Showing posts with label #travel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label #travel. Show all posts

Sunday, March 24, 2024

My Poetry Moment by Joan Donaldson-Yarmey

 



https://books2read.com/The-Travelling-Detective-Boxed-Set

https://bwlpublishing.ca/donaldson-yarmey-joan/

 

My Poetry Moment

     Over my writing career I have had articles, short stories, travel books, and mystery, young adult, and science fiction novels published. And one poem. When that one poem was accepted for publication, I felt I had taken my writing to another level. I decided, though, that my contribution was going to be different, that I was going to take the poetry community by storm. I wanted to make my mark, to stand out in the poetry world. And to do that I came up with a new poetry sub-genre that I called Script Poetry. Just like a movie script I set up the scene and the tone for the poem and give some background of the story in the poem by using a script layout. It made the whole poem more visual and that way I could get right to the meat of what I wanted to say.

     I enthusiastically sent out my script poems and waited for the accolades to come in.

     Surprisingly, the publishers were not as galvanized about this new style of poetry as I was. No one accepted them for publication.

     But never underestimate the power of a script poet scorned. At the same time as I was planning my burst onto the poetry stage, I was writing my mystery novel "The Only Shadow In The House," the second book of The Travelling Detective Series. I gave one of my characters the career of a poet and her specialty was Script Poetry. Needless to say the publishers and critics in my fictional world were highly impressed with the poems. The poetry was very popular with the reading public and the poetress won many awards.

     To quote from my book: One critic wrote that her poems have an innovative, revolutionary style that is shaking the foundations of the conventionally staid poetry community, while another critic called them insightful and powerful.

     I have taken one of the script poems from that novel for you to judge for yourself.

 

Fade In

Act One

Exterior-Farm House-Night.

There is snow on the ground. Stars twinkle in the clear, night sky. A vehicle pulls into the yard and a woman climbs out. She stares at the house then takes a deep breath. She releases it in a vapour. With slow tread she climbs up the steps and enters the darkened house. Inside, she stops and listens.

 

There is no noise in my house, it is dark and silent.

Today, I buried you. Is this what it is like in your grave,

total quiet, total darkness?

I flip on the light and wander the house

looking at the possessions that

represented a life that never existed,

except in my own mind.

This has been our home for nineteen years

but it now feels alien to me.

Because from now on I know that mine

will be the only shadow in the house.

I must leave here soon.

 

End Act One

Fade Out

 

Fade In

Act Two

Interior-Farm House- Night.

All the lights are on in the house. The woman is in the kitchen. She pushes over the shelving holding plant seedlings and pots. She heads to the dining room and goes to a china cabinet with no doors. All the shelves hold figurines and dishes and knick knacks. They crash to the floor with a sweep of her hand. The ones that don’t break, disintegrate under her foot.

 

“Damn you, Ben. Damned you to hell!” I yell.

I want you to hear. I want you to know

the sorrow and the pain you have brought me.

I go from room to room, expunging.

I spray your shaving cream on the walls.

I dump your aftershave in the tub.

I grab a knife and shred your clothes.

Finally, there is nothing of yours left.

I feel some satisfaction.

You destroyed my life and now I have

destroyed everything that represented yours.

“There you bastard,” I say. “Rot in hell.”

 

Fade Out

End Act Two

 

Fade In

Act Three

Interior-Farm House- Night

The woman is standing in front of a picture on the living room wall. The furniture and floor are littered with debris. She takes the picture off the hook and stares at it a long time.

 

I find our wedding photograph on the wall.

I’d had it enlarged for our tenth anniversary

as my loving gift to you.

Were you as pleased as you said you were

or was that just a sham?

I smash the glass against the corner of the table.

I cut my finger removing the shards.

I look at you smiling back at me.

Were you an impostor in our marriage?

For now I wonder how many other

women did you see over our nineteen years.

I slash the picture with the knife. How symbolic.

 

End Act Three

Fade Out


Sunday, September 10, 2023

When My Muse Sings to Me - Barbara Baker

 

Ticket in hand. Check. Suitcase packed. Check. Off to Drumheller, Alberta I go.

If you’ve read the acknowledgements in my books, you know who I’m going to see. And I’m pretty darn excited.

