Archive by Author

Laughing My Head Off

24 Jun

On the Porch

Onisha Ellis

I just finished laughing my head off. Rebekah and I were talking about how leaving the reader   hanging is a good business plan.  Her new release, “Julianne”, unlike “Summer Storms” ties up all the   loose ends, but so many of her beta readers want to know more about Peter the painter. I would like to see him have his own book. Her response is what left me laughing.

“I can’t believe how many people like Peter. I really just threw him into the book as filler, I thought when I was writing him that it was the worst writing I had ever done. I actually wrote him when I was on the ship’s verandah and you said I was sleep writing.”

 

I continued to laugh at how befuddled she was with Peter’s popularity.

“Really, I need to know what people find so appealing in him.

I tried to explain why I found him interesting but she still didn’t get it. The whole conversation confirmed to me that I was right and my English teachers were wrong. (Take THAT Mrs. Fritch) I had many arguments with them about what Hemingway or Steinbeck meant in their books or what a poet was trying to say. They were dead, how did the teacher KNOW my thoughts weren’t correct. I surmise a lot of authors would be like Rebekah and shocked at reader’s take on their work.

So what about you? Do you have a character that demands to step out of the background and have it’s own story?

“Julianne” by Rebekah Lyn is available on Kindle  and paperback at Amazon.com

“Sumer Storms is available at Amazon and Barnes and Noble for eBook  and paperback. Also available at www.bzhercules.com

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Speak Up Saturday- The Robin Diaries Part 2

23 Jun
Robin nest

Robin nest (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The Robin Diaries

 Patricia Franklin

I keep a watch out my kitchen window, but have only seen the robins in the early mornings flying in and out. I am puzzled because when I walk by the nest it is empty. They have a nice big deep nest, so maybe the eggs are in the bottom where they will stay warm without the parents. Or maybe she is hunkered down inside there too. Or maybe, I am thinking, she might be one of these modern mothers who can leave the nest during the day because she designed it so she doesn’t have to be there to sit on it all the time, but can be out running around like the modern mothers of today.

I know the dove surprised me last year with two beautiful babies one morning when they were fully grown. She sat on top of the nest so I could not see them. I wonder what will happen with the robins. My biggest fear is the neighbor’s big black cat that has caught some birds in my backyard before, will come after them. Maybe Frank will have to build a fence around the bush. I don’t think that will happen because he is not going to let a hay crop grow until they hatch as he did last year. He is cutting the lawn right now, so I better get out and guard my little flock while I can.

1 Corinthians 16:13

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20 Jun

This has been a busy week. We returned home from vacation and now we are spending time with the grandchildren. So for my post today, I am sharing Rebekah Lyn’s latest from RebekahLynsKitchen. It is a good story of how she came to write and publish her latest nove,”Julianne”

Rebekah Lyn's Kitchen

Yesterday was the digital release of my second novel, Julianne.  I have been writing most of my life.  I was the kid in school who new book coverdidn’t cringe when a term paper was assigned; I relished the idea and delved into my research.  However, when it came to my personal stories, I had a problem with actually finishing them.  Julianne was one of those stories.  I started it in 2003, got about halfway through and then life got in the way.  I let it drop by the wayside.  Six years later I picked it back up, determined to actually complete one novel.  The day I wrote the last sentence was one of the proudest moments of my life.  I had finally completed a full novel.  I then promptly put it away and moved on to another story.

When I managed to complete and publish Summer Storms in two years, I…

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Our First Water Skiing Experience

20 Jun

 

A Slice of LIfe

Bill Lites 

Being raised in the southwest my wife and I didn’t have the opportunity to learn how to water ski, so when my company picnic was held at a central Florida lake we were ready and willing to give it a try.

I went first, and had the hardest time getting up out of the water.  Then when I did manage to hold onto the rope long enough to be pulled out of the water onto the skis, I could only stay up a few feet before I was down again.  After several tries, and a lot of laughter from the shore, I finally was able to make a trip around the small lake with only three stops and restarts.

Now it was my wife’s turn.  She decided to make her start from the end of the small dock.  After getting her skis on, she sat down on the edge of the dock, placed her skis on top of the water and was handed the rope.  The boat lined up and eased out to take up the slack.  I was just sure the boat would pull her off the dock, and with a big splash, her first attempt at water skiing would be over.  Well, boy was I wrong!  That boat driver was great.  As the rope tightened, he smoothly increased speed and my wife was pulled upright, off the dock, and there she went, in near perfect form.  I couldn’t believe it.  She was still up, and they were picking up more speed.

