I typed up the quotation, included the name that Hipps claimed was the source, and popped it up on Twitter and Facebook
like this [see actual citation below]:

"We become what we behold." –Marshall McLuhan

— annkroeker (@annkroeker) July 21, 2012

People do that all the time, you know. They stick up a quotation they see somewhere without citing the source.

Those people however, may not have as many English majors and other literary types in their list of friends and followers as I. As soon as that update went live on Facebook, a few word-loving women engaged in the comments. One friend was using that quote in a project of her own, but hadn’t heard that it was connected to McLuhan. She asked where I found it.

Before I had a chance to type up the Relevant Magazine info, another friend responded that some people claim William Blake said it, providing this link from EnglishClub.com.

I tapped out my source: Sept-Oct 2010 Relevant Magazine, “What’s Actually on Your Mind?” By Shane Hipps. Page 74. Here is the actual sentence from the article, with proper in-text credit, as I should have presented it:

“In the simplest terms, to quote Marshall McLuhan, we become what we behold.” (Hipps 74)

Out of respect, gratitude, and a desire to do the right and legal thing, it’s essential to cite the source, to point to the origin, to give credit where credit is due.

Give Credit Where Credit is Due

I blush to realize I hadn’t clearly done so myself that day.

School is about to start, so I’m busily preparing documents for the writing class I’ll be teaching. One of the first things we cover is plagiarism. I use explanations and definitions from Plagiarism.org in my presentation (I recommend reading their FAQ page for an overview). As we discuss plagiarism and its consequences, many of these students learn for the first time in their lives that plagiarism is a kind of theft (Starr).

I tell students that they need to cite the source not only for every direct quotation but also for every piece of information they use in a paper.

“Even if I put it in my own words?” they ask.

“Even if you put it in your own words,” I answer. “That’s a paraphrase, but it’s based on another person’s idea and you have to say so. Same if you summarize. It’s still someone else’s idea and you need to cite the source to give them credit.”

“What if we don’t by accident?” a student invariably asks. “What if we accidentally leave it out but don’t mean to?”

I give them the hard news: even if they unintentionally plagiarize, they’re still held responsible.

My students are quality kids who want to do the right thing. At this point in the discussion, they’re scared. “What can we do?” they ask.

“Cite your sources,” I say, urging them to keep track of every book, article, television show, website, or email as they watch, listen, read and research. As they’re working, they should collect all of the information they need for MLA format, which is the formatting and style I require. “I’d rather see a paper peppered with in-text citations and a long list of sources on the Works Cited page than to have you leave something off. When in doubt, cite.

Test your understanding of plagiarism via this Information Literacy project or this quiz from Empire State College.

Citation Online: Blogs

Since I began blogging, I’ve tried to include names and hyperlinks that help readers track back to the source I’m citing, but are links enough? Do readers realize that I’ve used technology to “credit” the source when they see words highlighted in blue?From this point forward, I want to offer more.

Attribution Policy Statement

Adrienne L. Massanari and Meghan Dougherty of The Center for Digital Ethics and Policy wrote “Best Practices for Bloggers: Dimensions for Consideration.” They recommend bloggers create an attribution policy statement:

Include a standard for how you will indicate attributions in your posts and how you expect readers to indicate attribution of cited material in comments. Also include a policy on reuse of your original content. (digitalethics.org)

An attribution policy statement seems like an important step. Stay tuned. I’ll be working on that.

MLA Format for Citations on Blogs

On my blog, is it enough to hyperlink to the source, or should I be using MLA?My work is my intellectual property, just as the work of other writers, poets, photographers, bloggers and journalists is theirs. I expect people to honor my rights; I would be a hypocrite if I failed to respect the intellectual copyright of others. It shouldn’t matter if it takes more time; I shouldn’t be lazy. I should give credit where credit is due.

I am more convinced than ever that I should cite as thoroughly as possible using a clear, standardized format for doing so. Rather than reinvent the wheel or come up with my own special method, I am going to use MLA format.{resisting urge to sigh}I want to do this and I’m going to commit. It means I have to pay more attention to my sources, coming up with a meticulous note-taking system. When I use a quote, paraphrase or summary, I’ll have to connect it with the correct source, insert the in-text citation, create the works cited section, double-check that any automated citations are in their correct form…It means I have to do what I expect of my students.

And much as I hate to admit it, that’s a very good thing.

Out of habit, I’ll hyperlink, but I’ll try to add sources at the bottom of each page.

Simplifying the Work of Citation

PlagiarismToday.com offers many thoughts on plagiarism and citation. They even hunted down a WordPress plugin, netblog, though I can’t figure it out.

An alternative: Use easybib.com or create the “works cited” info and format by hand.

For the classic approach, turn to the OWL at Purdue University. They have plenty of examples to help a blogger put together a proper works cited page or section. You refer to their samples and type them up yourself. Sometimes, believe it or not, I have found it faster to create a citation myself than to rely on automation via easybib.

Whatever method I end up using, I intend to have a works cited info follow each post. For today’s post, I used easybib.com and pasted in the results below. Here’s the public link, created by EasyBib (although one source that I manually inputted was left out).

Citing on my blog seems doable; a trickier challenge is to cite on social media.

Citation Online: Social Media

Social media is what started this whole citation journey for me: my lack of citation in a Facebook update. How do I manage citations on Facebook? How do I give full credit on Twitter when so few characters are available?

Create a Satellite Citation Site

Here’s my only idea so far.

For Twitter, I’m thinking of creating a satellite website that can house citations. In fact, I don’t even have to create one, as I have an underused Tumblr account where I could publish information that doesn’t fit in a tweet or a Facebook update. The tweet, therefore, would have the quote and then a link, directing followers and friends to a more thorough explanation with citation info included.

What do you think? Is that enough?

I could do the same with Facebook, or perhaps I could use the Notes section as the location of longer citations?

More experimentation needed in this area.

Summary

I will continue to create hyperlinks within my posts, but to practice what I preach in the areas of plagiarism and citation, I will try to do more in-text citation, as well. I also intend to include a Works Cited page at the bottom of each blog post, adding any extra copyright information in brackets after the citation (such as Creative Commons licensing or other permissions).

Until I come up with a better plan for social media, I will create a Works Cited page at my Tumblr blog or in the Notes section of my Facebook page.

In today’s post, I will create hanging indents, but I might not do it every time (requires minor html coding).

Finally, anyone who has opinions, ideas, solutions, or recommendations, by all means chime in.

Works Cited

Bailey, Jonathan. “Using MLA and APA Citations On Your Blog.” Plagiarism Today. N.p., 18 Jan. 2011. Web. 12 Aug. 2012. <http://www.plagiarismtoday.com/2011/01/18/using-mla-and-apa-citations-on-your-blog/>.

Blake, William. “We Become What We Behold.” We Become What We Behold. EnglishClub.com, n.d. Web. 12 Aug. 2012. <http://www.englishclub.com/ref/esl/Quotes/Life/We_become_what_we_behold._2554.htm>.

Credit Is Due (The Attribution Song). Dir. Nina Paley. Perf. Bliss Blood. QuestionCopyright.org, n.d. YouTube.com. YouTube. QuestionCopyright.org, 27 June 2011. Web. 12 Aug. 2012. <http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dPtH2KPuQbs>. [Creative Commons Attribution license (reuse allowed)]

Hipps, Shane. “What’s [Actually] on Your Mind?”. Relevant Magazine. Sept.-Oct. 2010: 73-77. Print.

Massanari, Adrienne L. “Best Practices for Bloggers: Dimensions for Consideration.” Center for Digital Ethics and Policy. Loyola University, 2 Aug. 2012. Web. 12 Aug. 2012. <http://digitalethics.org/resources/best-practices-for-bloggers-dimensions-for-consideration/>.

“Plagiarism FAQs.” Plagiarism.org. IParadigms LLC, n.d. Web. 12 Aug. 2012.

Starr, Karen. “Plagiarism: What It Is.” Plagiarism 101: How to Write Term Papers Without Being Sucked into the Black Hole. Library at the University at Albany, 2002. Web. 12 Aug. 2012. <http://library.albany.edu/usered/plagiarism/>.

Stolley, Karl, and Joshua M. Paiz. “Is It Plagiarism Yet?” Purdue OWL: Avoiding Plagiarism. Purdue University, 4 Apr. 2010. Web. 12 Aug. 2012. <http://owl.english.purdue.edu/owl/resource/589/2/>.

“What is Plagiarism?” Plagiarism.org, n.d. Web. 12 Aug. 2012. <http://www.plagiarism.org/learning_center/what_is_plagiarism.html> [From Plagiarism.org: REPRINT & USAGE RIGHTS: In the interest of disseminating this information as widely as possible, plagiarism.org grants all reprint and usage requests without the need to obtain any further permission as long as the URL of the original article/information is cited.]

The post The Case for Citation appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

(smaller button below)

Here at the Food on Fridays carnival, any post remotely related to food is welcome—though we love to try new dishes, your post doesn’t have to be a recipe. If you want to tell us about the first person who taught you to cook, that’s great. Posts like that are as welcome as menus and recipes.When your Food on Fridays contribution is ready, just grab the broccoli button (the big one above or smaller option at the bottom) to paste at the top of your post and join us through Simply Linked (a new tool I’m trying out this week).Here’s a Mr. Linky tutorial:

Write up a post, publish, then return here and click on Mr. Linky below. A screen will pop up where you can type in your blog name and paste in the url to your own Food on Fridays post (give us the exact link to your Food on Fridays page, not just the link to your blog).You can also visit other people’s posts by clicking on Mr. Linky and then clicking participants’ names–you should be taken straight to their posts.Please note: I’ll do my best to update this post by hand. In the meantime, please click on the Mister Linky logo to view the complete list.

Food on Fridays Participants

Food on Fridays with Charity!This week at High Calling Blogs (HCB), we launched a writing project called “You Are Real,” inviting network bloggers to write about connections they’ve made—real connections—with other bloggers. People throughout the HCB community are swapping posts. Charity Singleton of Wide Open Spaces is my guest blogger today for Food on Fridays, and I’m appearing at her place. Click HERE to read my post for today.So… may I introduce to you my new and very real friend, Charity Singleton:Long before I drove the 20 minutes to Ann Kroeker’s house, I knew we were both Hoosiers. She had told me so on Facebook.Before I ever sat with Ann on her patio and talked about organic farming, I knew she pulled her weeds by hand. She wrote about once in an email.And before I had the chance to sit at the dinner table with her and her children or drink a cup of her husband’s strong coffee, I knew Ann cared deeply about her family. I read about them in one of her posts on The High Calling Blogs.By the time I actually met Ann, we were already friends.

—

Developing relationships online is relatively new for me. Until about four years ago, I thought of the internet as nothing more than a tool. I used it for researching recipes, sending emails, and occasionally buying a book or an airline ticket. But then, I started writing a blog.Blogging gave me a way to claim a little space of my own out in cyberspace. As an aspiring writer, I had hoped it would be like hanging my virtual shingle. As it turned out, it was more like creating a home where I could invite people in. And the community that eventually developed is what this “We are Real” project is all about.It was my very first contact in the blogging world that providentially made my online life “real.” Ironically, I met her first in person at a writing conference. But since we lived several states away, our friendship quickly took to the ‘net.In those early days of blogging, I wasn’t always sure what to make of it, what would become of it. Back in 2006, I posted this comment on my friend’s blog: “Blogging is just another hue on the increasingly gray-scale palette of my life. Sometimes good, sometimes bad. Sometimes a waste of time. Sometimes a perfectly useful way to process. Never always one way.”Then I was diagnosed with cancer. I hadn’t been blogging much in the few months prior. I was restless and distracted. The relationships I had started to build online seemed easy to set aside in favor of the drama that was unfolding in my real life. But I knew the people I was avoiding were real, too, and were probably wondering where I was. So I told them.Two days later, I found myself in the hospital.I know it was God’s providence that I reached out to my online community like I did just days before cancer. He knew I would need their support, would need their words of encouragement. When I finally made it home after a couple of weeks in the hospital and gathered the energy to post what I had been through, the response was overwhelming. Our relationship wasn’t just bits and bytes floating through cyberspace. It was real.Through continued connections with this same community that supported me through the ups and downs of cancer treatment and recovery, my path eventually crossed with Ann. Because we already knew each other online and had many mutual friends there, it was only natural to meet in person when we discovered we lived only 20 minutes apart.

—

The other thing you should know about my relationship with Ann, however, is this. Long before we ever sat at my table and enjoyed zucchini brownies, and long before we sat at her table sharing a plate of cookies, I knew Ann likes food. I read about it here, on a Friday.One of our first interactions came as a result of her now famous steel cut oatmeal recipe. And since then, every time we’ve met there’s been some type of food exchange, including the zucchini dumping (er, I mean “gifting”) that I did the morning we went running togetherThese online relationships, they’re real alright. Ann has the zucchini to prove it.

—

In the tradition of Food on Fridays, here’s a great recipe for artisan bread I shared with Ann recently. It is from Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day: The Discovery that Revolutionizes Home Baking by Jeff Hertzberg and Zoe Francois (Thomas Dunne Books, 2007).Serves 4Note: This recipe must be prepared in advance.

• 1-1/2 tablespoons granulated yeast (about 1-1/2 packets)
• 1-1/2 tablespoons kosher salt
• 6-1/2 cups unbleached flour, plus extra for dusting dough
• Cornmeal

In a large plastic resealable container, mix yeast and salt into 3 cups lukewarm (about 100 degrees) water. Using a large spoon, stir in flour, mixing until mixture is uniformly moist with no dry patches. Do not knead. Dough will be wet and loose enough to conform to shape of plastic container. Cover, but not with an airtight lid.Let dough rise at room temperature, until dough begins to flatten on top or collapse, at least 2 hours and up to 5 hours. (At this point, dough can be refrigerated up to 2 weeks; refrigerated dough is easier to work with than room-temperature dough, so the authors recommend that first-time bakers refrigerate dough overnight or at least 3 hours.)When ready to bake, sprinkle cornmeal on a pizza peel. Place a broiler pan on bottom rack of oven. Place baking stone on middle rack and preheat oven to 450 degrees, preheating baking stone for at least 20 minutes.Sprinkle a little flour on dough and on your hands. Pull dough up and, using a serrated knife, cut off a grapefruit-size piece (about 1 pound). Working for 30 to 60 seconds (and adding flour as needed to prevent dough from sticking to hands; most dusting flour will fall off, it’s not intended to be incorporated into dough), turn dough in hands, gently stretching surface of dough, rotating ball a quarter-turn as you go, creating a rounded top and a bunched bottom.Place shaped dough on prepared pizza peel and let rest, uncovered, for 40 minutes. Repeat with remaining dough or refrigerate it in lidded container. (Even one day’s storage improves flavor and texture of bread. Dough can also be frozen in 1-pound portions in airtight containers and defrosted overnight in refrigerator prior to baking day.) Dust dough with flour.Using a serrated knife, slash top of dough in three parallel, 1/4-inch deep cuts (or in a tic-tac-toe pattern). Slide dough onto preheated baking stone. Pour 1 cup hot tap water into broiler pan and quickly close oven door to trap steam. Bake until crust is well-browned and firm to the touch, about 30 minutes. Remove from oven to a wire rack and cool completely.

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If I waited for the perfect conditions to develop my writing life, I’d still be waiting.

Back in the early 1990s, I did manage to explore writing as my work, as a way of life. I wrote and submitted a few magazine articles and met with businesses to launch a career in corporate freelance writing. Then we started our family. Our first three children were born within four years of each other (the fourth came along a few years later).

Consumed by the demands and intensity of young motherhood, I could have shoved my computer screen, pen and notebook into a closet for about twelve years and waited until the conditions were right. I could have waited until my oldest two girls were old enough to babysit the younger two. I could have waited until I had a little office or study or library or nook to call my own. I could have waited until I had long chunks of uninterrupted time.

Instead, I wrote.

I wrote when the kids were napping. I wrote late at night. I wrote in my head when I took them for a walk to the park and scribbled down my ideas when they were eating a snack.

I stole time.

Sometimes I wrote well, but most of what I wrote served as compost, breaking down in my mind, heart, and spirit to feed new and potentially better ideas. Regardless of the quality of what I produced, I wrote. I practiced. I learned.

