Tag Archives: Writers Resources

Blog of the Year 2013 Award

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http://thethoughtpalette.co.uk/

has nominated me for the Blog of the Year 2013.Blog of the Year Award 6 star jpeg

I was so honored last year when I won this very nice award. Excitement filled me to win any type of award for my writing.

When I started writing a year and a half ago, it was because God told me to. I had never written anything other than petty marks on my private note pads.

Even today I am humbled and honored to receive this award once again. I have made so many friends. I never in my wildest dream thought Jesus would ever bless me with loving friends who take the time to read my thoughts.

So many of you have been put through repeated stories of my woes of my brother’s illness. There have been those this past year who have asked me to try to write a book. I am still waiting but I do know that it is in the publishing department and to be out by Christmas.

I will feel like the biggest gift I could ever leave my three children is a part of my thoughts. Something for them to go back to and look through once God has taken me  home.

Some of you have asked me to test the waters in writing poetry. I have learned that I really enjoy this part of writing. I have played around with my writing, adding music to it, changing the words of the original song to how I am feeling that day.

I have been able to start a music page and a quote page. I have done quite a bit of healing through my writing. God knew that I would be a better woman by writing and he has never led me a stray.

Thank-you God and thank you friends for allowing me to be myself here at WordPress.

pink starsAnd now for the nominations. There are so many but I will randomly pick out a few.

Al
kattermonran.wordpress.com/

lenwilliamscarver
myownheart.me x
grammielen@gmail.com

jmgoyder
jmgoyder.wordpress.com

utesmile
utesmile.wordpress.com

babyjill7…Marilyn Griffin
babyjill7.wordpress.com

granonine
lindasbiblestudy.wordpress.com

Thank-you again Alyson!

 

A New Chapter of My LIfe Blossomed

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I don’t know if any of you would be interested or not, but I thought I would put the word out here to you.

As you know if you follow me I have been writing more and more poetry. I decided I wanted to save them in one spot and hopefully later on I will publish a book on my poetry.

There is nothing more than my poetry I write on here. No stories or funnies, just poetry. This way it will be easy to pull all my work and gather it together.

My editor told me that the book Dahlia will be published very soon. I am so excited. I am working on the book about my brother’s life journey and now this. I am not doing it for any reason, just for myself, and hopefully I can help someone smile or remember something about their own life or past.

The link is at Face Book. It is called, Terry’s Thoughts in Poetry. 

https://www.facebook.com/poetryinthought

Well, there it is, out in the open. So if any of you want just a page of poems come check it out! Thanks for reading dear friends.

quotes-about-poetry

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Weekly Writing Challenge: DNA Analysis

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http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/09/30/writing-challenge-dna/

DP Challenge

Your challenge is to take something intensely personal — the bits and pieces that make you YOU — and use them as a springboard for a post that makes a larger point and resonates with lots of other readers.

mirror blocksWhat do I see when I look in the mirror? What do you see when you look at me? Two good questions with entirely different views; I am sure.

When you see my face, maybe you see a round, chubby face. Not very many wrinkles. Maybe a pudgy nose surrounded by short hair. A nice sister, a caregiver.

Pools of memories

Deep as the sea

You see in my past

And where I am meant to be.

 

When I look in the mirror I am disgusted. I see a fat, round face. Plain with usually no make-up. I see would haves and should haves. I end up comparing myself to some dorky model on the cover of a magazine or TV.

This causes  a snow ball effect forcing me to shatter the glass and walk a way.broken window

When I look at me

I wish for more

I wish for magic

To change my core.

 

It is crazy, the things I do. The thoughts I have. I don’t take the time to make that check list of what I see very often. Usually when I do, I go on a spending spree and try to make myself feel better.

Knowing why I feel this way about myself is opposite of knowing how to fix it. When you friends make comments on my blog, most of the time I am shocked, pleasingly shocked. I just don’t see it.

When I read the Freshly Pressed I know that I am not a deep thinker. I don’t pull things out of my hat to write about or make a statement. My life is my statement. If I just write about my deep feelings about what I do in my life, it makes me feel more content.

Being honest on  paper is much easier than looking back at my reflection in any mirror.mirror No one is looking at me and it is so easy to write my thoughts. Sometimes I want to kick myself in the rear for being a foolish old woman for thinking such negative thoughts. There is no sense in it. But old habits and old words still haunt me today.

What I am doing is taking a segment from your comments and saying them to myself; changing my thoughts. I am improving, and for this I am glad. So on that report card, I will give me a big check mark on the box marked; Improving.

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Weekly Writing Challenge: I Remember

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http://dailypost.wordpress.com, DP challenge, Weekly Writing

The challenge: I remember

You’ll need an egg timer or a some sort of stopwatch for this challenge. Set a countdown timer for 10 minutes, choose one of the writing prompts below, and just start writing. Whatever you do, don’t stop for ten minutes. Keep your fingers typing. Write what you remember. It need not be accurate — it’s your memory. Do not judge. You got this.

  • Your earliest memory. Capture every detail. Document the quality of the memory — is it as sharp as HDTV or hazy and ethereal, enveloped in fog? Write for 10 minutes. Go.
  • Your happiest memory. Tell us the story of the happiest memory of your life. What happened? Get it all down, no detail left behind. The clock is ticking — get writing.
  • Your worst memory. Record the pain, the anger, the shame, the terror, the hurt. You’ve got ten minutes to relive it. Keep your fingers typing.
  • Freestyle memory. Write I remember at the top of your post, hit start on the timer, and write about the first memory that comes to mind. Ten minutes. Don’t stop.

