tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70237065656958190462024-03-05T00:27:24.996-08:00Kritique KriticsWe are a group of writer friends helping each other. We meet twice a month to critique, support, and promote each others work.Debra Davis Hinklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07134817193165148414noreply@blogger.comBlogger46125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7023706565695819046.post-57052367179834713882008-08-18T11:34:00.000-07:002008-08-18T11:44:40.207-07:00WE'VE MOVED ON TO BIGGER & BETTER THINGS!<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong>Check out our new and improved site at</strong>:</span> </span><a href="http://www.kritiquekritics.com/"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>www.kritiquekritics.com</strong></span></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;">It has something for everyone. We have a BLOG, writers' websites, children's section, art, etc. I don't want to spoil the fun of looking inside our new home. It's only a week old, so all the furniture hasn't arrived yet and a few rooms still have to be painted. But, you can tell we went for <span style="color:#3333ff;">LOCATION, LOCATION, LOCATION</span>!</span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span> </div><span style="font-size:130%;">See you there.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Debra Davis <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Hinkle</span></span>Debra Davis Hinklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07134817193165148414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7023706565695819046.post-26466467299890583712008-08-14T21:00:00.001-07:002008-08-14T21:05:05.271-07:00Conference<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtiAAilxFSNfD1IDpbeLMQB9iohXyusSctPu4022Zy7PiTrf1F6x6h-DNT1AoxEYsYnoSDbAhYic8JvTrwQFQ3GJ9WlWTgDEag4nQt3pQeJR8K39Q3YUlrcwZRv1EWBeHYdCnBaWIPpLY/s1600-h/020.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234590397988836754" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtiAAilxFSNfD1IDpbeLMQB9iohXyusSctPu4022Zy7PiTrf1F6x6h-DNT1AoxEYsYnoSDbAhYic8JvTrwQFQ3GJ9WlWTgDEag4nQt3pQeJR8K39Q3YUlrcwZRv1EWBeHYdCnBaWIPpLY/s200/020.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>What?</div><div>Writers are supposed to do research, right?</div>Laurie Woodwardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12713215201507755495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7023706565695819046.post-67143882563196937042008-08-14T20:30:00.001-07:002008-08-14T20:45:33.969-07:00More thoughts on the ConferenceDuring the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">SCBWI</span> conference I had such ups and downs. One minute I was thrilled to be away from home around exciting people the next I was lonely for my family and just wanted a peaceful hug from my <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">daughter</span>. One minute I was confident in my writing while the next my self-esteem was in the toilet. But I did come away with a sobering epiphany: <em>Art-World I is not even near ready to send to publishers. And I know why. It is still plot driven rather than character driven. </em> <em>I haven't been staying inside my character's skin.</em> Instead I was trying to write exciting events or put pretty words on the page.<br />Not any more.<br />From now on I am going to look at every sentence as if it were in my character's mouth. All of the metaphors, descriptions, and feelings will come from him/her instead of Laurie.<br />It is time to do major surgery to<em> Art-World.</em><br />Wish me luck.Laurie Woodwardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12713215201507755495noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7023706565695819046.post-74893969924944827292008-08-12T05:59:00.000-07:002008-08-12T15:26:23.191-07:00Jim Leonardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14336030536669369238noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7023706565695819046.post-27827687250613810662008-08-05T23:44:00.001-07:002008-08-07T23:12:17.235-07:00More Party PhotosHere I am with Sid Fleischman.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKU8eCqmMxeZq4actaTow2qEz_dRd7AELhXbxNLWJ-kGJVU_on_C1NASez6HT8H9usUd-32tLbi05Zj2iOesk0RGmac31GRJtWbnQA3isbvfKXefwRZf9wuXYce92hQgbvb0NirbngsiYZ/s1600-h/011.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5232024394639965570" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKU8eCqmMxeZq4actaTow2qEz_dRd7AELhXbxNLWJ-kGJVU_on_C1NASez6HT8H9usUd-32tLbi05Zj2iOesk0RGmac31GRJtWbnQA3isbvfKXefwRZf9wuXYce92hQgbvb0NirbngsiYZ/s200/011.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><br /><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDDXnJLqp7vr01ViBem_ux7gxykah6o1RN0EbgMjnYG3UwYJnH2VShXCtTlKy9b5Z1y7AU-Eipn_evli7rBjvtue5ZQPdbBtcy0SCzRWX2NAl6T6bUj5mj3Huw3YboM0xf3YseLOcCzNQ/s1600-h/001.