Toot My Own Horn

Toot My Own Horn

I’m terrible at it — tooting my own horn.  I haven’t written lately because I’m still amazed any of you might be interested.

However, there are four big writerly things I should have posted about this year and I only ever posted about one.

Many of you have read “Blue” which won second in the 2016 Writers’ Guild of Texas Flash Fiction Award.  I think it might even be linked somewhere on this page, if not you can always click here.  Well, to add to my WGT honors, I am happy to say  I won both first and second place in the 2017 WGT Flash Fiction competition with “Spin Me Charlie” and “A Dark Fog” respectively.  Read “Spin Me, Charlie” here and “A Dark Fog” here. I’m really proud of this accomplishment and effectively broke the competition.  You can only win one title per contest now.  (Crazy, but I wish I’d won third too!)

I mentioned in a previous post about book three in the short story anthology “Short and Sweet” by Grace Publishing, edited by Susan Cheeves King coming out in April.  In addition to that good news, I’m happy to say book four in the “Short and Sweet” anthology by Grace Publishing just came out and is available on Amazon.  It was another instance of “Happy Mail”.  I’m always amazed to see my name in print.

So there you have it, folks.  Four biggees.  Two contest wins and two traditionally published works.

I will try to keep everyone apprised of big happenings sooner to when they actually happen.  Books are still in the works.  I’ll be seeking beta readers soon.  So hit me up…

I’m also one of the judges for the Granbury Texas Writers’ Bloc Fiction Challenge each month.  Enter that competition so I can be wowed by your genius.  (And yes, I’m speaking directly to you, Howard.)  Seriously though, it’s great fun.  Learn more about it here.

Read something good,

Leah

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Film is Art

Film is Art

 

I’ve held discussions regarding art over the years where someone has a very finite idea of that which is art.  Often times film and books aren’t included in a person’s ideals of what is art. I find that sad.  My personal point of view has me understanding more things as art than most people might.

I was reading a text which claims that art is man-made. It claims that art exists for its own sake and claims that an artist tends to influence their audience. However, it also makes a distinction between a strip shopping mall and something that was beautiful in its architectural design, calling only the latter art.
The text also quotes Göethe saying art should serve three functions: to entertain, to educate and to exalt — or transport us mentally, emotionally or spiritually to a place beyond ourselves.
How can I say this in a way that doesn’t sound offensive? I believe the text, in a sense, short-changes and judges what is art more stringently than we should.
There are two photos in the text which show a distinct difference between a strip shopping mall and Spanish artistically designed homes situated above storefronts. Let’s look at the strip shopping center by itself, without contrasting it with something that is by many standards, more aesthetically pleasing. Ask yourself the questions about defining art. Art is man-made – so is that strip shopping center. Does it exist for its own sake? No, but neither do the homes situated above the storefront. In this instance the textbook says that architecture serves a utilitarian function which goes against art existing for its own sake, and relies on the difference of intention to earn the title of art. The assertion here is that the architect of the strip shopping center had no intention of influencing his audience. Yet how does anyone suggest to know the intent of another? Perhaps within the budget, the client restraint, the intended function of the space, etc the architect’s intent and influence over the strip shopping mall (although perhaps not apparent to us) were still an important part of the architectural design? Perhaps the architect strove to do the most thoughtful and artistic version of his vision within the confines of his job assignment. So wouldn’t it then be art? To assume to know the heart of a creator is to assume your perceptions are more important and more legitimate than the motives behind said creation and that your opinion is more important than what an artist feels.
Remembering art is subjective and beauty is in the eye of the beholder, it would be plausible in the most legalistic definition of art, to call a strip center art.
So how does this pertain to film?
Film is man-made. Film exists for its own sake, and in most instances you can feel the artists’ combined collective influence for the audience — Actors’ interpretations, cinematographers’ shot preferences, even down to the musical score. To say any of these things that were created are not art, defies the definition given in this text. So why argue the point? Yet, so many do.
If someone should consider film to be something that isn’t art, as the sum of the whole, can it’s many parts still be art in their singular existence? Can the whole of something made of small bits of art, not be art? Or does classifying a film as something other than art immediately diminish the artistic contributions of the many individuals tasked with building a film? Does each bit then become something that isn’t art as well? Hopefully this helps people understand the slippery slope of diminishing creation by mere lack of understanding or personal opinion. (I instantly think of two tracking shots I love and consider art — the Copa shot in Scorsese’s Goodfellas and the corner store scene in Wright’s Shaun of the Dead  – two distinctly different movies with similar artistic use of technique)
So I would suggest that art is a more ethereal concept than mere humans can define. Just as morals, values, social constraints and personal experience temper all of our insights, those too temper our interpretation of art. And a muddled misunderstood thing such as art, especially as it applies to writing or to film, is actually strengthened in its claim to art by the struggle it undergoes for the title.
Yet, our acceptance of what is and what isn’t art is merely a construct of our place in time. Film may not be art to you, or perhaps you would even distinguish between different films asserting some are worthy of being called art while others are not. I, however, call all film art. You don’t have to like the film. I don’t have to like it. We don’t have to appreciate it. But how we perceive it doesn’t change that it is indeed evocative, and an expression of one or a collective which influences others in some way. Even to dislike a thing is to feel.
For example, think of Maplethorp’s Self Portrait with Whip (1978) versus Monét’s London’s Green Park (1871) Both were considered shocking and were not considered art within the time they were initially created. Yet they’ve both been prize exhibits in some of the world’s finer art galleries. Times change.  Perceptions change.  We change.
Film is art. And art is to feel —good or bad— as creator or bystander.
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High Lonesome Sound by Jaye Wells – A quick review

