tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5985442785625952932024-02-02T13:11:38.889-08:00A Life In StoriesA life is comprised of stories--some big, some small, but all important. I just happen to make some of the stories up...and the people in the stories...and the worlds in which the stories are set. Then I write the stories down. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08252890741829487017noreply@blogger.comBlogger87125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-598544278562595293.post-57041062726254202562014-07-01T10:02:00.001-07:002014-07-01T10:02:46.220-07:00The Quiet Grace of a Forced ReprieveLast year was The Summer of the Move. The first part of the year seemed to be shaping up into The Year of the Medical Maladies. However, (knock on wood) things seem to be settling down a bit, so I am hopeful that the remaining part of the year will be known as The Year I Finished My Novel.<br />
<div class="wp-caption alignleft" style="width: 603px;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://terrizellerwallace.files.wordpress.com/2014/07/unnamed.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" target="_parent"><img alt="Image" height="320" id="i-715" src="https://terrizellerwallace.files.wordpress.com/2014/07/unnamed.jpg?w=593&h=795" width="238" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Where I sit and write...or at least thing about writing.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="wp-caption-text" style="text-align: left;">
</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
While recovering from surgery, I wrote. A lot. That is the good thing about writing, even if you are unable to move around much–as long as you brain is fairly clear and your fingers function–you can work on stories. Depending on the amount of pain medication the doctor prescribed, there may be a bit more revising that normally required, but at least you can work toward your word count.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
The novelization of The Collector is progressing. I hate to speculate on an estimated draft date, because every time I do that Life explodes all over my meticulously crafted spreadsheet and then days pass without pen being put to page. No, it seems that I do better when I try not to tempt fate. When I write quietly, sneaking in words when no one is looking, <span style="text-decoration: underline;">that</span> is when I make real progress.<br />
<br />
If you notice my relative quiet on Facebook and Twitter, it is because I am adding words towards my story rather than into the ether. If days, or a week, or even two (ahem) pass without a blog post, it is because a plot point has suddenly become clear, or a character needs my attention.<br />
I go to sleep thinking about the story, and I wake up with snippets of dialogue in my head. I drive to work plotting out scenes, and I spend my lunch typing them out. It is a comfortable kind of routine, and it is yielding progress.<br />
<br />
However, truth be told, I am grateful for the forced reprieve of the past few weeks. I am blessed with amazing friends, a good surgeon, and a family that repeatedly humbles me with their love and dedication. My husband and kids have taken such good care of me, and my mom and dad have surrounded me with love and prayers. Yes, I am definitely blessed.<br />
<br />
Nothing like a cancer scare to make you reassess and prioritize things.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08252890741829487017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-598544278562595293.post-47525540882915854202013-09-27T08:11:00.002-07:002013-09-27T08:11:36.623-07:00Things that Did Not Happen this Summer (and Some Things that Did)I did not fall off the face of the Earth. Neither did I get kidnapped, develop amnesia, or have my laptop stolen (knock wood). However, I <em>did</em> have a summer so filled with change that it resulted in me publishing, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Collector-ebook/dp/B00DYEHELW/ref=cm_cr_pr_pb_t" target="_blank">The Collector</a>, the first in a short story series. It also resulted in my family selling our house and moving! And about a week ago, I was informed that my short story "A Sort of Homecoming" would be included in <a href="http://sparkanthology.org/" target="_blank">Spark: A Creative Anthology</a>, Vol. IV (due out in January 2014). With my list of publications growing, I decided that this would be a good time to get my on-line house in order and make a move. If you are interested in continuing with me on my journey, you can follow me <a href="http://terrizellerwallace.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">here.</a> <br />
<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08252890741829487017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-598544278562595293.post-84838540633615172762013-07-17T07:53:00.002-07:002013-12-20T07:13:18.482-08:00How I Learned Humility...the Power of FriendsMy forty-first birthday is later this week, and I realized that I had still done nothing courageous. Sure, I had been writing, and I got a few short stories sold/published, and I had written more articles than I care to recall, but I had not done anything BIG. I felt like I was running out of time. So, on a whim (yeah, whims do tend to spur me to action), I went ahead and did something scary; I took one of my short stories, "The Collector," and I put it up on Amazon. <br />
<br />
It takes about twelve hours for a story to show up in the Amazon store, so I couldn't immediately chicken out. I was in limbo. So, I waited. The next morning, after a fitful night's sleep with nightmares involving typos and missing text, I woke up around 4 a.m. and headed to the computer. <br />
<br />
There it was.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Collector-ebook/dp/B00DYEHELW/ref=cm_cr_pr_pb_t" target="_blank"><img alt="The Collector" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitSaFJYlaByMWy2BPHMsp9lkF2BSPNVFIudG99LJjLVJ9NwE6qAPubH7zspLyvThu2XcG8FzyWi6OJDQ_F_v-OD2xrT0TIWmnfttTCP1jGOPtMKdLz2PflDugt4J5RngzAvkB-lAzU7XCB/s320/The+Collector+-+High+Resolution.jpg" title="" width="200" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Collector-ebook/dp/B00DYEHELW/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1374071914&sr=1-2&keywords=terri+wallace" target="_blank"></a> </div>
<br />
<br />
I resisted the urge to take it down before anyone saw it. (Um...yeah. That would kinda defeat the purpose!)<br />
<br />
I went to work as usual, but I didn't mention this act of insanity right away. By lunch time, however, I started to let people in on what I had done. The reaction was immediate...fierce...and humbling. <br />
<br />
Within a few hours, the Facebook share-fest had begun. Friends, and friends of friends, and then people I didn't even know where sharing links to my story. Soon, a review had been posted on Amazon. Some friends pinned my book cover on their Pinterest page. Others tweeted about the story. Every repost, retweet, and email was appreciated. All the messages and calls meant <em>so much</em>!<br />
<br />
More than once I thought about <a href="http://www.ted.com/talks/amanda_palmer_the_art_of_asking.html" target="_blank">Amanda Palmer.</a> I thought about how vulnerable it makes you feel to put a piece of yourself out into the world, about how hard it is to ask for help, but how vital it is that we DO share, and we DO ask. <br />
<br />
So, I am asking. If you have not read "The Collector," please take a minute to download it. It is a short read (less than 6,000 words) that combines Southern Gothic and Horror. It is part <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/0451167805" target="_blank">Firestarter</a> and part <a href="http://www.amazon.com/s?ie=UTF8&page=1&rh=i%3Aaps%2Ck%3Afried%20green%20tomatoes%20book" target="_blank">Fried Green Tomatoes</a>, or at least that is what it feels like to me. Read it for yourself, and let me know what you think. Leave a comment, send me an email, write a review on Amazon, or on your blog. Share the story with others. <br />
<br />
"The Collector" is the first in a collection of stories. <em>When ten year old Junie Rae Campbell wakes up in the parking lot of a seedy motel, and her mother is found dead inside, she has no choice but to go with the social worker who comes to collect her and take her to the tiny, sun-baked Oklahoma town of Crankston’s Landing to live with Granny Enid. But when lies and lechery threaten Junie and the people she has latched onto, secrets are exposed, untapped abilities reemerge…and a weapon for vengeance is born.</em><br />
<br />
If you want to find out more about Junie Rae, you can <a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Collector-ebook/dp/B00DYEHELW/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1374071914&sr=1-2&keywords=terri+wallace" target="_blank">buy the story here.</a> If you don't have a Kindle, you can still download the story to your computer, or read it on your phone with the <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/feature.html/ref=dig_arl_box?ie=UTF8&docId=1000493771" target="_blank">free Kindle Reader App</a> for phones and tablets. If your budget is strained but you have Amazon Prime, feel free to borrow the story from the Amazon's Kindle Owner's Lending Library. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08252890741829487017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-598544278562595293.post-89201065679275450622013-07-15T18:53:00.000-07:002013-07-15T18:53:12.785-07:00Well, (gulp!) I did it...I uploaded my short story "The Collector" to Amazon. It should be available in about 12 hours. Until then, I plan on alternating between feelings of exhilaration and nausea. I will let you know which one finally wins... <br />
