Eight Nights at The Harris Hotel by Celia Miles

Congratulations to a wonderful author and dear friend, Celia Miles, on the publication of a new one that I look forward to reading.  She will have a book signing next month. It's in conjunction with the cover artist who is the gallery's Artist of the Month; 

Mrs. Wheeler, a rich elderly widow, arrives at The Harris Hotel, on the Hebridean island Lewis and Harris off the Scottish coast.

There her memories of a dust bowl youth, military service, Chicago’s business and art venues, along with multiple marriage interweave with a guest’s murder.

With the help of her young aide from the island, Mrs. Wheeler is determined to solve the crime … even when experience and innocence are sometimes at odds.

“Mrs. Wheeler is not an especially lovable character—rich, used to being in charge—but she is capable of depth under her commercial façade,” Miles says. “Her young attendant is told to ‘obey, not to question’, but in trying to solve a murder at the hotel they begin to understand each other, if not always agreeing. They find they have a similar past and that they do what has to be done to manage.”

Read a Review from The Laurel of Asheville

Read an indepth interview with Celia Miles on Netwest Writers.

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.

Getting Better all the Time

I was asked to be a Beta reader for a man who is writing a self-help book. I feared it would be boring and amateurish, but he sent me the first two chapters and I was delighted to read an interesting and very informative book. 

His theme is Changing Your Mindset.

That is what I am working on for myself. I am seeing a holistic Physical Therapist and she has helped me more than all the specialists, heart, lung and ENT. The specialists give me many tests. Then I am given pills for what they think is needed. Or they find nothing wrong with me. 

Shortness of Breath is my main complaint and excess fatigue. Even a slight exertion period and my battery has expired. It all began when I had my first COVID-19 attack. Now, after four rounds of COVID, no doctor has an explanation as to why this is happening. 

But my holistic PT has given me the tools to overcome the SOB. First I learned to concentrate on breathing through my nose and not with my mouth. I practice deep breathing exercising all day. It makes a big difference.

Some of her treatments are painful at first, but they help me. 

Her videos are on YouTube and I go there to repeat them over and over. Each treatment is at least one hour long. Between her and my functional chiropractor I feel an improvement in my whole body and my mind.

I don't like taking prescription medicine. Each one has side-effects and usually they are harmful to me. Many older people are taking tons of pills and most are to treat the side-effects of others. 

I hope to get off the "Medical Merry-go - round" and rely on my own knowledge of what I need and what I want. At this stage of life, I am shooting for a good quality of life. I just want to awake with no pain and have energy to write, to work in my deck garden and enjoy my little Lexie. She makes me laugh every day. I want to be able to drive my car up to the mountains, alone, if necessary. 

Drawing by Gabe Council  

As we age, we must accept that some things are more than enough and we might never be able to hike a difficult trail, to stand for long periods, to sit in a crowded room with strangers. As a hyper-sensitive person, loud noises are too much for me. Crowded spaces make me uncomfortable, and I need more sleep now.

However, life is good and I am enjoying the small things, the conversations with health workers, laughter with my sister, watching the hummers at my feeder, and the Cardinals that visit often to eat at the other bird feeder. 

I picked two small tomatoes off my vine on the deck and a green one is slowly blushing. I am very grateful for the cooler weather we have had this week, but not so happy with the mosquitoes that leave me itching if I am outside for long. 

 The lake will be busy and noisy with all the vacationers this weekend. I liked to sit and enjoy the quiet times and write poems. 

I hope my readers and friends enjoy this long weekend here in the USA. Take a break from the political news and only watch good movies that are uplifting and make you smile. Enjoy your family if you have them close and if not, call them. Many of our Solo Seniors wait for the calls, but we need to initiate them. 

Above all, be kind and caring, love they neighbor even if they are not on your political spectrum. One of the things I miss are the friendships lost because of ideological differences. I think I will send a note to one of them now.

Thanks for reading. Come back soon.

This weekend was good medicine for me.

Gay and I drove up to the mountains and I attended a poetry workshop lead by Rosemary Royston. After the class ended, some of us had lunch together at the Sundance Grill on Main Street in Hiawassee, GA.

In our NCWN-West local group, Murphy and Hayesville NC and in Young Harris and Hiawassee, GA we have two poetry critique groups, and three meetings for readings and Open Mic. I am told we have too many writers' events each month and some cannot attend them all. I understand, and no one is expected to attend them all. I couldn't when I lived there. We have a very active group of writers who have been successful in publishing, and we have many eager new writers who feel very welcome and happy to be a part of this mountain program.

You might notice our one man in the photo above. David Plunkett is our publicity coordinator and we held the workshop Saturday at his office in Hiawassee. He is a very important person who is always willing to volunteer and help when needed.

