Observations

Touch Someone Today! Hugs Could Heal the World!

2011-02-18T09:57:00.000-05:00

Leo Buscaglia said, "Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around."

Since moving to Florida I haven't entered into the community on a one-on-one relationship. I skim along the surface without getting involved with anything but my day to day life. I float through a sea of faces and no longer look to search for someone I know -- there is no one. They all live in another place, it seems like they live in another time as well. Detached, I think I'm unemcumbered by others' expectations and demands. It is a kind of freedom. I tell myself this over and over, and then that thought creeps in "No man is an island."

After a half-decade I now see familiar faces behind the counters at the local grocery. I don't know their names, except for one woman, about my own age, who works there carrying out groceries. We exchanged first names. Connie.

Last year, about this time, she helped me get groceries to the car and she asked the usual polite questions. It just so happens that at that moment I didn't know if my husband would live or die and her kind inquiries loosened my grip on a flood of tears. Without hesitation she pulled me into a hug. I could smell her perfume on my shirt for the rest of the day. It reminded me that we don't really need to know each other to care. And it amazed me at how deeply her simple act of kindness touched me.

Yesterday Connie, who I hadn't seen for awhile, helped me with my groceries. We both were having a better time of it. Her husband had had successful surgery and mine was doing great. We shared a hug and much to my surprise the tears sprang to my eyes. I may be free and unfettered as I skim through the community, but I'm also giving up hugs, smiles, handshakes, and encouraging and caring gestures. Just being touched brought such a deeply emotional reaction, that I was shaken even after arriving home. Even after putting the groceries away. Even now, a day later.

I wonder about people who live alone, or are in nursing homes or haven't been touched for years. What would happen if someone hugged them? We watch animals and see that they require contact with their fellow pack mates. Our cats snuggle, pat each other, wash each other. They know the need for touch. This website can tell you more about hugs.

That touch or my reaction to it, showed me just how I spend my days. Most of the time I hide behind shields or have my armor in place. I'm courteous, thoughtful, polite, but distant. Most of us, sadly, are comfortable with this kind of public behavior.
Recently while watching the events unfold in Egypt, I was drawn to the way the people touched each other. A hand on a shoulder, a hug, a slap on the back. Some carried the wounded or hurt in their arms. It didn't seem to matter if they knew each other or not. Their humanity connected them.

They also worked together, set up areas of need -- clinic, food, latrine, and 'safe zones' where people could go to rest and rejuvenate. Whoever organized these rallies of hundreds of thousands of people took into consideration the human needs. We often forget that we have such needs.

That hug yesterday was a most welcome act of kindness. I wish I were a hugger, but it isn't 'natural' to me, except with my closest family members. My kids tease me that I'm a tree hugger. Well, maybe it is time to expand my range of hugs to include some others, like me, who need to be reminded that someone still cares. Still sees them. Heaven knows we need some more positive things, need to see our leaders being better people, more compassionate, more responsible, more involved in elevating all mankind, not just those who can reward them. Maybe you and I must set the example for them.
Charles Kuralt, known for his years with the TV program "On the Road with Charles Kuralt" believes that "The everyday kindness of the back roads more than makes up for the acts of greed in the headlines." I want to believe that he is right.

Mother Goes to Jail, Kids Go to Inferior School

2011-01-28T10:05:00.006-05:00

An Akron mother was sentenced to jail for attempting to enroll her children in a better school. She is divorced, lives in public housing as too many divorced and single mothers do. According to Ohio laws governing school enrollment, her children should have been enrolled in the school that served the area where she resided. This school has a 76 percent graduation rate and met only 4 of the 26 standards on the Ohio Department of Education Report Card.

I have some confusion. I thought it was the father, but others have said the grandfather resides in the suburbs. The school district in his area has a 98 percent graduation rate. It meets 26 of the 26 standards. Needless to say the Akron District school that served the mother's area was primarily serving a black demographic. The Copely-Fairlawn School district that provided education for her husband's area boasted a student body that was 75 percent white students.

The mother was sentenced to five years in prison with all suspended except for 10 days. She must serve 80 hours of community service and is on probation for three years. She had been working as a teacher's aide at the high school in Akron and was 12 credits shy of earning her teaching degree at the University of Akron. Now, because of this felony conviction the mother will not be allowed to teach school in Ohio.

The father or grandfather is not touched by all of this, yet he was just as involved as the mother. And they both thought that since the children lived at least part time at the suburban address that they were not doing anything illegal. In fact alot of people do this and get away with it. In fact this mother Ms. Williams-Bolar is the only one prosecuted for this 'crime.'

I understand the schools must maintain order. Must have limitations and laws governing enrollment. Yet they just put a woman in jail, ruined her chance for a better life and to practice the profession for which she is training because she tried to get a reasonable education for her children.

She was fighting for her children.

The school was fighting to enforce a very un-American bureauecratic administration. America is founded on trying to have a better life for our kids. We all know education is the bedrock of such a move out of poverty and violence and yet the very institution that says it is sworn to education our children filed charges against the mother and blocked her children's access to a better education.

Does the school system work to make all educational institutions equal? Apparently not or not effectively and NOT in time to help Ms. Williams-Bolar's children.

Recently several of us have gotten together on my facebook page and discussed abortion rights, pro-choice, pro-life, etc. And the one thing some of us keep bumping up against is the quality of the life of the child. Whether pro-life or pro-choice, we agree that we ignore the child after it is born. If people are against a mother's choice and they want to save the baby at all costs -- then why do they abandon it after it is born? Why isn't there a system to care for and nurture and love that child after it is born? I suppose this question is more strongly in my thoughts after a recent news story about a mother who left her 7 month old son with a babysitter for several days. Evidently something she has done quite often. The babysitter said she took a nap. Awoke and couldn't find the baby. It was found in a picnic cooler which was placed outside of the home. The baby was dead. I don't want to let my imagination dwell on what that baby went through in those seven months. Seven months of torture or a quick abortion?

I worked for a short time at a children's services agency that took care of among other things abused and neglected children. A county agency. I worked in the office and when they picked up a child it sometimes fell to me to keep an eye on the children while paperwork was being filed and caseworkers were dealing with tearful and angry parents. That was more than 30 years ago and I can still see this beauiful little four-year-old boy. He had such blue eyes, coffee latte skin and such sorrow and confusion. He also had lacerations and abrasions where he'd been tied up. Around his neck, his wrists and his ankles. He had cigarette burns on his face, on his scalp, his neck, his shoulders, his belly, his back, his buttocks, his genitals, his inner thighs, behind his knees and inner elbows, on the bottoms of his feet.... I grieve for that child who stood silent in my office. His eyes so full of pain I couldn't bear it.

Here we have a responsible mother who is working hard to better herself, get out of the housing development she was cast into after her divorce and at the same get her children the best education she can. Now I know doubts creep in. Maybe this woman was not Mother Teresa. Maybe she has dark secrets and maybe she isn't a great person. And you can wonder why she is divorced. But is that really important? And who are we to judge?

She didn't lie. Her children do live with their grandfather or father and they live with her. Someone ventured the opinion that she was probably taken to court because she fought the administration so hard....

What would you do if you could get your children into a clean, violence free suburban school or keep them in a dirty, below par -- WAY below expectations -- school plagued with all of the inner city drugs, violence, and risks?

Why aren't we stepping up to stand beside Ms. Williams-Bolar of Akron, Ohio? Is it because she is black? Is it because she is an example and we support the school red tape rather than a quality education for her children? Is she not beautiful enough? White enough? Educated enough? Rich enough for us to care about what happens to her and her family?

If she was trying to abort her babies there would have been marching and picketing and pamphlets sent and hate mail. Some feminist women might have rallied around her to protect her right to end the life of her baby. But she wasn't doing any of that. Ms. Williams-Bolar was stepping up and fighting for an education for her children. She wasn't just making do. She was attempting to make her life better. It is after all what the Conservative Right say she should do. It is what the Liberal Left encouarge her to do.

Yet there is an outcry against supporting those who live in poverty. Somehow it is their fault that they are not rich, powerful, beautiful, successful, healthy and contributing to the community. There is a movement to stop supporting people like Ms. Williams-Bolar in her time of need. Some do not want to give her hand outs. They say she should make her own way. And that's exactly what she's been doing. She isn't alot different than a popular author -- Rowlings is her name I believe. Might have heard of her little series of Harry Potter books....

A felony? Really?

What a shame if all of the people in Akron enrolled their children in a better school system instead of allowing their government to keep them prisoner in an underfunctioning sham of a school.

Is this really what America is all about? The more I think about this situation and the way we uphold institutions that ravish our powerless population, I am ashamed and enraged. And I want to know what I can do to eliminate the ineffective 'welfare' system. The ridiculous excuse for public education. The employment/unemployment training for new jobs (McDonald's here I come).... How ridiculous!

How long do we look the other way and wonder why so many gangs are forming and people are carrying guns and violence is up? How long do you think the anger can continue to build before it bursts out in carnage and distruction? How long can we imprison mothers who fight the rules and regulations and institutions that destroy their children why proclaiming that they are helping them....

For want of a 'proper' residency form according to the school's very narrow definition, this woman goes to jail and her children are confined to a school that WILL DO THEM HARM.

I know what I would do for my children. What will we do for Ms. Williams-Bolars? And all of the others who are working hard to make a better life for their children? You realize that we are all one job loss, one catastropic illness, one divorce away from being in her shoes....

Tucson Inevitable in an Atmosphere of Hate

2011-01-12T21:05:00.001-05:00

I write this mostly for my own clarification so please excuse any ramblings as I try to unravel my own thoughts about the shooting in Tucson and its relationship to the violence that has crept into today's rhetoric.

First let me say that I do not see Sarah Palin as a direct cause of the shooter's actions. Yet, it was her name that immediately sprang to mind when I heard of the event. I think her responsibility for such actions is much broader and far reaching than this one young man.

A writing friend finds it ludicrous that I would think that there is any connection whatsoever between Palin and Tucson. But she seems to consider only one way that Palin and the shooter could be connected and that would be if he was a student of her politics or follower or was aware of her map that targeted the Congresswoman with a gun crosshairs symbol.

I know the connection is not that direct.

When I heard that a young man had walked up to Congresswoman Giffords, raised a gun and shot her from about a foot away from her head. Shot her in the head. I thought of Sarah Palin and that candidate Angle who suggested second amendment remedies for those who opposed her. Not that I thought the man had any affiliation to these women or was directly influenced by them. But the relationship was as clear to me as the smile on my child's face. Palin had placed the target on this woman. Palin had gone out of her way to use volatile rhetoric, words like kill, death, 'don't retreat, reload.' She encouraged that kind of discourse and coarseness in the public political debate. And others took that as a signal that they could do the same.

I don't understand how Palin or anyone can spout those kinds of hate based words and then turn around and say what a strong Christian she is. In my brain the two just don't go together. I was raised by a gentle but strong woman. She was pure steel when it came to the way one talked about another. You NEVER wished anyone dead. You never wished them ill. Even if you were mistreated, you turned the other cheek -- again and again. She taught us to pray for our enemies and not to pray that they would be caught in the crosshairs. So the form of Christianity I was taught seems so at odds with the entire persona of Sarah Palin.

Don't misunderstand me. I am not against anyone, including Palin, who live lives that include guns or who hunt, fish and live off the land. I do object to anyone who abuses the land, the animals, and kills for sport. I respect responsible lives. Responsible and appropriate regard for guns.

Guns were a part of our life. We just took for granted that there were rifles and shotguns in the closet. Unloaded of course. Taken apart so that no child could hurt him or herself. But guns were just there. I guess we understood that they were for necessities. Tools. We could hunt for meat if necessary and on a more unconscious level we thought of them as protection if we were ever attacked. Of course I grew up in the post WWII and Korea era. It was a reality for an enemy to overwhelm a person's home, community and cause them to defend themselves as best they could. We revered stories about the French Resistance. Guns were part of that story. The guns were not glorified. They were tools to defend freedom and provide for one's family.

The only gun I personally objected to was my brother's BB gun. He didn't have the respect, nor the understanding of how to properly use the gun. He stood under the big locust tree in our back yard and shot birds just to see if he could hit them. Thankfully he wasn't a very good shot. But I still see the robin that fell at my feet. And I must admit that my adoration for an older brother slipped a notch or two. But then again children don't understand death or the finality of it. And there was a part of me that itched to see if I could shoot straight. Hit the target. I think the day, with a little help from me and a friend, he accidently shot himself in the hand, we both learned that there is a side to guns and shooting that is quite painful and deserves more respect.

But when guns are used even in metaphor against a political opponent -- that makes no sense. It is pure abuse.

Politicians use words. Are adept with their use. They are tools and too often weapons. So when a politician chooses a gun metaphor or wishes his opponent dead or calls him or her an 'enemy.' What can anyone hearing that think but that they meant to convey a feeling and a thought that had only been used in war?

The words coming from our leaders, our media, the pundits, the cable opinion mongers, are as lethal as bullets. We no longer debate. We attack. It seems to be a take-no-prisoner mentality when it is not about killing your enemy, but about supporting your political party and their beliefs. It is not a life and death fight. Or am I missing something?

Do I think the young man who shot and killed so many members of a community was ill? Yes. Do I think he alone was responsible for his actions? Yes. Do I think that the vitriolic rhetoric set a tone in this nation that fostered, even nourished his behavior? Definitely. Yes!

Every leader has a responsibility. Everyone with a platform is charged with the responsibility to use it appropriately and responsibly. When did that get shoved to the side? When did it become whatever does the most damage is fine? I am so ashamed of the rhetoric in this country. So very ashamed that a Christian voices such nasty, hateful words and then sluffs them off with an even more despicable excuse, trying to say that there is a blood libel against her....

I am unable to listen to Rush Limbaugh or Mr. Beck. I cringe and find it painful to listen to them attack their fellow man. Do they not know that everyone is a child of God? We are not enemies; we are fellow citizens traveling the same roads.

It is troubling that we are so divided. Another friend, who is bound to me by our love of fabric art, said that perhaps I would see it differently when things were reversed. If she meant that when the people representing my beliefs began shouting death, they should die, target and wipe 'em out and other such violent epithets, that I would see the reason in them. But, you see my friend, anyone who believes as I believe would never consider that kind of attack. I believe that we all are equal. All are human. All deserve a good life, equal rights, safe lives, and secure homes. I don't think anyone should be hungry or in poverty. I don't believe anyone is better than another. And when it comes to wealth -- it is not for personal gain, but is actually a responsibility, a call to help those less fortunate. The same with power. It should be used to edify one's fellow man. So if one of the leaders who represent the party to which I belong begins spouting hate statements, I would reject him. He would not be sharing my beliefs and I could not condone such actions.

Again I wonder how a Christian can accept such violent hate-filled discourse.

So, maybe I have not unraveled anything with this blog. Maybe it is only more confusing. I know it saddens me to spend time thinking about the chasm that divides me from so many people who are my dearest friends and even relatives. But most of all it frightens me that I cannot understand how anyone can condone this violent advocating rhetoric.

Blank Slate: 2011

2011-01-01T08:26:00.005-05:00

It's going to be an odd year. The date tells us that -- eleven. Odd.

At this point, 6:30 a.m. on the morning of the first day of 2011, it has so much potential -- odd or otherwise. I can also see that the year will be shrouded in mystery if the morning is any portent of things to come.

A mixture of the familiar and the mysterious. My husband's regular breathing. The cats, unrelenting, disregarding a new beginning continue their old habit of waking me, making me comform to their schedule. Familiar.

I take my cue and follow their tails raised straight and rigid as if they carry their banner proudly into the fray. Today we parade to the kitchen where I meekly offer these little feline gods what they want. They are willing to walk all over my prone body, shove their furry paw in my face, sit on my head, and knock one by one everything they can reach off of dresser and counter tops until I leap from bed. That is the familiar.

When my three nemesis are contentedly grazing over their food bowls, I look out of the window expecting to see a familiar landscape. But it has changed.

Mists lie heavy turning the yellowed grass and neighbors' houses and trees into something alien and yes, mysterious. It is a Holmsian street scene for all I can tell. The street lights have a golden aura about them as if their light is trapped and unable to move past the white swirling mass that surrounds it. I cannot see the neighbor's house across the street, only the house's fixtures glow on either side of the garage door. Their light also held captive.

I pad on bare feet to the back of the house. I can't see any further than the neighbor's fence. All details are distorted or totally covered in a white veil. My sight cannot penetrate it. The practice ring where the owners train their horses stands empty. It is where they teach each horse to make every move on cue and not to do anything unless told. Through the years I have sat silently watching from my back porch as the rider leads the horse through its routine. Dressage, I believe is the name of the competitions they prepare for. Forward, backward, sideways, now fast, now slow, now pick up your feet, dainty, proper, control. Control. The check rein makes the horse curve its neck like a swan.

I think of Black Beauty, the first 'adult' book I read as a child. The first book I purchased. It was an offer on a cereal box. With box tops, I bought a world bound in an inexpensive cover. But when I opened the book, began reading the words, my little safe childish world expanded to include a horse and people who by turns loved and abused him throughout his life. I was never quite the same. Perhaps once again horses will lead me into another world, expand my own limited space. But I suspect that as with every day of my life since opening that book, it will be the words and the pages, the stories and the characters who will lead me.

As I look at the little farm, I realize that the new year begins with a bleakness over their little enterprise. I hope the recession has not caused this little farm to shut its doors. We don't need more housing developments to swallow up the land. But we do need a family farm. We need people who follow the seasons, are close to nature. We need those who feed and train horses and take responsibility for their own livelihood and who follow their bliss. I need to see a rural setting in this bedroom community I now call home. Otherwise its paved streets and manicured lawns become a stepford landscape and we are all robots programmed to exist from paycheck to paycheck.

I seek inspiration in words and find Aisha Elderwyn's challenge: "Every new year people make resolutions to change aspects of themselves they believe are negative. A majority of people revert back to how they were before and feel like failures. This year I challenge you to a new resolution. I challenge you to just be yourself."

Just be yourself. I have forgotten who that is. Through a confetti of memories I try to piece together the girl, the young woman, that I was. She had passion. She had fight. She had dreams. She had goals. She had a list of things she would never do. My lips curl in a smile laced with irony. And that girl has done just about everything on that list. Meekly I've turned my life over to others. Followed what I believed to be the 'right' thing to do. Bent to the will of the times, the culture, the boss. Will 2011 be more of the same or is it the year when I find that young woman's spirit again? Will I remember what I wanted to accomplish with my life? Will I live the life I had imagined? Will I follow Thoreau to Walden Pond? Or am I doomed to live a half life?

Will I be at the mercy of this year or will I take charge? Make changes? Become bold and strong and live the life I've imagined? Or will I bend to its will. Its inertia. Will the time pass holding me captive like a bug in amber? Am I just waiting? Or is this the time? Is it balanced? Eleven is such a well balanced number comprised of two ones. Two beginnings. Two firsts. Will this be a year of firsts? Balance? Numerology seems to think it is a fine number.

Mom told me that Grandma had a tradition. Every New Year's Day she made new pillow cases. Mom did it once or twice, but it was much easier to just wait for the white sales around President's Day and buy them. It seemed a very utilitarian tradition and I didn't pick up on it until a quilting friend told me the rest of the story. Utilitarian perhaps, but the pillow cases were made to hold the hopes and dreams for the coming year.

It is hard for me to imagine my mother and grandmother following such a fanciful tradition. But maybe there was a time when they were both young women, girls, who remembered why they were here. Maybe they had their own hopes and goals and the feeling that anything is possible. Sadly, by the time I met both women, life had beaten them down and it seemed like it took all of their strength just to get through each day. They survived. They worked hard. They took what life dealt them and slogged on.

I've been slogging along. I miss the joy and passion and thrill of embracing life, challenging it, risking a bit, moving past the mists that hold my light captive. In only an hour the mists are all but gone. The sun highlights the rosemary bush growing lush and free, more alive since the cold snap.

The horses gallop around the pastures free to follow their urge for speed, for fun, for a roll in the grass. I stare from inside of my house. I have a finite space on this earth, I have set my boundaries of where I am most comfortable and am usually content to stay. But, I realize that while I sit in my office, my thoughts are free to venture anywhere they want. The world in my head is ever expanding. Is 2011 the year that I give myself permission to also move around this earth, put aside boundaries and get better acquainted with the landscape?

The sun now shines brightly and I see more clearly. This is definitely an odd year already.

Book Review for the Mystery Lovers

2010-09-20T13:51:00.001-04:00

Tide Water Talisman
A Luanne Fogarty Mystery
By Glynn Marsh Alam

This author’s mysteries are listed as the Luanne Fogarty Mystery series – but don’t be deceived, the main character as in all eight of her books is the Florida swamp. I came to this series when the first book was fresh off the presses. I have enjoyed every book since.

Perhaps I’m most engaged when the author sends Luanne into the caves and hidden spaces beneath the Palmetto River and ‘totally immerses’ her in the swamp. At those times you can see the ghostly Spanish moss swaying from skeletal trees, hear the insects’ songs, and feel the heavy humid air pressing against you like the spirit of the swamp looking over your shoulder. And the water, always the water, moving on never stopping, lazily accepting everyone and everything that falls into it.

Tide Water Talisman gains relevance in today’s world of post-Katrina recovery. Refugees from that devastated area have set up a small enclave of businesses and trailer homes near Luanne’s swampy home. But they start turning up dead.

Luanne and the Sheriff’s department for which she works part time as a ‘civilian’ when not teaching linguistics at the nearby college, rely on Pasquin. This eighty something neighbor is part of the local grapevine and knows all of the stories, all of the people, and most of the swamp’s secrets. The secondary characters are so colorful in this series that often Luanne seems to blend into the background and they take over. But it is her voice that narrates the novel, so she is never far from the reader’s thoughts.

There are many ways to die, as we learn from this book, yet all come as a surprise. Put death in a swampy Florida river and you’ve got a mystery with atmosphere so real you’ll smell the earthy lagoons, and hear the buzz of mosquitoes as you turn the pages.

The read is all too brief. I always wish her books were longer. LONGER! Hear me Glynn???

Media for Women doesn't help me fix my AC

2010-08-23T11:34:00.000-04:00

This headline from the Guardian popped out at me this morning: "Tomorrow's media needs to be wired, inspired and for women".

What exactly does that mean?

It appears that women's lit defines novels for women as dealing with feelings, love, romance, body image, hormones, fight against aging, and internal angst. If the media defines 'women's media' that way, I will be forced to join the good old boys club. I haven't read a 'women's magazine in years. They are so bland and are saying the same things they said 50 years ago. Some may actually use vagina and penis these days as opposed to skirting the issue as in the 50s and even 60s, but it is the same old same old! Does Good Housekeeping discuss water sports? No. Not even the water skiing kind of water sports. Do they actually tell a woman what HAPPENS to her during menopause or simply make a joke about the hot flashes and mood swings that accompany it? Same with adolescence. Do we really know what is happening to make our bodies morph into strange beings?

Do I really care whether my tablescape is inviting or I'm up to date on the latest recipes or foodie indulgence? I like beauty and I love to eat, but when I read a magazine I'd really like to come away with information that makes me feel wiser, educated, better able to make a reasoned and reasonable decision.

Do I want to read a comparison of products? Yes. Do I want to know what the latest products are? Not really, unless they are so unusual, much improved, new technology, and actually are what they say they are. I'm so sick of hype and exaggeration and manipulation that I don't pay much attention to any advertising other than to ask, "What are they not telling me? What is the truth? Can I even find the truth in their advertisement?"

What, for heaven sakes is the point of 'Zoom, zoom.' Does it tell me about the quality of the car? The facts I need to know to make a major investment? Would I purchase stock in their company with so little information? Can you imagine stock market advertisements "Invest in utilities -- Zoom, zoom." So Mazda supports racing, embraces speed. But can they stop? Do the brakes work? That would have been good to know when buying a Toyota.

What would I enjoy in women's media, if there must be a separation, what are the best articles I've read lately? It wouldn't be found in any of the seven sisters -- or is it six or five? How many of those women's magazines are left? Right now I would like to read about how to fix my central air/furnace. The company who installed it has decided that it is lack of maintenance that caused the problem. We have had service men coming out to work on this almost every two to three months -- how much maintenance does it need?

I want to know how to deal with a company that sells you a lemon and doesn't want to make it right.

I want to know how to get satisfaction and good service and how to get past their CYA and lip service and get someone who actually knows how to fix the product.

I'd also like to trust what I read somewhere! I'm so tired of spin and hype and half truths or total lies. I want to know the ingredients in the make up I smear on my face and what animals or plants or ecosystem was harmed in the making of the product.

I'd like to understand where my recycled items go, how they are used, and who benefits or not. Where is my garbage dumped? Is my trash sold to another country?

I want to know what no one is talking about. I want to know the story behind the story. I want to know why decisions are made, not just the decision and what they were wearing the day they announced their decision.

I want to know the truth about birds and wind turbines.