I wouldn’t have believed what happened next if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.  She stayed up around the entire lake, and as they headed back toward us, the boat driver gave her a signal and she let go of the rope.

Now as she slowed, approaching the shoreline, she kept her balance, skied right up on the beach, came to a stop, stepped out of the skis and said, “Nothing to it.”  I was totally undone.  I said “oh yea, let me see you do that again.”  She stuck her nose up in the air and haughtily said, “Why should I do it again when I did it perfect the first time?”

Later she told me her secret. Besides having the best boat driver on the block, she had asked everyone, who knew how to water ski, for tips and advice. Why should she ever do it again? It could be disastrous next time because after all it was only beginner’s luck.

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Announcing the Launch of Julianne- Beautiful Voice

19 Jun

Today is so exciting for those of us at Oldthingsrnew. Rebekah Lyn’s new book, Julianne is launching today. I will post her first five-star review, but first, my thoughts.

Julianne did not start out for me as a favorite character. If you have raised a teenager, you will feel  frustrated and want to tell Julianne to just “get over it.” But bear with her, because God is faithful and Rebekah shows how God  can help even the whiniest girl to grow up.

Now here is the Amazon and Goodreads review:

 Beautiful Voice! June 18, 2012
Format:Kindle Edition
Rebekah Lyn has a beautiful voice in each of her stories. Her latest, Julianne, is an excellent exploration of the conflict that young professionals experience in contemporary society. They fall into many traps when dating and finding careers. Julianne illustrates how we take many wrong turns in life, but can find our way through love, trust, and spirituality. This Christian romance novel by the author of Summer Storms contains characters that are clearly defined and relevant to the storyline and a plot that is romantic without being sappy. The references to Christianity are not preachy, but instead show the effects of sound decision-making and personal choices that young adults create in their lives, making this novel appealing to all readers, from YA up to older generations of adults.
If you would like to read Julianne, visit Rebekah Lyn’s Amazon author page. Julianne will be available in paperback  June 30, 2012.
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The Bridge and I

18 Jun

In my last post, Loving My Small Town, I chatted about small town life. The new “big” thing her in our town is walking the bridge. People do it all day and even into the night-time. Our friend DiVoran’s family did it as a Father’s Day outing and is sharing her experience today

My Take

DiVoran Lites

One of the entertainments for our family Father’s Day celebration was to walk the bridge. Now I just heard about this new small-community attraction last spring and I had not yet experienced it. What’s the big deal about walking across the new bridge, I thought. Bill and I walked across the old one once. We passed the bridge tender who was doing his homework while waiting to open and close the bridge for a good-sized or tall-masted boat. No big deal.

I did not, however, want to be left out of a community phenom and I definitely did not want to miss a family outing, so I got my sun-hat and my walking shoes and we headed for the river in two cars. Bill didn’t get to go because of his barking dogs. (That’s an old saying for sore feet.)

Even though it was June and supposedly hot weather, a steady, cool wind blew puffy white clouds in an otherwise clear blue sky. First, I walked with my daughter-in-law and we had a chance to talk for the first time in quite a while. We were the tail of a seven person two-by two queue with the seventh, our daughter’s husband, in the lead. Now arches rise high enough that any boat allowed on the river can go under, so we tackled the incline then practically danced down the other side.  On the way, back I walked with my son and W. D. was telling me something about the birds when suddenly I imagined a tribe of natives traveling to their next camp.

I saw the heavily laden travois, smelled the pemmican (does pemmican have an aroma?) and thought of papooses being transferred on their mother’s backs. I could hear the rattle and swish of a people on the move. Everyone in the tribe had a special job and unique gifting. There was the strider ahead, there was the philosopher/ negotiator\explainer who had an equal say in tribe politics and then there were the tall, strong brave and his sister the Indian princess. We had two matrons who worked harder than anyone ought to have to work to help keep everybody clean and fed, and then there was the old crone, which was of course a wanna-be– me. There on the bridge, I knew the ancient joy of belonging that comes mostly in families, no matter how large or how small, how functional or how dysfunctional. Often the people in these families aren’t related by blood, but still by right of love, cooperation, and understanding, they belong to each other.

So that’s what the bridge is all about. I thought. It’s about movement, connection, family, and an airy beauty that represents constant crossovers, with people who care, from one part of life to another.

