population appears to be influenced by its location.”

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Learning patience by birdwatching

(Click to enlarge photos)

Black caps and white cheeks flash past my windows as the chickadees flit to and from the birdfeeder, interspersed with the occasional nuthatch. They dart in to snatch a morsel, then swivel away on their rapid return to the trees.

I sit with camera in hand and try to catch a photo, but on the automatic setting and without my tripod it’s almost impossible. These tiny fliers are constantly on the move and most of the images show the birdfeeder, but not the birds. Timing is everything!

The stellar jays and juncos are a little more cooperative, sometimes stopping briefly on the railing as they munch a mouthful.

Sparrows and varied thrush have a different mealtime technique altogether, choosing to clean up leftover seeds from the deck rather than hover airborne. The different species often arrive at the same time, but take turns, obeying an invisible pecking order as they dart in for their meal.

There is so much I can learn about God’s care from watching the birds. They may seem like insignificant creatures with very basic needs yet God provides for them, although they must work industriously to take advantage of those provisions.

“Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God.” [Luke 12:6 NIV]

Thinking of the earlier “timing is everything” comment, there’s a writing application here, too. When years of writing, revising and querying make us question our publishing dreams, it is encouraging to remember that patience coupled with vigilance and effort is important, and that “success comes when preparation meets opportunity.” [Henry Hartman]

To expect success in this particular challenge, I think I’d better go find my tripod!

What other lessons could we learn from God’s many creatures?

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What colours your writing?

There are bits of unexpected colour everywhere right now. They brighten up an ordinary landscape that’s in transition between seasons.

There are other colours turning up this month, but on houses, inside and out. Purple and lime green Christmas decorations. Teal and orange. Even black and gold. I’ve seen them in recent magazine spreads. “Our decorations are designed to complement the style of the house, not compete with it,” said one set of homeowners. Their rooms look very festive – so glamorous and glitzy.

Although I prefer more traditional colour schemes to the modern ones, I love all the seasonal sparkle. This year we have little white lights on our tree, tucked into garlands across the mantels, over the kitchen cupboards and wound around the railing on our back deck. They’re magical.

For years our trees were a happy jumble of decorations – heirlooms from our parents, others handmade by our children, and some gifted by friends More recently we’ve had a few themed trees. My favourite for a while was wintry white with snowflakes, glass snowballs, frosted pinecones. I added a few new white baubles each year and a snowy white wreath over the fireplace. We hung large snowflakes in the windows and sprayed artificial frost around the edges. Then I began to realize I wasn’t improving anything. In fact, what I was missing was colour.

We didn’t take away the snowflakes but added a few red baubles in various textures and some of the more meaningful old ones. They and a strategically located poinsettia or two changed the atmosphere by bringing a welcome warmth into the room.

There’s a correlation between decorating a home and creating a fictional world. Haven’t you ever noticed how one piece of writing may be sterile while another is as rich as a tapestry? What makes the difference?

How do you add colour to your writing?

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Bauble photo by Kittisak

Patience may be a virtue, but….

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It was nearing dinnertime, at least for our Labrador. Hubby and I wanted to get the Christmas tree up first, so we ignored the blatant hints. Tynan’s a patient dog and finally lay down to wait.

 

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That was hard to ignore! As soon as the tree was secure and before any decorating was begun, his patience was rewarded with his nightly bowl of kibble. Afterwards, in the first bin of ornaments, a bag of old Christmas dog toys was unearthed and he was ecstatic. Dinner and long lost stuffies! Life was good.

Patience may be considered a virtue, but passive patience doesn’t achieve much.  It needs to be accompanied by some kind of purposeful action. If Tynan had settled into an unobtrusive corner to wait, he might be waiting still. Instead, while he didn’t beg, agitate or annoy, he made his presence something we couldn’t ignore for very long. He was just too appealing.

We aspiring authors could learn a lesson from him.

What do you do while you wait for a response to your query letters or submissions?

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