Tag Archives: inspiration

Descent Book Review

I read the novel Descent on a whim at the recommendation of a coworker and a student in one of my summer classes.  It was a page-turner to rival the likes of James Patterson.  What I wasn’t expecting was the surprisingly intricate prose.  I was reminded of F. Scott Fitzgerald.

The subject matter was dark, but written gorgeously. While on vacation in the mountains, a teenage girl goes on a run with her younger brother following on a bike for protection.  Disastrously, the brother is injured and the girl is kidnapped.  This is not too much of a spoiler since it occurs in the first few pages of the novel.  The rest of the book is varying accounts told from the perspectives of each family member (and others) spanning several years of searching for the girl, dealing with life without her, and hoping she’s still alive.

The characters are well-developed and each of their motivations, fears, and doubts is picked apart like clues at a crime scene.  Several themes that stood out for me were the ways in which we cope with tragedy, the power of survival instinct, and the lengths we go to for those we love.

Some of the scenes were too intense, gruesome, and mature for children.  One brutal rape scene in particular is much too graphic to be allowed in my psych facility school library.    But that intensity is part of what made the book hard to put down.

This DESCENT into depravity is paired with breathtaking views of snow-capped mountains, deep ravines, and forests.  Whether by escape, rescue, or death, the reader needs resolution of some kind, any kind, which makes the book impossible to put down.

 

Convocation

Some coworkers and I have traveled to San Antonio to stay the night in a hotel.  Tomorrow is our convocation – that is a fancy name for first day back to work for teachers.  We will all come together in a conference room or hotel ballroom of some sort and listen to speakers motivate us, tell us how wonderful we are for choosing our profession, how special our kids are, and how unique our school district is because of our mission.

I happen to love these sappy moments of reveling in the greatness that is a room full of teachers gearing up for a new school year.  It feels like a locker room pre-game.  Everyone is excited and talkative, getting pumped up for a win.  The band is warming up, the cheerleaders are doing a dance routine, the crowd is buying snacks and settling into their seats…

Do they still pray before sports games?  They did when I was in school in the south and I always loved the moment an entire crowd grew silent, listening to someone’s plea for safety and sportsmanship, hoping GOD would take the time to drop by for the game.

That is how these things feel to me…almost holy.  Some teachers have confided in me that they hate these events, find them silly, wish money were spent more wisely, feel demeaned by team-building.  I guess I am fodder for the peddling preacher that is a school superintendent.  I want to believe that what we do is holy.  I want to believe that GOD is in my classroom filling the space between outbursts and anger, fear and refusal.  That the kids whose lives will touch mine will be bathed in grace and sent back out into the world nourished…or at least comforted.

I hope every teacher out there preparing for our next batch of kids gets the chance to feel encouraged, valued, and inspired at their convocation.  It is a uniquely teacher-y thing that I for one am glad exists.

 

My First Book Sale

This morning I had tea with my mother Cyndee and sister Robyn.  My mother made breakfast to order – a lovely omelet for me and a waffle for my sister.  We had a nice visit and I showed off my new book that arrived in the mail.  It feels good to hold the physical manifestation of so much hard work in my hands.

And that is where I sold my first ever novel…to my mom.  🙂

I am not proud of every part of the story I wrote.  I am not pleased with every piece of dialogue.  There are plot holes.  I couldn’t decide on the ending.  A few of my characters are not well-developed.  I could have gone so much deeper with the idea behind the title.  The list could go on.

I am very proud of finishing.  I am proud of editing, formatting, setting up an account with Amazon kindle, and a bank account to deposit all of my cents into.  I am proud of all the hours I put in, all the energy, creativity, emotion, and focus it took to make it happen.  And I am beyond proud to have met a goal I set for myself many years ago of publishing.

Today was a good day.  And I really don’t care if I ever sell another one of these books.  I am a published author.  I write books.

Writer’s Group at Cuppa Austin

I am experiencing my first Writer’s Group that Lori invited me to. at Cuppa Austin on Parmer close to Mopac. It is a nice little coffee shop. I got a breakfast taco, hot tea, and iced tea. They have a selection of loose teas to choose from and the baristas were cheerful. My kind of place.

We have a row of tables and 7 people have shown up so far. This is already more successful than any Writer’s Groups I’ve ever hosted. No one talks. They just work. It seems like a productive group. I have gotten four chapters edited. I am now halfway finished editing my BlackIce novel. Making progress!

And yesterday, my best friend Erica helped me get my website “landing” page set up so when people go to marshallpress.net they will see something (instead of a fake page.)

