Ginger Simpson's Christmas Memory

Sleigh Bells and Reindeer

“I think I hear sleigh bells,” my dad would say every Christmas. We’d scurry to our bedrooms and pretend to be fast asleep. Being the oldest of four, I knew Dad was the one who went outside and attempted to make reindeer tracks in the dirt. We didn’t have a fireplace, so Santa had to come in through the door. The important thing was that he came.

How my mom and dad managed to give us such joy and the very thing we wanted when the raft shop where my dad worked at the local air force base paid ninety cents an hour.
We thought we were in hog heaven when he brought home the canned rations every now and then. Each one had a candy inside, and the crackers weren’t bad either. I can’t recall a Christmas that didn’t put a permanent smile on my face and joy in my heart.

Although Dad was Jewish and didn’t believe in the reason for the season, he was always the first to shake the presents beneath the tree. We always vowed to wait until Christmas morning to open gifts, but he was the culprit behind the “let’s open just one.”

Sure, one turned into two, and before we knew it, we sat amongst opened boxes and a landslide of wrapping paper, happy with what we’d received, but disappointed that once again we’d failed to wait until morning. So the tradition continues. Christmas eve is our time to celebrate, and I’m always urged on by my father’s voice in my head, telling me now from heaven, “just open one. What harm can it do?” Oh, we still have our Christmas dinner on the day of, and as a Christian, I celebrate the birth of Jesus, and I will be forever thankful for the parents he gave me.

We weren’t rich in the financial sense, but in love we were millionaires. I’d give anything to have one of those Christmas Eves over again, and hear my Dad’s sweet voice talking to me for real. He’s been gone for over twenty years now, but if you’re listening Daddy, your little girl loves you with all her heart, and I miss you still. You’ll always be in my heart.

I wish all a "let's just open one," Christmas. Happy New Year, too.

Barbara Bockman’s Wonderful Christmas

I grew up in the mountains of North Carolina, near Asheville. When I was young, it sometimes snowed at Christmas. I loved to watch snow falling and to go out and play with my cousins. Once Billy and Nancy and Frank and I attempted to make an igloo.

So many of my wonderful Christmases were just alike that it’s hard to single out a special one.

Of course, I always got a doll. That was necessary because the one from last year was always missing a limb or an eye (the kind that fell backward out of the eye socket into the head of the doll). Also, if I had left her out in the rain, the paint of her face washed off. By the next Christmas, that doll was an eyesore, so Santa Claus brought me a new one.

For years, after breakfast, I proudly marched out the road to visit the relatives. I showed off my new doll and admired the gifts Santa had left my cousins. If I hung around the kitchen doors, my aunts gave me cookies or candy; it didn’t even require a hint.

A special Christmas does come to mind. One year, my aunt Gladys gave me a Brownie camera. What a treat! I wanted to go out immediately and take pictures even though it was snowing heavily. My mother bundled me up in my coat with matching leggings and cap and boots. I slung the little black strap around my neck and out I went to take pictures. The little black box was easy to focus, with its two-inch square aperture under the flip-top. Since there was no such thing as a flash attachment at that time, all my photography took place outdoors.

It’s strange how the white world of a snow-filled sky seems to take color out of regular objects. I walked in whiteness, sometimes sticking my tongue out to capture snowflakes, hardly feeling the cold.

Some of the neighbors had hedges of evergreens or boxwood, and that special Christmas day, snow piled inches high on the limbs and weighed them down. I was ecstatic with the beauty of it all, and took up a whole roll of film.

That Brownie camera was one of the best gifts ever and one I remember fondly to this day.

Barbara Ehrentreu's Favorite Christmas Memory

My Favorite Christmas Memory

When my husband and I got married we moved back to Cortland, NY where I had just graduated from SUNY Cortland. I had never really appreciated the town itself, since I was from a big city and the town had very little to offer me. When I had been a student all I knew about the town were the bars, a restaurant and the only diner.

When we moved back we didn’t really explore the town. I was teaching every day and the only trips we took to town were to go to the huge, cavernous movie theater, the supermarket and the laundromat. It would have been very lonely for both of us, but my husband had school during the day and work. My teaching took me to the neighboring town of Cincinnatus, which was so small it would have fitted into Cortland with space to spare. The weather was cold and snowy, since Cortland is right in the middle of the snowbelt. We were both feeling a little down at the holidays, because we hadn’t been able to get back to the city where all of my relatives lived.

So my husband decided we would try to have our own holiday celebration. Of course we celebrated Chanukah, but he remembered when he was a boy and had celebrated Christmas. He went out and got us a tree. It was more like the tree in “A Charlie Brown Christmas”, but it was a little fuller and half the size of a normal tree. We put it on a stand and decorated it with brand new ornaments we bought together complete with the lights. I was delighted, because I had never had a tree in my place before and this had been such a dream for me.:) Then we decided to give each other presents and allotted one day for the shopping.



