Write now with Writer

Last year I started using my Chromebook for most things webbish. I liked the quick and easy access to the internet–and since I don’t do anything fancy like Writer Google app gaming or film editing, a Chromebook can meet just about all my screen needs. Recently, I started attending a Writing Circle at a local studio and was a little worried when I arrived sans paper–but with my Chromebook!–only to find out that there was no wifi.

Thankfully, the studio owner had the solution: Writer. Available in the Chrome Web Store or at the Writer website, the app is billed as an Internet typewriter that is “the coolest … distraction-free writing tool around.” And it is.

Flintstones computer

I was a bit put off at first by the outdated retro green on black screen, but that was easily changed in settings to the more boring standard look of any other word processing tool. Now truth be told, when I have access to wifi, I’ll use Google docs. (I mean, it’s a Chromebook, right?!)

But the biggest boon for me is that Writer is also functional off-line. Mind you, I have no idea how this works–my mind sees technology working a little like those tiny behind-the-screens dinosaurs in The Flintstones. I figure there must be a little critter or two carving my words on the Writer screen.

But it works like a dream, so I don’t care how. Writer is available as a free app, but I paid to get the premium for (wait for it!) five dollars a month. After I’ve typed off-line, I save the document and export it to Google Drive when I reach wifi again. I’ve had only one minor glitch and when I emailed tech support, I got an email within an hour or two offering some solutions.

The app is the project of web developer John Watson, who also has some pretty cool projects linked on his Google+ profile. According to his About page, John, God bless him, still uses Oxford commas.

How could I not love the app?!

V is for verse (A-Z Blogging Challenge)

Today is day 22 of the Blogging from A to Z Challenge.  The challenge began with A on April 1 and continues the alphabet throughout theverse month, except on Sundays. My theme for the month will be this blog’s tagline: life, books, and all things bookish, so you can expect a little bit of this ‘n that. I’m still reading, though, and I’ll add reviews whenever possible. Thirty days of blogging is a huge commitment for me, but I’m looking forward to meeting and greeting new blog friends.

Today’s word: verse

No way could I do an April blogging challenge and not mention poetry. I mean, April being National Poetry Month and me being an English teacher and all. I’ve read some of the other participants shout outs to poetry and they ranged from sharing one’s own poem to listing favorite poets.

Teresa Grau Ros@Flickr

Several years ago my husband and I stumbled on an announcement buried in the newspaper: poet laureate Billy Collins and poet Naomi Shahab Nye were reading at the local university, and the evening was free and open to the public. We felt like we had stumbled upon a little slice of heaven. Collins was personable and warm, his poetry so accessible. Shahab Nye was as well. There was something about listening to their reading live that resonated. Shortly after that evening, I started following the Poetry Out Loud YouTube channel. This national competition for high school students focuses on the recitation of poetry in a powerful and meaningful way. The kids are incredible. Here’s one of my favorites, Bilingual/Bilingue. 

As often happens when one falls down the internet rabbit hole, I somehow landed on a spoken word channel. And fell in love. Now I’ll be honest–some spoken word is just a bit too edgy and profane for me. I don’t like to be yelled at and I don’t like every other word to be a f&@k or worse. But if you look long enough and hard enough, you’ll find some gems like Taylor Mali and Phillip Kaye and Sarah Kay. Sarah of the beautiful rise and fall of images and emotion. (Here she is at her best in “If I Should Have a Daughter“)

I love words. I like the way they sound … and how they feel on my tongue: echoing vowels and satisfying fricatives. I love the way words play, meanings slipping one to the next, then up and over. I love the hope of words and the way they make my heart soar.

S: Silas Marner (A-Z Blogging Challenge)

Today is day 19 of the Blogging from A to Z Challenge.  The challenge began with A on April 1 and continues the alphabet throughout the
month, except on Sundays. My theme for the month will be this blog’s tagline: life, books, and all things bookish, so you can expect a little bit of this ‘n that. I’m still reading, though, and I’ll add reviews whenever possible. Thirty days of blogging is a huge commitment for me, but I’m looking forward to meeting and greeting new blog friends.
Today’s words: Silas Marner

I love George Eliot. I love her life story. She was a free thinker, in and out of the Church until she settled on her own understanding of spirituality. She was a woman of independent means–maybe not by choice, but by her wit and intelligence. She loved openly and passionately, even when her choices meant she was rejected from polite society. She was anything but attractive–but possessed great beauty.