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231292172584208530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDDXnJLqp7vr01ViBem_ux7gxykah6o1RN0EbgMjnYG3UwYJnH2VShXCtTlKy9b5Z1y7AU-Eipn_evli7rBjvtue5ZQPdbBtcy0SCzRWX2NAl6T6bUj5mj3Huw3YboM0xf3YseLOcCzNQ/s200/001.JPG" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:180%;">Debra and Laurie Paint the Town Red<br /></span></div></div>Laurie Woodwardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12713215201507755495noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7023706565695819046.post-17049985116560108632008-08-05T22:50:00.000-07:002008-08-05T23:43:48.132-07:00Paint the Town Red Party<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQbBEbhgMYt5kzA1QzIbHOOPWfPiu-z1EFkjCKiTJWpcwnR76P55w9V2dukWK-7OkzAQBzj1qJu-pcYyeSfctpk-6rEUSkBDiVIlLnu42lh8Grc9A6t-v7xRPkSDr5crSVezj71BPBMm8/s1600-h/012.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231291702836511506" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQbBEbhgMYt5kzA1QzIbHOOPWfPiu-z1EFkjCKiTJWpcwnR76P55w9V2dukWK-7OkzAQBzj1qJu-pcYyeSfctpk-6rEUSkBDiVIlLnu42lh8Grc9A6t-v7xRPkSDr5crSVezj71BPBMm8/s200/012.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>After two days of stressing out over saying the right thing, meeting the right people, pitching the right pitch, blah, blah, blah, I finally got to do what I really came to the writing conference for: DANCE.</div><br /><div>Now the other Kritique Kritics didn't know this about me before the conference, but I have obsessive-compulsive disorder. And it is serious. Oh yeah, music is my obsession and whenever I hear it I have to dance. It starts with my fingers tapping to the beat. Then my head begins to bob up and down. Finally my feet are tingling so much to jump that if I don't let them I'm afraid they'll hop right out of my shoes and take off by themselves.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Now, Debra knew I wanted to find famous authors to have my picture taken with. And she is so sweet that she searched high and low until she did. First it was Sid Fleischman who was charming, gracious, and didn't even tell me to hush when I did my "I'm-having-my-picture-taken-with-Sid Fleischman" scream.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>When the music was really pumping Debra managed to find Bruce Coville. Using my feather boa she yanked me off the dance floor. We scurried across the grass and there he was: the amazing, inspirational, famous, multi-talented, opening speaker of the conference. When I posed next to him I thrust my hand behind my back so he could feel my palm instead of my disgustingly gross sweaty shoulders. <em>Celebration</em> played during the polite conversation that followed and I tried to focus on talking to him. I really did. I even shared some sentiments on what is valuable for children. But the music was calling to me. I was seeing the moves in my head. Then came the B-52's. <em>I love the B-52's!</em> <em>Come on Laurie, focus</em> I tried telling myself. <em>But it's Love Shack</em>.<em> You can jump, jerk, and be-bop to that song.</em> I told myself to be polite. I told myself to talk books. I tried. I swear.</div><br /><div>But in the end my compulsion won out. It's a disorder. I can't help it.</div><br /><div>I stopped Mr. Coville mid-sentence. "Excuse me, I have to dance now. Thanks for the the picture."</div><br /><div>Then I ran off and boogied the night away.</div><br /><div>Sorry Mr. Coville. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div>Laurie Woodwardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12713215201507755495noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7023706565695819046.post-21030446496189962712008-07-25T00:20:00.000-07:002008-08-06T00:02:14.341-07:00They Said Yes!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiukvehJYAb3lcedcbnLksPhKBMasJPucQQoVyaLobBbWI7h63q-X7mg4dolr3zO-jlkBUIA-kcXrJQ6MkYq7NIVYLEdPC8Zp6fI0YNbVY2xUZzYPAfTehGOOvMu3PZtJV5sakjD9YBGS4/s1600-h/nick+birthday+2008+003.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226482004367768098" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiukvehJYAb3lcedcbnLksPhKBMasJPucQQoVyaLobBbWI7h63q-X7mg4dolr3zO-jlkBUIA-kcXrJQ6MkYq7NIVYLEdPC8Zp6fI0YNbVY2xUZzYPAfTehGOOvMu3PZtJV5sakjD9YBGS4/s200/nick+birthday+2008+003.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><em>The Willows Magazine</em> is going to print my poem, "Blazing Ice!" Editor Ben Thomas said, "We'd be delighted to take this one for an upcoming issue! Please fill out the attached contract and mail a copy to us:"</div><br /><div>Wow. I feel like it's my birthday.</div><br /><div>I love the name Ben. Thomas is pretty nice too. But put Editor in front of it and add a <em>yes</em> and my heart just skips a beat. </div><div></div><div> </div><div></div><div></div>Laurie Woodwardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12713215201507755495noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7023706565695819046.post-30083937070868697622008-07-24T00:15:00.000-07:002008-07-26T00:23:31.269-07:00I'm headed for the SCBWI Conference in LA next week!