“God places the solitary in families and gives the desolate a home in which to dwell.” Psalm 68:6

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Making Memories Side By Side

17 Jun

I wasn’t planning to post anything about Father’s Day until I came across this story written by Jacob Leitzinger. He is eighteen years old, and attends Stetson University in DeLand. He is a swimmer, a bass singer, has his own motorcycle and loves to ride. He has a girlfriend who lives in South Carolina, and he is interested in all aspects of computer technology. Jacob believes in telling the truth and when he does, people sometimes take it as hilariously funny. Hmm, maybe that’s worth a try.

Oyster Shells 

There was a strange feeling in the air when I awoke. It was something I hadn’t felt in quite a while, and I almost missed it. Luckily, the feeling was brought to my attention the moment I opened my eyes, and stayed there over the course of the next few hours: It was early. It was a couple of weeks into summer vacation, and I had promised my uncle I would help him lay oyster mats in the river. I had done this once before of course, for my Eagle Scout project, so it made sense that he would ask for my assistance. I got out of bed, and got ready for a day with my uncle, my dad, UCF alumni and a whole bunch of oyster shells. My uncle, my father and I arrived early to map out the route to the deployment area and mentally prepare ourselves for the day ahead. People trickled in and small conversations sprung up and thrived until it was time to head out. We hopped on the boats and rode in style to the deployment area. Once there, it was long hours of (fun) repetitive work. In order to attract oysters, you first need oyster shells. I know that seems a little backwards, but bear with me. The shells of oysters release enzymes that attract oyster larvae. The larvae then cement themselves to the other oysters, creating the reef. Our job is to start the process. We begin with gridded mats with oyster shells zip tied on. We take these mats, and zip tie circular weights onto the corners to keep them underwater. Easy! The day passed quickly, with fun conversations and a tasty lunch to keep things interesting. At the end of the day, it was easy to tell the difference we had made. As you looked across the water, you could see the expanse of mats that were just layered. Then, with a snack and a smile, we packed up and headed back to our cars, content in our help to the environment.

The reason I chose to share this story on Father’s Day is because it demonstrates the best of the father-son relationship, making memories side by side.

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Loving the Small Town Life

14 Jun

On the Porch

Onisha Ellis

Is there any place better to live than in a small town? I know the shopping and entertainment leave a lot to be desired but what are they compared to kindness, friendship and a sense of community

Wednesday I started my day in a dental office waiting on Rebekah to have her stitches removed. Also waiting was a gentleman and within ten minutes we had covered growing up in Orlando and Sanford, how we came to live in this town, how Disney ruined Orlando, riding bikes all day as kids and no one worried, how hot Florida can be in July and finally, bonfires on the beach and how sad we are it is no longer allowed. I am sure we could have covered much more, but Rebekah was finished and we moved on.

Next we visited my former work place. I lost track of the conversation streams that were addressed in fifteen minutes but Mac iOS6 was an animated discussion as well as western vs. eastern Caribbean cruise preferences and why, Twinning’s new cold brew peach tea, Blackberry tea and porcelain tile vs. laminate flooring if you have a cat that chooses not to use the litter box.

Our final stop was at Teapots n Treasures, a brand new teahouse in our “downtown”. If you live in a small town, you understand the quotation marks. I was very excited to visit Teapots n Treasures because “taking tea” has become my new obsession and to my knowledge, in recent memory we have never had anything like it. No sooner had we settled into our cozy tea nook than I see my dear friend, Wanda and her friend being seated for lunch. With a smile and a wave, she comes into our nook bringing her friend.  In the course of introductions, it was discovered Wanda’s friend had read Rebekah’s book, Summer Storms. Rebekah was so pleased to meet a new reader face to face. They invited us to join them after our tea was done and we did. We picked up our teapot and cups, told the owner we were socializing, ignored the people giving us strange looks and made our way to their tea nook. What fun we had. Rebekah talked book stuff, I caught up on friend news. Along with the chitchat we also discussed a young family’s loss of their precious newborn girl. We are all praying for them as they grieve.  We were so blessed by our unexpected opportunity to visit with Wanda, Jamie and Joan. Wanda would call it a Divine Appointment.

I have never lived in a truly large city. What is it like?

