Hello everybody! I’m excited and honored to be featured in this blog. It’s a wonderful opportunity to introduce myself to you.
I’ll start by saying that I have dedicated the better part of my adult life to nurturing the love of reading in children. I have been an elementary school teacher for 17 years in Miami, Florida. I have a Masters in Reading, and my areas of focus have always been reading, writing, and English as a second language.
I am one of those people fortunate enough to make a living at something I love. Books, words, pen and paper have been in my life since I knew what each meant, so it was simply cosmic orchestration that I should feel a calling to share that with children.
Many times in the course of my life, I attempted to pour feelings, anecdotes, dreams, nightmares and fantasies into journals, and they…
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A great novel for people living with domestic abuse and co-dependence.
A Room Full of Friends By Aleta Kay © July 28, 2015 Rory looked around his antique shop. He nodded to his customers, smiling as they meandered, checking the prices on the roll-top desks, secretaries, rocking chairs, and old lamps. He was proud of his lighting, the candles creating the ambience of a bygone era. … Continue reading A Room Full of Friends
This one hits us where we live–a large portion of us, anyway.
Reblogged From Inspire 21,
It was a cold winter’s day that Sunday. The parking lot to the church was filling up quickly. I noticed as I got out of my car that fellow church members were whispering among themselves as they walked to the church.
As I got closer I saw a man leaned up against the wall outside the church. He was almost laying down as if he was asleep. He had on a long trench coat that was almost in shreds and a hat topped his head, pulled down so you couldn’t see his face.
He wore shoes that looked 30 years old, too small for his feet, with holes all over them, his toes stuck out. I assumed this man was homeless, and asleep, so I walked on by through the doors of the Church.
We all enjoy fellowship for a few minutes, and…
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A little encouragement here for those scenes that fight to be written.
Sometimes when we write, the ideas tumble out in a dizzy onslaught that our fingers can barely keep pace with. Perhaps we are doing something unassuming, such as a task that does not require our mind’s involvement, and a scene unravels in such rapid and startling detail that we dash off for our computer, or failing that a trusty pen and pad.
At other times we have done some planning, and we know roughly what needs to transpire in a scene. We sit down at our keyboard with predetermined intent.
There are two ways this can go in my opinion.
Sometimes the story chugs out like train carriages passing through a station. The ideas are orderly. They flow into one another without urgency, but always the next waits to fall into place just as you need it. You can see where you are, but only the next sentence is ever revealed. I often find this style yields the most surprises…
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Books Many of you do not know what your kids are reading. You have not checked. You have no idea, so I will have to tell you. I'm going to open a few of the books. I will not say the bad words. I'll just spell them. Kay's note: I won't spell them; I'll just … Continue reading Satan’s Bid For Your Child Part 3
Keys to writing great dialoge. reblogged from wofeauthor.wordpress.com. Great site.
“Get over it,” I muttered without missing a keystroke.
He leaned forward and sneered at me. I felt his glare boring into the side of my head. “You made me sound like damned amateur,” he said, separating out each syllable. “I wouldn’t even trust me based on that.”
I stopped typing and breathed in a cleansing breath before turning to him, smiling. “Get over it,” I whispered and then winked.
When I turned to resume typing, he stood abruptly. Though I continued to type, I wondered if he was about to cross the room and give me a beating. A mild wave of relief flooded my chest as he stomped away.
“Payback’s a bitch,” he said under his breath…
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Very good advice here. Want to keep this handy.
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