BRV: Dawes - My Way Back Home@The Pabst

My first attempts at writing poetry!

Our public library is hosting a Poem in Your Pocket event on April 18. I'm looking forward to participating. I started my first "public reading" (it sounds presumptuous) of one of my poems at the CORE Winery in Orcutt several months ago. Characteristically (for me), I haven't repeated the experience, even though it was one of the best. I began by promising that I was not a poet, so they wouldn't be disappointed if I bombed out. Well, afterwards, someone came up and shook my hand and said, "You are a poet!" So, I ask  you: Why haven't I been back? Maybe because it can't get any better than that. (smile) 

I wonder which poem I should read at the library. Any suggestions?

The Mountain

Rooted darkly down primeval depths,

The mountain lifts its sunlit slopes skyward.

While flinty spines dive fervently downward

Between wetted walls of secret hollows.

Rain comes, springs burst forth,

The outward flow becomes a stream.

Seeds root their way through rock ribs,

Feverishly anticipating a greater life to come.

Today, deer and bear and bird range above,

Moles, foxes and ground squirrels burrow below.

Tomorrow, quakes may raise cave walls

Into sunlight and rocky peaks turn sullen.

Inside, darkness and light dwell side by side,

Languor weds warmth and joy to abject sadness,

The living come to bury their dead,

And the mountain is simply the mountain.

Beverly Gaye Scofield 

2012

 

A Clearing of the Skies

 I feel a clearing of the skies.

The last drop of rain flings itself

From the roof's edge, and the wind

Carries it away to fall in the garden next door.

Little gray birds flit among the leaves, finding

Sanctuary upon the gnarly branches of an old orange tree.

Yesterday, the wind sounded like ancient Aoleus

Dragging a long, gray beard through protesting grasses.

Today, it is young and lean, nipping at the clouds

Like a working dog at the heels of fleecy sheep.

A mountain's bulk shoulders the vap'rous flock up and over,

Pushing them on toward anticipating poets.

The rain endures but the wind abates,

Cloud tatters cast occasional shadows

Trailing whispers of departing thunder.

And, I feel a clearing of the skies.

Beverly Gaye Scofield

2001

Looking for Myself

 Wand'ring paths where no light shines;

Tangled up in webs and vines;

Misled by mistaken signs;

Looking for myself.

Landscape rising bleak and stark;

Meeting strangers in the dark;

Arrows find their bleeding mark;

Looking for myself.

Eyes that look but cannot see;

Feet that run but cannot flee;

Thoughts that sing but are not free;

Looking for myself.

Flowers growing upside down;

Water burning with no sound;

Shadows gath'ring all around;

Looking for myself.

 Beverly Gaye Enos

1980

 

Santa Maria Bookworms and Scribes - Check out more inclusive website! Donna has good experience about ebook sales!

The latest news from Scribes and Bookworms:

Donna Peabody (Organizer) sent a message to the Santa Maria Bookworms and Scribes mailing list

The future

Hi everyone! I hope this finds you all well and writing. As some of you know I have moved to Fresno. I had intended to continue this group, but with the current Covid-19 restrictions, I feel it is time to say adieu to Santa Maria Bookworms and Scribes.
I am hoping to create an online room where those of you who are interested can join in and share your writings, thoughts, and ideas. If you are interested in such a venue contact me: wyldemajik@hotmail.com. I will let you know when I have worked out the details.
I wish you all happiness, health, and a rich creative life. As of today I am stepping down as organizer and if any of you wish to take up the mantle feel free,

Thanks for all the support!
Donna Lee Peabody

Bookworms Report

After meeting with the Santa Maria Bookworms and Scribes, I'm looking forward to the next time--next month. That will give me time to work on some new writing on, maybe Nary a Drop of Seawater. It's probably closest to completion. Whew, just saying that makes me feel energized! Send me all the vibes you can spare.

Bookworms Report - Reminiscing

This evening I caught the last hour or so of a MeetUp of the Bookworms, a writers' group meeting at the Santa Maria Public Library. I was late, but they invited me to read what I had brought--Lady on the Bench. They were complimentary! I asked for their comments on whether I should post it here, whether folks would be interested in reading it. They gave me a yes and a go-ahead. So . . .