<div align="center">Here's a quote from the SCBWI website:</div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ff0000;"><em>Join us poolside on Saturday night from 7:30-10:30pm for a nighttime festival of all things red! Come in crimson any way you know how and enjoy the music, food and cocktails with SCBWI Conference attendees from all over the world. Get creative with your costume! Prizes will be awarded for the red-est. </em></span></div><span style="color:#ff0000;"><em><p align="left"><br /></em></span>What do those words mean? They mean, among other things <span style="color:#cc33cc;">I CAN HARDLY WAIT</span>:</p><ol><li>I'm packed more than a week early</li><li>I have everything I've written in the last four years in a new binder</li><li>I have new business cards and bookmarks for the blog site</li><li>I have a NERVOUS STOMACH for whatever I might have missed</li></ol><p>I don't have a thing to wear! Should I wear a <span style="color:#ff0000;">RED</span> mask or hat. Do I need a <span style="color:#ff0000;">RED</span> boa or a <span style="color:#ff0000;">RED </span>feather?</p><p><br />Laurie's ready to change her phone number; I keep calling with questions about our <span style="color:#ff0000;">RED </span>costumes. I’m forgetting she has a life of her own (family) and just got a poem published; not to mention she’s getting ready to go to the conference, too.</p><p><br />Wish me luck!</p><p><br />Debra</p>Debra Davis Hinklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07134817193165148414noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7023706565695819046.post-65213486754591234072008-07-13T20:35:00.000-07:002008-07-24T10:22:16.504-07:00Experience<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAVOgz_EgMNeaJhWC_N6-tbMuYbH00hYcHk9HYeZ2AbVcaV7xowHZSAD58ETFbpm0r9GkPLtTga8cHQXrOHXAEGnvIWxmkWWdZYH8vdp1Z5Wa_cC_kduua-aNCbTrENeWkg_uz43kCPhe2/s1600-h/038%5B1%5D-1.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226630179046091026" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAVOgz_EgMNeaJhWC_N6-tbMuYbH00hYcHk9HYeZ2AbVcaV7xowHZSAD58ETFbpm0r9GkPLtTga8cHQXrOHXAEGnvIWxmkWWdZYH8vdp1Z5Wa_cC_kduua-aNCbTrENeWkg_uz43kCPhe2/s200/038%5B1%5D-1.JPG" border="0" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlLg1BBQeW2a2nZl0RId6lU7dCayMrFTI00V99bqt1DsY-XaGhFzE_bMMLY8IkWTWaWms2VYy79IAOfR_a686F2imtXhBtl3EspyEWlzfv4KEkRQbjWP3uF6cPYpeiWQHtxprTFmZTJoSC/s1600-h/038%5B1%5D-2.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226630016768664514" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 176px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 120px" height="148" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlLg1BBQeW2a2nZl0RId6lU7dCayMrFTI00V99bqt1DsY-XaGhFzE_bMMLY8IkWTWaWms2VYy79IAOfR_a686F2imtXhBtl3EspyEWlzfv4KEkRQbjWP3uF6cPYpeiWQHtxprTFmZTJoSC/s200/038%5B1%5D-2.JPG" width="176" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvezK86FGYh0EUI-byvxBhuwTzA3IjHkEv4b4SFnPUS0Hzcy7rj9dS25RUVkUNIK2J0OiZWkryQXmsztkDV1xnNL5CSPgm63c5yAAmiBFMmAHIx0d_6EOErjI1V3eFtVjPSbRb1obXCjA/s1600-h/026.JPG"></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQfmIP-STjtoEiilueMgMmnuyqnYFwR5uYwyQqKA07Nieg0LZGvgvEt5tAhza-_KqqG6O21nwkb49K5QK_U_aFjZQn8rj359ayq0vobP4Uowydwrq8aSrVZNnTdR9zGkNuvzRWfu1aQLo/s1600-h/038.JPG"></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>I've been thinking of the old adage that one can only become a writer after years of experience. That only the wisdom that comes with age will be sufficient to create works of meaning.<br />And you know what I think?<br />Hogwash.<br />But not to say that experience is unimportant.<br />Our memories are what make us uniquely ourselves. Whether we are a teenager or a senior citizen, each is so individual that it is impossible to duplicate. Experience is what defines us. That's why I'm a firm believer in creating as diverse and as interesting of experiences as possible. Through classes. The gym. Or pushing myself outside my comfort zone. But mostly travel.<br />So far in 2008 I've had the privilege of climbing the ruins of Machu Picchu, cruising to Mexico with my Mom and daughter, and most recently escaping with friends to Las Vegas.<br />And although each trip differed greatly they all shared one thing: my journal was in hand throughout, recording the experience.<br />And you know what? With every scratch of that pen I AM a writer.</div></div></div></div>Laurie Woodwardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12713215201507755495noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7023706565695819046.post-61405876091097184682008-07-10T16:17:00.000-07:002008-07-25T22:15:50.072-07:00Let Your Soul DanceI saw this video today, and it inspired me to tears. As a writer, I feel my dreams locked up inside my heart--and the work of my daily life is to set them free.<br /><br />This video opened up my heart a little more, shook out the dust of disbelief and inertia, and made me realize anew that I have something beautiful inside myself. And I can set it free.