<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08252890741829487017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-598544278562595293.post-17129209479678893322013-05-30T21:48:00.004-07:002013-05-30T21:49:29.108-07:00A Storm, Reading Aloud, and the Inevitable Oopsies.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLNBds3suxJEFZ3lvYfcMqBX8x3_Zi94b1gWf9ko42vP7E97hwTh5c630jXSyoQK1xSaykA8NAMDzo1MyaNRklNpkBxgQ9v60gCL9Kygl9Z_hdqnFYPB1fipPCu-UK-s64Ohuq7HdV5wai/s1600/tornado.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="118" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLNBds3suxJEFZ3lvYfcMqBX8x3_Zi94b1gWf9ko42vP7E97hwTh5c630jXSyoQK1xSaykA8NAMDzo1MyaNRklNpkBxgQ9v60gCL9Kygl9Z_hdqnFYPB1fipPCu-UK-s64Ohuq7HdV5wai/s400/tornado.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
When you grow up in a part of the country known as "Tornado Alley," you kind of get numb to nature's danger. Every now and then, though, it seems nature seems to sense this, and she rages and storms just to remind you that you aren't in charge, and you aren't indestructible, and that your plans mean nothing in the Grand Scheme of Things.</div>
<br />
I had planned to edit tonight, but instead I rushed home from work to make sure the kids were safe (they were). After a quick dinner provided by my mom and dad--for which I am thankful (especially since the storm meant no quick trip to the store to restock my bare cupboards), I sat down to read my latest short story aloud in search of The Inevitable Oopsies. <br />
<br />
No matter how hard I try to edit, it seems that <em>something </em>manages slip through. However, reading aloud makes me slow down (I am a crazy quick reader), listen for changes in tone or voice, makes me pay attention to inconsistencies and plot holes. It also results in me taking on the voice--the tone, inflection, and vocal mannerisms--of my characters. This can be a bit tough to shake and creates the illusion of delusion. <br />
<br />
I had just nestled down to immerse myself in my delusions when: BOOM, zzaaaaaaapppp, silence; the electricity went out.<br />
<br />
After much cussing, I gathered enough candles and flashlights to illuminate the room well enough to read. I was shocked at how much more I noticed when I read aloud. It forced me to focus on the work. Distractions fell away, and the story consumed me.<br />
<br />
I made notes, and once the lights came back on I made the changes on the computer, as well. Now I will set it aside a while longer. A story needs time to steep--like tea.<br />
<br />
Also, my hand needs a break. All this typing is taking its toll...Carpal Tunnel Syndrome and tendonitis. <br />
<br />
So for the next few days, I will write and edit and read aloud. I will wait to see if the ginger agent ever responds, and I will send off finished stories and start new ones.<br />
<br />
More storms are predicted for tomorrow, so there may be more candles in my future--but even if the storms hold off I might just light a candle anyway--for being safe, and feeling happy about a story, and prayin' that the story might be the one that tips the scales in my favor. <br />
<br />
For those that have read the short story, and offered comments and suggestions, who have kept reading and following me in this journey, who have bolstered my spirits and made me feel like I can do anything...I thank you. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08252890741829487017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-598544278562595293.post-91054386120146420532013-05-23T09:23:00.000-07:002013-05-23T09:23:35.767-07:00Good Lord, What Have I Done?Let me begin by saying that it seemed like a perfectly good idea at the time. For some reason, I happened to clink on an email that I had absolutely no time to read. But I did read it. It was from Writers' Digest, and it mentioned new agents who were accepting submissions. I scanned the various agents. One stood out. Perhaps it was the red hair...I do have an affinity for other gingers. Perhaps it was because he was from the South. Maybe it was because he mentioned story collections. No idea, but I decided to send off some stories. Just to see...you know? Sometimes you feel so...compelled to follow a notion through to the end. <br />
<br />
Which would be all well and good, except I can be a bit...impetuous. I have a tendency to run and jump, simply believing that the world will reach out and catch me. (This is not to say that I haven't fallen on my face a time to two.)<br />
<br />
So...I did it. I wrote some blathering thing and included two partials, and I hit "send." Then...I panicked. <em>Oh no! But it had seemed like such a good idea.</em> Suddenly, I feel like I am back in elementary school--with home-cut bangs and braces and glasses. What I pride as being "fun" and "quirky" just feels...silly. <br />
<br />
The doubt sets in.<br />
<br />
That thing I wrote...the one that I was so proud of...what if it is total crap? What if the beta readers lied? What if no one had the heart to tell me? And why the hell didn't I think any of this until I hit the "send" button?<br />
<br />
It doesn't matter that I have sold some stories...the doubt doesn't go away. I don't know if it ever does. I wonder if other writers, writers whom I admire, feel the same nagging sense of inadequacy? I think about the thing Amanda Palmer said about the<a href="http://amandapalmer.net/blog/the-fraud-police-afp-gives-a-commencement-speech-to/" target="_blank"> fraud police.</a> I try to catch my breath, which seems to have seeped out of my lungs and shows no sign of returning. I lean over and put my head between my legs to quell the spinning room and overwhelming desire to puke. <br />
<br />
I try to remember everything I have ever heard or read by anyone whom I have ever admired about self-doubt and the creative process. Then I remember...<br />
<br />
Make Good Art... <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/plWexCID-kA?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />
...and the air returned to my lungs. <br />
<br />
Maybe I did act impetuously. Perhaps I will never be as proper or professional as some writers. I will always retain a bit of the girl with the home-cut bangs and the glasses. Perhaps I will always doubt myself...but I don't doubt my stories, or the people who inhabit them. I don't doubt the voice inside me that wants to be heard.<br />
<br />
Ask me again, though, next time I hit that "send" button. I might not sound so brave then.<br />
<br />
<strong><em>What about you? Do you feel like the Fraud Police are waiting to expose you? How do you cope with the doubt after you hit the "send" button?</em></strong>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08252890741829487017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-598544278562595293.post-47798247911111482882013-05-07T09:34:00.000-07:002013-05-07T09:34:59.123-07:00Life...and Other Creepy Things<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Life has been busy and scramble-y lately.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The kiddos have been having lots of “end of
school year” stuff going on, and I have been writing…a LOT.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact, I sold another short story!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The story is called “Call for Courage” and
will be appearing late this summer/early autumn in <a href="http://pagespineficshowcase.com/" target="_blank">Page & Spine</a>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will shout about it more when it comes out,
in case you want to head over and check it out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I finished the story I was working on for the <a href="http://www.utulsa.edu/nimrod/awards.html" target="_blank">“Katherine Anne Porter Prize for Fiction.”</a> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I read, reread it, revised it and tampered
with it so much that I’m pretty sure the image of the words are burned on my
retinas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I just finished a draft of the story I plan to submit to the
<a href="http://www.npr.org/series/105660765/three-minute-fiction" target="_blank">NPR Three Minute Fiction Contest</a> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">later this week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Incidentally, the
story I just sold was originally written as an entry into a previous Three
Minute Fiction Contest!) </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I have also just realized that a lot of my stories creep me
out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am not sure what this says about
me, but it is true. I don't actually read a lot of horror--unless you count the news headlines. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong><em>So, tell me…what kinds of stories do you like to read?<o:p></o:p></em></strong></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08252890741829487017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-598544278562595293.post-59141763724332661882013-04-24T10:58:00.001-07:002013-04-24T10:58:28.089-07:00It's the Little Things<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Admittedly, there are times when you have to take a leap of faith. Sometimes, you just have to jump. But other times...well, other times you
don’t necessarily <em>jump</em>—more like you get <em>pushed</em>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Life can be a bit of a bully that way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everything comes at you at once, and you find
