In the Dark

Going through my poems from years ago, I read this one. It was published by Jayne Jaudon Ferror on Your Daily Poem. I still get emotional when I read it.

In the Dark by Glenda Council Beall Next

I lie here in bed, my cheek against your shoulder, remembering a night, long ago, on your boat. I was afraid. I felt too much, too fast. But you were tender, and love crept over us like silver fog, silent on the lake. We were never again the same. We stepped like children through that door that led to long passages unknown, holding hands, wide-eyed, but brave. Here I am years later, listening to your soft breath and feeling your warm smooth skin. In the dark, now might as well be then. From Now Might As Well Be Then (Finishing Line Press, 2009) Used with the author's permission.

Writing classes for 2024 Instructor Glenda Beall

Classes are taught via Zoom - Register to receive your invitation to participate.

Instructor: Glenda Council Beall

Glenda is a very capable, empathic, and insightful writing teacher, who creates and sustains a safe, warm space for students to learn and become successful writers.

Most of her students are beginning writers, and Glenda wants them to feel comfortable when they share their writing with others. She is a firm believer in encouragement rather than criticism but always finds ways to help writers improve their work without embarrassing them or making them feel defeated. 

Writing Your Memories into Stories for Your Family or for Publication

Tuesdays – 6:00 – 8:00 PM - January 23 and 30 - February 13

Fee: 60.00  for three classes

Online with Zoom

There are reasons why certain memories stay with us. We don’t remember everything that has happened in our lives, but we remember those things that made a difference.

Why are they important to us? 

Who are the people in our lives we want to remember and tell their stories so our children and grandchildren will know them as well?

What do you want your family to know about your life and why? Today young people hardly know their grandparents’ history, where they were born, what they did for work, and what tragedies or successes they had. We don’t sit on the porch and talk like our parents once did. Unless you write your unique story, no one will know it.  

We all have individual stories, and we can learn to write them to inform and enlighten our readers.  You might think your family is not interested in your story, but one day they will be so glad you took the time to write it.

In class, we share our stories and receive feedback from our peers that help us know what is good and what might need some more work. Each student gets individual attention from me with suggestions on how to make his/her story the best it can be.

My classes are for beginning and intermediate writers, published or non-published.

For registration information: gcbmountaingirl@gmail.com 

Poetry by Glenda

I am going to break my rule on posting poetry that has not been published. 

I would like for people to read my poetry and find something in it that is meaningful to them. If they read it on my blog or in a book, matters not to me.

This past week has been a hard one, and this poem says it all for me.

 A Place of New Beginnings

I wish there were some wonderful place 

we could go to begin anew, 

where all our grief and heartaches, 

could be dropped like a shabby old coat 

at the door, never to wear again.

In this place where all is fresh,
the sun would shine through gentle rain.

Snow would melt in our warm hands
before it could freeze a single rose.

In a land of new beginnings, only joy
would make us weep. No hurt, no pain
would scar our thinking capability.
We’d leave it all behind
like the wake of a ship on blue seas.

I wish there were a place like this
where mourning ceases to exist. I’d go
there, never leave. I’d breathe the pristine
atmosphere, feel healing flow through me,
shedding uncertainty like a chameleon sheds its skin.

                                                ---Glenda Council Beall

Not out of Print - find it here

https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/now-might-as-well-be-then-by-glenda-council-beall/

A poem from Now Might as Well be Then

A Very Old Photograph                          by                              Glenda Council Beall  Shy with the camera, she stands in her white sailor dress one arm behind her back. Her dark eyes, so much like mine, glance right. Her lips almost smile. I wish I had known her then. We’d have been friends, going to pound suppers, singing alto in the church choir. She was loved as I was loved, sheltered by Mama, strengthened by her Papa’s expectations. How could she have imagined ageing? Certainly not at fourteen and looking so lovely. She never thought she’d grow old, lose her memory, and depend on me, her daughter, to care for her.

From Now Might As Well Be Then (Finishing Line Press, 2009) Purchase a framed print of this poem.

Creative Writing Class in March 2020 open for registration now

We will soon be welcoming Spring and that means I will be teaching my Creative Writing Class at Tri-County Community College. If your writing has just gone stale and you can't seem to make yourself sit down and put words on paper, take this class. If you are a new writer and need some help from friendly folks, just like you, and a teacher who remembers what it was like in the beginning, register for this class. 

We will meet on Monday evenings, March 9 - March 30 at 6 - 8 PM on the campus of TCCC.

