Child of the Mind

Child of the Mind            

 

By John W. Vander Velden

 

 

Now that I have finished the novel, I looked back and see that I started Misty Creek in September 2010. Simply stating that six years have passed since I began.  That is not saying I have devoted all my life to that book, I have a “real” job, if any job is real, and I have spread my writing time on many projects.  Yet all the same, Misty Creek has required a great deal of time, energy, and yes, money to reach this point. 

I face the next step…getting it out there.  The path that leads before me seems daunting.  A complex business of proposals and research.  Some might be content in the completion of the work…I am not.  You see Misty Creek and other works are “Children of the mind”…my children.  For me to just go “ho-hum” it’s done, that’s all there is to it folks, would be like leaving my child on its own.  I would not leave a child on the side of a busy thoroughfare hoping that, by chance, someone will kindly stop and take it to safety, feed it, cloth and nurture it, and see it reaches the potential God has for it.  No, that won’t do.  It is up to me to do the heavy lifting.  To carry it…physically if I have to…to promote it, to find an outlet for the story. 

Misty Creek is my child.  It is my story…sorta’.  Those of us that write understand that stories grow out of somewhere deep inside us…especially fiction.  Built up from personal experiences and people we know, yet shaded and shaped by those of us that put words to page.  But I contend that Misty Creek comes from a deep place within me that houses so many tales, but fueled by gifts granted me by the Almighty.  Believe it or not…your choice.  It follows that if I feel that I have been given the talent, feeble as it might be, to build stories like Misty Creek, I must use whatever other talents God has given me to see this through.  

So I begin the next step, and as so many next steps, everything in this one is new to me. So I begin by polishing my “pitch” and building a possible agent list.  Then the research begins as I sift through organizations and individuals to see which might be a “good” fit.  Rejection will not be if or when, but how many.  I read that Nicholas Sparks was passed over twenty-three times before he found a home for Notebook and I am no Nick Sparks.  I expect fifty…maybe more.  I think it is in the anticipation of stumbles that will make them less painful when I am cast to the wayside.  We’ll see.  But I will see this through…one way or the other.  Misty Creek will be published, one way or the other.  That is the goal, and having a goal will be needed these next several months.  

But I must find time between all these details to keep writing.  There are stories I feel need to be told.  I will begin revising Elizabeth’s Journey, the sequel to Misty Creek and make notes to begin Matthew Remembers the third book in the series.  Perhaps I will take a little time off to finish the first draft of My Name is Same Benton, That story calls me as well. 

Needless to say I have plenty of writing work to do, not counting this Blog and a short story now and then.  But how can I abandon…My child of the mind.

 

(604 Words) 9-22-2016

Lessons Found in Wind and Waves

Lessons Found in the Wind and Waves

By John W. Vander Velden

 

On a cool March morning I forced myself from my warm bed, grabbed a camera and walked to the beach.  The nearly half mile of cool air cleared my head as I saw the color building in the east.  I was not alone when I arrived for others awaited the sun’s arrival.  Oh what a glorious sight to see the orange orb push out of the ocean.  Though it is not so, each of the rare times I find myself witnessing the Atlantic sunrise, it seems that the water tries to keep Sol within its watery clutch.  But the sun is not the ocean’s prisoner and bursts free in glorious reds and oranges.  I hold my breath as, through my viewfinder, I witness a new beginning of another day that perhaps in any other place I would take for granted.  But not here, not at the shore, not among the wind and waves.

I hope that I remember that moment, to hold those thoughts until at last I stand at the water’s edge at first light again.  For I often forget that each day is a gift, something new and wonderful.  And though that was but one brief part of that trip, those lessons may have been the most important I can learn this year. Lessons found in the wind and water.

(221 Words)         4-1-2016

 

 

 

 

Failure is When You Don't Get Up

Failure is When You Don’t Get Up             

 

By John W. Vander Velden

 

 

I’ll be the first to admit that there are times you should leave the cards at the table and just walk away.  Each of us have faced situations where the time and energy invested can not provide the solution we are needing.  It’s just life.  There are times when we need to pick up the pieces, often broken pieces, and see if we can assemble…something…from the rubble.  And there are times we need to abandon…just give up.  It depends on what we are doing, and what we need, and what is even possible.  But how do any of us know what is possible…I mean really!   

