Volume VIII, Issue 8
February 25, 2019
Dear ,
As I did last week's featured writer Lyn Hopper, I met this week's featured writer, Glenda Council Beall, at the John C. Campbell Folk School, although Glenda and I go way back to my first years of teaching there, in the early 1990s.
Glenda and I have had many lovely intersections over the years, and just a few months ago, she wrote to let me know that she and her longtime friend Estelle Rice decided to publish a collection of stories, poems and nonfiction about animals that have been important in their lives. A number of these were "rescue" animals, and one thing I loved in Glenda's message was hearing that many of these
animals had also rescued them. And that, in fact, the book was doing some "rescuing," too: For a number of years, Estelle had been caring for her husband who had Alzheimer’s. She could not go out much and working on the book became a precious distraction. It was a labor of love, and after Estelle’s husband died in December 2017, working to bring this book to publication helped Estelle through the first year of
mourning. Glenda said that, even at ninety-four years, Estelle still enjoys signing books and meeting people.
I think you will really enjoy their finished product, Paws, Claws, Hooves, Feathers and Fins; Family Pets and God’s Other Creatures, starting with the story that's featured below.
I am writing this to you a whole state away from the John C. Campbell Folk School, in my lovely, sea salt green room at the Sunset Inn in Sunset Beach, North Carolina, having just finished leading a retreat for these beautiful souls pictured here.
I'm always smiling at the synchronicities and serendipities that abound when writers come together. This time, for example, Lori, the dark-haired woman on the far right, "happened" to write a story about at time she braved the dark of night to rescue her two rescue dogs. She had no idea that she was doing the prompt that I'd already picked for today! (Though she did find out about the retreat in a
past Word-zine.)
Then, another writer chimed in to share a song called "The Best Dog" by Amy White. It's so perfect for this week's theme that I have to share it with you. But I'm warning you, it may make you cry. You can view it here.
And, while I'm sharing about my time here at the Sunset Inn, I'll share two photos: after days and days of rain and clouds, with only one small sun showing on Thursday afternoon, we were graced with one "last chance" sunset and sunrise.
How I love it here! Yes, even in the cold, windy rain. I went walking then, too. I can truly say that long walks
on the beach no matter the weather along with the opportunity to write around a table with kind, smart, inspiring writers, as I did this weekend, rescues me from most everything that ails me, and I'm ever so grateful for all of it. And for Glenda, Estelle, Savannah, Mike, Elizabeth, and the many other people I've connected with in this last week alone who have rescued animals—and people—who were
hurting.
And now, I'm off for one last beach walk and the long ride home. I hope Glenda's sweet story about how she, her husband Barry, and a dog named Rocky all rescued each other.
Love and light,
Maureen
Upcoming WordPlay
THE SEVEN ENERGIES OF WRITING
A Holistic, Whole Brain Approach, With Accompanying Tools and Strategies To Enhance Creativity, Productivity, and Writing Pleasure
If you’ve ever had a hard time getting started writing, finishing what you’ve begun, or gotten stuck in the middle (AKA writer’s block), knowing how to engage in the most helpful “energy of writing” for you at each stage of your process—and on any given day—will be a game-changer. In this class, we’ll explore—and practice—the ins, outs, and benefits of all seven energies of writing.
You’ll learn invaluable tools and strategies you’ll use again and again to write with maximum ease and effectiveness. Yes, you can be more productive, creative, and fulfilled, no matter what kind of writing you do or how experienced you are.
WHEN: Saturday, March 30th, 1 – 4:30 p.m.
WHERE: The WordPlay Studio, South
Charlotte
COST for Workshop and Materials:
$67
TO REGISTER: To register for The Seven Energies of Writing online, click here.
Or email [email protected] for details on registering by check via mail.
Class size limited to 12
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WRITE LIKE A GENIUS
AT THE JOHN C. CAMPBELL FOLK SCHOOL
(Expanding Our Creativity; Learning New Tools for Our Writing and Our Lives; Creating New Writing)
Discover your own genius as you learn to apply seven fascinating approaches of Leonardo da Vinci to your writing. These techniques enliven non-fiction, poetry and fiction. Expect fun, inspiration and writing galore in your preferred genre, with opportunities to share your
work.