High Lonesome Sound by Jaye Wells – A quick review

High Lonesome SoundHigh Lonesome Sound by Jaye Wells
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

A great friend gifted me with a copy of the newest book from author Jaye Wells. I read the first chapter and immediately wanted more. But then life intervened and I had to put the book down for a bit. Well, I started it again and read it in a day. I put everything else aside. I even cooked dinner for my family with the book in hand and lost out on some much-needed sleep.

Jaye Wells tells a good story. She builds suspense and keeps you turning pages, but more importantly, she crafts sentences that are beautifully put together and a blessing to read.

“Something deep in her chest, some burning knowledge that was not of the brain but of the heart, told her that if she didn’t find her song, Moon Hollow would become a tomb and she’d be buried alive.”

This is exactly the kind of horror novel I like to curl up with. There is horror, but not for horror’s sake. Every bloody drop is pertinent to the story and makes it all the more complete.

 

View all my reviews

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Short and Sweet – On Sale Now

Short and Sweet – On Sale Now

Check out this inspirational non-fiction anthology I am proud to be a part of.  It is called Short and Sweet: Small Words for Big Thoughts. It is edited by Susan King of the Upper Room and published by Grace Publishing.

 

What’s so cool about this is the project itself.  Susan King asked me to write a piece for this anthology.  The rules, it had to be micro-fiction 150 words or less.  The words had to be one syllable and it had to be true and inspirational.  Whew.  I sat down and wrote my contribution in long hand in the back of my journal.

 

Buy the book here:

 

Look for Volume 2 coming out soon.

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The Muse LELA

The Muse LELA

This is my first week back to work/writing since my return from Mount Hermon.

I feel inspired and excited and beyond enthusiastic. I also feel sick to my stomach, as if I’ve taken on too much and am overwhelmed.

Enter, LELA.

In my mind’s eye, Lela is a vermillion-haired beauty with twinkling green eyes, dimples and a smattering of freckles across sun-kissed cheeks. An enchantress you would find on the moors with mist about her feet and the laugh of a devious sprite. She is part muse, part conscience.

Besides all of those things in my mind’s eye, LELA is a command center writing collaboration built with two other artists. LELA is a brain trust, a conservation of effort, a duplication of exposure, a wellspring of encouragement and enthusiasm and sometimes even the shackles that keep my feet planted firmly on terra firma. It is my pride and my modesty, it is my will and my conscience. It is my lofty dreams and my fear. It is reckless abandon and common sense all rolled into one. It is exactly the kind of grouping an artist needs, the kind of grouping I need. These artists are my “Go Pro” team and our collaboration is named LELA.

If you’ve read Steven Pressfield’s War of Art, you will instantly know what “Going Pro” is. (If you haven’t read it, check out my review here.)

As for the team element of Going Pro, it is a concoction of a mastermind group, a support group and a group of new, but trustworthy friends. When I decided to become a professional writer, it required a mental commitment. Since writing isn’t always the surest of incomes, it is sometimes hard to remember you are a professional writer when you are in between paychecks. When you are “in the trenches” so to speak. Especially in a society where success is measured in dollar signs.

A GoPro Team helps you stay focused and reminds you that you are in it for the art of it all, not just for the money. Money is lagniappe. You are in it because your soul tells you to be in it. You are driven there. It is easy for an artist to be solely driven and lonely and to hold an audience of zero in the pursuit of their art, but it isn’t necessary. As a matter of fact, I highly suggest you don’t go it alone. Having some steadfast, intelligent, similarly structured beings with whom to share your ideas can sometimes keep you from making a boneheaded mistake in the name of art. It can save you from wasting valuable hours.

However, not just any group will do. I’ve been a part of different, wide-ranging groups and I’ve met countless people in the writing world and it took me ages to find LELA and it happened rather organically.

I pursued two-thirds of my group (for you math wise folks, yes, it means I pursued everyone but myself). These were artists I met, admired, and wanted to be when I grow up — even though I’m the oldest of the bunch. I pursued them as friends. I pursued them as people to look up to, mentors. However, I did not pursue them as a GoPro Team. Yet that is what they became. And I’m grateful for that organic metamorphosis. Truly. And I pray I give as good as I get.

I will introduce you to my beautiful, exquisite GoPro team in weeks to come. No need keeping all of their greatness to myself, as tempting as that is.

I urge all of you artists out there to recognize that this doesn’t have to be a solo venture. God brings people in and out of your life for a purpose. You may already be in the presence of those who will help you reach greater depth in your art. Look around. Pursue if you have to.

