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Where is your want-to button?

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Victoria Advocate, A Different Perspective

Caption: Ria in costume.

Since my daughter’s house flooded, I’ve longed to see everything back to normal. My husband has gone several times to help with the different aspects of repairs, but I wanted a turn. When she called on my birthday and told me about the girls’ reading projects, I knew it was time for a face-to-face visit. I taught speech and writing to high schoolers back in the days when dinosaurs roamed the earth. Surely, I could help my elementary-age granddaughters with reading.  

When I arrived, it was fun to get sweet hugs from little girls. Then I asked for a tour of the house. It was so satisfying to see the new floors and carpet. My daughter had her dad enlarge the kitchen island to include an overhang for more seating and a built-in beverage fridge. Also, at her request, he built a wainscoting around the living area. We all loved the way it lit up the room.

But before we embarked on reading projects, I called the girls over and searched through their pockets. Then I checked their feet and hair, pretending to look for something. They giggled and loved it, especially when I squeezed in a tickle or two. When they wanted to know what I was looking for, I told them we needed to find their WANT-TO buttons. Their giggles helped pave the way for more enjoyable learning.    

Nine-year-old Annabelle started her project with a shoebox and Legos. Actually, she was far more interested in the project than in reading. Glancing through her book, I understood why. Reading the words was easy, but the old-school writing style was not. Mom appreciated the second opinion.  

Then Mamaw helped Ria as she inched through her story. I explained that words have a rhythm. All she really needed was practice—she had the basics down—but it took a while and she’d lose interest. I could relate, but reading is a skill people use all their lives. When Ria finished the book—with a little prodding from Mamaw—she was quite proud of herself. And gained the confidence she needed for future success. So important.

We especially appreciated it when Ria approached her reading project with enthusiasm the next morning. I suggested she cut up an old towel like the character in the book, and she was all for it. During breakfast, she sat on the floor by the table with a sharp pair of scissors and trimmed the towel. Everyone had to step around her several times, and her mom and older sister reminded her NOT to cut the towel in half. She persisted and cut until her little fingers hurt, but she loved the end result—a tattered towel with lots of jagged holes.    

As much as I wanted to accompany them to the Farmer’s Market, I headed back to Victoria about mid-morning. Work awaited me, and if I waited too long, I wouldn’t do it. So I turned on my want-to button and got busy. I can’t say I sped through anything, but I accomplished my writing-related goal for the day.  

Where is your want-to button? The apostle Paul said he wanted to do what was right, but he couldn’t. He said he wanted to do what was good, but he didn’t. (Romans 7: 15-16, NLT) When he said those things, he was referring to the sin nature that lives inside us all. But when we’re in Christ, He frees us from the power of sin so we can follow our spirit nature.

That useful knowledge can apply to anything—reading, repairing a home, or being freed from the things that want to destroy our lives. It’s a matter of turning on our want-to button to live God’s way.

Where is your want-to button?           

Book Launch & Beach Days

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A Different Perspective/ The Victoria Advocate

I’m preparing a book launch for my debut novel, Countin’ On Jesse. What’s a book launch? In marketing lingo, it’s a joint effort with others to create anticipation for the day of publication on September 12th. If a book were a store or a restaurant, release day would be the grand opening. A strong start is a helpful tool because there are so many new books on the market. And strangely enough, word of mouth is still the best way to spread the word about books.  

I contracted with my favorite marketing company for a DIY Book Launch program. The last couple of weeks, I’ve created an application for launch team members, made a private Facebook group page, written and scheduled emails to send, and now I’m working on social media posts. Lots going on before anyone signs up to help.

How does someone help with a book launch? One task includes reading the book before the publication date and posting a review on Amazon and other bookish sites. Many people shun writing reviews because it harkens us back to old-school book reports. Nope. Authors care about stars and 2-3 sentences telling what the reader loves about the book. No summaries, please. The other major task is posting graphics on social media to help pass the word.     