WHERE: John Campbell Folk School, 1 Folk School Road, Brasstown, NC 28902
WHEN: Sunday, May 26th – Saturday, June 1st, 2019
COST is $630 for
one week-long session (lodging and meals are additional – options can be found on the Folk School website)
TO REGISTER: To register, please click this link to register through the John Campbell Folk School website.
Class size limited to 8.
More WordPlay opportunities here.
"[Maureen's] gentle way of inspiring and motivating her students was just what I needed as I was always shy and insecure about my writing."
Meet Glenda Council Beall
Glenda Council Beall began publishing her writing after she moved to Hayesville, NC and signed up for writing classes at the John C. Campbell Folk School. Maureen Ryan Griffin was one of the teachers she
met there. Some of her favorite poems were conceived or written in Maureen’s classes.
Glenda’s poems have been published in numerous reviews, journals and anthologies. Her chapbook, Now Might as Well be Then, was published by Finishing Line Press. Her short stories and nonfiction have been published in the Dead Mule School of Southern Literature, Muscadine Lines, A Southern Journal and in various online zines and in anthologies. She published a family history, Profiles and Pedigrees,
Descendants of Thomas Charles Council (1858 – 1911).
In 2008, Glenda taught a writing class at the John C. Campbell Folk School and felt she had come full circle. She was serving as program coordinator for the NC Writers’ Network – West, a program of the state literary organization. But life dealt her an unexpected blow. Her husband of 45 years was diagnosed with cancer and, within one year, he passed away.
Glenda decided she had to have something in her life that motivated her to get up each day. She opened a writing studio in her home and with advice from Maureen, began teaching and inviting other instructors to teach at her studio, Writers Circle around the Table.
Glenda is a graduate of the University of Georgia, taught elementary school for fifteen years, and teaches writing for adults now at the Institute of Continuing Learning at Young Harris College and Tri-County Community College. She is once again PC for NCWN-West.
To learn more about Glenda and Estelle, or to order a paperback copy from the authors, visit www.riceandbeall.blogspot.com
Glenda is a blogger on www.profilesandpedigrees.blogspot.com and on her website, www.glendacouncilbeall.com
To order a Kindle copy from Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07MFZWR7W/ref=rdr_kindle_ext_tmb
What Glenda says about WordPlay
I grew up writing and was inspired by Jo in Little Women when I saw the movie as a little girl and then read the book. No one in my family knew I liked to write, but I built a little platform in
the Chinaberry tree in the back yard on our farm and there among the birds that lit near me, I imagined stories and characters and wrote them in my spiral notebook.
A high school teacher, after reading a poem I submitted for an assignment, suggested I send it to a magazine. That was the only encouragement I ever received until I moved to Hayesville, NC in 1995.
I joined the North Carolina Writers’ Network and automatically became a member of NC Writers’ Network-West. Thinking I would get a newsletter but having no idea I’d find a large writing group in this area, I was invited by the late poet, Nancy Simpson, to take her class at the John C. Campbell Folk School. She gave me a scholarship and I accepted. After six months of taking writing classes, I began submitting
poems. They began to be accepted.
I met Maureen Ryan Griffin when I signed up for one of her classes at JCCFS. Some of my favorite poems were conceived or written in Maureen’s classes. Her gentle way of inspiring and motivating her students was just what I needed as I was always shy and insecure about my writing.
One day she put a peach on the table and we were to write a poem about a peach. My peach poem was published by Appalachian Heritage. The editor of the journal said he loved it because he remembered how he was switched by a branch off a peach tree when he was little. Who would have thought that would get a poem published?
In 2007, I became the Program Coordinator for the NC Writers’ Network-West, a program of the state organization. I invited Maureen to teach a few classes for our members. They all loved her and became part of her following to this day.
When my husband was diagnosed with cancer in 2008, I had to resign as PC for NC Writers’ Network-West, but my heart was always with the organization. During his year-long illness I worked with Nancy Simpson and others to publish the anthology, Echoes across the Blue Ridge, while continuing to write and publish poems, personal essays and short stories.