And I read. With a book tucked in my diaper bag or purse, I could steal a moment now and then to consume some new thought written by authors I respected, whose information I craved, whose ideas would feed the glowing coals of creativity that glimmered softly inside of me as I changed diapers, swept Cheerios and scraped hunks of banana from the high chair tray.

I kept the energy of writing alive during those hectic years, and when the flame flashed, I’d try to grab something on which to write, even if it meant borrowing a crayon and scribble pad that the kids were using for stick-people adventure stories.

This made for a spontaneous, messy writing life. Scraps of paper strewn on the kitchen table or nightstand represented that flash of insight I managed to scratch onto the back of an envelope. Life with newborns and toddlers required tremendous focus and energy, leaving little chance for a regular schedule. I grabbed opportunities when I could, leaving a trail of pens and paper throughout the house and shoved into cup holders in the car.

I identified with other writer-moms, such as Barbara Kingsolver. She would read about rituals of other authors who had seemingly endless time to create the writing mood—hours of photography or flower arranging before sitting at the desk to compose one word. She quoted one author who described his muse at length. Kingsolver, a busy mom with no time for flower-arranging, had to write with the time she was given. She described her own muse:

My muse wears a baseball cap, backward. The minute my daughter is on the school bus, he saunters up behind me with a bat slung over his shoulder and says oh so directly, “Okay, author lady, you’ve got six hours till that bus rolls back up the drive. You can sit down and write, now, or you can think about looking for a day job.” (p. 96, High Tide in Tucson, Barbara Kingsolver)

Kingsolver understands the limitations of motherhood and the challenge of writing in the midst of it. She quotes Lucille Clifton responding to the question “Why are your poems always short?” Ms. Clifton replied, “I have six children, and a memory that can hold about twenty lines until the end of the day.”

Clifton encouraged me to plan out my work mentally while I’m on-the-go, storing up thoughts until the end of the day, when the kids were in bed and the words could spill out.

My kids are much older now; my conditions remain imperfect but are much more conducive to writing. My children are more independent—my oldest has her driver’s permit. But it seems I still have to steal time.

Apparently the conditions for writing will never be perfect.

I need to be reminded of this again and again. Julia Cameron, in The Right to Write says:

The ‘if-I-had-time’ lie is a convenient way to ignore the fact that novels require being written and that writing happens a sentence at a time. Sentences can happen in a moment. Enough stolen moments, enough stolen sentences, and a novel is born–without the luxury of time…

Yes, it is daunting to think of finding time to write an entire novel, but it is not so daunting to think of finding time to write a paragraph, even a sentence. And paragraphs, made of sentences, are what novels are really made of. (p. 14, 15, The Right to Write, Julia Cameron)

This reminds me of a quote I heard at the Festival of Faith & Writing in 2010. Author Parker Palmer said:

If you can’t write a book, write a bunch of essays. If you can’t write a bunch of essays, write a bunch of paragraphs. If you can’t write a bunch of paragraphs, write lines. If you can’t write lines, write some words. And if you can’t write some words, write your truth with your own life, which is far more important than any book. (Parker Palmer at the Festival of Faith & Writing 2010)

Poets, bloggers, novelists, creative nonfiction writers, essayists, letter writers, journalists, composers; we must all get to work. Write a book, essays, paragraphs, lines, or just write a few words, but for heaven’s sake—be sure to write with your life.

No matter what complicates schedules—whether you have a full-time job or you’re a full-time caregiver—write what you can, when you can. Because the conditions are never perfect. 

___________________________________

52 Creative Writing Prompts: A Year of Weekly Prompts and Exercises to Boost Your Creativity

Sure, you can poke around the Internet collecting writing prompts and creative writing exercises.

Or you could buy an ebook that collects them for you in one place.

Convenient.

Inspiring.

Affordable.

Learn more

The post Imperfect Conditions appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

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The post Festival of Faith & Writing 2010: Friday Highlights appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

Writers write to be heard, which means writers must brace themselves for input, whether it ends up being destructive criticism or health critique. J.C. Schaap describes this kind of input among students in his blog post “Witless Fear and Hug Lines.”

In it, he tells how scary it is for a student to lay out something he or she has written in front of her peers and “let them go at it.” I remember classes like that. They were painful.

We turned in a poem or story to the teacher, who made copies to pass out in class. He would hand us a packet with a submission from every student. One by one we critiqued each piece, pointing out what worked (and what didn’t), trying to explain why it worked (or didn’t). For the young and/or insecure writer, this process can be discouraging and at worst, destructive, demeaning the person for taking creative risks and trying something new. If handled well by the instructor, however, the input can be invaluable, making us (and our work) stronger, pointing out weak spots that need editing.

Some of Schaap’s students sent e-mails telling him that they were scared, witless. So he gave them a trial run with an anonymous piece he found in his files. At first, they were reluctant to say anything negative. But someone spotted a scene in the story that seemed unrealistic and hesitantly pointed it out. That first comment opened up the rest of the class, and Schaap reported that “condemnation starting rolling down like justice is supposed to. Right before my eyes, a bandwagon appeared.” He continued:

There was a hangin’ coming, I knew, so I told the madding crowd that next week—when their own workshopping begins—the same darn thing is likely to happen, only they’ll be looking at the actual writer, not thinking of her in the abstract, because next week the writers R US or whatever.

That quieted the mob into stony silence.

Teaching can be fun. If it wasn’t, I’d quit in a minute.

“So,” one of them says, meekly, “when we’re done, can we have a hug line?”

If we know we’re helping people become stronger writers, our critique can be constructive; especially when followed up by specific encouragement … and a hug.

This weekend I received a comment at an abandoned blog associated with a long-ignored website I created in 2001. On that website, I published some poetry. Someone apparently visited the poetry page.

This person saw that there was no convenient way to leave a comment (that website is static, without a familiar blog-platform), yet he or she was motivated enough to find the old blog (which would have required a click or two) and leave an anonymous comment. Anonymous went to all that trouble to tell me this:

“Your poetry—it sucks. I mean, it really sucks. Really.”

Everyone is entitled to his or her opinion.

But if someone studied my poetry closely enough to form that strong opinion, I wouldn’t mind finding out what he or she thought made the poems “suck” so badly.

In her opinion, how could I improve these poems? What should I practice? Is there something this person would recommend that I could try in the future? This one comment has reminded me that when I review and critique someone’s work—especially something as personal as poetry—I need to be constructive.

For those who may be involved in a writing group or workshop, check out “The Difference between Critique and Criticism,” from Scribe’s Alley:

• Criticism finds fault/Critique looks at structure
• Criticism looks for what’s lacking/Critique finds what’s working
• Criticism condemns what it doesn’t understand/Critique asks for clarification
• Criticism is spoken with a cruel wit and sarcastic tongue/Critique’s voice is kind, honest, and objective
• Criticism is negative/Critique is positive (even about what isn’t working)
• Criticism is vague and general/Critique is concrete and specific
• Criticism has no sense of humor/Critique insists on laughter, too
• Criticism looks for flaws in the writer as well as the writing/Critique addresses only what is on the page

Taken from Writing Alone, Writing Together; A Guide for Writers and Writing Groups by Judy Reeves

Specific, insightful, kind critique is welcomed. This can be gleaned from a healthy writing group (learn more about forming writing groups in Charity Singleton Craig’s article at Tweetspeak), a trusted writing partner or colleague, a writing coach (as a coach, I offer clients ongoing constructive, encouraging input), or a gentle editor.

The cry for gentle, kind, constructive input comes from so many of us. Even Emily Dickinson:

This is my letter to the world,
That never wrote to me,
—The simple news that Nature told,
With tender majesty.
Her message is committed
To hands I cannot see;
For love of her, sweet countrymen,
Judge tenderly of me!

Writers have to develop a thick skin and deal with criticism, even that which is destructive. But when we are dealing with someone else’s words, whether in the form of a poem, post or story, we would do well to assume that they would like our input followed up by a “hug line” and that their heart’s cry is: “Judge tenderly of me!”

* * *

Flickr photo “Making Poetry” by Aurelio Asiain available under a Creative Commons license for noncommercial use, requiring attribution and no derivative work. Post originally published in 2010; updated with minor edits and updated links August 2015.

The post Destructive Criticism vs. Healthy Critique appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

Here at the Food on Fridays carnival, any post remotely related to food is welcome—your link could be a recipe like your favorite Colts blue Superbowl party dip, but it does not have to be a recipe. If it’s about shopping at Trader Joe’s or your review of “Julie & Julia,” go ahead and link up! Think of it as a virtual pitch-in where you can sample what everyone brings and have a great time.When your Food on Fridays contribution is ready, just grab the broccoli button (the big one above or smaller option at the bottom) to paste at the top of your post and join us through Mr. Linky.Here’s a Mr. Linky tutorial:

Write up a post, publish, then return here and click on Mr. Linky below. A screen will pop up where you can type in your blog name and paste in the url to your own Food on Fridays post (give us the exact link to your Food on Fridays page, not just the link to your blog).You can also visit other people’s posts by clicking on Mr. Linky and then clicking participants’ names–you should be taken straight to their posts.Please note: I return when possible during the day and update this post by hand to include a list of the links provided via Mr. Linky. If I can’t get to the computer to do so, you may access them all by clicking on the Mister Linky logo.

Food on Fridays Participants

Food on Fridays with Ann

Today I want to introduce you to my friend L.L. Barkat. We met at the 2008 Festival of Faith & Writing, where we sat in the spring sunshine munching our pre-ordered box lunches and talked about writing, publishing, editors and agents. Little did I know that a year or so later, she would contact me in her role as Managing Editor at HighCallingBlogs (HCB) to ask me to serve as a volunteer contributor and later as a Content Editor. It’s been a privilege and pleasure following her work online, reading her published works, and now working with her through HCB.Ann: L.L., first off, what’s your all-time favorite recipe? Will you share it with Food on Fridays readers?LL Barkat: I have so many favorites! Here’s a Greek recipe I love. If you prefer to make it with beef, that can work too. But I’m a veggie girl, so…Greek Roasted Vegetables and ChickpeasAdd all to a large rectangular casserole dish and cover with aluminum foil. Roast at 400 degrees for about 2 hours or until very tender. Remove foil, lower heat to 350 and roast for another 15 minutes or until nicely browned…• assorted vegetables chopped chunky, such as turnip, carrot, potato, celery, red onion• 1 can or 1 1/2 cups dry and pre-cooked chickpeas (or 1 lb. beef if you prefer, sautéed first until brown)• 1 TB balsamic vinegar• 1 TB worcestershire sauce• 4 large garlic, minced• 1/2 jar Muir Glen Sauce• 1 TB Muir Glen tomato paste• 1 tsp. cinnamon• 1/2 tsp. nutmeg• 1/2 tsp. allspice• 1/2 tsp. ground clove• 1/4 cup red wine• a few pours olive oil• 2 cups water (add more as needed throughout, for desired sauce consistency)Finish…Add salt and pepper to taste and a few pours of olive oil. Mix in a handful or two of raisins.Serve over any kind of flat noodle, with salad or other green vegetable. The rich spices are an excellent complement to the mild flavor of chickpeas.Ann: Mmmm….I’ll bet the kitchen smells great while it’s roasting. Well, now that we’re off to a delicious start, let’s talk a little about HCB and your role as Managing Editor. Your Post “5 Things a Blog Network Can Do for You”  is a great overview of HCB. How would you describe your Managing Editor role?LL Barkat: It is my absolute dream job. I get to be social, strategize, write, host Twitter parties, go to conferences, work with Editors. Wow! I love it.The cool thing is that it happened because I started by volunteering, and then HCB entered a time of expansion and new funding (which, btw, should still be a trend going into next year, so HCB is a good place to watch for opportunities).Ann: How you do all that you do is beyond me—Managing Editor at HCB, keeping up three blogs, raising and educating two beautiful daughters, learning all about social networking trends, writing books and generating poetry—even hosting poetry parties! You lead Random Acts of Poetry at HCB and host poetry jam sessions through @tspoetry. How do you do it all?LL Barkat: Synergy. Everything I do works together. The Twitter parties, for instance, are also something I use to feed Random Acts of Poetry at HCB. And some of my best poems in InsideOut came from material I wrote during the parties. At my Green Inventions blog I process thoughts about education and technology. At Love Notes to Yahweh I think out loud about chapters I’m writing or material that I need to reflect on for talks.After blogging for more than 3 years, I found I had to approach on-line life this way or I’d burn out.Ann: Synergy. I like that. Now, I have to be honest with you, L.L. @tspoetry still  intimidates me a little. I don’t completely understand how it works. Can you explain it to us? And did your Lazy Blogger’s Tuna Casserole post flow from a @tspoetry party?LL Barkat: Oh, the Twitter parties are so much fun. @tspoetry announces the time (which is usually 9:30-10:30 pm EST every other Tuesday night), then we all get on Twitter and write poetry together. @tspoetry gives prompts, which we respond to. But we also lift and turn each other’s words. It’s challenging, hilarious, sometimes poignant. Check out http://tweetspeakpoetry.com/blog for more info on how to come to a party.Casseroles on Twitter! That post you’re referring to was just me keeping myself company on New Year’s Eve. I was cooking and tweeting and suddenly… The Lazy Blogger’s Tuna Casserole.Ann: I think the foodies here at Food on Fridays might be particularly interested in the food posts at Green Inventions, like your vegetarian dishes and The 30-Day Recipes. Any advice on what they should explore?LL Barkat: I’d probably start in the sidebar, at the recipe list. Or… I don’t know. Maybe begin with your favorite bean? Ann: You’re a woman of great spiritual depth and intellectual curiosity. You explore and express ideas, prayer, creativity and faith through words and art (and food!). One avenue is through blogging at Seedlings in Stone and, as you already mentioned, Love Notes to Yahweh and Green Inventions Central. How do each of these blogs capture/reflect some aspect of who you are?LL Barkat: Sometimes people ask me why I have three separate blogs (it’s not very effective for getting the most Google juice ). But the fun is I can be different things to different audiences; yet it’s the same old me. Writing about all the stuff I love: art, food, spiritual practice, writing, technology, education.Ann: Your book Stone Crossings was recently released when we met at that Festival. You’ve also recently released a book of poetry with International Arts Movement, Inside Out. In keeping with the food theme, would you share “Page 5,” the poem on p. 100-101? I’ll leave my readers with your words.LL Barkat: How delightful. Sure, here it is…Page 5The menusays strawberryshortcakewith whipped creambut here’s the deal:I remember what’s real,my mother’s child-smallhands turning floursugar, shorteningthe “size of a big egg”so the old recipeinstructed. I remembersun-kissed fields offurrows, hills mygrandmother’s roughpatched yet paintedhands turned and raisedto grow strawberries blushedand bleeding real juice,not perfumed waterthat pretends ripenesscut and strewn over too-sweet cake. I remembercream, real, whipped.

“Greek Roasted Vegetables” photo © 2007 by LL Barkat. Used with permission.

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“Nestled Apple” photo by Ann Kroeker (2009).

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Someone published the dialogue from that scene in an essay both here and here, so I pulled from that source to post it. The interaction originated from the film:

Adams: In the courtroom, whoever tells the best story, wins. What is their story, by the way?

Jodson: Sir?

Adams: What is their story?

Jodson:  They’re from West Africa.

Adams: No, what is their story?

(Jodson remains silent, looking puzzled.)

Adams: Mr. Jodson, where are you from originally?

Jodson: Georgia.

Adams: Is that who you are, a Georgian? Is that your story? No, you’re an ex-slave who’s devoted his life to the abolition of slavery and overcome great obstacles and hardships along the way, I should imagine. That’s your story, isn’t it?

(Jodson nods, slowly, with a slight smile.)

Adams: You have proven you know what they are. They’re Africans. Congratulations. What you don’t know—and as far as I can tell haven’t bothered in the least to discover—is who they are. (Cunningham 1151)

I can fairly easily answer the question What am I?

I’m a wife, mom, writer, coach.

But the more compelling question is Who am I … What’s my story?

And what’s next? What’s the next line of my story? The next scene? The next page? The next chapter?

As we try to discover the story that’s been written thus far, we have an opportunity to find themes in the unfolding of the years and purpose in the unfolding of our days.

When we get an idea of our story, we can understand better who we are—and who we want to be.

