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The Next Big Thing

7 Feb

My Take

DiVoran Lites

DiVoran Lites

Hello, my name is Elaine Donovan. Because I am the main character in DiVoran’s book, Sacred Spring, people may think of me as a figment of DiVoran’s imagination. That’s okay, but DiVoran thinks of me as a real person, so if you wish, you may think of me that way too. She asked me to answer ten questions about writing my book.

First, we’d like to thank Rebekah Lyn for tagging us in this blog hop. Rebekah Lyn is a successful writer who has helped, supported, and encouraged DiVoran immeasurably as well as an excellent all-round writer and characterist, in her own right. Here’s where you will find Rebekah and her characters.

Question 1: Where did the idea for this book come from?

DiVoran and I first met when she, her husband, and two children started camping at Deleon Springs near Deland, Florida. It soon became their favorite place and when they wandered the grounds, they were enchanted by the history embodied here. We had the old hanging oak; where legend has it several people were hanged during the Civil War. There was the pavilion where tea dances were held in the 20s and 30s. An underwater passage allowed visitors to see below the surface through glass, and the old mill that had been there for a over a century and a half was still present and remains to this day.

Next Big Thing

The campground was run down and was slated to be sold for a subdivision to be built there. DiVoran couldn’t stand the thought of that so she dealt with it the way she deals with everything, using her imagination. That was when Granddad, Scotty, and I came to help. Hank and Raker came along too, but at the time we didn’t know whether they’d end up helping us or destroying all our dreams.

What genre does the book fall under?

Genres are such convenient things, are they not? Ours is considered either Inspirational Romantic fiction or Christian Romantic Fiction. I can tell you it has plenty of love in it, along with the conflict we got into trying to save the spring.

Which Actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

It would be impossible for either of us to answer that question at this time as I have never seen a movie or watched T. V. You see I’ve been too busy and poor to go to a show and we don’t have a T. V. because again we just wouldn’t have time or the inclination to watch it. I did go to college, though, and I wondered how my roommate and her friends could idolize the actors on the screen. This is not to say we would be averse to having a movie made of the book. DiVoran has a beautiful granddaughter she says looks just like me, tall and slender with long golden/red hair whose eyes have a smiling shape that won her the title of Miss photogenic when she was a baby. We would choose her tall handsome grandson to play my cousin Nick in Sacred Spring and in its sequel Living Spring. Both college age grandchildren have acting experience, so it would not be outside of the realms of possibility for them to star in the movie. The book has been described as highly cinematographic—well, for us nothing is impossible.

What is a one-sentence synopsis of your book?

Unless Elaine Donovan can find a way to save it, Sacred Spring Campground will soon be sold for a subdivision, which means a piece of Real Florida history and habitat will vanish forever.

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

The book is self, or indie (for independently) published as will the others that come after it in the Florida Springs Trilogy.

How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

DiVoran won’t tell me how long it took her, sorry. It must have taken either a very long time or a very short time, but I happen to know she didn’t write it in a month as Rebekah Lyn did one of hers.

What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

DiVoran won’t mind if I tell you this: she’s an old-fashioned girl, so you may not know the authors she loves and tries to emulate, even though in some circles they are considered classics. Because her themes are family and love, as well as nature, her books might remind you of those by Gene Stratton Porter, Pearl S. Buck, Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings, and D. E. Stevenson. She has also followed the writings of John Steinbeck and is much enamored of the Bible.

Who or what inspired you to write this book?

I can say this: We believe the Holy Spirit inspired us to get together and write this book. He has been with us all the way through, guiding and “musing” through us. It has been, on one hand, a somewhat stressful experience, because it is our first book, but on the other hand, a most exciting one, because it was through this book and the leading of the Spirit that DiVoran discovered her true calling in life. Without knowing and living in that she feels she would only be half a person. Of course without it, I would never have been created, so we are both thankful to the One who is our Lord and inspirer.

What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?

I can answer this best by suggesting you read the reviews for the Kindle version of Sacred Spring on Amazon. Just look up Sacred Spring, by DiVoran Lites. That will give you an idea of what people are saying about the book. I’ll give you a hint, DiVoran is thrilled with the reception it has received. Everyone wants to know what happens next. That question will be answered in the next book, Living Spring, but more questions will arise, and you will need to go on to Clear Spring in order to get the whole story. DiVoran is also a painter and, because they all take place in gorgeous places that she loves, has found great joy in painting the covers for all three books.