My husband passed away in 2009 just three months before my poetry chapbook, Now Might as Well be Then, was published by Finishing Line Press. The last photo of us together is in that book. The cover picture is our hands together on our wedding day, overlaid with our hands the year the manuscript was submitted.
Stricken with grief, I knew I had to find a way to go on, to have a reason to get out of bed each day. I had done some teaching of writing at the John Campbell Folk School and in a few other places. I enjoyed taking classes and passing on my knowledge to beginning writers. I knew the fear, the insecurity of wanting to be a writer and not knowing where to go, to whom to reach out. I had spent the first half of
my life with those feelings.
I decided to create a studio in my house where I could teach, but also invite other instructors at a reasonable fee that local people could afford. I immediately turned to Maureen with questions which she so graciously answered. With her help, I opened Writers Circle around the Table in my daylight basement, and she was one of the first instructors who taught there.
Since that time I was re-elected as Program Coordinator for NCWN-West. We held a very successful Day for Writers in 2017 and are planning another in August of this year in Sylva, NC.
I continue to write and in 2018, with my friend and co-author, Estelle Rice, published a collection of stories, poems and color photos of animals that have been a part of our lives; our family pets, horses, birds, cats and even wild animals that suffer the same human frailties of growing old became our subjects. Our stories are about the relationships of people and those furry friends that share our
lives.
Paws, Claws, Hooves, Feathers and Fins; Family Pets and God’s Other Creatures was a collaboration that was challenging at times because we had so much to learn about publishing a book, but was a labor of love. Estelle says working on the book provided distraction for her as she grieved the recent death of her husband who had Alzheimer’s, and who she cared for the past twelve years.
Sometimes I am not sure which I enjoy most—teaching or writing. Having studied with Maureen Ryan Griffin, knowing her as a caring person and one dedicated to her students, has made me a better teacher. I hope to inspire my students and motivate them to help others as I have been. I appreciate her generosity in giving me this opportunity on her website.
Bundled against February’s cold, my husband Barry and I walked along the road near the Hiawassee River, making our way up to Chatuge Dam where we would find a flat trail for our morning walk. At the corner of the main road and the road to the river, a puppy lay under a bare limbed tree. Stretched out on his belly, head up and ears alert, he watched the road before him as
though he expected someone to appear at any minute.
Barry talked to him as we approached. “Hey, Bud, what are you doing here?”
When we came closer, the dog moved away from us and growled low in his throat. Obviously, he was frightened.
“I hope he doesn’t get hit by a car. I think he’s been dumped out here. He’s not very old.” Barry loved animals. It angered him to see them abused. “How could anybody throw away this puppy, and on a cold day like this?”
A dog’s tail can show his attitude, angry, cowed or happy, but this dog’s tail had been bobbed to a short little nubbin.
“He has the coloring of a Doberman or Rottweiler,” I said as we continued to walk past. I hoped he would be safe. He was close to a fairly busy road.
Later, on the way back to our car, we saw the dog again, and this time he ran when we approached.
Back home after lunch, I read a book while Barry napped. Around 2:00 p.m., after he awakened and watched some golf on TV, Barry said to me, “I’m going to take that dog something to eat if he is still there. I imagine he’s been picked up by now, but I hate to leave him with nothing to eat.”
He pulled a couple of cans of dog food off the shelf in the pantry. As he left, I thought about Kodi, our lovely and sweet Samoyed who stayed on my mind most of the time. We had to put him to sleep on Christmas day. That had been only a couple of months before. Kodi was thirteen years old, snowy white with fur as soft as down. His black eyes had become a milky blue, but his
smile was the same. I never looked at my loving white sled dog that I didn’t smile back at him. The last four years of his life had been tough for him and for us. He had developed corneal ulcers on both eyes. We’d taken him to specialists and finally cured that problem, but his hips began to fail. Getting to his feet became a struggle, and often I had to lift him up off the floor so he could get his footing. But he continued to steal my heart with his gentle way of leaning against me and laying
his muzzle across my knee while I stroked his head.
Everything in our house reminded me of my beloved pet: his food bowl, his pink toy with chewed ears and even the recliner where I sat. I still checked under the foot rest before letting it down to be sure Kodi was not lying there, right under my feet, as he had done for all those years.
