—written by Beth Ann Fiedler ©2006 Beth Ann Fiedler
You remember the childhood story, “The Emperor’s New Clothes”written by Hans Christian Andersen.
For years, I felt that the people who pretended to see the Emperor in new clothes were shallow and stupid. Then, I thought that many would deem me stupid for having the guts to say that he was naked. (more…)
I found this story in my files. A couple of weeks ago I’d spoken to Emily on the phone. She’s grown up now, with a child of her own. I hope her son enjoys this little story written by his mother when she was just a child herself. (This was first posted in Volume I of the Beanery Online Literary Magazine)
To view photo illustration scroll down after clicking on http://www.flickr.com/photos/beaneryonlineliterarymagazine
and/or
One morning Miss Emily got up and went to play in her toy bucket.
“YUCH,” said Miss Emily. “There is something in the toy bucket I’m afraid of. It has big legs and it looks SCARY. THROW IT AWAY, ‘cause I’m getting scareder.”
“Emily, It’s only a plastic toy spider. It won’t hurt you.”
“But I’m scared.”
“A toy won’t hurt you,” I told her. “It somebody wants to scare you with a toy spider you don’t want to be afraid, because they would continue to try to scare you. Some kids thing it’s fun to scare other kids this way.”
“GET THAT SPIDER OUT OF HERE!”
“Emily, how many legs does this spider have?” (more…)
—written by Kathleen Clark 1-01-08
Milky-white, ghostly skies, branches tossing fitful in the wind,
waiting for the promised onslaught to begin. . .
Snow globe flakes drifting, swirling, drifting,
the scenery enhanced by their lazy dance.
Birds struggle to survive the bitter cold, (more…)
Although most writers are familiar with interviewing techniques, reviewing them is a good reminder. Our topic for the January 25, 2008, Beanery Writers Group meeting was just that—a review of some of the characteristics of a good interview. —written by Carolyn C. Holland
While writing for the Fay-West, my editor asked me to do an article on Bob and his retirement. When we met at a local fast food restaurant, we sat down and began talking—that is, I began talking. He remained mute. I soon realized that he wasn’t going to talk, much less answer any questions I might have for him.
I recalled an adoption home-study I while working for an adoption agency. The couple was petrified. I understood—to them, I had the power to determine their future. When I realized they weren’t going to cooperate in the interview, I made a difficult decision. I broke an interview rule and my “professionalism,” by sharing my personal story, since at the time, my adoption application was being investigated by a different agency in the county in which I lived. (more…)
The Beanery Writers Group will meet on January 25 at the Coffee Bean Cafe (meeting room) on Route 30 in Latrobe. Although the meeting is scheduled from 1:00 to 3:00, some persons gather during the hour beforehand for coffee and/or sustenance and conversation.
For further information contact Carolyn C. Holland at beanerywriters@yahoo.com
“Love” is not now just a four letter word. It is a three letter word, and that word is God, notes Robert (Bob) A. Woodall, a Laughlintown (former Laurel Mountain Boro) PA resident in the introduction to his book on Christian poems, LET MIND GIVE WAY TO HEART. From time to time, the Online Literary Magazine will publish selections from his book.
Woodall is currently a resident in a nursing home. His wife gave permission for us to post his work.
—written by robert a. woodall
A natural law and order marks
the science that we know,
And that’s the way things are, perhaps,
because God made it so.
Sometimes seemingly imperfect,
it’s so hard to understand
How God, in all His mercy,
can let fate play out its hand.
Perhaps He works according to
some rules He hasn’t shown. (more…)
—written by Beth Ann
On Christmas in 1999, my mother passed away. Sure, they left her on the support system until December 26 at about12:30pm…but she was gone on Christmas. I could feel it with my heart and with my spirit when she left this earth and then, that was it. Like a flick of light passing through me…or was it before me? Sort of like a door opening and a final wave good-bye. No, I am not new age…but I do believe that there is a spirit in each of us that must find a final resting place. It was her time to rest.
My mom was 73 when she passed and had done the best that she could with what she had been given. Or, more appropriately, made the best that she could from what she could make of what she had been given. She barely had a semester of high school but she was well read (on her own), did math in a split second and loved to write. She also had a knack for cooking. She could feed an entire family and half the neighborhood on a piece of chicken, a slice of bread, parsley and some kind of a noodles and sauce combination that she made from scratch. It might have been the same flour and water, but it never seemed like the same thing. (more…)
—written by Carolyn C. Holland
In writing my historic romance novel, circa 1790s, I struggled to determine a starting point. After doing much research, I realized that all the characters appearing in the beginning of the novel had witnessed the Fall of the Bastille in France on July 14, 1789. I decided to have them sharing their experiences several weeks later as they imbibed in chocolate coffee, a popular drink in Paris at that time.
I researched eyewitness and news accounts of the event in preparation for writing their conversation. One comment intrigued me. It referred to the days of the warring as The Night and Orcus. What did this mean?
I typed “Orcus” into the computer search engine (more…)
Heartbeat is a poem by visiting youth writer, Kait. Enjoy!
Fast break down the court
It’s the thing… its fast
Bubum… Bubum… Bubum…
Harmony to the basketball
Adrenaline racing
Bubum…Bubum…Bubum…
Run…5…Pass…4…Shoot…
3…2…1…Swish! Score!
Victory with the basket!
Victory over our rival! At Last!
To read SNOW N’ICE by Kathleen visit the Beanery Online Literary Magazine, Vol. 1, at http://www.ProBlogs.com/beanerywriters and scroll down to the poem.
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