 Lady on the Bench

by

Beverly Gaye Scofield

1992

The first time I saw her she was sitting on a sidewalk bench on the corner of Light and Pratt Streets, busiest tourist intersection in Baltimore. It was early. The sun was just coming in over the tops of the tall downtown buildings. A finger of gold touched her head and slid down the length of her. She glowed, as though the sun had discovered a way to get inside her. Beside the bench, her shopping cart bristled with mysterious, plastic-wrapped odds and ends. The fingers of her right hand curled firmly around its handle.

It was early October and already the nights were chilly, the morning air too fresh for comfort. She was swathed in layers of clothing. Dark trousers reached almost to her ankles. Between their cuffs and the tops of army boots, I could see the ribs and puckers of long johns. Her trench coat fell open, and a rainbow of shirts and sweatshirts peeked around one another. Out of it all, a red plaid skirt emerged, falling halfway down her legs.

At least, I thought, she is probably not cold. But where had she slept last night? In this age of urban renewal, lairs for the homeless to hide away in were all disappearing. How did she make her way in an unfriendly world? What did she think about as she sat on a bench on an early October morning, waiting . . . waiting for what?

I walked closer to get a better look, peering up the street, pretending to look for a bus so I wouldn't seem rude if she opened her eyes suddenly. But her eyes were still closed, and up close her face seemed relaxed, the touch of the sun imparting beatitude. In the bright light, I could see every line of her careworn face, sculpted deeply but strangely pleasing.

How did she keep clean? Her hair, pushed back by a thick woolen scarf, appeared to be clean, recently brushed and braided. Where did she take her morning toilette? Her free hand lay loose and relaxed in her lap, fingernails broken but clean. How had she managed that, with no ready bathroom? How did she manage anything, with no phone to call a family for help, nowhere to go when she fell ill, no place to sit comfortably in private and just rest, without the need to worry about her cart and its precious cargo? It was all so far beyond my ken, so unbelievably foreign to everything I'd ever experienced.

What if she were my mother? My heart clenched with pain at the thought. Then, in a flood of revealing grief, I saw myself sitting there.

The End

It's a good group. Four others were there--Donna, Kristin, Rene' and Dot. They meet once a month. So, I'll have to work during the next month. I'm looking forward to it.

Poem - Mighty Joe Young

He Said His Name Was Joe Young

He said his name was Joe Young.

Once I'd pulled ahead and stopped

To intercept him at a pullout,

I teased and called him mighty.

His bicycle, encumbered, stem to stern,

By neatly rolled up bundles,

Seemed too heavy to be pushed,

As he was doing, much less ridden.

He wasn't a young man by any means,

But when I shook his hand, his grip exuded strength;

His eyes full of the merriment that comes only

From a heart that loves life and enjoys living it.

Joe's untrimmed beard covered his face and chest,

Blended at the sides with longish uncut hair.

Whether blond, red, or gray remained a mystery.

His lips, as he spoke, hid behind a wide red mustache.

We sat together on the tailgate of my pickup truck.

Our stories of adventure traveling back and forth.

My own seemed mild compared to his, but when I told my dream,

He laughed aloud in genuine appreciation. He understood.

He went his way, trudging byways, seeing the country, edge to edge.

I drove on, richer for having seen his eyes and heard his voice.

And when I, too, hit the road in months to come,

I pray I’ll cross paths again with mighty Joe Young,

Somewhere in America, living life his way.

Beverly Gaye Scofield

2014 All rights reserved

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was one of my true life people adventures. On one of the beautiful Tennessee backroads, I passed and then looked back at this old guy pushing his loaded bicycle along the roadside. I pulled off at the first wide spot and waited for him to catch up. He stopped. This is what happened. I had snacks with me, and we just visited. It was surreal and wonderful. Enjoy.

Apologies to Anyone Interested in Picking Up Where I Left Off

 Hey, to any followers who might be listening!

I can easily imagine that I'm writing for myself after this long hiatus. Yes, I got my travel trailer all ready and hit the road in January 2015. 

After a short stay with my good friend (adopted Little Brother) Danny Smith and his sweet wife Bev (more later about that lovely visit), I traveled on. 