I want to know why the words "I'm sorry" have been added to the 'do not say' list for fear they will mean an admission of responsibility and lead to a lawsuit.

After talking with the department head of the air and heat company servicing my machine, I felt like I needed to take a shower and get the filth off. He spouted party line without any ounce of regret for leaving us with a $5000 investment in their product which does not work! Why do I always think there is a human behind the voice, someone with a heart, with a conscience, and who is driven by something other than profit. Why do I constantly forget that the company cares less about my satisfaction and more about my pocketbook. I go into a business to produce a product I'm proud of -- I forget that too many companies do NOT! They go into business to make money. There is a reason that old Biblical verse about 'love of money is the root of all evil' continues to be true today. Some things never change. Why do I forget that?

I want to know what happened to customer service?

I want my women's media to help me deal with these sleazy corporate heartless types and help me find the right words to get the kind of customer service I can live with. Perhaps all I really want is a lawyer right now and a victory over the company who was my friend until they took my money and have been an adversary ever since.

Noble: a word or a way of life?

2010-07-24T09:18:00.001-04:00

Seems like I live my life in a defensive posture. Crouched and ready to lunge like some lineman in a football game waiting for the ball to be snapped. The tension is intense. Always on guard.

On guard for the next blow, the next cruel attack. I could lay blame for the life lessons that brought me to this position. But I'm struggling to rise above that blame game.

Recently I reviewed a book written by an author who most evidently lived in a similar posture. I didn't like what I read. It was negative and bent on laying blame for his misfortunes and missed opportunities and failures on the people, institutions, and situations around him.

As we grow, one of the major signals of maturity is the end to the blame game and the acceptance that it is our lives to make or break as we choose. Even in the most dire of situations we have the power to choose how we will perceive, react, use, and grow. Too often I'm crouched, ready to spring on whatever assails me. I'm more surprised when someone does something nice, than if they do something hurtful. I expect the worst and suspect everything else.

I recently read a quote from John H. Dietrich. John is NOT the political writer. He was a minister who lived from 1878-1957 and thought and taught, according to his online bio, that "humanist thinking was the true foundation of religious liberalism."

Truthfully, I'm not quite sure I understand what that means. But towards the end of his life he said, "[My] philosophy and religion have undergone considerable, if not drastic revision. I realize now how my utter reliance upon science and reason and my contempt for any intuitive insights and intangible values which are the very essence of art and religion, was a great mistake; and the way in which I cut mankind off from all cosmic relationship was very short-sighted and arrogant."

I read that to mean that he finally found a greater being, God if you will, to be relevent. As one who loves words and fiber art and the beauty and symbolism of both, I had to smile. Apparently he finds God is the essence, not only of religion, but also of art. Yes, I can see that. Most artists marvel at what they create. Some even wonder 'where did THAT come from?" Now we know, as Mr. D states it -- their 'cosmic relationship.'

Even if Mr D had been misguided during his search for truth earlier in his life, he was right about another thing he said. "The highest and best thing that people can conceive is a human life nobly and beautifully lived."

I mentioned on my Subversive Stitchers: Women Armed with Needles facebook page that I stood up to defend my husband by calling a driver an asshole. The studly man was sitting in his bright yellow sports car basically toying with my wheelchair bound husband as he rolled along the crosswalk in front of this man. The driver revved his engine and started rolling forward, grinning, as my husband rolled directly in front of the car. All of the fury that I harbor against the unfair disease and situation that assails my husband erupted from my mouth in that one word. I think I have scarred for life the poor bag boy helping us with our purchases. The anger was almost tangible and the driver quickly stopped grinning and looked at me in surprise.

I heard my husband chuckle. I think he enjoys my Mama Bear mode.

But it is taking a toll on me that I really didn't appreciate until I read Mr. D's words. I hadn't realized that I had gotten off the main journey I was intended to travel. I should be living a "life nobly and beautifully lived." Calling a stranger in a souped up car an asshole somehow doesn't sound very noble.

Of course, noble does not mean silent and long suffering either. So maybe there was a tinge of nobility for at least speaking up, pointing out an injustice, an inhumane behavior. We should live to edify not just ourselves, but to help others which is perhaps the best part of Mr. Dietrich's quote:

"The highest and best thing that people can conceive is a human life nobly and beautifully lived — therefore their loyalties and energies should be devoted to the arrangement of conditions which make this possible. The sole issue is how to make this world a place conducive to the living of a noble human life, and then to help people in every possible way to live such lives."

I think of all of the leaders who make decisions controlling lives and wonder just how nobly they are living. Perhaps the question we should ask our politicians is: "are you living a noble life?"

If one must find a way to 'justify' one's actions, then perhaps there is a bit of nobility lacking. Perhaps if it only benefits the one rather than the many it isn't noble. Or if it hurts others in the process of gathering something you want -- it isn't noble.

We all know noble when we see it. It doesn't require an explanation. Noble doesn't need to wear a white hat or a wimple or a cross, or even a military insignia. Those symbols do not make a person noble. Nobility comes from within. "Noble implies a loftiness of character or spirit that scorns the petty, mean, base, or dishonorable: a noble deed."

If ever I were going to tattoo something on my body -- I think it would be a reminder. "Noble." A one-word nudge to not just live, but to live so that someday someone might come to associate the word 'noble' with my name. It is a word that loses its meaning when describing oneself as noble.

Noble should be spelled with an 'i' in it for a major component, I think, of the term is 'integrity.' But 'ethics' works well, too. The dictionary has such a lovely list of synonyms I just had to list them here:

august, beneficent, benevolent, benign, bounteous, brilliant, charitable, courtly, cultivated, dignified, distinguished, elevated, eminent, extraordinary, first-rate, generous, gracious, grand, great-hearted, high-minded, honorable, humane, imposing, impressive, liberal, lofty, magnanimous, magnificent, meritorious, preeminent, refined, remarkable, reputable, splendid, stately, sublime, supreme, sympathetic, tolerant, upright, virtuous, worthy....

People remark "oh if there was only someone who would ...." or 'if only there were more good people in the world who do....." "We need visionaries; leaders; right-minded thinkers...."

Maybe the lack of doers, thinkers, good people and visionaries is because we have lost our way and we are playing defense, rather than offense in this game of life....

First Lines: It was the best of 'lines,' it was the worst of 'lines'.

2010-07-21T12:00:00.000-04:00

When you first meet someone, or even less than meet --encounter-- a stranger, what do they tell you?

Sure the first words are usually, "Hi!" or "Hello" or if it is customer service, "May I help you?" Although I find less and less that customer service has anything to do with helping me and more about helping the service they represent, but that's another story.

Driving home today along our quiet little residential street, I 'encountered' a man on a bicycle. What did he tell me? Without an opportunity for conversation -- me in my van, he on his bicycle -- he told me quite a bit. I recognized him as a neighbor who seemed to have few boundaries. This was the man who decided to comandeer my garbarge bin, fill it with his own assorted cans of paint and other disallowed hazardous materials and set it out to the curb in front of MY house. Luckily we caught his duplicity and unloaded the contraband near his own trash can. My tight smile as greeting today probably told him that I hadn't forgotten the incident. The fact that I waved (half heartedly) and he acknowledged it and me with a nod, tells me that we are not enemies -- yet.

His shiny silver metalic sweat suit told me that he was attempting (again) to lose weight and his dark locks (not a gray hair in sight) gave me the idea that perhaps there was a new 'love' in his life or someone he wished to 'love.' His ear buds and the dangling wires told that he was not in the mood for conversation with anyone.

The opening line of a book should be as informative as a brief encounter. It should invite you to want to know more, unlike my neighbor. Often the first line introduces something you have in common, or a common event. People you meet at an accident often establish a bond immediately. Or standing in a checkout line and you overhear a conversation that has you itching to join in. Or you see a couple in a doctor's office and read by their body language just how serious the visit is and you feel their pain.

At the least, the novel's opening should prepare the reader for what is to come.

Finding the right opening line is alot like Goldilocks and the Three Bears. One may be too big, too small, or just right. In the book "Tom Sawyer in Hell" by Peter Black he writes: "I had it made."

Too short. Do you really care why he thinks he had it made? After the second sentence do you feel invited in or are you already tossing the book aside? "I graduated from a competitve science/math high school, aced the PSATs, SATs, and had an A- cumulative average." What may possibly make you read further is the strange title of "Tom Sawyer in Hell." Yet that opening does not sound like any Tom Sawyer Mark Twain ever knew.

But then, you might argue, short can work. The shortest line of scripture springs to mind: "Jesus wept." Yeah, even if it is Jessica or Morris or Satan who wept, I want to know why, what caused the tears, what's the story?

In Roslyn Paterson's novel "Overtures" she writes: "Fiona walked out of the bustling train station in West Berlin and scanned around her for the signs directing her to Checkpoint Charlie, the portal into another world, and another time, which was Communist East Germany."

Too long. She gives us information. Who, what, where, and maybe a little glimpse of 'time travel.' But does it invite you in? She also demonstrated that she could use another edit for tighter writing. The setting is somewhat intriguing. The second line tells a rather mundane description of her holding her passport and standing in line. I'm not curious, are you? And yes, yes, too long can work. So why isn't this one working?

What about: "I am old now and have not much to fear from the anger of gods."

Ahhhhh. Just right. I want to read the next line. It is a negative. Writing instructors include in their long lists of dos and don'ts that one should not write in the negative. It is harder to understand. The author must have missed class that day.

"I have no husband nor child, nor hardly a friend, through whom they can hurt me."

I am not one who chooses to read about gods, myths, sorry old women, yet I am almost unwillingly reading on. There's a mystery in these few lines. There is a person who draws me in to hear her story. Have you ever seen a face and immediately thought, "What a life they must have had!" This old woman is giving me that kind of thought. Just let me read another line or two.... But this author is a pretty crafty fisherman. He's setting the hook deeper and deeper. By the second paragraph, I'm hooked and he's reeled me in. "Being, for all these reasons, free from fear, I will write in this book what no one who has happiness would dare to write."

I picked the books at random. The third book is a novel by C.S. Lewis. "Till We Have Faces: A Myth Retold." It is first person, so maybe that makes the opening stronger than Paterson's novel which is third person or omniscent. Yet, Black's book is first person. So point of view doesn't seem to be the point of strength for C.S. Lewis's opening. He's painting a character we may recognize, even relate to, but yet, out of the norm. She has a story I want to hear or at least I think I want to hear more.

What if the first line doesn't introduce a person? What if it goes on for a couple pages, several pages, and doesn't formerly introduce the character. Would you read it? Would it work? Why? Perhaps the place is a character?

First line: "Jail is not as bad as you might imagine."

Do you want to read the second sentence?

I do.

"When I say jail, I don't mean prison."

This requires clarification, so we really must read the third sentence, which leads to the fourth, which leads you to wonder who is telling us this and why and why are they so obsessed about jails? Another good fisherman. The hook is set. This comes from Anna Quindlen's novel, "One True Thing."

When writing for a daily deadline at a newspaper, I found that the part that took the longest was the opening hook. Often we'd write the rest of the article and realize that the last line was actually the first line -- the words that would draw the reader in and cause them to continue reading.

Let me return to Mr. Black's book. Remember the short first sentence he wrote: "I had it made." I flip to the last page (before the Epilogue) and read the last line. "Looking at the river is peaceful, and the reflections on the water are like the reflections on my life." Ehhh well, a little melodramatic and perhaps you've seen that before in some navel gazing overwritten book.

I look over the paragraph and find his opening. This would draw me in. "Nobody wants to help you unless there is someting in it for them."

I want to know how this person came to such a negative outlook and at the same time I realize that I have that same thought surfacing in my own brain now and then. I can identify with the thought and at the same time I am curious as to who this person is. And I really want to hear the story that involves this attitude.

Not only do opening sentences draw in the reader. They set the tone of the book -- not only for the reader, but for the writer. If that first sentence doesn't work, the writer has not found his or her story, yet. Often it takes alot of prewriting, rewriting, screaming and crying, and desperate days to find that first sentence.

Here are a few more firsts for you to decide for yourself whether they work or not:

1. "Forgive me my denomination and my town; I am a Christian minister, and an American."

[A Month of Sundays, by John Updike] How often do you see a novel begin with an apology?

2. "Shoot, birthdays, they ain't no big deal."

[Lyin Like a Dog, by R. Harper Mason]

3. "It happened every year, was almost a ritual."

[The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, by Stieg Larsson]

4. "The housekeeper is ironing and I am lying on the floor beside her, trying to secretly look up her dress."

[Joy School, by Elizabeth Berg]

Each opening sentence has just enough there to grab you and just enough missing to keep hold of you. And that, I think, is the secret of novel writing -- well, at least writing the first sentence. But remember, by the time you find that perfect first sentence -- you have probably already written the book at least once to find it. Once you've found it, now you can 'rewrite' the book, making it what you were meant to write all along!

Fearful isn't Living

2010-06-13T08:39:00.001-04:00

You will be relieved to know that I finally finished the review of "Stuff" and am stepping away from my obsession with the obsession of hoarding.

Before I put the book on the shelf, I managed to de-clutter my office. That is to say, I moved the containers of papers that need to be looked at and properly filed. I moved them into the guest room.

I like a room without clutter which is why eventually the guest room will get cleaned as well and the filing done. Oh and I actually threw away quite a few items that had just been sitting around gathering dust.

This concern with things seems to stem from fear. Norman Vincent Peale said, "Fear can infect us early in life until eventually it cuts a deep groove of apprehension in all our thinking. To counteract it, let faith, hope and courage enter your thinking. Fear is strong, but faith is stronger yet."

He's right you know. Fears we learn as children or adolescents can color our world for a lifetime. My parents are good examples of the work of fear. They came of age during The Great Depression and experienced the loss of any and all security. My father's family were impoverished to begin with. His father worked building oil rigs. He was a master carpenter, but then someone invented metal derricks and he was out of a job. The boys started working as mere toddlers. Dad was shining shoes at the age of four with his older brothers. As he grew the jobs changed. He sold newspapers on street corners and biked around town delivering telegrams in all kinds of weather. He understood how precious everything was. His Christmas -- if it was a good year -- was an orange and new underwear or socks or maybe gloves. I hadn't realized that poverty had left a mark on him until after I had left home and happened upon an article about the effects of malnutrition.

Dad's front teeth looked strong enough, but there was a groove that ran horizontally across them. It is the result of malnourishment when he was a child. Dad would never have told us that and maybe like most children, he just thought that the way he lived was the way every one lived. But Dad would always dislike Christmas and the pile of presents under the tree. He also never wanted to amass things; but rather invest in a secure life and independence.

Mom lived on a farm so they grew their own food. They were not malnourished, but they couldn't buy anything. No new clothes or shoes. She'd find a dime now and then and go with friends to the movies -- an escape for sure. Compared to Dad she had an easy time during the Great Depression. At least until her father lost his farm to the Insurance Company/Bank/Mortgage lender. It was the beginning of the end for her father. He was a broken and angry man after that. So, fear formed my parents, Mom more than Dad. He learned to survive and he had brothers and sisters to share the situation. They were all in it together. Mom was alone with her parents in a position where she was powerless to do anything other than domestic chores.

She raised her children with this fear of loss. The fear to try something. Her father had placed a mortgage on their farm in good times so he could fix it up, make their home more beautiful and comfortable. He lost everything.

There are other fears that may seem harmless, but will leave lasting scars. Children can do such harm --playmates, siblings. Behaviors can be shrugged off as 'child's play' or 'boys will be boys' or 'sticks and stones.' Recently a conversation turned from soccer matches to sports related traumas. One woman pointed out that the kids quickly learned that she was an easy target in dodge ball. She still remembered the humiliation. Another remembered a track experience. Jumping hurdles, falling, getting up, falling, falling, falling. Public humiliation at its finest.

Sometimes siblings are the worst. You love even adore them and they take advantage of that love. One woman recalls how her brother took advantage of her trust. It seems that every woman has a story of sexual assault by someone she knew or trusted. Some learn to deal with it. Some never do. But they all remember the incident. It colors their lives.

Fears guide our decisiona and choices. Ever wonder what you would do if you were fearless? The question was posed to a group of fabric artists. Some said 'sky diving' and 'rock climbing.' Others mentioned travel. This woman who had been sexually abused as a child added, "Love unconditionally."

Looking back on one's life quickly points out how short our lives truly are. Letting fear rob us of what little time we have seems like an unspeakable crime. We can't always protect that little vulnerable self that sits at the center of our being and shivers in fear. There comes a time when we must nudge her out into the light and encourage her to take those first steps toward growth and actualization. Who is the real you? Shrug off that cloak of fear and see who you were created to be. No fear.

What would I do if I had no fear? I have this fear of failure and this fear of success....without those, I'd jettison that self censor and write my book. Write my books! I listen to authors who have actually written a novel. They have found their voices. Fear no longer silences or stifles them.

What about you?

NO FEAR!

Stuff...I AM NOT A COMPULSIVE HOARDER!

2010-06-05T10:56:00.001-04:00

I'm reading a book titled "Stuff: Compuslive Hoarding and the Meaning of Things" by Randy O. Frost and Gail Steketee. It is an assignment from The Internet Review of Books site. I am to review it for an upcoming issue. Actually, my deadline has passed. But I have reasons for not meeting it....

It is a difficult book for me to read. I can't read it in the family room because my eyes keep wandering. I will read a sentence such as "possessions become part of an individual's sense of self...." Next thing I know I'm staring at the overstuffed bookshelves lining the wall of my family room and my thoughts turn to the boxes full of books that can't be displayed because I have no more shelves. Do I think to get rid of the books? God no!

I try to figure out how to slip the cost of more bookshelves into the family budget.

I definitely can't read this book in the craft room, affectionally called the 'crap' room. [Note: photo above of just one tiny portion of the room. Everything stays, except the cat can come and go at will.]

I'd never get through the book's descriptions of 'stacks of boxes' or 'amazing junk.' Anyone who accumulates odds and ends to use in their multi-media or mixed media or eco-friendly art or craft will feel the pinch as I did when I read "Irene put pieces of broken toys, packing material, and the like in a box she labeled AMAZING JUNK." The difference between my multi-media artist friends and me -- they actually make something out of the 'junk' -- I am still in the accumulation phase.

If I read this book in the kitchen, I am reminded that I really should clean out the cupboards. The bathrooms -- I can read there. But then I realize it has been too long since I gave it a thorough cleaning. Reading in the dining room makes me aware of another problem I have: nibbling. Reading and nibbling go together like Abbot and Costello. Can't have one without the other, especially in the dining room. I'm running out of rooms. The bedrooms are adjacent to closets -- also in need of good cleanings -- and full of who knows what stuff. Weren't closets designed to hold 'stuff' that you don't want anyone to see? The clutter you pick up when preparing for guests?

Yesterday I finally cleaned the screened in porch. Vacuuming away the cat hair, washing down the grill. Rearranging furniture and reacquainting my potted plants with the sunshine out there. A clean little oasis. Other than the 90 degree temperature and the 100 percent humidity, a perfect place to read about Stuff.

I may not meet deadline for this review.

Who knew it would be so difficult to read about stuff and compulsive accumulation and shopping.... did I mention that the Discover card bill arrived in the mail yesterday? But really now. I haven't purchased new clothes in years and it has been even longer since I fed my fabric stash. So those were all necessary purchases.... I still need new shoes. Imeda Marcos (who apparently had the compulsive buying aspect of the compulsive hoarding disease) I am not! One pair of dress shoes (at least 10 years old) and one pair of sneakers at least 2 years old does not make for a hoard. Thankfully there is something I show control over. Anyway, fabric is NOT 'stuff' it is art, beauty, -- potential.

But, just in case, I'm backing away from online shopping....

Another aspect of this hoarding compulsion seems to stem from low self esteem and perfectionism. And that may explain why I have the parts, pieces, tools and books that tell me how to make something out of all of the accumulated fabrics and embellishments. And why I never seem to get around to making or finishing the projects. I feel the need of a psychiatrist or therapist to get me straightened out. But the expense of the treatment....

Perhaps the cure is to simply stop reading this damn book! I think I feel better already. Of course, I won't throw it away or give it away. I will find a tight little space on my overstuffed bookshelves and cram it in with the rest of the books I should read.....

June and all of its baggage

2010-06-01T07:30:00.003-04:00

It is the first day of June. In Florida, that means the first day of hurricane season. For many it is the first day of summer vacation. I can always tell when summer has arrived with the blooming of the first dandelions. It seems appropriate they would bloom today, for it is the anniversary of my father's death.

He had a love-hate relationship with dandelions. Everyday since he retired he would be out in the yard with a tool he made from an old hoe. He had shaped the end to fit around a dandelion plant so that when he thrust it into the ground it would wedge the root between the prongs and he could flip the dandelion out of the ground. It would most of the time just break off the tap root, so the dandelion would simply grow a new top, but Dad took great satisfaction in the pile of plants and leaves he threw on the compost pile at the end of each day. He would mow, hoping to clip off the flowers before they went to seed. Sometimes he mowed every other day. Some might think he was obsessed. I will always see him grinning up at me from the middle of his lawn, holding aloft a particularly healthy specimen. He fashioned similar but smaller tools for my two sons who took pleasure in helping Grandpa fight the flowers.

June 1 is the day Dad officially stopped breathing and was 'declared' dead. But the man who was my father had begun to disappear more than a decade before that final June day.

He was diagnosed with dementia or Alzheimer's Disease. They couldn't say definately which, but he followed the same path of far too many of our loved ones. One day he was driving his car, taking Mom and I out to lunch -- something he adored doing since his retirement. He stopped at an intersection and turned to Mom. "I don't know which way to go."

Today I want to shout "Don't go that way!" It was as if he had reached a point where he must shift directions from the strong, take charge, angry man who made me feel totally secure and protected to someone lost in a fog and totally dependent upon strangers.

Mom put the gear shift into park and she and Dad did one of those Chinese fire drills. I looked on in silence. We went out to lunch and he seemed subdued but okay. Mom drove home. He never drove the car again. His world soon shrank to the inside of their home. He would sit in the front room watching TV, think of something he needed in the kitchen at the back of the house. By the time he walked to the half-way point, he had forgotten what it was he needed or where he was going. We tried to laugh things off. He would answer the telephone when it rang, talk to the person calling, chatting away in the inane way people do. The moment he hung up, it was as if it never happened. Mom would ask, "Who called?" He would turn those confused eyes in her direction and ask, "Called?"

My young sons who had worshipped their grandpa were the most confused and frightened. We tried to help them understand that it was a disease, but they wanted their grandpa back. I wanted me father. Mom wanted a husband who didn't think she was his mother or worse yet, think she was keeping him from the people he loved.

But it has been a couple decades since that June day. I try to see instead the burly man who worked in the anealer room at the local steel mill. The man who loved Phil Silvers television show and dreaded Christmas. The man who had beamed with pride whenever he saw me and my two sons and who quickly accepted my husband as another son. I wonder at times how our lives might have been different if he had not wandered off down that dark and foggy path to dementia. Would my sons have learned important man lessons from him? Would he have taken pleasure in his retirement with my mother? What I do know is that even when he was suffering and in pain with the cancer that sneaked in when he wasn't looking, he was there when I needed him most.

He was in the hospital. Asleep I thought. I cried silently by his bed. He had not been my father for several years and didn't know who I was only that he thought I was a nice person. He looked over at me and said, "Don't worry, it will be alright." For that lucid moment he was Dad. I told him that I missed him so much. I wanted him back. He held my hand and smiled a tired smile. As he patted my hand, he disappeared back into his fog. It wasn't enough. It wasn't nearly enough. But it would have to do. He was still in there somewhere and on rare occasions he would find a way to peek out at us. I'd see a flash of him peering out of his eyes and he'd start to say something, but it would pass too quickly for words.

So, June first is a bittersweet day for me. Perhaps as you work in your lawn, eradicating a few dandelions, you'll think of my dad.

Benjamin Franklin Stump.

For those of you who enjoy fabric art, or like to create fabric art, the AAQI auction is open from now through the 10th. Proceeds go to fund research to find a cure for Alzheimer's Disease. Maybe if we can cure Dad's disease, the research will lead to a cure for my husband's disease -- ALS.

Monday is a good deed day

2010-05-17T09:21:00.000-04:00

It is Monday. Here in Florida it is a rainy Monday. A much needed rain. It may be the perfect day to do something unexpectedly nice for someone.

A fellow quilter mentioned that she saw some children sitting on a little ride at the mall. It wasn't running and they didn't have the money to make it operate. She drew a couple dollars from her purse, walked over to the ride and inserted the money. Then she stood back and enjoyed their smiles and laughter for a few minutes before continuing her day. She explain her action away with "its because I don't have any grandchildren...."

What did her two dollars buy her? Smiles and laughter. A moment of childish delight. A feeling of stepping outside her day and doing something sponateous. And perhaps the priceless gift of passing on an act of generosity that the children will emulate. She has no idea how far this little act of kindness will travel.

