By Tuesday, I'll probably be in Port Elgin and I'm looking forward to my mini-escape, once I get everything ready. This morning, I was reminded of the plans I had three years ago. At that time, I was planning to get away to Mexico for a week. It didn't happen and I was disappointed that I couldn't afford it. These days, I'm happy to be able to get as far away as Port Elgin.
It's a good thing my imagination can take me anywhere I want to go, even if it takes me to some places I don't want to see.
I'll be unplugged again while I'm away and that could a bonus. Maybe I'll get an outline done, maybe I won't. But it's unlikely there will be any inerruptions from outside the self, that is. If the weather is perfect, I'll spend lots of time outside and even have a camp-fire; and if it isn't - I'll have books and the radio. I'm hoping for clear nights so I can see the stars and maybe see the way ahead too.
Saturday, August 20, 2005
Thursday, August 04, 2005
Unplugged
Yesterday was hot, humid and smoggy, so at about 3 p.m. after checking my e-mails I went for a swim. It was a 'free transit' day since the local bus company is trying to promote using its services to save the environment. That was a bonus and when I returned home, I was cool and relaxed and I didn't use the computer or try to use the phone until after 10 p.m. That's when I discovered the phone line was dead.
I was unplugged. Unable to communicate by phone or by internet, and that upset me. What if I missed an urgent call - I wasn't expecting one, but what if? Or what if there was an urgent freelance work e-mail message - I wasn't expecting one, but what if? It took a while to shut off the worry machine, a long while.
This morning, I was out by 7 a.m. and used the closest pay phone to call Bell Canada. Their representative was minimally helpful - someone would come over by Monday at the latest. I think at this point I yelled - "what do you mean Monday? This is Thursday morning!" There had to be a better response because I was pretty sure this was Ma Bell's fault. At 8 a.m. I found our building superintendant and asked if a Bell technician had been in yesterday.
"Sure" she said. "He was hooking up unit 503."
Well since unit 503 is right across the hall from me my suspicions were well-founded. Another trip to the pay phone and another call to Ma Bell to give the technical people more information and to state that I was 99-and-a-half percent sure that this "service interruption" was their fault.
Service was "restored." That's how they refer to it, by 9.15 a.m. But if I hadn't followed-up I'd still be waiting and waiting.
I'm thinking about getting a cell phone, but I probably won't. I'll just hope that my neighbour doesn't move out in the near future.
I wonder if my dependence on technology is a good thing but I'm stuck on it and stuck with it too.
I was unplugged. Unable to communicate by phone or by internet, and that upset me. What if I missed an urgent call - I wasn't expecting one, but what if? Or what if there was an urgent freelance work e-mail message - I wasn't expecting one, but what if? It took a while to shut off the worry machine, a long while.
This morning, I was out by 7 a.m. and used the closest pay phone to call Bell Canada. Their representative was minimally helpful - someone would come over by Monday at the latest. I think at this point I yelled - "what do you mean Monday? This is Thursday morning!" There had to be a better response because I was pretty sure this was Ma Bell's fault. At 8 a.m. I found our building superintendant and asked if a Bell technician had been in yesterday.
"Sure" she said. "He was hooking up unit 503."
Well since unit 503 is right across the hall from me my suspicions were well-founded. Another trip to the pay phone and another call to Ma Bell to give the technical people more information and to state that I was 99-and-a-half percent sure that this "service interruption" was their fault.
Service was "restored." That's how they refer to it, by 9.15 a.m. But if I hadn't followed-up I'd still be waiting and waiting.
I'm thinking about getting a cell phone, but I probably won't. I'll just hope that my neighbour doesn't move out in the near future.
I wonder if my dependence on technology is a good thing but I'm stuck on it and stuck with it too.
Thursday, July 21, 2005
Becoming 'Sexy'
Some days ago, I found out via e-mail that there will be a writing worshop day in Port Elgin on August 27th. The Brucedale Press was looking for authors to read and to give workshops. I'd never heard of this event but since no one has heard of me either, I decided to offer my services.
I didn't expect to be taken seriously, but now I've been hired. I'm a "presenter" and will read my work in the morning and be part of a panel. In the afternoon, I'll run a workshop on - Writing 'Sexy' Older Characters. The organzers are just putting out the brochure now, so I don't expect a huge number of participants. In fact, I kind of hope there won't be a lot of participants since this is my first adventure of this kind.
Research is now on the agenda since I have to find some bad examples of writing older characters. But that shouldn't be too hard. I'll have 2.5 hours of workshop time and plan to make the session interesting and challenging. It will certainly be a challenge for me!