* * *

Works Cited:
Amistad. Dir. Steven Spielberg. Perf. Morgan Freeman, Nigel Hawthorne, Anthony Hopkins, Djimon Hounsou, Matthew McConaughey, David Paymer, Pete Postlethwaite, and Stellan Skarsgard. DreamWorks, 1997. DVD.
Cunningham, Clark D.  “But What Is Their Story?” Emory Law Journal. Vol . 52 Special Edition (2003): 1151. Web. 15 Nov. 2009. <http://law.gsu.edu/Communication/Emory.pdf>.

Image by: Ivan Prole. “Notebook with spiral and red cover.” 2009. stock.xchng. Web. 15 Nov. 2009.

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“Copyright Infringement” by Terry Hart

I was asked to talk with the literature students about plagiarism.

After introducing the topic and explaining a little about it, I summarized with the following statements:

1. Don’t present someone else’s ideas as your own—if you do, you’re stealing his or her intellectual property.

2. You are welcome to share other people’s insights, ideas and wording, if you give credit where credit is due.

(These ideas are presented in similar form at this Indiana University site.)

After class, I felt that they needed more information. So when I got home, I found some plagiarism tutorials. Going through the tutorials served as a good refresher for me not only as an instructor/facilitator of this literature class but also as a blogger.

We all hate it when we see one our own blog posts picked up and presented on another site as if it is original material.

But we need to be careful, too, when we are inspired by someone else, to give credit where credit is due.

Because I read so many tips, ideas, solutions and stories on blogs, websites and tweets, sometimes I’m not sure how something comes together in my brain. Nevertheless, I’m convinced that I need to be as careful and honoring as possible to those who have created original content that worked its way into my world. I have always tried to link you to the original article(s) from which I found inspiration and provide appropriate references.

After researching this topic, I resolve not only to continue my efforts but also to improve my practices.

As bloggers, we need to be careful to give credit where credit is due.

If you want to learn more about plagiarism and how to avoid it in your writing, here is a cute tutorial found at the Vaughan Memorial Library (Acadia University) website. It gives a good overview. I suggested that the students pick “Dylan” when they get to that step in the tutorial, as he fits our class. I think he would be the best “blogger” student, as well, so I suggest you pick him to walk you through.

If you want a more thorough tutorial, try this one from Indiana University (see the following links). The sample readings are a bit dry, but this tutorial illustrates very well how to spot plagiarism in your work (and how to fix it):

1. How to Recognize Plagiarism
2. Five Examples of Word for Word Plagiarism (go through these to prepare for the practice quiz)
3. Five Examples of Paraphrasing Plagiarism (go through these, too, to prepare for the practice quiz)
4. Practice: How to Recognize Plagiarism (this is the quiz—read each example and select the entry [click choice A or B] that you think has not been plagiarized to test your understanding. Immediate feedback provided.)

With ideas zipping and zapping across the World Wide Web in the form of tweets, posts and articles, it’s hard to remember precisely what impacted or inspired us to write something. And it’s a huge challenge to track every slightly interesting stop as we surf and explore content.

Yet, this is one of the recommendations provided in the tutorials—students doing research are urged to record every resource from which they might cite something either paraphrased or as a direct quote.

How do you track potential resources for your blog posts?

What are your plagiarism-avoidance techniques?

“Copyright Infringement” comic by “hartboy/Terry Hart” available at Flickr for download under a Creative Commons license for non-commercial use.

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(photo credit: Queen of the Castle Recipes)

At Queen of the Castle Recipes, Lynn has graciously allowed me to share a few thoughts on food and slowing down. I included two European recipes, because from my visits to Belgium and France, I get the idea that they know how to slow down. About Belgium, I wrote:

[E]veryone in the country knows how to stop mid-morning and enjoy a leisurely coffee break. In fact, this might come as a shock, but vehicles in Belgium don’t come with standard cupholders … maybe Belgians would rather wait until they can sit down at home or a café and truly enjoy sipping it while nibbling a Speculoo cookie. I suppose we could argue that the caffeine from all that coffee negates their slow-down tendencies, but in general, Belgians seem to know how to hit the pause button.

2. High Calling Blogs

(photo credit: me)

If you’ve never been to HighCallingBlogs.com, you’re in for a treat. Not because of what I’ve written, though I did just publish an article for their “family” category, but because the bloggers in this online community are posting wonderful material covering a wide range of topics, including work, faith, and culture, as well as family. There are featured blogs and then you could spend weeks visiting those in the broader network.3. The Harvest ShowAt 9:00 a.m. today (9:00 on 9-9-09), I was interviewed live on “The Harvest Show.” You can watch online HERE (select the Wednesday, September 9 show).

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Would James recommend we be slow to tweet (or Facebook, or blog)?

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Join Mega Memory Month for the month of July!

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Share your stories—no matter how raw or difficult. Share you concerns—no matter how foolish they may seem. Share your wisdom—no matter how you came by it. Share your mother story. The only request? Start the letter “Dear Mother” and sign it. I will compile all of the letters in a Christmas book for my wife.

In response, many mothers’ hearts stream down the comments under this post at the site. You can submit your Mother Letter there, but apparently many others have been submitted to him via e-mail, as well. And some, like the one I’m offering, are also posted at the blog of the letter’s author.As his invitation has spread across the mama-blogosphere, moms are offering what bits of wisdom and insight they’ve gained thus far in their parenting adventure. And I can’t help but think of the lesson I was reminded of in my recent moment of Ann-insecurity (would that be “Annsecurity”?)–that all the different stories and bits of advice are a reminder that motherhood is a multi-faceted, personal-yet-communal experience. Many stories should be told, because the specifics of one personal revelation may be just what’s needed for another mom to be encouraged.In other words, just as both Anns (this Ann and that Ann) along with thousands of other Anns and Susans and Helens and Elizabeths have blogs reflecting their unique ways of thinking and communicating, every mom has a letter to write to this mother.If you haven’t yet composed your mother letter, please consider participating. I know I’d love to read your letter, so I’m sure this woman, the recipient-Mother of The Mother Letter Project, will be blown away. Wouldn’t you like to be part of that?Here’s the letter I composed. I wanted to share it with you, as well.

Dear Mother,*Blink*That’s how fast it happens. I’m sure you’ve noticed it. When you brought home your newborn, you probably fell into some kind of rhythm and routine. Next thing you know…*Blink*Baby starts rolling over. And crawling.*Blink*Now he’s toddling and talking.*Blink*First day of first grade: he climbs onto the school bus with a cartoon-emblazoned lunchbox in hand, turns around to wave, smiles and “catches” every kiss you blow.*Blink*Eighth grade: he shuffles onto the school bus jamming to an iPod and glances back, hoping you don’t embarrass him publicly.*Blink*“Mom, can I have the car keys?”*Blink*You’re shopping for extra-long twin sheets for dorm room beds.Okay, I’m only speculating about the car keys and sheets. I’m not quite there yet—but it’s coming. Soon.I know, because…I’ve blinked.*Blink*Other moms warned me about the mom-blink.“Enjoy them while they’re little,” they’d advise. “Savor every moment now, because you just blink, and…oh, they grow up so fast!”I appreciated the sentiment, but no one would tell me how.How was I supposed to savor changing three-ton diapers, mopping spit-up off the kitchen floor and chasing after my toddler only to find him splashing his hands in the toilet water?How was I supposed to enjoy them while facing a mountain of laundry, and I was so tired the only way I could keep my eyes open was to prop them up with toothpicks and guzzle a jug of black tea…how?I’m the mother of two teens, an 11-year-old and a seven-year-old. So I can attest to what those moms were saying: they do grow up in the blink of an eye.Now I would like to offer something no one managed to pass on to me—an idea of how to enjoy and savor the kids while they’re little.I suppose it sounds like a no-brainer, but here it is:Slow down.Does that sound obvious? Forgive me, but it took me a little while to “get it.”I had to choose to slow down enough to look each child in the eye.I had to remember to slow down enough to smile…to laugh…to relax…to breathe deeply.In the early days of parenting, I wasn’t slowing down enough to listen to what my girls were really saying. I needed to learn to ask a follow-up question and listen a little longer.I grew to love slowing down enough to read a story… slowly…more than once.To play UNO and Monopoly. That takes a while!I love living slowly enough to sit down for a meal…at the table…and give thanks.You may already slow down enough to let your kids enjoy some free time to play uninterrupted. You’ve seen them build an imaginary fortress or fairy land, and your schedule may be flexible enough to just hang out with them and watch them build. Instead of dragging them off to the umpteenth organized activity, you may be living slowly enough to take them sledding.No, wait a minute. If you’re already living that slowly, you know you can let your husband take them sledding.While you sit and sip hot tea.And while you’re sitting there sipping tea, or coffee, or chai—not because you need the caffeine, but to enjoy the flavor and the smell and the feel of the warm mug against your hands—you yourself are slowing down. You’re stopping…stopping to savor these moments of motherhood that race past in a blink.When you slow down like that, when for a few minutes you forget Mount Laundry and the blob of spit-up on the kitchen floor, life isn’t such a blur.Living a slower life, you can see things more clearly. You’ll sit in the quiet and look out the window—really look—at the snow angels and lumpy snowmen formed by mittened hands in the back yard.You can feel.You can pray for your children…for their hearts, their souls, their just-a-blink-away futures.And when you do this, when you slow down like this, it’s okay to go ahead and blink. You can even shut your eyes for a few minutes and recall a look or a lisp or a laugh. You aren’t missing anything at all.Enjoy the peace.Later, you’ll open your eyes when the kids and your husband tumble in the back door, chunks of snow dropping from their snowsuits and boots…they’ll beg you for hot chocolate and popcorn. You’ll look at their pink-cheek grins and chattering teeth and crazy hair smashed and smooshed by their knit caps, and you’ll sigh. This. This is what those moms meant. And thank the Lord your life was slow enough to see it and savor it…and so was theirs.This is how.We all know that they grow up fast.All the more reason to slow down.Merry Christmas!Ann Kroeker

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Here are the rules:1. Write about 5 specific ways blogging has affected you, either positively or negatively.2. link back to the person who tagged you3. link back to this parent post (I’m not so much interested in generating links, but rather in tracking the meme so I can perhaps do a summary post later on that looks at patterns and interesting discoveries.)4. tag a few friends or five, or none at all5. post these rules— or just have fun breaking them

So. Why not?

5 Ways Blogging Changed My Life

1. Blogging introduced me to super cool people. L.L. herself is a great example of one major way blogging has changed my life–connecting with people in new, fun, unexpected ways. I wrote about the uncanny connections I made at the Festival of Faith and Writing. There I met several people I had previously only seen on the blogosphere–people I had followed on their blogs and admired for their intellect, creativity, wit, humor, insight, godliness, or other amazing qualities. I got to meet some of them at the event in person–some quite unexpectedly.

   Also, I love “meeting” people in the comments. You people are so smart. Clever. Open. Honest. Poetic. Encouraging. I never know what kind of comments will pop up, but I love every one of them. They make my day. I only wish I could keep up with commenting on the comments better!

2. Blogging has provided a satisfying creative outlet. The blog has given me a way to play with ideas and words as I explore things I’ve been thinking about from Scripture I’ve studied, books I’ve read, or articles that piqued my interest. I can also experiment with my writing and get some good daily practice selecting specific nouns and strong verbs, just like I learned in Creative Writing 101.
3. Blogging–other bloggers, that is–offers endless inspiration. I’m inspired by how others keep their blogs fresh and fun as well as those who maintain a level of honesty and openness that ministers to people deeply. They write a series, perhaps, or insert poetry. They might make theirs more like a women’s magazine with helpful articles or lean on it as a diary. So when I see what’s possible with photography and art and linkage and podcasts and such, I find myself inspired to try new things…someday I’ll surprise you with something other than a stream of nouns and verbs. Just wait. You’ll see. One of these days, I’ll stretch my creativity way outside my comfort zone.
4. Blogging has changed the way I read offline. Now I read things wondering if I can share some helpful tidbit with readers. I like to be helpful, and this has expanded that in ways I never would have imagined ten years ago. So when I read a magazine and tear out an interesting piece, I’m usually wondering if it would be helpful in some way to blog-readers. So you see? You’re on my mind, even while I’m flipping through Newsweek.
5. Blogging has replaced other hobbies. What did I do before blogging? How did I spend my free time? I guess I watched some TV. Now I blog.
6. Not blogging makes me…sad, I guess. Blogging has affected me so much that I hate it when I miss several days or have nothing valuable to offer and choose not to post. Maybe I’m not exactly sad, but I do hanker to get back to it after a break.   

Five–no, six–ways blogging has changed my life. No real earth-shatterers on that list, but it’s a peek into the current spot on the timeline of my personal blogging evolution.

Feel free to pick up on the meme if it interests you–after all, I’m sure that we’ve all been changed by blogging in some way.

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High School letter jacket in a brief, respectful snapshot.

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:)Thanx!

One time a candidate rushed to “friend” the potential employer on her personal Facebook page.Moves like these can feel as if the candidate is infringing on personal space.But it may simply be a cultural divide, reflecting an age gap in technology use, says an author named David Holtzman.Others see a shift in workplace communication, as “textspeak” is gaining acceptance. Soon, they think, it will be perfectly appropriate. Text messages are, after all, short and to the point.Thank you notes, even if sent electronically, should be composed in a formal style, like a traditional letter would be. This reassures the employer that as a new employee, the candidate would interact similarly with clients–avoiding textspeak and sticking with a professional tone and style.So this article brings to mind a few broader questions:

• How often do you text?
• When we text, are we really communicating? If so, how effective is it?
• Describe heavy texters’ ability to compose thoughtful, grammatically correct pieces (essays, letters, blog posts). Does it improve their communication, does quality decrease, or does it have a neutral effect on their formal work, being such a different format?
• How do abbreviations and emoticons in a blog post affect your opinion as a reader?
• Any predictions on whether or not texting will have a positive or negative effect on writing in general? Has it already?

 The topic is now open for discussion. The first 10 commenters will receive credit for 20 free AT&T text messages and a chance at a free iPhone.Not really.Maybe I’ll send you a book, instead. And some stationery. And a pen.Wud U luv that?

I [heart] U all!!!!

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• Laughter from upstairs. Two children putting dresses on stuffed animals.
• Neighborhood swimming pool. Having one’s own pool sounds like a lot of fun, but sharing the cost with neighbors and knowing there are lifeguards on duty is a mighty fine alternative.
• Books, books, books! Whether I’m enjoying the story of a fiction book or ideas and information from nonfiction, I’m grateful for books…and for the people who write and publish them.
• Blogs. What did we bloggers do before there were blogs? I guess we journaled. Or we just kept all of those words bottled up inside {shudder}.
• Modern Medicine. Eleven years ago, Belgian doctors accurately diagnosed and operated on The Belgian Wonder, saving his life after his aortic valve was destroyed by a bacterial infection. Today, strangely, his brother-in-law is in the same Belgian hospital, while doctors treat a dangerous infection in his leg. We also await the outcome of a friend’s cancer treatment. As we wait and pray, we’re grateful that God has allowed for advances in antibiotics and other technology and medicines–some of the many means by which surgeons and doctors can treat illness and disease.
• Dishwasher. Although we could live without a dishwasher and wash our plates and cups by hand, I’m still grateful to have the helping hand of our machine. We were able to find a water- and energy-efficient model, reducing my guilt at the frequent loading and unloading we deal with some days.
• Washing Machine. While we could certainly wash dishes by hand, I shudder to imagine washing clothes by hand. I know it can be done and was done for millenia and is done in other countries even now, but wow. I guess I’m a spoiled, soft, American housewife. The thought of washing by hand–such a lot of work! I’m so grateful to be able to run the clothes through the machine (which also happens to be an energy- and water-efficient model, by the way).
• Clothesline. I really like hanging clothes to dry during the summer months. We’ve strung a clothesline between a tree and the swingset, and I can hang up three loads a day if I need to. I love heading out there with the basket loaded down, our happy dog padding along beside me and flopping down to chew on a stick while I clip our T-shirts and shorts onto the line. It’s quiet. I ponder and pray.
• Bibles. The fact that I can use the plural to write that word is something to be grateful for. In some countries, to have a complete copy of the book of John to study would be marvelous. I have all 66 books of the Bible in more than one version! I have my main Bible, and another that is broken down into portions to read through in a year. And I have a small one that was a gift to me years ago that can fit in a purse. And I have the King James version I bought for myself when I was in junior high. And the Living Bible that I bought after I didn’t understand the King James. So many translations to choose from–all in my own home. I am so thankful to have such extravagant access to the written word of God. I should be poring over it.
• Food. Following news of the global food crisis leaves me grateful to have enough money to buy supplies at the grocery. 
• Goodwill. The store, as well as the attitude. The Goodwill store has been the first place I stop when we’re interested in shopping for clothes or household items. Sometimes we turn up a single blouse or an interesting tray for the kitchen. However, every once in a while, we hit the jackpot. So, whoever donated the queen-sized purple Pottery Barn crinkle puff bedspread–I could kiss you! Thanks, also, for the coordinating summer-weight quilt. And the purple floor lamp. You helped me affordably redecorate the shared bedroom of two girls who longed for that exact quilt.
• All that I need for life and godliness. A friend of mine reminded me of this verse found in 2 Peter (1:3): “His divine power has given us everything we need for life and godliness through our knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness.” It’s been so true that just at the right time I’ll be given some word or some reminder that will answer the cry of my heart or a deep questioning of my soul. His divine power has given me everything I need for life and godliness…through my knowledge of Him. 