yourself in a free fall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These are the
times when you realize who <em>really </em>cares.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Sometimes they catch sight of you in the moments before your fall, and they rush to prepare a soft
place for you to land.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They do this
without speaking a word.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They do it
without expectation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">This week, my youngest has been having severe asthma
problems.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every day this week he has had
to be picked up early from school because, despite his medications, he simply
can’t get enough air.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He went to the
doctor yesterday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are heading there
again today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even as I type this, I know
that prayers, good thoughts and intentions, and blessings are being said for
him. The people in my life, and on my blog, are just amazing like that. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">This morning, I had to get gasoline
before I began the 1.5 hour trek to get all the kids to school and/or bus stops.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was in a hurry, and I ran out without breakfast,
and without preparing a drink to take to work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>(I refuse to spend $1.65 for a soda in the machine!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Besides, I didn’t have any cash on me.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I got to work, I found a stray packet of
water flavoring in my desk drawer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>SCORE!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That got me through the morning.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">When I rounded the corner at work, a friend
asked, “You can eat bagels, right?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Someone brought bagels.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are
in the kitchen.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>BREAKFAST!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I couldn’t believe my luck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">A bit later, when the school called, I hurried
to call his doctor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The nurse told me
they had JUST had a cancellation and could get us in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>WIN!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">With all the doctor’s appointments and emergency
school runs this week, I had not found time to get groceries. As a result, things are pretty “Old
Mother Hubbard” at my house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wasn’t
quite sure what to do about dinner. In fact, it has been weighing on me all morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Takeout is rarely an option—besides being stupid expensive, it is also
problematic due to all the food allergies in our house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> As</span> I pondered this, the phone rang.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mom had just been to a big Grand Opening Sale
at a local store and got some good deals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“I picked you up some—“ she began, then rattled off enough food to feed
the family until the weekend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>YES!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">And, just now, as I heated up some leftovers
that I had stashed in the office ‘fridge, my dear friend popped her head in, “I
am running out, do<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>you want anything?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought of my now-empty glass at my desk,
and nearly cried.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Caffeine?” I
whispered, almost afraid to hope. She would laugh if she read this, because I am sure she didn't give her act of kindness a second thought, but for me it meant a lot. <em>The little things always mean so much more than you realize.</em><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">In a bit I will leave to meet my son at the
doctor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> I am worried. So, h</span>ere is hoping for a bit more
good news, just one more blessing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><strong>Have
you ever had a day when it felt like something was watching out for you--whether
God, the Universe, or friends, or family?</strong><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08252890741829487017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-598544278562595293.post-80125208780795317582013-04-24T08:16:00.000-07:002013-04-24T08:16:50.768-07:00World Book Night Book WINNERS!As promised, here are the winners of the World Book Night Book Giveaway:<br />
<br />
1. Lauren Gilbert<br />
2. Janie Franz<br />
3. Sheena-kay Graham<br />
<br />
Also, because there was a lot of sharing going on, I decided to give away several additional copies of the book. So emrose415 and mittensmorgul, you get a copy, too. To receive your copy, please email me, within the next seven (7) days, at gingerlovinmind (at) gmail (dot) com and let me know the address where you want it sent. <br />
<br />
I appreciate everyone who shared and spread the word.<br />
<br />
<strong><em>So, 'fess up, what how did you celebrate World Book Night?</em></strong><br />
<br />
<a class="notification_target" href="http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/48625077496/t-z-wallace-author-book-giveaway-the-handmaids"></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08252890741829487017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-598544278562595293.post-26490680573643451192013-04-22T07:53:00.002-07:002013-04-22T07:53:19.666-07:00World Book Night Give Away: A Handmaid's Tale<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdSsQkEh5kpsUt7DbfSicQeCfQRWFyRCbtyeWd7D6gSHo-rnmrLSSW-LoHVQ0PXuz7iaXO8LWZRIXivPyrLV88MbfNG661mpv1BUZVjkll0I0vbISZLqy_Ne-jOzJuTnewBTUbUWhlD4mG/s1600/WBN_2013_logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdSsQkEh5kpsUt7DbfSicQeCfQRWFyRCbtyeWd7D6gSHo-rnmrLSSW-LoHVQ0PXuz7iaXO8LWZRIXivPyrLV88MbfNG661mpv1BUZVjkll0I0vbISZLqy_Ne-jOzJuTnewBTUbUWhlD4mG/s1600/WBN_2013_logo.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a></div>
April 23rd is <a href="http://www.us.worldbooknight.org/" target="_blank">WORLD BOOK NIGHT</a>. This is my second year as a Book Giver, and I am getting excited about the idea of handing over free books, with no strings attached, to unsuspecting people. As its website explains, "World Book Night U.S. is a celebration of books and reading held on April 23, when 25,000 passionate volunteers across America give a total of half a million books within their communities to those who don’t regularly read. In 2012, World Book Night was celebrated in the U.S., the UK, Ireland, and Germany and saw over 80,000 people gift more than 2.5 million books."<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhie0hgAtN9jijtI4S45DX98pfKzxbzJarXT08o0nIbT-yRsNRrB6dZJFSh92X2wrj68CrORwurD_H4wpZerc64WLagn3TV_-zt3GZjH-eWgXW7gIgduKKiuNJGlS56N26sfiptAviTvFO-/s1600/hmt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhie0hgAtN9jijtI4S45DX98pfKzxbzJarXT08o0nIbT-yRsNRrB6dZJFSh92X2wrj68CrORwurD_H4wpZerc64WLagn3TV_-zt3GZjH-eWgXW7gIgduKKiuNJGlS56N26sfiptAviTvFO-/s1600/hmt.jpg" height="200" width="131" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I am proud to be a World Book Night giver again this year, and I will be giving away <a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Handmaids-Tale-Margaret-Atwood/dp/038549081X" target="_blank">"The Handmaid's Tale,"</a> by Margaret Atwood. To celebrate, I will be giving away three (3) copies of the book here on my blog. If you are interested in winning one of the copies, all you need to do to enter is to share this post on Twitter, Facebook, or Tumblr and then let me know in the comments below. Three winners will be chosen at random, and I will announce the winners on April 24th and you will have one week to email me your address for mailing. Any unclaimed books will be donated to the local shelter.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
If you haven't already read the book, here is the teaser from the World Book Night page:<br /><br /><em> In the world of the near future, who will control women's bodies?<br /><br />Offred is a Handmaid in the Republic of Gilead. She may leave the home of the Commander and his wife once a day to walk to food markets whose signs are now pictures instead of words because women are no longer allowed to read. She must lie on her back once a month and pray that the Commander makes her pregnant, because in an age of declining births, Offred and the other Handmaids are only valued if their ovaries are viable.<br /><br />Offred can remember the days before, when she lived and made love with her husband Luke; when she played with and protected her daughter; when she had a job, money of her own, and access to knowledge. But all of that is gone now....</em><br /><br /><em>Funny, unexpected, horrifying, and altogether convincing, The Handmaid's Tale is at once a scathing satire, dire warning, and tour de force for the mature and adventurous reader.</em><br />
</div>