I, like everyone, have been knocked down.  Again that’s part of life.  So what I try to remember is that no matter how often I am knocked down…it’s only a failure if I don’t get up.  So far I have gotten up.  So far I continue to strive to do what others might think is impossible.  And maybe, what I hope to accomplish is impossible…but maybe not.  I cling to that maybe not.  

Falling down and thumping my head is a learning process.  When Nick began to walk…he fell.  The first time he fell hard, he didn’t dare to stand upright again for months.  I guess he realized he wasn’t ready…yet.  But he walks.  He runs.  He used to march with the band.  He strolls over the golf course.  When it comes to walking, he’s no failure.  You see he got up.  We can all be taught a great deal by how children learn, can’t we? 

The world we share changes…all the time.  The measure of success in any given area seems in flux.  We strive to reach goals that at many times seem to be a moving target.  We fall down.  But if the goal we pursue is worthy, then we get up.  We try again, and again, and again, even when we fear there is no hope to achieve our goal.  But to strive forward is never failure.  To dust ourselves off and step forward is never failure.  It is only failure when we hold our hands up and surrender.  Giving up is failure.  And if we give up on something that is very worthwhile it becomes a dismal failure. 

Surely not everything we try will result in success.  Many times we’re better off when things do not go the way we want.  It’s just that sometimes we don’t know what’s good for us.  But if there is something that really matters…really matters to others…really matters to ourselves.  Something that we see as important.  Something we see worth whatever pain and sacrifice it takes. Reaching that goal may not be within our abilities, and we fall in the attempt.  But it is only failure when you don’t get up. 

(475 Words)         9-19-2016

Driven

 

Driven              

 

By John W. Vander Velden

 

I believe that everyone needs to be driven.  Not in an automobile, you understand, but pushed forward by a passion.  Each of us needs that “something” to inspire and give us purpose.  Perhaps that is why I write.  I do not write because I think I am a talented “word smith”.  On the contrary, I know that vocabulary and grammar are not my strong suit.  And yet I write.  It is the stories that run around inside my head that demand to see the page that drives me.  

I was reminded recently that I had spent years writing a sequel to Lord of the Rings, as if the four volumes, counting The Hobbit, were not enough.  Numerous spiral notebooks and reams of typed pages formed an incomplete work of more than 1300 pages.  Mostly rubbish.  But within those pages were some reasonable plots.  Asked what I accomplished in all that time, I answered I learned I could tell a story.  That is what drives me forward even today. 

The profession I chose required long hours.  Life’s demands added to my responsibilities.  But a short story entered my mind in 1999.  From it came Tree in the Meadow I passed along a copy to someone I trusted and listened closely to the comment he gave. “It shows real talent.”  Validation helps fuel drive doesn’t it? 

I wrote a draft of 411 Apple Street, my first novel, it took seven long years.  Moments scratched out of a busy life.  But changes offer me more time for my passion, and the words come swifter these days.  Now with drafts of four novels, a novella, fifteen short stories, and more than two hundred essays like this one should indicate that I am driven. But for what purpose.  I have already stated that I do not think myself a “great” writer.  Maybe it is the stories themselves.  Stories that I feel should be told.  It remains my hope that someday they will be read.  I already have a small following that wait for each new story as it leaves my computer.  But I am driven by the hope that in some small way I lift…SOMEONE…just a little…to encourage…to teach perhaps.  That my words add just a match light’s worth of illumination in what seems a dark world. That is what really drives me.  To take the talent GOD has given me and use it in a positive way…to make a small difference. Yes, I am trying to make a difference…that’s why I am driven.  

 

(425 Words) 9-15-2016

When It Rains...

When It Rains…

By John W. Vander Velden

 

The planting season began wet.  Rains that came in late April pushed back my work to the last half of May and beyond.  Wet springs seem to be par for the course.  But when it dried off, it dried off…seriously dried off.  June, July and into August left me concerned.  I’m a farmer, worrying about the weather is in my job description.  You know it’s getting dry when non farmers mention it.  When they begin to speak of brown lawns…yada…yada…yada. 

