Posted on Tuesday, April 9, 2013
Yes, it’s cold outside, but it is time to start planning for summer. Fine Lines Summer Camp is back! As big and perhaps better than ever. With 13 years worth of camps under our belts, it’s a great time to be a creative writer in Omaha. David “Metaphor” Martin can’t wait to welcome the campers back to Beveridge Middle School for another week of adventurous writing!
Where: Beveridge Magnet Middle School, 1616 South 120 St., Omaha
When: June 10-14, 8:30 a.m. – 12:00 p.m.
See the attached form and print it or send it via email along with your payment to register today!
Email or call if you have questions. All the information is on the form!
Click the button below to pay online or send in your check to David Martin. The mailing address is on the attached flyer.
Thank you! And see you soon!
Posted on Monday, March 25, 2013
I threw myself so hard into Fall that I didn’t have time to see December coming. Before I’d been sitting on the docks with my feet dangling in salty water, and my eyes were closed. I felt content here, watching the pinks and oranges dance behind my lids. I plopped my big toe into the sea and watched a ripple form, bigger and bigger, never ending. I love the sea. I love the idea of mermaids and rosy coral breathing in the deep. Summer’s fingers were combing my hair, bleaching the curly ends out with sun. A seagull flew in the distance. A chill stirred in the air. Summer shivered.
“Fall’s coming,” Summer said, with eyes in slits. I threw myself up and peered around, to see if fall was really there, but fall was just a distant shadow, and like a bat circling the sky, it soon vanished. The chill left the air, and Summer smiled again.
“C’mon,” Summer grabbed my hand, “We’re swimming.” Summer jumped off the dock, and I looked down at my hand, and it was so hot, it burned.
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Posted on Monday, March 11, 2013
In 1995, I suffered a ruptured brain aneurysm. I was thirty-five years old, in the best shape of my life, and had just gotten a clean bill of health with an annual physical. The incident resulted in the need for a craniotomy, where a metal clip was strategically placed to stop the bleeding. The blood seeped into various parts of my brain, so once inside, a massive cleanup was required. Back then, micro-neurosurgery was a relatively new technique. Prior to that time, the most likely outcome was death. Given the same circumstances, odds for survival are only slightly better now.
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Posted on Tuesday, March 5, 2013
How can I show my Spanish students the various similarities all languages share? In Spanish we say paz, in French one says paix, in Italian you see pace, in German one finds as frieden, and in English the translation is peace. These words differ in spelling and in pronunciation, but all contain only one definition that the entire world understands. “This is amazing!” I tell them.
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Posted on Friday, February 22, 2013
It’s out now, beautiful and full of wonderful writing. Get your copy today!
Posted on Sunday, February 3, 2013
In a time when the world had lost the concept of forgiveness and had forgotten the meaning of love, a young girl named Rayna walked to the edge of sadness and there she took up residence in a rundown cottage, overgrown by tangled brambles. “It is better to be alone than lonely,” she reasoned. The humble dwelling had once belonged to a cruel man who, over time, had filled the rooms with broken dreams, shattered plans and mismatched cast-a-ways. Every nook and cranny was smothered in cobwebs and dark secrets. Gloomy shadows refused to give way to light. Rayna recognized the despair. It was the very likeness of her wretched past. She thought it a suitable home.
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Posted on Tuesday, January 22, 2013
I was a child who was told by a 2nd grade teacher that I was “not good at art.” I took that as gospel. I couldn’t draw a straight line with a ruler. In fact, it became the long running family joke.
In 1995, at age 35, I suffered a ruptured brain aneurysm. At the peak of my game, I was knocked off the playing board altogether. I made a journal of the events during my 6+ month recovery. As my looks began to transform back to my “old self,” after being a “zipper head” due to the major craniotomy required, I longed to put the dreadful experience behind me. I just wanted to go back to “normal.” As an acquaintance said the other day, the only place she has seen “normal” is on a washing machine! That’s another story. I did the old fashion way of copyrighting, mailed my manuscript to myself, tossed it in a plastic storage bin, and moved on for over a decade. I thought, someday, I’d write a book about my incredible experience. In fact, my mom suggested once or twice a year that I “get right on that!” I wasn’t quick to act. || Read more »
Posted on Wednesday, January 9, 2013
Special Editors, Board of Directors, Members, and Friends:
Marty Pierson died Tuesday evening about 6 p.m. She was sedated to handle the pain of her inoperable brain tumor. After she lost her vision and became blind in December, the tumor was discovered, as doctors were looking at her eyes. Many years ago, she said that since she had no remaining kin she wanted to adopt Fine Lines as her family. She came to almost every editors’ meeting through the years and taught elementary children at each summer camp we had since she discovered our writing network. After teaching at Norris Middle School and Technical High School in the Omaha Public Schools for many years, she retired and devoted her time to helping needy students advance in school by providing scholarships for them, working in the arts, and discovering that she was an artist with words. She was most surprised to find out after retiring that she had something to say, people listened to her, and enjoyed writing. We will miss her a lot.
Write on, Marty,