I Started a Publishing Business!

Marshall Press

book-1171221

Today was exhausting!  I am about to fall in bed, but must share the victories of my day.

  • Set up my address for Marshall Press at the post office.
  • Got my dba (doing business as) paperwork filed with the county for Marshall Press (which is good for the next 10 years.)
  • Opened a bank account for Marshall Press with a company VISA and everything!
  • Set up my account with my new banking information for publishing with Kindle Create / Amazon Kindle Direct Publishing.
  • Purchased marshallpress.net domain name for the next 10 years from NameCheap.
  • Created an account on Bluehost for my marshallpress website to be hosted for the next year.
  • Created an account with FreeImages to be able to use lovely images on my sites.

There is still more to do, but that is all for one day.  I am going to relax in my comfy quarters for the last night of my retreat and enjoy one more glorious morning of tea and writing when I awake.

Writer’s Retreat

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I rented a cabin on a river to do a 4-day Writer’s Retreat. I am on day 2 and have finally gotten into an actual honest-to-goodness project that resembles both productivity and creativity.

I took a break and looked back at some old posts on this blog. I found one from 4 years ago dreaming of doing a cabin in Colorado someday for the entire summer. That is still on my to-do list, but I don’t know if I would want to be without my sweet husband for 3 whole months. He has kind of grown on me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The lighting was too bright, so I created my own stained glass window.  Intermittent rain on a metal roof has been music to my ears. 

I have a little air conditioner and two fans creating the necessary chill factor to keep me comfortable and my favorite snacks and beverages to keep me fueled.  Of course hot tea is at the ready.

Nature has invaded my domicile twice now.  I’m hoping that is as bad as it gets.  Otherwise, the accommodations are quite satisfactory. 

BlackIce mock cover                                                                                    

This is the novel I have decided to focus on as my project.  It is an old one I wrote in 2008.  A colleague made the cover.  

I am on the editing and revising stage – about 1/4 of the way through.  Once done, I have to put together the front and back matter (dedication, copyright, about the author, etc.)  Then I plan to upload my first ever book for publishing.  It is actually coming together.

I’m thinking of different names for different genres – too confusing?

R. Marshall – YA

Mrs. Marshall – Children’s Books

Juanece – Romance

  • My thinking is that kids who love a chapter book about 3rd graders won’t accidentally stumble upon a wild adult romance novel.
  • Teens looking for age-appropriate adventure won’t get tricked into baby stuff.
  • It could possibly keep my different writing age groups separate and safe.  
  • Just something I’ve been mulling over for a while now.

Creative Project

My best friend convinced me to participate in a project combining my poems with her photographs.  I sent her this poem and she found the perfect photograph to go with it.

Lifted gently from my bed,

I dangle in your arms

safe and peaceful

riding dreams of breezy nonchalance

inside acorns of emotion.

Tiny kernels of light

speck frozen in vision’s grasp

just on the edge of horizon

the edge of reality

the edge of self.

A merging of wellness

and pain, fate and chance…

simplified seconds that

encapsulate infinity

between beats of my heart.

Each outward breath fills the universe

with life, spaces out the stars,

until the drawing in again

collapses solar systems,

visits death on the unsuspecting.

And as I lay me down you keep

my soul, my LORD,

my love in sleep.

-Rebekah J. Marshall

bitties

Photograph by Erica Smith. http://thebitties.squarespace.com/new-blog/

 

Creative Project

rose dying

Photograph by Erica Smith.  http://thebitties.squarespace.com/

My best friend convinced me to participate in a project combining my poems with her photographs.  She sent me this rose and I had to write a paragraph about it.

Aging gracefully is overrated –

probably perported

by the stoic who know no other way.

Can’t a compromise be reached

between classy and ridiculous?

Let me wear sandals in winter

and white in the fall if I

have the notion.

I’ll refrain from telling you your business

if you forgive my lapses of social etiquette.

Let me grow round and happy,

be silly in love like a school girl,

and I’ll still sip tea on Sunday afternoons

as expected.

I happen to enjoy tea

anytime

anywhere

for any reason.

But you can think it is because

I am being proper

if that makes you happy.

And we can both be content

in the end because we

lived lives full of what

we deemed valuable.

All of our loveliness will shrivel,

but the fragrance of our souls

will linger in the smiles of our

children and grandchildren

and the stories they tell of us.

I want my story memories

to be adventures

full of laughter,

not faded photographs

posed with ankles crossed,

pearls placed just so.