I’ve been told we need to tag five more authors for The Next Big Thing. Since I am a fictional  character, I don’t know very many people.  I do know Linda Lewis who is an artist, a patron of the arts and a popular blogger. DiVoran reads her blogs and also displays  artwork with her .You can visit her website here: and  her blog: Creative Arts Works Blog

DiVoran’s artwork can be found at Creative Art Works

Sacred Spring is available on Amazon in eBook and Paperback

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Treasure Day

4 Feb

My Take

DiVoran Lites

DiVoran Lites

This morning I spent some time journaling and reading and it got the day off to a magnificent start. The first thing I experienced was the uncondintional love of the Lord. Guess what? He loved you that way too, believe it or not. I had fun drawing a picture of a treasure chest and using glitter in for the gold. Breakfast was delicious even thoug it was the same breakfast I have every day with few exceptions. I had some errands to run and Bill was feeling antsy so he said he’d chauffer me. Here’s what made the day a treasure:

  1. Took a check to the high-school library for a friend who wanted to pay fines and cost of book for a student she doesn’t even know. Fines waived, book inexpensive. Student saved. It was a fluke thing. The student is good about returning books, but this one was lost and gone forever and she didn’t have the money to pay for it so she was no longer allowed to check books out of the high school library.
  2. Stopped at the office supply for a dozen black Pentel Pilot pens, x fine. I know I said I wasn’t going to buy any more pens, but these are my special ones that make thoughts flow.
  3.  Went to the big store for dusting powder just like our daughter bought for her mother-in-law whom she bathes twice a week. Haven’t had any dusting powder for decades. I was looking for the one that was lavender scented, in a beautiful round box, with a puff for under two dollars. We asked the associates, but they couldn’t find it. Bill could. We showed the associate and got a nice little story about how her grandmother insisted she and the other children always use the powder after a shower to keep from getting a rash.
  4.  Also in the big store they had tiny sugar donuts and free coffee. Special treat, but Bill had to bag all the veggies, because my hands were busy. Mouth too.
  5. Also in big store, talked to handicapped red haired, red bearded man buying toys for described tiny black poodle. In agreement that tiny black poodles rule the world and are a terror to big dogs.
  6. Passed a lady with a dog sitting in her cart like a pasha, observing the passing scene. I asked cheerfully not judgementally how the dog gets to come to the store. “Oh, he always comes. He won’t stay home alone.” Very good very quiet Jack Russell. He must be good or stay home alone.
  7. Bought chocolate-covered almonds, and a magazine. Magazine unusual purchase, chocolate covered almonds staple.
  8. Clerk singing and rotating bag carousel, “No more full bags here, we’re done.” Tra-la. She’s so entertaining that we ask if she ever thought of going on the road. She laughs. No, she says, most of the time I’m unaware of playing around. “That’s why we come to your checkout.” Bill says. “Because I’m unaware?” she quips. We laugh.
  9. Bill drops me at the trail. Halfway home, voila, the shiny green metal bench is in place! The man who built and installed it is standing there like a painter with a masterpiece. I ask if the cement holding it is dry. He pokes down through the mulch with his finger. His verdict is…yes. I used quick-setting. I ask if I may I be the first  sit upon it. Yes, again. I perch in the middle of the bench, but alas, there is no one there with a camera to take my picture. Bencher and benchee happy and satisfied with sunny day and good job of trail maintenance.
  10. Waldorf salad for lunch. Apples, celery, walnuts, raisins, mayo, sour cream. Yum.
  11. Unpack small bouquet of brightly colored flowers. I know they’re dyed, but what glowing fuchsias, oranges, greens, and yellows!
  12. What shall I say to make an even dozen paens of gratitude? Oh yes, an invitation to lunch on Friday with dear, good friends. Friday is set to be another treasure day. Thursday too, though I know not what the future may hold, I do know who holds the future.