The concert will be in the Badlands Amphitheatre which is a stunning acoustical marvel. The Amphitheatre was established in 1991 specifically for performances of the Passion Play. In 2015 they opened the stage to outdoor concerts as well. 



I’ve sat breathless through many Passion Play performances, but tonight I’m going to rock the night away with my muse. The first time I saw Johnny Reid perform was in 2007. It was a blustery spring day at the Sunshine Village Ski Resort. He sang on a tiny outdoor stage surrounded by snow. A very different venue from today. 

Tonight, the air is warm. The clouds are high. People wiser than me carry in cushions for the rustic wooden seats. The opening performer, Martin Kerr, is awesome and I make a note to add him to my iTunes. 


Unfortunately, he doesn’t come back for an encore. After he leaves the stage 2,500 fans hoot and holler for the main act. 

And out comes Johnny Reid. The cheers and his songs echo across the hoodoos. Bodies sway. Mouths move. Hands clap. I am caught up in this perfect place with wonderful friends listening to his familiar tunes. And out of nowhere, a title pops into my head for my next novel. How cool is that?

For those who have never heard him sing, this is how the New York Post describes Johnny Reid - “Take a pinch of Bruce Springsteen, a dash of Bob Seger and enough Rod Stewart to give the mix vocal gravel, and you start to get the vibe of this Scottish-born singer/songwriter.”

After a few songs Johnny Reid walks to the front of the stage and says, “Some of you men look like me father did when me mum dragged him to concerts.” He crosses his arms and puts on a grumpy face. “I hope your night gets a wee bit better.” People glance around (possibly looking for the grumpy old men) and laugh.

 

The songs, the energy from everyone on stage, the spotlight on band members - its captivating. My favourite song plays, and tears roll down my cheeks. Then we follow Johnny's instructions and gestures as he teaches us a chorus to a popular tune. The band starts up again. Johnny starts singing. When it’s our turn, he waves us in, and he stops singing. Our voices are the only ones booming across the landscape. Eerily magical. 

And before I know it, he’s thanking everyone for coming out. He’s thanking Alberta for inviting him to this amazing place. The band and him wave goodbye and walk off stage.

No way.

The crowd stands. Whistles pierce the air. I add to it because, if I do say so myself, I’ve got one hell of a solid two finger whistle. And back they come for one last song. Happy sad sigh. Until next time Johnny Reid. And there will be a next time. 

 

You can contact me at: bbaker.write@gmail.com

Summer of Lies: Baker, Barbara:9780228615774: Books - Amazon.ca

What About Me?: Sequel to Summer of Lies : Baker, Barbara: Amazon.ca: Books

 

 

 

 

 

Monday, July 10, 2023

Pedal the Highwood Pass – Kananaskis Country / by Barbara Baker

 





Every June, before Hwy 40 is open to vehicles for the summer, my husband and I ride the road from the Peter Lougheed Provincial Park to the Highwood Pass (highest paved pass in Canada). David and I take off earlier on our x-country bikes because we haven’t crossed over to road bikes or electric bikes yet like our friends have.

 
Do I love this ride? I’d be a liar if I said yes. But I do love parts of it. Like near the beginning where there is a downhill. The scenery is breathtaking. I love the feeling of accomplishment when I get to the top. And the descent is a thrill. But the grueling uphill makes me want to swear. A lot.

After the initial downhill, I check my odometer. 5.3 km. Only 11.7 km to go. Insert a big sigh.

There’s lots of bear scat on the highway. I scan the blooming dandelion filled ditches for movement. The jagged peaks of the Eastern Slopes make the plate shifting events more visible and there’s little snow on top because it’s been an unseasonably hot spring.

“Drink lots of water,” David reminds me.

I nod and force myself not to look at the odometer until the next corner.

Our friends pedal with us for a few minutes of chatter.

“If it’s cold at the top, don’t wait for us,” I say.  “Just photoshop us into the group picture.”

Off they go. Part of me wishes I hadn’t said no to the e-bike for my 65th birthday. I was adamant I didn’t want one until I turn 70. I’m not quite so adamant right now.

When I see more bear scat, I run the bear rule scenarios through my head. If it’s a grizzly, don’t look them in the eyes. They feel it’s a challenge. If it’s a black bear, look tall, speak with confidence and make slow movements to retreat. If it’s a momma bear of any type and I’m between her and the cubs, kiss my ass goodbye. The visual of me kissing my ass goodbye makes me chuckle. The bear scenario – not so much.

