by Roseanna White | May 15, 2017 | Word of the Week
So last weekend when we were still in Charleston, WV after watching one of the last shows of Ringling Bros and Barnum & Baily (AWESOME), we had the news on in the hotel room. A reporter was interviewing two basketball players after they’d gotten in a fight. Here’s the abbreviated form of the report
Reporter: So do you have anything to say about last night’s kerfuffle?
Player 1: That is a word right there. Say that again.
Reporter: Kerfuffle?
Player 2: Kerfuffle. I like that. Good job, dude.
Insert me and my children rolling in laughter. And Xoe exclaiming, “There’s your next Word of the Week!”
So, here we go. Kerfuffle.
At first glance, this word that means “a fuss or commotion” is really new. As in, from 1970. Which really shocked me. But as it happens, that’s just that particular spelling. The original spelling of the word was curfuffle, and it dates to 1813, first appearing in works by Scottish writers. Still newer than I thought, but that’s because it’s taken from a Scottish word.
Fuffle is a Scottish verb dating from the 1500s (muuuuch better!), which means “to throw into disorder.” The ker/cur was added to make it a noun in the same way that we see it on words like kersplat and kersplash–an onomatopoeia prefix meant to imitate the sound of something having fallen.
So there you have it, combative sports players–kerfuffle.
by Roseanna White | May 14, 2017 | Holidays
I remember throwing a tantrum when I was about 3, and my mother coming and scooping up my kicking, screaming form from the hallway floor. I remember thinking, “Yes! I got her attention!” And then being depositing on the bed in my room and told not to come out again until I could behave myself. *Fail*
I just wanted my mommy . . . and I got a lesson in life and love.
I remember being sick in school one day and holding it together pretty darn well while I told the teacher I didn’t feel well, while I told the nurse. But when she called my mom and handed me the phone, and I heard that most precious voice in the world on the other end saying, “What’s wrong, sweetie?” I just burst into tears.
I just wanted my mommy . . . and I knew she’d come the minute I called and make it all better.
I remember in middle school, I had some friends who tended to make irresponsible decisions, let’s say, and I took to reminding them of consequences. Of checking on them. I tried not to be nagging, but I also didn’t compromise.
I just wanted to be like my mommy . . . full of love, full of teaching, full of Christ. And one of them starting calling me Mommy–not mockingly, but with affection. I was so proud to answer to that.
I remember in high school, there were quite a lot of kids who didn’t want their parents going on field/band trips. Me? I loved having one or both of my parents along. Because I knew no one cheered, no one commiserated, no one took better care than my mom and dad.
I just wanted my mommy to be around . . . and she always, always was.
I remember in college, there was a day when a few students in my class got into a comical argument about whose mother was the BEST mother. And I won. Because my mom taught me not only how to care (I’d brought brownies in that day for the class, and they couldn’t argue with such an overt proof of taught generosity, LOL), but how to fight for what I believe in. 😉
I just wanted to live the lessons my mommy taught me.
I remember when my daughter was only a few weeks old and we were still living in Annapolis. It was Thanksgiving, and the roads were icy, so we had to delay coming home by a day. I cried–and I don’t cry. Because I was a new mommy myself . . . and I just wanted to be home with my family on that day.
I just wanted my mommy . . . even while I knew I had to protect the life of my new baby and not take undue risks on icy roads.
I remember one day when my son was throwing a temper tantrum on the floor. And I scooped up his kicking-and-screaming form and deposited him in his bed and said, “You can come out when you can behave.”
And I thought, I must be doing something right. I’m acting just like my mom.
In many ways, we’re so very different. But in the ways that count, I hope I’m just like you, Mom. That I’ve learned the lessons you’ve taught by example all my life–to love, to care, to be generous, to always put my family first, below only God. To live my faith and love those put in my life. You taught me how to be a mommy, and a wife, and a friend.
Happy Mother’s Day to my amazing mother, and to all the mothers in my life.
Happy Mother’s Day to all my friends and readers and editors and agents and acquaintances.
And a big thank you to our Lord, who somehow created us so that we can each say, in perfect honesty and certainty, “I have the best mother in the world.” But don’t get into an argument with me about whose really is–I’ll win. 😉
by Roseanna White | May 12, 2017 | Fridays from the Archives
For my first Fridays from the Archives post, I’m borrowing one of my oldest “thoughtful” posts, from way back in 2009, just a few months after the blog got started. My daughter was, at the time, 3 years old. Rowyn was six months. I love looking back at these little snapshots of life with them then! And with Mother’s Day just a couple days away, I couldn’t think of a better thing to share.