I gave away several books on my blog last year, and I also handed out free copies on my lunch hour to strangers walking around downtown. It is amazing the suspicion that free things evoke in people. So many seemed scared to accept a free gift. Some refused it. Others, however, lit up when I approached them. Maybe I was the first person to acknowledge them, to actually <em>see </em>them in a long while. <br />
<br />
So many people seemed to walk with their heads down, reluctant to make eye contact, their hands preoccupied with electronic devices or stuffed defensively in their pockets. Just getting them to look up took and engage took a herculean effort. But when they finally <em>did </em>slow down and look up, they seemed eager to talk, to receive my gift and to give back with their time, their own stories, a few even gave hugs--so desperate for human contact. <br />
<br />
See, it isn't so hard, this give and take. We just forgot how. We have to relearn--to start somewhere. <br />
<br />
This is my somewhere. <br />
<strong><em></em></strong><br />
<strong><em>So take a minute to enter, chose a book to curl up with tomorrow to celebrate World Book Night, and add a comment to share how <u>you</u> plan to celebrate World Book Night and the gift of reading!</em></strong><br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08252890741829487017noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-598544278562595293.post-33592300802310195112013-04-09T08:47:00.001-07:002013-04-09T08:47:23.230-07:00The Winds are Changing
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJmp817of9TumTaCE5UjzIr56tTynUepPUmUksKv2az-Td_TkjXa9ba6waHfvMbjseMYABM3Es0-QFqNJ3t17Dh3SSxpHpyQZp7B7dYsWypFgJrIhmwa3Eqwearz_Ys8Qap2X7rrznX1Xm/s1600/three-crows.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJmp817of9TumTaCE5UjzIr56tTynUepPUmUksKv2az-Td_TkjXa9ba6waHfvMbjseMYABM3Es0-QFqNJ3t17Dh3SSxpHpyQZp7B7dYsWypFgJrIhmwa3Eqwearz_Ys8Qap2X7rrznX1Xm/s1600/three-crows.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>One for sorrow, two for joy...</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The winds are changing—and I am not just talking about this
freakish Oklahoma weather.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean my
life—my direction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am finishing up a
longish short-story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> It has a sort of Southern Gothic feel, which I had been wanting to try, and it also allows me to indulge in my fascination with creepy nursery rhymes, crows, strange people, and small towns. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>Once it is
completed, and fretted over, and polished, I will go about all the little
details required to make it available on Amazon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, before then, I will be launching the new
website.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wanted a place to share some short
stories, house my blog, share links to others stories and books available for
purchase.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Basically, I wanted a home for
my writing life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Being a nosy sort, I wonder what people like on a
website.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Personally, I like the snippets
and bits of the writing life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I like a
glimpse into the process, into the inspiration, into the wins and almost-wins…and
the losses that feel like will keep us forever rooting in “what if” only to
turn into an even greater opportunity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
like photos and drawings, quotes and songs, and I like to feel like I am there
as the art emerges.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I love it when writers share things, like J. K. Rowling’s
handwritten notes to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="http://gointothestory.blcklst.com/2011/09/j-k-rowlings-hand-written-notes.html"><span style="color: blue;">Harry
Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. </span></a><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i>Or when Neil Gaiman gives me a peek at his
new </span><a href="http://journal.neilgaiman.com/"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Calibri;">book covers, </span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">or his lovely yet
ailing cat, Princess, or his take on the </span><a href="http://journal.neilgaiman.com/2013/03/princess-and-some-thoughts-on-writing.html"><span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">writing
life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
guess I just like to feel included.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">What about you?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What do you like
for writers to share on their website?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What interests you?<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08252890741829487017noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-598544278562595293.post-30934671498056588312013-03-26T09:51:00.005-07:002013-03-26T09:51:50.705-07:00The Evolution of Dreams...and the Art of Asking
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Things don’t always happen the way we expect or in the order
we anticipate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Plans get derailed,
dreams get sidelined, but sometimes—if we are lucky—the reality turns out to be
even better than what we originally hoped for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My novel is still in the works, but it is really difficult for
me to work on a piece that relies so heavily on continuity when I can only
carve out small blocks of time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Between
work, and family, cleaning, and carpooling, and writing articles for extra
income—well, it can be nearly impossible to sit down, reorient myself, remember
where I left off and where I was going, find my voice, and get down a
reasonable number of words before I doze off at my keyboard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">However, I have been writing several short stories.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some I wrote for contests, some to submit to
magazines or journals, and others I wrote because they would not shut up until
I did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Last week, I glanced over the
files of short stories that cluttered my computer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t realize how many I had amassed or
the spectrum they covered:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Southern
Gothic, science fiction, horror, mystery…. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">About that same time, I read that Amazon had a <a href="http://www.mediabistro.com/galleycat/amazon-opens-literary-fiction-imprint-little-a_b66988" target="_blank">new imprint</a>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I read a little further and realized that it
was geared toward short stories.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Apparently,
short stories are enjoying a <a href="http://booksexyreview.com/2013/02/01/the-rise-of-the-short-story-robaroundbooks/" target="_blank">renaissance</a>! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whether it is due to time constraints or
decreased attention spans, I have no idea—but the timing couldn’t be better!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Now, I am not always the most observant person in the world
(a hardship for a writer, I know), but I don’t need a pile of books to fall on
my head for me to wonder if perhaps—just perhaps—this is a sign. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Even if it <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">isn’t</i> a
sign, I am going to pretend it is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I am going to release some single short stories as well as a
collection on Amazon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As things get
closer, I will need your help—help choosing a book cover and possibly the
title.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will need help getting word
out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you decide to purchase a story,
or the collection, perhaps you will also consider helping out by writing an honest review
sharing your thoughts and impressions. You can help by spreading the word (once there is more word to spread). And you can help with your presence, your encouragement, and your well-wishes--they really do keep me going.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I feel a bit like Amanda Palmer </span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">(but with eyebrows and pathetic singing voice) humbly asking that you share in
this dream with me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> If you have not seen her <a href="http://on.ted.com/Amanda" target="_blank">TED Talk</a>, you should. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>Asking for help is
scary and risky and…liberating.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em><strong>I will let you know as things get closer, because I when I
jump…I’m going to need someone to catch me!</strong></em><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08252890741829487017noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-598544278562595293.post-14070063711165021882013-03-18T14:16:00.001-07:002013-03-18T14:16:27.436-07:00Crazy FamiliarMy life has been taken over by short stories. Flash fiction, longer pieces, snippets that are on hold... and one special piece. <br />