On the left in the photo is Carroll Taylor who is the Georgia Representative for NCWN-West, and she holds an online gathering each month for writers, Mountain Wordsmiths on Zoom. She is one of the people I depend on, who works well with me, and helps keep our program working. She welcomes writers and those who just want to listen to poems and stories. Contact her and she will send the link so you can join us.

In the back of the photo, in pink, is one of the original members, excellent poet, Janice Moore. She and Nancy Simpson, poet and teacher, led our early poetry critique groups in the 90s. 

Others in the photo are on the right, Lorraine Bennett, Rosemary Royston, and Mary Ricketson. On the left side, next to Carroll, is Donna Beal, who treated Gay and me to dinner, and Cynthia Francis. All of these folks write poetry or novels. 

Out of the photo, my sister, Gay sat beside me as I made the photos. Without my dear sister, I could not have been with my old friends at this time. She enjoyed them, she said, and I know they all think the world of her.

I am inspired to get my writing out of my computer and submitted to publishers in the coming weeks. Wish me luck.

Thanks for stopping by. Let me hear from you in the comments or elsewhere.

Stay safe in this hot, hot weather, and keep your pets safe, also. The heat and hot pavement is bad for our pups.

Glenda Beall, 

co-author of Paws, Claws, Hooves, Feathers and Fins

Author of Now Might as Well be Then.

gcbmoountaingirl@gmail.com

Poetry Class with Rosemary Royston

Rosemary Royston

NCWN-West is holding a poetry workshop with outstanding poet, Rosemary Royston, author of several books. She teaches annually at the John C. Campbell Folk School in their writing program. To learn more about Rosemary, Google Rosemary Royston poet. She holds an MFA in Writing from Spalding University. Read some of her poetry here.

Rosemary’s chapbook, Splitting the Soil, is available through Finishing Line Press and Amazon.

I have known Rosemary for many years. 

She was a member of the North Carolina Writers' Network. She served as Program Coordinator for NCWN-West. 

Visit her new website: https://www.stitchandstories.com/general-1

We always had a full class when Rosemary taught at Writers Circle around the Table, my studio in Hayesville. 

I like this description of Rosemary's book, Second Sight:

Rosemary Royston’s poems speak in the tongues of rural folks in a way that only a linguistical conjurer could have managed. She takes her readers on a tour through Appalachia and its cultures—showing the reader creek bottoms, retold Garden of Eden stories, and her grandmother’s medicine cabinet. Royston is an eloquent wordsmith who tenderly crafts each word, each line, and each stanza. This collection of Royston’s is honest, timely, and beautiful. It is a love letter to Appalachia and rural people everywhere who often don’t get their stories told in such a powerful and compassionate manner.

If you write poetry, no matter what level, you will enjoy and learn from taking this class. 

Location: 355 Main St. N, Suite C, Hiawassee, GA 30582

Date and time: July 26, 2025  - 10:00 AM- 12:00 

Registration: Fee: $40  For registration information contact gcbmountaingirl@gmail.com 

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IT IS NEVER TOO LATE TO FOLLOW YOUR DREAM

                  Gay in action 

In the photo above, my sister is doing what she loves to do -- dancing! 

She dances in competitions and in showcases with her instructor, and she comes home with awards. She laughs and says it's not hard to win because she's not competing with young women, but with others in her age category. However, few of the dancers fall into her category. I don't know anyone who can do what she does at her age or even much younger. But Gay said there is a woman in her 90s who continues to go out and dance. 

Gay is a winner because she practices and learns many dances to compete and participate. I asked her if she gets nervous, and she says not when she dances. 

I remember the young girl who was shy and would not speak in front of a group, but I also recall the young woman who choreographed a dance, created her own costume, and entered the Miss Albany contest. A man who headed a dance group in our hometown was present, and he was impressed. He invited Gay to join his group. She danced with them until the group disbanded. 

She joined the Modern Dance Club at the University, and she danced as often as possible.

Last year, Gay wore a red dress 

                Gay earned a Master's degree in Counseling.

She has certainly needed to use those skills with me during the past couple of years as I moved and became overwhelmed with downsizing and selling my house. She has always been there when I needed her, and I don't know how I would manage without her. She has the temperament of our mother. I wish I did.

I am so happy she is strong and enjoying life. It was just a few years ago that she began taking dancing lessons. Before too long, her husband began taking dancing lessons as well. He doesn't dance in competitions like she does. She found a terrific teacher, Chris, and says she enjoys simply taking lessons.  

Dancing is a wonderful exercise, and it is especially good for older people. It helps with balance, posture, and flexibility. It sure beats going to the gym, I think.

Gay and Stu, her kind and caring husband, go out with friends, sing in the church choir, and often take me out to dinner or lunch.