<br /><br />The same is true for you.<br /><br />You can do anything you imagine.<br /><br />You can go wherever you dream.<br /><br />You may start out by yourself, but you will inspire others along the way.<br /><br />Live fully. Live now.<br /><br /><p align="center"> </p><p align="center"><object height="225" width="400"><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><param name="movie" value="http://www.vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=1211060&server=www.vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=&fullscreen=1"><br /> <embed src="http://www.vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=1211060&server=www.vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=&fullscreen=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="400" height="225"></embed></object><br /><a href="http://www.vimeo.com/1211060?pg=embed&sec=1211060">Where the Hell is Matt? (2008)</a> from <a href="http://www.vimeo.com/user484313?pg=embed&sec=1211060">Matthew Harding</a> on <a href="http://vimeo.com/?pg=embed&sec=1211060">Vimeo</a>.</p><br /><p align="center"> </p><br />~Christinemousewordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04720192552913972825noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7023706565695819046.post-63530091113356617432008-07-09T20:02:00.001-07:002008-07-25T22:13:45.454-07:00Update on the "Foal"<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSXnDbrJZVO1gcODK19XX8mIe0VTD9tRVobwqAuDwBoOiOUc7bFnP2pa-unbhMDgptDoyX4URQn7fScgvfIMwuB1aMjze8z6UgINQzbt-QMXD3C3MafohiSDGTI8XrtLAx8TVmQNqYTFmw/s1600-h/The+Kiss1.jpg"></a><div><div><div>I haven’t been riding much since I fell off my horse, Finn, and dislocated my shoulder last December. I haven’t been to the barn in the last month; I been in physical therapy twice a week for my injury.<br />I do have a new picture of the foal. In addition, I think I had better start calling her the filly, because she is a little girl and a very sweet one. My sister suggested I call the photo “the kiss” and that I use the photo on my new business cards. More on my new <span style="color:#ff0000;">“writer’s”</span> business cards later, they’re still in the design stage. </div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivAITWVG0pbnXyd2cnq2Ilbd6NXyuoyuxV1YWdHcttYIM6bq8sLqORAOgqWi-snDas5I-0xxRGsZe5PCw2KkjaMGZCUQ-NMxhK1ppwB7ZtMMlKOlH5pVhd9qZjByRSNxoUsOpvbAJvACXa/s1600-h/TheKiss9.jpg.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221218392514545970" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivAITWVG0pbnXyd2cnq2Ilbd6NXyuoyuxV1YWdHcttYIM6bq8sLqORAOgqWi-snDas5I-0xxRGsZe5PCw2KkjaMGZCUQ-NMxhK1ppwB7ZtMMlKOlH5pVhd9qZjByRSNxoUsOpvbAJvACXa/s200/TheKiss9.jpg.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><br />Debra Davis Hinkle</div></div></div>Debra Davis Hinklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07134817193165148414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7023706565695819046.post-36468646138020381312008-07-09T15:51:00.000-07:002008-07-09T21:54:11.658-07:00Update on "Bird Nesting Season"<div>The babysitting routine worked great--we cared for Lynaia’s birds and she watched ours.<br /><br />Lynaia’s birds had already hatched about two weeks before our eggs were laid so I was unable to get a picture of her birds before they “flew the coup,” as the say. But, all five of our little birds posed for their last <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdbE_saX3SZmvyJrCWmw0-sjtPAULnd3qVrMEGhbspGIs7KbOIZgkkoqSMsge2OVh9y6ST8C3ToHNjpK9LI9svZGo7mZRuVw69VvqH9HAgDuIgAPsu5guMrDlyaLK-1KdkxZuGdU7t2M29/s1600-h/Hatched2-1.jpg"></a>portrait before going off to college (summer school?).<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_1g8kceeWA9wRB0oWjmzzG4ZF89fKocbGPo81trDjV0rz9N_FIfwjYq2nCxkT3hGyI17np6psQatb80hLS8-798GVRnlgv3boQTZ7DzdCDnbvX5XCJW5TSn_2c6Chko98PE2wSmVJSoVj/s1600-h/Hatched2-1.jpg"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC5ArZJnHnGdHsRe1RrfeDW5KtDx8Rdco8Wv5ALG_3RBAMR5jdcblzosoKJ08U9IOR2zhLYpRFkBK1vdnrw3xzITuNghBRZMTNSUjTHFrkUHV6Be3J-iPjkbu2EP-BrXptcxd9ndpyNKMG/s1600-h/Hatched3-2.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221243955612504562" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC5ArZJnHnGdHsRe1RrfeDW5KtDx8Rdco8Wv5ALG_3RBAMR5jdcblzosoKJ08U9IOR2zhLYpRFkBK1vdnrw3xzITuNghBRZMTNSUjTHFrkUHV6Be3J-iPjkbu2EP-BrXptcxd9ndpyNKMG/s200/Hatched3-2.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="color:#ffff00;">Debra's Baby Birds</span></div>Debra Davis Hinklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07134817193165148414noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7023706565695819046.post-28956426912977604822008-06-24T13:27:00.000-07:002008-06-24T13:42:17.645-07:00Looking for InspirationWell here it is my long awaited vacation and am I finishing that story? Revising my 2nd Art-World novel? Story-boarding ideas? Nope. What I did after coming back from my weekend Mexican cruise with my Mom & daughter was start cleaning. I scrubbed the floors, wiped down the tables, waxed the furniture, hosed out the chicken water and bird bath as well as did yet another load of laundry.