It’s a good exercise, to stop and be thankful. To turn to the Giver of all good gifts and give thanks.Merci beaucoups, mon Dieu, L’Eternel, Seigneur Jesus.For more thankfulness overflowing on the Internet, visit Sting My Heart.

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• A youthful Pat Robertson interviews Corrie in 1974 (interspersed with a few short clips from “The Hiding Place” movie). It’s so neat to see and hear her.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=038cuYe3Nis]

• A woman posted a very short video shot from inside the Hiding Place in Corrie’s house. You’ll feel like you yourself have climbed inside and lowered the secret door.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vLnfRt03rkU&feature=related]

• This is a video slide-show someone uploaded with snapshots similar to mine. Complete with dramatic music and a bit of footage from the film as an intro. A little hokey, but it shows you the place.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L8K6jxHjf04&feature=related]

• Photos from the museum are available to view on the Corrie Ten Boom official website (glare-free!).
• A short bio and excerpt of a Guideposts article available from PBS in a series “The Question of God.”
• Of course, I highly recommend reading Corrie’s book, The Hiding Place.
• Download actual messages/sermons delivered by Corrie ten Boom herself (in MP3 format) at this site. It’s very cool, and it’s free. I tried it.
• Lots of excerpts from Corrie’s writings here.
• Wikipedia has her bio and info (including a few more links).
• Haarlem website with a nice bio.
• Someday I need to buy a DVD of the film, “The Hiding Place.” The Belgian Wonder saw it when he was young and said it impacted him deeply. “It stays with you for life,” he said.

It worked well for me this week to find all of this, as I’ve been thinking about her a lot lately. So my Works For Me Wednesday tip is that thanks to technology, I can dig deep into the Internet when I want to know more about something. And then I can share the wealth.Enjoy learning more about Corrie ten Boom.Return to Rocks In My Dryer by clicking here.Visit the archived Ann Kroeker WFMW tip-collection here.

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“As the media theorist Marshall McLuhan pointed out in the 1960s, media are not just passive channels of information. They supply the stuff of thought, but they also shape the process of thought. And what the Net seems to be doing is chipping away my capacity for concentration and contemplation. Once I was a scuba diver in the sea of words. Now I zip along the surface like a guy on a Jet Ski.” (p. 57)

It reminds me of Neil Postman’s book Amusing Ourselves to Death: Public Discourse in the Age of Discourse, which was written before the Internet had such widespread influence.Carr says that his literary-type friends are also having trouble staying focused on long pieces of writing. One blogger who was a lit major used to read books voraciously, but wonders–even worries–if not only the way he reads has changed, but also the way he thinks?Another guy admitted that he now has “almost totally lost the ability to read and absorb a longish article on the web or in print.” And another wrote, “Even a blog post of more than three or four paragraphs is too much to absorb. I skim it.”Looks like I would have already lost him by now, were he reading this post.Carr quotes Maryanne Wolf, author of Proust and the Squid, saying that she:

worries that the style of reading promoted by the Net, a style that puts “efficiency” and “immediacy” above all else, may be weakening our capacity for the kind of deep reading that emerged when an earlier technology, the printing press, made long and complex works of prose commonplace…Our ability to interpret text, to make the rich mental connections that form when we read deeply and without distraction, remains largely disengaged. (p. 58).

Is Carr right? Are we as a society or even worldwide losing the focus of slow, attentive reading?The article warns:

 Never has a communications system played so many roles in our lives–or exerted such broad influence over our thoughts–as the Internet does today. Yet, for all that’s been written about the Net, there’s been little consideration of how, exactly, it’s reprogramming us. (p. 60)

Carr talks about Google’s goals as a company, and described the company founders’ desire to turn their search engine into an artificial intelligence that might even be connected to our brains. He quoted one of the two founders, Larry Page. “The ultimate search engine is something as smart as people–or smarter.” And then the scariest quote of all:

Certainly if you had all the world’s information directly attached to your brain, or an artificial brain that was smarter than your brain, you’d be better off.

According to Carr, Page said that in a 2004 interview with Newsweek. He really did.Is nobody nervous about that?I’m telling you, that is the stuff of science fiction novels, people. And yet, it’s not scary or uncomfortable at all to a generation of kids growing up with avatars and second lives online. It would seem like a perfectly normal progression to stick a contraption on one’s head and gain access to all kinds of information simply by thinking a question–and getting immediate answers. No need to study for tests anymore, or store up information in one’s head. It’s all right there in a gadget. What’s weird about that?, our children will wonder. They’ll shake their heads and make fun of their old-fashioned parents, so “out of it.””They don’t get it. We don’t need school anymore–we have artificial intelligence. Right here at our fingertips.”I’m not even dreaming this up, because I hear kids say this already. “Why would I need to memorize anything? I just Google it and get all the information I need.”Maybe I am an old fogey, but I’m with Carr:

[Google’s] easy assumption that we’d all ‘be better off’ if our brains were supplemented, or even replaced, by an artificial intelligence is unsettling…In Google’s world, the world we enter when we go online, there’s little place for the fuzziness of contemplation. Ambiguity is not an opening for insight but a bug to be fixed. The human brain is just an outdated computer that needs a faster processor and a bigger hard drive. (p. 62, 63)

In my world, contemplation is something to be practiced and developed, not lost; and my brain is something to be exercised and developed, not supplanted. The computer and search engines are tools at my disposal, not a substitute for learning and thinking on my own.What kinds of mental disciplines should we put into place in our lives to fight this?How can we slow down as we recall how to read deeply and start practicing it?What shall we change about our reading in order to focus on one article long enough to absorb it, understand it, consider its premise and argument, and then talk with someone else about it?How can we keep from clicking away and skimming and clicking away again?How can we learn? Think? Truly read?This speed-reading is affecting our ability to study, stick with, and (with the aid of the Spirit) comprehend God’s Word.Which will affect, in turn, our prayer life.Our minds will be fickle and flit from thought to thought, always looking for the next quippy quote that takes little time to “get.”We must pray more slowly, read more slowly.To do so, we may need to live more slowly.If I may finish with a more secular thought from that article, here’s something else Carr wrote:

The kind of deep reading that a sequence of printed pages promotes is valuable not just for the knowledge we acquire from the author’s words but for the intellectual vibrations those words set off within our own minds. In the quiet spaces opened up by the sustained, undistracted reading of a book, or by any other act of contemplation, for that matter, we make our own associations, draw our own inferences and analogies, foster our own ideas. Deep reading, as Maryanne Wolf argues, is indistinguishable from deep thinking.If we lose those quiet spaces, or fill them up with “content,” we will sacrifice something important not only in our selves but in our culture. In a recent essay, the playwright Richard Foreman eloquently described what’s at stake:              I come from a tradition of Western culture, in which the ideal (my ideal) was the complex, dense and “cathedral-like” structure of the highly educated and articulate personality—a man or woman who carried inside themselves a personally constructed and unique version of the entire heritage of the West. [But now] I see within us all (myself included) the replacement of complex inner density with a new kind of self—evolving under the pressure of information overload and the technology of the “instantly available.”

As we are drained of our “inner repertory of dense cultural inheritance,” Foreman concluded, we risk turning into “‘pancake people’—spread wide and thin as we connect with that vast network of information accessed by the mere touch of a button.”

So many quotable quotes just in that section…Read slowly the things worth your time. Don’t lose those “quiet spaces opened up by the sustained, undistracted reading of a book, or…any other act of contemplation” you might enjoy this summer.Make associations.Draw your own inferences and analogies.Foster your own ideas.Read deeply; think deeply; pray deeply.I suggest we get countercultural.Anyone for a long, slow, summer read in the hammock?

The post Is Google Making Us Stoopid? appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

“With a storyteller’s charm and a Bible teacher’s grit, L.L. Barkat weaves memoir, humor and spiritual insight together into a satisfying read,” Edward Gilbreath, author of Reconciliation Blues.”The beautiful and intelligent writing will pull you in, but the deep and uncommon insights will keep you reading…It is a book meant to be read slowly,” Steve Hayner, professor of evangelism and church growth, Columbia Theological Seminary.

And Scot McKnight, author of The Jesus Creed, said, “The only writer I know quite like L.L. Barkat is Eugene Peterson. That probably tells you all you need to know.”Wowzers. Scot says Barkat is like Peterson? No wonder I thought, “That person’s smart!”I don’t know if books that are difficult to categorize really are hard to market, but once I discover them, I have found them to be captivating reading.Stone Crossings was like that.Each chapter begins with a poetically written reflective piece, often weaving in something of her love of natural settings. The chapters then explore the hard places Barkat has been physically, spiritually, relationally, emotionally…and they celebrate God’s grace as He met, taught, and guided her through it all.Her personal stories, powerful and poignant as they are (the discreet but clear personal story that sets up the meat for chapter 2 proved to be a difficult, painful read), don’t necessarily serve as the centerpiece of the chapters; instead, they establish the theme. Within a few paragraphs, Barkat proceeds to highlight a character or story from Scripture, weaving in details and insight that reflect her spiritual wisdom, study, and depth of understanding.In Chapter 2, she offers a beautiful detail about the term “worm” when it’s used in Psalm 22. In this psalm, Jesus “cries prophetically through David that he’s a worm,” Barkat writes. She then explains:

[T]he Hebrew word here, towla, refers to a special sort of worm–a female that attaches herself to a tree before laying her eggs. Once she lays her eggs, this sacrificial mother becomes a protective covering. She dies right there, excreting a crimson fluid that covers both her body and her offspring.Such colorful artistry was not lost on the ancients. (p. 22, Stone Crossings)

That artistry and image was not lost on the ancients; nor, it seems, was it lost on Barkat. Nor was it lost on me, when I read it. The word captured long before Jesus was nailed to the cross is a picture of His sacrifice for us–He covers us with His blood. In Him, we’re saved and, ultimately, safe.I don’t want to tell too many stories from the book and keep you from discovering them yourself, but I was deeply impressed with the story she told about sacrificing her career.  After her first daughter was born, she returned to teaching. She and her husband enrolled their little girl in a local daycare and dropped her off. “I was sad on one level,” she wrote, “but relieved to ‘get my life back,’ as I’d heard women say…But then my infant daughter made her own plea: ‘I want my mommy back.’ At seven months old she had no words to say this. She simply stopped eating in my absence.”The workers at the daycare tried everything to get her to eat, but she wouldn’t. Ten hours would pass, and she would refuse. She would be “dazed and unresponsive. She ignored my attempts to communicate with her. My lively, smiley baby was gone.”After two weeks, they took her to the doctor, who said that distressed babies sometimes go on hunger strikes.Barkat explained:

I went home that day knowing I was at a crossroads. My daughter wanted me, but I wanted a life. What’s more, I wanted a house. With my salary, we were on track to get one soon–a good-sized home in which to raise a family…[God’s Spirit] spoke quietly on my way back from work: ‘You can have a big house with nothing to put in it. Or you can give up the job and the house and fill your home with love.’ While God doesn’t necessarily ask every woman to leave work for a child, he seemed to be urging me in that direction and graciously promising, ‘I will make…your walls of precious stones.’ (Isaiah 54:12).As it went, I took him at his word. (p. 83, 87)

I was deeply moved by the apparent grief and confusion of her young child and the resulting call to sacrifice that L.L. felt that God was calling her to.In a later chapter, I loved her lengthy description of what the blind man might have experienced after Jesus placed mud on his eyes and told him to wash in the Pool of Siloam…possibly a long, stumbling walk as he tried to find it still in his dark world of mud-dabbed blindness. I had not considered how far the water might have been from the place where the blind man and Jesus met; nor had I registered that the man was still blind and smeared with mud while searching for it. Barkat took time to climb into that man’s shoes and tie his experience in with her own story.Finally, the story in the epilogue ties in the theme of stones in a highly personal way with Barkat’s extended family.It’s simple. Beautiful. And full of grace.That’s only a choppy peek into a book that’s packed with insight, honesty, poetry, pain, beauty, and grace.She has opened up her life for us to learn and grow.Through this book, she herself has offered every reader hope–by seeing the relationship with Jesus Christ she has developed in and through the hard places she’s been, we have hope that we, too, will find His grace in times of need.L.L. Barkat offers even more honesty, insight and wisdom over at her blog Seedlings in Stone. Pay her a visit, and you can decide for yourself if “that person’s smart.”

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I’d love to sit and have tea with you so we could explore these six questions. They’re not only great questions to ask yourself, but also to ask one another.

First, the tea.

Now, the questions. They’re written first person, but to launch a discussion, just rewrite them to “you.”

1. If I could ask Jesus anything and know I’d get an answer, what would I ask Him?

I got this question from Garry Poole’s book Seeker Small Groups. It’s one of the first things he asks his small groups, because no matter what their background is, everyone’s got unanswered questions. He writes down what people say, and then builds the next few weeks of discussion around those very questions. I’d like to propose that every one of us would benefit from spending a few minutes with a journal and pen and an open heart toward the Lord. Honestly, what would you ask Him if you knew He heard you, and you knew He’d give you an answer? That’s a list worth making. It’s a list worth talking with Him about. It’s worth exploring the answers later, too, with friends or on your own.

2. How have I changed?

The answers to this question could be encouraging if I see ways I’ve changed for the better—how I’ve softened or strengthened, for example, or how I’ve taken risks or served in love. It might be discouraging, however, to realize how little I’ve changed in other ways—though motivating (see the following question).

3. How do I need to change?

Introspective and humbling, this question may draw up some important answers. Approach it open and prayerfully, asking God to reveal what needs to change—what He wants to change in you. A few times, I have humbly asked my family to answer this for me. How do they think I need to change? For them to answer freely and honestly, I had to assure them that they were safe; that I wouldn’t get defensive or hold their answers against them later.

4. What are my values? Or, What do I value?

If I figure this out, I can start to see how my life is aligning with those values—or not. My hope is that my values are grounded in Scripture and that my daily choices flow from them. To actually list out my values makes me put them into words, and then I can compare them against biblical principles.

5. What do I want?

This related question focuses on desire. Consumption. Hopes. Dreams. What do we honestly desire? What do we want? Or what do we want to want? For example, if I honestly want something completely trite and meaningless, but I want to want the will of God in my life, that’s an honest realization. Taking my list to the Lord, I can ask Him about each thing I wrote down. And I can ask if my answers align with His desires…and ask Him to give me His desires if they don’t.

6. What’s next?

This question is deceptively simple, because the answer(s) may change my next few minutes, my plans for the day, or the entire course of my life’s path.

How to Use These Questions

• Use them as journal prompts.
• Use them as essay prompts.
• Write your own answers and publish on your blog.
• Launch a fascinating conversation with your significant other.
• Utilize them in a small group setting.
• Use one to start a thoughtful conversation on Facebook.

Let me know what questions you’d add to the list, and if you have any responses you’re willing to share, let me know in the comments.

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Some days can be reduced to scrub, swipe, fold, wash, rinse, repeat; others, to conquering an overwhelming to-do list or in-box.

