And here it is...

By Karen Dums

My copy of Harper Lee's Go Set a Watchman arrived in the library's courier delivery today.
I am unsure.
Should I dive in and read?
Should I let it sit on the shelf, resting for a bit?
Should I send it back without turning a page?
I am unsure.
Ms Lee is an elderly woman in ill health. Her sister Alice, who passed away last November, was both her lawyer and her protector. Was there a reason this manuscript lay hidden these many years? Therein lies my quandary. My passion for To Kill a Mockingbird in both book and film format knows no bounds. If you've read anything I've ever written this may be a known fact and I apologize for any redundancy but you see...
I am unsure.
Are those surrounding Ms Lee looking out for her best interests?
If this book was refused by an editor once what makes it any more publishable now?
Is someone trying to parlay an icon's name into ready cash? It would not be the first time.
I am unsure.
The cover is lovely. Has that same look and feel as the earliest of the Mockingbird printings had.
Hmmmm. One can't judge a book by its cover now can one?
And I'll admit it, I've been using this silly mindset for an excuse since I first heard, months ago, that the book was coming out in July.
"C'mon Karen, it's a book, another book by Harper Lee!"
Ahhh how refreshing a little self induced pep talk can be! That was so very easy. No longer am I unsure. The decision is made. After work this evening I will shed my shoes, curl up on the sofa and open the pages. What I find will not sully what has long been my respect for Nelle Harper Lee and her initial foray into the land of book publishing. It's provided her a Pulitzer Prize for Literature, among other awards, and she's been living off royalties her entire life -- at least that is what I am left to presume. Atticus, Boo, Scout, Jem... everyone grows and changes, but Watchman will not change Mockingbird. Nothing can.
Still...I'll let you know what I think.
Then again, don't I always.

It is  beautiful, isn't it?

plays with words...

by Karen Dums

"Now is the winter of my discontent." Hardly original but appropriate. The weather, our most overly-used conversational topic, has been less than stellar. Snow is wonderful. Sub-zero temps not so much. In any case, just a few months back I finished a novel, my first complete beginning to end, edited, formatted, ready to go novel. Exciting? Yes. The querying of agents and publishers? With a bow to redundancy, not so much. There's the waiting and wondering; leaves me feeling restless to begin something new. Or perhaps revisiting something old. If there were a  piece of oak attached to my frontal lobe I could not be more stricken with writer's block. Thus I had an idea. A simply marvelous idea. Well I liked it anyway and so did the rest of my fellow Guild members. We're sponsoring a writing contest. Can you hear the skip of happiness in my words? I hope so. I'm so excited.

Use them

It's not our first writers' contest, but it has been awhile so why not? We love the craft of wordsmithing. Why not open ourselves up to the works of other like-minded wordsmiths and enjoy? And we want it to be fun. Oh. Never doubt that we take our writing very seriously. But we've titled this latest contest "Plays with Words" since we want it to be more about the shared experience of penning something than a down and dirty competition. We will give entrants work a good look over with an unjaundiced eye, that is our promise. Red pens may flash! But in the end it will be about the writing process and what it brings to each writer's life as it is shared with others.

We've learned one valuable lesson (at least one, most probably more) from our first contest. Comparing apples to apples. Thus we are splitting the contest in a unique way. Poetry vs. poetry, short story/essay vs. short story/essay. There will be prizes in each category. More than one actually. Why not fire up the computer or pull out your best pen and notebook and give it a try? It's not difficult. But we do have a few rules. It must be an original work of the person submitting it and it can be no longer than 7,500 words (that gives a lot of leeway). There is no specific age criteria -- good writing is good writing regardless of age. There is no specific genre criteria. If you write sci-fi, romance, thriller, anecdotal...any and all will fit. Send it via snail mail to Writers Contest, 141 N 4th Ave., Park Falls, WI 54552 or use the hotmail address found on this site to send it via email, placing Writers Contest in the subject line. We'll take it either way. Read it, respect it and give it our best critique.   

First day for accepting submissions is Thursday, Jan. 15. Last day for accepting submissions is Monday, Feb. 16. The final decisions will be made at our Monday, March 2 meeting and the winners will be notified within that week by their contact of choice. Monday, March 9 beginning at 6:30 p.m. we will host an open read in the board room of the Park Falls Public Library. Participants are invited to read their works and accept their prizes. We'll have a refreshment table. Some of us might horn in with a work or two of our own.

We ask that participants place their name, the word count of the piece they are sending and their contact information on the entry. That's it. Hope to hear from you very soon.  

In the now...

By Karen Dums

Once upon a time I was a  young girl, young, not at all wild, not at all free.
Once upon a time I was a young girl, who longed all those things to be.
Now I am an old girl, the clock has ticked on by;
And what do you know? It happened, at last I can fly!
Why was I frightened those long years ago?
What held me back from being part of the flow?
Perhaps that was it, I danced a different tune.
Stepped to a different drummer, became "old" too soon.
Oddly enough I am happier this day 
Numbers don't matter, don't hold any sway.
I'll do what I do. I'll be what I am.
If others don't like it...well I won't give a damn.
I'll keep my own counsel. Keep my own ear.
Life's oh so much better living it "right here".

Odd it took me 50-plus years to begin living in the now. My late mother always suggested that I just let myself "be". I didn't understand her then. I understand her now. Beset by worry I held myself back from activities I enjoyed. Whatif, whatif, whatif!!! Let fear keep it's grip lest the world turn to ice ala Elsa in the movie "Frozen". Stayed stuck on the ground when the air was where I wanted to rise.

