Proud of our Award-Winning Books and Authors

Contests can be somewhat fickle and subjective, as well as very competitive. To be the winner of a book award, however, definitely means that the book / author / editorial team stands out in the crowded field of publishing!

Occasionally we enter an award contest (for a book that we believe has wide appeal and is particularly well-written and well-packaged).

And sometimes our authors enter writing contests themselves.

Here are a few winners through the years, of which we think we are justly proud:

1. Katy’s Choice: A Novel

When we founded Cladach Publishing, and in our first few years of book publishing, we were located in Northern California. At that time, we were members of the Bay Area Independent Publishers Association. The first novel we published, and still one of the best stories we ever published, was Katie’s Choice by Tracey Langford. We were thrilled, as a very young, new publisher to win BAIPA’s “Best Inspirational Novel” award for 2004.

2. Faithful Friends: 

By the time we published this book, Cladach had re-located to Colorado. This unique little book was a good choice to publish. It continues to have worldwide appeal and has won multiple awards. The author, Susan Bulanda, a member of the Cat Writers’ Association, Inc. and the Dog Writers Association of America, won these 2012 awards for Faithful Friends:

3. That Day By the Creek: A Novel about the Sand Creek Massacre of 1864

The Foreword Indies Award sponsored by Foreword Magazine is a quite competitive and respected award, and we were pleased when That Day by the Creek  by John Buzzard was selected as a 2016 INDIES Finalist in the Historical (Adult Fiction) Category.

4. Alice Scott-Ferguson, poet:

Alice entered two of her poems in the WrEN Award for Poetry which is sponsored by the Writers and Editors Network. Alice’s poetry was awarded Honorable Mention in Free Verse, and the judges commented: “This poet obviously enjoys playing with words and bringing fresh light to subjects that interest most readers.” We agree!

 

On Veteran’s Day – Honoring Our Authors Who Have Served

Today we acknowledge and thank these Cladach Authors who have served in the Armed Forces of their Country:

1. James Troy Turner

Served in the U.S. Navy during the Vietnam War. Some of Turner’s Poems allude to that experience and its aftermath.


2. John Buzzard

Served in the U.S. Navy during Operation Desert Storm. Buzzard tells a lot of his Navy experience in his memoir Storm Tossed (under the pseudonym Jake Porter)


3. Dennis Ellingson

Served in the U.S. Navy during the Vietnam War. At the time Ellingson didn’t know he’d become an author of many books, including God’s Healing Herbs and The Godly Grandparent.


4. George Herbert Cummings

Served in the U.S. Army during World War II and with the occupation forces in Korea, as a Chaplain’s Assistant. Many years later, Rev. Dr. Cummings authored Making It In Marriage.


5. McGill Alexander

A highly decorated Paratrooper in the South African Army, he retired as a Brigadier General. More of General Alexander’s thrilling story is told in his book, Hostage In Taipei.


Thank you, gentlemen, for your service.


Cladach Authors in their Communities

We love to see our authors out participating in their communities, sharing their expertise and their books, and meeting readers. These events happen around the country and sometimes around the world. We love to receive reports and photos of local author activities, such as the following:

John Buzzard

On Saturday November 2, John Buzzard, author of the Cladach historical novel THAT DAY BY THE CREEK, sold and signed copies of his books at the Empire Ranch Cowboy Festival in Sonoita, Arizona, along with other members of the Western Writers of America. Looks like a great time, John! And I like the cowboy hat.

Marilyn Bay

Last month, Marilyn Bay signed copies of her Cladach novel, PRAIRIE TRUTH, at Coffeehouse Ten24 in Eaton, Colorado. Marilyn says she enjoyed visiting with people “about books, writing and the rest of life.” Marilyn’s roots go deep in Northern Colorado farming soil, and all her books, including ALL WE LIKE SHEEP: LESSONS FROM THE SHEEP FARM, find eager readers near and far

James Troy Turner

James Troy Turner sold and signed copies of poetry books, POEMS and MORE POEMS during the downtown festivities for Sugar Beet Days in Sterling, Colorado. Troy enjoyed signing his books, showing off his dog, PJ, and visiting with both new and old friends and customers, some of whom remembered him from his farm-equipment mechanic days.