One way to approach the daily grind is simply to take a deep breath and dig in, applying self-discipline, determination, willpower, and grit. That’ll get you going…and it’s often what sees us through to the end, to completion. Grit is good. As Winston Churchill might remind us, “Never, never, never give up.”

But along the way, while swishing, sweeping, scrubbing and sorting, why not look for ways to have fun with chores? Why not lighten up our everyday tasks?

The kids can benefit, too.

Now, don’t get me wrong: They need to learn to tap into that, “I don’t want to do this, but I’ll do it anyway” spot to accomplish goals. They need to know that life isn’t all X-Box games and online chats. When they are given a list of things to do, they need to just do it.

But some things can be done…while having a little fun.

We can all use some ways to lighten up and have fun with chores.

1. Mary Poppins: My son had dumped an enormous box of oversized Lego building blocks all over the floor this week. He built tall towers and buildings and smashed trucks through them—they were very fun. But when it came time to pick them up, he stared with despair at so many blocks. How would he ever get them put away? Then I had a Mary Poppins moment when I envisioned some creative cleanup. I went to the garage and pulled out his child-sized plastic snow shovel. “Look! You can shovel them into the storage tub!” Suddenly, it was hilarious to be shoveling toys, and the job was done in no time.

2. Music: You probably do this already, don’t you? Put on music that makes you smile, laugh, sing, or dance. It makes everyday chores more enjoyable. Let the kids turn on something fun for themselves as they sift through the clothes in their room.

3. Blog Fodder: Imagine creative ways to spin your boring, tedious task-of-the-day on the blog when you’re done. Amuse us all with your creative phrasing. Amuse yourself as you compose it in your head.

4. Fartlek: I promise you this doesn’t mean what you think it means. The term “fartlek” is a Swedish term that means “speed play,” and runners use it to describe a training run when they insert some random bursts of speed into an otherwise steady pace. They may decide to sprint hard from a mailbox to a stop sign and then return to a jog. It’s a way to vary pace and insert a little game into a run. Why not transfer this principle to our chores or tasks? See if you can pick up the pace while mopping one area of a big room—from the stove to the cabinets, mop with more energy and speed. Then feel free to drop back to a steady pace. Pick it up on one of the bathrooms and then ease up when you get to the landing. You get the idea. Play a speed game. Fartlek. [Insert offensive sound effects and junior high giggles.]

5. Work for the Carrot: Come up with small pleasures to enjoy upon completion of various tasks—after cleaning the fridge, have a healthy snack. When you finish straightening the closet, read a chapter in whatever novel you’re reading. Not only will the reward itself be fun, but the thought of the reward will bring some fun to your work.

6. Before & After Photos: Document your work—take digital photos of the messy desk before you sort, file and straighten, and after you finish. Compare. Smile. Be proud. Sometimes I forget how far I’ve come and what a difference my work has made. That’s fun to look back on.

7. Many Hands Make Light—and fun—Work: Involve more people. While you’re at it, combine these ideas, too. Ask the kids to join you in some speed games or have them select the music, and when you’re done with a task, offer a simple reward (see #5)—a freezer pop for everyone, or a marshmallow if they’re easy-to-please. For a huge task, invite friends to help you out…and offer to assist them with a task of similar magnitude. Document it with fun photos posing next to the project before and after. You know, now that I mentioned it, does anyone want to come over and help sling mulch next week? Paint the bathroom?

Our world seems obsessed with fun, but in our pursuit of big fun like a beach vacation, we could risk resenting the everyday obligations. Instead of looking only to the big fun, the expensive and involved fun, try injecting a little everyday fun into your life. Your kids will see that life doesn’t have to be dull and boring—that X-Box isn’t the only fun to be had.

If nothing else, teach your kids the word “fartlek” and use it a lot today in conversations.

I’d almost guarantee it’s good for a few fun moments.

The post 7 Ways to Enjoy Everyday Fun with Chores appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

1. Castile Soap for a Simpler Life (and blemish-free face)
2. Thick and Chewy, Fast and Easy Pizza Dough
3. Overnight Crockpot Steel-Cut Oatmeal

What am I doing posting about the perils of my attempts to multi-task?Why bother typing up Katherine Paterson’s thoughts on Beauty?Blog-readers want TIPS.They want HELPFUL INFO.Why do I kid myself and write posts about something cute my kids said, or about some Deep Thought I’ve come across in a book or at a conference? I need to be writing bullet-pointed how-to posts that empower people in some way.My brief blog-analysis reminded me of other surprise hits that were “tip-ish” in nature:

• Six Ways to Refresh Your Mind gained a lot of popularity since I posted it in February 2007.
• 10 Simple Ways to Class Up Your Act (a notch) caused a spike in the stats in its day.
• Thanks to linkage from a Top Mama Blogger, How the Cuckoo Found its Voice also brought in some new readers who joined me in considering the joy of resurrecting old, neglected, forgotten hobbies and skills.
• Crepes? Mai, Oui! offers my Americanized instructions on how to prepare this French specialty.
• Quiet Time Round-Up included a collection of devotional and Bible study tips that I gathered into one place. Several people appreciated the effort. It was………helpful!

Helpful ideas, step-by-step how-tos, and tips. Tips, tips, tips.And yet….And yet people flock to the clever writers, the funny folks, the great photographers. The Dooces and Boomamas and Pioneer Women of the world. They do offer some helpful tips along the way, though, so maybe it all comes down to TIPS. And if you’re funny, too, all the better. And if your funny and can take great pictures, you’re a shoe-in to becoming a Blogging Superstar.By the way, have you seen Dooce make the rounds on talk shows representing the power of Blogging Mommas? She was in the Wall Street Journal a couple of weeks ago and was scheduled to be on the Today Show either yesterday or the day before.I usually try to save tip-type posts for Rocks In My Dryer’s Works For Me Wednesdays (talk about TIPS–she’s a Tip-Warehouse!).But now I’m curious what would happen if I specialized in tips for a few days?Not that I have that many ideas to offer the world.It’s not like I’m Family Circle magazine personified.But if I talked to friends and thought about it, I might be able to pull together a few “collections” under some kind of theme.If I can manage to pull it off, I just wonder if my titles ended up How-To in flavor instead of story-driven or essay-style, how that might affect things?I feel an experiment coming on.Five Days of How-To Posts: Experiment with Helpful Posts that Offer Value Implementing Quick-and-Easy TweaksHonestly, just to be clear, I love my faithful readers and those who pop in now and then. You’re fun, encouraging, and insightful. You’re writing great stuff of your own. I love the community of like-minded people who drop in here to see what my radar has picked up and posted; and I try to visit yours, as well. So don’t ever question my satisfaction and gratitude for how you let me be myself here.I guess I’m just curious what would happen if I tweaked my content for a few days.Feel free to join me on this experimental venture. You, too, can try posting nothing but helpful, how-to, informational content for a few days.Just to see.Don’t you wonder?I guess I’d better wrap this up and start making some lists.

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She spent most of the time defining that word, “acedia,” that has fallen out of usage. She’s trying to resurrect it, because she thinks it captures our current culture’s general boredom, apathy, or ennui. None of those words expresses the attitude and mood quite right, so she’s returning to acedia.

She wrote in the description:

Few people today have encountered the word acedia, which literally means not-caring, or being unable to care that you don’t care. In some ways, though, acedia defines today’s culture, expressing itself as willful indifference, restless boredom, or even frantic busyness. Norris discusses both acedia and its opposite–the zeal that draws on faith, hope, and love.

She said that when the seven deadly sins were determined and defined, the term “acedia,” which had been used widely among monks who struggled with it, was absorbed into the concept of sloth. It was lost. It has a meaning, however, that is specific and in her opinion, useful.

“I tend to believe words are in usage because we need them,” she said. And she thinks we need the word “acedia” again. When she proposed the idea of a book about acedia, somebody–maybe a monk, maybe an editor–told her, “Well, you’ve got an open field, since not much has been done with it since the sixth century.”

She said she faced an “attack of thoughts spiraling me downward” and made a “powerful connection with my past. When you’re a writer,” she said, “there’s no turning back from such a connection.”

“Acedia works like a spiritual morphine. It leaves you not caring; unable to commit to relationships; unable to stay in one place; and so frantically busy, you don’t have the energy to care….there’s so much coming at you, you can’t care any more. It renders us impervious to care.”

Does that sound like our culture today?

By the way, she passed along what she thought was the best description of midlife she’d ever heard (I can’t remember the source):

“Midlife is a metamorphosis in reverse, where you start out as a butterfly and gradually turn into a caterpillar.”(laughter)

She talks and writes openly of her avoidance of all things math-related. In a room full of writers, I’m sure there were plenty of sympathetic ears. When she said, “I don’t have much faith in linear process,” she was rewarded with a burst of hearty laughter. I have no idea what came before or after that. No context. Only that isolated statement.

She talked about how our culture gives us the art we need and maybe the art we want.

Maybe we want Britney, for example, because we don’t want to deal with the complicated pain and horror of that pesky ground combat in Iraq. “Denial,” she said, “is entrenched in our culture. We don’t want to be awakened from our sleep of acedia.”

Maybe we want to not care; in fact, we might even want to not care that we don’t care.

“Why bother?” we wonder.

She borrowed a phrase from Wordsworth, that we’re in a state of almost “savage torpor.”

Life bores us. And she quoted someone…Baudelaire, I think, saying, “Oh, how tired I am of the need to live 24 hours a day.”

She was speaking to a lot of writers in that room. She talked about the “tyranny of the blank page.” Later she called it the “democracy of the white page–every writer has to return there.”

I would add that bloggers can replace that with “blank screen.” The screen stares. The template taunts. Do we have anything to say? Each writer returns there and asks the same thing…unless, of course, she is plagued by acedia.

“What do writers need?” she asked rhetorically. “Not to stop.”

“We need ‘possibility,'” she said, then quoting Kierkegaard so quickly that I couldn’t get it down. So I jotted a few key words in order to Google it later, which I did, landing on this page of Kierkegaard quotes:

“If I were to wish for anything, I should not wish for wealth and power, but for the passionate sense of the potential, for the eye which, ever young and ardent, sees the possible. Pleasure disappoints, possibility never. And what wine is so sparkling, what so fragrant, what so intoxicating, as possibility!“

She claims that prayer and the reciting of psalms battle acedia.

Finally, she mentioned in passing a “Commonplace Book.”

Do you keep a Commonplace Book?

I think my blog has become something of an online, virtual Commonplace Book; in fact, I think many blogs are, given the description provided at Wikipedia. It says:

They were a way to compile knowledge, usually by writing information into books. They were essentially scrapbooks filled with items of every kind: medical recipes, quotes, letters, poems, tables of weights and measures, proverbs, prayers, legal formulas. Commonplaces were used by readers, writers, students, and humanists as an aid for remembering useful concepts or facts they had learned. Each commonplace book was unique to its creator’s particular interests.

This very post, in fact, is an act of “commonplacing,” as I record Norris’s quotations and reflect on them personally:

What is “Commonplacing” and what is a Commonplace Book? Commonplacing is the act of selecting important phrases, lines, and/or passages from texts and writing them down; the commonplace book is the notebook in which a reader has collected quotations from works s/he has read. Commonplace books can also include comments and notes from the reader; they are frequently indexed so that the reader can classify important themes and locate quotations related to particular topics or authors.

The commonplace book was always at hand as a conversational prompt…today, perhaps, it can serve as fodder for blog posts, articles, books, or good old-fashioned conversations.

Although I don’t want to add another notebook to my life, juggling it along with my Day-Timer and journal, I’m tempted to begin one for that purpose–to collect sayings and quotations that I can use as a conversational (or blog-versational) prompt. And then the blog itself serves as a more developed, refined version of the notebook.

That’s all I’ve got for Kathleen Norris.

Look for signs of acedia.

And tell me about what you use as a kind of Commonplace Book.

Is it your blog?

Do you weave quotes and facts into your journal or diary?

Do you jot down quotes on pieces of paper or 3X5 cards and toss them in a box?

The post Kathleen Norris, Acedia, and the Commonplace Book appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

I was sitting in the Visitors’ Gallery of the House of Commons, I and forty-nine other artists from across Canada, fifty in all, and I got to thinking about stillness. To read a book, one must be still. To watch a concert, a play, a movie, to look at a painting, one must be still. Religion, too, makes use of stillness, notably with prayer and meditation.

Keep those thoughts of his in mind.The fifty artists went in and presented the reasons that funding for the arts is essential for Canada as a country, but the leaders seemed disinterested. He said that Stephen Harper, the Prime Minister, tends to run Canada more like a business than a country, and sat unmoved throughout the short plea for support of the arts.Martel could have responded in a lot of ways to the apparent disinterest. He decided to be positive, proactive, and clever. I pulled from the site the following explanation: 

The Prime Minister did not speak during our brief tribute, certainly not. I don’t think he even looked up. The snarling business of Question Period having just ended, he was shuffling papers. I tried to bring him close to me with my eyes.Who is this man? What makes him tick? No doubt he is busy. No doubt he is deluded by that busyness. No doubt being Prime Minister fills his entire consideration and froths his sense of busied importance to the very brim. And no doubt he sounds and governs like one who cares little for the arts.But he must have moments of stillness. And so this is what I propose to do: not to educate—that would be arrogant, less than that—to make suggestions to his stillness.For as long as Stephen Harper is Prime Minister of Canada, I vow to send him every two weeks, mailed on a Monday, a book that has been known to expand stillness. That book will be inscribed and will be accompanied by a letter I will have written. I will faithfully report on every new book, every inscription, every letter, and any response I might get from the Prime Minister, on this website

I just love that. I love the care with which he is selecting great literature and writing a brief explanation of how it might enrich the Prime Minister’s life.Martel said he has a few self-imposed rules for the book selection process. He chooses relatively short books, trying to respect the PM’s time (and, perhaps, his attention span). And I think with the exception of Le Petit Prince (The Little Prince), the books are all in English. I can’t remember why, because I think the PM is fluent in French.Here is an excerpt from the first letter Martel sent accompanying the first book, which was Tolstoy’s The Death of Ivan Ilych.

I know you’re very busy, Mr. Harper. We’re all busy. Meditating monks in their cells are busy. That’s adult life, filled to the ceiling with things that need doing. (It seems only children and the elderly aren’t plagued by lack of time—and notice how they enjoy their books, how their lives fill their eyes.) But every person has a space next to where they sleep, whether a patch of pavement or a fine bedside table. In that space, at night, a book can glow. And in those moments of docile wakefulness, when we begin to let go of the day, then is the perfect time to pick up a book and be someone else, somewhere else, for a few minutes, a few pages, before we fall asleep. And there are other possibilities, too. Sherwood Anderson, the American writer best known for his collection of stories Winesburg, Ohio, wrote his first stories while commuting by train to work. Stephen King apparently never goes to his beloved baseball games without a book that he reads during breaks. So it’s a question of choice.And I suggest you choose, just for a few minutes every day, to read The Death of Ivan Ilych.

I liked that Martel reminded the PM, as well as his Festival audience on that night he spoke, that reading can be done in short segments of time. Most of us sleep next to a nightstand of some sort. We can leave a book there and “in that space, at night, a book can glow,” as we read from it for five minutes at the end of a day. Even busy people can manage to read. He was, of course, preaching to the choir that night at Calvin College; but to Stephen Harper, he was being understanding and practical.It’s also fun to scan the titles Martel has chosen along with a brief synopsis of each book. Martel includes his own personal opinion about why the book is great, and along the way, gently reminds the PM why literature matters–why art matters–and why stillness matters in the taking in of art. 

The post Yann Martel on Life of Pi, Interpretation, Stillness, and Art appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

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She remembered. She remembered the transatlantic flight we shared in 2005, and the descent that led to my child’s airsickness. She remembered how my husband and I mopped up vomit as the plane landed. She remembered handing me a paper towel, and how, when I turned around to thank the kind stranger, I realized it was her and exclaimed, “You’re Phyllis Tickle!” She remembered saying, “Why, yes, I am! You look familiar…how do I know you?”

I explained that I met her at a writing event, and I reminded her of something stupid I said, and she remembered that, too.

And she remembered how I introduced my husband to her, and how he thoughtfully didn’t extend his vomit-y hand to shake hers. She remembered how I totally abandoned him to the cleanup to continue talking with Phyllis and find out why she was on the same flight from Belgium. I was so focused on my kids for the six- or seven-hour flight that I never bothered to turn around. She was one row behind me the entire time.