Then, in Arizona, on a windy day, the trailer and I had a tussle about who was in charge. It won. Or, I should say, it lost the battle and ended up in a huge pile of splinters.

Stuff piled onto the salvage trailer.

Structural wood in a pile!

Not even the worst truck damage.

When all was settled there, I journeyed on to California, spent some time with nephew Paul and his sweet wife Tereza in San Francisco. I bought an old camper to go on my poor old battered Ford pickup there, Paul and Tereza labored mightily to get me on the road again, and I came on to my hometown, Santa Maria, California. I've been ensconced in a small apartment in a senior residential complex for three years now, wondering when I'll get back to writing, to finishing up all the partially-written stories and book just waiting for attention.

I fill my time with odds and ends, try to make myself useful when friends here need a ride or help with some other doable task. There's a small garden area beside the building I live in, and I water and weed a bit while keeping a small plot of alyssum flowers in bloom in Little Mother's honor.

The feral cats on the property need feeding, and that seems to have fallen partly to me and one other woman. 

And, I became the unofficial hall monitor, keeping lobby doors closed or open, as the powers-that-be order--often in opposition to unruly fellow residents who prefer fresh air to orders. (smile) Oh, and I play the piano in the main lobby several times a week, just to keep my hand in. People pass by, sometimes sit for awhile to listen and seem to enjoy the music. So far, I haven't begun the swimming pool exercise program I keep thinking about.

I will try to keep this up, for my own benefit mostly but also for anyone who still has an interest.

Beverly "SilverBee" Scofield

It feels like coming up for air after a long swim underwater. I'm not trying to compare the busyness of my life with yours, for I'm luckier than most in my freedom to choose. It's the plethora of choices that makes it all seem so gaspingly immediate. (smile) What are these absolutely overwhelming choices? Well . . . now that I try to put them into more down-to-earth terms, they seem more exciting than threatening. Okay, I love them. I admit it! Satisfied? LOL 

So, instead, I'll tell you about a book I just ran across. I'm only part way into the first chapter and I'm thinking, "Everyone should read this book!" You know--you've read that kind of book. This one is Original Sinners: A New Interpretation of Genesis by John R. Coats. No, it isn't a book about religion per se, but one about human nature--about me, for one, and I suspect about all us human beans. (smile) Here's what Coats says about his book: 

 "When I began writing Original Sinners, I wanted to create something different, a study of Genesis that would not be doctrinal, that would be light but not lightweight, and relevant to modern life, whether the reader was religious or not. So, rather than following the usual path of focusing on the significance of the stories, I decided to employ the method of scriptural interpretation I learned almost forty years ago when a mentor taught me to focus on the characters in the stories, to look deeper, beneath the overlays of doctrine and history, and find their humanity. What do their stories reveal about motive, strength and weakness of character? What do their lives have in common with my life—with our common life? and, By studying their lives, might we learn about our own? What I found, again, was a humanity all too familiar in its flaws, its tragedy, yet moving, funny, and often outrageous—in other words, a humanity much like my own, and yours."[http://www.johnrcoats.com/about-the-book/]

Just to give you a little taste of his writing (because chances are you'll smile at my enthusiasm and move on to your own latest novel, or textbook, or whatever).

"Imagine yourself as the first human being. You've popped into the world inside the body of a full-grown adult. You've gone from being a nonbeing to being and become fully conscious, although you have no memories, no parents, no siblings, friends or enemies. No clothes and no language, though it seems reasonable that from thy bowels, as our Elizabethan ancestors were wont to say, would arise some expression of, What the' . . . ? as you stood, lay, or sat, blank-brained, absorbing those first burst of fivefold sensory input. This wordless sense of being and identity is just the sort of abstraction that your big Homo sapiens brain is designed to ponder and dissect. Advanced queries such as Who am I? and What am I? will follow, in time." [From the chapter Act One: Adam and Eve, but Mostly Eve: pg. 9, first paragraph.]

I fully intended to rant on about all the choices of tasks I found overwhelming each morning--the things that prevented me from writing a post in my blog. Instead, I've reviewed a wonderful book. A better choice, don't you think? (smile)

Bye for now. Enjoy life. 