Another quilter mentioned "change your thoughts; you change the world." Not just that 'I think I can' attitude, but also the way one looks at the same thing day after day. Instead of looking at the top of the table, get down and look at the underside. Instead of seeing the frown on your neighbor's face, notice his hands -- what do they tell you about him? And what does that motivate you to do?

Make a vow to do something unexpectedly nice today. It can be as simple as a smile or wishing a service provider a good day or simply looking them in the eye and saying a 'from the heart' thank you.

Maybe send a card or letter or email to someone you think about but don't often reach out to.

Maybe cook a special food for your family. Fix Sunday dinner on Monday and gather everyone together for the meal. Or maybe have a carpet picnic.

Donate to a worthy cause.

Visit your neighbor.

Say positive reinforcing things to coworkers.

It doesn't take a Pollyanna attitude to change the world. It could also be something like speaking up against a wrong.

Each good deed brings good back to you. We are all connected in this universe, so send out a few good vibrations into the stratosphere and enjoy the rain! It washes away, renews, stimulates growth, and makes the sunshine even brighter.

Entitlement or Simply Blind

2010-05-13T07:36:00.001-04:00

The Chinese tell of a man of Peiping who dreamed of gold, much gold, his heart's desire. He rose one day and when the sun was high he dressed in his finest garments and went to the crowded market place. He stepped directly to the booth of a gold dealer, snatched a bag full of gold coins, and walked calmly away. The officials who arrested him were puzzled: "Why did you rob the gold dealer in broad daylight?" they asked. "And in the presence of so many people?"

"I did not see any people," the man replied. "I saw only gold." -- Louis Binstock

Do you ever think that this is a tale of the corporate world? I have been traveling daily back and forth from a center where businesses seem to have congregated and formed a little citadel of commerce. Everytime my vehicle gets close to the area, I feel like I have entered an 'entitlement' zone. As if rules that apply to the normal citizen no longer need to be heeded there. The first clue is the way people drive.

I've been driving for a number of years, okay a number of decades, and I can't recall (no it isn't Alzheimers) ever being cut off so often, people changing lanes willy nilly, someone speeding at twice the legal limit weaving in and out of traffic. Speed signs being used as 'only a suggestion.'

And never have I seen so many people stop at stoplights and then just sit there after it turned green. Of course they are chatting on cell phones or doing their makeup or eating their breakfast or reading the newspaper or texting someone, but you'd think they'd notice the traffic moving around them. Get into the parking lots and it is worse. Just trying to make a turn into a parking lot can be life threatening.

Yesterday I wheeled my husband's big green van into a wide turn in order to fit it into the handicap slot that has been assigned him by the front door. No one behind. No one in front. I began my turn and my husband yelled. A red car had turned off of the main road and at killer speed zipped right past me as I'm turning across her path. I slammed on the brakes. My husband was jettisoned out of his wheelchair and landed on his knees between the two front seats. As he knelt there he was the poster child for seat belts.

He had been preparing to get out of the van, who knew someone would feel the need to 'slip past' while I'm parking. We thought the risk was on the road to this little oasis. He was hurt and a bit humiliated and stunned as three volunteers maneuvered him back into his wheelchair. I was angry that such a 'me first' attitude, disregard for others, not to mention stupid unsafe behavior, had caused him such pain.

It seems like just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to entitlement based upon an overwhelming need to get ahead, get more money, get promoted, or simply get away with something.

I recently posted a little saying that seems to take on new meaning every time I venture out into the world.

LOVE PEOPLE AND USE THINGS.

NOT LOVE THINGS AND USE PEOPLE.

I do so miss courtesy, consideration, love of fellow man.... Perhaps that is what was so poignant about the three men who came to rescue my husband. One was head of security, one was a dear friend, and one a stranger with a cast on his foot. They didn't hesitate to assess the situation, show a little sympathy, and then set to work to right the wrong. They all cared about giving comfort, making sure no one was harmed, wounded, or uncomfortable. All three wanted nothing more than to help. The help continued as we found a first aid kit and I bandaged the gash on my husband's leg. And people were considerate of him and his feelings, letting him regain his composure and get on with his day.

I still wonder about that woman who found her path so much more important that she put us all in harms way. She even had a choice to not come down that aisle. She could have seen us blocking her path and turned. Instead she made the choice to push her way through. Thoughtless? Clueless? Stupid? Unthinking? I don't know what to attribute her actions to. She may think nothing happened, no big deal. Maybe she went on with her day feeling entitled to what she had done. She got away with it. She wasn't held responsible. Forced to face the consequences of her actions....

But the action I took to avoid collision with her, since I was clearly the only one who could avoid the collision, caused me to harm my husband. Caused me to put on the brakes and throw him to the floor. Caused him to bleed.

I drive a big BIG green van and on the way home I envisioned that scene from the movie Fried Green Tomatoes where the Kathy Bates character rams the hell out of the two sweet young things in a VW with her bigger heavier car. All I could think was how satisfying it would be to be empowered and take matters into my own hands and stop following laws and being courteous and caring about others. It is such an inviting thought.

But then I realized -- I would be just like that woman in the red car. That is NOT someone I ever want to be.

For more about wheelchair safety visit http://thetravelingwheelchair.com/bus-seat-belt-laws-mostly-exclude-wheelchairs-by-john-seewer-ap/ and http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2010/05/10/AR2010051002834.html or go to my blog list and click on The Traveling Wheelchair blog and then scroll down to the appropriate story on his site.

Entering the Dark Ages: More Funding Cuts for the Arts

2010-04-24T15:46:00.000-04:00

On April 14, Georgia legislature contemplated not funding the Georgia Council for the Arts. In essence, Georgia would be the only state without funds for the arts. It is still undecided as of this writing.

No funding for creativity. No encouragement to express oneself, experiment in various mediums, no art for government buildings, no budding artists programs.

But why should this be any different? Education funding has been cut and the curriculum dumbed down. Library budgets are non-existent and commissioners who determine those funding amounts are saying things like, "libraries are a waste of money. Everyone watches TV. I don't like to read, never been inside of a library and look at me...." The last sentence was said to me by our local county commissioner and it was all I could do not to laugh and say, "Well, you are our poster child for what happens when one doesn't read."

No vision. No wisdom. Very little knowledge. And so set in the past that he can't see past yesterday!

Free thinking seems to be a form of anarchy. Look at this explosion of tea party activists who are simply people afraid of change. Afraid of the light since they've lived in the dark for so long. Afraid of tomorrow. They are not looking to the future, they are clinging to the past.

Have we reached that point where we have so many comforts that we can no longer take a risk, watch and wait and see what happens? Why does the immediate reaction to any change have to be hysterical denial and name calling and death threats and labeling and words like 'undemocratic' and 'traitor' and worse....

I remember growing up in a time when tomorrow was bright and full of experimentation. OK, I'm a product of the 60s, and no the experimentation I was thinking about wasn't drugs or free love. I was thinking of the space race. The space exploration, the call for people who could not only build a space craft, but could also envision what to do with it. Where have all of those men and women gone? Is that why our space program is doomed to extinction? All of the visionaries are retired or dead? Who is rising up to take their places?

Most recently our experience has been in the healthcare field as my husband battles a rare disease. When in a hospital, rare is not good. No one seems able or willing to veer out of the normal protocols or to look at the patient instead of the monitors. His breathing problem is muscular not cellular, yet they treated him as if his lungs were diseased. They are healthy. Not the problem. It took a frantic wife with a whole lot to lose to convince them otherwise. It took persistence and tears; anger, yelling, begging, pleading, demanding, and finally my husband rising up out of his bed and refusing treatment.

Maybe that is what reasonable people must start doing before the opportunity for change is lost. We can begin in our own homes, teaching our children what isn't being taught in the schools. We can teach our children problem solving skills, step-by-step processes to get from point a to point z. How to 'see' something that is not conceived. How to turn an idea into reality.

And you know the very best ways to teach children these things? Yeah, you probably guessed it: ART!

Math and music go together. Teach a child music, and his math skills will improve. Fact.
Art and spacial skills improve. Hand-eye coordination grows more adept. Verbal skills and reading skills improve as children are encouraged to use their imagination and express themselves. A picture may be worth a thousand words, but usually within those pictures, the budding artist feels the need to use words for further expression. Sewing improves just about every aspect of life, and makes it possible for a child to make things for himself whether utilitarian or strictly ornamental or a bit of both. Cooking -- self preservation and self care as well as math skills, science, nature, and a bit of nurture as an added sprinkle on top.

Georgia produced some of the finest writers in America. Is there no pride left? No hope of producing more Erskin Caldwells, Pat Conroys, W.E.B. DuBois, Carson McCullers, Flannery O'Connors or Margaret Mitchells? (Just to name a very few from a long list.) Or artists? Or visionaries?

Perhaps if those legislators had spent more time working on creative projects, they could be more visionary leaders, finding ways to balance budgets and grow their states, meet their citizens needs. Instead they resort to cutting off funding, depriving their citizens, and then running for re-election on their lack of vision by saying, "We closed libraries, cut funding to the arts, and dumbed down schools. But, we balanced the budget...."

I do so miss people who can reason and think, solve problems and see risks as opportunities.

Dream BIG! Then Make It Happen!

2010-04-20T12:12:00.000-04:00

Today I made a little tiny comment on my Subversive Stitchers: Women Armed with Needles facebook page. I simply wrote: I should be in Paducah!

The tiny, shriveled, pessimistic, Scrooge-pre-epiphany side of my brain said, "You? You'll never get there. You'll never have anything accepted into the show. And you certainly will never have a book to sign or sell at any quilt show."

This is how I talk to myself. I wouldn't treat anyone that ruthlessly and negatively -- but I do it to myself whenever an opportunity knocks.

In contrast, an art quilter told about a midnight epiphany she had concerning some African batiks that she had purchased and been unable to find the right project in which to use them. Instead of talking herself out of it, she arose from her bed, went to her design wall and got to work. Her middle-of-the night project looked good by daylight, too. She continued to work on it, following her inspiration until she now has a series of four art quilts, one already finished and entered in a contest.

This isn't her first successful quilt project. But perhaps it explains how she comes about achieving these successes. She values her muse. She values her 'what if' inspirations. She trusts herself enough to put actions to those thoughts. And she follows through to complete the projects.

Sometimes I daydream of winning a best of show at the Houston Quilt Show and selling my best selling book while I'm there. In my dreams it seems like such a possibility. Of course if I do nothing. Nothing will come of it. But if I work my way toward that goal -- make little projects to hone my sewing skills and techniques. Pay attention to what others in the quilt/fabric art world are doing. Watch what is winning. Find my own voice in the cloth and trust it -- it could happen. It will take time and effort and trial and error and yet, if I do nothing I am guaranteed failure.

When Carol Soderlund started working on her best of show quilt, she couldn't find the fabrics she needed to make what she envisioned. (See photo: Covenant.)

Did she give up? Whine? Well, maybe a little.

But then she bought some white fabric, some dyes and began making what she needed. Her quilt went on to win Best of Show in Houston. She went on to teach one of the very best cloth dyeing workshops in the nation, maybe the world. And she continues to make award winning quilts.

What about my best selling book? The same goes for the book. If I just think about it and do nothing. I'm guaranteed failure. What's that scripture? Faith without works....

We dream too small. Lately I've just wanted to get through each day. Fulfill the current deadlines. And keep my husband's health in check. I'm dreaming way too small. I see women traveling the globe, sharing their art, teaching their craft, gathering awards for the works they made. Works that originated in their brains and made with their own hands.

Why is that not a possibility for me, too? Why have I spent my life saying, "I can't."

What will I lose today if I begin to say, "I can!"

Maybe that is one of the benefits of being the age I am. Failure pales in comparison with a life unlived. And I don't have that many more years to turn my act around. So those day dreams and what ifs are going to the top of my to do list. And words such as "can't," or "don't be silly," or "you aren't good enough" are excommunicated from my vocabulary.

Oh, and in response to my little mention on the facebook -- several responses. One that said, "I'll start saving today...." Little steps. One at a time lead to that goal, that success that seemed unattainable.

Once I thought I would never be published. Once I thought no one would ever see my writing as valuable. Once I thought I could never earn a living at writing.

I was wrong. Those goals have been met and exceeded. So what's stopping me now?

Action. That's what it takes! ACTION!

Brains on Books

2010-04-04T08:46:00.002-04:00

As a woman, wife, mother, daughter, homemaker, writer, business woman, chauffer, cat caretaker I never seem to have enough hours in the day to get everything done. Even with reading and reviewing books as part of my work load, I feel guilty sitting down to read. No multi-tasking, just sitting and reading. Seems decadent, especially when the long list of chores remains undone.

But then I read an article in the New York Times about scientists studying the brain and what happens to it while people read. They approached the subject from both directions. The brain on books, so to speak, by watching it via MRI while someone is actually reading. And another group of scientists look at how books influence thought. “It’s not that evolution gives us insight into fiction,” Mr. Flesch said, “but that fiction gives us insight into evolution.”

He went on to conclude:

"Fictional accounts help explain how altruism evolved despite our selfish genes. Fictional heroes are what he calls “altruistic punishers,” people who right wrongs even if they personally have nothing to gain. “To give us an incentive to monitor and ensure cooperation, nature endows us with a pleasing sense of outrage” at cheaters, and delight when they are punished, Mr. Flesch argues. We enjoy fiction because it is teeming with altruistic punishers: Odysseus, Don Quixote, Hamlet, Hercule Poirot."

Perhaps a childhood spent at the library or reading in my room explains why I view the world in a much different way than my extended family. I've often wondered how we can be so totally different in our perspective of the world. Maybe reading has made the difference. I've come to realize that books greatly influence my mood. If I'm reading something dark and foreboding, depressing or tragic, I carry that with me. My life is colored, darkened. The world is more frightening. I fight with my husband....

But if I'm reading about someone who has found success, happiness, love, made right choices, saved a life even their own, I see potential and optimism and goodness at every turn. It carries over into movies and television, too. Right now I am obsessed with the series, The Closer.

It stars Kyra Sedgewick (Kevin Bacon's wife) and an ensemble of great, individual characters. I look at the various personalities brought together in each show and marvel at how well the writers defined the characters and gave them quirks and tics that in themselves made them unique. The program solves a murder with each show. Death and dying and torture and violence are their daily lot, but what I like about the program is the problem solving, the way the character draws from daily life, unrelated events and finds solutions. It fits well into my interest in synchronicity.

I'm also delighted in the quirky, almost autistic, personality of the main character: Brenda Leigh Johnson. The creator of this character took an only child raised by a charming southern belle who holds a black belt in manipulation and a controlling, but adoring father -- a military man. They traveled as military families travel from base to base and assignment to assignment. This child, very intelligent, learned lessons well from both parents and her life situation and uses them to bully her way past every impediment to the goal of closing her case. She's flawed. She is devoted to her parents, but sees no conflict between loving them and manipulating them for her own gain. Same with the love interest in the series.

Anyway, while watching the Closer, I see a role model of a successful, devious, loveable, frustrating, problem solving woman who leads a group of mostly men who have come to respect and like her. They are loyal to her. No, not in a sexual way at all at all. About as close to sex as she and her group get is that one detective remarks, "I'd recognize those legs anywhere...."

Brenda Leigh Johnson -- don't you love what that name says about the character?

She uses every trick at her disposal, but we see that the manipulation and deviousness are tools and underneath all of her 'tricks' is a steel will and a woman who will not deviate from her core values or her goal. She does not do anything for personal gain. It is about achieving her goal, not getting rewards, earning money, etc. It is purely altruistic. Good overcoming bad. She could and sometimes does fall off into an unlikeable, self centered character. But she is found out, corrected, made to feel 'just awful.' She never falls away from her pursuit of good. I feel like I am a better person just by spending time with this character.

I'd make a great test subject for these scientists. So maybe a lifetime of reading isn't such a bad life or a waste of time. Books may be mind altering -- better than chocolate as a mood enhancer -- definitely great for one's sex life. Ask any woman how sexy she feels after reading a few of those bodice ripping romances.

Fiction writers serve the greater good. Keep writing!

Trust Your Reader!

2010-03-29T16:24:00.000-04:00

One of the most frequently committed amateur writing errors is to TELL your readers what you want them to take away from your writing. It can occur as the 'show don't tell' rule. Instead of saying "She was frustrated and angrily shouted." Maybe "She stomped her feet, scowled and leaned forward into his face then bellowed, spit flying everywhere...."

I like allowing my readers to see the actions and feel the emotions that rise from those actions.

But sometimes I enjoy a lovely story and I don't care if there is telling or showing. I received a touching story today. My cousin fears her life will end if she doesn't pass on everything that says 'pass it on.' So I get lots of emails that have been circulating through cyberspace. Today it was the Shay Story. The father is a speaker at a school fundraiser and tells about his son who suffered disabilities.

The father said, 'I believe that when a child like Shay, who was mentally and physically disabled comes into the world, an opportunity to realize true human nature presents itself, and it comes in the way other people treat that child.'

It can be interpreted many ways. Some may see it as degrading to children or even adults for that matter, who live each day with courage and perseverence and with disabilities. I thought it a bit melodramatic and dripping with too much description. The author didn't quite trust his audience to get it, so he poured on every trick to manipulate.

And then the real turnoff. The chain mail threat and guilt message. Another blog reacted the same way I did. And she included the whole message. I try not to copy other people's writing without permission and I don't really know who to ask permission for this message.

Anyway, I was thinking of forwarding the message. But the author didn't trust his audience enough. So he threw in this: "AND NOW A LITTLE FOOT NOTE TO THIS STORY: We all send thousands of jokes through the e-mail without a second thought, but when it comes to sending messages about life choices, people hesitate. The crude, vulgar, and often obscene pass freely through cyberspace, but public discussion about decency is too often suppressed in our schools and workplaces. If you're thinking about forwarding this message, chances are that you're probably sorting out the people in your address book who aren't the 'appropriate' ones to receive this type of message...."

My first reaction was to think: "Who does this person think they are? They don't know me? Or they would not be threatening me or assuming things about me that are incorrect...." I thought a few more unkind thoughts and reached to hit delete. Then I decided to write this blog.

Writers can learn alot from this Shay email. Just write your story. The deeper the emotion, the simpler the delivery should be. Don't pound it in. Be gentle. Don't tell a reader how to interpret it, write well enough that they'll get it and then give them room to enjoy, experience, digest what you've written.

I may not remember the Shay story, but I will still feel the disgust and anger over the stupid message at the end. Who are we to assume what others think, feel, do, or who they are!? Just write your story. Let the readers do the rest.

And do you ever wonder if any of these chain mail messages are for real? Well, this site evidently has checked out the Shay message and have a few interesting tidbits to add.

Writers! Stop writing CRAP!

2010-03-12T22:44:00.000-05:00

We're watching television. The Ford Focus commercial comes on and the female driver says something about how she doesn't go to the gas station so much. It saves her time. Maybe money, too. So now she thinks maybe she has time/money to do something for the kids or get a manicure. End of commercial.

I'm left with this horrible feeling that the world has just seen a representative of the female American population as a superficial non-contributing member of the global network. She things of shopping and manicures?

Why does this bother me?

That concept began with a wordsmith, a writer. Who writes the screen play or script? A writer.

Why choose a woman perfectly dressed, every hair in place, flawless makeup. Trendy jewelry. Why not someone who gets her hands dirty? Why not someone who is busy living her life and now she has more time for the important things in life -- taking her neighbor to the cancer center for a treatment or delivering gifts to the church members at the nursing home. Or maybe bringing materials to the local school for an in-school art day where she's the visiting artist.

Why is it some Stepford Wife type of female that is the image in a Ford Focus?

Where is the imagination that made our country great? Where is the imagination and the guts to portray people doing vital or moral or civic responsible things? No wonder people just sit around and wait for someone else to take care of the world. They don't see role models. They do not see HOW others might possibly do things they never considered.

No, the woman didn't need to be conquering Mount Everest. But she could have been contributing something besides money at the mall or the beauty center. Do we really think that all we can contribute to this world is consumerism?

Where are the writers who can promote world peace in a Pepsi commercial? Or why don't we see a photo on TV like this one above from Gandhinagar, India: Women from the Jain community attend prayers for world peace.

Look at the women's hands in the photo -- do we care if they have a manicure or not? What do their hands express? I want to know.

Isn't it more inspiring than the manicured shot of a manicure and a high heel shoe -- what symbolizes female as useless beauty as this last photo?

Writers need to change the message. NOW!

Connect and Reconnect and keep swatting away those Gnats

2010-02-28T09:51:00.002-05:00

The voice message light blinked on my phone in the dark of my bedroom. I had just entered, dropping off the bags of ephemera that my husband accumulated during his almost two week stay in the intensive care unit of the hospital. He was weak, he was battered, but he was HOME!

My body stiffened and I tightened my jaw. Would it be yet another phone call from his officious manager where he had been working full time until this medical crisis?

I couldn't stand her insincerity, her obvious joy at an opportunity to remove an employee with disabilities from her roster. I wanted to fit my hands around her throat and squeeze. If I heard her voice I knew I would throw the phone against the wall and maybe pound my head a bit, too.

But then, it could just as easily be a worried family member from back home. So I pushed the play button and stood uneasily waiting to hear the voice.

An unfamiliar voice.

It sounded friendly and definitely not that whining voice of his manager. We call her The Gnat always darting into people's faces, annoying, keeping them from work, complicating every process, infuriating with her touch and random acts of frustrating interaction.

Yet wait, I've heard this voice. I recognized the New England accent. And then she gave her name and said, "I hope you remember me...."

I did! We had had such a great working relationship -- editor and writer -- while she and another talented editor ran one of my favorite writing markets. I knew that the two had been forced out of a magazine after they had built it to a well respected publication. Now some member of the same sisterhood to which The Gnat belonged had begun undoing everything they had worked so hard to do. I saw the latest issue and could only feel pain for the loss.

But the voice was saying something about working for another publication and .... what did she say?

I rewound the message and played it again. She wants me to write for her again. And she wants me to write the kind of articles I so enjoy. AND she wants me to begin with one of my favorite fabric artists! AND she wants me to pitch ideas that she will happily assign to me and pay me a decent wage.

I sat on the bed and stared at the phone. There isn't much of anything I could think of that would sound better (other than that my husband was cured).

Today I began preparing questions for that first interview. I started by reviewing some of the entries blogged and written online about the artist. One site said she was influenced by Alfonse (sic) Mucha. Well of course I had to find out who that was.

Turns out he is a Czech Art Nouveau painter best known for his images of women. Today there is a museum and foundation named after him and just about anyone who has ever seen any Art Nouveau posters or images, have seen his work.

So why include this trivia tidbit in this blog?

Because I took a look at a timeline that was included on the Foundation's website and realized that Alphonse had his Gnats, too. His father sent him to be trained by the church and found him a job as a church clerk. Makes me think of that adage, "poor as church mice..." But Alphonse had other ideas for his life and applied to the Prague Academy of Fine Arts in 1878. "His application is turned down with the recommendation: "Find yourself another profession where you'll be more useful".

Sounds like not only today's writers receive rejection with a twist of malice and elitist intent. But, he doesn't give up. He travels to another city and becomes a scene painter. When he's let go from that job because their biggest client goes up in flames -- literally -- he moves on and begins painting portraits. There he meets a wealthy man who wants him to decorate his whole castle. And in 1885 he begins studying at the Munich Academy of Art.

I feel a connection to Alphonse. He believed in his doodlings. If he hadn't persevered, believed in himself and his 'need' to paint, he would have frittered away his life in a 'job' rather than follow his calling. He wouldn't have become a famous artist who influenced a whole art movement and a now famous fabric artist, and I would not be writing this article. Of course if I had not believed in myself, taken the steps I have taken with my meager little writing career and had not written that first (now rather pathetic) query to the magazine years ago, I would not be sitting here preparing questions for an assignment that may make up the difference in lost revenue caused by The Gnat and her infernal need to grow her own career.

Notice in this fable that the people who stand in the way of art usually remain nameless and fade away into oblivion. They are the dust that covers the floors in human history.

Also notice that Alphonse did not travel his path alone. There were people who hired him, mentored him, sponsored him, and believed in him. Maybe the Gnats of the world are simply the things that make us stronger so that we can lift our chins, square our shoulders and prepare to fight for our words, our lives, our birthright. Or maybe they are the offsprings of parents who did not chose wisely and accepted the church clerk calling rather than fight for who they truly wanted to be, passing on their frustration and fears to their baby Gnats....

Enough about Gnats. I have a profile to write! And then another. And another.

If your phone isn't ringing, take time to reach out today and say hi to those favorite editors. You never know what they'll reply.

PHOTOS: Alphonse Mucha's Art Nouveau images

I'm a bookless writer, how pathetic!

2010-01-30T09:43:00.000-05:00

Photo: Tracy Cavelli Trussell, Christian book author at a signing in Arizona.

