Channeling and Chanting a Mantra

Everyone knows that unity is power. United we stand; united we sit. That is my take on that famous saying. My point is that going it alone (no matter what “it” is) takes a lot of self-motivation, perseverance, and faith. The statistics below come from my postings on my National Writing Project page. I wish I can channel those many viewers to this and my other blogs by chanting a mantra.

I guess that outlet will be the equivalent of someone pushing the button of prerecorded compliments when he/she is feeling down. I posted some stats from the same link when the Kennesaw Mountain Writing Project ended months ago. I had not gone that route until I received a survey to rate my experience, so I took a journey westward (I guess; my mind sees it as the west) and discovered that people are still hitting my postings. I am eternally grateful and have returned the same to them.








Comment posted by Patricia Valley
June 26, 2012 at 3:35pm

It’s validating to know I am not alone.  But missing something makes us appreciate it more too.  We have a funny expression in my family that is meant the be endearing.  How can I miss you if you won’t go away?  🙂






Comment posted by Fatima Abdulkazem
June 21, 2012 at 10:09am

I loved your poetry… It’s fancy…it’s tasty!

I also loved it because it teased my brain…and knocked on closed doors of knowledge to open!

i am just discovering an emerging poet in me…Your poems are inspiring






Posted by J. Stalnaker
June 14, 2012 at 11:43am


I love reading YA fiction! Most likely because that is the age group I teach and I am always sneaking peeks at their titles to see what is going on in “their” world. Don’t give up…and let me know when you have something meaty to chew on!



1 comment



Posted by Megan Barker

June 13, 2012 at 10:53am

Pretty piece. I love your way with words.



Posted by Theresa Allen
June 12, 2012 at 1:32pm

it was very interesting to me to view my life in segments of time.






Posted by Theresa Allen
June 9, 2012 at 11:53am

I can’t even think of an adjective to completely describe my feelings about being involved with the Kennesaw Mountain Writing Project. Like you Frances, I am ecstatic. I know this is going to be a transformative experience and I look forward to applying my new insights and knowledge to my class in the fall. 


Posted by Shirley Hanner
June 9, 2012 at 12:57pm

I think this will be a time of discovery for all of us! I am glad to share the exploration with you!

Something About a River

I can’t pinpoint when or where the thought planted itself, germinated, and flowered; but somewhere in my literary life, water factors in a significant way.

My bones acknowledge it. I may not have been aware of it as a universal truth to my existence. Still, every fiber of my existence, every whiff of my breath from one black hair follicle to my toe’s cuticle must have known that I was born to write by a body of water.

Something about that magnetic liquid invigorates my gray cells, activates my creativity to a most forceful recognition, and transforms my visions into creations better than my wildest imagination.

I have watched Something’s Gotta Give numerous times to the point that I wore out my first DVD and bought a new one. The house in that movie hits me anew each time. I saw my life as it should be in that movie and salivate over it.

My recognition and acceptance of my brain’s obsession with a body of water stood front and center on the shore featured in SGG. I thought I was alone in my obsession of this house by the ocean until I performed a search and discovered that every man and woman with refined taste have drooled over the scenes involving the house located on Martha’s Vineyard.

Yahoo pulled up over four hundred, thirty-one million hits. The result shows I am not the only drooler of both the interior and the grounds. But since this post is about the backyard’s effect on me, I will focus on it and force myself to ignore that indescribable house as much as my heart bleeds for the neglect.

The fact that I grew up about thirty miles from the Atlantic Ocean on the south side of Nigeria does not factor much in this under-the-radar allegiance to a river. I drove over bridges from Aba to Port-Harcourt uncountable times, but I don’t recall setting foot on any of Atlantic Ocean’s inlets in Port-Harcourt. Such proximity guaranteed us fresh edibles from the ocean. That much I remember.

When I sit by a river, as happened recently by the Chattahoochee, my words take on an elevated form of profoundness with the gliding of each soft tide. My thoughts converge and diverge and achieve effortless uniformity with the river’s collective flow. Something about a river channels my thoughts, massages my scalp, and allows it to produce cerebrations that accentuate every feeling.

I dream without end about that house (or my own seaside abode) with me planted where Diane Keaton sat and with a perfect view of my muse: ocean or river. I need a house by a body of water because something about a river opens my brain to pour out some of the most iridescent pieces I have ever composed.

I need a house by the river whose graceful and gentle nature ebbs and flows with the lyrics in my outpouring. A lake will stifle that efflorescence like plants lacking water and sun. River courses through my veins causing the meshing and the blending of unique creations. I need a house by a river.

Is Atlanta Literary?

Providing Serenity

In search of a new writing group, I stumble upon unintentional access to the Chattahoochee River, an access that costs me nothing. Ordinarily, access to a body of water carries a stiff price.

In the backdrop of the establishment, I spy a body of water and realize that I am so blessed to live in a major metropolitan area that tucks the Chattahoochee into its waist, circular and all. As it goes about its business, I see people latching on for numerous reasons.

Fortunately, this end of the river boasts no crashing waves or unpredictable agitations to cause an unnecessary distraction. These sedate and subdued motions could have enervated my brain into introspection. Rather, I choose to allow it to energize my hand into literary scribbling of the most profound kind.

Sitting on the Chattahoochee

As I sit here on the bank, I realize that Atlanta can hold its own among cities calling themselves literary luminaries. I am truly blessed to live in a major metropolis boasting of an A-list of citadels of learning, a city that has been attracting intellects since Booker T. Washington, even if only to elevate the art of public speaking.

I am fortunate to live here where, when a shout for writing goes out, people take up pens (used loosely here) to answer with immediacy. I am discovering the depth of Atlanta’s literateness. I belong to several face-to-face literary groups, a good selection easily organized by like-minded individuals who could charge membership fees (like some of the online ones) but who do not. Their sole “ulterior” motive is to help each other grow in literation.

Sitting here today, I feel very well in my elements on this bank whose serene flow circles Atlanta’s waist and germinates creativity in me with gentleness. I realize that even though our patio doors do not open directly onto the Atlantic (although our distant neighbor, Savannah does), Atlanta has literary blessings in abundance: print media, online media, the film industry staking a firm claim, and printers and publishing outlets to give authors’ creations wings.

Atlanta not being a one-sector industry or a one-crop economy gives hope to writers and artists. It is not a mining town, a camera/photo city, a silicon-born city, one-university dominion, nor is it controlled by brewery, quarry, seafood, farming, or seaport. We certainly have access to all these varieties.

Even the railroad that gave it birth does not claim domination any more. Atlanta is truly blessed, and because I am like Atlanta in many ways, so am I. 

First Book to Be Published Next Month!

I am working with BookBaby to release my first book on a long list of my writing adventures. This one, The Waters Family Chronicle, combines a very unique approach to teaching bodies of water with narrating a story about naming “children.”

This book brings a fresh new look to storytelling with clues and hints that get the brain popping. Students and all teachers of social studies, get your computer and brain ready to outdo Sherlock Holmes.

The Waters Family Chronicle is going on sale on Amazon early next month (September). Reserve your Imagecopy today!