WELL, HERE'S A DRAFT I STARTED SOME TIME AGO. NOW IT APPEARS THE ADMIN HAS SOLVED ALL MY HACKER PROBLEMS. THANKS!


I'm making progress. For every step backward, I'm taking one and a half forward. (smile) At the end of October, I picked up the travel trailer and towed it to the place near home where a good neighbor is allowing me to park it. That was the forward movement. Then, the backward step came when one of the tires blew itself to smithereens coming back from a trip to Camping World to get a few things up and running.

During all these steps forward and backward, I've had Nina with me sometimes or Douglas at other times. Don't know what I'd have done without them. They've given freely of their time, and I'll be eternally grateful. Douglas took all the tires home with him and, two days later brought the new ones, already installed on the wheels. He put the tires on and accompanied me back to the meadow. He has researched all kinds of information and is mentoring me in all the things I need to know and remember about caring for and traveling with my trailer.

One thing I've discovered is that those years traveling with Tony, pulling our 40' fifth-wheel, didn't make me all that knowledgeable about this trailer. Tony did most of the work that would have meant a lot to my new situation. I knew about many tasks, but I didn't assimilate the experience by doing things myself. So, I'm in learning mode.

As more progress comes to pass, I'll be back to update. Also, I guess I have to come every day to delete the hacker's posts.

Hey, it looks as though my blog has been cleaned of all the hacked entries! Hooray.

Got a good response about the eliminations of those unpleasant posts that appeared to come from me. Maybe all is well now.

I think I've regained a bit of control over my blog. The unwanted posts have been trashed, and I think I've set some instructions that ought to prevent further incursions. However, it may also prevent others from commenting. We'll see how it goes.

It's hard to believe it has been four months since I peeked in here, much less posted something. So, here it is in a nutshell.

I've taken a job as a cashier and all-around gofer at Ingles Supermarket. I hoped for an office position but, alas, I took this as a trade off for the gas I'll save. The store is just a half mile from my place of residence. I am enjoying meeting the people, and I'm told my "personality" is a plus. Or  maybe that's a way of remarking about how much I like to talk.The pay isn't overwhelming, but I enjoy seeing those weekly amounts slip into my checking account.

I'm approaching the time I'll be able to finish repairs on the Ford pickup, though I can't quite see over the "hill" between me and purchase of the travel trailer.

Sam Alexander finished the illustrations to be included in the re-publication of The Girl Who Dreamed of Ships. The Writer's Digest Self-Published Book Competition judge suggested I re-publish with a few additions to the story and a new, more colorful cover. Sam's drawings will add interest, too.

 

Old "dreary" cover (according to WD judge)

 
 Never a Drop of Seawater has hit a snag. My source for advice and encouragement about the island of Tristan da Cunha has not been exactly promising. Since my fictional tale is so closely woven into the actual events on the island, I'm finding it difficult to find my way through the tangle. It will come.

 

Tristan da Cunha Island

My cockatiels are doing well, though they are getting more and more demanding. They want out and I do like giving them a few minutes of flight time. The problem is:  A few minutes is not enough!

 

My Beautiful Turtle

(So what if she looked like a turtle when she hatched!)

Walter Pigeon-Toe/Miss Punkin' Pie/Sweet Beau Peep/Honey Penny/Turtle

 

 
Enough for tonight. Except to say, I have reserved the name SilverBee Publications LLC with the State of Tennessee and will complete the incorporation before April. 

 
Goodnight, ya'll!

PS The logo was designed by Donalie Beltran, author of prize-winning true-life tale, Murder is a Family Affair. Check it out!

PPS Looking for a good Indie author and books, check out www.bookco-op.com.

Interruptions

This short piece was to have been an entry to the Themed Short Story: Coffee Cup  on LinkedIn. It never made the 4000 character limit, so here it is. It might fit a post in Rambler's Rest.

Coffee Cup Interruptions

It's exactly 9:00 a.m. as I begin to write, hoping my brain will kick in before it becomes apparent I don't know what I want to say. It's hard to think when nine cockatiels are vocalizing. Of course, that's putting it mildly.

