In my previous, working life, my conversations tended to deal with current events in whatever town I was working in. Often, it involved politics in county seat, state and Washington, DC, as we pontificated about the sometimes absurdities coming out of these august bodies.
In my current, retired life with three published books under my belt, conversations still tend to deal with current events and politics and the sometimes absurdities coming out of these august bodies. However, some time during these conversations, the talk will migrate towards my books or, more usually, about the writing process.
As a case in point, when I got my haircut the other day, Teresa asked me about blogging between snips of the scissors. When I pressed her a little more, she asked if it was hard to write. Now, that’s a loaded question. She added she was thinking about blogging, but didn’t know where to start. Because we’ve been friends forever, I could get away with the flippant, “Just start.”
Seriously, though, blogging is nothing more than changing your audience from journaling. We’ve discussed this before. Journals are this generation’s version of diaries in my generation. From my perspective, diaries were for girls — so journals, likewise, are for girls and women of today. I know my wife would argue that point {my daughters, too}. In fact, after she died I discovered journals stuffed in just about every nook, cranny, and drawer in the house.
Her writing changed my mind. They shed light on issues she stuffed behind a facade. They explained some of her actions or inactions. They provided a more complete picture of who she was. They helped develop her legacy.
I have learned that many, many bloggers — including Teresa — have started with journaling, often on tear-stained pages. They discovered themes in their writing that potentially could help other — and took the step to broaden their writing from an audience of one to a wider net.
And it doesn’t have to be personal; it can be practical. In Teresa’s case, her idea is writing about wine for the average consumer. Living in the winery-rich Finger Lakes region, she found herself critiquing the samples during wine tastings. She included notes about ambience, supplemental offerings {like cheese, crackers, pairings}, and even waitstaff and their product knowledge. She first remembers jotting down notes on the back of a napkin, but has graduated to a notebook dutifully tucked in her purse. And the note-taking expanded to trips and vacations outside the Finger Lakes.
Sounds like the premise for a blog to me.
“But how do I start?”
By starting. Find a hosting service and build your site. Most platforms have tutorials to help bring out your personality.
“Do you have to write every day?”
No. You set the tone and pace. Post once a month, once a week, somewhere in between.
“It’s out of my comfort zone.”
Welcome to writing. Many writers have the passion, but had to learn how to step out of their comfort zone and let the passion rule. Regardless of your regularity, it comes down to consistency. That really leads to putting some regular time aside to just write. Five minutes, half hour, hour … it doesn’t really matter. The point is to exercise your brain on a regular basis so when it comes time to write your post, it becomes natural — and well within your new comfort zone.
“How do you build a following?”
That’s the tricky part. Believe it or not, it’s one reader at a time. Read other blogs dealing with your topic. See what works, see what you like, see what you don’t like. Reach out to other bloggers. Interact. In Teresa’s case, reach out to the wineries for support. One reader at a time.
I don’t know if Teresa — or anyone else — will take the next step. But I’m kind of looking forward to a blog about the Wines of the Finger Lakes — and Beyond. I envision back stories for the everyday consumer.
If others have a passion and want to cross over from the Comfort Zone, share with me. I’m here to help — a simple writer paying it forward.
THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: The miracle is not that we do this work, but that we are happy to do it. — Mother Teresa
A Sussex (England) man who forgot about a speeding fine for 52 years has paid up after finding the ticket in an old coat pocket.
The Watchword for the Week — For God so loved the world that He gave His only Son, so that everyone who believes in Him may not perish but may have eternal life. John 3:16
Let’s remember to approach the throne room and respond with faith and not fear, knowing the promises of God and His mighty hand will hold us through any situation! Sometimes, all it takes is just one prayer to change everything. Something extraordinary happens when two or more agree together in prayer.
Please pray for Denise who is battling cancer. She started chemo maintenance last night. It’s to be taken five nights in a row … double dosage from treatment. Praying her immune system continues to stays strong as the next cycle when the doctor intends to add another 100 mg to dosage.