Dennis and Kit Ellingson

Dennis Ellingson, “The Herb Guy,” and Kit Ellingson, authors of three Cladach titles, set up their booth for the Master Gardener’s Fair in Central Point, Oregon. We’d love to have been there along with others of the public who stopped by to check out Dennis’s books and plants and Kit’s photography. Dennis and Kit are joint authors of THE GODLY GRANDPARENT and Dennis’s books include the popular Cladach titles, GOD’S HEALING HERBS and GOD’S WILD HERBS.

Don’t we have resourceful, ingenious, creative, and engaging authors!

Everything I Need to Know About Publishing I Learned from my Preacher Father

My father, G.H. Cummings, preaching on the radio as a young man

Practically being raised on a church pew helped set me on a literary path. We sang with gusto the gospel song, “Publish glad tidings, tidings of peace; tidings of Jesus, redemption and release.” During my growing-up years as my father’s daughter, watching him and my mother minister in many churches, I learned:

The potency and potential of words in a book.

In those days in church we were people of two books: the Bible and the hymnal. Every church service began and ended with opening that wondrous, heavy book, often holding it so the person next to you could share it. The hymnal united us as we joined our voices in lilting melodies and straightforward harmonies accompanied by my mother’s lively piano playing, often eliciting “amens” of blessing. All the symbols to help us make music together resided on the pages of that book, all the words to elicit such response, blended in heart-stirring, mind-engaging, and soul-satisfying rhythm, sense and rhyme.

In every meeting the Bible was also opened—and revered. The congregation stood for “the reading of the Word.” With a reverent, sonorous, unctuous voice, the preacher read a passage from the Bible, then exhorted from its inexhaustible storehouse of truth, wisdom, and life application. I saw evangelists hold their big, black, leather Bibles aloft in one large hand while exclaiming something like, “The Word of God is alive! It is sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing enough to reveal your sin.” And I quaked. But I also learned, quite young, that real comfort could be experienced from those pages. No mere words on paper. But alive! Jumping off the page and into the mind and heart of the reader or the listener. Quickening!

The preacher and his family. I’m the older sister there.

The joy of writing, printing, and disseminating words on paper.

I watched my preacher father as he typed the church bulletin—and perhaps a newsletter—during the week on his old black typewriter (I loved the clicking of the keys and how the little hammers hit the paper, resulting in words appearing and forming themselves into sentences that said something and that people would read and use to plan their week). On Saturday Daddy would crank out maybe two-hundred copies with his mimeograph machine. I can still smell the ink and hear the sheets of paper swoosh round the rollers and shoot out onto the pile of materials ready to be folded and stacked, then handed out and read—to inform and influence—to be published!

The importance of getting the word out.

Twice a year our churches held extended revival services with an itinerant evangelist, and, in preparation, Daddy would mimeograph a flyer about the upcoming week of meetings. I remember a few times when he paid my sister and me 5¢ each per city block to take the flyers door-to-door and invite people to the services (though “city block” doesn’t quite describe neighborhoods in these rural towns surrounded by farms). My sister and I learned the importance of overcoming our trepidation, knocking on doors, and getting out the word (much like the publicity side of book publishing).

The value of reading and sharing books.

We had few toys and TV (which we got when I was about 11) was our only “tech” entertainment. But always there were books. Books lined the shelves in my father’s study. He took my sister and me to the public library regularly, encouraging us to browse and check out books that interested us. My sister read every horse book she could find, especially those by Walter Farley. I read all the Louisa May Alcott books. And when we brought books home from school or library, our mother often read them, too, and we all enjoyed discussing together the stories. In fact, my sister and I always told each other the stories we read. As a result, I felt I’d read the Black Stallion books even though I never did. And she knew the characters and plots in Little Women and Under the Lilacs even though she didn’t read them. She didn’t have to. That ability to vicariously experience the stories really helped, because there were so many more books to discover! (A side note: When I was a girl I’d hear people argue their point in conversation by saying, “I know it’s true. I read it in a book!” Whether people were readers or not, I observed that most had a sort of reverential awe of books.)