During this busy time, we kept our grandsons over the weekend. I made sure their Ipads stayed charged to incentivize downtime. We watched Christmas movies and built a lot of Jenga towers. But what helped keep attitudes in check best on a ferociously hot Saturday was looking forward to a trip to the beach. We drove to Port Aransas around mid-afternoon. The boys loved the ferry. However, people and vehicles crowded the jetties, so we decided to try a different access road. But when we drove away from the sand and water, our grandsons despaired—loudly, until I assured them we would find a less congested area and the perfect place to park. I emphasized they would get to swim in the ocean, play in the sand, and try out the boogie board. They perked up, happy that nothing was going to derail our plans.

We did just that. The boys had a super time playing in the water. My husband and I sat in chairs under the shady tarp and monitored them. I didn’t care for the undertow, but we’d recenter the little guys every so often, so it was manageable. Late afternoon was a pleasant time of day, the temps were down, and cool air breezed off the water. After trying out the boogie board, the boys enjoyed burying each other in the wet sand and building quicksand castles.

Once we packed up, we headed to DQ for supper and ice cream. The boys were excited and chatty. Even the drive home was fun, if not a little spooky, with it being pitch dark. It was so late, once we arrived at home, I let them change into pajamas and tumble into bed, sand and all.

The next morning, Dave vacuumed sand off our vinyl floors, and I dried wet swimsuits and towels while the boy got ready for church. The previous day’s fun comforted us, and the boys stayed cheerful.    

Sometimes, the extra fuss is worth it. Whether it’s a book launch or a beach day, our souls need the comfort these efforts bring, even if it takes a lot of planning.

*If you would like to know more about the book launch for Countin’ On Jesse, shoot me an email at marypatjohns@gmail.com.   

Which way do you tilt?

by

Victoria Advocate, A Different Perspective

My publisher/editor, Linda Fulkerson, on the left and me.

“Mamaw, you tilt,” my seven-year-old grandson said matter-of-factly.

Yes, I thought with chagrin. Hip replacement recovery has been excellent, even if my gait is lopsided sometimes. I loved the quaint way he expressed his concern, even if it wasn’t exactly what I wanted to hear since I was leaving for Hannibal, Missouri, for a writing conference the next day. The trip included driving to San Antonio to catch a flight, then changing planes at DFW. Upon arrival in Springfield, Illinois, the capitol of “Lincoln Land,” I rented a car and drove to Hannibal, the home of Mark Twain.

The writing conference, officially known as ScriveCon, is a place where authors gather to learn their craft—a continual process—and gain new marketing tools. Author Kim Vogel Sawyer was one of our keynote speakers. As of this month, she’ll have sixty books published. Before Covid, she spoke at a local writer’s club in San Antonio. Her talk communicated just the words I needed to hear as a newbie struggling to write fiction. My favorite takeaway from this conference was during a chat with her in the breakfast buffet area. Kim said with a heartfelt conviction that I had landed in a good place when I contracted with Scrivenings Press.

All of us met face to face with people we’ve only known through FaceBook or Zoom meetings. It was a joy to meet my content editor who recently completed the edit of my first novel. Best of all, she loved my book! Have to admit I was nervous about that one. There were four of us from Texas. We stuck together, being from the same state, but more for the thrill of getting to know each other. One gal and I clicked so well, we spent over two hours brainstorming through plot intricacies in our respective books. It was a God-thing. We had never met but acted like old friends who had been doing it together for years. Strange, but wonderful. On the plane, I scribbled four pages of notes so I wouldn’t forget the details of our visit. Prior to the trip, I wasn’t quite willing to admit I had stalled out in the writing process of my current WIP. Since our discussion, however, I feel recharged to write the rest of the story.

The conference attendees ate together, prayed together, bought each other’s books, and inspired one another as friends and fellow authors.  

The long weekend was like feasting with family that you love but don’t see very often. Yet, life intervened as we returned to our homes and offices. One fellow writer had a flat tire, and my roomie had an encounter with a wild turkey. It hit the side mirror of her car so hard it rendered it useless the rest of the way. In truth, she was thankful to make her destination in Minnesota, considering a snowstorm was in her path.