Yes, it was dry, very dry.  But when the first rains came and I began to breathe again I should have known.  For when it rains…well it rains.  Now we did not get the simply awful multi-feet drowning of the Gulf Coast, so I’ve got no grounds to complain.  Nor did we get the rain that fell only a couple of miles of east of us.   But enough fell to washout Redwood road dragging tons of stone into my field.  For nearly two weeks it rained almost every day.  In the summer, what comes with consistent rains?  Why mosquitos of course.  Swarms of tiny bloodsucking insects that make the outdoors unbearable.  Even the repellent gave no relief.  So all of us that had to work in their universe were and are…miserable!

Now I wonder how long this stretch of wet weather will last.  It very well might reach into harvest.  Mud and combines do not mix well.  But been there, done that, and if the need arises will do it one last time.  You see I, like all farmers, need rain.  So rain is a blessing.  It gives life to the soil.  But like all things there is a point when…well it just gets too wet.  Too wet to cross the ground…too wet for the crops to survive.  But there are many things in life that are just the same.  We yearn for a balance…a perfect balance of whatever so life goes merrily on.  But just as the weather provides me with challenges, so do these other things each of us face.  It’s life.

It is only natural that each of us…farmers and all the rest…would like things to go the way we would like things to go.  Sometimes we need to be reminded that there will be times that when it rains…it really rains.  That things are not within our control.  Troubles come and interfere with our plans.  Things happen that stand in the way of our hopes and dream.  But that is no reason to stop dreaming.  No, dreaming should not be dependent upon fate…good or bad.  So go on dreaming…especially those times when events stand firmly in your way. But dreaming is but the beginning.  It may set a target for a hopeful destination.  But to accomplish the things we dream about, requires more than imagination…it takes work.  It takes work when the sky is blue.  It takes work on those days when dark clouds fill the sky.  It takes work when it rains…

(507 Words)  9-8-2016

 

 

Small Dog and Big Hearts

Small Dog and Big Heart

By John W. Vander Velden

 

They say there is nothing like a good dog.  But the Malamute we had years ago was nothing like a good dog.  But I don’t let my difficult experiences with Bear poison my love of the fur covered tail-wagging critters.  Over the years I have been fortunate to have shared time with four legged friends of vast sizes and colors.  Some purer blood than British royalty but most have been what snobs would call mutts. 

Pedigree doesn’t mean everything to this guy…but heart does.  And the size of a K-9’s heart has nothing to do with the bulk that lies near my feet.  On a strange winter day while I was doing tax paperwork, my wife called and wondered if I was open to taking in a dog.  A dog in our household means extra work and responsibilities.  And my beloved knew I would be carrying the bulk of the added burden.  To her good fortune I had just totaled my personal prescription cost for the year…a sizable sum.  So I didn’t hesitate when she called.  I sensed the excitement…the need…she felt.  So Cloey came into our lives…a tiny thing…a Chihuahua mix…with long brown hair and legs with the finest bones I could imagine.

 

This puppy moved into our home and with its immense heart and sweet disposition and became part of our family.  Over the years, our 7 pound protector…though she has gained a few pounds recently…has earned her place…a special place…in our lives.  Our home and our lives are richer because of this tiny dog.  Cloey is smaller than our cat Oliver but has a heart as big as Montana.  Where would we be without her?  I can’t imagine my life without the longhaired, fish-boned, bundle of pure love. Like I said at the beginning, there’s nothing like a good dog, and Cloey is the best.  

 (316 Words)  9-2-2016

August 27th

August 27th

By John W. Vander Velden

There are those dates that, for whatever reason, are etched into our soul. The month of August has two of those days.  Today is one of them.

So in the crazy busyness of today I take a moment to remember.  Remembering is a good thing…usually.  It honors those who touched our lives but have moved on to better things.  But darkness’ shadow passes over me today once again.  Just a few minutes…just a few.  It is all I will allow myself.  I am surrounded by sunshine and will not dwell long within the shadow.  I push myself to happier memories…effort needed…effort worthwhile.  I allow the shadow to pass over me like the shade of a summer’s cloud.  I have seen it come…I know it will pass…and I remember…wounded once again but not weakened…much.

Mom would have been the last person on earth to admit that she lived an amazing life.  It was not like her to notice…she had things to do.  She didn’t notice things like that.  She noticed the dust that had dared to settle in her living room.  She noticed the weeds that invaded her garden.  She noticed the sniffles of her children…even when they were full grown.  She never noticed how old she had become…never…well almost never.

So I celebrate the life of Nel Vander Velden…and I remember.  And all of you that knew her she was just mom…and that was enough...

 

8-27-2016