By all means, Go Pro.

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Mt. Hermon Take-away

Mt. Hermon Take-away

As many of you know, I entered a contest and was selected as one of ten winners who won admission to the Mt. Hermon Christian Writers’ Conference, including room and board.

I spent several fabulous days outside Santa Cruz, California. I communed with other writers, people in the writing industry and just all around good folks. I kayaked in the Pacific. I hiked through a redwood forest. But most of all, I learned a lot about myself and this crazy path I’m on.

1. Having goals is different than having a plan. Sometimes it’s the round-about-meandering path that gets us our goals more so, than the strict itinerary of a plan. It is amazing how free it is to walk into a writing conference with no agenda. Now I can’t claim I did that. My friend did that. But I soon dropped my agenda and decided there was so much more to gain if I would just shut-up for a second. And when I did, things started happening. Very. Good. Things.

2. Guess what? I totally dig kayaking and think I need a kayak. (you know, in case anyone reading this needs a hint for a birthday, mother’s day, or anniversary gift . . .)

3. I’m in a good place, geographically. I have a really great writing group right here in the Dallas area. The literary community is growing and I love LELA.

4. You know what? I have talent. Pashawwwwww. But it’s true. Strangers like my words, ideas and worlds. That’s pretty freaking amazing.

5. I’m super lucky to have the support of Big Tough and the Brood. My family digs my being a writer.

6. My mind was blown. I had this creamy Italian chocolate pot that was enough to write home about. (See the above pic. Amazing, right?) Thank you, MD!  It is called Deep Chocolate Indulgence and it includes a half slice of Chocolate Ecstacy Cake, a mini Italian Pot of Chocolate, and a Bittersweet Truffle. Holy cow, Batman.  Next time you are in Santa Cruz, Ca., go here, Chocolate on Pacific Ave.

7. And I learned to trust my gut, my heart and my husband.  (Whew.  Biggest and best for last.) This was exactly where I needed to be at exactly the right time. Big Tough’s words of encouragement have been an important part of my journey.

I’m still in the pinch-me phase and I fully recognize my life is forever changed.

So here is some BIG news. I am delaying The Proving Ring for just a bit (a year at most) while I finish up a couple non-fiction manuscripts that apparently my heart has been aching to write because I got requests for manuscripts of books I have not even started — from major publishing companies, no less. I may have another EPIC surprise on the horizon, too.  🙂

All in all, my little chickadees, don’t be disheartened. Dreams may be a long time in coming, but God knows the true and pure desires of your heart. Keep trying. Keep learning and by all means, don’t ever give up.

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My Husband’s Hands

My Husband’s Hands

I had a dream the other day. It doesn’t seem like much, and to most people it probably wouldn’t be a big deal. But the dream has been bugging me all week.

In my dream, I am with my husband, BigTough, and his new family (which he doesn’t have in real life – totally make-believe) at a local ice cream shop. He has a notebook full of things from his youth, stories he has written, and ribbons he has won in track and field. He has a little screen with him. He pops in a home movie to show his new family. In the video I see close-ups of different art projects he worked on as a child, and report cards. All the things that represent his history. Then I see a close-up of him shuffling through papers.

Up until this point in the dream, I was fine. I sit across from his new bride with a big smile on my face. But when I see his hands I lose my mind.

Those hands are supposed to hold my hands.  Those hands are supposed to wipe away my tears. Those hands are supposed to run up and down my back when he holds me crying after our nest is empty.

Those hands are mine.

Now I don’t have a clue what this means, Except that I love him. I guess people put so much stock in what others look like, and what they themselves look like, when it’s something greater than that that makes a person beautiful.

I love my husband’s hands. I love them most when they’re holding mine.

My husband is handsome.

But you should see his hands.

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Jigsaw Puzzle Manuscript

Jigsaw Puzzle Manuscript

Every once in a while I do something crazy.  Like yesterday.  I shaved nearly 10,000 words off of Act one of the Proving Ring and started rearranging things.

The characters have fleshed themselves out and know better where they need to be in the timeline than they did when I typed the first sentence of this manuscript.

So today I am putting all of the pieces together again.  At first I was nervous with an “OMG, WTF did I do?” moment.  But with the initial panic over, I see a tighter, leaner, meaner story.

 

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Blue – Writers’ Guild Texas 2016 Flash Fiction Contest

Blue – Writers’ Guild Texas 2016 Flash Fiction Contest

Last fall, I decided to enter my first ever writing competition.  To make it more challenging, I decided to write a story for a Flash Fiction Contest.  Flash Fiction is a complete story – start to finish – in a thousand words or less.

Some of you might think that I played it safe  because I chose a contest requiring a small amount of writing.  But you can’t understand Flash Fiction until you’ve tried writing Flash Fiction.  You aren’t allowed pages upon pages to establish a character.  You have to do that in a mere sentence or two.

Flash fiction is definitely an exercise in brevity and understanding what your story is truly about.  There are no bunny trails to wander down.

I won second place in that contest for my submission entitled “Blue.” This February it was published in the online monthly newsletter/journal of the Writers’ Guild Texas.

You can read it here.

 

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