I just read a cute essay in the latest issue of Foreword Magazine about being bookless. Lisa Romeo hit every hot button of being a writer who has not produced a book. It is probably why I always hesitate to describe my work as writing. I'd almost rather say 'housewife' than writer. I expect to be dismissed as a 'housewife.' BORING!

But when I say, "I'm a writer," it opens up a whole line of questioning that I'd rather forego.

"Ohhhh you're a writer? What books have you written?" It is like an inquisition. I need to prove I am a writer. When my husband says, "I'm an accountant." No one asks him for verification. No one asks what accounts he has balanced, what software he's proficient using, or whether he's saved the company millions of dollars. They just accept that he is a professional and unless he's talking to another accountant, the conversation usually stops there. I think maybe 'accountant' is as boring a title as 'housewife.'

But writer. I cringe as soon as the word is out of my mouth. I want to add. "Don't ask me what I write or what I've written. Don't ask me where I get my ideas. If I knew where I got my ideas I would go there more often. Because frankly right now I am idea-less. Not a single thought or gem or nugget. I think about what's for dinner. That's about as creative as I get these days. So I imagine I will remain 'bookless' for quite some time.

For years my husband indulged me. I devoted time to scribbling on pages and he was okay with that. Did he think I was a writer? No. Did he care? No. What he cared about what us being a couple and me being happy. We were, I was.

Then I started making money with my writing. No one could have been more surprised than I was -- unless it was my husband. His view of me changed. Income producing work was a good thing. He bought me a pen. The next year he bought me a computer. And eventually an ergonomically correct chair. I probably earned enough in each of those years to pay for each item. But still no book.

Now my dear husband has come to expect income from my writing. And he has come to accept that I'm not an author. But I made the mistake of having friends who have written books, got six figure advances and he'd like me to do that. I would like that, too.

Is this the year I push past the blockage and just keep writing even if it is crap until I actually have something resembling a book? If so, I might even head to the next class reunion. Nah, let's not get carried away. That would require dieting AND publishing a book.

I hold out hope that my sons will publish. Both have books in the works. Hopefully they will succeed where their mother has failed and instead of facing people and admitting I'm a writer without a book. I can smile and reply, "I'm a mother of an author...."

Books that make you hurl

2010-01-21T12:35:00.000-05:00

Sometimes a book is so bad I want to throw it across the room. In fiction it is usually the amateur writing mistakes or lazy attention to detail or grammar or spelling. The stilted dialogue, the poor descriptions, the characters acting against type or out of character also drive me nuts. Or gratuitous scenes or elements that are there only because the author was not strong enough to kill of his or her darlings.

In nonfiction I tend to start tossing books that don't get it right. A recent read caused me to hurl (the book) when the author solved all of the world's problems in less than 200 pages including global warming, overpopulation AND the ongoing discussion of religion vs science. It was not at all what it was marketed as. It was in fact an old man's rant. An end of life attempt to get his say in while he could still say it. Yes that sounds harsh. I realize I should respect my elders and that some day I'll be where he's sitting. I want to be heard, too. I could have accepted it much better if he would have marketed it as what it was -- a rant!

Today I worked on a book review for a book of fiction where the author got it wrong. She, a perky, lean, blonde of unending enthusiasm wrote about a woman of obese proportions. Or as the author likes to refer to her character and all women of similar body types -- fat women. I keep thinking about (and grinding my teeth) the fight people with disabilities waged and continue to wage to be seen. Can you not see that is a man in that wheelchair? A father? A brother? A person who has been wounded and yet he gets out of bed every day and lives his life just like the rest of us? That is to say 'he lives the best that he can.' So why is this woman any less deserving of being seen despite the layers of fat that envelope her? Why is she first of all fat? Where is her heart? Her pain? Her motivation? The cause and effect of her situation and her image?

Yes, I'm royally pissed at the treatment of this fictional character because the author has chosen to make her inert and unloveable as a fat woman but suddenly transforms her into a loveable, interesting, selfless human being once she loses the weight. Stereotype! Perpetrating a myth to the detriment of all who must live it.

So, what is the author's responsibility to get it right. Should she have researched the causes of morbid obesity? Should she have delved into this character to understand what conspired, even in her childhood, to lead her to the choices that she made? Should the author have done more than talk to a bunch of women and conclude that she knew all she needed to know about the subject? Should she have written a solution to the woman's obesity was simply that she stopped eating? Would she have written a book about an anorexic girl who was saved because she ate more? Rather simplistic.

I'd like to write about alot of topics. But I want to get them right. I want to know everything I possibly can before I create a character and I hope to all the writing gods that I do not ever make such a pathetic one-dimensional character as I just read in this book that I shall not name because I don't want anyone to purchase the book or help this author make money on the backs of every woman of obese proportions!

Maybe painting people as freaks sells books. Maybe that is perfectly all right. But I pray never to be guilty of such a crime. And if I do include an outcast in my book, I intend to understand why she's outside of the norms of society and make sure my readers understand, too.

In all fairness, I will add that this novel does not suffer from the usual hurl-causing deficiencies. It is well crafted. Just not well thought out.

First Rule of Fiction Writing: Be Authentic

2010-01-04T09:48:00.000-05:00

One of the most endearing and perhaps the greatest strength of fiction writer Ann Hite's Black Mountain series is the authentic voices that Ann has given to her characters and narrator. They are so real it is as if they are standing right in front of you. I wanted to shake their hands upon introduction.

As Elizabeth Berg says, "The people who are the most irresistible are those who are most themselves."

We can actually 'feel' when they are not being themselves -- in real life and even on the page. You've met people who made you antsy, made you feel as if you are both sharing a secret and you've just met them. The secret of course is that you both know this person is not what he or she appears to be, or tries to appear to be. Of course this cover-up can make for an interesting plot development as the reader sees their 'persona' slip and eventually the character reveals his true colors.

But if this is not a plot device, then reader and character are both uncomfortable in this shared lie.

Berg says the best thing to do is to write naturally. "Using your own voice, try to think of what you are doing as dictation. Put down onto the paper the words you are hearing in your head -- literally."

For me that means writing in first person. When I begin saying 'he said, she said, and describing scenes with an omniscent voice, the distant widens to a deep chasm dividing me not only from the characters, but from the reader. I even feel isolated and removed from the scene.

Today I rewrote a scene, not a bad scene, but a ho-hum scene from a first person perspective. I chose one of the women in the room as my eyes and ears and let her tell what happened. It surprised me at how stilted some of the descriptions sounded now that I saw the scene through her eyes.

So first step in finding your authentic voice, is finding your narrator. As soon as I could 'see' my narrator, I could put perception, focus, and personality into the scene. It still isn't good.

Now I have fallen into the trap of reportage.

Trust me, anyone who has reviewed very many manuscripts or reviewed books whose authors have paid for the service are familiar with the amateur mistakes. The glaring amateur mistakes. Not so easy to spot is how the writer overcomes this awkward writing. But, just like authenticity, you know it when you see it and can relax and enjoy. Trust builds with an author who writes with 'authority' and 'authenticity.' Maybe that's why we're called: AU-thors!

Writing this bloggy advice, I see that it appears to be leading writers to an attitude of 'be more concerned with each word you write and be careful of reportage and stilted writings and to scrutinize each word placed on the page.'

NOOOOO!

Just the opposite.

Set the editor aside. Forget what everyone has told you about writing and for this first draft, this first romance with the page, just let the words flow. What I do advocate is getting to know your character so well that she speaks through you. As Berg said, "... dictation."

That is my mistake. I sit at my desk looking in through the window at my characters. I can't hear them very well from out here. My focus is distorted by the thick layers of glass between us. I can't use any other senses. I don't smell their perfume or musky odors or bad breath or the scent of the room. I can't taste Alma's homemade cookies or Rita's cherry jam. I need to open the door and move inside. Smile at the room full of women and see how they respond to me.

Getting to know characters may involve writing a long detailed history. Not only the parents' names, but the grandparents, where they were born, raised and which wars they fought in -- personal and militarily. It also means that you know if they are right or left handed, what their birthstone is and if they like having that birthstone. What scars do they have? Inside and out? What makes them stop and admire? Who attracts and repels them?

This also requires putting the editor out with the morning trash. Do NOT. DO NOT invite that editor back in until the first draft is completely written. Send that editor on a trip around the world. And while she's gone write. Write as fast as you can. And while you're writing visit with your characters. Get to know whether they prefer cherry jam to ham sandwiches or what their smile looks like. Get to know who is shy, who is bold, who is angry, who is frightened, who is carrying a heavy burden, keeping a secret, and who is just so happy they could sing.

It isn't only journalists who should be asking who, what, where, when, and why. Every writer, especially fiction writers need to ask. And don't forget how.

Diana Gabaldon (you knew I'd have to insert her in here some way) likes to tell the story of driving her daughter to soccer practice and all the time her mind was on her characters. She sees Jocasta reach for a cut glass goblet and watch her man servant push the glass just an inch so that her fingers close around the glass precisely. It is at that point that Gabaldon has the epiphany that 'Jocasta is blind!' and misses the turn off to soccer practice. Even in her anecdotes about her writing, Gabaldon has great timing and understatement. I admit that some of that was lacking in her latest book -- along with alot of other things I found endearing about her Outlander series. But I digress.

For me, at this moment, writing in first person works. Even if the final version moves back to third person, I will get to know my characters, remove stitled descriptions, and get rid of the barriers between me and the action through my narrator who is now my best bud!

Get Ready for When the Dream Comes True or Have Faith!

2009-12-30T17:52:00.000-05:00

Probably these were your Top 10 Resolutions for 2008, 2007, ...2000, 1991....

Top 10 New Year's Resolutions for Writers:

•Make time to write.

•Overcome writer's block.

•Complete an unfinished work.

•Read more.

•Keep a journal.

•Work on writing space.

•Write a novel.

•Submit work.

•Try a new genre or art form.

•Be easier on yourself.

Get out of the rut. Fantacize more. That should be your resolution!!! Your only resolution. (Note photo of Michelle Pfeiffer and Rupert Friend in a movie based on a Collette short story.)

See yourself. Visualize yourself as this successful writer. The one you WANT TO BE! Then take three steps that brings you closer to that fantasy becoming a reality.

You know -- once upon a time I lived in an old falling down house that was a money pit and constantly needed fixing up. We worked on it, threw money into it, and dreamed of a new house with a pond and and all of the trimmings. The day came when we took the step and turned out dream house into a reality. We sold the money pit, hired a builder, settled on a plan, a budget, a pedestal sink, and a two-acre pond. The house went from fantasy to reality.

Why not with a writing career?

I had a dream the other day that I was traveling to book signings, tracking down research, calling my assistant to deliver more books to my signing, and was writing, really writing something I was proud of and a bit surprised that it came from my brain! My name was entering conversations of people I had never met but who felt they knew me from my writings. And our financial woes had come to an end. I even hired someone to repaint the house and get rid of that sickly green that covers every wall.

The morning I awoke from that dream I had to check the walls -- just to make sure it was a dream. Yep, still green. But the dream was that real.

At that point I realized that I had actually already begun taking steps toward making the dream come true. I've been pursuing my interest in fabric art by growing a blog. I named it after what I hope will be a title of one of my books. I'm actually putting together a platform for that first book. While I was enjoying the journey -- enjoying finding beautiful fabric art and talented artists to share with like minded fabric lovers -- I had found people who just might also promote my book or at least read it.

Look at what you did this year and see how it is going to help you reach your goal. And then put together that list of New Year's Resolutions with an eye to actually making something specific happen.

If your goal is to write for the New Yorker then submit something to them again, and again and again. Read the New Yorker or Ploughshares or Glimmer Train or Newsweek -- whatever is your target market. See what they publish and then give them something that you know they'll like. You know because you have read the market and know the market.

Take a class. If nothing else you'll know that you're better at this writing business than you thought you were!

Even if you are not setting words on a page, find a way to grow your dream. A blog that helps you build a platform. A group of essays that you can self publish if necessary that your family will love. It will teach you to complete a longer project.

Give yourself permission to fail. Seek failure. Try something so outrageous that you know you will never be able to pull it off. Then give it all you have. Play with it. You expect to fail so don't worry.

Learn a new language. It might open new doors, give you a different perspective, or help you broaden your horizons -- maybe if you learn French, you'll actually take that trip to Paris you've been dreaming about.

Read more nonfiction. Watch more movies. Netflix movies on demand and instant downloads. It may seem like escapism but it is also your chance to indulge your fantasies at the same time.

Play! Make time for play!

Change your name. Your writing name. Write under an alias and then fit your writer to that name. Dawn Goldsmith becomes Don Carlos or Emily Dickinson or Jane Austen or Anna Quinlan or Collette! (See photo of Collette)

Don't think of yourself as a 'writer' but as a WRITER or better yet -- an ARTIST!

Just give yourself permission to be that person that frequents your dreams. Well, unless it is a Jack the Ripper kind of guy -- then add "See psychiatrist" to your DO IMMEDIATELY list. But even then, take notes.

2009-12-22T08:52:00.000-05:00

This, I believe, is the great Western truth: that each of us is a completely unique creature and that, if we are ever to give any gift to the world, it will have to come out of our own experience and fulfillment of our own potentialities, not someone else's." -- Joseph Campbell

If this isn't a call for memoir, I don't know what is. Recently I started a job writing for WoodenHorse Publishing which maintains a magazine database. I'm paying more attention to the magazine industry and watching them fold, fold, fold. Self destruct might be a better description. They say the reason for their demise is dwindling advertising revenue or Internet competition or FREE information via Internet. But I think it is plain old inertia.

Anais Nin puts it this way: "Life is a process of becoming, a combination of states we have to go through. Where people fail is that they wish to elect a state and remain in it. This is a kind of death."

And dying they are -- age old publications like I.D (International Design) magazine have been around since the 1950s -- but are closing. Of course there is Kirkus and Editor and Publisher and National Geographic Adventure Magazine and on the list goes.

The editors at I.D. contest that they could have survived. They could have embraced the Internet just as their competitors had done and with their respected brand, could have made a go of it. The magazine hosts an annual design event that brings in quite a hefty income, so their foundation in the design industry is stable. Sadly F&W Media who own I.D. Magazine do not invest any of the funds from the annual event directly back into the magazine. And the editors readily admit that they have not acknowledged the needs of their audience, advertisers nor changed with the times.

I also think the readership has changed and is demanding more. Magazines, particularly women's magazines, seem to think we are a superficial lot and if they just give us the same hash rehashed each season, it will keep readers happy. Lipstick, shoes, hairdos and makeup seem to be bread and butter for women's magazines. Would I read an article about what color of lipstick is in for the coming season? Not if it is longer than a paragraph or two. Would I read an article about the history of lipstick? About the inventor of the corset and its dynamic in the gender wars? You bet! Is it offered in any of the seven sister magazines? Nope.

As writers maybe we are not offering the magazines an opportunity to change and grow. I see that list articles are popular. Every magazine has a front cover sporting the term 'the top 5, 10, 50 ways to leave your lover or some kind of list that lures people inside. What about the top five most deadly professions or businesses or the top 10 ways to teach your child responsibility? Or maybe the five reasons prostitution is on the rise. Maybe the 5 things your mother never told you about marriage....

Maybe there's something you want to write about but don't think anyone would read it? If you don't put it out there, it won't get read, for sure! Maybe it is time that writers stop trying to figure out what editors want and give them what they need. They all live in their little ivory towers working 24-7 to put out a magazine and they don't get out in the real world and see what their readerships sees. Perhaps check out your favorite magazine and see what it is failing to provide for your needs and then write it.

If you look at the list of successful writers, they did not write evergreen pieces that were merely a rehash of last year's evergreen story. They introduced something new. Erma Bombeck and Elizabeth Berg offered magazines a new voice. It is time for a new generation of writers to step forward and add their voices to the printed page.

Redbook recently added six new columnists to their stable of writers. All but one were popular bloggers. One wrote edgy pieces for Salon. But all have their own voice. Their own approach to a topic that they now own. Most have written at least one book. All have reinforced Campbell's words: these bloggers/writers/columnists are all unique and are giving to the world based upon their experience and unique perspective. We need more writers who will be true to themselves and write what they NEED to write and not just try to give an editor what he or she thinks she needs. Most of the time editors don't know what they need until they see it.... Put more of yourself into your articles -- not I or me -- but your experiences, your needs, your perception, your knowledge, your spin.

Tropes, symbols, and scenes written in three little words

2009-12-12T21:36:00.001-05:00

A recent discussion about visual illusion and symbolism made me think, of course, about the writing equivalent. (Love this illusion -- face or hands?

After watching a video at Polywog Fiberart about what we see is not actually what is there, I began to believe that the Matrix might be based upon a true story. And that there is more to my senses than ummm meets the eye.

I take alot for granted in this world. Which makes me a very lazy writer. I should strive to understand the why and wherefore of everything! I look at a picture of a train track disappearing into the horizon and get a sense of depth. I see a painting of a craggy mountain pass and see dimensions. I see a landscape and feel certain that some images are closer than others. But I also know that all of these images are on a flat surface.

Isaac Newton with his prism showed that various colors bend at prescribed angles. He was able to bend the light into its various colors. And recently while surfing around, I found a website that declared: "Where distance angles focus nature to advance and recede visually, color angles make picture planes appear to advance and recede visually,... because, in the eye and brain, color angles mimic distance angles, and distance angles are three-dimensional!"

Color can produce depth and distance. We have been taught that some colors recede and others step forward. But I didn't fully grasp how useful this could be. 'Color' in a novel or in our writing can create illusions, too. Descriptions using words that convey more than the sky is up, the ground is down, can give a sense of emotion and depth to the scene. The 'stormy sky' the blood red sun, the shimmer on the horizon, the ozone in the air, all convey more than simple weather descriptions, they allude to something happening or expected to happen in the story. If it is spring -- then we can anticipate a new beginning. Winter and perhaps an end is in sight. A death. A suspension of life as in hibernation?

Introduced into the discussion was 'symbolism' that becomes cliched. A butterfly signifying new life perhaps or a ladybug representing latchkey kids? (Ladybug, ladybug fly away home, your house is on fire and your children, they will burn....) Or you watch the horror movie and the camera moves to the basement door and you want to stand up and yell, "Don't go down there!"

Tropes. Visual symbols that tell a whole story. They work well in writing. An example that Elizabeth Strout taught in a class I took with her back in Iowa involved a white kitchen stove. The character sees a stove and she flashes back to the kitchen of her childhood home where she watched her father press her mother's hand or cheek or some part of her anatomy to the red hot electric burner on the white kitchen stove. The author needs to introduce this relationship between symbol and story once, just once. And ever after whenever the white stove is introduced into the story, it represents domestic abuse. It is a form of shorthand. Very effective.

But when used, like the basement door, or the butterfly, it gets a bit cliched. So as with other cliches, it must be changed, stood on its ear. A trip down the basement stairs means freedom. It worked in the movie Patriot Games, based on a Tom Clancy novel. The characters waited in the dark of the basement to make their escape while the bad guys entered the upstairs and searched for them. But the understanding of basement and danger added an element of suspense to their sanctuary.

Or, in the case of the Harry Potter movie where the bluebird, representing spring and good things and hope and second chances, lands in the whomping willow. The willow draws a branch back like a baseball bat and smacks the bird out of the picture. Feathers fly as the bird splatters. There's a moment when you first see this that your brain has to reorganize its preconception. Utter silence in the theater and then laughter and cringing and us Bambi lovers are aghast even as we laugh. My brain did such a great job of reorganizing this visual clue that I wince whenever I see a bluebird or any bird land in a tree during a movie.

The right word in the right place takes on new meaning when you think about all that stands hidden in a word. When my mother (born in 1912) was a girl 'gay' meant happy and cheerful and fun to be around. 'Queer' meant different or in some instances a change in health. She was 'taken queer.' Now the word holds a whole segment of the population in its verbs and consonants.

Writing an entire scene in three words. "The white stove."

You see it don't you?

The Universe is Listening!

2009-12-10T18:48:00.000-05:00

Be careful what you wish for! That's one of the many cliches/admonitions/old wives tales whatever you want to call it that I was raised with. Today I saw the universe come to bear on such a statement and it was amazing!

A friend emailed me lamenting her need for more income. Nothing unusual about that. Making money from writing has gotten more challenging and some of our favorite editors are looking for work and some of our favorite magazines have folded.

She wondered if maybe she could find a market for book reviews, in addition to the ones for which she already writes. Publishers Weekly maybe or Kirkus? And then I received a Google Alert that I had set for Magazine Publishing News. It said that Publishers and Editors has been axed (the magazine not the actual people). "The magazine, which has covered journalism and the media for more than a century, said on its Web site that industry support has been overwhelming in the wake of the news that E&P is to be shuttered."

And then I saw a discussion at Internet Writing Workshop that Kirkus had also been axed.

I sat in shock. Both of those magazines have been around forever. They were popular. Respected. Icons of trusted reporting and reviewing. The world is crashing around our ears!

I emailed the friend and told her to scratch Kirkus off her list. We were lamenting about review markets and were glad we worked for one that seemed to be fairly solid.

A few minutes later another email. This time from the editor at this solid review market saying that she needs help! Apparently with the sudden demise of Kirkus, several strings or should I say review contracts were left dangling and we would be picking up the slack.

I emailed my friend and she emailed me and we did this cyber happy dance as emails collided. We now have more books to review than we could imagine and some of them at higher pay because of the urgency involved. There's sadness at the loss of an old and venerable market and magazine. There's sadness over the loss of respected journalistic award winning publications.

But in the immediate future, I see a chance to actually pay off Christmas! I see work and a chance to feel productive and needed and all of that because I can read and write reasonable book reviews. Will it pay the mortgage? Probably not. But it will certainly close the gap between my budget and reality.

And I have come to realize that there really is a silver lining in those storm clouds and it is darkest before the dawn. I didn't want a magazine to fold just so I could write more reviews. But it makes me wonder if everything is truly connected in this universe. Needs are met in the strangest ways. And maybe, just maybe if all of these pieces fit together. Then maybe I'm wishing too small.

Internet Alter Ego Takes on Perfectionist Procrastination

2009-12-08T10:25:00.001-05:00

Have you ever conducted a Google search or any online search for your name? Turn up some interesting people? I discovered quite a number of Dawns doing amazing things and more Dawn Goldsmiths than I ever expected. Every now and then I am reminded of one in particular.

I have set up Google Alerts for my name. It is a good practice to see if anyone is using your work hopefully with byline intact. Also it shows if other sites such as Technorati or search engines are picking up my writings. It also picks up some of the OTHER Dawn Goldsmith's postings to her blog: Change Your Life (A Little Bit at a Time.) She has some good columns.

Today's blog speaks to imperfection and at least beginning or trying whether you are expert, perfect or not. I particularly liked her reminder in step number 2:

"Imperfect action is better than perfect action. You can sit around tinkering with your business plan or novel until its perfect, or refrain from participating in that 10K until you're a better runner, or not bother about pitching to customers until you've got your branding just right. But ultimately, how is being perfect working for you right now? Got any clients? Finished that novel? Don't strive for perfect first time round. Cut yourself some slack. Being creative needs a little nurturing - not nagging."

Seems like I want everything to be 'just right.' It really shows up in my fiction and in my fabric projects. Perfect stops me in my tracks every time. What if I don't create a character acting absolutely correctly according to the 'backstory' I have given them? What if someone who was bonked on the head couldn't react with anger and what if someone in a car accident wouldn't see the world slow down around them? But then again what if I'm right enough? Or what if it is perfect enough for this particular draft of my manuscript?

If I don't persevere past this need for perfection, nothing ever gets done.

Often I listen to other people talk about inviting the neighborhood women into their home for a cookie exchange. Or hosting the family holiday gathering or making handmade gifts for their mothers-in-law.... My house is never clean enough, decorated good enough, nor filled with the furniture that is good enough for guests -- so no one gets invited. Not to mention the chore of making cookies that might not be perfect! And making handmade gifts -- they'd laugh! If they didn't laugh they'd think I was too poor to buy 'real' gifts.... Well, that's my way of doing nothing.

Perhaps if you look at my litany of pathetic excuses (I really should perfect them!) you'll see that your reasoning for not doing things may be just as weak as mine. I hate to keep quoting a tennis shoe commercial, but they are right -- JUST DO IT!

Or, in the words of the OTHER Dawn Goldsmith: "Just Start. Start working on your goal today. Forget the reasons why you shouldn't, needn't, can't... the longest journey begins with a single step!"

One thing that helps me relax into a project, especially something like sewing or cleaning or painting or laundry is listening to a delightful book on tape. Just having the voices in the background help. But getting lost in the story is so relaxing that I stop obsessing about perfection or not wanting to rip out that seam or whatever whine is bubbling up inside of me. Perhaps music does that for you, too.

Isn't it funny how two unrelated Dawns can think so alike? Although, I think I see a family resemblence.... (Photo: Dawn Goldsmith -- the OTHER)

Tax Police Uncover an Art Stash and I See a Novel Idea!