<br />
The special piece is a Southern Gothic short story that I hope to finish in time to enter in a contest. The deadline is April 30th, and I have a <em>lot</em> of crazy to pack into those pages before it will be ready to go.<br />
<br />
I might have mentioned that my family has certain Southern Gothic attributes that may have contributed to my writing. I definitely feel a need to memorialize the colorful quirkiness that so many try to stomp out of themselves. I prefer to embrace it.<br />
<br />
So I am both eager and terrified to actually be weaving together these bits of crazy. I need to write at least 500 words per day for the next 10-14 days, and then spend the rest of the time available on re-writes and panic attacks.<br />
<br />
Writers have such a glamorous life. Glamorous and crazy. See--Southern Gothic!<br />
<br />
I have always loved Southern Gothic. It just felt...<em>familiar.</em><br />
<em></em><br />
<em><strong>What about you? What genres do you gravitate toward?</strong></em>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08252890741829487017noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-598544278562595293.post-44863436700389035382013-03-09T13:56:00.000-08:002013-03-09T13:56:57.722-08:00More Things I Suck At...Involves Juggling and DogsBecause I am horrible at juggling all this life stuff, I never got around to posting the link to my <a href="http://www.cordeliacallsitquits.com/reader-quit-being-a-tragedy-junkie-tz-wallace/" target="_blank">guest blog</a> over at Cordelia Calls it Quits. For those interested, I blogged about my obsession with following tragedies. I really do think it has something to do with being a writer, and the fact that I can't stop until I reach the end of the story. The problem is, some stories have no end. As the tale unfolds, its reach continues and touches more than the initial protagonist and antagonist. Minor characters pick up the story and carry it with them in another direction, having been colored by the imprint left by the events. <br />
<br />
It is the same when I research something for a story. I get so caught up in the details and the tangents that I end up on the periphery staring back at my starting point, quite unsure exactly how I got from there to here, then retracing my steps.<br />
<br />
I am horrible at juggling. I get too caught up in the fact that I am actually juggling that I end up dropping all the balls once I realize that I am <em>actually doing it. </em>Maybe if I don't pay too much attention to it, I will manage it better.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj90elqUgCX1Kx7rp0LFxweCRBs-arggfGXxuzc5pCGB1tsEz6Jz9gedG68qY700qTmkttzZwPrMxQae3JIE7LZd5TZ6BwaaWOG27vVlHTVIMu4E2tEaJDGcIPsVapoSrbxVREO7MBoI_Fd/s1600/Berger_allemand_en_montagne_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="163" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj90elqUgCX1Kx7rp0LFxweCRBs-arggfGXxuzc5pCGB1tsEz6Jz9gedG68qY700qTmkttzZwPrMxQae3JIE7LZd5TZ6BwaaWOG27vVlHTVIMu4E2tEaJDGcIPsVapoSrbxVREO7MBoI_Fd/s200/Berger_allemand_en_montagne_2.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is not my puppy,<br />
but he sure is handsome.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Since I don't have quite enough on my plate, I think I am about to give in to my <strike>herd's</strike> family's desire to add another dog into the mix. Apparently our beagle is lonely and desperately needs a German Shepherd puppy to keep her company, or at least that is what my little ragamuffins are claiming. I realize that this is an insane idea that will take up even more of my time and energy...so chances are good that I will go ahead and do it. <br />
<br />
After all, when you are terrible at something the only way to get better is to keep trying, right?<br />
<br />
<em><strong>How are you at juggling life? Are you getting better at it, or are you just better at accepting it?</strong></em>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08252890741829487017noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-598544278562595293.post-78829768618353710442013-02-16T11:39:00.000-08:002013-02-17T08:21:23.160-08:00I QUIT!If you have not already stumbled on it, there is a wonderful website called <a href="http://www.cordeliacallsitquits.com/" target="_blank">Cordelia Calls It Quits</a>, which is the brainchild of the talented Kelly Gurnett. Kelly decided to quit settling and to reclaim her life. (More power to her!) There is a feature on the site called the <a href="http://www.cordeliacallsitquits.com/quits-list/" target="_blank">Quit List</a>, where Kelly and her readers share what they are quitting. I am proud to announce that my personal Quit will be posted there on February 27th (don't worry, I will remind you). <br />
<br />
In other news, <span style="font-size: large;"><strong>I sold a short story</strong></span>. Sorry, didn't mean to shout. But I am inordinately proud and relieved and walking around feeling <em>quite authorly</em> (however, I will deny that last bit, so don't go blabbing about it). I realize that it is one short story (out of...how many that I have written?!??!), but still...pretty pleased about it. It won't be published for another 3-6 months, but as soon as I get a firm date I will let you know.<br />
<br />
On the down side, all of this makes it even harder to sit down and write the articles that are helping to pay the bills. While there are things I quite like writing about, there are other topics that suck those Authorly Feelings right out of me.<br />
<br />
I am working on a couple of short stories now that I hope to send off. The long waiting periods are murder, though. I think they had it for about six months before I heard anything. I had pretty much given up on the one I had just sold. Ironically enough, my dear friend <a href="http://sentientobserver.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Angela B</a> asked me about it just last week and I had just kind of shrugged it off. (Perhaps that is a misuse of the word ironic*...maybe it is more creepy than ironic. But if so, it is of the "creepy cool" variety, so I will take it!)<br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtYHqSM4OaloCREP4TK8X9acny73YyDkp2xvgcR5xLmiQDlERifeDHBmtcmpB6RkC16Z6iaen6CuTYGyjUR4twB6-Wp89aYNsxtMQ6pzObBFwAlh6mI1iPUEadGZKPC7K2pPJcB_ZTQ5YC/s1600/Antennae_galaxies_xl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtYHqSM4OaloCREP4TK8X9acny73YyDkp2xvgcR5xLmiQDlERifeDHBmtcmpB6RkC16Z6iaen6CuTYGyjUR4twB6-Wp89aYNsxtMQ6pzObBFwAlh6mI1iPUEadGZKPC7K2pPJcB_ZTQ5YC/s1600/Antennae_galaxies_xl.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Actually, this is the </span></em><br />
<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Antennae_Galaxies" title="Antennae Galaxies"><em><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Antennae Galaxies</span></em></a><em><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> undergoing a collision</span></em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
So maybe this is the Universe telling me that I just needed to take a step back and let things happen. Perhaps I just need to shrug things off more and take comfort in the fact that things always seem to work out.<br />
<br />
Hmmmm, if that is all it takes--maybe I should just shrug off those lottery tickets I just bought.<br />
<br />
<em><strong>So, 'fess up--how long have you had to wait to hear back on a story? Had you given up?</strong></em><strong><em></em></strong><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">* No, it wasn't a misuse. I checked: </span><a href="http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/ironic"><span style="font-size: x-small;">http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/ironic</span></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08252890741829487017noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-598544278562595293.post-46724644297212671782013-02-13T14:26:00.001-08:002013-02-14T10:17:34.406-08:00My "To Don't" ListLife is too short to accomplish all the things expected of me. With the day job, three kids (two of whom have been ill since the weekend), seven cats, three blogs, my novel, my freelance work, and a marriage that too often gets shuffled around to make room for other things. There is simply too much on the "To Do" List. <br />
<br />
Clearly I need to move some things over to the <strong>"To Don't" List.</strong> <br />
<br />
<ol>
<li>Neatly Made Beds - I think that this is a "To Don't" no-brainer. While I admit that I appreciate the comforting smell of fresh linens, and the joy of sliding between freshly laundered sheets neatly turned down and waiting, this does seem to be one of the few housekeeping areas that might be able to slide--at least temporarily. I am more partial to clean underwear than a made bed.</li>
<li>A Clean Car - wait, my car is never clean, so this won't really buy me any time. Damn.</li>
<li>A Made-up Face - I wear very little make-up anyway--normally just some powder, a bit of mascara, and a dab of lipgloss first thing in the morning. I never bother to reapply. I am not sure if giving this up will garner any "real" time, but I am willing to try. </li>
<li>Lunch Options - I may need to revert back to my time-saving strategy of taking a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter to my office and calling that lunch for the next month. This actually saves time <em>and </em>money. WIN!</li>
<li>Valentine's Day - luckily, hubby has to work Valentine's evening (Sorry, sweetie! I mean that in the nicest way possible!), so that takes the pressure off both of us to find something "new" and "exciting" to do after <strong>23 Valentine's Days together</strong>. We have mutually agreed to celebrate it at a later date and, since this means that the jacked up prices might be back to normal by then, I am considering this a <em>time </em>and <em>money</em> win as well!</li>