In other news, I received the judge's comments on Peach Fuzz and Sunflowers and also was told that I could make small changes in the story before it goes to print. The only suggestion from the judge was that the story could be more dramatic if it were written from only one point of view. Well, I thought about this. Hell - I stewed and fussed and fumed about it in typical cranky crab fashion. I can't do it. So, the story will go to the typesetter later today with some minor text changes.
Nancy and Frank senior are home safe after their trip to England and my grandsons are having a lazy summer and enjoying it. Sammy who turned eleven in July is a ferocious reader and devours his library books so quickly that he runs out of reading material before a trip to the library is scheduled. So, his father has given him a Michael Chriton book to fill the gap. I'll have to look through my collection and see what I can give Sam for the awful times when he temporarily runs out of books.
I didn't expect to be taken seriously, but now I've been hired. I'm a "presenter" and will read my work in the morning and be part of a panel. In the afternoon, I'll run a workshop on - Writing 'Sexy' Older Characters. The organzers are just putting out the brochure now, so I don't expect a huge number of participants. In fact, I kind of hope there won't be a lot of participants since this is my first adventure of this kind.
Research is now on the agenda since I have to find some bad examples of writing older characters. But that shouldn't be too hard. I'll have 2.5 hours of workshop time and plan to make the session interesting and challenging. It will certainly be a challenge for me!
In other news, I received the judge's comments on Peach Fuzz and Sunflowers and also was told that I could make small changes in the story before it goes to print. The only suggestion from the judge was that the story could be more dramatic if it were written from only one point of view. Well, I thought about this. Hell - I stewed and fussed and fumed about it in typical cranky crab fashion. I can't do it. So, the story will go to the typesetter later today with some minor text changes.
Nancy and Frank senior are home safe after their trip to England and my grandsons are having a lazy summer and enjoying it. Sammy who turned eleven in July is a ferocious reader and devours his library books so quickly that he runs out of reading material before a trip to the library is scheduled. So, his father has given him a Michael Chriton book to fill the gap. I'll have to look through my collection and see what I can give Sam for the awful times when he temporarily runs out of books.
Thursday, June 30, 2005
Back here on Earth and Practicing Harassment
I had a great time but now my feet are on the ground. They would be in the mud if there was any, because then they would be cooler.
By Saturday, or Sunday, or sometime down the road it is supposed to be a civilized temperature. All this heat is making me grumpy. Yesterday I told a friend who is not a writer that if she wanted to read my prize winning short story, she should consider buying the book. Now that was very bold of me - or was it? Yes, I'm delighted to be published and I must say that I don't even know what "rights" are involved yet since I neglected to check (didn't think I'd win) and now the information is not on the website. Fiction writers are the last to know, I guess and maybe we are expected to be humbly grateful.
But, after reading about the "literary" Canadian writers who have contributed so much to us, yet now live in poverty I've decided to get tough with my non-writng friends who can afford to buy books. Afer all, I'm not the only writer in that book and the Niagara Branch of the CAA takes a lot of time and trouble to try and produce something good.
The Canadian Writers Foundation is really struggling to provide financial support to writers who are "national treasures" but later in life are stuck in poverty. My friend Lori and I are considering an idea that may help. It's too soon to say whether we will be able to go forward with it.
In the meantime, I intend to stick with my "buy the book" stance whenever it seems right to me. At least one of my better-off friends wants to buy several copies. I'll have to remind her of her promise when the book comes out in September.
By Saturday, or Sunday, or sometime down the road it is supposed to be a civilized temperature. All this heat is making me grumpy. Yesterday I told a friend who is not a writer that if she wanted to read my prize winning short story, she should consider buying the book. Now that was very bold of me - or was it? Yes, I'm delighted to be published and I must say that I don't even know what "rights" are involved yet since I neglected to check (didn't think I'd win) and now the information is not on the website. Fiction writers are the last to know, I guess and maybe we are expected to be humbly grateful.
But, after reading about the "literary" Canadian writers who have contributed so much to us, yet now live in poverty I've decided to get tough with my non-writng friends who can afford to buy books. Afer all, I'm not the only writer in that book and the Niagara Branch of the CAA takes a lot of time and trouble to try and produce something good.
The Canadian Writers Foundation is really struggling to provide financial support to writers who are "national treasures" but later in life are stuck in poverty. My friend Lori and I are considering an idea that may help. It's too soon to say whether we will be able to go forward with it.