2009-12-06T10:20:00.003-05:00

"ROME (AP).- Italian tax police said Saturday that they had seized works by Van Gogh, Picasso, Cezanne and other giants of art in a crackdown on assets hidden by the disgraced founder of the collapsed dairy company Parmalat. Parma Prosecutor Gerardo Laguardia said that, based on wiretapped phone conversations, officials believed at least one of the paintings hidden by Calisto Tanzi, founder of the dairy company Parmalat was about to be sold. Authorities estimated the 19 masterpieces stashed away in attics and basements were valued at some euro100 million ($150 million). No arrests, as yet, were announced as part of the art seizure." (Photo and text from Art Knowledge News. Their newsletter is fantastic and the website a sure place you'll want to visit.)

Just when we think we've seen it all. No new treasures, no old treasures to surface, the Italian tax police clear out a dairyman's secret attic room and viola! A stash of Van Gogh, Picasso, Cezanne and other giants of art come to light. Interesting comment about 'no arrests as yet.... '

I just completed writing a review of Tracy Kidder's latest book "Strength in What Remains." It reminded me of a reoccuring topic -- reoccuring for me since the first time I read the word 'Holocaust' and saw the naked skeletons walking or piled like cord wood or staring sightlessly from a mass grave. This 'stash' brings back the Holocaust and makes me wonder if these works of art once belonged to Jewish families who ended up dying in gas chambers or concentration camps? Rochelle Krich wrote Blood Money about this; Lev Raphael won awards for his The German Money concerning this topic. Leon Uris wrote Exodus and Armageddon and a whole string of best selling novels based upon Jews and the Holocaust. Exodus, I understand, is so strongly fact based that it could stand as nonfiction.

Funny how one thing leads to another. In Kidder's book, a young man Deogratias is happy in a pastoral life in Burundi. His family know hunger, but they have cattle, are respected and liked by others and are better off than many. He accidently hears the terms Tutsi and Hutu. His family will not discuss the words. They became angry and refused to discuss what it means to be Tutsi in a country whose majority is Hutu. They won't mention an uprising, a cleansing that happened before Deo's birth. When the 'next' genocidal civil war erupts in 1994, Deo is unprepared for the carnage, the hatred, the wild mob mentality and then the silence. You will see the entire review at Interent Review of Books with their next posting. But for now, let me say that man's inhumanity to man is alive and well and just as horrific as ever.

But back to the Italian Tax Police. Do we have United States Tax Police? I don't know. I suppose the local sheriff gets to take care of clearing out a person's possessions if they fail to pay taxes. Evict them from their homes. Foreclose -- oh that would be the banker. Where do the people go? What becomes of them? And What becomes of the growing anger and frustration and dispair?

Do you feel the story here? Do you wonder? Are you curious?

Do you think of Susan Vreeland's "Girl in Hyacinth Blue" and the linear stories of the people who owned an 'unknown' Vermeer painting? A novel, yes. And so delightful in these stories complete in a chapter/section, yet linked by the painting.

Is this synchronistic scene or word association considered layers? Even Deo's name conjurs up another popular book and author -- The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown. Tom Hanks. Catholic Church. Eradications and excommunications and secret societies.

Is this why writers must be readers and scholars and above all curious? If I hadn't read these books, if I hadn't been curious about the art thieves during the Holocaust, if I hadn't thought about history and events not directly associated with a simple reporting of Tax Police finding a stash of paintings, this would be a very short and perhaps even more boring blog than it is! But then again, if I had read more extensively I could add more substance. More background, fact, reason, politics, psychological fallout, more depth.

I think this is the key to good writing. Knowledge and research and maybe most of all curiosity. Seek to connect things that are unrelated. Math and genocide? Is there a connection? Music and war? Cooking and freedom? The writer must see the connections between so many diverse and seemingly unrelated things.

As I write this I hear arguing on the television over the Afghanistan war. More man's inhumanity to man. I imagine this is more proof that this is a story that will not go away. Maybe it is up to writers to find a new perspective, a new way of reporting or seeing or characterizing this theme that engulfs our world -- whether we want to see it or not.

Elizabeth Berg Writes Like I Write -- In My Dreams

2009-12-03T13:40:00.000-05:00

Elizabeth Berg writes books I wish I had written. I've admired her honesty and the sense of depth of emotion and meaning and understanding that I get from reading her novels. Lately I've begun to think of her as my mentor, sister, alter-ego?

For some reason, when I was a page in the library, two women came in and struck up a conversation with me. While I shelved books they moved along with me, whispering and asking about books. I'm always willing to talk about books and of course that leads to writing and I admitted to having published a few items. They asked to see my work and I directed them to this blog.

A couple weeks later they were back in the library. I believe it was the last time I ever saw either woman. But a few days after that a package arrived in the mail and it was from one of the women. A book. What else!? But more than that. It was Elizabeth Berg's "Escaping Into the Open: The Art of Writing True."

The timing didn't seem right. I looked at the book, thanked the women, we emailed a few times and then they disappeared from my life.

A few days ago a dear friend, Lyn, sent me an email about her experience reading Elizabeth Berg's newest book "Home Safe." Lyn wrote:

"I don't know if her writing reminds me of your writing, or your writing reminds me of hers. You both have the knack of writing how I feel."

Those two sentences are all I needed to hold onto, enough to renew hope that 'some day.' Someday I will be able to fill a book that others will want to read.

Now I have resurrected Berg's book on writing. It wasn't hard to find. For some reason it has set atop my bookshelf where I glance at it everytime I enter my office. Perhaps now is the time. I see that Berg advises to have 'purpose -- a reason for writing --, a plan to do more than dream about writing and among other things: perseverance. She writes, "Don't let rejection of any kind stop you from writing. Period."

It is her next two 'P's' that seems to make me stumble: Priorities. "You've got to be insistent and consistent with yourself and others about making time for writing." And maybe the hardest -- playground. "In your effort to take yourself seriously as a writer, don't forget your need to have fun, too."

There are more P's, more book to read, more words for me to write. And more of Berg's novels for me to read. But for now, I turn Lyn's words over and over, basking in their support and glow. Me and Elizabeth Berg in the same sentence. How cool is that?!

As I write this, I think of Ann Hite and her dance with a publisher. Will they dance the night away or will he turn away?

My money is on a long-term relationship! Stay tuned!

2009-12-01T09:32:00.000-05:00

Looking for the perfect book for a church-going friend? Hopefully one with a sense of humor?

Look no further than Mark Schweizer's liturgical mysteries series. Mark's 'primary' job is to run St. James Music Press. If you need a special anthem for your church -- Mark's got one just for you. And since the printing press is setting around, he publishes his own books.

Yes, he 'self-publishes' but then again he IS a publisher!

Anyway, back to the books. The titles alone tell you what kind of unbalanced half-wit, I mean funny man, the author is. First of the series: The Alto Wore Tweed, followed by The Baritone Wore Chiffon. Third in the series: The Tenor Wore Tap Shoes. Oh and one of my favorites: The Soprano Wore Falsettos. The Bass Wore Scales and The Mezzo Wore Mink rounds out the series.

The series features choir director (and the small town's lawman) Hayden Konig. He's a Raymond Chandler wannabe and part of the fun of the series is the main character's attempts to write a mystery. In addition to that the first book has the most hilarious set up for a death that I have ever ever ever read.

Maybe it is my perverse sense of humor but what kind of mind puts together blow-up sex dolls, a guy in a sheet, and a woman leaping from the sun roof of a speeding car -- and Christian beliefs? I don't know that I've ever laughed that hard at any book, let alone a mystery.

Yet beneath all of the hype and hilarity are characters (well, some of them) with a good heart, alot of truth about small town life, and a decently told mystery to unravel. Even some insight into the female gender. "The sniffling stopped almost immediately and I, once again, had to admire the female gender's ability to regulate the flow of tears in direct proportion to their chances of receiving a traffic summons."

What I like though, is the way the scene does not stop there, nor does the set-up. Suddenly the hapless female with the lead foot turns and asks, "Are you Hayden?" She sniffed, wiping the remaining tear from her cheek and catching me totally by surprise. "My mother said I should meet you."

And this is how he met his soon to be significant other. He's definitely met his match -- another perk of this series -- strong women. But be warned religion, the church, the practices and the idiosyncrasies of all get called out for a bit of humor. Well deserved ribbing.

The praise for this book page is not to be missed -- and that's before you even begin the story. One example: "...Wonderful use of quotation marks. Although he [Schweizer] uses words the way a demented dentist might use a dull and rusty drill, his punctuation is extraordinary! -- Sandy Cavanah, English Professor"

The humor is refreshing and it pokes fun at the book publishing biz as much as at religion and anything else that enters the mind of Mark Schweizer.

Visual Motivation to Write

2009-11-30T09:48:00.000-05:00

Just a little visual aid to motivate you to put butt in chair and write that book or novel that you've been 'meaning to' write. This is a photo of Linda Swink, author of In Their Honor at her publisher's office during her first book signing.

I've known Linda for years and she's struggled just like the rest of us. But, when she finally settled down in her chair, turned on her Mac and got down to work -- she created a book that will greatly add to the military history of the United States. No small deal, but she did it one word, one day, one rewrite at a time. She might have had a bit more hair before starting this project. I received several emails from her saying "I'm pulling my hair out!" And a few others that said, "Why did I ever start this?" And here she sits in her classic camel tan suit signing her name to copies that people are buying and taking home and THANKING her for writing the book.

I know they say that writing a book is like childbirth, but in this respect I will say that the memory of the pain of the creation process fades quickly once you hold that new baby/book in your hands. I believe she'd do it all over again. But right now, she's devoted herself to the marketing aspects of the process.

This photo brings back memories of going to a reading by my dear friend Peggy Vincent in Iowa City and celebrating afterwards. Her book Baby Catcher: Chronicles of a Modern Midwife still gives me goosebumps. The euphoria!

And a few years later Gary Presley read from his Seven Wheelchairs at the same podium at Prairie Lights Bookstore in Iowa City. I could close my eyes and see the room, feel the enthusiasm even if I was a thousand miles away.

It does happen.

It does happen to people we know and respect.

And -- it can happen to us.

A new year is fast approaching -- it is the year for us to finish our projects and get them out there.

Forget all you hear about the doomed publishing industry. That has nothing to do with your book. Your job is to write whatever it is you are compelled to write. The book only YOU can write.

Write it and they will come.

Publish Your Own Book

2009-11-29T10:53:00.000-05:00

I have been very narrow in my focus about self-publishing. Vanity press. But I see so many opportunities right now that involve self-publishing. Especially if you have more than words to offer. Photographs, drawings, recipes, ephemera. Pictured here is the cover of a book, Wild at the Edges, that Virginia Spiegel put together with the help of Blurb Books software.

She is selling the book at a reasonable amount and 25 percent of the income will go to the American Cancer Society. A beautiful book in concept and execution. And it is self-published.

Blurb Books and I think Lulu also offers an easy and not so expensive way to craft a book. I don't advocate these books in place of selling your work with a respected publisher, but I do think making your own books can give you another tool to accomplish what you have set out to do.

1. A book to use/sell when you perform readings or lectures or inspirational talks. Linda Swink published a handbook with a small publisher to promote when she went on her speaking tour of Toastmasters. The book was about speaking!
2. A book to compile your work as in my case, personal essays.

3. A book to record family history or photos or ephemera that you don't want forgotten by your children, grandchildren. A way to document a life that may not gather the attention of New York publishers. Mona Vaneck has made books for her family. She has also compiled and written historic one-of-a-kind books that were not self-published. So there are small publishing houses and sponsors for books that may not have a wide appeal.

4. A message you feel passionate about. Recently I reviewed a self-published book by a man who thought 'character' should be put back into the business world. Beautiful book, by the way.

5. Motivation for you to look at. Something tangible and compact that reminds you where you've been and where you're going. Perhaps a more formal type of journal. If you're like I am, I have papers spread everywhere. Clippings from my years in the newspaper business. I'd love to compile some of that in a book or a series of books. My kids might actually save those and not throw them in the trash when they are forced to clean out all of the things I fail to get rid of.

6. A tool to offer to publishers or anyone interested in seeing what you can do. Something to thrust under the nose of a fellow writer or neighbor or mother-in-law who thinks you write for a hobby.

7. A fundraiser. Sell books with a percentage going to ALS or Cancer, such as Karna Converse has done and to document a life that should not be forgotten.

Do I think these will be a strong foundation for a writing business? Probably not.

But if you are compelled to write and want to see your work in book form, this may be just what a person needs to take them to the next level. If nothing else it is a learning tool and gets a writer into marketing which has become an important part of the book selling equation.

A blog is a form of open book where you can post your writings, add some illustrations, and offer it to the world. The problem with a blog can be that it will then be considered 'published' by any editor seeking to purchase your work.

If you have a body of work that you want to display -- there's no reason you should keep it in a drawer, not with the software technology and low cost book makers available today. Will it hurt your chances of getting with a big publisher? No. If you are the quality of writer they want, nothing will stop them.

But most important. Write what you want to write; what you're compelled to write. And then work on making it better!

Memoir Writing: Part of the Collective Human Consciousness

2009-11-18T16:00:00.000-05:00

A discussion has been going on about whose stories we should be allowed to tell. Is it right, fair, just, or despicable for someone to write a 'memoir' and write about other people who have no chance to speak up for themselves or have imput into what you write? Then the discussion, as most online discussions do, devolved into bashing memoirs.

What are we put on this earth for if not to learn something from the lives we live and share that information with others. Or at the very least, delve into the events of that life and find the truth hidden deep inside. I write personal essays -- a form of memoir in essay form. And being the kind of person who pays very little attention to myself, I've written the essays about my husband. After all, who have I observed any closer for the past 38 years than him? I have a whole series of 'real men' essays about him. Not bashing him, but starting with an anecdote and going from there. Like the time he left a tip at a small seafood restaurant in Central Florida and the waitress came running out after him. She stopped, hesitated, asked if he meant to leave that tip and when he nodded she thanked him.

I believe the moment frightened him. I know it did me because he's by necessity a very frugal man. Very. Our son was with us and just stared open mouthed. But the anecdote wasn't truly about a large tip, it was about a man who stepped out of his economic constraints and rewarded someone who worked hard to make our meal a pleasure. It was about being frugal in a generous way and making his family proud to know him. And it was an opportunity for a son to see his father with new eyes. Each essay may have started with a story about my husband, but it truly said more about me. My focus of my husband had narrowed and I had forgotten what a generous man he truly was.

So, when I finally had had enough of memoir bashing from this online discussion. This is what I wrote:
Memoir offers something that biography can't. If it didn't, then people wouldn't be compelled to write them. Or read them!

My brother and I grew up in the same house seven years apart. Obviously he a male, me female. We have the same parents and yet my brother and I are worlds apart in attitude and perception and just about everything else. So of course he will not see our childhood or parents or home the same way I do. And no one can see it the same way I do. It is MY STORY. Only I can tell it. Is it 'true' or 'factual'? I don't substitute things for effect. I don't exchange a cock fight when it was actually alley cats. But I do write it through my own eyes. Do I glamorize it? No. Is the focus narrow? Yes. Do I set it in the era drawing on what was going on in the world at that time -- yes. A personal essay and memoir too, work through things. The author begins at one point and is changed by the time he or she reaches the end. And the audience, if the piece is done well, get to see the change.

Do I censor it for fear of hurting someone's feelings? Sadly. Yes. But I do not advocate censoring 'self.'

We shouldn't worry about feelings especially someone else's when writing. It should all go on the page. Find the heart of your essay or memoir and then craft the story around that. But first you must be free to put it all down on paper. Ideally I write about my life. But most of the best essays I have written have actually centered on my husband. But it is me, looking at him and reaching conclusions. The conclusions are not about him though, they are about me and my perspective. Most of the times discovering things I never realized.

The best part about writing memoir is the treasure you uncover in the writing. I didn't know that the knitted potholder was about gender roles or that Snow Angels was about dying with dignity or that the scar on my thumb and washing dishes was about sisterhood and exchanging roles -- growing into my mother's hands. Yet, I think these kinds of stories about small things from one small insignificant perspective are vital in what makes us human.

Makes us connect. Makes us realize we aren't alone with these experiences and issues. A memoir starts discussions. Every time someone reads my personal essays there is a comment, "That reminds me of the time...."

Sometimes, often, the impact is so solid that it causes tears or laughing out loud or a phone call to someone they love but also hate. I'm not saying that my writing is all that good. I'm saying that things written from the heart touch other hearts.

And this whole argument about 'the good old days' were not so good. Well, it depends on what role you were playing during those good old days. Being a child with a sense of security, ignorance about economic class or hardships certainly is a different perspective than the father working in a steel mill and facing layoffs. A reader of memoir should be smart enough (it doesn't take much) to realize where the author/narrator is standing when looking out on this vista. And what is wrong with describing a perfect moment? For heaven sakes people these are memoirs and they are about memory and feeling and personal truth and growth and pain and society and relationships and perspective. No one else can ever write MY memoir.

What happens with memoir is when my memories and the readers touch and they can say, "Yes, yes, I get it. That's what it was. She put my pain into words...."

I'm involved with fabric artists through my blog Subversive Stitchers: Women Armed with Needles. They call themselves 'artists' which is a great word for freeing up self censorship. Perhaps we need to adopt that moniker and see what happens to our writings. Do we write for utilitarian reasons or for art? It is the same in fabric art. Are you making a beautiful quilt for the bed or to hang on the wall? Are you carefully following the rules with perfectly abutted corners and straight seams and precise quarter inch seams or are you working on transforming cloth into a butterfly or a face or a kaleidoscope? What is memoir but a use of words to take a life and find the meaning and significance and lessons learned to share with others....

Google memoir and see what you find. I found this site interesting in Columbia University News.

Find Yourself in Play

2009-11-17T09:06:00.000-05:00

I'm being interviewed for a guest blog thingy and it has made me realize that I haven't lived my life for 'me' in a very long time. And I don't have a body of work to show that I'm creative or successful.

If anyone asks me my favorite color, favorite food, favorite movie -- I don't know. Now, ask me my husband's or my sons' or even my mother's favorites and I'd have a better chance to answer. I don't even know my favorite song -- Derrol's is anything Beatles and One Tin Soldier. And he knows the words to every song and he knows who wrote every song. Me? Not a clue.

The one thing I have maintained through the years is my own identity in books. I KNOW my favorite books and authors. I even know why! I even have a favorite poem. All of this to say that I'm getting old and don't know who I am. And we think teenagers are mixed up!

The good thing about reaching this age is that I can give up all pretense of being what everyone else wants. I can just be me -- as soon as I figure out who she is.

I thought I was a painter. I'm still looking for my creative outlet. Words are failing me these days. So I picked up a brush. A picture is worth a thousand words. Well, not this one. Unless they are explitives. Yet, I learned quite a bit while making this picture.

First of all, I used Latex satin wall paint as the background color. Then I brushed a layer of some metallic textile paint that I had leftover from my Playing with Paint class with Lyric Kinard. And then I used a Jacobean quilt design from Patricia B. Campbell and Mimi Ayars book "Jacobean Rhapsodies" as my design. I don't draw. I have difficulty tracing. But it came out okay.

Then I gathered up the acrylics that we had purchased way back when Derrol and I thought he could make painted wooden Christmas ornaments. I had red, green, blue, yellow, black, white, brown and a couple of glittering thingies. I started mixing colors and trying to achieve some of the 'fabric' look of the photo in the quilt book. Thanks to Lyric, I didn't hesitate after I thought, "I wonder...." I just started mixing. Did you know you can get a beautiful rose color by mixing brown and bright red? I also learned how to make Army green -- or the color of mud. Not my best experiment, but it did work as a base color for a leaf on which I over painted a few stripes and speckles. Acrylics dry really really fast so it is difficult to swirl colors into them like the textile paints.

I'm pleased with some of the things I tried on this painting. It turned out as I had hoped. Overall -- it looks like a paint by number gone badly wrong. Childish? Maybe Folk Artsy -- definitely. Not the look I was going for. Too bright. Too gawdy. And now I'm wondering why I have loved Jacobean prints and quilts for all of these years. It may have something to do with the black backgrounds traditionally used.

All of this to say -- I still think I might be a painter. But most of all I think I'm learning how to let go, experiment, and take away something from what I've done rather than beat myself up because it isn't working. OK, there was about six hours of that, too.

Another thing about any kind of art -- painted or fabric or painted fabric -- it is inspiring. And it makes words form in my brain. And for someone my age capturing the right word when you want it has gotten a bit trickier. So in all honesty, I present you with yesterday's work in order to inspire you to play! And, I've included Renoir to show how well his play time turned out!

Maybe I'll repaint this in a monotone -- navy blue? Well, off to experiment. The nice thing about paint -- just add another layer. Hey, that's good advice for a novel, too!

Blurb Books May be the Answer to Gift Giving Concerns

2009-11-13T18:24:00.000-05:00

Instant gratification. Instant gifts.

Well, I'm not sure the time frame from start to finish, but I've heard from two fabric artist friends who have made the most beautiful books using Blurb free book software with the option of using their professional staff. Pictured here is a cover of a new release.

They can do it themselves as fancy or simple as they want. Photos seem to be the mainstay with fewer words.

One artist, Virginia Spiegel, included essays as well as photos and artist statements and whatever she felt like. It is her second book with Blurb and she's totally satisfied. Here's what she recently wrote in her newsletter:

"Wild on the Edges: Inspiration from a Creative Life by Virginia Spiegel. This book evolved by keeping in mind the kind of book I like to take to bed with me (maybe with a glass of wine or a mug of hot chocolate) and peruse as the spirit moves me.You will find encouragement for art and living, a sense of wonder, a little advice, closeup photos of art and nature and, last, but not least, a very personal view of the driving forces behind my creative life.Wild on the Edges will be available soon from Blurb books."

Virginia has taken more than a dozen trips into the wilderness with her sister and has kept journals and created an exquisite series of fabric art pieces based upon her experiences. This is not her first book with Blurb, she's made several for family and friends. But this is the first she's offering for sale.

Judy Coates Perez just blogged about making her first book and what I can see of it, it is quite tastefully done. I adore Judy's fabric art and was so pleased to see her win an award for her Moon Garden at Houston in October, 2009. Who says fabric art and books and words don't fit together like a hand and glove?

I look at Judy's fabric art and can see the world she has created and it is a place I'd enjoying visiting for an extended stay!

I wonder if this might not be a fascinating way to get an agent's or a publisher's attention. Make your own book and then present it to them to see if they'd like to feature your work? I don't suppose it would work for multiple submissions, but perhaps just one agent you want to love you -- maybe it would work. But it would definitely need to be really WELL DONE!

No failure, just results -- unless you don't try

2009-11-13T08:43:00.001-05:00

There is no such thing as failure. There are only results. --Tony Robbins (Robbins in photo)

Well, there you have what I've been trying to say for several weeks now. This is what I learned in my Play with Paint class taught by Lyric Kinard. No failure, just results. Yep, that's the way it is.

Bums me out that Tony Robbins is the one who said what I wanted to say, but at least it is now said!

No failure, just results. Unless you don't try.

Then there aren't even results. Then there is just the feeling that you could have, or should have or might have, but you'll never know. And for some that's much better than success. Live with a fantasy of what could have been may be better than discovering that it was in fact just a fantasy and it could never happen.

But then aren't you just a bit curious? Could your tinkering with words make you the next J.K.Rowling? Or even the next Lewis Grizzard or Dave Barry or Elizabeth Berg? Don't you have something to say that is eating at you and you just wish it was okay to write it?

Aren't you even the least bit curious about what happens when you chain up your censor and just write what feels good? I've often wondered if there are more Sue Monk Kidds out there who have limited themselves to good acceptable restrained, did I say 'censored' Christian writing. And like Sue Monk Kidd they break loose, embraced the Goddess and write their own Secret Life of Bees or Mermaid's Chair before slipping back behind the curtain of respectability and pious Christianity to once again pen how to be the perfect wife....

How many more lives did she touch with her Bees and Mermaids than with her When the Heart Waits: Spiritual Direction for Life's Sacred Questions -- I wonder?Writing for the saved and writing for the unsaved masses.... Which fulfills the Christian calling? But who am I to have such thoughts?

Certainly I am no Tony Robbins. Certainly not Sue Monk Kidd. So who am I and where do I belong in this world. I can enjoy my fantasy at night when the lights are out and I close my eyes and envision this successful, revered writer. Is that enough? Or do I need to see if that is in fact the life I should be leading?

How does one get from the here to the wow!?

One word at a time.

Flash-Fiction Addiction

2009-11-06T08:18:00.000-05:00

Glen Binger, editor of 50 to 1, has a few words to offer about flash fiction and words of encouragement to all writers. Please welcome Glen to Observations. -- Dawn

The first time I referred to myself as a writer in conversation I shocked myself. I was probably a freshmen in college and still learning the ins and outs of how to gather an audience of some sort; whether it be my friends or people I didn't know. Then I discovered blogging. It seemed long-winded, but so did everything else. Blogging turned into Twitter. And thus, flash-fiction/nano-fiction/micro-fiction/whatever-you-want-to-call-it was born and evolved and grew tremendously in popularity. But now people's attention spams are limited. How does this affect the way writers write?