Don’t try to correct my syntax. I can’t speak or write without ending a sentence with a preposition. There will be more, and I hope now that you'll notice every one of them.

There is hardly a morning when standing in my doorway to check out the day doesn’t bring a tremendous sense of well-being. Air fresh and cool--sun about to lift above the hilltop--birds preempting my “firstness” to greet the morning. Today it was the towhee who has been hanging for several months. He's alone--never another of his kind around. He hangs out with the white-crowned sparrows I feed beneath the pepper tree. After an absence of several weeks, he decides to return today. I wish I could ask  where he’s been. Was he scouring the canyon for his soul mate? I feel sad that he's so alone, though pleased that he's found companionship with the sparrows. I think this is  called anthropomorphizing. He has entertained me battling  the bird in the mirrors on my truck. I’ve named him Quixote for his fruitless jousting with imaginings.

What has all this to do with interruptions? (I hope you caught that.) I've just been super aware this morning of how often I veer away from my intended course of action and am asking myself whether this is something new or have I always been this way--and, what's more, are other people just as prone to it as I am? Here is the meandering path I followed this morning.

Awake at 6:00. On the way to the bathroom, stopped to say good morning to the birds. Remembered I ought to put on water for coffee, so put off uncovering the birds. In the kitchen, decided I'd better get Lucy's water bowl out of the dishwasher and fill it in preparation for her arrival about 8:00. Decided it was really, really time to head on to the bathroom. Made it through the morning ablutions without interruption, except for Princess trotting through on her way to the utility porch potty box. Refreshed and ready for the day, I turned on the computer and started dressing while the machine slowly booted up.

Half dressed, I remembered that I needed to start a load of laundry, since I had muddied a couple of pair of jeans while planting acorns yesterday. Got the machine started and soap in the water but noticed that the cat's potty box needed cleaning and stopped to do that. Went into the bedroom to get a couple more things to go into the wash. Stopped to respond to computer stuff required to complete the boot. Put on my socks and shoes as long as I was sitting down. Decided to check email. Answered one from Chris. Remembered the clothes on my lap that needed to go into the washing machine. Managed to get those in on time. Decided I really ought to go to the dresser on the sun porch and get a T-shirt. Half-dressed doesn't really work. On the way through the kitchen, noticed that I hadn't put on the hot pot for coffee, so stopped to do that. Went on to get the T-shirt. Looked for a moment at the cards I want to send to someone who's had bad cancer news and a letter from old friend Lowell that I haven't answered yet. Resisted the temptation to do those two serious things as simple interruptions from trivial tasks.

Dressed, finally, I uncovered the birds, made sure they had clean water and food (will clean cages in a short while), and opened the blinds, the process that begins their day. (Bird food residue crunches underfoot, so I stop to sweep the floor, a chore that has to be repeated several times a day.) That's when I see Quixote (yes, I just now named him) scratching for food among the pepper tree detritus. You can always tell when there's not a lot there, because the little birds scratch and look, scratch and look, but rarely peck. So, I stopped sweeping to take out a cup of wild bird food. He flew away, but he'll be back. When I got back in the house, I noticed I hadn't spread up my bed clothes, so I did that and turned off my reading lamp. I started to go to the computer again but remembered the hot pot steaming away. Made coffee. On my way through the living room to the computer, I set the coffee cup down and finished sweeping. Then remembering the spillover of kitty litter next to the potty box, I went to the utility porch to sweep there.

By now, it's time for Lucy to arrive . . . and she does. Marcia doesn't come in as she's got to be on the road, but Lucy goes right to her water bowl and does her usual search for any tidbits of cat or bird food of interest. I spend a little time making her welcome and hearing her latest news--delivered as aarrroooo rowwww roooooo arrroooowww. She's quite accomplished in her linguistic abilities. In the meantime, my coffee is still on the little table. I forget about going to the computer and start searching for one of the six pairs of reading glasses I now own. Finally have to steal the ones I keep in the bathroom for doing crossword or sudoku puzzles, which means I'll eventually be looking for them again. (sigh) I sat down beside my coffee and picked up the Cockatiel magazine I bought at PetSmart on Wednesday. Coffee was really cool by now. After reading a couple of short articles, I remembered that I had begun this blog article. So, now I'm here with my nearly-iced coffee. And, by the way, I haven't even thought about breakfast yet.

