Here's January's Post for the CWG Blog

Pick up the Orange

By Janice Lane Palko

Some people receive profound promptings from the Holy Spirit. Me? I get messages like “pick up the orange.”

A few weeks ago, I walked into my local grocery store and saw a woman select some oranges and put them in a plastic bag. As she walked away out of the corner of my eye, I saw an orange fall from the display and roll across the floor.

You should pick up the orange, said that still small voice.

Instantly, I began rationalizing. I didn’t dislodge the orange. Why should I pick it up? They have stock boys to do that. I’ll look stupid, like I have OCD or something, if I pick it up and put it back where it belongs. Let somebody else do it.

Then my better nature joined the debate. Will it kill you to pick up an orange? Geez, Mother Teresa picked up dying people from the streets, and you’re freaking out over an orange. How shallow are you? Who cares what people think? Someone may trip over it. You will be doing a good deed, no matter how insignificant.

So, I pushed my grocery cart over, picked up the orange, and put it back in the display. But then something else happened.

As I was about to press on with my grocery shopping, I caught a glimpse of a woman to my side bend and pick up another orange, one that I hadn’t even noticed had escaped with the other orange, and replace it in the display.

I was astounded. This woman was following my example.

That little interlude set me to thinking about life, and for those of us who write, about what our toils to turn a phrase may mean in the big scheme of things.

Several months ago, fellow CWG member Cathy Gilmore posted an article from the Catholic News Agency titled The Catholic Church Desperately Needs Artists by Mary Rezac. It detailed how the world so sorely needs creative people who can bring beauty and truth to the culture.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve been writing for more than twenty years, and the monetary return on my artistic endeavors has yet to land me a summer home at the beach, a six-figure deal, or a stint on Oprah.

I attend a weekly Bible study, and shortly after the orange incident, our leader asked us to share our all-time favorite inspirational books. One woman recommended He and I by Gabrielle Bossis, a French, Catholic woman who lived from 1874-1950. He and I chronicles the interior conversation she and God shared. When she was putting these conversations on paper, Bossis didn’t know that after her death, they would be published, translated into many languages, and cherished by so many readers.

At times, it may be frustrating when we think of how much time and effort we put into our literary endeavors compared to the remuneration we receive in turn. However, I don’t, and I’m sure many of you don’t, write solely for financial gain. Then, take heart, fellow creatives. Though we may never know the extent of our influence, like Bossis, our work may do good long after we are gone.
I don’t know if God intends for me to be a best-selling author or not. But what I do know is that I’ll be fine with whatever magnitude of success I achieve. I’ll continue to write and strive to bring beauty and truth to the world through my work with the hope of glorifying God.

I may be only a stepping stone for someone who comes after me, a toehold for another writer on their climb to achieving loftier success in reviving what has been a hallmark of the Catholic Church throughout its existence: excellence in artistic expression for the glory of God.
Therefore, as this new year begins, I’m going to pick up that orange and keep on writing. I urge you to do the same. You never know who is watching us or reading works or being inspired by our example. We don’t know who may decide to follow us, who may bend down to pick up that orange we didn’t even realize had also rolled away.

Keeping Up Appearances

The promo for my newest novel Most Highly Favored Daughter says "Appearances can be deceiving . . . and deadly." 

The protagonist, Cara Cavanaugh Hawthorne Wells, appears to have it all--a sterling reputation; the love and respect of her family, friends, and the public; beauty; and wealth, but as you learn from reading the novel, appearances are often not what they seem.

While Cara learns that appearances can be deceiving and often deadly, I recently learned that maintaining appearances can also be disastrous.

Does She or Doesn't She? Maybe She Shouldn't!

I'm pretty fortunate that I don't have many gray hairs, especially when considering that many of my Irish relatives on my dad's side had white "Phil Donahue" hair by the time they were thirty. Nevertheless, as I'm always plotting ahead, I thought I'd be smart and find a hair dye that matched my naturally dark brown hair before I would actually need to start coloring it for real. 

Early this spring, I dyed my entire mane to cover the few grays, and when no one asked me if I was going Goth or joining a Heavy Metal band, I considered my plan a success. Some even told me that I had the shiniest hair they'd ever seen. The only drawback was that I found dying my hair to be a messy affair. There were splashes on the bathroom wall that could only be touched up with paint. So I resolved that if and when I dyed the hair again, I'd do it in my basement.

Don't Try This at Home

Well, we have a wedding coming up this fall and a few of the grays have started to announce their silvery presence, so I thought I'd give the dye a whirl again. So last Saturday, I donned my special hair-dying robe--a bulky, teal blue terry affair with big white polka dots and a few holes--and headed to the laundry area of the basement. Feeling like a very smart do-it-yourselfer, I put Vaseline around my eyebrows (my brows are going gray faster than my hair--what's that all about?) around my hairline just as I'd seen hair stylists do to clients in the hair salon. I pulled on the plastic gloves, mixed the brown hair dye concoction, and put it all over my head. Then I swiped some dye across my brows before checking the clock in the game room and taking a seat on the basement steps where I was to wait 20 minutes while the dye worked its magic.

I'm a Marxed Woman!