We walked over to Main Street, which was a few blocks away. We couldn’t have driven there anyway, since we didn’t have a car yet! We were living in a tiny one and a half bedroom apartment and paid only $65 a month for it.:) This was back in 1965 when prices like this for rent were the usual in small towns. So when we got to the Main Street we divided and went our separate ways. We had each given the other a list of the things we might like. I explored the possibilities for shopping and found a department store where I could find everything I needed. I also found a few other specialty stores as well. Having had each gift wrapped for me, I met my husband again and we walked back home. Each of us had a secret smile on our faces. But we had to put our gifts under the tree. It wasn’t Christmas yet and we didn’t want to spoil the surprise.
Finally Christmas Eve came and we couldn’t wait any longer. Our tree was there in the middle of our living room with its pine scent and bright colored lights. We unwrapped each other’s presents and the only thing I remember from it is a beautiful dress with a design of a Mondrian painting on it. It had big squares colored red and blue and white with black lines surrounding each one. I had also knitted my husband a sweater and he loved it.:) Standing in the middle of the gift wrapping wearing my dress I finally felt like we were a family and that someday we would be surrounded by our future children. I didn’t realize that this would be the last Christmas that we had a tree, but I will never forget it and it was the best Christmas I ever spent.

Christmas Memories

There are so many Christmas memories that I find it difficult to know which ones to  But this one came to mind for some reason.

We'd been married for about five years and it had always been our tradition to put up our tree the beginning of December. My mom always put her tree up on St. Nicholas Day, December 6th. Later, once we bought artificial trees we began putting them up the day after Thanksgiving, a tradition started by my sister that everyone copied. I love Christmas and everything to do with it, so it only seemed natural to put it up then. Besides, back when I was a child the holidays started for our family the day after Thanksgiving with baking cookies and such.

But, I digress from this particular memory.

We lived in a small community that Santa came down all the streets in a sleigh(with wheels) pulled by horses every year around the middle of December Everyone came out to greet him and he passed out candy canes to the kids, no those little candy canes either, those big, thick, long ones. Anyway,  we still didn't have our tree. Money was tight and other things took priority that year. Besides that, our car was broke down and we didn't even have a way to get one.

But that didn't stop me from whining. I wanted my tree. It was getting late in the season and already people were decorated and trees showed up in everyone's windows. Everyone's but ours. I missed the bright colored lights and the warm glow. So, of course one weekend I complained endlessly.

Either tired of hearing me or just being a terrific guy (I'm still not sure which) hubby put on his coat and shoes and walked up to the corner. Let me describe walking to the corner. We lived on a main street and there were several houses between us and the next cross street. That's not the corner I meant. Between that cross street and the corner was a very large cemetery, maybe three quarters of a mile away.

Hubby bought a tree and dragged it home behind him in the snow. And I'm not talking a three or four foot tree, I'm talking about six feet. So... he comes home and he's cold and out of breath, but chuckling.talk about.

Amazed at his good mood, I asked him what was so funny.  Apparently, while he was walking home, a lady stopped him and asked if he knew when Santa was coming. Not stopping to think about it, and not in the best of moods, he looked at her and answered, Christmas.  After she pulled away, he thought about it while walking and realized she meant the Santa who went around the neighborhood. 

Bet she never stops and asks a man dragging a tree down the street that question again.  I wish I had a picture of that. It must have been an awesome sight.

Book Review of Santa is a Lady

I recently had the pleasure of reading Santa is a Lady by L J Holmes.

After Beck Cavington convinces her best friend, Angie Brightwell, to play Santa for her candy shop against Angie's better judgment, all kinds of hell breaks loose. Not only does a handsome single father bring his daughter into see Santa, the 2 year old manages to entangle her tiny fingers in Santa's beard. Yep, you guessed it, the beard comes off. The father is so angry to see Santa is a woman, he gives her and the shop owner a piece of his mind.

To make matters worse, the next day the town hellion approaches and after stomping all over Santa's lap, manages to pull of her wig. Beck blames Angie for the whole mess and the scene is witnessed by Cam. LJ Holmes weaves a magical Christmas tale. Treat yourself to a story filled with humor and emotion.

Welcome, Christine Verstraete - 10 Tips for Better Writing

Welcome,  Christine Verstraete, author of  The Killer Valentine Ball

Bio: I grew up with my nose always in a book, so it seemed a natural progression that I wanted to be a writer. A prophetic wish, it seems, judging from my favorite baby photo as seen on my website of me with a newspaper and a pencil behind my ear. I studied journalism and continue to do freelance writing for newspapers.


I also enjoy writing all kinds of fiction, with stories appearing in several anthologies including the recent Steampunk'd from DAW Books (coming out Nov. 2).

My kid's mystery, Searching for a Starry Night, A Miniature Art Mystery, was #1 on Kindle for Miniatures books and was a 2009 EPPIE Award finalist for best YA/children's ebook by the Epic Foundation.

You can learn more about Christine at:
Website: http://cverstraete.com/
Blog: http://candidcanine.blogspot.com/
Book page: http://museituppublishing.com/musepub/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=95&Itemid=82


10 Tips to Better Writing
1. Start Small

Big projects can sometimes be overwhelming. Break them into bite-size pieces. I'm guilty of stressing over not writing the 20 pages a week I'd planned. Setting goals smaller, say three pages a day, will get almost the same results, with less stress. And if you don't get the exact amount done, don't beat yourself up. Even one paragraph or page is one more than you had before, and 500 or so words closer to your final word count.