As the editor of 50 to 1, I try to keep this idea in mind. I know people want to read something short and still want to feel like they've accomplished something by doing so. It is the same for writing these micro pieces. It is definitely something that every writer should keep tucked away in the back of their brain.

I don't necessarily agree with the realm of flash-fiction storming literature the way it is, but I do see why it is gaining numbers. Don't get me wrong; I love reading a strong piece of flash-fiction. If you write something that short that is so strongly developed, then you have done a lot. That's what I look for as an editor. It is hard to write a 50-word story and still have it do something. When it works, its awesome. When it doesn't, its just a couple of words blotched together.

I just don't like to see the other forms of literature go unnoticed because of this. I want people to keep writing novels, poetry collections, short stories, etc. I want to keep reading them. As should everyone calling themselves a writer.

I guess what I'm getting at; don't let a good story or poem go unread because it is too long. And, in that same idea, don't shorten the length of your work because you want it to be published somewhere. Don't change your style to gain an audience; that's no fun. Most writers know they are readers first, writers second. So most writers understand the differences people have in style. Yes, there are writers who dedicate most of their work to flash fiction. And, vise versa, there are writers who dedicate their work to novels and lengthier fiction. But they understand the importance of the opposite category. Most writers I know dabble in just about any area they can; even though they'd like to call themselves a strict flash-fiction-ite or a strict novelist.

Maybe I'm not making any sense at all. I don't know. I'm certainly no expert on the area and I probably sound like an idiot. But hey, what the hell. I like all kinds of literature and, basically, I think that is what should be important to any writer. Just be open to anything and stay true to yourself. Have your favorites, write whatever you want, and read everything. Your audience will come to you and continue to grow if you just keep at it.

Glen can be contacted at: glenbinger@gmail.com

What if you cannot fail?

2009-11-04T22:09:00.000-05:00

Ahhhh the possibilities.

What would you do today if you knew you could not fail?

What a fun question. And where does it lead you? What do I avoid for fear of failing? What do I put off doing because I might not do it well? What is the one thing I most want to succeed at?

But if you couldn't fail -- would you fly? Would you step outside of who you are today and become that other person that seems to come to life only in your dreams?

Would you approach someone who intimidates you or someone you consider a legend or celebrity or out of your league? Would you search for a soulmate or search for an answer to an ancient secret? Maybe a cure for a rare disease. Or maybe you'll write that creative piece of writing that your censor keeps warning you away from,

Conversations in Design Prove Inspiring

2009-11-03T11:29:00.000-05:00

Writers keep lamenting and worrying and choosing up sides of the changes being seen in the book itself and the industry surrounding books and publishing. Here's a short video that quietly encourages writers and readers that the book is not disappearing nor going anywhere. It is not a sin to abandon paper and ink and the new Kindle is not a book, but it is about communication and networking.

The site Thirty Conversations on Design that houses the video by Ellen Lupton has taken on an interesting project. Described here in their own words:

We’ve collected the thoughts of 30 of the world’s most inspired creative professionals. Architects, designers, authors and leaders of iconic brands.

We asked them two questions: “What single example of design inspires you most?” and “What problem should design solve next?” Their answers might surprise you. But hopefully, they’ll all inspire you. Discover what they have to say. Then share your thoughts. After all, this is a conversation.
I particularly enjoyed the video by Linda Tischler about New York's Central Park and its designer. Perhaps their words will also inspire you or comfort you or reach out to see things in a new and different way.

2009-10-28T07:09:00.000-04:00

The best writing class I ever took had nothing to do with writing.

I signed up for a fabric painting class: Playing with Paint taught by Lyric Kinard. It taught me about textile paints, Shiva sticks, wet painting, dry painting, monopainting and stamping to name just a few of the exercises. But along the way, I learned to look at just about everything differently.

The cheese grater in the kitchen became a great vehicle for rubbings. Lay a piece of fabric over the grater, hold it in place and rub a Shiva stick over it and the pattern that appeared added texture and interest to the fabric. Same with bubble wrap, a piece of wood, buttons.... Lemons became stamps. Cut one in half, dry it a bit on a paper towel, apply a little paint and stamp it onto the fabric. Same with just about any fruit or vegetable -- who knew they were so interesting, let alone tasty. No, don't eat them after applying the paint.

Whatever we made in that class was a success even when it didn't turn out perfectly -- and that was most of the time for me. Each effort produced an effect that I could document and say, "this turned out well because ..." or "next time I'll dry the lemon a bit better and the results will be more clear." Then we would save the fabric to a book we were compiling of what works and what could work better. No failures. Some we liked better than others. Some we would try to replicate. But throughout the whole class no one felt like a failure. We all had a good time, laughed alot and got to know each other.

So, you're saying, what has that got to do with writing?

During Playing with Paint I realized how long it has been since I ventured to color outside of the lines. Too long I've looked at the same things in the same way. A cheese grater grates cheese. A lemon makes lemonade. But after the class the whole world became filled with possibilities. I saw stamps wherever I looked. I combined unlikely textures and colors and came up with something that looked different from what everyone else was making. As I looked at the world differently, I wrote about it using a different approach, a different perspective, a more playful 'what if' attitude. And I'm having fun.

I'm not failing at anything these days. I'm learning what I like better and how to achieve it by experimenting and discovering what I don't like quite so well and how to avoid it. Most of all I learned that adults must find their way back to play. As Thoreau said, "Any fool can make a rule; and any fool will mind it."

Sometimes 'telling' works better than 'showing.' Sometimes passive fits the need of the passage. If it works, it works. If it doesn't you know what you did, how you did it, and how not to do it again. You've made an example to put in your 'sample' book. You can refer to it, see the various examples and say, "no, definitely not that one.... Or yeah, I think I'll write like that today. That worked so well.

But whatever you do -- make time for play. There is no faster way to learn something than to play with it. Maybe its time you started hanging out with artists -- fabric artists definitely see the world in a different light. If you can't find an artist, kids can teach you alot.

The photo accompanying this is by Lyric Kinard and has much to say about inspiration, experimenting, and making something beautiful that is your unique offering to the world. Now, that's the way I want my writing described.

NANOWRIMO TIME!!!

2009-10-27T09:57:00.000-04:00

Are you joining the mob of writers participating in National Novel Writing Month? I am.

Anything that will encourage me to write, offer me a fixed and immovable deadline and I'm there. I seem to be helpless to move my writing forward alone. I'll be there as wordsogold -- if you want to sign up as my buddy. I need all of the support I can get!

This will be my third year. I finished last year, but it was a chaotic mess. This year, maybe I can get it in order and have an actual manuscript at the end of the month.

What is NANOWRIMO? The website describes themselves as "National Novel Writing Month is a fun, seat-of-your-pants approach to novel writing. Participants begin writing November 1. The goal is to write a 175-page (50,000-word) novel by midnight, November 30."

The only thing that matters is 'output.' Not quality just quantity. It helps free up that self censor and focus on getting that rough draft written.

So, as they have posted on their site, to recap:

So, to recap:

What: Writing one 50,000-word novel from scratch in a month's time.

Who: You! We can't do this unless we have some other people trying it as well. Let's write laughably awful yet lengthy prose together.

Why: The reasons are endless! To actively participate in one of our era's most enchanting art forms! To write without having to obsess over quality. To be able to make obscure references to passages from our novels at parties. To be able to mock real novelists who dawdle on and on, taking far longer than 30 days to produce their work.

When: You can sign up anytime to add your name to the roster and browse the forums. Writing begins November 1. To be added to the official list of winners, you must reach the 50,000-word mark by November 30 at midnight. Once your novel has been verified by our web-based team of robotic word counters, the partying begins.

Still confused? Just visit the How NaNoWriMo Works page!

The War of Art by Steven Pressfield

2009-10-25T14:08:00.000-04:00

Internet Review of Books is putting together a Christmas gift list for readers and their request for suggestions set me to thinking about what books I would like to receive as well as give. And then I thought, "What books do I wish my loved ones would read."
I want my sons to read The War of Art by Steven Pressfield.

Both sons have the hearts of artists and all of the frustrations and economic stresses that accompany such a leaning. I know what they feel, to some extent because they inherited this 'heart' from me. Where I got it we have no idea.

Most of my family are hard working people who can do the same job endlessly for decades. If I last four years at any one task (other than marriage and children) it is by a miracle. Traditional employment with bosses upon bosses treating me like a piece of the furniture and never wondering who I am or what I'm capable of wears me out -- heart and soul and sinew.

It is the time when I'm caught in a nine-to-five job when my mind dwells obsessively on the 'what ifs' and the unlived life that Pressfield depicts so well. "Late at night have you experienced a vision of the person you might become, the work you could accomplish, the realized being you were meant to be?"

He insists that the one thing that stands between the wannabe writer and the real writer is one thing: Resistance.

He writes: "Have you ever brought home a treadmill and let it gather dust int he attic? Ever quit a diet, a course of yoga, a meditation practice? ....Then you know what Resistance is."

And he speaks of various kinds of resistance, how to feed it and what it likes. There's a reason the Bible has the passage: "Fear is of the devil." Fear stops more people in their tracks than anything. Resistance feeds on fear, according to Pressfield. And explains the fear is of consequences that come from following one's heart.

"Fear of bankruptcy, fear of poverty, fear of insolvency.

Fear of groveling when we try to make it on our own, and of groveling when we give up and come crawling back to where we started.

Fear of being selfish, of being rotten wives or disloyal husands; fear of failing to support our families, of sacrificing their dreams for ours.

Fear of betraying our race, our 'hood, our homies.

Fear of failure.

Fear of being ridiculous.

Fear of throwing away the education, the training, the preparation that those we love have sacrificed so much for, that we ourselves have worked our butts off for...."

And the MASTER OF ALL FEARS:

Fear that we will succeed. And with this success we will move out of the comfortable niche, cut the ties and connections that make us a member of the 'tribe' or family where we know what to expect, who to trust, and how to survive and who will help us in that survival. All will be new and strange and foreign in this world of success.

So for a writer. It isn't the writing that is so hard, it is overcoming the resistance and the fear so that we can sit down and actually write.

Yes, definitely, this is a book I want my sons to read. But yet, part of me fears that if they read, if they go after their dreams -- I will lose them. But the artist in me knows that a new connection will grow and maybe if they succeed, there's still hope that I can find the life unlived and still give it a try.

Free Download of Audio Recording of Edgar Allan Poe's Writings

2009-10-21T13:35:00.000-04:00

This year marks the 200th anniversary of the birth of Edgar Allan Poe, whose stories are perennial classics on audio.

From old-time radio drama performances by actors such as Peter Lorre and Boris Karloff to modern-day unabridged recordings, Poe's chilling stories have engrossed and entertained generations of listeners. This Halloween, turn down the lights, turn up the volume on your iPod, and celebrate Poe's audio legacy.

Narrator William Roberts finds Edgar Allan Poe's work is "even more deliciously frightening" as an audio experience than in print. Listen to William Roberts read from THE FACTS IN THE CASE OF M. VALDEMAR, which he calls "a lovely story—and it still gives everyone the creeps." It has to do with hypnotism and dying.

Plus a free download of a collection of Edgar Allan Poe's stories available from AudioFile.

House Cleaning Uncovers Inspiration

2009-10-18T11:08:00.000-04:00

Welcome to Mal, my shadow kitty who takes pleasure in being hidden in plain sight. She's sitting in my Craft (Crap) room. It is a room bursting at the seams, filled to the gills, whatever cliche about stuffed full of junk fits. I need to purge and organize. Mal likes it just the way it is. Everything is hidden in plain sight in this room!

This past week I tiptoed into the chaos. Books filled and overflowed the book cases. Boxes sat where I had dropped them in my rush to tidy up the 'public' areas of the house. And dust sparkled on every surface. Obviously my 'crap' room was a place I avoid.

With a deep sigh and resignation, I picked a couple of teetering piles of papers. Thinking that I would get rid of those piles and feel vindicated. Then I could tiptoe back out of the chaos into the relative cleanliness of the rest of the house.

I leafed through some notes that I had jotted on a sliver of paper. They made no sense. I tossed them. I sorted a few magazines out of the stack. A couple of still usable notebooks. The directions for a knitted baby blanket that I'd been searching for. And then, I discovered some old OLD writings. Some fiction ideas.

I leaned back in my chair and started reading. The story line brought back memories of my own life on which I had based the writings, but more than that.... I realized that this was good. Not even quite a rough draft. It was the nugget and details of a fiction novel that had some teeth and depth and details.

I set aside those 'notes' and finished going through the pile, finding several other beginnings of novels that stood the test of time. My mind was spinning with possibilities.

All it takes is an attempt to make sense out of chaos and suddenly the world is filled with possibilities and stories to tell.

My crap room now looks more like a treasure chest where I will go to find more gems. There's an upside to saving things....

Short Stories Pack a Punch!

2009-10-17T15:19:00.000-04:00

Do you read short story fiction? It seems to break all of the rules that apply to novels and nonfiction. Alot of telling. Not much action. Dark, dark, themes and topics. Little action or plot. Quirky, strange, over-the-top characters. And so stunningly intense that they stick in my mind seemingly forever.

Think of "A Good Man is Hard to Find" by Flannery O'Connor.

Who do you remember? Or maybe who can you forget? I suppose the main characters would be the Mother-in-Law and the Outlaw. Perhaps this story jumped into my mind as an example of 'memorable' because of the short story I just finished reading at Subtropics, a literary magazine offered by the University of Florida. It reminds me of Flannery O'Connor's style.

"Give Me That" by Molly Giles is as much a character sketch as anything, yet there is plot and action and a surprise twist, yet all of it works because every action and reaction seems so in line with the characters and events described. I like the easy, informal tone of this story. The first line also ties in with the last line. But with so much MORE depth and meaning than I would have ever thought possible from simply reading the opening line: "Bess didn’t go to Chloe’s memorial just for the cake. She had loved Chloe, well, maybe not loved, Chloe was difficult to love, but Bess had admired her."

The short story is available to read at the Subtropics website.

What else do you remember and was it something you read for fun or because it was assigned? The Lottery by Shirley Jackson perhaps? What newer, non-assignment short story would you recommend as an excellent example of the genre? Or is short story a genre? Have you studied these short stories to understand what worked? What sucked you in? What repelled you, but kept you reading at the same time?

Short stories are short. But they pack an even bigger punch than a 100,000 word novel. How do they do that? We should know -- afterall, we're writers!

Have you noticed that women seem to be able to hold their own in the short story fiction arena?

Depend on your own judgment

2009-10-16T08:19:00.001-04:00

Our dependency makes slaves out of us, especially if
this dependency is a dependency of our self-esteem.
If you need encouragement, praise, pats on the back
from everybody, then you make everybody your judge. -- Fritz Perls

I'm a sucker for a good quote. I rarely remember them, but when I read them I have this 'ah-ha' moment. It is the chicken-brain syndrome. Each quote is like a seed and each one seems new and profound and I peck dilligently at it until I spy the next one and rush to it as if it were something new and delicious.

Although I don't remember quotes, they often act as catalysts to move me toward something better. Some days it doesn't pay to get out of bed. The universe conspires against us. Rejection comes from every direction. I feel invisible, nobody notices. Nobody cares. Days like these happen far too often, but I take heart in them because there is a balance in the universe as well as conspiracy. And just as awful as some days are -- others come along to balance it out. Instead of quotes, I've squirreled away a few memories of those exceptional days to keep me going. Much to my surprise many of them involve writing.

My first sale: I have this mind's snapshot of me dancing on the bed with my sleepy husband (who worked the night shift) gaping at me as I waved my first ever pay check for writing.

My first writing job: Another snapshot. This time of a paper flying out of the selectric typewriter and floating out into the newsroom after my timed writing test. It was the first time I had used a typewriter in several years. I forgot about the paper. I particularly liked the woman's face who was giving the typing test as she snatched up the page full of typing. I got the job. In a newsroom.

My first above the fold story
My first feature
My first AP award
My first $1.50 a word sale
My first anthology publication
My first acknowledgment in someone else's book
My first book review published on the back of someone else's book

And then there are the days when the words come together and no one sees or shares that moment. But I know. I KNOW how life affirming those moments are when you struggle to arrange the words, say in words what is swirling around inside of you. Find a way to communicate so others get it, really get it!

Writing has its perks -- not just in dollars and cents. But there is something especially rewarding to know that you've written something that someone else wants to purchase and share with their esteemed readers. Now, that's a good day. One to tuck into your memory bank to balance out that rejection letter coming your way.

If you're writing and sending out your work, there are bound to be rejections. Thank goodness for the balance in our universe!

But notice the photo accompanying these words -- a teeter totter requires two people or at least more than one. Writing may seem like a solitary business, but like the poet says, "No man is an island...." We need to be part of a community that will share our highs and lows and help us find our balance. A community that will make us think and grow. Laugh and groan. Share and mentor.

A. Scott Berg's advice for biographers and all writers

2009-10-14T15:08:00.001-04:00

The author, A. Scott Berg, of the Charles Lindberg biography, published in 1999, believes the biography is perhaps the most difficult form of writing. It took him 12 and a half years to write this one book.

He had mountains of notes. But after taking a year to sort through what he had amassed, he realized that most everything fit neatly into several slots and wasn’t as unmanageable as first thought.

Then, Berg said he began writing. And when he wrote his first rough draft he included everything. EVERYTHING. This, he referred to as the ‘clay’ with which he would mold the final book. But, note that he didn’t say this was anywhere near the finished product.

His first rough draft was the material from which he would eventually sculpt the biography that would appear on the New York Times bestseller list.

Berg takes his research seriously and doesn’t just look at his subject, but the world and times in which his subject lives. I think this is an important distinction between a best seller and a good book. This, in my mind, refers back to yesterday’s blog about ‘depth.’

When researching, he gets acquainted with the events and news of the day. “I think there’s so much to be learned for a biographer by reading the newspapers of the day. On each of my books I spend days, weeks at a time, reading old New York Times's, from the days things were going on. I mean obviously the day Charles Lindbergh landed in Paris and he filled the entire front section of The New York Times, there was a lot to be gained. But what about the days before that, and the days after that? What were the advertisements like? I read the real estate sections: what did an apartment, a penthouse in Manhattan cost then? What did it cost to buy a chicken for dinner? What were the other news stories going on? What was the world like in which my hero, my character walked? And I think that’s the most crucial thing we as biographers can do.”

Even if your novel is set in current times, a writer must know the landscape far beyond the little house in which her characters live. The author must understand the climate (not just the weather) and the events that shape attitudes and politics and economics and beliefs. “Just as important as getting the history right, is getting the drama right,” Berg said.

I particularly like this last bit of advice from Mr. Berg: “And I think it behooves the biographer to tell his tale as compellingly as the novelist does. Basically we are all storytellers, whether we are fiction writers or non-fiction writers or poets, we are there to tell a story. And I think that involves having prose that is highly readable and I think pulling the story along a lot of the time.”

And in case you aren't familiar with Mr. Berg, he wrote the biography of Kate Hepburn, simply titled "Kate Remembered." As for that Lindberg biography, titled what else "Lindberg." -- Berg won the 1999 Pulitzer Prize for a distinguished biography or autobiography by an American author. The award came with immeasurable acclaim as well as $5,000.

Writing with Authority: Ashley Shelby

2009-10-13T11:56:00.000-04:00

Depth.

I really appreciate depth and layers in a book. ANY book. I don't really miss it if the book has quirky characters or an original plot, or suspense or humor or great dialogue. But when I find a book with depth -- I realize then just how much I thirst for it.

No, I don't mean plodding, information-packed tombs with an attitude of "look at me, I really RESEARCHED' this book and I'm going to use every tidbit even if it kills both of us!"

I mean the books that speak with authority that I thoroughly trust and embrace and sink into with a resounding sigh. An author in whose hands I feel safe.

A couple of nights ago I finished reading Diana Gabaldon's latest book "Echo in the Bone." She's a research professor so research is her life and sadly she likes to make sure she uses every tidbit. I adore her series, her characters, and her writing style. But I don't quite trust her. She tends to sneaks unusual finding into her books -- a worm that crawls into a man's eye and swims from one to the other? True about the worm -- loa loa worms I believe. She worked them into the plot of one of her books. But it doesn't really move the story forward.

This most recent book is a bit ladened with her research. I found myself skimming through parts as if it were a text book. By the way this book seems like a tool to prepare readers for the NEXT book. So many unanswered questions here. And a real cliff hanger at the end. But I digress. I feel like Gabaldon's writing carries me along the edge of a precipice and she can't gurantee that she won't fall off and take me with her. Does that make sense? She's all over the place and although her writing is strong and steady for the most part, she isn't always consistent or trustworthy. OK, she beats up on the characters alot and that makes me nervous, too. But from one section to the next, I don't know if she'll give me what I want.

It wasn't until I picked up a new copy (to me at least) of Ashley Shelby's "Red River Rising" that I realized how much I've missed -- depth.

Here's just one example of what I am enjoying and mean by depth and authority. After a delightful paragraph about North Dakota Plains Weather, Shelby writes:

"The only thing more impressive than the weather is the good fight the people of North Dakota put up against it each year. In Grand Forks, when the Red River swells during spring thaw, people worry little and sandbag a lot. This is the way winter ends. Nature is not romantic here -- it is stark and present. Although North Dakota raises churches and monasteries in much the same way it raises Scotch Fife and Velvet Chaff wheat, even the monks know better than to ascribe the whims of nature to God. Nature is an independent force."

The author gives me details that move the story forward. I learn that nature is heartless and the people of this region stoically stand firm against it, they are farmers and they are god fearing and understand that nature is not a sign that God hates them. It is what it is. And this paragraph leads the reader toward the reason for the book -- the catastrophic flood of Grand Forks, ND, in the spring of 1997.

Now the author could have just rattled off what I wrote in the previous chapter, but she didn't. And for those who are purists about 'is' and 'was' not belonging in tightly written, quality prose -- I think Shelby shows there's a place for it. I also think that there is not one unnecessary word in that quote. Tight, informative, authoritative, beautifully crafted writing. Can you tell that it is nonfiction? She's using such great fiction techniques, but its true and she's done the research. But I don't get the feeling of 'research' but rather the assurance that she KNOWS. The author knows of what she writes.

That's what I want to do.

Rejection Hurts!!!

2009-10-12T12:56:00.000-04:00

It was a weekend filled with the sunshine of productivity. Monday came and the rejection clouds moved in.

It has been a tough year with many of my favorite markets changing their editors to someone who doesn't buy my work. Or they have reduced the number of submissions they buy or they've closed their doors. A tough, tough year. Maybe that means I should devote my time to fiction....

But still I had hopes that a personal essay I had submitted back in June and under consideration all summer, had made the cut. I sent a follow up email yesterday only to hear, "Sorry, but no...."

It was a personal and heartfelt "Sorry, but no." But it also meant that we continue to struggle without that $800 to pay off the computer we bought to replace the one zapped by lightning.

So what's the next step after rejection? Comfort food and wallowing. Wallowing in "I'm not a writer. Why did I ever think I was a writer." or "This is it, I'm done. No one wants my work...."

I look at the picture of my subversive stitchers and think about escaping to their landscape for awhile. So I jump in to the best thing one can do after a rejection -- work on a new or at least another project. And in the back of my mind I think about the NEXT market to send my little reject to. Somewhere there is a community full of friendly editors just waiting to welcome my little essay. If only I can find them....

Best rejection foods:

Potato chips and bananas
Balogna sandwich and potato chips
Potato chips -- a whole BIG bag

A picture sparks a thousand words

2009-10-11T09:25:00.001-04:00

The Subversive Stitchers have been with me in one form or another for years. They moved from the Midwest with me and took up residence on my computer in the converted dining room, now office. But they're a silent bunch. Some times I don't think they like me very much. But I so want to get to know them, learn their stories and fill my novel with their pithy life lessons and experiences and humor.

Mostly they just ignore me. I'm not the pushy sort --avoid conflict like the plague. Some would diagnose me as passive-aggressive perhaps with an emphasis on passive. But when I want something, I can be persistent -- just passive. So I've let these ladies and their men and even their children dominate me with their silence and turned backs and firmly closed mouths.

They run roughshod over my thoughts and jump into my mind at every turn, but they stand silent. Sometimes I can't even see their faces or their hands. Their hands are important since they are stitchers. But even those lay still in their laps.

Yesterday in frustration I took out my favorite Sharpie pen and a large piece of paper from my roll of craft or freezer paper and began drawing my characters. What characters they are!

Up until this rendering of the Subversive Stitchers, they had huddled together enmasse. But when my pen began to move on the paper, I drew three ovals in the center of the paper. "Of course," I said. These are the three main characters to whom all the action will flow from or around. Two more faces over here -- stitchers, but in more supportive roles. More and more circles began to appear on the paper in single file or in small groups around this original triumvirate.