After a few minutes of marinating in dye, I noticed a spot on my wrist where it had splashed, and when I rubbed it with my special hair dyeing towel (a spotted, ratty old towel), it wouldn't come off. My wrist was stained a bluish black. I rubbed at it like Lady Macbeth and her damned spot. Still no luck.

Courtesy of Pinterest Robert Cuccioli

Then a thought hit me: If my wrist could be blue-black, what if my Vaseline hadn't covered all of my skin? I needed a mirror. I don't have one in the basement, so I dashed up the steps and opened the door where my 24-year-old son stood in the kitchen. By his expression, I knew something was wrong. When I looked in the powder room mirror, I had eyebrows like Grouch Marx and a hairline like Eddie Munster.

 

After only giving the hair dye 10 minutes to work, I dashed back down to the laundry room and stuck my head under the laundry tub faucet and began to frantically rinse my hair and rub my eyebrows. When the water ran clear, I sprinted upstairs to my bathroom, glanced in the mirror, and discovered that I still had a shadowy hairline and overly large black eyebrows. I quickly jumped into the shower and used every face product I owned from the Apricot scrub to the citrus facial cleaner to finally the pineapple enzyme peel-off-mask. I smelled like a fruit salad.

It Wasn't So Nice and Easy

We were headed for Saturday night Mass, and as I blew my hair dry, I could still see the faintest staining along my hair line. As I curled my hair, I admired my work. My hair did look really lustrous and dark so it wasn't a total disaster. But I learned there's a fine line between looking good and looking like Groucho!

The extent my characters go to in Most Highly Favored Daughter to maintain appearances and conceal their secrets goes much deeper and darker than Nice & Easy Natural Darkest Brown.

Pick up your copy now at Amazon, Barnes & Nobel or Smashwords. 

Feel free to tell your friends and family about this sweet deal because when we enjoy reading, we're all friends.

Finally, if you liked the novel, please review it on the site where you purchased it.

Thanks a bunch and if you see me anywhere don't look too deeply at my hairline!

Book Review: The Rose Ring by Anne M. Faye

The Rose Ring was a delightful, easy read--just what I was looking for during a particularly stressful time in my life. I read it in one evening.  The characters are likeable and believable, and you probably know someone like just like them. The two divergent story lines came together at the end to teach a powerful lesson--that sometimes you may not learn from YOUR past, but from SOMEONE ELSE'S past.

If you are in the mood for a heartwarming, charming love story, you can't go wrong with The Rose Ring.    

A Quick Take on Indie-Publishing

Unlike some others, I've come a little late to the indie-publishing revolution.  I got a Kindle about 18 months ago and primarily read traditionally published books on it.   It took me a while to wean myself away from paper.  It's only in the last six months that I've branched out and have started to read some indie-published novels due to so many people offering free books.  And I've noticed a few things that I'd like to share with you. 

Creativity & Individuality

When I was shopping around my soon to-be-published novel, St. Anne's Day, (shooting for a late July availability date) to agents, I intuitively felt it wouldn't find a home with neither an agent nor a publisher because I had never read another traditionally published book similar to what I had written.  My novel is set in Pittsburgh, features a nurse and has some Catholic/Christian overtones, making it not an exact fit in any genre.  I read scads of writing manuals while drafting it, and they all said not to do certain things.  They said not to set your story in certain places, feature certain types of characters, or embrace certain issues.  

Well, I've just finished a novel set in Pittsburgh featuring a nurse, not one of the "approved cities and occupations" and liked it.  My sister just read a book featuring a rock star as the protagonist, and coincidentally, she found out a good friend had read it too.  They both liked it.  The writing experts said neither agents nor publishers would touch a book with "celebrity types" of characters.  I also read a "Catholic" fiction novel that advocated natural family planning.  I doubt a publisher would touch that sort of theme.  Most likely none of these books would have made it past the "gatekeepers" who rule the traditional publishing world.  

Storming the Gates

Well, I say who needs gatekeepers!   It is refreshing to read non-homogenous novels.  I like being my own gatekeeper.  If the story is good, to me, that's all that matters.  Sure, I've come across the occasional typo, but I've seen them in traditionally pubbed books too.  Sure, I downloaded one poorly written book, which I abandoned after a chapter, but because e-books are more reasonably priced, I have no guilt putting a clunker down.  However, when I pay more for a hardback and it stinks, I feel trapped into reading it to get my money's worth.  I have more freedom to choose what I like with indie-published books. 

 Indie-publishing enhances the symbiotic relationship between writer and reader, eliminating the middle man--and that's a good thing. 

Six Sunday

Hi and Happy Memorial Day Weekend!

Here is a teaser for my soon-to-be released novel St. Anne's Day. Hope you enjoy it as much as the first grilled burger of the summer season. Enjoy and thanks for stopping by. Also, you can read a sample chapter of St. Anne's Day on my website at www.janicelanepalko.com.

While you are there, sign up for email notification of when St. Anne's Day is available.

 “Please don’t tell my mother I hired you,” Gerry said. “She thinks Medicare provided you. She’d have another heart attack if she knew I was paying out-of-pocket for a private-duty nurse.”

 “My lips are sealed.” Anne noticed how he glanced at her lips for an instant as if to see if she should be taken literally. The predatory gaze that passed over his face made her heart beat irregularly, and flustered, she bent and picked up her bags.