I do enjoy these rambles and hope you do, too.

PS I know I've changed tenses several times. Would you believe it was part of my scheme to match my tenses with my theme? . . . I didn't think so. (smile)

Showing My Face

I'm still trying to discipline myself to keep up this blog and to set up what I've heard called a "hub" website to which all my more succinct posts on social media will point. That implies, of course, that I will keep a calendar dedicated to maintaining a schedule of tasks devoted to  website both current and interesting. 

In the meantime I'm doing research on campers and trailers and how to pick out the best unit for my travels, how to inspect and buy one, and how to pare down my possessions to fit inside one.

At the same time, Never a Drop of Seawater is coming along. It's exciting to see it moving toward completion.

I've met so many great people recently. I'll have to talk about them here soon. Right now it's definitely bedtime. So goodnight for now.

Beverly

 

This is the truck leaving its home in California. Its last long trip was carrying me, my nine birds, my cat Princess, an overloaded U-Haul trailer--and my sister Nina and I--to Tennessee. I've been here three and a half years now, happily ensconced in a studio apartment downstairs from my sis. It's been a good time, and my health has improved enough that the flame of adventure is luring me out of my comfort zone. The truck will take me traveling.

On the way, I and my six cockatiels will visit people and sights. During the time, I'll finish my second book to publish (Never a Drop of Seawater) and start on the next (maybe the first of a series about time-travel and girls with their horses). In addition, I'm hoping to find some telecommunications work--either ghost-writing or editing for others or whatever else might pop up.

I hope to have a following during my travels.

SilverBee 

 Words to the Wise

Letters, words, sentences, paragraphs, essays, stories, letters--
The circle leads us round and round, sometimes fast and others slow.
We fling about these products, not always wholly aware that they are nothing
Without the thoughts, ideas and the deep well of imagination we carry inside.

And where do those all come from, I ask, knowing full well the answer--
From the brain, that wonderful mass of convoluted tissue, not beautiful,
Nor is it particularly impressive or resplendent in shape or size.
Yet in this grayish blob are the elements that compel us to write.

I am seventy-five years old. I thought I'd always be the woman who worked hard,
Who tackled difficult tasks, ran businesses, gardened, and backpacked in the high Sierras?
Oh, I knew I'd slow down some, but where did this sudden halt come from?
Whence these strange words and phrases that come into my thoughts unbidden?

I'm still mentally competent, of course I am. That is evident in my writings if not my activities.
But when I'm engaged in some silent task, such as making a morning cup of instant coffee,
It seems as though someone in the background, turns the knob of some ancient radio,
Allowing a short burst of words and then as quickly turns the sound down again.

It isn't as though I can remember these phrases. By the time I pick up a pen to write,
Already the phrase has faded. I thought about a recorder, but speaking aloud would do the same.
And so I live with this strange other world. I suspect such mental events are the basis
For illnesses where voices command action or where God delivers messages to willing listeners.

But for me, grounded as I am in the sciences and psychology, they represent mental processes,
Maybe deteriorating processes, in my brain--my much-prized brain--that has led me
On a merry chase for reason, for beautiful scenery, for interesting companions,
And more than anything, for a life worth living. If something fades away, let it be all my regrets.

A NEW ADVENTURE

There's a new wind blowing in my dreaming. Anyone who knows me has seen my life change in many different directions. And I'm happy with all those twists and turns. Now I'm thinking of--and planning for-- another big one. The next few months are for getting ready and making definite plans. I hope everything will be in order by the first of 2014.

First, I'm getting fit. Silver Sneakers allows me to join a gym, which I did a week ago. I'm working on weight control, aerobics, strength training--all the things that will make my health better. 

Second, I'll be accumulating (saving, not spending) money. Every penny I can spare will go into my Preparation Fund.

Third, I'll get the truck healthy, too. It's a good truck, camper ready with all the hookups and connections. All it needs is some overdue maintenance, I'm hoping.