From this center trio, I added more ovals to the sides of the paper, added dots for eyes, and drew lines to connect them to the individual stitchers. Rita's mother and daughter. Yes, yes. I smiled fondly at the stories they had told me and then I stopped.

Hey, when had Rita and her family joined Claire and Brett? They had been two very different families and different times and locations. Well, I'll be! Why not combine the two sets of stitchers? This had been my stumbling block for too many years. I liked both groups of characters, but couldn't figure out how to make them work. Never thought of combining them. They are so different. One a group of 'artists' and the other a group of 'housewives' -- except for Rita. Hmmmm.

I don't know if you've had this problem where characters seem to leap in your mind, tell you a little bit about themselves and then won't say any more. Or they stand in front of a brick wall and have no place to go. That was Rita and her mother and their little group of friends.

I stood contemplating this new trio and realized just how well it worked. It even added conflict! Two factions of stitchers -- why not? Held together by their love of thread and fabric. Things were heating up in my little band of antagonists.

I continued to add faces to the sides of the paper. Claire's affair with the college president. Hmmm. I looked at the face, added a couple of whisps of hair to his bald pate and contemplated whether I wanted Claire involved with this man or not. Certainly their relationship was coming to an end.... He might be useful. Just not sure how, yet. And on and on I drew. I forgot names or what the last manifestation of names I had chosen. And then I began drawing rough outlines of important locations, including the river.

As I write this I can look over at the wall next to my desk and see them staring at me. And then I realized why they are so silent -- I forgot to add their mouths! All except for Rita. She has a sunny smile. She looks like she wants to say something. Perhaps this is her story afterall.

Best Teaching Books -- The Ones You Throw Across the Room

2009-10-10T11:57:00.001-04:00

I have a whole library of books that say "How to..." in the title.

"How to Write Dialogue," or "How to Finish that First Novel," or "How to Write Like a Master!"

But the best books I have ever learned from were those I literaly threw across the room. The ones that frustrated and dithered and preached and used poor grammar and mechanics and badly BADLY needed a good and dedicated editor. These books I learn "How NOT to Write."

This lesson is just as important as all of the others.

Cyclically on a writing group of which I've been a member forever, someone brings up the old argument about rules and breaking them and 'Who says you can't use passive voice?" Are and is, be and was and have been -- all of those less than enthusiastic words seem to be forbidden in today's writings.

I worked for a fantastic editor who forbid them in our book reviews. No way. We wrote with the most appropriate verbs and every is/was/were or has been was thrown out of the window. This helped me write tighter, be more aware of verbs and understand that the proper word in the proper place works!

What our editor finally realized when she read some stellar reviews by a master was -- sometimes passive works. And I learned the true answer to that question about rules: WHEN IT WORKS!

As readers we immediately know when whatever the author is doing -- works. Or doesn't. And automatically we begin to dissect what errors were made, what they should have or could have done and why. It is harder to catch in our own work.

For ourselves, nothing helps bring the mistakes, weaknesses, errors and faults to the service than a little fermenting. This is why we're encouraged to write and then set it aside for a day, week, month, until we can see it more objectively. I tell you -- that REALLY works.

Perhaps the most inspiring aspect of those horribly written books that get published is -- they got published. Which means, as bad as we think we are, there's still hope. Just look at that drivel -- it got published -- so can I. That's a bit of lowest rung thinking, but whatever works. These books also make us shout, "I could do better than that!" And often is the kick we need to get up producing our own writings.

So my advice today -- Go out and read a bad.... No, read a HORRIBLE book today. It will inspire you to write BETTER!

Exercise: Read an opening passage (those are usually the weakest) and evaluate it. Decide what you'd do differently. Then write it!

What Themes Can You Never Forget?

2009-10-09T17:52:00.001-04:00

Quick without putting alot of thought into it, list five, no make it three things that have stuck with you from your readings. Any readings. Readings from childhood or school or newspapers. Three things! What were they?

Now think about why they've stayed with you. What about them keeps coming back and making you feel something whenever you remember? Why aren't you writing things like that?

My three:

The Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire.
Peggy Vincent's essay for Notre Dame Magazine about being part of a herd of deer
The Diary of Ann Frank -- I had nightmares for years about that. Actually almost anything Holocaust related -- especially Leon Uris's early books Exodus and Armageddon

I'll admit that I had to think a little to get to the third one. And then when it clicked I realized that it was a topic I cannot turn away from. I began reading about it as a kid -- the Holocaust, I mean. The question that haunted me then, still gives me shivers. Until I read about the atrocities, I thought humans were innately good. I was a kid; I expected people to behave and be nice and love one another or at least be courteous. Then I read of people stripping other people naked, taking their possessions, humiliating them, starving them, and then lying to them as they marched them into gas chambers and killed them en masse. My German heritage scared me -- were some of my relatives responsible? Was it in the genes? I still can't explain why anyone does what they did. I guess mob mentality is probably as close an explanation as any.

What scares me is seeing that same mentality at work in large organizations, companies, and political parties. Just because someone tells you to do something, shouldn't you call upon your morals and ethics to help you decide whether you should follow those orders? Which is more important -- your morality or your paycheck? "It's part of the job." "We must make a profit." "You must please the boss or get lost."

And I would say it is also that same mindset that brings me again and again to the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire of 1911 or thereabouts. More than 150 workers (mostly women) died in that fire -- either from the flames and smoke or from the fall from the upper story windows as they chose to jump rather than be burned up. And I thought alot about this fire during the 9-11 incidents. What a choice to be left with. Die by fire or a 20-story fall.

It seems like REALLY bad news. People screwing up and costing the lives of MANY fellow humans sticks with me. But then, when I look at number two on my all time stick-in-the-brain stories -- it is pastoral. I think of that Debussy song "Afternoon of the Faun." I think of a human's need to be part of nature and how there is nothing more enthralling when something wild trusts you or accepts you. I'm thrilled when my cat wants to sit by me. And the time of the night -- a rather magical midnight (or wee hours of the morning) and the silence. The mist. The moment, not trapped in time, but set apart or removed from the normal life flow.

So I am drawn to atrocities, human cruelties, overcoming the worst, suviving -- maybe those all fit the two choices. And I'm drawn to those moments when a person is jerked out of their normal life and they experience something mystical and life changing and take note of an epiphany, never to be quite the same ever again. That moment of grace. I'm fixated on the 'worst of times and the best of times.'

Now why in the world am I not writing these stories?

I'm fascinated to know what your list tells you. -- Dawn

Think Evergreen! Not just for Christmas

2009-10-08T11:58:00.000-04:00

Have yourself a Merry Little Christmas

.... I know, I know, it's October!

But I'm in the mood to make Christmas gifts and decorations and when my hands are involved in those kinds of projects, my mind turns also to ideas for Christmas stories and articles. Right now my other blog Subversive Stitchers: Women Armed with Needles is full of Christmas cheer as well. I just posted a few favorite projects I found around the Internet and some I've made at home. Then I went to Suite 101 and posted even more ideas for quick and fun fabric projects to make in the article I submitted today. It has been a most enjoyable morning. I may dig out my Christmas music!

October is probably the final date to submit articles and essays for December's publication. In fact, it may be too late by now. But then again, there's always next year! Evergreen articles aren't just about trees. They are timeless topics that you can recycle year after year after year after....

Just about anything holiday related can be used again and again. The piece I just posted to Subversive Stitchers will be viewed each year and will draw people to my site. The one I wrote two years ago and posted to Subversive Stitchers has gotten hits seasonally ever since. And if there is any doubt that the topic 'Christmas' has a following -- just look at the stats of my other blog -- 78 hits within minutes after I posted it today. For my little blog, that's darn good! And the numbers keep growing and growing.

All of this to say, think evergreen when you write -- whether it be fiction or nonfiction.

What's more evergreen than A Christmas Carol? We all have our favorite stories for this joyous season -- maybe you could write the next one! From baking Christmas cookies, to making stockings to the ten best ever Christmas gifts or finding romance during the holidays or -- the topics are endless.

Or maybe you should write down family memories to bring out each year and recall Christmases past. Not everything you write must be for sale. I know some of you are gasping in amazement that I of all people would say that! But I'm in a nostalgic mood, missing my babies and extended family, so I'm not thinking lucrative markets. I'm thinking of preserving memories. And well, if they turn into fodder for a lucrative market -- so much the better!

Evergeen of course is not just for Christmas stories. Any topic that is relevant year after year should be added to your repertoire of recyclable stories. Hurricanes and preparedness are oldies but goodies here in Florida. Anything about childbirth, nursing, babies, pregnancy -- definitely reusable and resalable! Just think about questions you have asked each year. What to use to clean your tile floors? Tile is sold everyday, someone is new to the upkeep and will welcome the info. How to recycle? What to recycle? Well, you get the idea.

Don't just go green, which is a very popular topic these days -- go EVERGREEN!

Facing that first draft

2009-10-07T12:17:00.000-04:00

Like all writers when I'm floundering I search for commiseration and advice. Writing fiction seems to be something I can't take seriously.

I adore fiction and want desperately to have a novel with my name on it.... Well, actually I have several with my name on them. I've written my name on the fly leaf of many, many, many. And my name has been included on several back covers along with comments stripped from my reviews of the author's little darling. And in a few my name is included in the acknowledgements -- I'm getting closer! But so far it hasn't appeared on the title page with the word 'by' in front of it!

Today I scoured the Internet for advice. Again and again I encountered: 'Get a Rough Draft Written.'

Why is that such a roadblock for me? I write three or four chapters and then stop dead in my tracks. I've either written myself into a corner or I've run out of ideas or and this is the most often encountered problem for me -- I have several directions to go and I don't know which to take and so I don't go anywhere.

Maybe this stems from my lack of compass and inability to know how to get anywhere or back again. On the road I have GPS and my Tom Tom. What do I use in a novel?

In life I take the path of least resistance. But in a novel, at least from what I've read of published works, easy is boring. Conflict -- now that's the key!

Maybe if I put more conflict in my writing, I'll have less of it in my life! Now, that's a thought.

Another thought, of course, is that November is NANOWRIMO month! Maybe that will be the perfect time for me to get that rough draft hammered out!

A good friend who has completed one novel and most of a second believes the Marshall Plan is the way to go. It doesn't matter that she hasn't sold the novels, it at least got her to finish them! Or finish a few drafts.

I think Stephen King's book on writing is probably the best I've read as far as motivation and some helpful details as well as the story of his stagger to success. Kind of depressing to think that he wrote a whole book (Cujo) while under the influence of drugs and doesn't even remember writing it. Maybe the key is finding the right drugs -- Nah! Maybe some brownies. Nah! I'd like to remember the process and know that I wrote it -- in my right mind.

So I guess I'm back to Butt in Chair!

Reading: It's Fun-damental!

2009-10-06T09:02:00.000-04:00

Reading is a major part of growing your writing. Or at least it has been for me.

I graduated high school, worked full time while taking one biology course, discovered I wasn't good at science and certainly wasn't good at handling a job and school at the same time, so I turned to tradition and married, starting our family two years later. But being a stay-at-home Mom wasn't a great fit either. Books and reading once again saved me. I say once again because as a kid, whenever things got tough at home I went next door to the library or I sequestered myself in my bedroom with a book. It wasn't high literary reading, mostly it was escapist stuff. But even at that, the more I read the more I knew. And some of what I was learning, I didn't realize, was about writing. I eventually returned to college and earned my degree -- we all know reading is a big part of any education. I did well. I particularly loved comparative studies. And all of the time I dreamed of writing my own work that someone would find worthy of buying.

I came to recognize writing that worked and definitely could spot writing that fell short. But knowing how to write it myself took more reading. This time I turned to Writer's Digest and The Writer and all manner of how-to books. Eventually I picked a publication out of the Writer's Market and sent them a manuscript. To my surprise -- they bought it.

The one thing I haven't been able to get past were my own self-doubts. But now and then something will come together and I'll know that I'm not just a hack. I'll know that I have good instincts. This week had a couple of those moments.

If you've been following this blog you know that I am writing for Suite 101, sent them an article about North Face Inc. and their lawsuits. And you'll also know that the editor didn't think it fit their criteria. But she left it on the Internet while I had a chance to think about a rewrite, which I made yesterday. In my efforts I looked at what was being written about that topic and to my surprise I discovered that I had beat the competition. I had scooped the Internet on the story! It felt good. It felt great! But the editor was still right. So I rewrote the story with a better focus and put it back out. The story would not have come about if I had not been reading.

I also maintain another blog: Subversive Stitchers: Women Armed with Needles. I adore needlework -- all kinds. Just give me fabric and thread or yarn and needles or a hook and ... I'm happy. Writing about it and inviting others to write about their own work has given me great pleasure. I saw a message on another blog that they too appreciated what I was doing. It doesn't take a six figure income to make my heart leap with joy -- someone who appreciates what I'm trying to do -- that's my kind of wealth. My Subversive Stitchers site works because I acquainted myself with all kinds of needlework, am curious about everything, and read, read, read about them all. Recently I wrote about Sashiko for Suite 101. A few years ago I had never heard of it (and no, it is not a number puzzle!).

So, I say, the greatest gift a writer can give himself or herself is time to read.

Pick a topic, any topic and research it. Surf, surf, surf. The tide is always right to surf the Internet.
Read nonfiction. Find out new facts. Fiction is also based on facts -- the more you know, the richer your writing.
Read the classics of fiction.
Read opening lines of books, think about why they work, why they don't. Think about what you would write as the next line.
Read magazines and publications you dream of writing for and think about what they need and give it to them.
Read for fun. My latest edition of Diana Gabaldon's series arrived and I'm so enjoying the exploits of Jamie and Claire. I fear that this may be a bit darker than the rest. Villains are popping out of the woodwork at every turn of page. I fear for Jamie and Claire's lives! I can't stop reading. Now, if I could just put that into my fiction.
Read everything even billboards and cereal boxes.

And while you're reading think about what is there and what is not. Why did a writer choose that word or that detail or that phrase? Why did they focus on that fact? Do you believe them? Does the story hold together? Do they write with authority? Does whatever they're doing work?

I review books and sometimes the writing is weak, sparse, lacks the sparkle that draws the reader right into the character's lives -- but sometimes that doesn't matter and I just keep reading. I just reviewed such a book. The writing was mediocre, but the storyline was alive with new information, possibilities, an exotic location, people stepping outside of their normal lives and living an experiment. The psychology of the situation was compelling. So being a master of the phrase isn't always the most important thing about writing.

Often I think writers, especially fiction writers, should take a storytelling class or work on their storytelling skills. And so I come to the secret weapon of great writers -- children's books. Read those beautifully illustrated picture books and let your imagination go wild.

Fight that whine!

2009-10-04T09:32:00.000-04:00

Alot like flu, football or baseball, whine has a seaon. It just seems to come more often. Writers seem to get it about once every week or two. Or when they receive a rejection letter.

You'll hear them utter "Who am I kidding, I'm no writer!"

The proper treatment is encouragement to 'Don't Quit!' Best treatment -- send them a copy of this poem.

A dear friend and employee at that time gifted me with a mug bearing the poem. Perhaps he knew I was considering leaving his office? Or maybe he saw that I had decisions to make and was encouraging me to stick with it, don't give up. Or maybe he had forgotten and it was a last minute gift for whatever occasion had required a gift. Knowing him, it was not the last -- he was the most organized and thoughtful man I've ever met.

So, for all of you currently in the throes of whine season or about to move into it. This one's for you.

Don't Quit

When things go wrong, as they sometimes will,
When the road you're trudging seems all uphill,
When the funds are low and the debts are high,
And you want to smile, but you have to sigh,
When care is pressing you down a bit-
Rest if you must, but don't you quit.

Life is queer with its twists and turns,
As every one of us sometimes learns,
And many a fellow turns about
When he might have won had he stuck it out.
Don't give up though the pace seems slow -
You may succeed with another blow.

Often the goal is nearer than
It seems to a faint and faltering man;
Often the struggler has given up
Whe he might have captured the victor's cup;
And he learned too late when the night came down,
How close he was to the golden crown.

Success is failure turned inside out -
The silver tint in the clouds of doubt,
And you never can tell how close you are,
It might be near when it seems afar;

So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit -
It's when things seem worst that you must not quit.

-Unknown

BUTT IN CHAIR—and Write And Read That Book!

2009-10-03T09:38:00.002-04:00

Guest Blog by Ann Hite

Many people ask me why I write so many book reviews when I could be using the time to write fiction. Sometimes I ask myself the same question. Dawn’s article, BUTT IN CHAIR—and Write, helped me answer that question.

First, I write book reviews for the books. I write for two online magazines Internet Book Review and Feminist Review that provide me books. I love books. I’m not sure which I love more, books or the act of writing. They go together for me.

Second, I write the reviews to work with the wonderful editors. They bring out my best work. Both magazines have taught me more about nonfiction writing than four years of writing classes in college.

Third, I am primarily a fiction reviewer with the occasional memoir. This has given me an edge in my own work. Taking apart a novel, really understanding the structure, has helped me with the writing of my first novel. Also, my book reviews have drawn the attention of a medium size press in New York, who requested to send their novels directly to me. By reading and reviewing fiction, I have taught myself a lot about fiction writing. It's almost like being in my own private MFA program. I can talk the talk. I know my fiction and have my local library asking me questions about new novels.

So, even though, like Dawn, I’m not receiving big checks for my efforts, I am gaining huge experience. I have a deadline and goals. Both keep me on target with my novel writing. I am building confidence in the area I love and my library has double in size. What more can I ask?

Writing Markets for Writers

2009-10-02T08:42:00.002-04:00

Markets are tightening their belts and my old standbys are not quite such standbys any more. Yet most still accept submissions, they're just pickier these days. Here are two of my favorites that you may be interested in trying.

Their pay is low, unless you think of it as an hourly wage. If it takes you an hour to write an article of 500 words about writing, then it is good money, excellent money! They are also easy to work with and seem apologetic when they must say no.

Funds for Writers a web, blog and newsletters maintained by Hope Clark not only provide good information and markets for writers, it also offers a contest and accepts submissions for articles pertaining to writing. She pays $35 for about 500 words and is looking for something 'how to' that helps writers find success in various markets. She seems to focus more on nonfiction, essays and screen writing. She recently rejected my submission with the advice that she will write the inspirational essays.
Writers Weekly a newsletter associated with Booklocker and run by Angela Hoy requests similar articles as Funds for Writers and pays a bit better. The last time I wrote for her it was $50. Here are a few examples of titles recently published.

FROM NURSING HOMES TO GRIEF SUPPORT GROUPS: ODD BUT SUCCESSFUL BOOK SIGNINGS By Kali VanBaale

Building Block Book Marketing By Sharon Elaine

"You Want Me to PAY You to Write?!" By Aline Lechaye

Creating A Promotion Target List By Diane Crave

Sometimes my quickest and best sales have resulted from simply reading a few issues of a publication and thinking, "They need an article about...." Then writing it.

Both of these women show that they support writers while also getting a bit of money from us, but their hearts are definitely in the right place. Writers Weekly newsletter is free. Funds for Writers offers a free and a paid newsletter. But even the 'paid subscription' is minimal. I recommend both sites for your reading pleasure and as a writing market.

Today, in all honesty, I will be rewriting that article I wrote about earlier in which I had such fun researching it. Apparently the editor at Suite 101 did not find it quite so fabulous and thinks it should be two separate articles, etc. etc. If anyone would care to read the article, Lawsuits Hover Around North Face Inc., and give me some feedback on it, I would be grateful.

BUTT IN CHAIR -- and WRITE!

2009-10-01T11:17:00.000-04:00

Photo: Gas Pillars in the Eagle Nebula (M16): Pillars of Creation in a Star-Forming Region

Since signing up to Suite 101 where I must write a minimum of 10 articles in three months, I feel more directed, like I've found North again. My compass has been out of whack for most of my life.

My sons were my compass -- literally. When they were mere toddlers I'd take them with me just so they could point the way I should turn, point the route I should take to get there and back again. But since my nest is now empty, I search for another touchstone, another marker that shows me where to go.

Knowing that I'm among some decent writers at Suite 101, some I know and respect, I do not want to write articles based on second or third sources. I want primary sources whenever possible. I want dependable statistics. I want to be proud of what I'm creating and know that I did my best. OK, they are never your best. As soon as something is published you find the error or the words you would tweak. But it is the best I can do at that moment. When I get lazy -- I suck it up and tell myself that this is not the time to just make do.

Since beginning the Suite 101 project, I have now earned a whopping four cents, but I have had more article ideas than I think I ever had. And I feel more confident about crafting the articles because I have an editor and a template guiding me. I'm not just a solitary figure out here in nowhereland, I'm connected, no matter how tenuously and superficially, I am connected to a supportive network of like minded writers and editors. And yes, it does remind me of the newsroom without the political intrigues.

I am doing more surfing, but I am also doing it with a narrower focus. But that doesn't mean serendipity doesn't enter into it. There's a part of me that welcomes this 'just the facts ma'am' approach to writing. And then, like this evening, someone posted a link to Hubble telescope photos and as soon as I clicked on it, a universe of possibilities opened up to me. My fiction loving 'what-if' fantasy maker kicked in and I began contemplating new facts (to me) and how they could be manipulated to make a fascinating story, conflict or yes, even a romance.

And I just may be able to use the Hubble link to write another Suite 101 article. If nothing else, I am curious again. It has been awhile since I was even curious.

Another thing that is happening -- I'm thinking markets. As I write the articles, I think of other markets that it might fit. For the first time in a long time, I want to find new markets, send out queries, and start selling my words. It feels good.

So, whatever it takes to make you write, remind you that you love this work, and help you grow, attain the next level in your writing. DO IT!

North Face meets South Butt and I'm a happy writer

2009-09-30T10:39:00.007-04:00

I had a blog all written. Maybe I'll post it tomorrow, but I have to tell you about my exciting morning. Yes, I'm working on yet another article for Suite 101 and it has been such fun!

I remember the enthusiasm in the newsroom when great breaking news came in. The kind of story you could work with. And then the motherlode -- two stories that you could put together into an even better story!

Today was a motherlode day! North Face Inc., retailer of adventure wear, shoes apparel and equipment for the climber and risk takers who like to hang off cliffs and dangle thousands of feet in the air. They've been around for 40 years and made a claim that the EPA could not tolerate. Shoes that killed bacteria. So EPA is suing North Face's parent company. You can read more about it in the article.

While surfing the EPA site and news sources for more information I came across an article stating that North Face is suing Jimmy Winkelmann for trademark infringement. Jimmy has a line of t-shirts with a 'South Butt' logo. I think North Face should win their suit, but who knows. Anyway, my excitement has nothing to do with any of these people and their suits, but out of the fun I just had mingling the two stories into one of my own: Law Suits Hover Around North Face Inc., which is available for your enjoyment at Suite 101.

Today the synchronicity was dancing all around me and I'm so pleased to be able to combine the two related but diverse stories. I love irony and humor and the unusual and when I can put them all into a staid old story about an EPA lawsuit -- its a happy day.

Writers who find a relationship for the unrelated, or find two sides of a story that turns it into something very different should put Butt in Chair and not stop writing until the article, story, essay is finished! They don't just fall in your lap. Sometimes it takes some searching. Knowing how to use keywords and which sites to cover help, but then again, sometimes it does just appear on the screen and you hear angels sing.

Today's Exercise: Search keywords, maybe a company name and see what comes together. Or pick a topic you know nothing about and learn something new today.

Writing when you’re stuck

2009-09-29T11:41:00.008-04:00

Bob has been a voice of reason and inspiration on the Internet Writing Workshop for several years and has demonstrated with his writing success that he knows whereof he speaks. I welcome his guest blog and great advice. I hope you will, too. --Dawn

If you’re not a professional writer, then writing is one of those activities you wedge into your day when you can.

My friend Patty used to get up at 4 or 4:30 every morning to work on her novel until her husband and children got up. Then she would get herself ready for a full day’s work as a bank officer, come home to cook supper, then dash off to school committee meetings. Patty’s writing friends admired her, but we never wanted to emulate her.

Others keep saner schedules but set aside specific times for writing and perhaps specific quotas of words. Still others put writing on their to-do list or simply get to it when they can.

If you accomplish everything on your list, you have imposed a sense of order on your world (or your list is too short). Writing is usually one of the items on my list, but often it has no special priority and gets done after the daily errands or not at all.

Email is one of the great interrupters, followed by Twitter. I always marveled at the great advantage of email that we can write each other at any time, and we can read your messages at any time. But if that’s the case, why do I feel the compulsion to check for messages a hundred times a day? Maybe it’s a need for affirmation that there’s a cyber-someone who thinks I’m important.