We come to You, Lord, because prayer is the least yet the greatest thing we can do for each other. When two or more are gathered in Your name, we confidently know You are with us. What better company can we have? You reign and we trust You! We may be broken and battered but know You heal and quiet the soul. You are the source for all that happens in our lives. We thank You for the progress being made. We thank You for the many blessings we have received this week — some we unfortunately didn’t notice. Nonetheless, those blessings are ever-present in our lives. We thank You for healing. We thank You for slowing us down. We thank You for providing us our daily needs — no more and no less. We thank You for being with us, listening to us, walking with us on this journey. We thank You for the support of our family and friends … for seeing the extraordinary in the ordinary — sunrises, sunsets, flowers, kids laughing, adventures, good news amid the bad news. We know we can come to You with our concerns and they will be heard. Through Christ all things are possible. We lift up those family members and friends who are battling various physical, emotional, financial, career or spiritual issues and ask not for Your guidance and healing (although that would be welcomed) but to keep reminding us we are not alone in our battles. Specifically we lift up Andrew, Richard, Thomas, Johnny, Wendy, Denise, Millie, Wyatt, Mark, Lincoln, Karen, Beth, and all those needing Your healing and guiding touch. We pray for the families of all those You have called home. We grieve … You celebrate. We pray for obedience to Your Will so Your “Son” Light shines through us through the power of the Spirit. And we come to You through the confidence of the words taught by Your Son Jesus. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.
I invite you to join us in reading the wide interpretations and multi-genre presentations of the prompt. Or, better yet, try your hand! It’s five minutes (more or less) with few rules and no obligations. It’s fun (albeit sometimes challenging). It’s networking at its finest.
I remember Grandma’s kitchen table, an extra thick stainless steel table with a large, heavy blonde base and legs. The top was brown checks on a cream base around the border, morphing into an intricate swirl design at the corners. Even then, much of the design was worn and blended together. There was always a bowl of nuts in the center — still shelled like walnuts and almonds. Sometimes there was fruit. Grandma always told me and my cousins to sit at the table as she gave us cookies and a cold glass of milk. On Sundays after church I would feast on jelly donuts at that table.
And then I think of another table, a celestial table. I am being escorted into the banquet room amid cheers from family and friends — some of whom I never met. “Come to the table,” the Voice says. With a smile and misty eyes {there’s no crying in heaven} I answer, “I think I will.”
These particular chimes were Amish crafted, with deep and rich notes when the breeze plays with the clapper and sail. It was bigger than the other chimes that graced our walkway to the back porch, both dominating yet complementing the others. We could hear it from the gazebo as background music or from our bedroom {we slept with the window open} as white noise.
After she died, almost every time I left or came home, the chimes bid me farewell or greeted me. So, the following Spring, I attempted to build her the gazebo she always wanted. Quickly realizing I did not follow in Joseph’s carpentry skills, I purchased one — another Amish creation. It still stands.
I purchased an ornate two-seat glider and roughly from April through October, placed her urn on a table so she could enjoy the rose garden she planted — one rose for each of the grandchildren. She could identify each rose — Stacia, Zack, DJ, Anthony, Taylor, etc. After she died, I needed help, so I had the grandkids paint a stone in front of their bush bright red and sign their name in contrasting white.
Each spring, summer, early fall, I would go to the gazebo and sit with her, gently rocking in the glider. I would read my Interpreter’s Bible as my God time in the quiet, then literally talk to her over coffee and perhaps a muffin or toast. It was a routine we shared when she was alive — as often as practical, sharing coffee and breakfast and the daily cartoon and plans for the day and beyond.
All those memories flashed before me as I listened to the whispering bells linking the present with the past. This post, for example, is being written from the glider in the gazebo, although Karen is safely tucked in in the car. Most of the Christmas trees are still growing strong. Most of the roses are dormant, their weathered red stones marking their spot.
Radio To The Rescue
I found myself saying that repeatedly as I listed to the audio version of Where the Crawdads Sing, a repeated recommendation from friends. The multi-tiered story was a breakout fictional
With the realization of God’s love firmly in mind, the pilgrim on the journey of Lent uses this time as an opportunity to focus their mind, body, and spirit on the person of Jesus Christ. Therefore, the common practice of fasting or self-denial is not the focus of Lent, but rather it is a useful tool to help focus the pilgrim on Jesus’s sacrifice and bringing them to more fully appreciate and participate in the new life provided through His resurrection. The journey of Lent, therefore, is bookended with these two divine blessings: the realizations we are children of our Heavenly Father and the power of the resurrection enabling us to enter fully into the resurrected life of the Kingdom.
The Light 