<br />What was holding me back?<br />This new story is giving me trouble. I started it 3 weeks ago with a germ of an idea but this ain't a disease that is spreading throughout my body. Oh no. Instead it's like I have disinfectant stopping every bacterial inspiration from spreading.<br />That disinfectant is called <em>But what about. But what about her troublesome back story? I don't have it yet. But what about the artificial gravity? I don't have enough technological expertise to make it sound plausible. But what about her consequences for falling short of her training numbers? Where will it lead. What about? What about? </em><br />All these what abouts have me wrapped in a sterile bottle killing every idea.Laurie Woodwardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12713215201507755495noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7023706565695819046.post-8760931994458846412008-06-12T06:19:00.000-07:002008-07-24T00:59:04.063-07:00And the stars look very different tonight<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzXsBRnTgJuunfEeSOVhoBqDLi-N2g0EzjnXexeZ6ib7OVrsn_kHee0P5uHxRYpldFcckc1TuQR0KTJBdfgx9BEtbVeBAON6dB0B8Kn9pj9q6bY7qAUjKIAz3e-0dXZKG-QK_2qNwV_ZI/s1600-h/July+08+022.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226487003625288274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzXsBRnTgJuunfEeSOVhoBqDLi-N2g0EzjnXexeZ6ib7OVrsn_kHee0P5uHxRYpldFcckc1TuQR0KTJBdfgx9BEtbVeBAON6dB0B8Kn9pj9q6bY7qAUjKIAz3e-0dXZKG-QK_2qNwV_ZI/s200/July+08+022.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><em>"The stars look very different today."</em> went the words to David Bowie's song. And for my group of fifth graders it was true. Last night was the Second Annual Taylor Elementary Talent show and I choreographed a number to <em>Space Oddity </em>for them. The song tells the story of an astronaut who blasts off into space and finds himself lost among the stars.<br /><br />The last two weeks of rehearsal have been wonderfully exhausting. Trying to herd 28 fifth graders into lines was hard enough but throwing a few hyper boys into the mix made it feel nearly impossible. At first. But we practiced. Again and again. And <em>again.</em><br /><br />At the performance in the high school auditorium they were as excited as crickets on a hot plate. Running to the restroom every five minutes, giggling, and needing be shushed about 47 times. But when that curtain went up and it was their turn, every single child was in line. Every single head was held high as they did pivot turns, chanays, and jazz arms.<br />Boy this year has been a glorious Apollo Mission. From that first day smiling at them in their shining suits as I invited them aboard. We went over emergency procedures before counting down to the rush of jet-fueled curriculum. Getting out of Earth's gravity was tough. Some of the kids' suits had holes and others needed more oxygen. We patched a few here or there and pumped them as full as we could.<br />But then eventually we send them off into space hoping they won't just drift from star to star. Hoping they can steer their rockets toward the brightest in the sky.<br />Last night every single one did.</div>Laurie Woodwardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12713215201507755495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7023706565695819046.post-38422122379185227772008-06-01T14:53:00.000-07:002008-06-01T14:56:45.784-07:00I'm Moving InToday marks the beginning of a challenge for me--the <a href="http://kiwiwriters.org/my/challenge/site/socnoc-2008.html" target="blank">Southern Cross Novel Challenge</a>. Described as the Southern Hemisphere's version of <a href="http://www.nanowrimo.org/eng/whatisnano" target="blank">NaNoWriMo</a>, SoCNoC's challenge is to write 50,000 words of fiction in the month of June.<br /><br />I already have a novel on the board; I've been working on it for almost five years now. That seems like a long time (to me, at least), but a lot has been going on. I began the book shortly after suffering chronic carbon monoxide poisoning--and the writing process has been as much a journey of personal growth as it has been one of story. I'm rebuilding my life as I build my novel.<br /><br />I envision my novel as a house. Each room is a chapter.<br /><br />For five years, I've been visiting my house, taking items inside. Some rooms are filled with things, all piled together in disorderly fashion. Here and there is a neat corner, perfectly decorated. Other rooms, though, are still empty.<br /><br />I haven't been staying in my house--just stopping by when I can, in between other obligations. A morning here, an evening there. A whole weekend, now and again. Weeks can pass with only a few visits, maybe to carry in a new piece when I come across something.<br /><br />Not anymore.