-Rebekah J. Marshall

 

Mother of the Year

IMG_2268

So…disregard my last post.  Apparently, my daughter appreciates and loves me with all her heart.  She even claims to be following in my footsteps in her attempts to be a good parent to her own daughter.

She gave me a beautiful little collection of gifts for Mother’s Day and wrote sweet lines in a Wonder Woman card.  She even went to the effort to have my granddaughter “write”/scribble in a card.  I was moved to tears.

In her forgetfulness, she dropped it off at my house, but accidentally left it in a spare room instead of putting it somewhere I would find easily.  She finally asked if I liked my presents via text and I was quite confused.  Was she joking?  Did her text count as a present?  I’m not even really a present person – or at least I didn’t think I was.  I like words, sweet words in a card, letters, songs and stories, or good conversation over tea.  That is what makes me feel loved and cared for.  That, and acts of service (if we’re talking the love languages.)

Once the confusion was cleared up, I had the best belated Mother’s Day ever.  She quoted the poem “Walk a little slower, Mom, for my feet are small.  I’m following in your footsteps and I don’t want to fall…”  The card featured Wonder Woman and said “Superheroes don’t always have a secret identity…sometimes they just go by Mom.”

She gave me some cute little jewelry items and a plaque that says, “The Best Moms get Promoted to Grandma.”  My favorite is a journal.  Inside she taped ticket stubs of movies we went to over the years as she was growing up.  It was very thoughtful and took some planning.  It was movies like Race to Witch Mountain, various Twilight movies, Harry Potter movies, The Help, Salt, Pitch Perfect, etc.  Then, sprinkled throughout the journal are fortunes from fortune cookies she saved over the years and quotes from wrappers of Dove candies and various other types of saying.  On one page she drew a lovely little turtle mama holding her turtle baby on her back.  I’ve always called her my baby turtle.

I’m still glad I broke down that dilapidated old rocking chair.  It was an eye sore and a hazard.  It is time for rose colored lenses, as one of her quotes says in the journal.  I am ready to start making my life beautiful, and some of that beauty might just come from re-framing my perspectives.

 

Mother’s Day Fail

IMG_2264

These are the remaining pieces of a symbol of my failure as a parent.  Let me explain…

Prior to the birth of my first child 20 years ago, I had this idea of taking photos in a rocking chair.  It was similar to my dreams of keeping photo albums of my kids, making quilts of their little outfits, framing their artwork to hang around the house, being a stay-at-home mom, and homeschooling.  Ummm…much of that did not happen, at least not to any success.  However, I did buy a rocking chair that I found second hand and spruced it up with pillows.  For the first few months and years of my kids lives, pictures were taken.  I have no idea where they are.  I’ll find them someday.  The chair followed us from house to house, but the picture idea was forgotten over time.  I chalk it up to laziness, forgetfulness, uncooperative non-participants in my household, but mostly, weariness.

Parenting never turned out to be as much fun as I imagined.  My co-parent ex-husband and I could not agree on anything, my kids found all of my ideas unpalatable, and I had to work two jobs just to pay the bills, which left very little time for arts and crafts.  Also, turns out, I hate arts and crafts, scrap booking, photography, homeschooling, and quilting.

Long story short, my kids are adults now and trying to make it as grown ups.  They resent me for never letting them have t.v., forcing religion on them, being poor, and who knows what else, but I know they also love and respect me.  I am the one they call in the middle of the night when they need someone the most.  They texted me for Mother’s Day.  They are not really at a place in their lives where I can expect gifts or cards or dinner out.  They are in survival mode.

Instead, I spent all day in my pajamas watching Netflix, writing, reading, and sipping hot tea on my back porch as it rained softly.  The eyesore that used to be my rocking chair sat in pieces taunting me for the first few hours.  I asked my husband if he knew what happened and he said that the back of the chair just slid off.  I’m not sure how the back of a chair just slides off, but that’s what he said.  It struck me that tomorrow would be recycle day and if I could fit the pieces of the rocking chair into the recycle bin, I could dispose of it.

Without thinking, I began tearing it apart.  I expected to feel sad, angry, disappointed, or some such other negative feeling.  Instead, I really didn’t feel much of anything.  I think part of me is tired of feeling regret, shame, and anger about the past.  Maybe I am numb.  Maybe I’m in denial and will feel something later.  I think I’ve just accepted that in the area of parenting, I have failed more than I have succeeded.  So, the rocking chair is disposed of and I’m planning to find a softer, more comfortable outdoorsy chair that I can share with my sweet new husband and my adorable granddaughter.

And if either of my kids decide to come over for a visit sometime, maybe they’ll let me take a picture of them in my new chair.