 

My eyes peek at the odometer. 12.3 km. If I round down to 11, I have further to go but if I round up to 13, who will pedal the extra .7 km? I chastise myself for checking the distance again.

A group of road bikers zip past and say, “Good job.”

I force a smile and glance at David. “Would this really be faster if I was on a road bike?”


“Yup.” 


“But this is the only time I ride on a road.”

“Yup.”

“I need a break.” I quit pedaling and coast to a stop. “My crotch and toes are numb.”

It takes a few seconds to get the prickles out of my foot before I can set the other one on the pavement. We both do our own version of stretches, eat a granola bar and wash it down. Off we go again. Only 3 kilometers left and a short flat stretch ahead. I stand and pedal until the uphill starts.

I start to count the pedal rotations to see how many it takes to make a kilometer. But I get lost around 276. Don’t look at the odometer. Focus on the line in the middle of the road. The hill is endless and after yet another corner, at the top of the hill, I see a sign. I KNOW that sign.

Tiny people wave. Crank. Crank. Do it. Just do it. Don’t stop now.

And there we are, in time for the group photo. 

After a quick sandwich, I put on all my warm layers, get one last picture taken and start the thrill of the downhill.

                                               
                                 2017                                                                    2023

I feather my brakes when I get to 52 km/hour. There’s no time to take in the scenery now as tears run down my cheeks.

You can contact me at: bbaker.write@gmail.com

Summer of Lies: Baker, Barbara:9780228615774: Books - Amazon.ca

What About Me?: Sequel to Summer of Lies : Baker, Barbara: Amazon.ca: Books


Sunday, July 10, 2022

Road Trip by Barbara Baker


Going to Lethbridge, Alberta. Those familiar with Alberta geography might say ‘why’. Others might suggest putting rocks in my pocket. Both are valid statements.

First stop, Head-Smashed-In Buffalo Jump - a UNESCO World Heritage site west of Fort MacLeod. The site preserves and interprets over 6,000 years of Blackfoot culture. According to the legend, a young boy wanted to see what it looked like when buffalo fell over the cliff. After the carcasses were removed, they found the boy’s body. The buffalo piled so high they smashed his head into the face of the cliff.

As I read the plaques along the trail, I try to imagine what the first buffaloes felt when they realized going over the cliff was inevitable. Or would a buffalo realize their demise was imminent?

The views across the plains are endless to the east and west. The lemon-yellow buffalo bean leans in the breeze and mixes with the wild rose scent as the landscape runs into the snow-covered Rockies.

After a quick lunch stop, we head for our destination. Lucky for me, there is road construction outside Lethbridge and it’s at the best vantage point for a picture of the train trestle referred to as the High Level Bridge. I jump out of the car, dash to the edge of the ridge, snap a few pictures and am back in my seat before the flag person waves us on.

I came here to learn about fossils. As a newbie rockhound with a ‘still shiny’ rock hammer, I’m keen to have fossil names roll off my tongue. If they didn’t have so many syllables it would be a lot easier – Brachiopoda, Articulata, Pachyrhinosaurus. I can remember red rock is pomegranates, but it took me a few times to realize ‘never take me for granite’ is rockhound humour. Also…faults, plates and shifts sound impressive if I could just remember the right sequence which creates the seam I stand on.

The specific type of rock I want to find is called Ammonite. To be honest, unless it’s stamped on the rock ‘I’M AN AMMONITE’, I’m not sure I’d recognize a fossil. But I love being outside and like shiny things so I’m game to see what I can find.

            Spring run off hasn’t started which makes it easy to walk along the wide banks of the Oldman River. With safety glasses on, I smash rock in the bank and watch it crumble. Nothing. I crack boulders as a pair of adult geese and 18 goslings float by. They make me thankful I only have three kids.

Bald eagles scout out their next meal as I roll stones over.

Trails run up the banks and into the river valley. A couple mountain bikes zip by. A fisherman with the biggest smile waves a large whitefish at us. More rock smashing and then around the corner, I see a cliff. Even in my newbie rockhound status, I can tell the layers in the face are different. Too bad it’s across the river. Apparently, people have found shark teeth in the sediment.