<br /><br />As of June 1, 2008, I've made the decision to move into my house. It's a big move. Life changing. I still have struggles to deal with; I still have other work to do. But I will live in my house, and work on it each day. And with that dedicated effort, it will soon be finished.<br /><br />It's time for me to go home.<br /><br />~Christinemousewordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04720192552913972825noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7023706565695819046.post-59275819471702884842008-05-24T10:20:00.000-07:002008-05-24T10:28:11.971-07:00Writing Contest in Mrs. Woodward's ClassAnnouncing Mrs. Woodward's First Annual Writing Contest for her 5<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">th</span> Grade class.<br />Genre: All fiction<br />Length: 3,000 words or less.<br />Purpose: To get my students as excited about the writing process as I am.<br />Deadline: June 3, 2008<br />Judges: <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Kritique</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Kritic</span> members.<br />All entries will get their names listed on the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Kritique</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Kritics</span> Blog. The top three stories will be printed as separate posts and will get a gift certificate from Barnes & Noble.<br />Happy writing kids!Laurie Woodwardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12713215201507755495noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7023706565695819046.post-84785233690710591142008-05-22T10:16:00.000-07:002008-05-22T17:08:10.916-07:00Procrastination and Editing my work!Why do I avoid editing my work? I can write a "creative non-fiction" piece in an hour sometimes. I have stories that are three years old and I haven't gone back and finished them. It would just take some editing to complete them. But, they just sit unedited and uncompleted!<br /><br />I can think of lots of reasons not to sit down at the computer and finish a piece. I need to pay the bills, read, balance the checking account, clean the house, do the laundry, wash the dog, work in the yard, make dinner, shop for food, buy some plants, sew or mend a pair of pants and lastly work on the BLOG.<br /><br /><p>I'm retired. I should be able to fit everything in. Editing should have as much priority in my life as figuring out how to up the ranking on my website. Both of these are VERY important, yet they are at the very bottom of my "to-do-list".<br /></p><p>Do I lack the skill--should I take an editing course? Am I afraid? OOPS, I THINK I JUST HIT THE PROBLEM! I'm afraid, no I'm TERRIFIED! If I edit my work and the story, any story gets completed, guess what? I then have to try to get it published. There in lies the problem. At least, I think that's the problem. I lack the confidence to market my work--I'm afraid to be rejected, especially over and over again. What does that mean--I don't think my writing is worthy of being published?</p><p>What if I am afraid, but not of being rejected--of being successful. Is it possible that I'm afraid of being noteworthy, outstanding, prosperous, arriving, famous. Maybe, out-shinning my husband and what the future would hold. Now, that would be sad.</p><p>I've wanted to be famous since I was in the eighth grade. There I said it and I didn't die. I WANT TO BE WELL-KNOWN, PROMINENT, CELEBRATED. Anyway you say it, I have to edit my stories to get it!</p><p>Debra Davis <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Hinkle</span></p><p></p><p> </p>Debra Davis Hinklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07134817193165148414noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7023706565695819046.post-38794268411931119682008-05-21T13:42:00.000-07:002008-05-21T13:43:13.775-07:00My Favorite Horse VideosDebra's favorite horse videos:<br /><br /><a href="http://canecorso.com/lorenzo.htm">http://canecorso.com/lorenzo.htm</a>Debra Davis Hinklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07134817193165148414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7023706565695819046.post-4948590223287494982008-05-20T16:54:00.000-07:002008-05-20T17:10:44.084-07:00Being True to YourselfOver the last several weeks as we have been preparing for the big standardized test I have found a change in my teaching style. Gone was the creative teacher who used art, drama, and poetry to bring concepts to life. In her place was the robot sergeant. And I didn't like her. This drill sergeant barked out formulas, quizzed them repeatedly, and shouted, "This is the most important test of the year! You have to do well!" Needless to say the smiles and warmth I'd come to know all year were replaced by furrowed brows and distance.<br />I had forgotten myself and the kind of teacher I wanted to be.<br />In today's No Child Left Behind Act climate it is frightening to be a teacher. Not only does California have the highest standards in the nation but we also have the most second language learners of any state. What does that mean? California's test is tougher. And the pressure is on.