Description:
Creative Writing: Perhaps you want to write about yourself or other people you know, places you have been or family history. Perhaps you have always had stories wandering around in your brain and you want to write fiction. Not sure? Your questions will be answered to help you discover your writing niche. This class is for aspiring writers or others who need motivation to put words on paper.

Join this informative class and learn from Glenda Council Beall who lives in the mountains of western North Carolina and whose work has been widely published since 1996 in numerous journals, magazines and online reviews.  She is also the author of three books.

Eight hours of instruction, Mondays, 6:00 PM – 8:00 PM at Tri-County Community College   $50.00

Register with Lisa Long, Director of Community Outreach, by calling 828-835-4241 or email her: LLong@tricountycc.edu

Comment from a writing student in 2018:

Glenda Beall's studio creates a safe atmosphere where I can be vulnerable in my learning, my writing and the group's critics. She imbues a tenderness of spirit that is contagious. It manifests as a well- grounded kindness that encourages the person and supports the writing process. ...Thank you, Glenda, for your many years of service to the writing communities. Sincerely and with much gratitude… Ayer G. (writing student, 2018)

Another former student:
Yours was the first writing course I’ve taken in years and you gave me not only many wonderful insights but lots of fun and very welcome encouragement....I’ve been thinking about applying for a low residency MFA program as I transition into retirement (again).
--- Don B. - student in class at John C. Campbell Folk School.

Our classes at TCCC are fun and informative. I am always delighted when the students say they don't want the classes to end.
No pressure, just encouragement and tips from knowledge I gleaned from my teachers and all the workshops I have taken for twenty-five years. Beginners are welcome. We will help you get your thoughts and memories on the page.
Put the dates on your calendar now and sign up now. 
Remember, if the class is not full a week before March 9, it might be cancelled.

Teaching again in March 2020

Instructor: Glenda Council Beall

Creative Writing: Perhaps you want to write about yourself or other people you know, places you have been or family history. Perhaps you have always had stories wandering around in your brain and you want to write fiction. Not sure? Your questions will be answered to help you discover your writing niche. This class is for aspiring writers or others who need some motivation to put words on paper.

Join this informative class and learn from Glenda Council Beall who lives in the mountains of western North Carolina and whose work has been widely published since 1996 in numerous journals, magazines and online reviews.  

Eight hours of instruction, Mondays, 6:00 PM – 8:00 PM at Tri-County Community College   $50.00

Register by calling or emailing Lisa T. Long, Director of community Outreach/Assistant Director of Foundation.   828.835.4241
Email: LLong@tricountycc.edu  

Glenda says:
I am happy to be returning to TCCC for a four week class in March, 2020.
Please help get the word out. The class has to meet the minimum in order to make.

Tuition to this class would make a wonderful Christmas present for the writer in your life.

Order: Paws, Claws, Hooves, Feathers and Fins by Glenda Beall and Estelle Rice now as an e-book on Kindle.  Order a Kindle edition at: https://tinyurl.com/yaer6vsd

Appearing Thursday evening, Glenda Beall, Michelle Keller and Jim Davis at JCCFS

I will be performing with my friend, Mary Michelle Keller  this Thursday, October 17, 7:00 PM at the John C. Campbell Folk School in Brasstown, NC.

We would love to see our friends in the audience at the Keith House, Community Room.

Mary Mike and I have prepared a program of poems on similar themes and we will take turns reading instead of one person reading for twenty minutes and the other person reading for an allotted time.

Jim Davis is also on the program that evening. Jim writes true stories about his eventful life.

The folk school students often turn out for our programs, and I hope they are present this week.

The Literary Hour, our monthly event at the folk school, has been ongoing for over twenty years. 

To read about me and the others on the program, click on this link:  https://netwestwriters.blogspot.com/2019/10/the-literary-hour-readings-this.html

Time Management Tips for Writers

I am one of the writers who complain that we never have enough time to write although we claim that we love writing. Are you like me, planning to write, but thinking about other things like, I need to do laundry now, or I need to pay some bills before I forget about it, or I must clean out my refrigerator and on and on. Do you procrastinate about your writing?

At this link I found some good tips and you might like to check it out.
One that I like is scheduling my writing time on my calendar just as I do doctor's appointments.
Recently while discussing how overwhelmed I feel about what I have to do in the next month or two, I realized I must cut these tasks into manageable pieces.

I want to set aside a day for each project I am working on and not let anything else interrupt me.
One day I will only work on NCWN-West tasks. Another day I will plan my classes for Writers Circle around the Table. One day will be spent organizing my studio.

It is hard to write or do the things we really want to do when we are at home all day and have the responsibility of keeping house. Often the organizing gurus say, delegate some of the chores to your family members. Well - my little Lexie is not much help. She is an eleven pound canine who demands her feeding and her playing time. I have no human in my house to help me.