There’ll be a bit from Roseanna Now at the end of this short little thing from Roseanna Then. 😉
~*~
My daughter has this thing. Instead of, you know, looking to see where I am, she’ll call out, “Mommy! Where are you?”
Now,
usually I’m about two feet away, just behind her. So I’m obligated to
give a silly answer, right? I mean, I can’t just say, “Right here.”
That’s way too obvious for someone with my caliber of wit (ha. ha ha
ha.). So I’ve taken to saying, “On the moon.”
Depending
on her mood, she might ignore me, she might laugh, she might insist,
“No, you’re not!” she might then pretend that the woman in the living
room is someone else and talk about her mommy, who is currently on the
moon . . . or she might pretend like she’s on the moon with me.
That’s
the most fun–to see the imagination come to life in my toddler. I’m
constantly amazed by her recall and the things she’ll put together. And I
get a little flutter in my heart when she tells me she’s going to write
books someday too. Yeah, she’s only three–chances are pretty darn good
her goals will change a few times, lol. But still.
Yesterday
she sat down at my computer, asked me to give her a blank page, and
just sat there typing. Most of it looked like this:
asdfahghasduoidfoivasrueioransdghosdb8ibf fsiorutawlktj
With
the occasional “xoe” thrown in. =) But it was so cool for me, because
my little girl’s sitting there trying to do what I do, saying as she
does it that she’s writing it for me.
It’s those little things that make it all worthwhile. That get my imagination going. Because you just never know what you might discover when you’re on the moon with your little girl.
~*~
One of the reasons this still makes me smile today is that Xoe is still writing–with considerably more skill. It’s a question I think any writer with kids gets: “Do any of your children want to be a writer?”
For a while there, I would just shrug. Because 3-year-old Xoe’s ambitions cooled as she grew. Oh, she wrote stories for her brother when she was 5 and 6, which was adorable. And would frequently say she was going to write a story in the years to follow, but mostly she just drew the pictures for them, made a cover, came up with a catchy title, and then never actually wrote. Which is totally cool–I’d praise the artwork and say it looked great and never pushed her or anything.
But I noticed that when we were all outside of an evening, Xoe would just walk around, clearly in another world. And I’d remember doing the same thing. And I’d wonder if she were perchance building worlds, building stories as I used to do.
A couple months ago she started writing again in earnest, working on a book that she insists WhiteFire must publish once she’s finished. I smiled and said, “Well sweetie, first you have to finish it. Let’s start there.”
Then she let me read it. And oh my gracious. The girl has wit. She has voice–something hard won. She made me laugh out loud. Oh, I could see where it needed to improve–I can never turn off my internal editor–but they’re small, doable things. The sort of things I’d ask any writer to work on.
My daughter is a writer. Who also wants to intern with me as a graphic designer.
Maybe I am on the moon–some people might think we creatives belong there, LOL. But if so, my girl really is right there with me, and it does a mama’s heart proud. I don’t know if she’ll really end up making a career of this crazy artistic stuff that holds me captive. But it has a place in her heart. And that makes mine go all kinds of soft and mushy.
by Roseanna White | May 10, 2017 | Announcements, Book News
Here it is! If you’re interested in becoming an influencer for A name Unknown, please fill out the form below for a paperback (US addresses only).
If you’d rather have a digital or have a non-US mailing address, please use this form instead.
As a reminder, this form will only be live for 24 hours, as I have only a few slots still available after giving my previous launch team a chance to sign up.
by Roseanna White | May 9, 2017 | Announcements, Book News
It’s that time again–time to collect influencers for A Name Unknown!
What’s an influencer? It’s someone who agrees to help spread the word about my book through:
* Reviews (copies are sent out to my team)
* Word of mouth
* Posts on social media (memes with quotes, photos when your book arrives, etc.)
* Asking your local library/bookstores to order/carry it
* Generally just being a pal and getting the word out there!
Interested? The sign-up form for influencers new to my team will go live tomorrow, Wednesday 10 May, 2017 at 2 p.m. EDT. The form will stay open only 24 hours.
I only have 15 slots to fill at this point, after rolling over previous readers interested in joining me for the new adventure, so new influencers will be chosen based on your ideas for helping out and/or your track record as a reviewer.
Roseanna M. White is a bestselling, Christy Award winning author who has long claimed that words are the air she breathes. When not writing fiction, she’s homeschooling her two kids, editing, designing book covers, and pretending her house will clean itself. Roseanna is the author of a slew of historical novels that span several continents and thousands of years. Spies and war and mayhem always seem to find their way into her books…to offset her real life, which is blessedly ordinary.