Sometimes it seems the world has let us down…
We hear the nightly news and cry or frown…
Who has died today? Who has lied? Who has hurt another?
Isn’t there something else we can do, something other
Than tears and fears, fright and fight?
Look to the beauty of the heavens above
That have no boundaries to calm your mind…
There is still peace and love in our lives…
This is what we must strive to release…
Pray for Peace…
I’m trying to keep a promise
I think it will be harmless
To write something every day
To help someone on their way
To express what they feel
Penning words to describe what’s real
Hiding in the depths of our hearts
Words bring people together
Don’t let them tear us apart
Let words and feelings make us all better
Than we were at the start of each new day
Spreading gifts of creativity to everyone along our way
By Deborah A. Bowman
I hope you always have smooth sailing working with your editor.
I know that we are dreaded like the plague
And good writers all have been known to beg
For leniency, or “for just this once”
“Let me please have my participles in a bunch…”
It’s not rocket science or even a hunch
There really are tried and true rules
That adhere to the ‘Elements of Style’ clues
The bible, so to speak, on traditional editing
There is a right way and a wrong way for betting
On your words, finding your way
To take your thoughts and what you say
And put it in verse for another day
Or lovely prose with descriptive highlights
To tickle someone’s fancy and take them to new heights
In appreciating a well-edited dialogue
So your momentous scene isn’t bogged
Down, dribbling with boring facts
Or inconsequential IT hacks
Who’d rather be staring at patterns in binary
Who cares about your words? So secondary
To your science, technical, and professional views
If you can’t spill the beans on the most recent news
In your industry and do it justice
Your words are just tracks of scuffs
Showing you’ve been there
But you just didn’t care
About the right ways to present
Your latest new plot or business event
When you need to get the word out
By better means than just a shout
Editors can make it delectable–
Extract the extraneous, enhance the essential
Let your words speak for themselves
Letting your editor proofread and clarify
With accuracy and consistency
What you need to in-print upon the masses
For all time, literate passes
Through the online super highway
To express your desires, put out the fires
On the subject matter that you share with your peers
Releasing your fears, making the syntax clear
Yeah, an editor can do all that…
–© 2016 by Deborah A Bowman.
Editing from yesteryear…
Getting down to the end of final corrections and rewrites for Annie’s Book, Blessed With a Gift, I can see the end in sight, but how do I stop the tears? Will they be happy or sad tears? Does it matter?
Yes, I suppose it does. You’ll just have to read it to find out. Information on how you can get a copy due to be posted by August. Wish me and Annie luck, love and laughter.We’re both gonna need it.
Deborah A. Bowman, author
Annie comes from the past, but will live forever in your hearts.
Annie Doll on my desk.
Annie’s from mid-1600s America. She is Blessed With A Gift or is she cursed? How do you know for sure? I think her love for animals says much about her love for everything.
Read about the treatment of children and women in The British Colonies. You may not be prepared for the treatment of children born with birth defects. ‘Twas sad, when wee Annie had so much love and healing to give. But what if she is misunderstood? Superstition ruled the land, but who ruled the people, especially during the 19 years when England, Scotland, and France were involved in an atrocious civil war. The colonies were forsaken. Turmoil ruled. The documented history you probably weren’t taught in grade school. Can Annie be saved when everyone loves her? Is love enough? I truly hope so.
Annie lived 40-50 years prior to the Witch Hysteria. Annie should be safe, but …
Enjoy Annie’s happiness and spirit as a healer and herbalist. She’s a happy little girl. She’s a savant and a telepathic receiver, and above average in some aspects of her life, but she canna’ count or read. Annie is special.
Deborah A. Bowman.
I woke up today and the world had changed
It didn’t seem so different yesterday, what was rearranged?
The grass is somehow more luscious, lush, and green
There are wildflowers and thick leaves in vivid hues to be seen
The air is hot and moist today with rays of brilliant sun
Everyone is joyous and finding new games of outdoor fun
It seems just a fortnight ago, the earth was awash with spring
Tiny seedlings and buds just opening, birds returning to sing
Wisps of gentle breezes, chilly nights with dew-kissed dawns
Now the stillness of fragrant air and the days have grown so long
The sweet whisper of gurgling brooks over heated rocks and stones
Quiet times of peace to relax, finding time to be alone
Not wanting to stir in the humid heat of sunlight
Drinking in the beauty of summer with glorious sights
Annie’s Story, Blessed With A Gift
I have just started a second beta reader on my upcoming book–Historical Fiction Based On Fact, Past-Life Hypnotic Regression. I wanted to share what my reader, who had asked me to beta read the book after seeing my last blog on “Annie”. This is what she had to say after reading just the first two small chapters where Annie’s parents die of the dreaded fever prevalent in early Colonial America:
OK, they died and passed to another dimension…got that. Don’t leave me hanging; what’s next?!?
Obviously I am hooked. And that is not easy because from all my years proofreading, grammatical errors, etc., become very distracting to me. Your writing has none of those. Plus it reads fast ( if you know what I mean). I hate reading where I have to stop and focus on every single word.
Frankly, I am picky about what fiction I read and I find yours intriguing. Your characters are beautifully brought to life (which you promptly killed-off) without excess verbiage — kudos.
You made me cry. Not because she died but understanding the utter despair he must have felt conscious enough to ken what was coming.