2. Believe in Yourself
A bad review can hurt, but the pain is temporary. But that inner critic that tries to hold you back and tear down your efforts (you're a lousy writer, you'll never get anywhere, why are you wasting your time?...) can be worse. Believe in you. Think on what you've accomplished and move forward. One rejection is just that. It's not the end. Don't let rejection stalk you. Send that story or project to another publication and move on to the next one. Having at least a few stories circulating (some say 10 or 12 if you can) will prevent you from obsessing over one.


3. Learn From Others

Success comes from listening to others who have already been there. Check out the experiences of other writers in your genre. Study the works of writers you admire to see how they did it. No matter how many years you've been writing, there is always something new to learn.

4. Review Yourself

A little self-evaluation can be good to gauge where you are in your writing goals and progress. Be honest; don't be afraid to point out your shortcomings, but also decide on how to improve them. Maybe you've only been published in lower paying markets and are afraid to move to the next level. Pick a market you haven't written for; study the content, and work on a story to submit. Becoming a better writer doesn't mean treading water; test the waters in new markets.

5. Make Goals
Goals keep you from stagnating, but make them reasonable. Start with one goal, like planning to get published in a new magazine in your genre, or working on a story in a different genre or field. When that goal is accomplished, make a new goal. Keep moving forward and don't stress over how long achieving that goal may take. It isn't a race. Work at the pace you feel comfortable with.


6. Seize the Day!

Swallow your fears. Some opportunities only come once. Don't be afraid to take a chance. You never know where it will lead.


7. Don't Fear Mistakes
You'll make mistakes; you'll write less than stellar stories. We all have. It's one mistake. Even if you make the same mistake, it's not the end of the world. Learn from them. Every mistake only makes you stronger.

8. Don't Be a Victim
Self-pity leads to depression, which leads to inactivity, self-doubt and can be a vicious spiral that robs you of your energy and happiness. No matter your circumstances, there is no reason to sit still and be unproductive. Don't make excuses, do something. There are tons of free resources available. Use the Internet and computers at the library. See if there is a niche in your community where you can volunteer or provide a service. See #5.


9. Be Happy

We all can't be Rockefellers or live like them. Always thinking the grass is greener on the other side will never make you satisfied. Look closer and you'll find crabgrass and weeds there, too. Enjoy your faith, friends, family, pets, and hobbies. Shut off the computer and make time to exercise and have some fun. You'll feel better and be more productive.


10. Think Positive

It takes less energy to think positive and will add more to your life and your writing.

The Killer Valentine Ball


Author: C. A. Verstraete

Cover Artist: Delilah K. Stephans

Word Count: 3,094

Pages: 15

ISBN: 978-0-9865875-6-6

Price: $0.99

Release date: October 1, 2010

Warning: Light gore

Blurb:

A party at a day camp; a blind date on Valentine's Day. Can you say loser?, Jess thinks. But this is no ordinary party. The Killer Valentine Ball has more thrills than Jess ever expected--or will ever forget.

A party at a day camp; a blind date on Valentine's Day. Can you say loser?, Jess thinks. But this is no ordinary party. The Killer Valentine Ball has more thrills than Jess ever expected--or will ever forget.

Excerpt:

As they walked into the shadows, Jess noticed that things weren't quite as they appeared. Sections of the room lightened for a moment before being cast again in deep shadow. What Jess thought she saw in that split second made her heart race. On the dance floor, the same three couples stood, clasped to each other. Jess stared. She swore they never moved.

The music played quietly in the background. When the shadows brightened, Jess caught a quick glimpse of one of the couples. The young man's mouth gaped open. His partner's gown glistened with streams of dark ribbons. The light flashed again and Jess gasped. Those weren't ribbons! The girl's dress shone with dark glimmers. Like-like blood, she thought. No, it can't be! She looked back at Dylan, who shook his head and urged her on.

"Light tricks," he whispered. "It's not real. It's Halloween stuff, like the movie. Don't worry."

Muse Authors

I had the pleasure this week of meeting a couple of Muse Authors. Saturday, my hubby and I had dinner with Rebecca Ryals Russell and her husband, Mike, Marsha Moore and her husband, Steve and Barbara and Barbara Bockman. Rebecca graciously offered us the use of her cabin home for a couple of nights. We had dinner at Carraba's in Gainesville, Florida. Barbara was an added surprise, that Rebecca sprung on us. We had no idea she was coming. What a treat. We spent the time discussing Muse Publishing. We all agreed Lea Schizas was a top notch publisher.
Tonight, I had the pleasure of meeting Ginger Simpson. Hubby and I met her at Shoney's for dinner. Unfortunately, her hubby couldn't make it. Maybe we'll get to meet him next time. We think both hubbys will have a lot in common, both being truck drivers and married to a couple of nuts.
It was such a thrill meeting these authors.  I hope someday to meet more of them.