George EliotI love the seemingly quaint moral tales she writes about life in the English countryside in the 19th century, all of which reveal some sort of illicit love and characters who lived on the margins of society–and about how they created (or tried to, anyway) the life they longed for. Adam Bede with Heddy’s forbidden love, unwanted pregnancy, and near-death; Mill on the Floss with Maggie’s love for the hunchback Phillip and that last dying embrace; Middlemarch with Dorothea’s ill-fated marriage and unrequited love.

And of course, Silas Marner, that near-sighted, hunched “old man” (who was actually, if you count the years, only 40-something!) who was brought into the warm embrace of village life when a baby, quite literally, shows up on his doorstep. A cast of characters who are as dear to me as the people who have passed in and out of my own life. Those nasty, haughty Cass boys, the ones you love to hate–Godfrey, who though he appears all heart in his life with Nancy, lived a lie; Eppie, the golden child I always picture as Shirley Temple. And Dolly Winthrup. Gosh, I love that woman and her malapropisms.

It’s a novel about betrayal and the truest of loves. It’s about burying oneself in work or working as an outpouring of love. It’s shutting down and opening up, turning within or reaching out. It’s about connection to each other.

And it all turns around that bent little man with bleary eyes who shields his heart so it can never be broken again–Silas Marner.

Spill Simmer Falter Wither (review)

Spill Simmer Falter Wither (Edelweiss)
Sara Baume
Houghton Mifflin
release date: March  8, 2016

I realise that you were not born with a predetermined capacity for wonder, as I’d believed. I realise that you fed it up yourself from tiny pieces of the world. I realise it’s up to me to follow your example and nurture my own wonder, morsel by morsel by morsel.

There are not many books that leave me sobbing great heaves, my heart in my throat. Not many books that touch some deep darkness that not even I know exists. There are not many books that speak of the sweet tenderness that connects us to all creatures great and small.

But Irish writer Sara Baume’s first novel Spill into Falter Wither was just such a book.

spill simmer falter wither Once upon a time there was Robin and Ruby and Ray. But Ray doesn’t remember that time and since then has suffered neglect and despair. Ray never attended school. He never played with other children. His world was the little salmon-colored house in the village and the view he had from upstairs was his only window on the larger world. His father came and went (but mostly went), and Ray grew into some sort of understanding of his difference.

Ray had his books. The wide sweep of the ocean outside of Tawny Bay. Weekly visits to the post-office and grocery. Sometimes church.

Long years passed. Fifty-seven, to be exact. And a year after his father died, Ray brings home One Eye, a terrier mix from a sad excuse of an animal shelter. Like Ray, One Eye is damaged goods. Like Ray, One Eye is skittish, afraid even of tinfoil crinkling. Ray tries to win him over with sardines and chocolate buttons; he cobbles together a dog bed from a child’s easy chair so they can watch out the window together.

And so One Eye and Ray set out to rescue each other.   But can they? Is it possible to rescue another from sorrow and misery that has cut to their very center, leaving their spirit nicked and torn? Is it possible to make whole a heart that never had a chance to grow in the first place?

As if the story itself isn’t enough, Baume’s writing is evocative, her voice resonant. At times the pages read like poetry and it is a powerful and wonderful gift to come across a novel that allowed me to “nurture my own wonder, morsel by morsel by morsel.”


An itty bitty Flavia & an itty bitty review

I remember the months dragging on while I waited for another adventure with Fr. Tim from Jan Karon’s Mitford series, or, drumming my fingers with the rest of the world for another Harry Potter caper. My love for little Flavia De luce is just as abiding and it can be maddening knowing the last volume of the series, Chimney Sweepers Come To Dust,  was published only nine months ago, so the next Flavia romp is still months away.

curious copperBut O Happy Day! Bradley apparently released a short story just before the publication of Chimney Sweepers, a short story titled “The Curious Case Of the Copper Corpse”. How did I miss this one?! Once again, Amazon’s magical “We recommend” flashed it on my Daily Deals and lured me to send it to my Kindle–and quick as you can say “copper corpse”, I was off to Bishop’s Lacey riding alongside Flavia and her faithful Gladys.

In this story, Flavia is twelve and back at Buckshaw. A letter slipped under her door asks for her immediate help with a (you guessed it!) corpse, murdered and covered, inexplicably, in a thin film of copper. At Greyminster, the boys’ school just down the way. The student who sent the note (one Haxton or Plaxton–the scrawl was difficult to decipher) is frantic, as anyone would be if they found a dead body in the bathtub down the hall. Flavia sniffs around, questions a few boys, sits demurly under a tree posing as a visiting sister, and–no surprise here!– solves the mystery 1-2-3.

Available only as an e-book, Curious Case is short. And fairly predictable. But in some ways that just why we read series, right? So if you just want to check in on Flavia to see how she’s doing, send it to your Kindle today.