Matthew 6:33

 

By DiVoran Lites

By DiVoran Lites

 

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A Moment with the Master

28 Jan

My Take

DiVoran Lites

DiVoran Lites

 

A friend of Bill’s invited us to the dedication of the new pipe organ at his church. We went early and waited long. When we finally got into the church, we sat down facing the front wall where some of the organ’s pipes were worked into a beautiful and artistic cross.

The church held 350 people, but we found out later the crowd had swelled to 600 in the foyer and around the aisles and were grateful for the suggestion to arrive early.

One thing we had time to do was to read the excellent program we’d been given. Here are a few of the things we learned about the organ: The pipes we could see were just a sample of the number of pipes behind the wall, 2,197 of them to be exact, each with its own voice. The A. E. Schlueter Pipe Organ Company, pipes are made by hand one at a time, no assembly process there. The organ is assembled at the factory and tested for sound, then disassembled and taken to the church where it is put together so voicers could adjust it for the acoustics of the building.

The organist, Peter Beardsley, who is a wonder in his own right, played. “The Carnival of the Animals,” by Camille Saint-Saens, and several other pieces and we immersed ourselves in the music. We learned from him that if the organ as instrument had a patron saint it would be Bach.

The concert was almost over when one little pipe decided it did not want to stop sounding off. It wasn’t too loud, but no more music could be played while it was stealing the show. Mr. Beardsley rose and the pastor went to the front along with several other people. Everyone looked puzzled and helpless.

Down the aisle from the pew behind us strode a very big man in a black suit who had been introduced to us earlier as A. E. Schlueter, himself. A wave of relief swept over the crowd. He spoke to the puzzled professionals at the front and then came back to his seat. In a moment, the pipe quieted down.

So now, maybe you think the point of this story is to tell you that the master organ maker made everything right. Yes, that’s what I thought at the moment. But just to make a good thought better I wanted to know what the master had done to make it happen. As we filed out past Mr. Schlueter he was greeting people and shaking hands within a foot of us.

Oh please let me ask him a question, I thought, and to my delight and surprise he moved closer to where I was standing and looked right at me. Out of six hundred people, I was to get my answer without having to try to find him and talk to him at some other point, which I probably wouldn’t have done thinking he might be too busy for me.

“Did you do something to fix the organ?” I asked.

“I sent a man up to release the stuck valve,” he answered.

“Oh, the master was here. That’s the theme.” I said with delight. He understood that I was writing even though it looked as if I was just standing in front of him.

“The Lord has a sense of humor,” said Mr. Schlueter. “He likes to keep me humble.” It seemed as if he wanted me especially to tell my readers that, so I have–your own special message, dear reader, from the master.

And your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying: this is the way, walk ye in it, when ye turn to the right hand, and when ye turn to the left.

 Isaiah 30 : 21

Pipe Organ

 

 

 

 

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Morning Song

31 Dec

 

According to Mary Harwell Sayler in her new book Poetry Dictionary for Children and for Fun, an aubade is: “a morning song. Sometimes it’s a love poem. Sometimes it’s a sad song, but ready or not, an aubade greets the dawn.”

Here’s an aubade for today, actually yesterday, because yesterday it was warm, today it’s cold.

Morning Song

Feed cats

Fill water bowls

Make coffee

Let cats out

Let cats in

“Good morning, husband.”

House chilly

Step out the door and into sunshine.

Tropical breeze

Take a walk

Vines in a yard hanging from a line

Purple flowers

A sycamore clatters brown leaves

“Trees of the field shall clap their hands.”*

Fallen leaves skitter, call, “come hither.”

Not yet!

Six-foot sunflowers, yellow duckies round their feet.

Turn back, work to do.

Thank God.

*Isaiah 55:12

Aubade

 

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E is for Enough

24 Dec

My Take

DiVoran Lites

DiVoran Lites

Bill and I are incompatible. The first time I realized it was the morning after the wedding when I got in trouble for squeezing the toothpaste tube from the middle. How was I supposed to know you rolled it up tidily? Right then I decided I was not a roll-up kind of gal. We have used separate toothpaste tubes ever since. We even use different kinds of toothpaste now.