Fourth, I'm going to buy a used slide-in camper with the overhead bed compartment and everything I need to live in it. Then I'll make a modification inside to accommodate my birds--take out the overhead kitchen cabinets and build a wire cage in their places--with pull-out trays for cleaning.

Fifth, I'll hit the road and travel for as long as I'm able. Without the costs of a settled habitation, I'll be able to support myself on the road.

Sixth and most important is to clear out the little apartment that has been my home for the past three and a half years. Very little will fit in my rolling home. In fact, this part is already beginning and will continue for the entire time before my departure.

It won't be easy to say goodbye to my sweet sister and her three sons and their wives and kids. Being here close to them has been wonderful. But it's time for the next adventure to begin--and I'll be back this way again and again.

   

The Girl Who Dreamed of Ships is now a competitor in the 21st Annual Writer's Digest Self-Published Book Awards!

http://www.writersdigest.com/competitions/selfpublished

Wish me luck.

Well, I'm going to bite the $100 bullet and enter The Girl Who Dreamed of Ships in the Self-Published competition this year.

 

 

Self-Published Book Awards

Whether you’re a professional writer, a part-time freelancer or a self-starting student, here’s your chance to enter the premier self-published competition exclusively for self-published books. Writer’s Digest hosts the 21st annual self-published competition — the Annual Self-Published Book Awards. This self-published competition spotlights today’s self-published works and honors self-published authors.
Regular Deadline: May 1, 2013
Wondering what is in it for you?

• A chance to win $3,000 in cash
• Get national exposure for your work
• Catch the attention of prospective editors and publishers
• A paid trip to the ever-popular Writer’s Digest Conference in New York City!

How to enter: register and pay online or download a printable entry form. (Entry fees are $100 for the first entry, and $75 for each additional entry.)

Enter your book into one or more of these categories:

• Mainstream/Literary Fiction
• Genre Fiction
• Nonfiction
• Inspirational (Spiritual, New Age)
• Life Stories (Biographies, Autobiographies, Family Histories, Memoirs)
• Children’s/Picture books
• Middle-Grade/Young Adult books
• Reference Books (Directories, Encyclopedias, Guide Books)
• Poetry

One Grand Prize Winner will receive:

• $3,000 cash and a trip to the Writer’s Digest Conference in New York City
• A priceless endorsement for their book from the Writer’s Digest Editors–10 copies of their book for submission to major publishing review houses.
• A one-year membership for Independent Book Publishers Association (IBPA), the largest not-for-profit trade association representing more than 3,000 independent book publishers, courtesy of Brian Jud & Book Marketing Works, LLC.
• Guaranteed acceptance in a special sales catalog and national representation through 1,800 salespeople who sell to non-bookstore markets, courtesy of Brian Jud & Book Marketing Works, LLC.
• A one-year membership to Author-U, courtesy of Brian Jud & Book Marketing Works, LLC.
• A copy of Show Me About Book Publishing and consultation with Book Shepherd Judith Briles (valued at $500), courtesy of Brian Jud & Book Marketing Works, LLC.
• A guaranteed review in Midwest Book Review, courtesy of Brian Jud & Book Marketing Works, LLC.
  

Nine First-Place Winners will receive:

• $1,000 cash and promotion in Writer’s Digest
• A one-year membership to Small Publishers Association of North America (SPAN), courtesy of Brian Jud & Book Marketing Works, LLC.
• A guaranteed review in Midwest Book Review, courtesy of Brian Jud & Book Marketing Works, LLC.
  
• A one-year membership to Book Central Station where you can find lists of suppliers rated by previous clients, provided by Brian Jud & Book Marketing Works, LLC.
• An ebook titled Beyond the Bookstore by Brian Jud (with CD).

All Grand Prize and First Place winners will:

• Be featured on the Writer’s Digest website
• Receive a copy of The Complete Guide to Self-Publishing, 4th Edition by Tom and Marilyn Ross.
• $100 worth of Writer’s Digest Books

Honorable Mention Winners will receive $50 worth of Writer’s Digest Books and be promoted on www.writersdigest.com.

All other entrants will receive a brief commentary from the judges along with a link to the entrant’s website (only if the URL is accurate) on writersdigest.com.

Check out the winners and entrants from the 20th annual competition