<br />And we pass that pressure onto our kids.<br />So today I decided to do things differently. I greeted every single one of my students with a smile and a handshake at the door and told them how proud I was of all the work they'd done so far.<br />Then, instead of shouting and cajoling, I cheered, "You guys rock!"<br />They really do. I knew that all along. And however they do on this STAR test won't change that.Laurie Woodwardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12713215201507755495noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7023706565695819046.post-31824335486310139072008-05-17T21:49:00.000-07:002008-05-18T09:50:55.625-07:00Molly the Pony Romps to a New Role in Life…on Three Legs<span><blockquote><span>I had to pass this very touching story on when a friend sent it to<br />me!</span></blockquote><p align="center"></span></p><p align="center"><em><em><em><span style="color:#ffff00;">"Click on the title."</span><em></p></em></em>Debra<em><br /></em></em></em><em><em><em></em></em></em>Debra Davis Hinklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07134817193165148414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7023706565695819046.post-22003843627612781262008-05-13T22:27:00.000-07:002008-05-13T22:33:03.086-07:00The Field TripOn the subject of Debra's <a href="http://kritiquekritics.blogspot.com/2008/05/bird-nesting-season.html">Bird Nesting Season post</a>:<br /><br />We once had a bird nest in a vent of our camper. Not unusual, except we used the camper all the time to transport our large family to different gatherings.<br /><br />We discovered the bird's nest after arriving at the parking lot of White Sox Stadium! Everyone piled out of the van, then stopped when they heard the tiny "cheeps." Poor baby birds, who knows what they thought after an hour of driving on Chicago highways!<br /><br />Their frantic Mama bird was waiting for them when we got back. The next day, my Dad built a birdhouse right next to the van, then moved the little family into it. The Mama seemed upset and skeptical about the new digs, but she was soon at home.<br /><br />That family grew up and left--and through the next few years, the birdhouse sheltered many more nests. No more field trips to baseball games. :-)<br /><br />~Christinemousewordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04720192552913972825noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7023706565695819046.post-52442370137628863722008-05-13T18:02:00.001-07:002008-05-13T18:03:23.265-07:00Kitty Heaven at Laurie'sWell, we finally got her. Jessica's birthday present. I arrived home from the last Critique Group to find this little grey and white ball of fluff in my daughter's arms mewing away. Jess had a beatific look in her eye as if she'd just returned from a vacation at the Pearly Gates. A corner of her bedroom was all decorated with a paisley cat bed, scratching post, and wine colored feeding bowls. But the kitty wouldn't eat. She hadn't been weaned yet. By the next morning she seemed weak and listless. I drove to the Feed Store and asked, "What should I do?" The gal at the counter suggested that we use milk replacement with a bottle, and slowly mix it into her food. We had a heck of a time with the tiny bottle. I didn't know how large to cut the holes in the nipple. So I first tried poking a few with a needle. Nothing. I tried larger holes with a bigger needle. Barely a drop. Finally I trimmed off a chunk of rubber with nail clippers. Now our kitten could drink. Jess propped this green eyed baby up in her lap and fed her with the bottle. Little by little the kitten got some white nourishment. Then Jess poured some in a bowl. It was lapped right up. "What are you going to call her?" I asked. "Apple, because she's the apple of my eye." I looked into my daughter's hazel eyes. Sure enough there was a shine there that would make any apple farmer proud.Laurie Woodwardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12713215201507755495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7023706565695819046.post-1728212433389817062008-05-12T17:31:00.000-07:002008-05-21T13:53:50.934-07:00Updated to "Living in the now".<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilMEjI6iwGvuR97U6G7q9S1VIkzqVBQmIGAH14IzpF97fLOJjc8r1s2XEmprHG2MVyyBFdKWkR-geflKAe0rO1upkdsVvY_toR6TejnOR-AQMgxWSYSaTHbvirDD9tYTYAVO_a0abwWHN8/s1600-h/IMG_0144.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5202936756488374322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilMEjI6iwGvuR97U6G7q9S1VIkzqVBQmIGAH14IzpF97fLOJjc8r1s2XEmprHG2MVyyBFdKWkR-geflKAe0rO1upkdsVvY_toR6TejnOR-AQMgxWSYSaTHbvirDD9tYTYAVO_a0abwWHN8/s400/IMG_0144.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#33ff33;">The filly was a month old last Thursday. Isn't she MAJESTIC!