A friend, a few weeks after Kodi died, told me we should get another dog right away. “No,” I said. “I don’t want another dog. I can’t stand losing another.” The only dog I wanted was gone.
When Barry said he would like another dog, I said, “I don’t want a dog now. If I ever do get another dog, I want a small lap dog.”
I knew Barry did not want a small dog, and I wanted no dog at all. Nothing was fun anymore. And only my dearest friends and my sister knew how devastated I really was over the death of Kodi.
That Saturday afternoon in February, as I sat warm and cozy reading, Barry knelt on the ground near the black and tan pup, coaxing him to come eat from the can in his hand.
Two hours after he left, I heard my husband’s happy voice calling from downstairs in the basement. “Come down here and see what I have. I brought this puppy home with me.”
I heaved a large sigh. I didn’t want a mutt found beside the road. Who knew what kind of health problems he had? And I didn’t think he was handsome. He was just a mixed breed puppy with no tail.
“We’ll have to find his owner or find a home for him,” I said. I made sure Barry knew I was not going to keep this thrown-away dog. He agreed that we would use every means to find the owner, and if we couldn’t, we would find a good home for him.
But sometimes, no matter how strong we have our minds set against something, there seems to be a master plan for us that we cannot deny. While I made flyers with the dog’s photo on them, put them up around town, announced the found dog on the radio and in the newspapers, Barry bonded with Rocky, the name he gave the pup who sat in the rocking chair next to him on the
deck.
Rocky, when Barry and Glenda found him
When we came home to find a message on our phone from a man who said we might have his puppy, Barry’s face fell with disappointment. Upon finding the caller’s lost puppy was half the size of Rocky, who weighed twenty-five pounds, Barry’s eyes lit up like a child’s at Christmas. By this time, Rocky had been neutered and examined by our vet, who pronounced him in excellent
condition.
The outside dog had become a basement dog by now and had learned to use the pet door. He slept each night in Kodi’s kennel and never uttered a cry. Rocky quickly learned to sit and stay, come and lie down, and before I knew it, he was in my lap giving me kisses on my face. He seemed to know he had to be a perfect companion to both of us, make no mistakes, and adapt to
whatever we needed. When we traveled, we tossed his bed in the car and he settled down and never whimpered. If we stopped to eat along the way, he stayed quietly in his bed or curled up in the front seat.
Some dogs are trained as service dogs and some as rescue dogs for people who become lost. At six-months-old, Rocky came to us already trained as a service and rescue dog. He served us by urging us to walk every day, even on cold days because it was such fun to watch him romp and play. His antics made us laugh when I thought I’d never laugh again. His unconditional love for
both of us healed our hurt and rescued us from sorrow and grief. He brought us happiness just by being there.
Rocky was an affectionate and loyal friend. He and Barry were inseparable for the ten years they were together.
My friend, Debbie, told me she was sure that Rocky was meant for us and was sent to us. “You needed this animal in your life even if you didn’t know it yourself,” she said. “So He placed him there at the right time and in the right place to come and heal your pain.”
~ From Paws, Claws, Hooves, Feathers and Fins; Family Pets and God’s Other Creatures
WordPlay Now! Writing Prompt
This is WordPlay—so why not revel in the power and potential of one good word after another? This week, it's "rescue."
PROMPT: Write about a rescue, real or imagined, in any genre you like.
It's fun to play with prompts in community with fellow writers, and to be able to share the results when you're done. You can find out about WordPlay classes, workshops, and retreats here.
MAUREEN RYAN GRIFFIN, an award-winning poetry and nonfiction writer, is the author of Spinning Words into Gold, a Hands-On Guide
to the Craft of Writing, a grief workbook entitled I Will Never Forget You, and three collections of poetry, Ten Thousand Cicadas Can't Be Wrong, This Scatter of Blossoms and When the Leaves Are in the Water.
She believes, as author Julia Cameron says, "We are meant to midwife dreams for one another." Maureen also believes that serious "word work" requires serious WordPlay, as play is how we humans best
learn—and perform. What she loves best is witnessing all the other dreams that come true for her clients along the way. Language, when used with intentionality and focus, is, after all, serious fuel for joy. Here's to yours!
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