Then there is gasoline. He buys it all because he knows where its cheapest. I ask to buy when the gauge is on E, but he says, oh, you’ve got enough to get you where you’re going and back, and I always do—except there was that one time down in Texas when we were driving a new old car and E meant what it said-empty. I’m grateful we didn’t have to walk as far as we might have had to.

Carrots, now, carrots are something else altogether. In my humble opinion, you can never have too many carrots. I keep canned ones on hand but come on now, they just aren’t the same. “Carrots,” I write on the list. When we go over it he says, “We’ve got enough carrots.” Maybe for you, but not for me.

Time: Bill likes what you call close tolerance. That means you measure something like a door that opens onto the enclosed back porch, then you measure for a fan and put it up and turn it on and when you open the back door and the fan is whirling you can’t see a gap between them. So close tolerance goes for time as well. He doesn’t like to waste it by getting someplace too early, but unfortunately we’ve always been just late enough to embarrass me. Since he’s been retired, however, we’ve been working on it. We calculate what time we have to be there and then count back to when we may need to leave. It works most of the time. If it’s really crucial I don’t answer directly when he says what time do we have to be there. I say we need to leave at 8:30 or whatever I deem respectable. I sometimes say we have to leave at 8:32 and it works. I read about that somewhere. I don’t know why it works. Depending on how desperate I am we can get there just a little bit early. That’s nice for weddings and funerals, so you don’t have to disturb prayers and stuff. But the last funeral we went to was a little disorganized, we got there a good ten minutes early and I was proud. But the funeral didn’t actually start for an hour and a half after we got there. We had some nice quiet chats with some nice people, but there’s no telling how far it set my training program back.

We are compatible in the big things. Our kids tried the old switcheroo a few times: if dad says no, ask Mom, but Mom almost always had dad’s heart on the matter and agreed with him, so they soon gave up on that one. We also agree that lots of small and large things are funny and we laugh together. If we had memorized the Apostle’s Creed we’d be able to say it together with complete commitment. Jesus is Lord.

So although we are incompatible we still are pretty unified. What does that Bible verse say? “Behold how good and pleasant it is for brothers to dwell together…” As you know we aren’t brothers, but still it’s pretty fine to harmonize as husband and wife. Psalm 133:1

By Divoran

By Divoran

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Early Christmas Celebration

20 Dec

Sometimes God answers our needs and wants before we even think to ask. I really needed someone to fill in for me today on the blog and before I could ask, this appeared in my inbox. Thanks so much, DiVoran. Onisha

My Take

 DiVoran Lites

DiVoran Lites

 

I gotta admit I was a little nervous about having everything perfect for our family Christmas. Daughter helped plan, came up with protocol for gifts, organized the dinner, and wrote the back and forth emails. Husband vacuumed, mopped, got tables and chairs ready on the porch, and repeated “everything is going to be all right,” on multiple occasions.

It’s Time (at last)

Sister and Husband arrive with food, gifts, and good will. Daughter and Husband come in the door (son-in-law made delicious ribs and we accessorized around them). We hear a car and migrate to the front window to watch Son, Wife, and college age Grandchildren emerge with plenty of pretty gift bags and comestibles.

Perfect weather for porch. Holly-jolly time at table. Conversation pops and sizzles. Delicious chocolate chip cookies for pre-dessert, made by Granddaughter.

Move chairs into living room, a place for everyone. Grandson plays Santa, handing out gifts. Suggestion: pay no more than three dollars per gift and buy one for everyone. Only a suggestion, re-gifting, re-cycling, and trading perfectly acceptable. Someone trades mint kisses for dark chocolate, kisses and from there, for special dark–trading up.

Elders tell ancestor stories. Rapt attention for a while. Soon family members close eyes in order to picture the stories better. Everyone gets comfortable, Grandson stretches half way across living room floor, granddaughter curls on couch with head in mom’s lap, Son-in-Law leans head back in easy chair. Son makes strong coffee to go with dessert, demonstrates bell playing technique, hands out tiny bells upon which to play tunes. A person wearing Christmas earrings asks to be a conscientious observer. Okay. Sister conducts Jingle-bells, one note at a time. Watch for video on YouTube.

Two more parties to attend. Grandson receiving texts from spies telling about new roomie moving in to dorm. Mom says, “We can run  by and check it out on the way home.”