</span></div>Debra Davis Hinklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07134817193165148414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7023706565695819046.post-17616206959753334472008-05-12T13:51:00.000-07:002008-05-12T18:37:51.288-07:00Bird Nesting Season!It's a <span style="color:#33ff33;">myth</span> that a "mommy bird" won't come back to her nest if a human touches the nest, eggs, or baby birds, according to Pacific Wildlife Care of San Luis County. They also said that eggs usually hatch in two weeks and that baby birds are in the nest for another two-three weeks.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGf04mvU-cYCoYcQohrA79PIIYCdEi4nnPM9PqKcWt1D7FxFBpMuPI-xP2-Nhn4v2TraANaXmDoqCc0SdAfzEeMPn7ODAAaYcrWpZf7YmxQpnmtPjz2qhtIFjJU6A41BeLAVl_ucOUSBqC/s1600-h/IMG_0141.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5199666001453516834" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGf04mvU-cYCoYcQohrA79PIIYCdEi4nnPM9PqKcWt1D7FxFBpMuPI-xP2-Nhn4v2TraANaXmDoqCc0SdAfzEeMPn7ODAAaYcrWpZf7YmxQpnmtPjz2qhtIFjJU6A41BeLAVl_ucOUSBqC/s200/IMG_0141.JPG" border="0" /></a>This is great information to know since my husband found a nest in our horse trailer last week. The nest is resting on a light above the tack room door. The nest had two eggs on Friday, four on Sunday and five today.<br /><br /><br />Our trailer wasn't the only prized nesting location. The trailer just South of ours had a nest resting on the light next to the back door <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbCtBEltcFqZ_xjNaxuMubG4bAwmERdCt4EAe5-hsGc3yUAYWe4s7cFZ9UqXl6CRh3y-a5LqhXTCYLA2mN5wfPnsh1cdQtvD3CkYGb7qb5onAbLGETAADql9bgxaXlmN5uTj-JMHPCsnHL/s1600-h/IMG_0133.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5199665992863582226" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbCtBEltcFqZ_xjNaxuMubG4bAwmERdCt4EAe5-hsGc3yUAYWe4s7cFZ9UqXl6CRh3y-a5LqhXTCYLA2mN5wfPnsh1cdQtvD3CkYGb7qb5onAbLGETAADql9bgxaXlmN5uTj-JMHPCsnHL/s200/IMG_0133.JPG" border="0" /></a>hinges and that nest has four baby birds. On Sunday, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Lynaia</span>, the owner of the other trailer wanted to take her horse to the beach so we moved the nest in her trailer to ours temporarily. She moved it back when she returned from her ride. If we need to use our trailer in the next five weeks, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Lynaia</span> has agreed to babysit our nest. That sure beats waiting five weeks to take our horse out.<br /><br />Debra Davis <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Hinkle</span><br /><br />p.s. Maybe our birds will grow up to dance like <span style="color:#33ff33;">Snowball</span>:<br /><br /><a href="http://birdloversonly.blogspot.com/search/label/Cockatoo"><span style="color:#cc33cc;">http://birdloversonly.blogspot.com/search/label/Cockatoo</span></a>Debra Davis Hinklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07134817193165148414noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7023706565695819046.post-42612588860773988472008-05-12T13:46:00.001-07:002008-05-14T14:56:15.788-07:00Favorite Cat Videos!Visit some of my <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">favorites</span> at:<br /><br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PC4HhI0bK4c"><span style="color:#cc66cc;">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PC4HhI0bK4c</span></a><span style="color:#cc66cc;"><br /><br /></span><span style="color:#cc66cc;"></span><p><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TZ860P4iTaM"><span style="color:#cc66cc;">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TZ860P4iTaM</span></a></p><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z-hT018rpBs&feature=related"><span style="color:#cc66cc;">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z-hT018rpBs&feature=related</span></a><br /><br /><a href="http://daveandthomas.blogspot.com/2008/04/engineers-guide-to-cats.html"><span style="color:#cc66cc;">http://daveandthomas.blogspot.com/2008/04/engineers-guide-to-cats.html</span></a><span style="color:#cc66cc;"><br /><br /></span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/view_play_list?p=314D79AC28BBD2EC"><span style="color:#cc66cc;">Playlist: Mean Kitty Episodes:</span></a><span style="color:#cc66cc;"> </span><br /><span style="color:#cc66cc;"><br /></span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ypMl2RFTC9Y"><span style="color:#cc66cc;">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ypMl2RFTC9Y</span></a><br /><p><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7tRWRSfcDuQ&feature=related"><span style="color:#cc66cc;">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7tRWRSfcDuQ&feature=related</span></a><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PC4HhI0bK4c"></a></p><p><span style="color:#cc33cc;"><span style="color:#cc33cc;"></span></p></span><p></p><p><span style="color:#993399;"></span></p>The Cat Lady<br /><br /></span>Debra Davis Hinklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07134817193165148414noreply@blogger.com0