</ol>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDYvuPIk_Md_pLBOZaRRTeef1skhU6j9VJGezTCKBeqc6CN8tYYaxQBS01hQexYuYpm608-Tye-1zRX8M33Ulq-C0gOS-izGZerWBUwUfeKYsG1Pq31o_Y2TPR2ijrIW7tIB9H-gsGKNbG/s1600/valentines.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDYvuPIk_Md_pLBOZaRRTeef1skhU6j9VJGezTCKBeqc6CN8tYYaxQBS01hQexYuYpm608-Tye-1zRX8M33Ulq-C0gOS-izGZerWBUwUfeKYsG1Pq31o_Y2TPR2ijrIW7tIB9H-gsGKNbG/s1600/valentines.jpg" height="320" width="245" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>But let's just plan our Heart- Day Meal</em><br />
<em>for another time...</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
There has to be <em>more</em> things that I can avoid doing...help me out, here! <br />
<br />
<strong><em>What have you given up to make more time for reading, writing, or family?</em></strong>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08252890741829487017noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-598544278562595293.post-65459064799289857002013-02-11T11:45:00.001-08:002013-02-11T11:45:29.036-08:00Death by ProcrastinationThere is the writing I love...the writing that wakes me up at night whispering ideas. Then there is the writing that helps pay the bills. Certainly, until I get the novel finished, the two will likely remain quite separate. <br />
<br />
The writing I love is so all encompassing that I scribble notes at stop lights, jots reminders on my arm with Sharpie, and chant bits of dialogue for fear of losing the idea before I can memorialize it.<br />
<br />
The "other writing" can be a...chore. At times I feel like a rebellious ten year old, whining in her messy room, spending the day doing <em>anything</em> other than what needs to be done. <br />
<br />
I had no idea that procrastination was so exhausting.<br />
<br />
What do you do when there are thing to be done, but you can't quite make yourself do them? Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08252890741829487017noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-598544278562595293.post-41427682979839894772013-01-30T13:56:00.003-08:002013-01-30T13:56:53.199-08:00An Accumulated Life<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Sometimes themes reveal themselves to you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A common thread becomes apparent in the tapestry of life, and you realize that Life, or the Universe, or God is whispering in your ear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes this happens at all once.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A “Grand Revelation.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But sometimes it sneaks up on you, skirting the perimeter of your life until, finally, it envelopes you and startles you out of your ignorance.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Things have been happening around me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">to</i> me, mind you…but <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">near </i>me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People have passed away, people have had their home and security threatened, others have had their health compromised, and some have decided to make good on promises they made to themselves and dreams long since abandoned.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">I have slowly come to realize that the thread that links these events around me is the fact that they all can be traced back to the accumulations that build up in our life…for better and for worse.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Death, which seems to hover around me, results from the accumulation of time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those days that we are allotted fall away like pages from a calendar until finally there are no more pages left to pull.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">I wonder how many days my calendar still holds.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIEbO7lEruleUAwd0sXnygqNqf2X-8QB4HRyX2lrOa742oR21aoG7aYrqnjeBhcroLrMa4ud13UnDkUVGmyMXwmW_XoLrOK0nqLTcn0Hoi_PHxXhEfDRaTMcc1X5D17kDtsT8TTy6auJ9t/s1600/CALENDAR.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIEbO7lEruleUAwd0sXnygqNqf2X-8QB4HRyX2lrOa742oR21aoG7aYrqnjeBhcroLrMa4ud13UnDkUVGmyMXwmW_XoLrOK0nqLTcn0Hoi_PHxXhEfDRaTMcc1X5D17kDtsT8TTy6auJ9t/s1600/CALENDAR.JPG" ea="true" height="200" width="149" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">A dear friend’s home was broken into.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her life’s accumulation of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">things</i>, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">memories</i>, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">mementos</i> were rummaged through, strewn about, and stripped from her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So many irreplaceable things, lovingly picked out and arranged, the accumulation of a family’s life together...ripped away.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Others have succumbed to illnesses both big and small.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Viruses and cancers and artery-clogging plaque accumulate within us, unseen to the naked eye...yet still taking a toll. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Another calendar page falls to the floor.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Fortunately, this is balanced out by the accumulation of hope and dreams and blessings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those who had previously given up on themselves now find cautious courage as they take tentative steps towards long-forgotten dreams.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">And here, in my own world, at my cluttered dining room table, I sit at my computer and peck away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The page-count grows, accumulating a bit more each day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Word building upon word building upon word.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08252890741829487017noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-598544278562595293.post-12636498868158920842013-01-23T13:22:00.001-08:002013-01-23T13:22:19.255-08:00Keeping Food on the Table<br />
<div style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
Over the past year, I have had <u>a lot</u> of requests to read short stories, chapters, and entire book manuscripts. And, honestly, I <em>love </em>reading them, but I realized I was spending more time working on other writers' books than my own. I also realized that I was having trouble finding enough time to work on my freelance writing. </div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq1xIo0Ths4KtFjOIgwGxoZxbG4vos_qDufp7BNjwc9wOTgx1lftGiYI0S7FuRj8zbArsC2BgC3DfDUtks61fTkIEBKVeBTBbypA73BDpfnMf93h75rUZUFvAyR8-rWxeaGfMGnTe2KfhB/s1600/Stipula_fountain_pen.jpg" height="133" width="200" /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
So, my desire to keep helping other writers, and to also keep food on the table, evolved into this: <a href="http://terriwallacefreelance.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Terri Wallace Freelance</a>. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
It gets better! If you are a follower of my blog, I will offer my editing services to you through February 28th, 2013, at HALF OFF my regular rates! If you are interested, contact me at gingerlovinmind(at)gmail(dot)com.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08252890741829487017noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-598544278562595293.post-80669184603021428542013-01-15T19:24:00.003-08:002013-01-15T19:24:13.056-08:00Still the World ContinuedI missed my blogoversary. It was last week. But last week is a blur...a really bad, really long and drawn out blur. <br />
<br />
It all started Monday night. I found out that my uncle died. I had not seen him in quite some time. He had been in prison. He was my only uncle, or at least the only one I grew up knowing. He was the one who told me stories, and grew gardens rivaled anything in a magazine. I was married in his garden, near the bridge and just down the hill from the pergola, with a sound of a bagpipe wafting in the autumn breeze. When his sister (my aunt) was murdered, it was he who drove with me back and forth to the courthouse several counties away. <br />
<br />
I never got to say goodbye. Not to either of them. One moment they were here and, a moment passed and it was suddenly too late. We always think there is time enough....<br />
<br />
Then on Wednesday, my dad went into the hospital for tests and had some complications. A series of telephone calls, and missed information, and driving around trying to find the right hospital. He was admitted, and the immediate threat was taken care of...for now.<br />
<br />
Thursday brought with it a dog attack on our cat (luckily, it seems it only used one of his nine lives, so all is well).<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="http://oklegion142.files.wordpress.com/2011/05/img_1283.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://oklegion142.files.wordpress.com/2011/05/img_1283.jpg" width="320" /></a>Friday was the funeral. It was surreal and dismal and so totally not-a-proper funeral that I have decided that it was NOT actually his "real" funeral. No, that will happen this spring when I can plant some rosemary (for remembrance) and gather my children around the grave to tell them stories of the great-uncle whom they will never remember but through the images I weave for them. And weave I shall. </div>