Goodbye hugs all around. Chase son-in-law to Jeep for one. Truly, truly, a great time was had by all. Thank you Lord, from the bottoms of our hearts.

Psalm 71:18 The whole Psalm is frabjous!

 

early Christmas

 

 

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Old Books, Cheap

17 Dec

My Take

 DiVoran LItes

At the SPCA thrift store yesterday I found four books to buy.Fortunately, I wasn’t looking for new and popular, but for old and loved.

Lately Bill has been helping me proofread the second novel in the Florida Springs Trilogy, Living Spring. He reads over it, chapter by chapter at my computer explaining his suggestions, and I lie on the couch with the back of my hand to my forehead thinking and discussing. That process reminded me of a writer who so thoroughly knew her material that she also lay on a couch to write, except she dictated to a cotillion of secretaries, and ended up writing a book a day or a book a week . I can’t recall exactly which one. Also, I could not remember her name, but lo and behold, from the depths of the SPCA bookshelf it sprung out at me and drew my hand to its lovely golden spine which said, Barbara Cartland’s, Three Best Loved, 1975. I bought it for thirty-two cents.

Too Soon Old and Too Late Smart: Thirty True things You Need to Know Now, 2004, by Gordon Livingstone, M. D, was also a hardcover and cost thirty-two cents. Living in a small German-based community as a child, I heard that saying a lot and agreed with it more and more as time went on.

I looked at all the old paperback Thesauri, a dime each, but the one I liked was Roget’s 21st Century Thesaurus, 1992 with Tweety-Bird and Sylvester on the cover. I already have a huge one, that weighs 4.5 lb and I love it, but when I want a quick fix, I usually won’t haul it out of the bookshelf and find a place to look at it. The Tweety-Bird issue is an inch thick, and so beautifully arranged that I looked up words just for the fun of it.

No Promises in the Wind. by Irene Hunt, was one thin dime as well. It’s a children’s book about The Great Depression. The author is a relative of mine. She won the Newbury Award for Children’s Literature with, Across Five Aprils, about the Civil War. Irene Hunt is Aunt May Hunt’s daughter. Aunt May Hunt is Grandmother Marie Bowers’ aunt. Grandmother Marie Bowers is my grandmother. The miracle in all this is that I actually got to know my grandmother’s aunt May and, when our daughter was a baby, she met Aunt May who was her great, great, great aunt. Aunt May taught me how to sew a featherstitch for a quilt and also she told me that ladies didn’t have to shave their legs in the olden days because the homespun petticoats were so rough they rubbed the hair right off. I have a feeling they wouldn’t have shaved them anyway, don’t you? The sad thing is that when I moved to Florida, Grandmother Marie urged me to drive over to the west coast and meet her cousin, Irene Hunt, but I was too awed, too busy, too something. Now, of course, I wish I had. By the way, Irene Hunt’s, No Promises in the Wind received excellent recommendations from The Chicago Daily news and from The New York times. Oh please, let me have received a soupcon (pinch) of her talent in my genes.

Habakkuk 2:2

 

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Living Like a Princess

10 Dec

 My Take

DiVoran Lites

DiVoran Lites

I’m God’s totally spoiled little princess and he doesn’t mind me asking anything, he knows how abysmally ignorant I am, he likes me that way. He likes me to be as dependent as I possibly can be. To me Christian maturity is complete dependency. That’s nothing like human maturity.

You know something else that I think is cool? He doesn’t like to do anything by Himself, and he enjoys simple fun. One day I walked into Hobby Lobby and out of the blue I thought, okay, Lord what shall we look at first? I felt his pleasure and anticipation of doing something fun together. It blew me away and I’ve been thinking about it ever since.

He created us because he was lonely. He can’t get enough of us no matter how puzzled and slow-witted, compared with Him, we may be.

Also, He is open to my experimenting with all kinds of ideas and thoughts so he can expand me as He wishes. Our ways are not His ways and our thoughts are not his thoughts. I’m ecstatic about learning to listen and think as He thinks instead of how I have always thought and been taught. It’s so freeing

Isaiah 55:8-9

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Let’s All Be Kings Together!

