So not only did you teach me about writing memoir, you also taught me about reading and thinking about how others write memoir. Thank you so much! Rebecca
Showing posts with label Paws. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Paws. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 22, 2020

Help us Help Others

From now until June 1, Estelle Rice and I are offering our proceeds from the sale of Paws, Claws, Hooves, Feathers and Fins to the Clay County Food Pantry when you order from City Lights Books in Sylva, NC.  This volunteer organization feeds many people and the need is large right not.

City Lights is offering a reduced price for shipping as their way of donating.

Send a book to a friend who is staying home for protection from COVID-19.

Signing books last December - It is a great gift to have on hand for those random times you need one.
Remember a birthday coming up and send this delightful book of stories and poems about domestic pets, dogs, cats, horses and birds.

This is what author Lisa Turner said about our book:

 Evokes those special memories and relationships with our animal friends

"The emotional experiences with our beloved pets are captured in poetic detail and images in these wonderful stories in Paws, Claws, Hooves, Feathers and Fins. Our human lives are so enriched by the special relationships we have with all creatures large and small, and these stories capture this delicate and powerful drama so much that we will enjoy reading them again and again. Highly recommend."

Reviewed in the United States on April 11, 2020

Sunday, July 7, 2019

Kindle books are such a good deal.

Do you read books on your Kindle? 
Click on this link and find Paws, Claws, Hooves, Feathers and Fins by Glenda Beall and Estelle Rice. 
This book is the perfect gift for an animal lover, dogs, cats, rabbits or horses. You will smile and maybe shed a tear, but it will be a happy tear.

For only $5.99 you can read and see the color pictures of our characters and other members of our family on your Kindle. Kodi, on the cover, was a gorgeous dog and such a sweetheart.
 Let me know how you like it.

Learn more here.

With my Kindle and my IPad, I have everything I need to keep me reading. But I still like the traditional books. You can tell by my bookcases all over my house. One day I hope to read all those books.

I bought another book Sunday. Val Nieman's new poetry book, The Leopard Lady, a Life in Verse.  Can't wait to get into it.

What have you read lately that you recommend?

Monday, February 25, 2019

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.

Thanks Maureen for all your support.

Thursday, November 8, 2018

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
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. 

Saturday, September 15, 2018

Joan and Paula get out the news

I am behind in my blog posts, but I invite my readers to check out these articles you will find online.

Thanks to Joan Gage for this post on Netwest Writers blog.

A big thank you to Paula Canup for this article in our local newspapers.

This is Estelle Rice co-author of this book.

Deadline to order at discount price of $14.00 plus $3.00 S&H is September 20.
Regular retail price is $16.00 plus $3.00 S&H
This book will make great Christmas gifts for anyone who has a pet, who loves animals, who used to have a beloved pet.

To order: Make check or money order to Estelle Rice or Glenda Beall.
 Mail to Blue Heaven Press, PO Box 843, Hayesville, NC 28904


Monday, September 3, 2018

Do you like to listen to podcasts? Do you read fiction or nonfiction?

I am in love with podcasts. I listen to them while I work around the house, at my desk and in bed at night. One of my favorites is Clear and Vivid, with host Alan Alda. The theme is communication. Recently Ann Patchett, author, was his guest. She said that Women read Fiction and Men read more Nonfiction. I would not have thought that to be true. Of course, I know many women read romance novels, and beach reads, but I thought men would be reading the mysteries and thrillers. My father enjoyed western novels.
I used to read fiction all the time. I lost myself in stories about other people, other times, other lands, and hated for a good book to end. From the time I was a child and read all the horse books in the book mobile to reading Ayn Rand in college, totally engrossed in the characters and the philosophy of each character. My early books were Little Women and the Yearling. Later I read Gone with the Wind. I was a big fan of these books. I was addicted to books when I was younger.

I liked those huge historical novels by James Mitchener, also, and books about large families that fought and made up and always loved each other, somewhat like my own. While I still have memories of scenes in the books, I can't remember the title or the authors of most of them. I like to read John Grisham for escape, or I used to read his books. Now I listen on Audible. I like Joslyn Jackson, a prolific Georgia writer and really enjoyed books by Haven Kimel, a North Carolina writer. Recently I listened to a memoir, Dimestore, by the author, Lee Smith. Very interesting book. She is a most interesting lady.

Lee Smith, author

I have no Sirius Radio in my car now. I canceled my subscription because I kept losing the signal here in the mountains. So I listen to podcasts while I drive.

I will not be teaching any classes at Writers Circle studio until next year. So I have a long time to catch up on reading and writing.