G.H. Cummings in 2009

The importance of knowing your readers, your audience, your market.

My father made it a practice to call on his flock in their homes regularly and also to be there whenever trouble hit a family. He would stop by their businesses, farms, and work places for a friendly chat. When he stood in the pulpit to preach on Sunday, he knew those people. He knew their families, their joys and sorrows, the challenges they faced. He also knew their interests, their hobbies, what made them laugh or cry.

How to recruit, train, and encourage workers.

The work and mission of the church needed people of all abilities and ages (and still does). I saw discernment in operation, encouragement expressed, and responsibilities entrusted. Organizing, scheduling, holding meetings were necessary. But loving God and loving people mattered most. Whether or not I heard that expressed in so many words, I definitely “caught” the mindset. As a publisher I want to see sales and increase distribution. I want well-edited and designed books, I want engaged authors, reliable print providers, and enthusiastic book reviewers. I want customers to buy our books. But most of all I want to experience God’s presence in all we do. I want to always remember that, as a Christian publisher, what we publish truly is “glad tidings.”

My dad and me in a recent “selfie” shortly before his passing.

~Catherine Lawton

(This post was first published in 2013. I revised/edited it slightly and added more photos this time.)

Celebrating Twenty Years!

Here at Cladach Publishing, we’re celebrating twenty years of publishing inspirational books. During the next few months we will reminisce, share bonus content with our readers and followers, let you peek behind the scenes at Cladach (past and future), and offer one-time-only specials.

So much to celebrate!

Looking back, we’re amazed at what God has done—in, through, and with us, our authors, and our books—as we have sought to share stories and other writings that show God at work in our world. We believe now more than ever that God is present and working for good everywhere, all the time, now and forever!

Yes, pain, suffering, and confusion abound. But God’s light shines in the darkness and hope keeps us looking upward and moving forward with expectation.


“Let your steadfast love, O Lord, be upon us, even as we hope in you.” ~Ps. 33:22
“Since, then, we have such a hope, we act with great boldness.” ~2 Cor. 3:12

 

 

Full Circle: Capturing Imaginations, Hearts and Minds

 

A Story of Resiliency, Integrity, and Community

Each generation must find its way amidst cultural changes, clashes and conflicts. Carolina and Mauricio had to do this in the new novel, PRAIRIE TRUTH (just released). Reading a good historical novel not only gives the reader momentary escape, but paints a colorful picture and historical perspective that helps to clarify the conflicts of today.

Like the characters in PRAIRIE TRUTH, and like those who actually lived in the San Luis Valley of New Mexico / Colorado in the 1800s, I can look back at generations of my own family tree and find abundant examples of people fleeing persecution, oppression, and hardship to seek an identity, a living, and fulfillment.

My husband’s Danish forebears immigrated to America when Germany took over the southern section of Denmark on which their farm was located, and attempted to conscript their sons into the German army.

My Scots-Irish ancestors had earlier found their way to America amidst turmoils, persecutions, and deprivations in their part of the British Isles.

My great-grandparents found their way to a homestead in Eastern Colorado to seek new opportunities.

Members of my mother’s birth family found their way to the agricultural fields of California to escape the poverty of the Dust Bowl and Great Depression era in Oklahoma and southeast Colorado.

Another great-great grandmother, who is said to have been a Cherokee Indian escaped from the Trail of Tears, hid at the back of a tobacco farmer’s fields in Indiana and raised his illegitimate child. That child, who grew to be my great-grandfather, took the farmer’s name, avoided school, farmed steadily, and carved out a quiet life raising a family and serving the Lord, keeping silent about his parentage.

