Uncategorized

The Difference We Make

I love children’s books.  And The Farmer by Mark Ludy is one of my favorites. I bought it when my oldest was three, and every time I read it I cry. But you have to consider that I’m a crier. At least according to my husband and my boys, I am.IMG_6469

The Farmer is about a farmer who trust in the Lord to provide. And he thanks him when good things happen to him, and when destruction comes his way. And he loves his neighbors, The Frumps, even when they are not so loveable.

I catch myself picking up this book to read it when those times of discouragement come in my life to remind me of how I should handle those times. I admit I don’t always want to be thankful or forgiving, but I find when I am, circumstances turn around much sooner. And I don’t find myself in the middle of a pity party.

I want to be grateful in all circumstances.  I love having the good times, but I always grow more in the difficult times.

I am thankful for Mark Ludy for writing such a beautiful book of how we should handle all the different situations in our lives. IMG_6471

The way he loved and cared  for his animals is what captivated me from the start. Mr. Ludy definitely pulled at my heart strings from the beginning with the  farmer’s love for his animals, the impossible circumstances that the farmer finds himself in, and then the way that he overcomes each circumstance.

I got it out last night because I needed a reminder to be thankful in all circumstances. Maybe somebody out there needs to hear that today. Our circumstances are temporary. I want to be thankful in all circumstances.

I didn’t know twelve years ago when I bought The Farmer that it would be such a comfort to me. I bought it as just a book for my little boy. We never know how our life might impact someone else. Just like this little book has impacted mine.

Personal · Uncategorized

Cats, Hunting Dogs, and Chasing Flies

This is Duke. AdobePhotoshopExpress_2017-03-27_21-29-57-0500

We rescued him from a hunting dog named Red ( I couldn’t make that up if I tried). And yes, I am from the southern United States.

Red thought he was a toy or maybe a squirrel to be played with, and the boys and I just happened to come across the two of them while it was all going down.  I didn’t intend on being a cat owner, but here I am eight months later, and Duke has a pretty cushy life in our home.

He likes to sleep as you can see from the picture below. AdobePhotoshopExpress_2017-03-27_21-31-14-0500

He likes to chase flies hence the intense stare toward the ceiling in this picture.AdobePhotoshopExpress_2017-03-27_21-31-46-0500

And he loves to aggravate our little Morkie, Zack. And sometimes he just crawls in Zack’s kennel (which Zack never sleeps in), while Zack sleeps on the floor beside him.AdobePhotoshopExpress_2017-03-27_21-33-14-0500

I just want to go on record saying that  life hasn’t been the same since Duke entered our lives, but we wouldn’t have it any other way.  Well, Zack might if he was given the choice.

Until Next Time,

Judith W. Nicholson

Excerpts from works · Personal · Uncategorized

Excited

This sweet little bird, and his hungry preschool self is now an Amazon ebook in the Amazon bookstore. Hopefully the hard copy will be on sale in a week or so.Artboard 1-100

I wrote about my hate relationship with marketing on my other blog The Windy Writer, so I won’t bore you with the details, but needless to say I don’t like the marketing that comes with self-publishing.

I like illustrating and writing books. I’m not crazy about the technical stuff either, but I like it better than the marketing.

Marvin21

In other news, we had Easter festivities, and said goodbye to my Mamaw and Papaw’s place. It was very sad.

I lived here for a good portion of my life (a story for another time). IMG_4539

On Sunday my youngest hunted Easter eggs, and we went fishing. And now it’s back to working on books and blogs and marketing(yuck).

Until Next Time,

J. W. Nicholson

Below are the links to my books on Amazon. Let me know what you think.

Artboard 1-100thebotanicalbookcover6x9

Personal

Who are your biggest encouragers?

Who do you have in your life that tells you how great your writing is? Who tells you how beautiful you look or handsome (I’m not trying to leave anyone out)?

For me it’s these guys!

IMG_5396

And this guy ( I will hear about it if I don’t put him ) Doesn’t he look so sweet.IMG_5035

These men have encouraged me to write my books. They have encouraged me to start back blogging. They have encouraged me to keep moving.  When I can be my own worst enemy, these guys continually cheer me on.

I am GRATEFUL for them.

I don’t know if I would have believed in myself enough to venture into writing all of these different variety of books. Or, if I would have written any books at all.  I have had a lifetime of insecurities to overcome.