Galatians 5:22-23

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Fishing on the Pecos River

13 Jun

A Slice of Life

By Bill Lites

I grew up in a Southwest family of hunters and outdoorsmen.  Every winter it was the deer season hunt and every summer it was fishing in New Mexico’s rivers and lakes.  As a teenager, I really enjoyed getting away from town and out into Nature for one of our family hunting/camping trips.

This particular trip was a fishing trip in the mountains along the Pecos River.  My dad and I were working our way upstream, fishing as we went.  We had caught several nice Rainbow Trout and had them on our stringer, moving them in the water as we progressed from one likely fishing spot to another.

 

 

 

 

 

We finally came upon a bend in the river that flowed around a huge group of rocks, causing a nice eddy pool as the water coursed around the rocks.  It was a perfect spot to let my bait drift around the bend with the current into the eddy pool.

  I climbed up on one of the rocks and cast my bait into the upstream current, letting it drift around the bend.  Sure enough, I got a strike about half way around the bend, but didn’t hook the fish.  I repeated the process several times with the same results.  This must be a wise fish, I thought, but I can be patient, and tried again.

Finally, on about the seventh try I hooked that wise old Trout, and boy was he a nice one.  My attention had been so focused on catching that fish and getting him in hand that it wasn’t until I turned and started to jump down, that I saw a snake right where I was going to land.

Our fish stringer was at the edge of the water, and the snake had moved in and was trying to figure how he could get one of the fish in his mouth.  With my last touch of my leap from the rock, I catapulted myself as far over that snake as I could.  On the way down, I must have let go of my rod and the fish I had just caught, because when I hit the ground I instantly picked up a rock and bashed the snake in the head.  I pounded him with several more rocks, until I was sure he was dead, before I was able to breathe.

Now I can handle coming upon a snake if it is a few feet away and not a surprise.  But, because I was traumatized by a snake bite as a six year old,

and now, to be almost in mid-air and realize that you are going to land right on top of “What Kind of Snake?”   That was too much for my mind to deal with in the time available.  It was probably a harmless water snake hoping to enjoy a free meal, but that’s not what my mind saw while I was on my way down.  I learned from this to not be distracted, better to keep your mind on the task at hand.

Psalm 116:6

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The Razzle-Dazzle Snake Mover

11 Jun


My Take

DiVoran Lites

I pull the chenille bedspread up to make the bed and there’s a baby black snake the size of a shoelace lying on the floor. When the light hits him, he wiggles to the baseboard and tries to go under the wall-to-wall carpet. Thank you rug man for making it tight.  What do I do now? There are two things I know I will not do. I will not touch him and I will not kill him. I hear one of our cats meowing for her breakfast from the closed studio. Another thing I will not do is let the cats take care of the problem, as much as they would love to. That would end in death for the small creature that is already running for his life. I send up a quick request for guidance. Oh yes, maybe I can herd him out the back door with my razzle dazzle, the long-handled duster Aunt Judy brought me from Colorado all those years ago. It is made of soft fuzzy fibers.

We’ve zigzagged about two feet when he slips under the door of an adjacent closet where I keep the vacuum cleaner. I stand before the door my heart pounding like a tom-tom. What shall I do now?

I’ll brush him out of the closet and we’ll be on our way to the back door. It’s only a few yards. I move the vacuums out, no snake. I reach down for a tissue box in which I’m storing plant sticks. There he is. I jump back a bit. He makes a break. Fast as a flash, he’s under a paper grocery bag we’ve made into a hide-away for the cats to play in. One cat is still meowing, “Let me in.”

I breathe deeply, and hold for the count of seven. I need Bill, but he’s still asleep. Oh, well, it’s almost time for him to get up. I knock on his door. “Will you help me? There’s a little snake in the house.” I go back to my post. “I’m in here,” I call out. “He’s under there.”

Bill has an extension to pick things up with if you can’t bend over. He goes to the studio to get it. Lily, still meowing dashes in. I wave the razzle-dazzle in her path. She brakes and skids to a halt, her claws scrambling on the kitchen vinyl. The other cat peeks around the corner. Bill picks them up one by one and puts them out as he goes for the extension.

We lift the sack and unveil the pitiful, rumpled shoestring in the corner near the built-in bookcase. Bill reaches out and carefully lifts the snake in the extension. The snake wiggles and drops to the floor. While he is still disoriented Bill secures him again and carries him out the front door in the soft rubber grippers. He sets him down in the flowerbed. Mission accomplished.

Matthew 6:33-34

English: Line art drawing of a black snake.

English: Line art drawing of a black snake. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

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