LEXIE

But, I can limit my telephone time, my online reading of blogs and other interesting sites, and make certain tasks top priority. What I can't do is stop the wasting of time with technology interruptions such as today when I could not get into my online bank account, or talk to a human being when I called about my credit card. Do you find that what is supposed to make life easier is often taking much more of our time because it is not working properly?

Anyway, I hope you are organized and find time to write and create what is waiting in your mind today. If you have any tips to help us, please leave a comment or email me.

Maureen Ryan Griffin featured Glenda in her WordZine today

I am delighted today that Maureen Ryan Griffin, poet, writer, writing instructor and owner of WordPlay, featured me, Glenda C. Beall, on her WordZine.

Maureen has been a friend of mine since I first met her at the John C. Campbell Folk School after signing up for one of her writing classes. She has set so many would be writers and poets on the path to publishing and I am one of them.
Check Maureen's Facebook page where you can read the article about me, Paws, Claws, Hooves, Feathers and Fins and some words about my co-writer, Estelle Rice.

https://www.facebook.com/WordPlayNow/

Thanks Maureen for all your support.

Some photos I like

The last photo of Barry and me, 2008, taken for my poetry book, Now Might as Well be Then, published in 2009

Winter at my house a few years ago. 

Winter in my woods

Brasstown Bald, highest peak in Georgia with dusting of snow.
Photo taken from my deck.

We walked this long road up to Connemara, home of poet Carl Sandburg, a few years ago. We spent the day there. I toured the home and learned much about this fascinating man. His wife raised champion goats. 

I am sick with a cold and not up to writing a post today. So I decided to post some photos I like.

Sailboat on the bay in Nova Scotia. I liked the cleanliness and fresh air. I could live there except I don't want to be so far from my family.

Bison graze at Yellowstone in 2003. This trip motivated me to write a number of poems. I will always remember the wildlife and the wonders of Yellowstone Park. I hope we will always have our national parks and national monuments.

Scene from Yellowstone’s Valiant Wild

By Glenda Council Beall

A young male strode down the mountainside,

crossed the road, strutted into shallow waters

of the Gallatin river. He stalked the old bull elk

grazing alone on the other side.

The herd master ignored the gauntlet for a while,

then quick like a rattler striking, charged from the bank. 

The clash of antlers cracked like breaking pines

in an ice storm, rolling sound upstream and down.

On land once more, the battle halted

while both tried to maneuver bony-branched horns

between the lodge pole pines. A minute’s rest--

then back into the current.

Strong hind quarters, taunt neck muscles, bunched

like iron cables, pushed, retreated, up and down

the icy stream. The match wore on for more

than twenty minutes.

Heads low, antlers commingled like old bones

collected in a basket, until the young stud forced

his aging foe beneath the water’s surface, held him there.

The veteran of a life of valiant clashes at last broke free.

He crashed and splashed downstream, the loser,

bleating like a lamb who's lost his mother.

Posing for cameras on the roadside,

the victor, centered in the roaring river,

raised his head and shook his massive rack.

He bugled his triumphant call to his new harem

A Story About a Dog

Today I will share an excerpt from Paws, Claws, Hooves, Feathers and Fins; Family Pets and God's Other Creatures by Estelle Rice and Glenda Beall

I have found that when you are deeply troubled, there are things you get from the silent devoted companionship of a dog that you can get from no other source.   ---Doris Day

Rescued by Love

By

Glenda Beall

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 weir, 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 there was no way I was 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.

This is part of a story you will find in the book and there are many more. 

Memories, from the corners of my mind

A Poem to celebrate an anniversary. On July 4th, 1963, I met the man I would marry.

The Walker Beach House

The house leans slightly toward the sea,

weathered silver by wind, rain and molten

streams of sunlight. The front porch stretching

north to south is furnished with a creaking

glider and two chairs that huddle and sag

like an old couple waiting for their sunset.

On the clothesline, two red towels flap

in a giddy summer folk dance. Precious

sea oats nod atop the tallest dunes.

I make my way along the narrow path between them

to the Atlantic lapping in eternal rhythm.

My artist mind brushes clouds on the horizon,

blending sky with the water's line.

I find you there sprawled on a blanket

smelling of coconut, defying the Big C

as you bake brown. My sandy foot nudges

yours and rasps you awake. We trudge

the path and shower by the porch.

After lunch we sleep together in Walker's bed. 

---Glenda Council Beall, from Now Might as Well Be Then, published by Finishing Line Press