Fact can be stranger than fiction, and that makes fiction like PRAIRIE TRUTH believable. In this historical novel, a young woman born on the Colorado prairie to a white settler’s daughter and a Cheyenne Indian, never fully accepted by either culture, leaves home and rides her horse toward the mountains and high valleys southwest of Denver. There she learns the language and customs, and blends in, at least for a time. There she make friends, proves her abilities to contribute to the good of a community, and falls in love.

She finds out that her new community itself—the San Luis Valley of Colorado in 1888—is racially and culturally and religiously mixed also. Wars have been fought and won or lost. Borders of nations and states have been re-drawn. They must adjust to new language, new laws, and prejudices. But also, new opportunities present themselves.

The sufferings, traumas, and separations of the past were as real as those of today. The challenges of the present may feel insurmountable at times. But learning how resiliency, integrity, and community have carved paths of hope in times past, gives us courage to face into our problems today with renewed faith and hope for a better future.

~Catherine

 

 

A Summer Path of Devotion

Stepping onto the garden path one early morning in August.

Since all our honeybees died last winter, my husband and I decided our beekeeping days were over. The time had come to take out the bee hives in the corner flower garden and use the extra space to add a foot path through the flowers, grasses, and greenery. During these summer months, this simple, curving garden path has become my early morning meditation/prayer walk. On cool mornings, before the heat of the day, I stand and gaze at the flower faces glistening and opening petals to morning sun, and my heart opens to Creator God, the same one who walked in the garden with Adam and Eve. It seems God is still dwelling, revealing, and walking in gardens.

This summer, on that lovely path my husband cleared and lined for me—with river-rock edging and cedar-chip paving—God has been there with me, helping me start each morning with awareness of, and fellowship with, his ever-creating, giving, empowering, caring presence.

After breakfast and coffee, and just before I step onto the path, I wait, in a moment of listening, for today’s focus of prayer. One day it was thankfulness. With each two steps I said (and meant) “Thank you” (stepping with left foot) “for family” (with right). Left always the same. Right included: new mornings, God’s mercies, colors of flowers, shades of green, people to love, a faithful dog staying close, gentle breezes giving relief from heat, hope for tomorrow.

Another day, loved ones came distinctly to mind, and I pictured them each in their places, facing their particular challenges. With each two steps I interceded for individuals in my family with a real sense of participating in God’s purposes, asking in his will, and was given the assurance that God’s heart was hearing my heart as I sought to hear his.

One morning, as the first rays of the rising sun shimmered through translucent petals, leaves glowed and dew drops sparkled, my heart lifted in praise. I felt God’s smile through the newness and beauty of life around me. With each set of left-right steps (taken slowly, savoringly) I spoke the praise I felt for God’s beauty, mercy, constancy, Fatherly heart, and for the way he creates new possibilities amidst the unfolding of each day.

Some morning prayer walks have included confession, as well as release and surrender.

I miss having a garden beehive, and the fresh honey we extracted; but this year we have enjoyed observing the wide variety of native pollinators that have visited our gardens; and the corner bee garden that I previously had to stay out of in the mornings because of honeybees protecting their hive), has become a welcoming prayer garden where faith and hope are pollinated. And the experience of starting my day with those few moments of communion is as sweet as any honey.

Note: This meditation is re-posted (slightly edited), with gratitude, from Godspace, where it first appeared: https://godspacelight.com/2019/08/28/a-summer-path-of-devotion/

~Catherine

 

Where Do the Poems Come From?

Where Do the Poems Come From?

“Which do you like most? The mountains or the ocean?” My sister and I would ask each other.

I could never decide. In California for much of my life, I didn’t have to choose. We had both within close distance. I could look up and see the steadfastness of the Sierras or the Coastal Range with their redwoods, pines, deer, bears, raccoons, waterfalls and trout streams that fed the valleys. I could often feel the ocean breezes and smell the salt air from tides so full of power yet knowing their limits, from waves that lapped like earth’s heartbeat.

The metaphors we claim as our own come to us from our surroundings like a fawn stepping out of the forest or beach glass glistening in the sand.

“Which season do you like best?” was another question my sister and I would discuss. Winter offered Christmas. Summer offered school-less, barefoot days, swimming and camping. Spring meant orchards in bloom, Easter, newness.