Marvin 16

Yet, here I am. If I can do it, Anyone can. And at this moment, on this night I am very grateful for how blessed I am. Amen!

Until Next Time,

Judith W Nicholson

Excerpts from works · Personal · Uncategorized

Three Things On My Mind

I have more than three things, but I’ll just go with three for the sake of keeping it short.

Our rescue cat is the first thing on my mind. When I wake up in the morning( as I get older that wake up time gets earlier and earlier), I let him out of his kennel. He then proceeds to love on me, eat, and take care of business. I didn’t plan on being a cat owner. But in August we rescued this cutie, who goes by the name Duke, from a hunting dog that thought he needed to toss two week kittens around in the air. I didn’t plan on keeping him, but eight months later he’s still here and an integrated part of our family.

IMG_5585

The second thing on my mind is writing more on my blogs. I really had no idea when I began what I wanted to do with them, and I’m still unsure. I know I want to share about my writing and my life, but that’s about as much as I’ve got.

And then the third thing is my writing, which I am all over the place with. My interest ranges from novels and writing prompts to children’s books and coloring books. And for now, I’m just going to share it all.

I just published this little writing prompt book.  It’s the first book I’ve ever published. I decided I had to start somewhere. And so, this was my starting point. Yay! And now I’m working on a children’s book and a coloring book. I’m learning to accept that my interest vary and that’s okay.

IMG_6272

Did I mention that I draw too. Below is a drawing of my grandparent’s place which has just sold (I may have shed a few tears over that one).

13987982_10207027184941632_2585151747405624009_o

And below is the picture I drew it from.IMG_4539

And now you see what I mean about my interests varying.  But I’m glad you got to see a picture of my cute cat.

Until next time.

J. W. Nicholson

Excerpts from works · Personal · Uncategorized

Jumping All In

The last month has been crazy. When I’m not teaching and answering questions, I am on my computer. In the last month, I have watched videos on how to use Adobe Illustrator, Photoshop, and Indesign. I decided I was going to quit putting off my desire to create and publish books. And so I have jumped into the deep water.  I needed something to be my own. My boys are getting older. They don’t need me as much for the little things (I may need to go cry now).  And since they are more independent, I’ve decided that there is no time like the present to get started with some of my dreams.  So, I’ve been working on a book. A children’s book to be more specific (I’ve been working on a novel for at least five years)  and a journal and a writing prompt book and a coloring book. The ideas keep coming. But I thought I might share some snippets of my children’s bookMarvin2

Meet Marvin. He is a hungry little bird. My inspiration was a bearded reedling. I’ve never seen one in person, but they are beautiful in the pictures.Marvin8

And all he can think about is food.Marvin 16

My inspiration was my boys.IMG_3539

They are hungry alot. So is the dog, Zack. He likes treats and human food (He also knows how to pose for a picture).Marvin20

This was my middle child’s idea. I think it turned out cute. I see a few places I need to go in and fix, but I think it’s a super cute idea.

This has definitely been a learning curve, but a fun one. There’s a lot to creating your own books.  I’m going to try to share my experiences on here. I’ve always done the blog in spurts. I guess we will see how it goes. But for now, I’ve got to get back to helping the boys with their work and working on the books.

Excerpts from works

Is This The Way It’s Supposed to Be?

 

image

When I think about it, my chest tightens. I feel that there is something pressing against me. I look in the mirror. I see a wrinkle that I didn’t notice yesterday or the day before. My hair is white in places where black once occupied it. Two of my boys are taller than I am and before I turn around they will be grown.   Time flies away. It’s the only thing around here that does. Where will I be when they move away? When I was young I thought that I had all the time in the world. I didn’t. Now I watch and wait. Will I move too? Or will I stand still. I don’t want to stand still. I want to fly, to soar like the eagles. That’s when my chest tightens and I feel like I can’t breathe. It happens almost every time when I think about life passing me by while everyone runs with it. I want to run too. I don’t want to be left behind. No one wants to be left, do they? This is what threads through my mind like a poison, eating away at me. It eats away until I push into the filing box of my mind until next time.

Personal · Uncategorized

American Idol

 

image

Congratulations to Trent Harmon! La’Porsha Renae, we are expecting great things from you too! Mississippi has always had great artist flow from it and this year on American Idol was no different. I will be waiting in anticipation for your music with the rest of the world! Mississippi was represented well!