<br />
I arrived home Friday so very tired, and drained, and emotionally spent. But then there was another call. Another death. This time it was another aunt...stolen away by illness. She was gone nearly as soon as I had heard she was ill. Another wordless goodbye. <br />
<br />
So, amidst the plague of sorrows that had cloaked my house, I did not notice something else passing...time, milestones, and silent markers along this journey. Hour blurred into hour and day into day. Before I noticed, the whole week was gone and I was left too weary to care.<br />
<br />
After many cups of tea, and many spontaneous hugs from children who can't quite understand why mommy is weepy, the moments stop bleeding together and start to resemble something familiar. The fog begins to lift. <br />
<br />
Despite my grief, still the world continued.<br />
<br />
A year has passed since I started this blog. Some goals have been met, and some are just now taking form.<br />
<br />
A year has passed...but the journey continues.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08252890741829487017noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-598544278562595293.post-60367198047041991162013-01-02T13:20:00.003-08:002013-01-02T13:20:43.511-08:00New Year, Same Journey<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8X6_d47lIL5UTyxkA8cDX5d0eWjjcB1lM0v_U2ZeFFLqWlmRO89H1N4xaPsjWmYhdx1OXp-0hstd4l9kVU7w7f3aTndoeFpvWtYLqkwg7z1pYPabOVllQoLAPp_wrem1dgv8DppYsrojg/s1600/NewYearsResolution1915.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" eea="true" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8X6_d47lIL5UTyxkA8cDX5d0eWjjcB1lM0v_U2ZeFFLqWlmRO89H1N4xaPsjWmYhdx1OXp-0hstd4l9kVU7w7f3aTndoeFpvWtYLqkwg7z1pYPabOVllQoLAPp_wrem1dgv8DppYsrojg/s320/NewYearsResolution1915.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I do not tend to make resolutions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I always <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">mean</i> to…I just never seem to have my thoughts collected by December 31<sup>st</sup>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I still have visions of sugarplums, and remnants of “To Do” lists dancing in my head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, as far as resolutions go, I vow only to <strong><em>Read More, Write More, and Love More</em></strong>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anything beyond that is the cherry on top.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I have always been all about the <em>journey</em>, rather than the <em>destination</em>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because even once I get somewhere, I tend to be looking onward.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is both a blessing and a hindrance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is wonderful to look ahead, but I do need to be reminded, at times, to stop and look around…to appreciate it all while it lasts.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I find that the month of January tends to result in lofty goals and aspirations, some which I end up achieving (almost in spite of myself) and others which I continue to aspire to, but all of which I am proud.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Last year, I got motivated to work on my novel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I am still working on it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The past year has seen me make startling (well, for me, at least) amounts of progress on the novel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It has seen the start of this blog (and, yes, my blogoversary is looming), and the start of my author Facebook page.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>2012 allowed me to start making some money with my writing, and I have been blessed to see my words in print.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(And I am hoping that 2013 sees more of both!) [Knocking on wood.]</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I hope that 2013 brings more words, and more books; more love, and more friendship; more blessings, and more prosperity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I hope that it brings health and joy, honesty and dignity, and that it brings truth, and honor, and courage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">May it bring things worth quoting, and remembering, and sharing…and friends with which to carry on the journey.</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08252890741829487017noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-598544278562595293.post-80462526654415070482012-12-16T05:19:00.000-08:002012-12-16T05:19:01.867-08:00Blessed is the LifeA life is a story comprised by so many mundane moments, strung together over time, and punctuated by a spattering of majestic milestones. Many of the most beloved memories are not the most dramatic--a soft smile after the children are all asleep, the squeeze of a hand, a shared sunset. Those closest to us remember the life...others simply recall a story or two.<br />
<br />
Sometimes, History claims a claims a life. Sometimes a story. People do the same. Sometimes a story affects us so profoundly, that the essence of it stays with us forever...if not the specifics. <br />
<br />
As you bend down to tie you son's perpetually untied shoe<em>,</em> you think <em>Remember that man who would have died in the Twin Towers but for the fact that his shoelace broke and he stopped to buy a new pair? </em>His name is long lost to most of us, but that moment is ingrained forever in your mind.<br />
<br />
When you hear the name John Wilkes Booth, you are likely to think "The Man Who Shot Lincoln." Unless you are a historian, you are not likely to recall much else about his life, or character, or family.<br />
<br />
We listen to these stories on the news, enthralled, unable to look away. We hear bits, little snippets, sound clips designed to grab our attention and pull our heart strings. We superimpose the face of our child on each victim. We weep and pray and curse.<br />
<br />
This moment, their last terrifying moment, sears itself on our soul. Years from now we will remember the anguished face that flashed on the television scream, the line of children--hands linked--marching away from the unspeakable. Each angelic face, their innocent eyes, will haunt us. And our eyes will still swell with tears of gratitude at the memory of the brave teachers who pulled children to safety--at those who ran <em>towards</em> the gunfire...not away.<br />
<br />
Others, however, will remember more than that. They will remember shared conversations, and laughter, and first steps and first birthdays. They will recall a myriad of hopes and dreams, and fears, shared in quiet whispers. They will smile over the petty bickering, the practical jokes, the odd quirks and preferences that used to annoy but are now unspeakably precious.<br />
<br />
We will remember the <em>story.</em><br />
<br />
They will remember the <em>life.</em><br />
<em></em><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH_WehpMd_0cE4LA-DgUMHTlLk1ElWgvXBChVvMjYc7mEarfUjEoBznCEu4PxrQ9uHHjH3d6CkcdvAfMT0fvwa7XjBeeAIP2eBglw7sgzhAeAtWNxzbLHcUyRb9Ew8sLtkWJ8_W_nrQtMo/s1600/337px-US_halfstaff_sunset.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH_WehpMd_0cE4LA-DgUMHTlLk1ElWgvXBChVvMjYc7mEarfUjEoBznCEu4PxrQ9uHHjH3d6CkcdvAfMT0fvwa7XjBeeAIP2eBglw7sgzhAeAtWNxzbLHcUyRb9Ew8sLtkWJ8_W_nrQtMo/s320/337px-US_halfstaff_sunset.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08252890741829487017noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-598544278562595293.post-70187691294383485832012-12-15T06:52:00.001-08:002012-12-15T06:52:21.189-08:00...now and at the hour of our death.I thought I was having a bad week. There were sick kids, and a sick me. Day after day of sharing our lone bathroom as the stomach flu ravaged our family. At one point, late at night, my middle child and I sat next to one another, perched in front of the toilet, taking turns being ill and hoping this delicate give and take was not unbalanced. <br />
<br />
There was laundry piling up, the normal variety as well as the extra caused by the germs that ran rampant. The house smelled of sick, and bleach, and Lysol. Extra blankets were pulled out to counter the chills that seemed to have taken root deep inside, never allowing any of us to feel quite warm enough--despite the fact that fevers raged and brows dripped with sweat.<br />
<br />
The ill tempers of three tired children and an exhausted mother made us poor companions as the germs and fevers began to subside. We were all cranky, and weak, and ready to get back to normal. So off to school and work we all ventured, still a bit shaky, but desperate for the company of someone who had not thrown up next to us, or stole the remote control, or drank the last of the ginger ale.<br />
<br />
A midday call from my husband broke the news of the shooting. The rest of the day was filled with the bits and snippets that filtered through the news, some true and some not. The details began to fill in, and the full horror of the Newtown massacre began to emerge. <br />
<br />
There is a desire, in times of crisis, to try to find out more details, more images, more information. We consume the stories, gorge on them, gnawing on every morsel that the media presents. Each grainy moment frozen in time, every sound bite.... <br />
<br />