I did not find any Ammonites but am pleased with the lava rock (almost light as a feather) and worm fossils I uncovered. A fun and educational road trip with great food along the way and, of course, red wine.

Where are you going? If you could go anywhere, where would you end up?



Summer of Lies: Baker, Barbara:9780228615774: Books - Amazon.ca

Summer of Lies - YouTube

Smashwords – About Barbara Baker, author of 'Summer of Lies'

Barbara Wackerle Baker | Facebook

Barbara Wackerle Baker (@bbaker.write)

         bbaker.write@gmail.com

 

 

Monday, January 24, 2022

New Years Resolutions and My Writing by Joan Donaldson-Yarmey

 



 

 

http://bwlpublishing.ca/authors/donaldson-yarmey-joan/

 

Almost everyone makes New Year’s Resolutions and we writers are no different. Resolutions could be described as promise made by a person to change themselves or something in their lives for the better. It could be volunteering at a charity, spending more time in nature, or cutting down on stress. This change begins on New Year’s Day and is supposed to last for the year.

While making a New Year's Pledge is a custom observed mainly in the Western Hemisphere, it is becoming more popular in the Eastern Hemisphere.

The top ten resolutions are said to be: spend more time with loved ones; get in shape through exercise; lose weight; travel more; quit smoking; stop drinking; enjoy life more; read more; pay off bills; learn something new.

I don't smoke and seldom drink, so I can take those off my list but this is how the rest of those resolutions relate to my writing.

      Spending more time with loved ones:

Writing is a solitary undertaking. I sit in a room alone with my computer (some writers use pen and paper.) I don’t like to be disturbed because that disturbance usually comes when I am right in the middle of a scene and I want to get it all down the way I am visualizing it. In order to spend more time with loved ones, I have tried to set up a schedule of writing in the morning and having the afternoon and evening free. Sometimes that works and sometimes it doesn't. If my writing is going slow then it may encroach into the afternoon in order to get my time in. But when there are family events, my writing takes a back burner. Memories of spending time with kids, grandkids and now great-grandkids are so much better then memories of staring at a computer. I read an article about one best-selling writer. Her son asked her if she would go to his baseball game. She said she couldn’t because she had to work on her next great book. I understand a deadline but I thought that was a lost opportunity on her part.

        Getting in shape through exercise.

I spend my writing time sitting in a chair. If the story line is going well, I want to keep at it to the detriment of other activities, so I schedule my exercising as soon as I get up in the morning. I am able to do that because I have a set of weights at home that I use so I don't have to go to a gym and I walk in the afternoons and evenings.

        Losing weight.

Hunger distracts me when I am writing. I find that I write better if I have a full stomach, usually full of chocolates, but anything works. To offset that I try to stop eating after 6pm and go for a walk after supper.

       Enjoy life more and travel more.

For me, these two go hand in hand. I love travelling whether its by motorhome, flying, bus tour, or ship all of which I have done. Its great to see new places and learn the history and customs of different countries. Also, sometimes I've managed to do some writing while on holidays (mainly in motorhome) so its a win/win situation for me. But since I enjoy writing my books and planning more stories, I guess I am enjoying life even when I am sitting alone in my office.

       Pay off bills.

A small percentage of writers actually have best-sellers and make lots of money. Most are happy to have a small income to help pay off their bills because they write because they love to write. That's me. I have an idea and want to write the story around it and I'm lucky that I have a publisher for my novels.

Learning something new.

Most beginner writers take writing courses to learn their craft. For others writing comes naturally. Many writers take a course in something they are writing about so the reader feels that the writer knows what they are putting in their books. When I write my historical novels I do a lot of research—reading books, visiting the places I am including in the book, and checking sites on the Internet. I have learned so much about Canadian history that I didn’t know before. I like to live by the saying: keep learning because it doesn’t cost anything to store the information.

So how do my New Year’s pledge(s) relate to those resolutions? I am going to continue doing my exercises in the morning before I begin writing so that I stay in shape. In spite of liking to write with a full stomach I work at maintaining my normal weight and will make sure that I continue to do so. Luckily at this time in my life, I don’t have any large debts and can write because I love to. I am not going to take up smoking nor will I drink more. But I think the most important one is I am going to continue enjoying life by doing more travelling and by writing more but also by spending more time with family and friends.


 

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