And so after her talk yesterday, we had a big laugh reconnecting and remembering.

And, of course, cheesy-me, I asked someone to take our photo:

That whole airsickness incident reminds me to take a tip from the world of advertising and marketing: if you want someone to remember you, even bad press is good press. So do something memorable, or don’t feel bad if something memorable happens.

When I was sitting through Phyllis’s presentation, I scribbled a quote that stood out–and it wasn’t even the point of her talk: Some writers “are learning to say very well…nothing.” About the only application that kind of writing might work for is ad copy, she said, or on the Web.

I thought about blogging. I hope to learn to say things very well. But I hope to use any skill I may acquire to say something meaningful, not “nothing.” It’s a good warning; a reminder to merge craft and content, or, to have content with craftsmanship, or something like that. She didn’t say all that–that’s me chewing on her one thought.

The title of her talk was “Writing as Catechesis.” It’s too hard to explain briefly, so I’ll just type out her description from the information packet and let you ponder it:

Writers of all stripes have claimed to write for discovery, yet religious writers, according to Tickle, write to discover what they believe as well as what they think, making writing the ultimate catechesis.

After her message, as I waited to go up and get my photo taken, I glanced to my left. Two chairs down from me sat Christian authors Lisa Samson and Claudia Mair Burney!

I recognized them from their blogs. I’d clicked over there from this blog or that blog. Who knows how we arrive at places on this crazy World Wide Web, eh? Anyway, I recognized their faces and names, and decided once again to be a bold attendee. I stuck out my hand and said, “Hi there! I recognize you both from online…would you mind if I took your picture and put it on my blog?”

“Of course not!”

As I introduced myself to Claudia, I mentioned someone that I was pretty sure she knew, Don Pape, and I mentioned that I was working on a book for David C Cook, where Don is Trade Book Publisher, and she said, “Don’s my buddy! And I just came out with a book with David C Cook!” She held it out. It’s called Zora & Nicky: A Novel in Black and White. Then, she handed it to me.

“Here,” she said. “I want you to have this.”

“What? No! No, I can buy a copy.”

“No, I want you to have it. Here.” She put it in my hands.

“But…well…Thank you. Thank you so much.”

So congratulations, Claudia, on the book’s release. And thank you again. I can’t wait to read it!

And then I got to talk with Lisa Samson, and she’s a bright, lively, fun author who has written a lot of Christian fiction and just came out with a book called Embrace Me.

Congratulations, Lisa, for the book’s release!

After chatting for a moment or two about publishing, they introduced me to someone else. It turns out that she’s the Executive Director of the Christy Awards, Donna Kehoe. I said hello, chatted about nothing too memorable, nor did anything memorable happen–no kids around to produce vomit–and I think it was Donna who offered to take a picture of Claudia and Lisa that had me in it, too.

Then I excused myself to go get that snapshot with Phyllis.Later that afternoon I was passing through the little campus hangout, making a beeline for a booth where I planned to unpack my bag and write, and there sat Claudia in a comfy chair, eating some yogurt.

“Ann!” she called out. “Pull up a chair and join us!”

“Oh, no, no, I don’t want to intrude on your gathering. You should feel free to sit here and talk shop.”

“You aren’t intruding–I’m inviting you. And we aren’t going to be talking shop, or if we do, you can hear it, too. Sit down. Pull up that chair.”

So, unsure what the others would think, I set down my bag and pulled up a chair. Then Lisa Samson came over along with Donna Kehoe, and then another author named Cindy Crosby came over. They introduced her to the group as well. They’re all so warm, welcoming, and gracious. The world felt all rosy and soft-focus as I listened to them tell funny stories and explain the plots for their next book projects.

A funny little “small world” thing about Cindy Crosby is that she grew up in the next town over from where I grew up, and her dad owned the Christian bookstore just around the corner from where my mom worked. I used to walk there with just a little bit of change jingling in my pocket. I’d look at all the book titles and study the pamphlets. Every once in a while, I’d buy a little pamphlet, because that would be all I could afford with my change. But one time, I saved up enough to buy my first Bible with my own money. My parents would have bought it for me, but I wanted it to be all my own, and somehow purchasing it must have been key to that in my mind.

Cindy’s dad tried to talk me into an NIV or NASB, but I had it in my head that I needed a KJV. I think I was about 12 years old. So I made my final selection: a King James bound with inexpensive burgundy leather. Her dad did succeed in talking me into getting my name stamped on it in gold. I think he understood how personal it was, and convinced me that my name in gold would solidify the deal.

Later, with birthday money from my aunt, and because I was having a little trouble understanding the King James, I bought my second Bible from him–a copy of The Living Bible with a kind of puffy green hardcover binding.

Anyway, I took a terrible, terrible self-snapped shot of Cindy and me, but I’m including it because Cindy looks okay. I’m the one who looks terrible, and I’m okay with that:

Apparently, I am so tired, I’ve decided to take a nap on Cindy’s shoulder. Or, rather, I need a little coaching in how to take self-snappers.

Anyway, Cindy is author of several books, including By Willoway Brook. She doesn’t have a website, but you can do an Amazon search on her name to pull up her titles.

I lunched with L.L. Barkat, who wrote the newly released Stone Crossings (Congratulations again!), and we had a great conversation about writing and blogging.

“I wish there were some fun way to get a picture of us together that I could post on my blog,” I said, “that would still respect your privacy.”

And then, as we shifted our feet, inspiration hit her.”I know!”

And that was the only moment during the festival that I regretted wearing my sensible walking shoes. Mine are on the left, and I can see now that they are probably far, far too sensible…scuffed…worn…a disgrace…unsightly and unstylish.

Okay, maybe they aren’t that bad.

Then again, maybe they are.

People, if you ever meet L.L. Barkat, pray that you shined your shoes that morning. This is her new thing. I ran into her later, and she said she got a nice shot of her shoes next to Ed Gilbreath’s.

Here’s a shot of my new friend L., who wishes to remain unnamed, when we were sitting in an auditorium waiting for Yann Martel to speak. Martel is the author of Life of Pi and maintains a blog called “What is Stephen Harper Reading.” He explains the reason for the blog and what he does here.

Then I met two charming festival attendees–Eileen Button and Nadyne Parr–at Elizabeth Berg’s lecture.

We ended up walking together to Elizabeth’s book signing, so I just stood in line with them in order to continue the conversation. I didn’t have a book of Elizabeth’s for her to sign, but I thought it might be fun to get a picture, because I was just thinking of you all so much and wanting to share everything with you. Really.

So there I was at the table, and her sweet husband said, “No flash,” because Elizabeth has an eye condition. So we turned off the flash, and Nadyne snapped this picture that will prove to the world what an intimate friendship I’ve forged with Elizabeth Berg.

You can see for yourself the rich interaction we were enjoying and what a surprising connection we made in such a short time.

Right. Well.

I had two more favorite moments. One was when I ran into a dear friend at the very end of the conference, just before heading to Katherine Paterson’s lecture. I was with Nadyne, and she snapped this picture of my happy reunion with Jim Poole.

In addition to being very tall, my friend Jim is a talented actor, video producer, and writer, but he will be most familiar to you as the voice of Scooter in the VeggieTales productions. That’s the vegetable with the Scottish brogue. We have a sing-along CD with “I Can Be Your Friend” on it, and I always jump in and sing along with Jim, imitating his accent, “Aye, that’s why we’ve got feelin’s that are verrrry (roll the “r”) much the same!”

Too bad I didn’t run into Jim sooner, as he managed to get himself known by several of the “names” at the event–he’s endearing and easy to know, so one of his new BFFs (Scott Cairns, maybe or Jeffrey Overstreet) invited him to the evening reception where all the authors were sipping colas and eating hors d’oeuvres. Before I ran into Jim, I peeked and saw them all mingling. It was a grown-up-writers’ party to which I was not invited…but…apparently Jim could have gotten me in.

Life just didn’t time out quite right, however, and I wasn’t able to nibble triangles of chicken quesadilla next to Kathleen Norris and Scott Cairns. I wouldn’t have known what to say anyway. I would have been tongue tied, and if I managed to think of something to say, I would have said it with tortilla blobs stuck in my teeth.

Memorable.My other favorite moment happened this afternoon. Ever since I saw the comment from Monica at Paper Bridges (formerly “Books Are My Friends”) that she wished she could sit in on a session with Rob Bell, I had this idea…I wasn’t sure if I should try it. I mean, I knew it would be goofy and borderline junior-highish. I waffled.

Then I just did it.

I walked up to Rob after his session. “Hi, I’m Ann Kroeker,” I said, holding out my hand to shake his. “I really enjoyed your talk just now (he said thanks), but what I wanted to ask is a favor. A friend of mine couldn’t be here, but really wanted to see you most of all. And so I was just wondering if I could get a picture of you with this and put it on my blog.”

He grinned really big, nodded, took the piece of paper, and I snapped this:

And this, my friends, is an example not only of how to do something so memorable so that you might be remembered for your silliness, but also of why you want to make friends with a blogger. You never know when she’ll be thinking of you.

The post Connections and Conclusions appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

The Bloggers Circle [CLOSED]What are the challenges and pitfalls of good blogging? How much should you disclose about yourself and other people on a blog? How do you respond to critics? To what extent should blogging be descriptive, a kind of reporting, and to what extent should it be reflective and expressive of your own feelings and thoughts?

Anyway, if you’re interested, here’s the list of speakers.I only knew a few, like Katherine Paterson, Kathleen Norris, Yann Martel, Haven Kimmel, Phyllis Tickle, Elizabeth Berg, Deb Rienstra, Rob Bell, Francine Rivers, and Luci Shaw. Maybe some others, too. You can see from this diverse group that this is not intended to be an exclusively Evangelical event–I think it’s encouraging a broader conversation of faith and writing at a literary level. A lot of these speakers not only have written books and won prizes, they also teach at prestigious universities. I hope I’m inspired and encouraged rather than overwhelmed by these brilliant minds expressing themselves.Hopefully I can check in here at the blog. I’ll try to snap a few pictures of famous people. I’ve been known to say and do embarrassing things when I meet people I admire. I stepped on someone’s foot just before we were introduced, I’ve said really stupid things, and on one memorable occasion in 2005, I was riding on an airplane back from Belgium one row in front of Phyllis Tickle. The story involves airsickness. You can read about it here if you like. After all, there’s really no better way to spice up a story on the mamablogsophere than to include a little vomit vignette.Anyway, if anything memorable happens should I happen to bump into Kathleen Norris or Katherine Paterson in the hallway or the ladies room, you’ll be the first to know.

The post Live, from Grand Rapids, it's the Festival of Faith and Writing! appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart

be pleasing in your sight,

O LORD, my Rock and my Redeemer.

(Psalm 19:14)

May the words of all our “mouths”–may the words of our blogs–be pleasing in His sight.

Let it be so.

The post Blogger's Prayer appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

I was once asked to make a list of five strengths I possess as a writer. Here’s what I came up with.

Five Writing Strengths

1. The ability to sit still for long stretches of time

Not everyone can do this, you know. Some people get antsy, restless. After a few minutes of sitting still, they fidget and have to get up and make hot chocolate or call a friend. Writers need to be able to sit still for hours in order to get their work done. Dorothea Brande in her book Becoming a Writer said:

Writing calls on unused muscles and involves solitude and immobility. There is not much to be said for the recommendation, so often heard, to serve an apprenticeship to journalism if you intend to write fiction. But a journalist’s career does teach two lessons which every writer needs to learn—that it is possible to write for long periods without fatigue, and that if one pushes on past the first weariness one finds a reservoir of unsuspected energy—one reaches the famous “second wind.” (71)

I can’t help but think of that famous advice writers hear at conferences and in books—how does one become a successful writer? Apply one’s bottom to chair (unless, of course, one is using a standing desk). I admit that I do head into the other room to grab a handful of nuts now and then, or fix a cup of tea. But I can sit still when need be.

2. Curiosity

Each person I meet knows something that I don’t—I can always learn something new if I ask the right questions. All it takes is a little curiosity. Whether working for a newspaper or corporate client, finding interest in some aspect of a new industry, person, story, or methodology is a strength—if I myself am interested in it, the way I write about it will probably be more interesting, as well. I value curiosity so highly in writing and in life, I publish a monthly Curiosity Journal, documenting and sharing my discoveries.

3. A Commitment to Lifelong Learning

I’ve abandoned the pursuit of higher education in a formal sense, but Autodidact Ann lives (and reads and researches) on. The more I learn, the more I have to write about. And guess what lifelong learners possess in abundance? Curiosity.

4. Love of Reading

Numbers 2, 3, and 4 are suspiciously interrelated. It might seem that I’m taking one idea and stretching it out to fill space—which might be yet another strength in itself—but I do think they deserve to be singled out. Curiosity often leads to learning and reading, and one often learns via reading. But there are other ways to learn and satisfy curiosity, and there is more than one motivation to read.

Yet (and this is the point) reading inevitably enhances writing—the content may inspire (or not); the writing style may be worth imitating (or not). Either way, reading widely only helps a writer. In his memoir, On Writing, Stephen King says:

If you want to be a writer, you must do two things above all others: read a lot and write a lot. There’s no way around these two things that I’m aware of, no shortcut. (139)

and

Reading is the creative center of a writer’s life. (142)

Storylines linger, nonfiction facts inform, ideas from texts co-mingle with others in my mind to form something new. A writer who doesn’t read is doomed to compose in a narrow style and draw from a limited library of ideas. I relish a good book, and I believe that makes my writing richer.

5. Perseverance

Never, never, never give up. Stick with it. Persist. I may not have been born with the greatest writing talent, but I’ve stuck with it. I work to improve and learn from mistakes, forging ahead a little smarter, wiser, and more skillful. As a friend of mine said (I paraphrase), the most successful writers are not necessarily the ones with the greatest talent; they’re the ones who persevere.

What five writing strengths do you possess?

______________________________

Is your writing life all it can be?

Let this book act as your personal coach, to explore the writing life you already have and the writing life you wish for, and close the gap between the two.

“A genial marriage of practice and theory. For writers new and seasoned. This book is a winner.”

—Phil Gulley, author of Front Porch Tales

The post My Five Writing Strengths appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

• Vehicles to transport us wherever we want, even off-road, with audio technology and reading material–iPods, books on CD, podcasts–to keep the ride from getting dull.
• Bountiful hobbies to make life more interesting.
• Newscasts, magazines, online news, and blogs, of course, to make our lives more informed.
• Television, TiVo, DVDs, movies, and theater (until this pesky writers’ strike) to entertain us.
• Tools and gadgets and computers to make us more efficient.
• Vacations to feel more relaxed.
• Educational opportunities to make our minds sharper and lives deeper.
• Social events, small-group meetings, and church services to make our social and spiritual lives richer.
• Volunteer opportunities to give our lives more meaning and purpose.
• Sports to make lives healthier and more fun.

“So with all those things filling our lives,” Gire wonders, “why aren’t we more fulfilled?”

He proposes that life for Westerners has become more like an all-you-can-eat buffet, which looks good as you go through the serving line, but by the time you finish eating, everything has lost its taste. “Instead of feeling satisfied,” he suggests, “we feel bloated.”

Sometimes less is more, as the saying goes, and sometimes a few well-prepared servings are more satisfying, ones where we have time to chew, where we can taste even the subtlest of spices, where the flavor lingers long after we’ve finished.We can’t savor anything, though, if we’re stuffed. And if we’re heaping serving after serving onto our schedule, by the end of the day we’re never going to want to eat again.(p. 99, The Reflective Life, by Ken Gire, Chariot Victor Publishing, a division of Cook Communications, Colorado Springs, CO, 1998).

What is his recommendation for giving meaning to these all-you-can-eat days? When life pressures us to cram as much as possible into a day, is there a way to savor any part of it, or are we stuck bloated and strangely, paradoxically, empty?

Well, as he said, sometimes less is more and we can consider cutting down our activities in order to focus on doing a few things well. To use his words, “sometimes a few well-prepared servings are more satisfying, ones where we have time to chew.” In other words, sometimes we’re simply doing too much. We need to cut back.

But he also suggests something simple and practical: pauses.

“Putting pauses into our schedule allows us to savor the individual servings in our day,” Gire advised. (p. 99, ibid.)