No one wanted to be at work. Even though there was over a thousand miles between my hometown and Newtown, my mind remained there for the rest of the day. No one wanted to be anywhere but home, with their family, holding their children, and thanking God that it wasn't <em>their </em>daughter, <em>their </em>son.<br />
<br />
I thought I was having a bad week.<br />
<br />
Thank God for the piles of laundry, the bickering voices bellowing from another room. Bless their messy rooms and their hair that needs brushing. I am <em>so blessed</em> to tuck my sassy, loud, unruly children into bed and to kiss their heads before I stumble over a stray Lego on my way out. <br />
<br />
Tonight, we will have a special dinner, all of us, and I will try not to cry as their voices--always intentionally out of cadence--bless the food. As they complain, and goad, and talk over one another, I will sit back and bask in the beauty of my wonderfully imperfect family. <br />
<br />
Tomorrow, they can clean their room. Soon, I will shush them, and sigh, and roll my eyes again...but for tonight, I will remember my blessings.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhML4gyk8Fs034UIpK2AkhHj9cQ1VUEgbCyli2HIEcs_inRlOtW3VeOE7sgoCOMQCpj8eBZmid4YiAkOk9vsZOROmHiGR3BMLRQaOZswpU3Tk4fvytsBafHMw7xZow_hBqe-EeARgVu6RI8/s1600/320px-FlameDance.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhML4gyk8Fs034UIpK2AkhHj9cQ1VUEgbCyli2HIEcs_inRlOtW3VeOE7sgoCOMQCpj8eBZmid4YiAkOk9vsZOROmHiGR3BMLRQaOZswpU3Tk4fvytsBafHMw7xZow_hBqe-EeARgVu6RI8/s1600/320px-FlameDance.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08252890741829487017noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-598544278562595293.post-34021342048229847482012-12-04T14:27:00.001-08:002012-12-04T14:28:53.392-08:00I Want, I Want, I WANT!In this season of giving, I thought I might <em>casually </em>mention a <strike>few items</strike> bunch of stuff that a certain red-headed writer might like for Christmas. This is also a good list to work off of if you happen to have any geeky writer-types on your Christmas list.<br />
<br />
So, in no particular order, I want:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAy9q46Scbr9O4JuE9-LFw0GZGsU4p7wqJ2tiR4bqUiBMedPTib42v64nSIVFU4ldeWesPzKItTvHGW8W5LLpHmqRyYfE6QR-gSTDT4vL_BXCEvQOeze-6yjpwmVfjFLPJA-kSwz1nuh-A/s1600/e5a7_canned_unicorn_meat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" nea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAy9q46Scbr9O4JuE9-LFw0GZGsU4p7wqJ2tiR4bqUiBMedPTib42v64nSIVFU4ldeWesPzKItTvHGW8W5LLpHmqRyYfE6QR-gSTDT4vL_BXCEvQOeze-6yjpwmVfjFLPJA-kSwz1nuh-A/s200/e5a7_canned_unicorn_meat.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<strong>1. Canned Unicorm Meat. </strong>Count on the fabulous minds over at ThinkGeek to come up with something as horrifically fun as <a href="http://www.thinkgeek.com/product/e5a7/?rkgid=275668648&cpg=ogpla&source=google_pla&gclid=CLmS4sThgbQCFctcMgod91UAxA" target="_blank">canned unicorn meat</a>. (NOTE: take a moment and read their product descriptions. Seriously...go there now.) I really want to put this in the break room at work and install a hidden camera to watch all the fun reactions. Because I am just sick like that. Oh, <em>come on</em>, I can't be the only one! Admit it. You want some, too!<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD-omcEUSoOK5F9UvTc-rruCk9Aw9BXPRmb0wg5kPTSUnhBdEd9m22CTv7R1J8Aw9-gWTJ8T7eoBBLLXJjPopdlTV7WNeCLFas3Xqa5jqlDXCrLV05rVUYiCFFqWk2-OR3MlHGTgMET8-0/s1600/sonic_screwdriver_remote.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" nea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD-omcEUSoOK5F9UvTc-rruCk9Aw9BXPRmb0wg5kPTSUnhBdEd9m22CTv7R1J8Aw9-gWTJ8T7eoBBLLXJjPopdlTV7WNeCLFas3Xqa5jqlDXCrLV05rVUYiCFFqWk2-OR3MlHGTgMET8-0/s200/sonic_screwdriver_remote.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<strong>2. Sonic Screwdriver TV Remote. </strong>This is also from ThinkGeek. It is a Doctor Who TV remote that you can use to control your television (duh). Read the <a href="http://www.thinkgeek.com/product/ee4a/?rkgid=275668648&cpg=ogpla&source=google_pla&gclid=CNXD_q3igbQCFelFMgody0MAQw" target="_blank">description</a> in order to fully understand how amazingly awesome this remote is, and how unbearably cool I would be waving it at the television. Especially so that it would be mine, ALL MINE!<br />
<br />
<strong>3. Lord of the Rings Trilogy. </strong>I also need the <a href="http://www.biblio.com/details.php?dcx=456303699&aid=frg&utm_source=google&utm_medium=product&utm_campaign=feed-details&gclid=CL69hKHjgbQCFY1DMgodohsARg" target="_blank">Lord of the Rings Trilogy</a>, because somehow (unspeakably!) this is not in my library. I have no idea how this deplorable oversight happened, but I hope to rectify it immediately. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm8rkg8ktvjTqN39Vr5tk5sPekBbizmXZ4bshNei5MszvZPoAArbM-zQxLvLZ-GWru3564bwp6OOVLXiumlg9HVBXntdvh_4LFbMFRiy03V9e5Qxs5k2gvuzt0ElYHilppr47hoieKWpK2/s1600/soft+kitty.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="186" nea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm8rkg8ktvjTqN39Vr5tk5sPekBbizmXZ4bshNei5MszvZPoAArbM-zQxLvLZ-GWru3564bwp6OOVLXiumlg9HVBXntdvh_4LFbMFRiy03V9e5Qxs5k2gvuzt0ElYHilppr47hoieKWpK2/s200/soft+kitty.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<strong>4. Soft Kitty, Warm Kitty. </strong>I need this shirt. Because my kids really <em>do</em> sing it to me when we are at the sad part of any movie and I start getting teary. And it <em>really does help </em>to soothe me. Sing it with me: <em><a href="http://www.animationshops.com/big-bang-theory/Big-Bang-Theory-Soft-Kitty-T-Shirt-5317.aspx" target="_blank">Soft kitty</a>, warm kitty, little ball of fur.....</em><br />
<br />
<strong>5. Gift Baskets. </strong>Also, I love gift baskets--especially the food type. There is just something about all those tiny boxes tucked inside of a pretty basket. All those foods and treats that you would never think to normally buy...too expensive, too "frilly" and impractical. But when given as a <em>gift</em>, well, it would rude not to indulge. <br />
<br />
Check back in for more Geek Gift Ideas, and feel free to leave suggestions for your favorite geeky or writerly gift. I will keep adding more ideas as the holidays creep closer!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08252890741829487017noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-598544278562595293.post-20560834747180602812012-11-28T10:24:00.002-08:002012-11-28T10:24:40.764-08:00Give Me My SilenceI cannot write with music playing. On a good day, I can block out the sound of the television--but definitely <u>not</u> the television <em>and</em> the dishwasher <em>and </em>kids playing. My brain can only block out so much, and then it all comes crashing in, overwhelming me, suffocating me. Apparently, it is a form of Auditory Processing Disorder. <br />
<br />
I have always known that I was <u>not</u> an auditory learner. I need to <em>see</em> things, to <em>touch</em> things in order to properly commit them to memory. Things that I merely hear quickly evaporate into the ether--not because I am not listening, or because I do not care, but because that is how my brain works. <br />
<br />
But things I <em>read</em> or <em>write...</em>well, they<em> </em>are ingrained in my mind for all time.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoW6qcFcDM381wFkazq6PRFtUlOOG7Nd-EdTjofWZyU-wAmZZid7S3qATvENJ09wTuaODMslXlSSF1XwaN5KlgokDcYN4FuXHznhZj0PtbNYvXVEKOxxBRw2DDE9uqzEcaRvr6eceJZfpT/s1600/PEN.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoW6qcFcDM381wFkazq6PRFtUlOOG7Nd-EdTjofWZyU-wAmZZid7S3qATvENJ09wTuaODMslXlSSF1XwaN5KlgokDcYN4FuXHznhZj0PtbNYvXVEKOxxBRw2DDE9uqzEcaRvr6eceJZfpT/s320/PEN.jpg" tea="true" width="320" /></a></div>
I never noticed a problem with this while in school. I never received low grades or strained to learn. No, I always took meticulous notes and read and re-read them. I never sat still during lectures; instead, I spent the hours scribbling away the key bits so I could commit them to memory later. Apparently, even at an early age, I found a work-around--without ever even realizing it. Perhaps I simply knew my strengths. <br />
<br />
I grew up in a very quiet house. A product of the 70s, I was a "latch key kid" and spent a lot of time alone. Alone was quiet. So, I only realized I had a problem later in life, when my three kids became old enough to create a constant low-roar in our home. This--combined with the rattle of the dishes washing, the churn of the laundry swishing around the washing machine, the clatter of cats chasing one another through the house, and the hum of the television that no one seemed to be watching--it all seemed...<strong><em>too much</em>! </strong>It was overwhelming. <br />
<br />
Strange that so many noises, which if taken on their own might be considered soothing, or lulling, when combined seem to rankle, to jar, to agitate. Yet, they do...for me at least.<br />
<br />
When people talk about listening to music when they write, I shudder as I imagine <em>one more noise </em>that I must try to block out in order to hear my own thoughts.<br />
<br />
By all means, crank up the music if that helps you. But for me...give me my silence. The quiet of a cold winter's night, the gentle whispers of my characters, and the tapping of my keys to keep me company while. Somewhere, in another room, the rhythmic breathing of sleeping children can be heard faintly. <br />
<br />
This gentle, near-silence surrounds me with peace.<br />
<br />
<strong><em>What about you? </em></strong>Do you listen to music when you write?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08252890741829487017noreply@blogger.com5