But first, I and my friend, Estelle, will be reading from our new book, Paws, Claws, Hooves, Feathers and Fins, and signing books wherever we get an opportunity. If you would like to have us come to a meeting or business once we get our books in hand, about mid-September, let us know. It must be within driving distance of Hayesville, NC.

We will be reading at the John C. Campbell Folk School in Brasstown, NC on Thursday, September 20, 7:00 PM. Come out and join us.

Sunday, August 5, 2018

From 2014, a dog story people seemed to like

Glenda Beall

It was summer and the hot August sun beat down on the fields and pastures surrounding our white frame farmhouse in southwest Georgia.  My sister Gay and I played with our dolls on the covered front porch while Fluffy, a black curly dog near the front screen-door, slept. She had been given to us when she was a puppy, and we loved her. I often buried my face in her soft fur and squeezed her in a tight hug. She licked my face to show me she loved me as well. Wherever Gay and I played, under the huge oak tree beside the house or on the porch, Fluffy was always close by as if she had appointed herself babysitter.

Our playtime was interrupted when Mother rushed out on the porch, grabbed each of us by the arm and hurried us inside.  We were forced to leave our dolls and Fluffy behind.

Being grabbed so quickly and seeing my usually calm mother in such a dither, I cried, “Mother, what’s wrong?”

“There’s a strange dog in the yard.  He looks dangerous. Stay inside until he’s gone," she said.

It was then we saw through the screen door, the large brown dog coming from behind the house.  Mother had noticed him from the kitchen window, his muzzle white with foam, slobber dripping down in long streams. He seemed intent on a mission, looking for a victim.

Mother called to Fluffy, "Come here, come inside, Fluffy."

But Fluffy would not come. Mother did not believe in having pets in the house. Fluffy had never been inside. She ran down the steps heading for the place where she felt secure, her bed under the porch. It was the only refuge she knew.

The strange dog saw her and followed. In minutes we heard Fluffy’s pitiful yelps. I wanted to go to her. I pushed on the screen door, but Mother would not let me open it. I stood safely inside and called Fluffy until she finally came up on the porch. I let out a sigh of relief. I saw no blood. She looked fine to me. I wanted to run out to her and give her a big hug. There was no sign of another dog in the yard.

“He didn’t hurt her, Mother,” I said. “She’s not bleeding or anything.”

Still, Mother insisted we stay inside away from Fluffy who was back on the porch, licking her fur, cleaning herself of the terrible ordeal she had experienced.

My father and brothers came home for the noonday meal, and Daddy examined our friendly pet. He found bite wounds we had not seen. The rabid dog had done the damage. Daddy locked Fluffy in a cage beside the barn. She would be fed and given fresh water as he watched for signs of illness. She was quarantined, a word my sister and I did not know.

Her sad brown eyes begged for our pats and hugs, and when we approached she wagged her bushy tail. But we could only talk to her from a distance and tell her how sorry we were that she had to stay in the cage.  We missed her and every day we asked, “How much longer does she have to stay shut up?”

One day Gay and I went out to visit Fluffy and found the cage shut tight, but our beloved dog was not there.

“Mother, Fluffy’s gone. What happened to her?” I ran inside to the person who always made things right. Tears ran down my cheeks. Somehow I knew she couldn't fix this problem. She seemed as sad as I was, but I couldn't help my anger toward her. If only Fluffy had been an inside pet.

We were little girls and no one wanted to tell us Fluffy had to be euthanized. Daddy said she must have gotten out of the cage somehow. He evidently wanted us to believe she escaped and wondered away. Even today my older brother tells me he doesn't know what happened to our pet.

I knew Fluffy would never have left us. No matter what we were told, Gay and I believed she had been destroyed. I vowed then and there, at the age of six, that when I was grown up and had my own house, I’d have my own dog, and he would sleep in the house and even sleep in my bed so that I could protect him.

We had other dogs as I grew up. They were family pets. Brit was an English Shepherd that was killed when she was run over in our yard by a neighbor kid.  Turbo, a purebred cocker Spaniel, was given to us by an Air Force officer who was going overseas. That was a big mistake. That fine animal deserved a home where he was groomed daily and fed treats, curled up by the fireplace. Instead he ran out and collected sand-spurs and burrs in his lush coat. He went to the field with my brothers and my father. Turbo rode in the pickup and acted like a hound dog. He disappeared one day, and we never saw him again. I always hoped he had found a better place to live.

One week after my wedding day, I was finally able to fulfill the promise I had made to myself. My husband Barry, who also loved dogs, gave me a puppy, a miniature black poodle, that we named Brandy.  This lovable little animal quickly owned our house and both of us. In many ways he looked like Fluffy with his dark curly coat, his deep expressive eyes that could read my mind. For nineteen years I kept him safe in spite of his mischievous ways, his daredevil personality, and his stubbornness. But one afternoon, his old body gave out as he slept in our bedroom. It was raining. Barry was out of town. Alone, I buried him under the trees behind our back yard.