  I drove back to Springfield to catch my flight, mesmerized by the Illinois/Missouri scenery. A tingle of excitement coursed up my spine when I crossed the mighty Mississippi River. Fields of rich farmland, silver silos, and white frame houses dotted the landscape. Evergreen firs, aka, “Christmas trees” grew wild along the highway, much like cactus does in South Texas. In places, they carved the roads out of low-rising bluffs, giving the atmosphere an eerie cave-like feeling. I wondered if Tom Sawyer was watching.

Driving to Victoria from San Antonio, I thoroughly enjoyed the multitudes of colorful wildflowers and gnarly mesquites. I even appreciated the cattle—all reminders I was finally back home.  

Illinois and Missouri were great states to visit, but my grandson was absolutely correct. I tilt—toward Texas.

Which way do you tilt?              

Parrot Talk versus Edification

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Amazon Parrot

Once my brother and I left home for good—we were in and out for a few years—my mom decided she needed a parrot. Maybe she missed all the noise my brother and I generated, or maybe she just wanted to try something new. For whatever reason, she became the proud owner of an Amazon green parrot.  

Julio became her baby, and she taught him how to talk. Under her tutelage, he gained an extensive vocabulary—for a parrot. She spoke to him all the time and played tapes for him when she left the house. Eventually, Julio returned the favor.

It was impressive, but he never made any sense. He was only capable of repeating what he heard. He would string words together in between bird noises and cackles, but they were random and undiscerning. Our fine feathered friend would sing and talk for attention or to be social.  

 One time a friend and I visited Mom. As we chatted at the kitchen table, my friend’s brow pinched, and she said almost in a whisper, “I could have sworn that bird asked if I wanted some apple.” I assured her that was what he said. Apple was one of his favorites, and Mama would often ask, “Want some apple?” On the other hand, Mama would also ask, “Wanna go to bed?” when she covered Julio’s cage with a towel for the night. It bothered her quite a bit that he might repeat that particular phrase when a repairman came to the house. But my favorite was when he would sing. Daddy, a die-hard country-western fan, would  greet Mother and sing in a high falsetto, “Hey, hey, good lookin’.” Pretty soon, the bird sang it too. Daddy never had much to do with the bird, but his sole contribution caused hilarious moments.

However, for all his charm and accomplishments, Julio had his favorite people. I wasn’t one of them. I sounded like Mother, but he’d realize I wasn’t her when I got closer and get mad. Julio bit me twice that I can remember, once on my index finger, because he didn’t warm up to my friendly intentions. Another time, I was barefooted and had my feet wrapped around the legs of a chair. Julio was out of his cage, taking a stroll. He spotted my unprotected toe and clamped down hard. We had quite the squabble over that one. It didn’t surprise me much when a vet told Mom Julio should have been Julia, as “he” was female. That explained a lot.   

Even though Mama loved that bird, they can live a frightfully long time. She eventually took him to a bird farm where we hoped he would sing and talk to his caretakers. The hours of pleasure he brought us needed to continue, even if it wasn’t at Mom’s house. Julio’s nonsense brought a lot of smiles. It was like a baby learning to talk and getting things all mixed up. But when he got mad, the same mouth that made us laugh could bite and bring tears.  

It’s not so different with us. With our words, we can express kindness, thoughtfulness, and love. Or we can say ugly, critical comments and hurt people. The Apostle Paul said, “Let no unwholesome word proceed from our mouths, but only such words good for edification (building each other up) according to the need of the moment so that it will give grace to those who hear.” (Ephesians 4:29)

We’re in a better position than Julio. Parrots can only repeat words they hear, whereas we’re capable of thought. God gave us more than a bird brain, but if we don’t use it for good, we’re going to sound like Julio—

            “I love you, mama, darlin’—hey, hey, good-lookin’—apple.”