3 Dec

My Take

DiVoran Lites

DiVoran Lites

Last Monday, our painting group met a younger woman, Denise, who used to paint with us, at her friends’ Chinese restaurant for lunch. “The Asian House,” is near the gym where she teaches Tai Chi. She is Chinese, too, and we delight in that.

The owner’s wife and the waitresses all wore red. Our friend, Denise wore a red tee-shirt with roses and blings on it. They hugged each other and spoke in Chinese and posed together in a colorful bouquet of red and black for a photograph. The owner’s wife brought out long boxes for each of us which contained Chinese calendars with illustrations of animals in a ring. We opened one of them  and began talking and laughing like women all over the world who are taking a break together at a quilting bee or at the village well.

The animals, in Chinese legend, stand for the years people were born and represent various personality characteristics. We joked about our birth years and the youngest waitress looked them up. Were we born in the year of snake, horse, sheep, monkey, chicken, boar, pig, rat, bull, tiger, rabbit, or dragon? What did it say about our personalities? Who should we have married?

I’m sure every culture has its own ways of categorizing people. In America we have horoscopes, psychological tests, and color quizzes. The Christian world has temperament discussions, and giftings. Our society puts people into categories such as homeless, blue-collar workers, white-collar workers, dummies, and nerds.

My year of birth when they finally found it, not on the calendar, but on the place mat, turned out to the year of the tiger. My husband was born in the same year so he’s a tiger too. In America, the lion is considered the king of beasts, but in China, the tiger is king. Actually my husband and I are quite different from each other. He is an engineer, and I am a writer and artist, but we compliment each other and it feels empowering to think of ourselves as kings.

When I finished writing this, I opened the mail. There was a card from a pastor we always loved. After his signature, he had Romans 5:17b. I looked it up. Here’s what it said: “…all who will take God’s gift of forgiveness and acquittal are kings of life because of this one man, Jesus.” So how about it, would you like to be a king as well? You don’t have to be born in a certain year, all you need do is to receive the gift. Let’s all be kings together.

Chinese Calendar

 

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Skinny Jeans for Seniors

26 Nov

My Take

DiVoran Lites

On Mondays I go to the Titusville Art League for what I call, “Inspiration Monday,” where four of us, or three, or two meet to inspire each other and to enjoy the blessing of friendship and company. We look after each other too.

Karen comes in first. She has a long and fascinating story to tell about why she’s late. She comes to our town for the winter and goes to Ohio for the summer. She has discovered black Gloria Vanderbilt jeans that fit like no jeans I’ve ever seen before in my life.

Bess came in with her trellis ribbon at the ready to crochet the most gorgeous, light-weight, three-strand necklaces you ever saw. She taught us how to do it and even supplied the ribbon.

Agnes didn’t come. She’s a retired nurse, who once had cancer. She now often looks after her, “young minister’s little wife,” because she now has the monster disease. Agnes is the fashion police and worries when I wear baggy pants, which I do a lot because praise God I’ve lost weight (on purpose).

I’m DiVoran. You know me. I’ve just published my first book, Sacred Spring, my painting buddies helped me paint the cover. We talk about everything and help each other and say outrageous things to make each other laugh.

Karen, Bess, and I went to Valentino’s for lunch. Bess and I had minestrone and Karen had chicken wings. We shared a basket of garlic bread with a small squabble about who would pay for the garlic bread. Each one wants to give something.

The restaurant was as dark as a bar but we didn’t have to see each other. We knew we all had white or gray hair and a wrinkle or two. Karen and I sat side by side with Bess facing us. When it came time to leave, my hand fell on a set of keys on the seat between us. Oh, I’m glad I felt those keys.

We went to Beall’s as usual because they have sales on Mondays. I didn’t stay long, but when as I left the store, I checked my keys and guess what, they weren’t mine, they were Karen’s. I rushed back into the store looking for white hair above the racks. At last I spotted her and strode over to the skinny jeans department to give her the keys. She grabbed me and hugged me. We both knew she or I or anyone would have been capable of losing the keys and having to launch a frantic search to find them. Friends look after each other sometimes, but there is one who is always taking care of his children.

“For thou art a gracious and merciful God.” Nehemiah 9:31

 

 

 

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