If ten minutes feels too long, start with five minutes. If ten minutes seems too short, go for 15 or 20 minutes. You can shape this challenge to suit you. Then, once your post has had a chance to sit for a day or two, revise it and shape it as you see fit. Cut the dross. Trim the fat.

You can do the freestyle memory exercise every day if you like, as you mine your memory and write what comes to mind. Use the freestyle memory prompt or any other of our Daily Writing Prompts and go for ten minutes without stopping. Don’t judge the output, just keep practicing.

 

I Remember

I remember living in the big white house. It had a huge wrap-a round porch in front. It had great big bedrooms. I slept in one of those monster bedrooms upstairs with no one else around.

I remember being scared and sticking my head under the covers. Seeing shadows bouncing on the window panes, I was so sure monsters were waiting for me to go to sleep so they could come get me.

I remember walking from that house through the alley down to my aunt’s house. A friendly little dog that I thought was big and vicious used to come out to greet me as I passed by. I remember standing, frozen in form, screaming at the top of my lungs for someone to save me from the big bad wolf.

I remember when Mom and Dad first married and they moved into a two-story house. I do not remember Al at all, which I find rather odd. I do remember hiding behind the big chair in the living room when I was five years old. I can still hear my real mother and my step-mother arguing in the front doorway. They were talking about me. They were discussing why and why not I should not be allowed to go with my real mom. I can remember being real scared.

I can remember when my parents moved to a little white  house on a lane. It was almost to the end of the lane and I became friends with so many of the neighbor kids. I can remember getting in trouble for playing the new game, Doctor and Nurse. I could never figure out why Mom didn’t want me to play that game, although now I do know.

I can remember getting off my bike at the little tiny store. Taking my earned change inside and buying a Hostess Twinkie, if I had enough money. But usually I was able to buy some penny candy. I used to buy Bazooka Bubble gum and entertain myself for minutes trying to blow the biggest bubble.

I also remember the big oak tree that took up half of one side of our tiny front yard. I can remember having Mom help me carry my home-made cradle outside with all my soft, cuddly baby dolls. I would play for hours it seemed. I was always the mommy . I changed their clothes and fed them from the invisible bottle. Do you ladies remember those bottles? You tipped the bottle and the white milk disappeared. Soon after that they would wet right through the hand-made diapers my Grandma used to make my dolls. I would have to change them again.

I remember getting a brand new Schwinn bike for my birthday but I got it taken a way from me for two-week. I had went with my friend without permission to the cemetery. She and I would lay beside the fresh graves and guess how tall the people were. Boy when I look back on that I think how stupid I was.

I remember lots of giggles and reading and skipping rope and my hoola hoop. Life was free. It was easy. There were no concerns of late bills, or broken hearts or even death. Life was what I can dream about today and yearn for once again.

Time is up on the writing exercise.dscf4163

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I Couldn’t Help But Cry As I Read This

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Dianne Cogar writes amazing poetry. I have been following her writings for some time now. We have recently friended each other on Facebook.

I had seen one of her comments and poems tonight of where she paid special tribute to certain people, and I asked her if she ever got bored or had time if she could do something for me, for my memories of my brother, Al.

I waited for a reply back and went to her Facebook profile. Here is her link; https://www.facebook.com

Here is a peek at who she is;

I will never forget the gift she gave me within the same evening. I told her I was going to share it with you and let you know that she wrote it for me and Al. Here is the poem.

Thank-you so much Dianne.

Dianne Cogar 11:03pm Jul 15
A heart-gift for Terry Shepherd …

Al, My Dear Brother And Faithful Friend
Emotions Drawn From The Heart Of Terry Shepherd
20 Revised by Dianne Cogar 13

One kind and loving brother, and a wonderful true friend–
Someone who cares deeply from the start to no end!
Your smile and your wisdom, it’s uniquely your own–
Still young at heart, though you’re now fully grown.

This life sometimes hurts, and heartache stands in the way–
Though you revive my soul, spreading joy on each day.
And as tears sometimes flow, happiness will befall–
Empowering my emotions with this life I recall

You’re a man with a heart, and your life’s full of wonder–
Though sometimes confused, and you’re sometimes in blunder.
But God has a plan, Al you’re special to me–
You bring to life purpose and He filled you with glee

There’s two loves in your world, both are true to your need–
And they keep you content, yes, they keep your mind freed.
Old vintage cars; such amusement and desire–
And that sweet cocoa-cola that often takes you even higher!
Such small things to ask for, and even smaller gifts to give–
But these humbling pleasures are what that makes heart live.

Al, you’re a treasure, though still a diamond in the rough–
But together we survive, and together we grow tough.
And there’s no other brother that could make me feel this glad,
For all the memories we’ve shared, and even those that go bad

Yes, God has a plan, and he touches my heart,
From the fresh new of dawn, to the eve we must part.
And though worry I do, and the tears sometimes fall,
I know my problems are few– in comparison they’re small.

So let’s just go on with each day, and each in thankful belief–
And I’ll trust with my heart will come peace and relief.
You just smile at me always, with your eyes bright and true–
And never forget Al, that I’ll always love you!flashing star

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