So I started late. At least I started. Self-exposure is not something I do well (out of the gutter please). Little glimpses are about all anyone is likely to get from me.

But cliche' aside (you know the one, life's a gift, that's why we call it the present) living in the present tense is not such a bad thing. One can get accustomed to letting the past go, looking forward to the future with something akin to hope, if not hope itself. Being spontaneous, spur of the moment. Fun. Even if we are the only ones who actually get the joke.

I'm not suggesting we cast aside all reason -- that would be pure chaos for me at least -- but flying by the seats of our pants once in a while can be a good thing. It takes us out of the rut. The box. The little corner we've painted ourselves into.

To hell with the paint, it can get smeared for all I care. I'm writing myself out of that corner at last. Pen in hand I'm going to give myself a shot by living completely in the now.
  

Open then close

By Karen Dums

We knock at the door of Christmas, hanging wreaths, decorating cookies, wrapping gifts. It's a whirlwind of activity for many. We can get tangled in our own tinsel, trip on the extensions cords running hither and yon, fall into the trap of too much.

Peace on Earth? Not in the checkout line at WalMart.

Good will to all? Not when three people want the last toy on the shelf. THE last toy of its kind. That's more "its every man for himself".

Wow.

For those of us who profess to be Christians there is the added aspect of the Advent season itself -- celebrating the birth of our Savior even as we await the time of His coming again. A foot in each of two separate worlds?

No wonder the season fills the most hardy souls amongst us with dread and probably fills psychiatric offices with patients new and old! We get caught up. Too caught up?

Isn't it more a time when we should be filled with joy? With wonder? With awe? Or can't we, at the very least, slow down, take time to reflect a bit? After all the window behind us is soon closing on another year while the window in front of us is opening to yet another.

As someone who loves all aspects of the written word, including writing itself, I always cast the new year in the role of a blank page. What will we write on it? What will be written on it for us? Its a piece of history, both personal and otherwise.

The bells of Christmas will hardly cease pealing when the bells ushering in a new year will begin chiming. Let's be awake for them. Let's be active participants on the next page of life.
What'cha think?  Let's dive through that open window head first.

Just the facts...

by Karen Dums

I've been working on a little non-fiction piece. It began as a poem and seems to be morphing into a series of essays. Written works will often do that. Take themselves on a path the writer never envisioned.

It's like this: I've lived in a small town nearly all my life. It's not a new idea that it seems to be in a state of decline, I've harbored that thought for a while. Now it wants to burst out onto the written page. I'm not sure about that. Not sure at all.

Writing fiction can be easy. We "make shit up" and no one gets hurt. When we're writing about the real hurt can happen. There can be fallout. We must be very careful.

So. Do I want to continue working on this piece?

The answer: an unequivocable yes.

Wish me luck.

Hard to say good-bye

By Karen Dums

Fellow Guild charter member Peg Zaemisch has taken a job that will take her away from the environs in which our writer's group exists. For five years she has been a voice of wit and wisdom, both at the writing table and aside from it.

I will miss her quiet speech.

I will miss her gentle humor.

I will miss her regaling us with a tale, anecdotal or pure fiction, that could make me roar with laughter or reduce me to near tears (I'm NOT an easy cryer).

I will miss her.

Then there's the pushier side of me: She's in the midst of penning a wonderful novel and I soooo want to be there to hear it complete. I sooooo want to be there when she receives word that an agent or publisher has picked it up. I soooo want to hear the joy in her voice when she gets the contract that is absolutely positively coming. I soooo want to be a part of her work in progress. It's been such a joy to watch and hear it unfold to an amazingly interesting point.

I will miss it, but not as much as her.

However.

Being unemployed is an unhappy circumstance. Thus this little voice inside of me keeps whispering "send her off with love,  with best wishes, with some semblance of joy".

She has obtained a job in the newspaper business, a business she has long been a part of.

She will reside closer to her beloved grandchildren.

Both those things make her happy.

It follows then that those things make me happy.

Loss of her weekly presence does not.

But...

"If you have other things in your life—family, friends, good productive day work—these can interact with your writing and the sum will be all the richer."
                                                                                         - David Brin

You are set to be rich indeed my friend. Good luck from your "uppity a/k/a third story" friends.

Hello November

By Karen Dums

Some may know and some may not know that November is National Novel Writing Month, for those of us in the "biz", NANO for short. But who wants to write an entire novel in just 30 days? It's sooo daunting. How can it be done? But wait...perhaps we need to do the math. Hmmm.

30 days. 50,000 words. By my calculations that's 1660 words a day. Doable? Let's investigate.

Say one can type 100 words a minute that's 6000 words in an hour. Wow.

Of course we must factor in thinking time. And perhaps we don't type but use the pen. And perhaps we won't be typing 100 words a minute even if we could still. Doable? Possible? Yes.

So do it.

Or not.

Do what some of us do. Set a goal.

I'm going to edit my most recent work.

I'm doing to rewrite that piece I abandoned long ago.

I'm going to read my novel aloud to check for cadence and flow.

I'm going to hit the books, find an agent, a publishing house, or maybe several, to submit to.
Ah but first I'd best tweak my query letter.

I'm going to fill up that space behind the blinking cursor.

There's more to writing than putting out as many words as you can in the shortest time possible. But it can be done.

Do it.

Or not.

Embrace it.

Here it comes.

Go...