When I returned with my husband in midlife to my native state of Colorado, I found that daily life was even more determined by the seasons here, especially winter and summer. I found that Spring near the Rockies is a matter of winter and summer fighting it out until summer wins a precarious victory.

But fall remains my favorite season, a time of the year that most inspires me to write poems. As I prepare this collection, I find myself in the Autumn of my life. Christmas doesn’t bring quite the same delight and anticipation except as our grown children and our six grandchildren share the celebrations with my husband and me. Summer I love in this high country, where wildflowers bloom from spring to early fall, the scent of summer rains on prairie grasses imparts indescribable sweetness, and sunsets paint glorious colors across the wide sky.

But fall … During this season of life colors have muted a little, most storms have settled, and anticipation of change keeps one mindful that each era of life comes—and then passes. We must gather the harvest, the fruit, the beauty—as I do from my garden—and preserve it, distill it, package it to sustain us in the winter and to share with others.

When we lived near the Pacific Coast of Northern California, we enjoyed hunting for agates on the beach any time of year. Sometimes as a wave receded, we’d see the semi-precious stones tumbling in the gravelly sand. This process had polished them to translucence, often revealing mossy patterns inside, each unique and formed by the accumulated years. Other types of agates are found in the mountains and on the plains. Each of these gems uniquely encapsulates the effects of pressures and changes in the formation of our earth home. Yet, looking deep within each agate elicits a certainty that these natural processes were guided by a beautiful, loving, almighty Creator.

I think poems are like agates.

This week I had a conversation with my sister, who has also written verse. “Where does a poem come from?” we wondered aloud. Sometimes it seems to rise up from some secret place deep within. Other times a poem—or the inspiration for one—seems to come from without. Our grandfather used to say with a twinkle in his eye that he wrote poems when the “muse sat on his shoulder.” To me it seems as if help comes surely, perhaps from a literary angel. In his poem, “The Country of Déjà Vu,” Wendell Berry asserts that his poems “came through the air, I wrote them down, and sent them on” like migrating birds stopping at his feeder. Perhaps that is as good an explanation as any.

I still marvel at an experience I had in my young adult years. At home with two toddlers, my husband busy with his career, I was emotionally bound up by griefs and losses, especially the death of my mother. I hadn’t written a poem for a long time. One evening I went by myself to a poetry reading at a religious retreat center near our home. I knew no one there. The woman poet read with warmth from verses full of life and light and love. I didn’t go expecting this to happen; but, somehow, soaking in the spoken rhyme, rhythm, and sense, awakened the gift in me. For months after that evening, poems began freely coming to mind. The opening of this fountain provided one part of the healing the Lord began working in and through me, which continues today.

Admittedly, I am not a disciplined poet. I can compose meter and rhyme on demand; but mostly I wait for that elusive and mysterious inspiration. The important thing is to capture on paper the phrases, images, and insights as they come; to sit with them, savor them, polish them like agates; and if they pass the test of holding together and ringing true, to share them.

I won’t limit each poem’s meaning by trying to explain the emotions and experiences that, for me, are encapsulated in each one. As I send them out, they are free to take on new meanings as each reader looks into them. Perhaps for you a poem will speak to a quandary, a sorrow, or a joy you are experiencing at this season of your life. That is the beauty of sharing a gift of poetry.

(Note: This essay is published in my book, Remembering Softly: A Life in Poems, © 2016, under the title “A Word About These Poems” serving as an introduction to a selection of poems written throughout my youth and adult years (so far).)


Photo: overlooking a Lost Coast beach, Humboldt County, CA.  © C.Lawton

 

Be Still and Know

During the month of April we are Celebrating:

  • National Poetry Month
  • Lent/Easter
  • and Spring!

Take time to experience, appreciate, and meditate on Re-awakenings and Renewal:

  • in Nature all around us;
  • in our Relationships to God and each other;
  • of our Spiritual Life and Eternal Hope.

    Reading inspirational poems can help you focus, “be still and know.”

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