Uncategorized

The Cedar Horse

 

 

The charge nurse told me I was clutching the cedar horse in my hands when they found me.  I don’t remember.  When I came to, in the sterile room, it was still there firm in my hands.  Though someone had dressed me in one of those dreadful hospital gowns.  So, she must have been telling the truth. Although I don’t know who to trust.

 The horse was symbol of happier times. It made me feel safe.  I wish I could travel back to the times it represented.  If I close my eyes, I smell the cedar.  I hear the brush of the leaves, as he wheedles away at the block of wood.   It would soon become some creature that he’d thought up.  We would sit on the red stained swing blanketed by the sweet gums and the pines.  The heat was stifling. The sweat trickled down my back.  It was the reason he wore just a white undershirt beneath his overalls.  Mississippi summers made you feel exhausted even if all you did was sit in a swing.   Most days, I was content to sit by Papaw.  He wheedled and I read.  Sometimes I would ask him question after question.  He never told me to hush like Momma did.  There were times he would tell me stories of his childhood.  Tales of watermelon thieves, how he could buy a coke and peanuts for five cents, and the stories would go on and on as stories of his childhood sometimes did.

What would he have to say about this mess that I’m in?  Sitting here surrounded by pristine white walls, a stained cotton mattress, and remnants of occupants that came before me.  The smell of Clorox fills my nostrils. The moaning and screaming hasn’t stopped since I arrived.

 If I try real hard I can almost feel his hand threaded through mine.  He would pat it and tell me it was going to be okay.  If he said it, I believed him.  He was from a generation where his word meant something.  A time when men shook hands and kept whatever promises they spoke out loud.   But he wasn’t here and my world was spiraling down.

  Tears roll down my cheek as I try to recall the last few days.  My head starts pounding.  My chest tightens.  I will myself to remember. Something. Anything. Gunshots, I remember gunshots.  I can see a large hand.  A man’s hand holding a pistol. The man is in front of me.  It’s dark and cold where we are.   Miles away from the sweltering Mississippi summers.  The land of my childhood.    This land is a land of permeate frost, frozen tundra, and vast wilderness.

A knock at the door breaks my concentration.  I study the male nurse as he walks through the door.  His eyes are soft, but he’s all business. He knows the routine. In and out. Don’t get personal with the patients.

“Time for your medicine Mrs. Carter.” He says.

I take the medicine in the paper cup.  I let the pills sit under my tongue. He doesn’t ask me to open my mouth like the woman nurse did at lunch.  As soon as he leaves the room, I grab the napkin sitting on the bedside table. I wipe my mouth and deposit the pills in the napkin.  I had never taken medicine and I didn’t plan on starting.  It was impertinent that I remember the details of the last few days.

*An excerpt of a  work.

copyright of judithwnicholson

 

 

Uncategorized

Authentic

 

image

I found it in the midst of a pile of junk or maybe it was a treasure.  At the time, everything around it was junk, and it was the treasure.  A bland blonde desk.   There on the front of the desk the remnants of where a key hole once was, and the rest of it was covered with grooves where some child had indented it with a pencil or two or three(more like a million little scratches).  After a morning of stripping it bare, the desk is now Jacobean stained with a bronzed knob from Hobby Lobby covering the abandoned key hole.  A vast improvement from its first condition or at least that’s my opinion.  It’s my favorite place to sit in my house at the moment. That may or may not be because we are remodeling (meaning the rest of our house is a wreck). Moldings are piled in the hallway.  Tables, chairs, and couches are stored in a racing trailer.  It’s the only haven I have right now.

 So, as I sit here typing this, birds are chirping outside my window. I swear there is one particular bird that calls a guy name Jimmy every morning.   The only bird that doesn’t seem to be stirring is the mockingbirds.  The bird of my homeland.  The place that I still call home after all these years.  It’s funny, when I started my other blog I didn’t know what kind of writer I wanted to be(I’m still muddling my way through).  I tried to stifle the Southern voice that kept popping up throughout my writings.  I found that I sounded generic not authentic when I masked the sound of my voice. 

My reason for starting another blog is to be authentic.  The first blog I started under a fictitious name.  A safe place.  This time it’s my name for all the world to see.  I’m still trying to figure what I want to do with my writings.  One thing is for certain-I want to write.