Since that time I've opened my heart to other dogs – Nicki and Kodi, the Samoyeds, so pristine white, always smiling and loving – Rocky, the rescued mix, who was Barry’s dog, but won my heart even as I grieved for Kodi. We protected them well, loved them and they loved us.

Each one had his own personality, his peculiar traits just the way humans do. They all lived long and good lives except for Nicki who died at the age of two from a mysterious malady no one understood. All of them lived in our house and Brandy slept in our bed. The bigger dogs had their own beds or slept wherever they wanted.

Rabies is a terrible disease, and found in wild animals in our area even today. I am grateful that my mother was vigilant enough to protect my sister and me, even if she couldn't save sweet Fluffy.
Did you ever see a rabid animal or have a pet bitten by one?

Paws, Claws, Hooves, Feathers and Fins by Glenda Beall and Estelle Rice will be available early in September. $16.00
Order now and get a discount: Contact for ordering information.

 "Glenda Beall and Estelle Rice have documented that unique companionship offered by our furred, finned, and feathered friends. The community of animal lovers will cheer for the poodle who rode motorcycles, the rabbit that went to college, and all the other remarkable pets in these pages. It’s a pleasure to spend time with these creatures in a book that is funny, poignant, and full of warmth. 
--Carol Crawford, poet, writer, teacher, owner of Carol Crawford Editing

Sunday, March 18, 2018

Writers’ Night Out Announces 2018 Schedule

Karen Paul Holmes began Writers' Night Out in Blairsville several years ago and it is one of my favorite literary events in our area. She has created another outstanding schedule of readers for this year. I am excited, of course, that Estelle Rice and I are on this schedule. We will read in November from our soon to be released book, Paws, Claws, Hooves, Feathers and Fins, Stories and Poems about Our Pets and Other Creatures. 

Writers’ Night Out begins its eighth season on April 13 and continues the second Friday of the month through November. Featured readers present their work at 7 p.m., and an open microphone follows, where audience members can share three minutes of their own poetry or prose. The event is free and open to the public and takes place at the Union County Community Center in Blairsville, GA.

The 2018 schedule of featured readers from North Carolina and Georgia

April 13: Mike James and Michael Walls
May 18: Jennifer Lux and Rupert Fike
June 8: Michelle Castleberry and Karen Paul Holmes
July 13: Joan Howard and Jane Simpson
Aug 10: Kimberly Simms and Mary Ricketson
Sept 14: Robert Kendrick and Janice Moore
Oct 12: Danielle Hanson and Loren Leith
Nov 9: Glenda Beall and Estelle Rice

April reader, Mike James, is the author of eleven poetry collections. His most recent books include: Crows in the Jukebox (Bottom Dog, 2017), My Favorite Houseguest (FutureCycle, 2017), and Peddler’s Blues (Main Street Rag, 2016.) 

His work has appeared in over 100 magazines throughout the country in such places as Tar River Poetry, Soundings East, and Laurel Review. He has also been active as an editor for The Kentucky Review, Autumn House Press, and his own Yellow Pepper Press. After years spent in South Carolina, Missouri, Pennsylvania, and Georgia, he now makes his home in Chapel Hill, NC with his large family and a large assortment of cats. 

 James will also teach a poetry class on April 14 at Writers Circle in Hayesville, NC. For more information, visit . (see the studio schedule)

Michael Walls has had poetry published in a variety of journals and magazines including The New York Quarterly, South Carolina Review, Atlanta Review, Chattahoochee Review, Poetry East, The Midwest Quarterly and others. 

His chapbook is The Blues Singer and his full-length collection is Stacking Winter Wood (Kelsay Books/Aldrich Press, 2017). His poems and articles have also appeared in law reviews and journals. He is a retired labor lawyer who now spends his time working as a volunteer on environmental and other issues, hiking, hanging out with friends and family, writing poems and letters to the editor, and listening to rock and roll, blues and jazz. He spends time in Atlanta and the North Georgia Mountains.

Writers’ Night Out is sponsored by North Carolina Writers’ Network-West. The Union County Community Center is located at Butternut Creek Golf Course at 129 Union County Recreation Rd., Blairsville, Georgia 30512, off Highway 129 near the intersection of US 76, phone (706) 439-6092.

Food is available for purchase in The View Grill, but please arrive by 6 pm to get served.  For more information on Writers’ Night, contact Karen Holmes at (404) 316-8466 or