Hello everyone,
Yesterday I was eating a nectarine, my all time favorite food, and got to thinking—which is always dangerous. I’d love to be able to write a passage where I described a nectarine so well that the readers could see it, feel it, smell it, taste it, hear themselves bite into it…
So are you up to the challenge? Can you write a passage about your favorite food in a way that readers could swear they had just tasted a delicious bite?
I’m not promising, but I’ll try.
Feel free to talk about your favorite food, why it’s your favorite and all.
Much Joy, Peace, and Love
Deatri
Monday, July 25, 2005
Sunday, July 17, 2005
That’s Not How I Saw Them
Hello Everyone,
This week's topic is one many authors will be able to identify with. Imagine you’ve just received your content edit from your editor or notes from your agent and she/he has told you that your protagonist must be taller, darker, have different eye color… Okay you could handle that. How about a name change? Okay, you can handle that. How about if he/she says your African-American protagonist needs to be white? How about if he/she says to change the culture of the protagonist?
Yep, it happens. How would you handle it? I’m an author and an editor, thus have been on both sides of this issue. I’m interested to hear your thoughts.
Much Joy, Peace, and Love
Deatri
This week's topic is one many authors will be able to identify with. Imagine you’ve just received your content edit from your editor or notes from your agent and she/he has told you that your protagonist must be taller, darker, have different eye color… Okay you could handle that. How about a name change? Okay, you can handle that. How about if he/she says your African-American protagonist needs to be white? How about if he/she says to change the culture of the protagonist?
Yep, it happens. How would you handle it? I’m an author and an editor, thus have been on both sides of this issue. I’m interested to hear your thoughts.
Much Joy, Peace, and Love
Deatri
Sunday, July 10, 2005
First Memory
What is your first memory? Mine is from when I was three. The memory I’m about to write was verified. Well most of it was anyway. I had to fill in a few blanks.
My dad loves to fish. I remember him casting his line in the lake, then sitting beside me on a large slab of cement, which I later learned had been placed there for fishermen. I had my own line to watch, but took in the tree lined scenery. To the right of the slab was grass. And in the grass was this oval, greenish-brown rock with the neatest square design on it. Only three years old at the time, I can’t remember if I recognized the rock as an oval and the design as squares, but that’s what I see in my minds eyes.
Daddy said something to me that I don’t remember. What I do remember is the rock moved! I tugged Daddy’s arm and pointed at the rock, which was headed toward the water. Not getting the response I wanted, I decided to take matters into my own hands.
I hopped up and ran for the rock. Daddy called me back, but do you think I listened? Heck no! I was three and had never seen a walking rock before. The rock was almost in my grasp when it tipped into the water, and I suddenly I hovered over the ground. Next thing you know, the rock got away.
Floating in the air, I couldn’t control what direction I went in. Though my head remained pointed at the lake, watching my rock sink, my body turned away from the lake. Upset my find had gotten away, I looked to see what was making me float. I’d never been able to float before. Maybe losing the rock wasn’t so bad, seeing on how I could now float, maybe even fly like a bird.
Accepting I wouldn’t have a walking rock but could float, I faced the same direction as my body. Daddy had a frown on his face and me by the back of my overalls. Even at three, I knew the look on his face was not happy. To help fix his face, I quickly told him about the walking rock. The way I saw it, he had super long arms, and if I said the magic word—please—he would reach to the bottom of the lake and get the rock for me.
Well, he didn’t reach to the bottom of the lake. Instead, he laughed, hugged me and then tied the strap of my overalls to one of the belt hoops of his pants so we could continue fishing.
That’s it. By the way, the rock was a turtle.
Have a happy trip down memory lane.
Much Joy, Peace, and Love
Deatri
My dad loves to fish. I remember him casting his line in the lake, then sitting beside me on a large slab of cement, which I later learned had been placed there for fishermen. I had my own line to watch, but took in the tree lined scenery. To the right of the slab was grass. And in the grass was this oval, greenish-brown rock with the neatest square design on it. Only three years old at the time, I can’t remember if I recognized the rock as an oval and the design as squares, but that’s what I see in my minds eyes.
Daddy said something to me that I don’t remember. What I do remember is the rock moved! I tugged Daddy’s arm and pointed at the rock, which was headed toward the water. Not getting the response I wanted, I decided to take matters into my own hands.
I hopped up and ran for the rock. Daddy called me back, but do you think I listened? Heck no! I was three and had never seen a walking rock before. The rock was almost in my grasp when it tipped into the water, and I suddenly I hovered over the ground. Next thing you know, the rock got away.
Floating in the air, I couldn’t control what direction I went in. Though my head remained pointed at the lake, watching my rock sink, my body turned away from the lake. Upset my find had gotten away, I looked to see what was making me float. I’d never been able to float before. Maybe losing the rock wasn’t so bad, seeing on how I could now float, maybe even fly like a bird.
Accepting I wouldn’t have a walking rock but could float, I faced the same direction as my body. Daddy had a frown on his face and me by the back of my overalls. Even at three, I knew the look on his face was not happy. To help fix his face, I quickly told him about the walking rock. The way I saw it, he had super long arms, and if I said the magic word—please—he would reach to the bottom of the lake and get the rock for me.
Well, he didn’t reach to the bottom of the lake. Instead, he laughed, hugged me and then tied the strap of my overalls to one of the belt hoops of his pants so we could continue fishing.
That’s it. By the way, the rock was a turtle.
Have a happy trip down memory lane.
Much Joy, Peace, and Love
Deatri
Thursday, July 07, 2005
YIKES!!! I can't believe I'm a BLOGGER!!!
Hello Everyone,
Yeah I did it. I’ve turned into one of the sheep that are aimlessly following the crowd of bloggers. SMILE. Just kidding.
For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Deatri King-Bey a mother of teens, wife of 18 years to a great man—yes they do exists, content editor and author. Thus there’s no telling what types of entries you’ll find in my blogspot. This should be fun.
My debut novel, Caught Up, is due for release in February 2006. Presently I’m in the editing process and watching as my cover is created. Boy do I have some stories to share. Check out my website at http://www.deewrites.com/. Don’t forget to sign the guest book.
My eldest child is starting her senior year in high school, and my baby is starting her freshman year. All I can say is this will be one year filled with DRAMA. Hmmm, this spot may become therapy (wink).
Okay, I just wanted to say hi.
Much Joy Peace and Love
Deatri
Yeah I did it. I’ve turned into one of the sheep that are aimlessly following the crowd of bloggers. SMILE. Just kidding.
For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Deatri King-Bey a mother of teens, wife of 18 years to a great man—yes they do exists, content editor and author. Thus there’s no telling what types of entries you’ll find in my blogspot. This should be fun.
My debut novel, Caught Up, is due for release in February 2006. Presently I’m in the editing process and watching as my cover is created. Boy do I have some stories to share. Check out my website at http://www.deewrites.com/. Don’t forget to sign the guest book.
My eldest child is starting her senior year in high school, and my baby is starting her freshman year. All I can say is this will be one year filled with DRAMA. Hmmm, this spot may become therapy (wink).
Okay, I just wanted to say hi.
Much Joy Peace and Love
Deatri
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