Although it was difficult for me to leave my home in the mountains, I am blessed to have a home with them and blessed that they both love Lexie. They take her to the dog park or for walks at a park nearby. 

I am grateful that I have and always have had a loving family. I am sorry for anyone who doesn't have close family members. We might disagree, have arguments, or even get angry with each other, but in no time, all is forgotten, and we are laughing together. I hope you find love and laughter in your world and hug someone you love this week. 

Writing Stories about Ourselves

I am happy to announce that I will be teaching another memoir writing class through the Institute of Continuing Learning, an adult education program at Young Harris College in Young Harris, Georgia.

The class will be taught online using Zoom. I have been teaching these classes online since the pandemic, and I enjoy them. Now that I don't live near Young Harris, GA, I am grateful they allow me to teach through their program. I used to teach there in person, and I will always remember the interesting students I met in my classes. 

Now that my life has taken a significant turn, I am glad I started using Zoom back in 2020. I moved from North Carolina in September of 2024 to north of Atlanta. My sister and generous brother-in-law built an apartment for me in the daylight basement of their house. I have a lovely deck overlooking a small lake where I hear the ducks quacking during the day and see turtles sunning themselves on a floating log in the middle of the water. Trees are thick on both sides of me, so I feel I am in the woods even though I am living in the city.

I continue to work with my writing groups in western NC as Program Coordinator, and the members seem to appreciate my involvement. I assume, when they no longer need my help, they will let me know.

My new class will begin on Monday, June 30, 3 - 5 PM, and continue for the next two Mondays, 3- 5 PM, July 7 and July 14.

To register for the class, go to www.ICLYHC.org and JOIN ICL first. There is a fee of $35.00. Then click on Courses and register for the class. Fee is $25 for the six hours of class. 

The title is Writing Stories about Ourselves. 

In my classes, we write short pieces, a maximum of 2000 words each week, based on prompts I offer the students. We are not writing a memoir in class, but learning how to write our true stories so they will be as interesting as a fictional story. Students learn about characterization, using place or setting to tell the story, using dialogue and action to build tension and keep the reader interested right up to the last word written.

Too many of our memoirs are stuck up on a high shelf in the homes of family members because the writer did not know how to keep the reader entertained and wondering what was going to happen next.

When we open a novel and begin reading, we want the writer to arouse our curiosity on the first page or at least the first chapter, and, if he doesn't, we often put the book aside unread. In today's culture, it is a fact that our attention span has become extremely short. We now read short emails and texts, or watch TV shows that grab us in the first scene, so we want to know what will happen next. Looking at screens all day, scrolling constantly for the next little bit of content has created a difference in how we read books.

In a memoir, we want to tell the truth, the facts, but we must do so in a way that entertains our readers. That is my mission in my classes: to help my students learn how to entertain as well as inform. 

We are storytellers, and we know that a good story has a beginning, a middle, and an end. So our written memories must have the same. 

Join us in our summer classes on Zoom. You meet the nicest people and often form a bond of friendship with someone who was a perfect stranger until you began sharing stories in class.

Remember, you have a unique story and no one can tell that story but you.

 

Radiant Blues by Joan Howard

My dear friend and fellow poet, Joan M. Howard, has published this beautiful book of poems, Radiant Blues.

Being a woman of a certain age—like me—Joan's subjects are relatable to ageing, and beautifully written. She lost her husband to illness some years ago, and that has also been a bond between us. I admire her for many reasons, one of which is that she kayaks on Lake Chatuge. She walks on the dam almost every day. She keeps moving outdoors. She lives on the lake and has easy access to the water.

Insight

by Joan Howard  

If he could see home now, what would he think?  

Cobwebs in his study, meticulous  

order through the workshop littered—clutter  

on his saws! The deck chair from pressurized wood  

he built her, gray and broken in the yard.  

"You don't like change," he said; she had preserved  

it all—every bowl, table, tray, jigsawed  

masterpiece, and his ashes by her bed.  

But yet, outside had transformed.  

Camellias he'd planted from pots as tall as some trees,  

magnolia, lilies, gardenia blooming,  

sparse brown lawn grass a soft green moss cover.  

If he looks, she sees him everywhere, in  

the weathered trellis, spring daffodils—his?

Three Women on the Dam

We walked for years, three women on the dam—  

divorced or married, widowed. We all knew  

each other well—three miles, four days a week,  

kept secrets of suffering, heroics.  

Once Kathy said that sun and cloud could make  

a living halo in daylight. I scoffed.  

Years later though, in heavy morning mist,  

low eastern sun behind us, it was there:  

our three heads surrounded by green-gold light,  

distinguished each one, bodies a pure black  

in shadowed pantomime, our heads radiant,  

transformed, moments long, an epiphany.  

                                        ----Joan Howard