Pauses.

Breaks.

Time to reflect and contemplate the purpose and meaning in an interaction or event.

He recommends keeping a journal, to look back on the day and consider its highs and lows, and reflecting at length on the Scriptures.

As I read Gire’s observations and considered his ideas, I thought about the discussion we’ve been having about meaningful blogs.

In the comments, Ann of Holy Experience, wrote:

I read (somewhere? ~smile~) that when most reader check a blog post, they have a time allotment of an average of nine seconds before they click away. That is about 250 words or so.I think on this often. But I wonder if it is possible to write such that in those first nine seconds, they can find themselves drawn to a place where they want to slow, pause, take a deep breath, and want to read more. To consider. Reflect. Worship.And when they finally click away, they are in a different head and heart space…I often wonder too… if we write in sound bites, are we are contributing, cultivating a culture who thinks in flashes and snippets and clips…. instead of creating islands of soulful, contemplative thought…?

I’ve been thinking about Ann’s comment in conjunction with Gire’s analysis of the busy -v- reflective life, and the word “oasis” keeps coming to mind.

We need oases to replenish ourselves, to survive and flourish while on this 21st Century, fast-paced journey.

We must find islands of soulful thought, as Ann said, where we stop, think, ponder, rest, and reflect before revving up the engine and merging back onto the freeway.

She added worship to the list. A call to worship is asking a lot of a blog, but some writers pull it off. They point us to the Savior and remind us that this life is not about us. It’s not about our crazy-busy schedules, room-mom responsibilities, or carpool chaos. It’s not about the mindless TV shows that make us laugh. Life is more than Thanksgiving preparations and Christmas shopping.

In the pauses, we can remember to Whom we belong. We can reflect on His grace and look for the ways He is working in our world.

We can ask for help and give thanks.

We can realize what we’ve known all along but forgotten in the flurry–that this life, hectic and harried, or reflective and restful, is about Him.

An oasis can be the time and space in which we find meaning in all the other obligations and activities that pack our days.

An oasis is a fertile area in the middle of a desert, an island of life in a land of extremes. Any oasis serves as a refuge, relief, or pleasant change from what is usual, annoying, difficult.

An oasis: that’s what I would like to be as a person; even, if possible, as a blogger.

An oasis: that’s what I’d like to find for myself, as well–a regular refuge to refresh and replenish myself; a safe place to pause.

I think of Jesus’ invitation to come away and find rest. He had sent off the disciples, and they came back from the journey, gathered around Jesus and reported to him all they had done and taught.

Then, because so many people were coming and going that they did not even have a chance to eat, he said to them, “Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest.”

They needed to pull away….with Him.

We do, too.

He is our oasis.

The post An Oasis in our Fast-Paced Lives appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

At my brother’s urging, I signed up with StoryCorps to interview my mom back in 2007. My brother interviewed Dad.

The idea of StoryCorps is to collect the stories of everyday people and save them for posterity. Here’s how they explained their vision:

StoryCorps is modeled—in spirit and in scope—after the Works Progress Administration (WPA) of the 1930s, through which oral history interviews with everyday Americans across the country were recorded. These recordings remain the single most important collection of American voices gathered to date. We hope that StoryCorps will build and expand on that work, becoming a WPA for the 21st Century. (2007 website description)

Interviewing my mom was a privilege and pleasure—she’s a great storyteller, and I think we managed to capture excellent verbal snapshots of her life. We traveled back to her small town childhood during WWII, as she explained what a different world it was and how much freedom she was given to roam and explore. She talked about her dad, my grandfather, and what made their relationship so special. She told about interviewing Vivian Vance—yes, Ethel from I Love Lucy—for The Indianapolis Star. 

These were great snippets to get on record. StoryCorps provided us with a CD of the interview for our own family records, and evidently they file one with the Library of Congress.

Capturing Family Stories

But the experience also inspired me to schedule more time with mom and dad in order to record more stories, just for our family. On our walk back to the car, we recalled two or three more stories—famous family stories—that would have been wonderful to have her tell. Oh well. There’s only so much you can fit into a 40-minute interview. [Edited to add that Mom has since captured many of her stories in book form, in a memoir of sorts called Hoping for Dolphins.]

Reading the vision of StoryCorps made me think about blogs and social media. I think a lot of people are preserving stories for posterity via these platforms.

Many of us are living life and then writing about it, hitting highlights and lowlights, telling vivid stories and posting them to Facebook, Instagram, or a personal website. Informally, instinctively, and without being directed by a clear goal, we’re giving to the world a collective effort not unlike StoryCorps’ initiative. We are adding to the conversation in our own way, capturing life as we know it in the 21st Century.

Living and Writing Unfolding History

If someone were to scour our sites for the stories, they would likely find hints of history or history-in-the-making. Some bloggers tell stories from their childhood—which is history—while others type out what’s transpired in the past day or so—which will one day be history. 

Blogging and writing on social media differs from StoryCorps in that it’s not oral history (except for podcasters producing personal content), but it is history in everyday language by everyday people, recorded electronically and posted for all to ponder.

One day we may be astounded at the window into our world that seems so ordinary from day to day, as we sit in front of our computer terminals, diligently typing away.

We’re leaving a legacy, however lighthearted or profound it may be.

I find that fascinating and inspiring.

Recording the Stories

I was so inspired by the experience that I resolved to continue collecting family stories via audio and on paper or electronically—any way possible.

In order to collect high-quality audio of the stories, StoryCorps recommends acquiring a hand-held microphone and digital recorder, along with headphones to monitor the sound levels and quality.

It’s tempting to go overboard and borrow some high-tech equipment from church or a friend who specializes in multi-media, but I’ve used what I have. The sound quality was average in the beginning and has improved over time as handheld devices and phones offer top-notch mics.

My goal is to spend an hour with each of parent several times, until we’ve amassed a fine collection of family history, genealogy, anecdotes, tributes, and remembrances.

Here’s my plan:

• List Key Stories: I could kick myself for missing a few great family stories during our official StoryCorps interview. Before I go out to my parents’ house, I’m going to keep a running list of the “famous” ones that I want to capture. Then I can just go down the list and say, “Tell me the one about Aunt Lynn at the viewing” or “Let’s hear about great-grandma and the Chicago Fire.” These stories have been told and retold, so that’s the only prompt necessary. I’ll have Mom and Dad write some down, as well. I can keep a master checklist of those that are recorded, so that we don’t tell them over and over.
• Assemble Equipment: Before heading out, I’ll make sure I have extra batteries and the headphones to my MP3, or be sure to have a charger cored for the cell phone, so I don’t make all those plans and see them come to a screeching halt because of a dead battery. The headphones are just to check that it’s working.
• Keep Kids Occupied: Personally, I don’t mind hearing my cute kids in the background, but the recording would probably be better for posterity if I can keep them from interrupting. Besides, that would just be rude of them. Fortunately for me, my oldest daughters are old enough to babysit, so I can give them instructions to keep the youngest quiet and that should work fairly well. Maybe. Let’s hope. For people with younger kids, I suggest a little creative babysitting—maybe ask the grandparent if a neighbor could come over the keep the kids busy, or if there are two grandparents, ask if one could watch the kids as the other is interviewed.
• Additional Questions: Search for questions online, as I’m not the only one gathering stories from parents and grandparents. Using thoughtful, open-ended questions to ask curated by others arms us with lots to choose from.
• Refrain from Audible Encouragement: I’ve listened to some interviews I’ve conducted and can’t stand to hear myself saying, “Mmhm…okay…sure….ha-ha-ha-ha!” or whatever response seemed important at the time. You will enjoy this much more if you just pose the question and let the storyteller do all of the talking. Smile. Nod. Nod more if you need to. Raise your eyebrows. But I recommend refraining from lots of murmuring. Oh, and this should go without saying, but—don’t interrupt! Let the storyteller talk herself all the way to the end, and if she thinks of another story, let her have at it. Just jot it down on the master list.
• Jot Notes in a Notebook: As the storyteller is talking, he might say something that makes me think of yet another story I want to hear or a question to ask. Scribble notes, but don’t distract from the story. Look up quickly and nod again.

Complementary Story-Capturing Ideas

1. Blog: I also got the idea of creating a group blog. I haven’t succeeded in setting it up so that family members can easily log in and contribute, but I’m working on it. In the meantime, at the very least, Mom and Dad can write up their stories, e-mail them to me, and I can post them on the blog. That way we have a written record of the stories, as well, and can direct extended family members to it, or we can just enjoy reviewing the stories ourselves.
2. Kids’ Assignments: Involving the kids as interviewers is an interesting twist on the idea. I haven’t yet assigned this to my oldest, but I think it could be a good project for school—interviewing her grandparents and creating a written report afterwards, along with memory pages for a scrapbook.
3. Skype/Zoom-Interview: I was greatly impressed with Boomama’s podcasts (I haven’t listened to Episode 3 yet, so the link takes you to Episode 2) that are created using Skype but Zoom will work just as well. I can use that technology to capturing family history and stories of the other set of grandparents overseas. For people with parents who live far away, this could be a way to expedite the story-gathering process (rather than waiting until a visit)—assuming that one’s parents (or grandparents) would be able to handle their end of the technology.
4. Transcriptions: Transcribing those stories could be a good project for my tweeners’ typing practice. It’s hard work, but what a great Christmas present they could give to family members! The typed-out version of the recordings, bound together and if possible, illustrated with photocopied photographs that relate to each story. If they can’t handle that, I could do it myself (and be the one to give the marvelous gift). If you don’t mind paying for it, you could hire a high-school or college student to do the transcription part for a fee. Or use a system like Temi.com (now owned by Rev.com) or HappyScribe, which offers imperfect but fast and fairly accurate AI transcription.
5. Video: Another method would be to videotape the storyteller as he or she talks. Video files can also be uploaded to HappyScribe for transcription.

As I continue with the story-gathering process, I’ll probably generate even more ideas and solutions. In the meantime, don’t lose those stories. Go to the storytellers and one way or another, collect them and preserve them. It’s part of your heritage and history.

Besides, if you’re a writer, it’s great stuff to have on hand. After all, you never know when you’ll be asked to write your memoirs, autobiography, or just want some great stuff for a novel (you didn’t hear that, Mom).

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Janel Messenger published a post entitled “The Anti-Boredom Life,” in which she talked about modeling a life of curiosity and enthusiasm for learning, turning off the TV and assigning chores. After reading her post, I was ready to take the kids on a breezy bike ride, run in the woods or veg out in a hammock watching clouds. She also included some practical suggestions for the kids that anyone could pull out to inspire a little creativity (LEGOs, anyone?).

She referenced almost in passing another piece she wrote called “Five Fat Files.”

Lifelong learners? Autodidacts? The idea of five fat files ties in nicely with refreshing one’s mind, for one thing, and is a practical concept to help lifelong learners actually focus their curiosity.

It reminds me of a line from an article I read about brain research. I’ve never been able to confirm that this is an Einstein quote, but Dr. Daniel Amen wrote in his article “Optimizing Brain Function“:

Einstein said that if a person studies a subject for just 15 minutes a day in a year he will be an expert, and in five years he may be a national expert.

Man, if that’s true, Janel Messenger’s well on her way. She’s been collecting so much information, if she studies those five files 15 minutes a day, she could be a columnist for a national magazine or appear on Oprah. I love that she’s picked her five areas of expertise and filled files (and then “drawers full of files busting with a collective wisdom!”) with relevant articles, quotations and ideas.

Brilliant.

What labels would be on your Five Fat Files?

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I remember settling sideways in a black, plastic chair to sit across from a new client. I was developing my freelance corporate writing career simultaneous to incubating my first baby. My client, a land developer, stared doubtfully at the tent-like awning—er, maternity blouse—brushing the edge of the table. I tried tucking my “bump” under the table, but that didn’t work. That’s why I ended up sitting sideways to take notes.

“Are you sure you’ll be able to finish this job?” he asked, gesturing to my bump, “I mean, will you finish it before…uh…in time?”

“Of course!” I chirped in reply. “The baby is due next month—plenty of time to complete your information packets. Let’s get started.”

After my meeting, I drove home wondering if he was right. Would I be able to finish his project? Even broader than that, would I be able to launch this part-time career and deal with a new baby? Could I be the mother I want to be and become the writer I want to be? Could I do both well?

I wasn’t sure.

Somewhere along the line I ran into a Madeleine L’Engle quote:.

During the long drag of years before our youngest child went to school, my love for my family and my need to write were in acute conflict. The problem was really that I put two things first. My husband and children came first. So did my writing. Bump. (p. 19)

The bump. How interesting that she chose that word when talking about motherhood: bump. Funny, with biological moms flaunting their bumps these days in photos on blogs.

Anyway, knowing that Madeleine L’Engle developed her writing life in the context of motherhood gave me hope. If Madeleine figured it out, maybe I could, too.

And then an amazing opportunity presented itself. During that phase of early motherhood when my computer keyboard was bumping regularly against the umbrella stroller (metaphorically speaking), Madeleine spoke at a college about two hours away from my house. A friend of mine and I eagerly secured tickets. As expected, her talk inspired my writing-mind with her musings on time and space and creativity.

After her message, she signed books. Just to get her autograph, we stood for a long time, maybe an hour, in a line that snaked down a hallway. Madeleine’s health wasn’t good at the time, so they streamlined the process to minimize her stress and strain (and maximize the number of people who got books signed) by having us open our books and file through the room in a certain way. It was orchestrated smoothly. They wouldn’t appreciate a glitch.

I’m famous for glitches.

As we inched closer to the table where she sat signing book after book, I kept thinking, This is my chance to get some nugget to hold onto, some hope that somehow I’ll be able to pull off motherhood and writing.

“How, Madeleine?” I wanted to ask. “How did you do it?”

Maybe as much as knowing how, I just wanted some encouragement from her.

Maybe I wanted to hear her say, “You can do it. You’ll make it.”

Maybe a knowing smile and a slight nod would be enough.

I’m sure I was a maddening companion for my friend Julia during our long wait. I waffled. Should I ask, or should I just say thank-you and move on? If I asked her, what would she have time to say in the instant we were face-to-face?

Actually, I had a long list of questions I’d like to ask her. But I would have about five seconds.

Of all the things I could ask Madeleine L’Engle during those seconds I would stand in front of her—a chance in a lifetime—you’d think I’d go for something more esoteric or profound. Or ask her something more personal about Crosswicks or life in New York. But at that stage in my life, the most pressing question nagging me involved writing and motherhood:

How? How would I do this?

I handed her a book to sign (Walking on Water). She asked for my name and scrawled a note on its pages. She looked up and handed it to me.

“Thank you,” I said. Then I blurted it out: “When your kids were young…how did you do it? How did you manage to write?”

She looked up at me.

Eye contact.

One beat.

Two beats.

I’m sure my eyes were bugged out a little from the desperation I felt inside. I needed to know.

Three beats.

Four beats.

“It was hard,” she said.

And that was all she said.

Then she looked past me, hand outstretched for the next book, to scrawl another name, another mindless message, to click the next cog in the wheel that would get the assembly line back in motion and make up for my glitch.

It was hard? I already know that, Madeleine. I’m living that. I’m struggling. I’m dealing with the bump—the conflict, the struggle—every day.

I shuffled along with Julia out of the room.

What did I expect? It was a book signing, and I deserved no more time, wisdom or insight than anyone else in that long line of fans.

But boy did I need it. I needed hope from some author-mom on the other side, with kids all grown, who could look back and assure me that I’d make it through—someone who could offer a few principles for how to handle that Bump.

Madeleine couldn’t offer that.

Deep down, I knew it even before I asked.

A bit later I found myself in a writing workshop. Holly Miller was teaching. She used to work for the Saturday Evening Post. She’s written books and countless magazine articles. She frequently teaches writing workshops and seminars.

The event was held years ago in a small, intimate setting. Unlike my limited, five-second exchange with Madeleine, I had time to chat with Holly. I was the mother of three kids at the time. They were still very young.

After the official seminar finished, the room cleared out except for a few stragglers. I stood back and listened as she interacted with three friends of mine. Then she turned her attention to me.

I was lugging my portfolio, which included feature articles I’d written for the newspaper. A magazine article or two. Some brochures.

I’m sure she was noting that same bug-eyed look of desperation that poor Madeleine had to face.