Yesterday I decided to abandon Twitter and my 750 or so “followers.” It had seemed like a good venue to advertise my books, but in fact it’s a tsunami of trivia with little of value floating by. Simply checking out the invitations to follow others takes up time better spent writing.
This morning I determined to finish my monthly Southwest Senior column about Las Cruces writers before looking at my email once. While it wasn’t difficult, it did require a conscious decision on my part to disturb an ingrained habit. Now it’s finally done.

Now suddenly there is a vacuum in my schedule. It won’t last, of course. A jumble of jobs both worthy and unworthy of my time will try to fill the void, and eventually they will do just that. For now, though, my office is silent but for the hum of the hard drive. Even my neighbor’s dog isn’t barking—is she all right?

This should be the time when my fingers fly, pausing only occasionally to let the keyboard cool down. So why am I staring at the screen, waiting for the thoughts to come? Can it be that literary bête noir, writers’ block? Maybe I should stop for lunch and think about it.

That raises a question, though: What do you do when you’re stuck?

One trick that’s worked for me is to open a new file and write about the problem. In a draft of a novel I’d write a note to myself: This is the character and this is the situation, and now I don’t know what to do with him. He can’t just hang around, but has to earn his keep by advancing the story. Think about what the character wants and about possible roadblocks. Maybe your hero is having it too easy, in which case it’s high time for an unwelcome event. What if he wins the lottery? Think about the possibilities: he suddenly has too many friends or loses them all; he hosts a party where someone O.D.’s; he becomes a target for criminals. Meanwhile, all he ever wants is to retire and build houses for Habitat for Humanity.

In other words, if you get stuck that’s a good time to brainstorm. Ask yourself “What if?” and see where the answers take you. The event doesn’t have to be disastrous or even negative, but it should keep the story from moving in a straight line.
Now if you’ll excuse me, there’s a knock at my door. I’ll be right back…

Bob Sanchez writes from Las Cruces, New Mexico. Visit his blog. Bob is the author of When Pigs Fly (an iUniverse Star book) and Getting Lucky, associate editor and webmaster of The Internet Review of Books, active in the El Paso Writers' League, Mesilla Valley Writers, and the Internet Writing Workshop.

Newsroom addiction and Suite 101

2009-09-28T08:28:00.006-04:00

It has been more than a decade since I wrote to deadline in a newspaper room. I have missed it. The controlled chaos is addictive. And knowing before the whole community what's going on -- well, I loved that, too. And working in a newsroom is such great training for working as the parent of young children. With everyone working elbow to elbow in an open workspace, phones ringing, conversations carried out in the aisle behind you, editors yelling, emergency radios blaring. And the scent of coffee and newsprint -- its my kind of garden oasis. Yet, I didn't think I missed it at all.

I've been freelancing forever. Since 1981 when I wrote and sold my first story to Bluegrass Unlimited and love the freedom. And I get lost in the words when writing personal essays and fiction.

But recently I decided to join Suite 101 and see if I could make a little more money online with a market I could perhaps control a bit better than submitting to magazines and newspapers and then waiting, waiting, waiting, for a response.

This past weekend I finally sat down and wrote my first article: American Trash. It took me awhile to settle on the topic and then narrow the subject, then I found a primary source of great information and went to work. It was such fun! And I've decided that it is the first in a series of articles about waste management, environmental impacts, etc.

Whether Suite 101 comes through and actually proves to be added income for me, I have already received a bonus I never expected. As I worked and crafted those 500 words of verified information and facts, I felt a new energy. Who knew I missed delivering 'news' to the populus so much? I didn't. And I didn't realize how much I missed that newsroom. For a few moments there I could smell the coffee and newsprint and hear the voices swirling around me.

I just visited Suite 101 and saw my article posted under their 'Recently Recommended' heading. It's almost as exciting as getting my story on the front page above the fold! I appreciate any and all feedback on my first article.

What Is Writing To You?

2009-09-27T05:12:00.000-04:00

Exactly one month ago I would have answered that question in this direct way:

"Writing is the air I breathe. Publishing short stories and essay aren’t enough.
I have to publish a book soon or people won’t believe I am a successful writer.
Writing is who I am."

Ah, but in five minutes everything can change drastically.

It was August 26, 2009, another hot day here in Atlanta. Ella, my nine year old, and I had walked home from her robotics team meeting. She talked about the homework she had and how unfair it was. I told her that was how life could be sometimes. My mind was on my novel in-progress and how I never had enough time to write. I was hoping to get in a few pages before bedtime. At home Ella did her homework, while I checked my email and wrote a couple of pages on the novel. Life was so normal. When she was finished, she asked to go play next door—we live on a cul-de-sac. I agreed never taking my eyes from the screen.

A few minutes later I stopped and decided to check on her. The back of our house faces the neighbor’s yard, so I opened the door and saw her playing under the carport with the two boys. Life was good.

I closed the door, picked out supper ingredients and went to turn the TV to the local news. Five minutes had passed. I saw the four year old boy from next door walking through my yard. I sighed. He liked to come over and borrow Ella’s toys. I answered the door.

“Ella’s in trouble with the police.” He smiled.

I laughed. “Tell her to come home. It’s almost time to eat.” I guessed they were playing some sort of game.

I closed the door, but something told me to go the back door, the very door I had opened five minutes earlier. When I opened it this time, I saw a police officer squatting on the side of the road.

Writing those words still paralyze me. I knew something horrible had happened.

The two images that remain with me even now are the police officer squatting—I couldn’t see my daughter, only the back of his blue uniform and dark hair—and one of her sandals with the strap broken turned over in the middle of the road. Believe me I was living every parent’s nightmare. Ella had be struck by the police officer’s car. There had been no noise loud enough to give me a warning, no squealing tires.

So what does all this have to do with writing? Stay with me I have a point.

I spent the next three hours talking to my daughter. She was awake, alert, but very afraid and in bad pain. Around me were crowds of EMTs, police, family, and neighbors. But my life contained only my daughter, who would be ten in three days. Ten. Please let her become ten! I held her hand and talked while I spoke to God in my mind. Helicopters swarmed above us, the news stations. My husband arrived, answering questions I could not answer. And then we were on our way to the hospital by ambulance. I realized maybe it wasn’t so bad. They didn’t life-flight her.

When the doctor told us two hours later that Ella had a mild concussion, a deep cut to the eye, and badly bruised knee, my legs went weak. For the first time I cried.

“She can go home. Just watch her. No sports, running, or jumping for a month.” Then the doctor smiled. “Looks like you’ll have that birthday party on Saturday.”

In that moment I saw my life in a crystal clear light.

In the days to come, I couldn’t write. Honestly I wasn’t sure I’d ever write again. Did it matter? The drive with which I pushed to the computer everyday; did it change anyone’s life? Did it make a difference? I spent hours just sitting next to Ella. This really bugged her at times, but she put up with me. I couldn’t sleep without seeing the haunting images of the accident. Yet, Ella was alive, and I had a chance to really make my life count for something, to show her how living life was done.

A few more days passed and finally I opened my journal and began to write. I wrote about writing. I knew that all my struggles to be ‘successful’ were not as important as putting my pen to the paper. I would give myself to writing whether I ever published another piece again. I would have fun. I would give a voice to all my concerns, to those people in my past that could no longer speak for themselves. I would continue to write books whether I published them or not. I would honor the characters that popped up in my head, whether they were marketable or not. My writing is my gift, talent and from this grows my passion. Life is about passion.

Funny thing is since I made this shift in attitude, doors have opened. I have two publishers interested in my novel. I’ve published several short stories, and I’m reviewing books, by request, for a New York publisher. I have to believe that relaxing into my art—because it is art—has cleared the way. I now spend more time enjoying my writing, having fun for the sake of fun. I’ve agreed to teach an after school reading class at Ella’s school once a week. I joined a book club. I now know that my books will be published. I might not know when or with what publisher, but it will happen, and that’s fine with me. You see, I look at my family and realize how fragile life is.

What is writing to you? Is writing your only identity? Would you write just for fun? Is it something you wish after but can’t seem to put your hands around? Do you defeat your chances by never writing yucky first drafts?

Take it from a writer who learned the hard way. Success is never enough. Each publication just sets the bar higher. To enjoy writing, you must put the business part to the side for another time. It cannot be the most important goal in your dream.

You must find joy in writing, in creating characters that come to you in the middle of the night and radically change your plot. You must be willing to write the worst dribble in the world and have fun doing it. Many writers are successful and don’t enjoy their work. Life is too short.

What is writing to me, now? It is my art, just one of the many things that make me the woman I am.

What is writing to you?

Bio: Ann Hite's Beautiful Wreck, my second novel, was a semi-finalist in the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Contest earlier this year. The novel is now being shopped by her agent.

In May of 2008 she was chosen as featured artist for The Dead Mule, a literary magazine. They published 18 of her selected Black Mountain Stories. Then Val, the editor and founder, had an idea to make a pdf out of the collection to give to the readers. Please feel free to go to this link and download the collection. It's free, no strings attached, only thanks for all your support.

And I wish to thank the Academy....

2009-09-26T21:11:00.004-04:00

The Fortnight of Mustard graciously nominated me for the Kreative Blogger Award. Thank you for the honor!

Seven things about me:

1. I have ink in my veins.
2. I used to decorate wedding and novelty cakes.
3. I've been married almost as long as man has been in outer space.
4. I collect notebooks and paper. The ruled college type paper.
5. I'm a sucker for a British accent.
6. Cats rule!
7. I'm addicted to fabric art and adore the artists that create such amazing art.

I nominate:

1. The Bitchy Stitcher
2. Paper Perks
3.The Matchbook
4. Sisters in Stitches
5. Studio 78 Notes
6. Meet Your Muse
7.Kelly Corrigan

Here are the rules:
1. Thank the person who nominated you for this award.
2. Copy the logo and place it on your blog.
3. Link to the person who nominated you for this award.
4. Name 7 things about yourself that people might find interesting.
5. Nominate 7 Kreativ Bloggers.
6. Post links to the 7 blogs you nominate.
7. Leave a comment on each of the blogs letting them know they have been nominated.

Mediocre writing sells!

2009-09-26T08:43:00.007-04:00

If you tell yourself, "My writing is only mediocre. I'll never write a best seller."

Take heart!

You may already be writing up to the standards of such best selling authors as Dan Brown and Ken Follett.

Have you read their books?

Dan's latest just hit bookstores with a resounding bang of success. Yes his writing gets lambasted by just about every writer, editor, and reviewer out there. But I don't hear many fiddling or muttering about his plots and storylines. And I've heard very little against the research and facts that twist and mold into something just a bit off kilter enough to make readers sit back and wonder just how close to the truth he could be.

I don't suppose it hurts to have Tom Hanks star in movies based on your books....

And have you read Ken Follett's two big sellers -- big in several ways. Hefty tombs in their own right. So weakly written I wanted several times to throw them across the room. Or more accurately to weep for what could have been if he'd only had an editor to whip him into shape.

He's been writing for decades, churning out best sellers forever, but I'm wondering how? If his suspense thrillers read like his last two.... But evidently that's not a deal killer!

Have you seen an editor's take on Dan Brown's first chapter? I'm not sure I agree with the editing that was done. He changed the voice to sound more like a formula romance than an action suspense novel. The editor's words got in the way. Although Brown's bare bones writing sometimes (often) gets redundant and inadequate, it leaves room for the reader's imagination to enrich it. Brown's phrases convey without inflating their little egos or demanding to be admired for the turn of a phrase rather than a plot twist. So there's something to be said for simple writing.

Ken Follett has such a rich story, so beautifully researched, but the writing lacks the richness of the story itself. Like a toddler learning to walk, awkward phrases and vast understatements, and sparse almost amateur sentence structures wobble along from page to page. But the details, the history of a fascinating time, the architecture, the interweaving of lives kept me reading despite the inadequate delivery. Follett much more than Brown left me nearly desolate with a yearning for what could have been.

So again I say, "Take Heart!" If you have a fascinating story line, plot twists that will start a cult following, and characters whom readers can't resist, mediocre writing may be all it takes to get your novel on the best seller's list.

Today's Exercise: Pick a favorite author, any author and edit a page or two. Or take an opening line, borrow it as the opening line of your own story. That's right, write your story based upon that line. It is amazing how much a great opening line can elevate your own writing.

2009-09-25T08:00:00.005-04:00

"Largest ever hoard of Anglo-Saxon gold found in Staffordshire
First pieces of gold were found in a farm field by an amateur metal detector who lives alone on disability benefit" -- Headline in Guardian newspaper Sept. 24, 2009 (Photo from Guardian)

If that doesn't give writers hope, then you're beyond hope. Just when I thought there was nothing new under the sun. Nothing more to be unearthed, discovered, revealed, this impoverished man living in public housing supported by government disability funds trips over not only the most lucrative treasure find in decades. But it is also another piece of history, from a dark era from which little has been salvaged.

Shades of King Arthur send me into paroxysms of fantasy and 'what if.' Just one find like this reminds me that there are still treasures hidden in our world. They have not all been found. Sadly it seems that treasure hunting and exploration and discovery doesn't get much attention. Headlines are reserved for some politician cheating on his wife and running off to Argentina or whether the government is legislating death squads. Or whether politicians are good dancers.... But legitimate archaeology, exploration or research never get past page 20. Unless, like this situation the least likely person makes the most extravagant find. Truly this is the fodder for fiction. And any fiction writer worth his salt has already begun at least one short story or novel or scene based upon this event.

Once in a decade a writer comes along who finds the mother lode in writing just as Terry Herbert found it in metal detecting. Of course J.K. Rowling comes to mind. These events prove that there is much out there yet to be mined. And, it doesn't take high tech or geniuses to make them happen. Everyday people. A teacher, a man down on his luck. Why not you? Why not me?

The one ingredient we need to add to our writing tools -- HOPE! Renew it each day. Focus on feeding it. For, when hope is gone creativity dries up.

How to grow hope?

1. I hate to channel Dr. Norman Vincent Peale, but he's right -- hope grows in a positive environment. THINK POSITIVELY -- it has power.

2. Write. Write for yourself. If your work isn't selling, so what. Just write. Write something that makes you happy and pushes you into a realm where you feel your creativity growing.

3. Challenge yourself to delve into strange and wacky combinations. Lewis Carroll gave a rabbit a pocket watch. A whole story was written around a princess who had a pea in her mattress. And another woman asked what if there was a wizarding school....

4. Read children's books. I keep repeating that Click, Clack, Moo by Doreen Cronin makes me laugh and jump starts my imagination. With a little juxtaposition, perhaps the pieces of your next great piece of writing will fall into place. And when my imagination is charged, hope grows exponentially.

5. Keep your mind and eyes open. Read and listen and learn whatever you can. Study things new to you. Grow your mind and your hope with it.

6. Look around you at the things you take for granted. There's a story there. Jane Austen recognized the value of everyday life.

There are still new ideas. There are still stories left untold. There are still treasures -- whether in gold or in words -- to be discovered. Why not you? Why not me?

Exercise: Pick a family photo. Maybe of your mother and her siblings. Look at the way they stand. The distance between them. The body language. Arms folded? Arms around each other? Look at their clothes, their hair, their faces. They setting. Lesson One: What do you learn from this photo about the people in it. Tell us their story. Lesson Two: Practice your descripition technique. Describe this group and give them personalities and depth just from the description.

I'm seeing a pattern or maybe I just need new glasses

2009-09-24T08:04:00.005-04:00

Fiction writing has not revealed itself to me as an easy gig.

I think it involves a great deal more of ME than any other form of writing. I not only craft the words, but I invest my feelings and thoughts and life into it. Woven in each bit of fiction is a piece of the author, or many pieces of the author. The cliche of opening a vein and bleeding onto the page is not unfounded. But that alone is not enough to sustain a piece of fiction no matter how short or long.

There is a factual side of fiction that people don't tell you about when spouting "Once upon a time in a little hamlet by the sea...." The author must know what a hamlet is, are they located by the sea, who lives in hamlets, what era do most hamlets reside in, and just what are the economics of such a place? Is it an impoverished fishing village or a lucrative touristy place or a bastion of old money or a health resort complete with mineral springs? And you as the author, do you have enough facts to convince the reader to suspend disbelief and follow you into your ummm hamlet?

If nothing else, a fiction writer must be knowledgeable. And it certainly doesn't hurt that they are adept at research.

Yesterday's post by Mr. Cooper gives me hope; but when I look at his bio, I get a little queasy. He's not just a writer, that is only his most current occupation. Before that he graduated from Harvard, became a doctor, ran a practice before getting into the business side of pharmaceuticals . He even majored in archaeology and went on digs.

Where I come from just accomplishing one of those things would be enough success for a lifetime. OK, where I come from a good price at the co-op on a corn and soy bean harvest is a rousing success. My point (and there is one!) is that he KNOWS things and he's trainable. Boy is he trainable. The same goes for my dear, dear Diana Gabaldon.

Before 'trying her hand' at fiction and writing the lucrative Outlander series, she was a college professor, research professor at that, had run a successful computer software business and wrote research papers, technical texts and yes even Disney comic books before bringing all of her knowledge to her fiction.

Although her books are fiction with a paranormal element, romance and history all woven into each oversized tomb, they ring with authority. She doesn't just have the main character, Claire, perform surgery to repair a hernia. She gives this hernia a medical name and then proceeds with such insightful detail that you know this author has done her homework and gotten it right. I question sometimes whether she also went to medical school. She doesn't just mention the bones of the hand she calls them by their proper medical names. And she is consistent throughout, offering not just the bare basics that everybody knows. No, she raises the content to a level where each chapter brings new opportunities to learn something. Being weak in science, I appreciate the way she uses natural laws and other scientific facts to make things real.

I will (hesitantly) admit to a background in romance reading and there is one thing that I and a whole community of readers want to take away from these reads. Yes of course we want a satisfying relationship story. And yes we like to escape. But we also want to LEARN something.

Facts, no matter what type of fiction rely heavily on getting the facts right. Great fiction teaches the reader something.

And that's the pattern I'm seeing. Fiction done right isn't about fantasy or make believe -- it is about an author sharing a truth that the reader needed to know -- whether she knew of that need or not. The more subtle the message, the better. Pound me over the head with the author's message and I'll slam the book shut. But show me the message through a character's life and you've succeeded.

Perhaps that was the appeal of Pilgrim's Progress back in the day. Or even Jonathan Swift's memorable essay "A Modest Proposal." Or even today's most read books, yes even Dan Brown. He may not have the most literary writing style, but he can tell a story, and he can throw facts into a story that sends people into a tizzy. One of the reasons I enjoy movies like "National Treasure" is because it is so strongly rooted in facts.

As a writer -- we gotta know the facts -- whether we write fiction or nonfiction. Research, knowledge, life experience are key to success. It isn't just write what you know -- it is know what you write. And give it to me in detail. Which brings another cliche to mind. But I don't think the 'devil' is in the details. I think the six figure advance is in the details.

Site of the Day: Intute helps find the best websites for study and research and much (if not all) are free.

Glenn Cooper: success story by skill and by chance

2009-09-23T14:52:00.009-04:00

Glenn Cooper's bio reminds me of another great writer: the late Michael Crichton. Although in comparing lists of accomplishments, Crichton looks like a slacker. But even over achievers find good timing plays an important part in their successes and Mr. Cooper is no exception. Author of Secret of the Seventh Son with a sequel to be released in 2010, Mr Cooper has written an original blog (not seen anywhere else) just for us.

I'm so pleased to share this forum with novelist Glenn Cooper. -- Dawn

Glenn Cooper in his own words:

When Dawn asked me to guest blog I had a look at her site, saw that it was dedicated to two of my favorite subjects, synchronicity and writing, and couldn’t refuse, could I?

As an author in the midst of a rather startling debut phase of his career, I’m new enough to the world of publishing to tell any aspiring writer: it CAN happen to you. It’s not easy, the odds are against you but if your work ethic and talent match your aspirations, then climb into the ring and let synchronicity work its old black magic.

Here’s my story, with a heavy emphasis on the synchronicity angle. My day job was in medicine and biotechnology. Days and weekends were for writing, and juggling family things, of course. Sound familiar to your situation? For 20 years I wrote screenplays, sold a few, had one produced as an indie film which was great, but hardly a writing career.

A couple of years ago I had an idea for a project about fate and predestination – a thriller, and began it as a screenplay. Fate and predestination! The seeds of synchronicity. After five pages I thought it would make a better novel – but I’d never written one of those. Hmmm.

Cut To: one year and 110,000 words later and I had a completed manuscript. LIBRARY OF THE DEAD. I thought it was pretty good (but I always convince myself my stuff is pretty good) so I got one reader who knew me and one who didn’t and both of them thought it was swell. Emboldened, I set out on the dreaded task: finding a literary agent.

First stop – find a book on finding agents!

Second stop – write a query letter.

Third stop – ignore the advice in the book about sending them out in manageable bunches and blast away with 66 queries.

Fourth stop – wait for the rejections.

Except ONE. Yes, one in 66 said yes, and here’s where synchronicity comes in. This was a very good agency with a brand new agent who had just lost his marketing position at a major publishing house following a merger and consolidation. Jobless, he decided to try his lot at agenting, specifically tasked with looking for thrillers with fresh angles. So, if two publishers hadn’t merged and this fellow hadn’t been prodded to the agency side and he hadn’t staked out thrillers as his turf and I hadn’t queried just as he was finding his desk, then everything else that followed wouldn’t have happened.

Within a month the deals started to roll in. First the UK at a hot auction which Random House won. Then auctions in Germany, France, Spain, Italy. Then a US deal with HarperCollins, then a total of 28 translations in over 40 countries!

The book, published as LIBRARY OF THE DEAD internationally and SECRET OF THE SEVENTH SON in the US has been a top-ten bestseller all over Europe, the debut novel of the year in Italy and has sold over 500,000 copies so far and counting. And I now have four thrillers under contract and have left my day job.

And here’s the kicker. Shortly after making my deals, my synchronicity agent decided on another career path and left the agency! So, having intersected with him at the right time and place for both of us, I plunged back into the water to snag a really, really famous agent who rejected me the first time around and I’m now his client.

The moral of the story? Don’t give up. Trust yourself and trust fate to do its fickle thing. You might not succeed. Not everyone does. But you surely will not succeed if you don’t keep trying to write and make connections. Writing and synchronicity.

Glenn Cooper

Don't put off til tomorrow, what you can do today

2009-09-23T08:45:00.008-04:00

One of the most tragic things I know about human nature is that all of us tend to put off living. We are all dreaming of some magical rose garden over the horizon--instead of enjoying the roses that are blooming outside our windows today.-- Dale Carnegie

A few years ago I took a tour of an Old Florida theme park -- Cypress Gardens. It has fallen on hard times, closed, since I was there. But I remember growing up and thinking it was paradise and the one place I wanted to visit. I might have been influenced by my cousin who was a world traveler compared to me. She'd been there. She'd watched the ski show. She could even water ski. Me. I could read.

It only took me 40 years to get to Cypress Gardens. And it was just as magnificent as I had thought it would be -- more so. The banyan tree bigger (well, it had 40 years more of growth!) and the topiary garden pictured here absolutely magnificent. And I realized that Cypress Gardens wasn't just my dream destination. It was also someone's dream become reality.

Cypress Gardens began as Dick Pope's dream and became a premiere promotion for water skiing. "Founded in 1936 by Dick and Julie Pope, Cypress Gardens was a showcase for Central Florida and paved the way for other parks such as Disney and Universal to follow. Under his guidance, the beautiful botanical gardens became the backdrop for beautiful belles and peaceful boat rides, as well as many movies and thousands of advertising campaigns over the years. Familiar Starlets who have walked our paths include: Betty Davis, Johnny Carson, Carol Burnett, Esther Williams and Elvis to name just a few. Proclaimed the Water Ski Capitol of the World, Cypress Gardens became the birthplace of performance water skiing in 1941. " By the time I knew what it was in the 1960s, it was an internationally famous destination.

My little pea brain wouldn't know where to begin to create such a place, how to pull it together and make it work, market it, keep it open and welcoming and all the other things that such a venture requires. But then, that isn't true is it. I could write a fiction world. My own fiction dream of Cypress Gardens or whatever destination I can dream.

Then again, in fiction the facts must be there. I should be able to grasp the rudiments of running such a place. So fiction writers must be magnificent researchers. And we must make readers believe the fiction right along with the facts.

My point, a bit obscure I suppose, is that big ventures begin small. J.K. Rowling began with paper and pencil and a curiosity for magic and 'what if'. Mr. Pope started with a vision of a garden fronting onto a lake where his kids liked to swim and ski. He and his 'garden' influenced a cartoonist who eventually created Disney World. Even Dale Carnegie, quoted above, began simply with his belief and experiences. He shared them with others and generations later he's still an icon.

We can begin the same way these people and others have begun. But as another mover and shaker and genuinely nice guy who died too early said: "Whatever you want to do, do it now.There are only so many tomorrows." --Michael Landon

Today's Tip: Timed Writings get the creative juices flowing. Take 10 minutes, no make it 20, and just type. Don't craft, don't censor, just write whatever flows into your head, then sit back and relish the nuggets you mined from your own mind.