“Here’s some of my work,” I stammered. “My kids are all young. I want to write and develop myself more.” She was leafing through the pages. “But…you, Holly, you’ve ‘arrived.’ You’ve done it! You’ve pulled it off—I dream of one day being where you are now. And you did it with kids. I just wonder how? How did you do it?”

She looked into my pleading, buggy eyes and reassured me. “You’re doing it. I mean, you’ve got some nice work here. You’re getting your name out there. You’re working at it. I think you should feel good about what’s shaping up here.”

Then I remember her eyes. There was a shift. She asked how old my kids were. I told her, and her eyes grew distant, almost melancholy. I don’t know if that’s what it was, but that’s what I felt.

“I’m where I am today because I worked long hours full-time when my kids were young,” she continued. “And now they’re grown. You’ll still have time to develop your career later, but you only have now with your kids. Your kids are so little, and they’re little for such a short time. Right now, I suggest you focus on your children. You’ll never regret spending time with those kids.

“Keep your finger in the publishing world,” she concluded. “Just keep your name out there. Publish locally with your paper, like you are. Submit to magazines. Keep it going on a small scale and your time will come.”

Finally: An answer.

I thought I was looking for hope or a plan of action. What I was really looking for was: Perspective.

That wistful look has carried me for years. I did not want to live with regret that I gave too much to my career and not enough to my little children, so I let that reflective advice assure me, especially when others were building more impressive careers than mine, that my time will probably come. Eventually.

And if it turns out that my time never comes as a writer, I’ll have been (and be) the mom I want to be for my children.

I was never bug-eyed desperate after that.

Taking Holly’s advice, I’ve faithfully kept my finger out there in the publishing world:

• maintaining this blog
• submitting to a magazine now and then
• authoring a book
• writing for corporations, organizations and not-for-profits.

I could stand to be savvier. There’s probably a way to make money from all these words I compose for the blog. I’m working on new projects and ramping up my writing life in other ways.

Maybe my time is coming. Maybe not. We shall see. Lord willing, we shall see.

But there are still soccer games to support. Softball practices. Meals and birthdays. Doctor’s appointments and carpets to vacuum.

My little boy just today asked me to read Mirette on the High Wire, which I did, along with Mem Fox’s Wilfred Gordon McDonald Partridge and Possum Magic. And then we ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and an apple cut up.

But he also had to wait while I finished up an e-mail that I had to send out for my freelance work, and when I told him he had to go to drop-off childcare so that I could attend some meetings, he muttered, “I wish you didn’t have this job.”

Parenting. Writing.

Bump. Bump. Bump.

Life’s an experiment. It evolves; I adapt.

I live, laugh, love…and write.

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The post Life. Parenting. Writing. Perspective. (Writing in the Midst of Motherhood) appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

To succeed, you must persevere.

J.K. Rowling, Agatha Christie and Hunter S. Thompson received their share of rejection letters. According to Lulu, “Stephen King got so many that he used to nail them on a spike under a timber in his bedroom.”

In the Christian market, Max Lucado received rejections from 14 publishers before On the Anvil was accepted, and Frank Peretti also stuck it out in spite of 14 rejections. Don’t know what’s up with the number 14, but that’s a lot of rejection. It would surely tempt a person to doubt. I can feel like giving up after only the fourth rejection. I can be kind of insecure that way.

But they persevered. Max Lucado is a household name in Christian households, and Frank Peretti has certainly made an impact with his books on the spiritual realm. They have remarkable perseverance to keep working and submitting in light of twelve, then thirteen, and then fourteen rejections. They both had to send it out a 15th time to find a taker.

It’s hard to get rejected so many times that your file folder starts to bulge with all of that negativity, or your paper shredder jams with the sheer number of sheets you’re jamming in.

Perseverance sends you back to the computer chair to keep tapping away, composing a new cover letter, maybe even composing a completely new opening to a new article or reworking a chapter. Perseverance studies submission guidelines and sends off queries. Hope, faith and prayer come in handy, too.

My dad is fond of a Winston Churchill quote that sums it up nicely: Never, never, never give up.

Not in war.

Not in writing.

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If Midwestern places are so grim and gray, why do writers keep recalling them, sometimes after decades of living far away? What draws the imagination back across the miles and years? The chief lure is the country itself; the forests, fields, and prairies, the wandering rivers, wide skies, dramatic weather, the creekbeds lined with sycamores and limestone, the grasses and flowers, hawks and hickories, moths and cicadas and secretive deer. Again and again in literature about the Midwest you find a dismal, confining human realm – farm, village, or city – embedded in a mesmerizing countryside… By turns cruel and comforting, the land holds them, haunts them, lingers in their memory and bones.Scott Russell SandersWriting from the Center(as quoted in this online article)

While I’m concerned about the effect of the “dismal, confining human realm,” if it indeed exists, I have focused more on the “mesmerizing countryside.” I’m trying very hard to appreciate the sycamores and limestone, cicadas and secretive deer. I guess that’s why I write about worms, crawdads, and trees.And I suppose that these topics–this humble, rural subject matter–have exposed my obvious roots. I shouldn’t be surprised that people take note.For example, when Mom in Action delurked to wish me a Happy Birthday, she wrote, “Your writing evokes a midwestern charm and perspective that I miss. I’ve enjoyed connecting with my roots again through your writing.” I was at first delighted–we’ve discovered via e-mail that we have a mutual friend and ran track against each other in high school–but the fact that my writing “evokes a midwestern charm and perspective” also makes me wonder if I should be a little embarrassed, as if I’m exposed as the rube I may in fact be. Should I be aiming for a higher level of sophistication, or tickled that my writing feels like a safe little country cottage, glowing and warm from a bright fire crackling in the fireplace?Am I so obviously a midwestern blogger?As I’ve been reflecting on these things, I happened to be reading Chosen By a Horse, a memoir by Susan Richards. She had to transport a sick horse six hours away (one way) for treatment just before Christmas and needed someone to ride with her.

I got out my address book and started going through it. As soon as I came to Dorothy’s name I reached for the phone. She was the right friend for this trip. She didn’t know anything about horses, but she was kind and loving and strong. She was the only friend I had who was from the Midwest, and it showed. She was as sensible as a wool hat.”Sure,” she said without hesitating. “I’ll make corn bread.” (p. 170)

I stopped right on that line and re-read the passage. Dorothy was from the Midwest, and it showed, Richards wrote. Some of the adjectives she selected for Dorothy were “kind,” “loving” and “strong.”I guess I wouldn’t mind being known as kind, loving and strong.Richards also described her as sensible–as sensible as a wool hat.Sensible is good.Sensible is…safe.Sensible is….woolen.Sensible is….midwestern.And I do make good cornbread.I am a wool hat.I am Dorothy.I can’t get around it: I’m a Midwesterner.

And I’m dealing with it.

The post I'm a Midwestern Blogger: Sensible as a Wool Hat appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

Sorry. Where was I?

Oh, yes, regarding that post. Well, I thought I’d stick it here on my WordPress blog and get some input. I updated the number of blogs that I referenced; otherwise, this is exactly what I wrote. Perhaps you can tell me why it would be getting so much traffic, and feel free to address the question I posed at the end:

People want to be heard. Lots of people–55 million bloggers are being tracked by Technorati alone–all blogging their hearts out!

At one point during this surfing, I was struck by the sheer numbers of blogs and suddenly pictured them stuffed inside bottles, corked and floating in a virtual sea. Just like the song by the Police, “Message in a Bottle,” where Sting hopes that someone gets his message in a bottle, then walks out one morning and can’t believe what he sees–a hundred billion bottles washed up on the shore.

Maybe we’re all just castaways, tossing out our ideas and thoughts in hopes that someone will get our message. Maybe everyone is scribbling, cramming, corking their messages and tossing them into the worldwide web…and no one is reading them.

Or maybe people are reading them…maybe there are twice as many readers as bloggers, and they really are making an impact. If so, it’s a fascinating phenomenon. It’s surely changing us in significant ways: language and vocabulary, the concept of publishing and readership, communication, transfer and cross-fertilization of ideas. All of that is evolving into something new. Highly intelligent people who have never published a book or magazine article are sharing their insights. Average Joes and Josephines with profound life stories can encourage the world.

Whether or not people are reading blogs, they do represent a new freedom of speech being exercised. How can we make the most of it–as readers and writers?

The post 55 Million Messages in Bottles (formerly "Message in a Bottle") appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

The author of the article, Dayna Macy, is a writer who is exploring whether or not she should have a child. “I have postponed motherhood in order to get my writing life moving,” she explained, “and now that it is, I find myself wondering how these lives might be combined.”

For insight, she interviewed authors–some of them moms, some not–to get their perspective on how being a mom, or a non-mom, has affected their writing. Some resent how motherhood has restricted their writing careers. Some struggle with the Bump that L’Engle described (see previous entry on this topic). A few–how sad that only a few–seem to easily embrace motherhood and merge it with writing.

She interviewed a writer named Sue Halpern, who struck me as quite sensible and lighthearted about the whole thing. She “feels no resentment that her ambitions have been thwarted,” Macy noted. Married with one child, Sophie, age 4 at the time of the interview, Halpern described the “Heisenberg Principle” of having kids:

Sophie is much more interesting to me than any book I could possibly be doing at the moment. I don’t find other people and other people’s issues more compelling. I don’t feel that the learning curve is as great. I don’t feel at all resentful…but if you had asked [me before having Sophie] if by having a child you weren’t able to do the substantive work that you actually could do, would I be resentful? I probably would have said yes. But now there’s substance to the whole hypothetical question — here’s this child, here’s this family, here’s this situation, here’s your life. There’s just no theoretical way of discussing that anymore… It’s the Heisenberg Principle in action. Obviously she changes everything — put Sophie in your life, put a child in your life and every single thing changes. Your entire consciousness has changed.

Macy asked Halpern to elaborate:

A writer told me before I had a child that having a child is better than any byline you’ll ever get. And I thought, yeah, probably, uh-huh. But it didn’t mean anything to me when he said that. But it’s true. It’s not obvious until you blow off the byline to spend time with your kid. I think that this notion of you, yourself, being in process, being created, at the same time that your child is growing, to me, is a lot more compelling than anything else I could do.

Halpern just hit on something that I have thought a lot about: that I myself am in process, being “created,” if you will, at the same time that my children are growing. Halpern claims this is more compelling than anything else she could do.

I, too, find it compelling because the human being I am today–the wife, writer, friend, daughter that I am today–is completely integrated with my role as a mom. God has used motherhood to change me–transform me, mold me–and this has, of course, changed the way I relate to the world. Being a mom has deeply affected who I am as wife, writer, friend, daughter, neighbor, blogger. Other than the day I turned my entire life over to Jesus Christ, which is the root of who I am, no other role in life has so profoundly impacted everything else. Motherhood changes everything.Including my writing. The majority of my articles and blogs, books and e-mails, are spattered with stories from my life as a mom. Now, if I’m writing about Search Engine Optimization or spark plugs, the content is straightforward and focuses on the topic at hand. But the other writing often flows through the mom-filter out to the world, to whomever relates in some way.

Some people commented on earlier posts that parenting provides outstanding material for a writer’s projects: lessons learned and illustrations, humor for those inclined to make us laugh about their kids’ antics, insight from poignant interactions. We’re living story. We’re sharing life with another human being, or two, or three, and each day is a story, or a succession of shorter stories. And stories speak to something deep inside of us. Stories provide connection.Which is why my mother doesn’t prefer posts like these. Story-less, theoretical, philosophical posts aren’t very interesting, she has said.

And she’s probably right.

So for my mom and anyone else who cares, here’s a story to complete this post.

Out of the blue, The Boy (my youngest of four kids, a five-year-old) asked, “I wonder if the nanny and the children were sad when they didn’t get the trophy?”

“What are you talking about?”

“In ‘The Sound of Music,’ the nanny, when she was their mom, after she got married, they won the contest, but they had to escape to Switzerland, so they didn’t get the trophy from the festival. I hope they weren’t too sad.” He even made a droopy face. What compassion.

The post Writing in the Midst of Motherhood, Pt. 3 appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

photo by Deidra of JumpingTandem.com

I’m just finishing up Writing from the Center, a collection of essays from Scott Russell Sanders. In the chapter from which the book takes its title, Sanders seeks “to know where authentic writing comes from; I would like to know the source of those lines that are worth keeping, the writing that brings some clarity and beauty into the confusion of our lives.” (p. 149)

I’d like to know that source, as well. I’d like to discover where authentic writing comes from, in hopes of producing some. Has he found it? I’m not sure, so I read on.Back when the happily married Sanders was launching his writing life, he was disturbed to read quotes from famous authors advising that writers should avoid marriage. They claimed that it stunts talent and stifles creativity. To be a serious artist, many claimed, one must sacrifice everything else to your work. He summarizes some words from Tillie Olsen:

[She] argues that “substantial creative work” can be produced only when “writing is one’s profession, practiced habitually, in freed, protected, undistracted time as needed, when it is needed. Where the claims of creation cannot be primary, the results are atrophy; unfinished work; minor effort and accomplishment; silences.” It would be hard for any writer who has tried juggling job and marriage and art to disagree with Olsen; and yet her argument beings to sound ominous when she sums it up by quoting Kafka: “Evil is whatever distracts.” (p. 154)

Sanders suggests, however, that many influential writers must have had significant distractions. William Carlos Williams, a doctor, surely would have been distracted by his patients; yet, he managed to write poetry (on the back of prescription pads, if memory serves me right). Poets who had students (Sanders himself is a professor) would have been approached with concerns about semester exams and upcoming assignments, yet they captured meaningful poetry. I can’t help but imagine Pulitzer-prize-winning journalists of the past working in the bustle of a noisy newsroom with phones ringing, typewriters clacking, and editors shouting out, “Copy!” They managed to produce powerful prose in the midst of distractions. Distractions can’t be blamed for bad writing (or no writing), because beautiful work has been produced in the midst of distraction. This is a relief to me, a mom in a state of constant distraction.

Sanders returns to the question of marriage-as-distraction:

What writer, embroiled in family and household and job, has never dreamed of stealing away into seclusion? What writer of either sex has not sometimes yearned, as Emerson phrased it, “to be released from every species of public or private responsibility”? …If anyone out there has labored at writing without ever craving such freedom, please will your brain to science, so that we might discover the secret of your serenity. (p. 155)

Uh, yes. I’ve dreamed of “stealing away into seclusion,” you bet. For both prayer and writing, and just a little silence. Then I liked what he wrote here:

The goal of the writer’s practice is the same as anyone else’s: to seek understanding of who and where and what we are, to come fully awake. If you are well married, sharing a life and not merely a bed or a bank account, then family may become your territory for doing the real work–spiritual as well as practical–of being human. (p. 156)

One could argue whether or not our goal is to become fully awake, but I do love hearing someone whose writing I admire confirming that my territory for writing is motherhood, marriage, family—and that it can work. I can explore this territory in my writing. I’ve chosen this territory, this setting, in which to live my life. I’ve chosen writing, as well. They do more than coexist—family and writing for me are inextricably intertwined. My writing is influenced and even inspired by my life as a mom, and motherhood has become more meaningful as I explore it through writing. Much material comes from this territory, and much is lost while I’m busy living it.

In the final essay, “Letter to a Reader,” Sanders writes, “From the richness of marriage, its depths and delights, I have learned the meaning of commitment—to a person, to a place, to a chosen work. Outside of this union I would have written quite different books, or perhaps none at all.” (p. 175)

And finally, he admits that he does need to pull away in order to write.

I must withdraw into solitude, must close my door against the world, close my mind against the day’s news. But unless the writing returns me to the life of family, friends, and neighbors with renewed energy and insight, then it has failed. My writing is an invitation to community, an exploration of what connects us to one another to the earth. (p. 186)

This is interesting in light of blog writing. To think that our writing is an invitation to community…I think that might be part of what we’re doing out here on the worldwide web. We’re inviting others to join us, to think with us, be amused, ponder, cry, reach out to others. We’re exploring what connects us to one another to the earth. But we’re using virtual means to do so. Strange.At this very moment, my five-year-old son is making sounds like a parrot two feet away while playing with a Playmobil pirate ship. I’m finding it hard to focus. And he’s calling me to join him.

As a writer, I want to compose a few more thoughts.

As a mom, I must excuse myself.

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