In the meantime, I intend to stick with my "buy the book" stance whenever it seems right to me. At least one of my better-off friends wants to buy several copies. I'll have to remind her of her promise when the book comes out in September.
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
Floating Down Gently
The last few days have been so exciting. Lori arrived from Calgary on Thursday morning and it felt like I'd known her forever. Nancy, Lori and I went out for a birthday lunch, the first of a round of celebrations, and had a great time together.
I was so happy I didn't even think of checking my mailbox. Good thing since there was a rejection notice in it. Why do editors take seven months to say no?
But never mind that, it was a very minor downer in what turned out to be a great weekend. The conference was informative and fun. But the best thing was meeting other writers. Some of the folk from the Kelley Armstrong board were there and putting faces to the names was great fun. In a lot of ways, the whole event was a case of so many people I wanted to talk to and not quite enough time to do everything.
I don't think I've stayed up until 1 a.m. two nights in a row, for a long long time and I'm still very tired, but I'm so glad I did. Lori and I were treated to birthday drinks and then of course the banquet was held in our honour, or so we chose to think.
We "ate out" the whole time, and since my apartment had already been put in a pristine state there was nothing to do but enjoy ourselves and we did, oh we certainly did.
Lori left Sunday afternoon and I came home still to revved up to relax, or even to make food. I ate out again, but this time it was Tim Hortons in honour of budget retraint.
Monday mornng I got a phone call from Sandi Plewis of the Niagara branch of the CAA. Well, actually I was on the internet and found a message when I disconnected. I had to call back long distance. At this point I started to get that thumping in the chest. Would she be calling ne if there wasn't good news? Probably not, but I couldn't be sure because all the message said was - would I call back. I did, and she told me I'd won second prize in the Ten Stories High contest.
I coudn't tell you what I said to her - it's just a blank but it must have been somewhat coherent. She gave me instructions on how to send the text to her for the printer (msword doc attachment) and requested a bio (5o words or less). She also told me the presentation and author (hey - that's me!) readings will be held September 24th in the afternoon.
After the phone call, I screamed. It's a wonder someone didn't come knocking on my door to see if everything was all right. Euphoria is the word, but even that word seems understated for how I felt. Yes, yes yes! I kept saying that out loud and I danced around the living room.
The bottle of red wine that Lori and I didn't get around to opening got opened and I toasted myself, and Lori, and every other writer who has experienced that unique feeling. Then I contacted everyone who would care enough to congratulate me, starting with Nancy and Lori. The congratulations came pouring in and I soaked them up, even revelled in them.
This morning I still have a quiet glow. Reality has taken me down from the ceiling, but gently.
I was so happy I didn't even think of checking my mailbox. Good thing since there was a rejection notice in it. Why do editors take seven months to say no?
But never mind that, it was a very minor downer in what turned out to be a great weekend. The conference was informative and fun. But the best thing was meeting other writers. Some of the folk from the Kelley Armstrong board were there and putting faces to the names was great fun. In a lot of ways, the whole event was a case of so many people I wanted to talk to and not quite enough time to do everything.
I don't think I've stayed up until 1 a.m. two nights in a row, for a long long time and I'm still very tired, but I'm so glad I did. Lori and I were treated to birthday drinks and then of course the banquet was held in our honour, or so we chose to think.
We "ate out" the whole time, and since my apartment had already been put in a pristine state there was nothing to do but enjoy ourselves and we did, oh we certainly did.
Lori left Sunday afternoon and I came home still to revved up to relax, or even to make food. I ate out again, but this time it was Tim Hortons in honour of budget retraint.
Monday mornng I got a phone call from Sandi Plewis of the Niagara branch of the CAA. Well, actually I was on the internet and found a message when I disconnected. I had to call back long distance. At this point I started to get that thumping in the chest. Would she be calling ne if there wasn't good news? Probably not, but I couldn't be sure because all the message said was - would I call back. I did, and she told me I'd won second prize in the Ten Stories High contest.
I coudn't tell you what I said to her - it's just a blank but it must have been somewhat coherent. She gave me instructions on how to send the text to her for the printer (msword doc attachment) and requested a bio (5o words or less). She also told me the presentation and author (hey - that's me!) readings will be held September 24th in the afternoon.
After the phone call, I screamed. It's a wonder someone didn't come knocking on my door to see if everything was all right. Euphoria is the word, but even that word seems understated for how I felt. Yes, yes yes! I kept saying that out loud and I danced around the living room.
The bottle of red wine that Lori and I didn't get around to opening got opened and I toasted myself, and Lori, and every other writer who has experienced that unique feeling. Then I contacted everyone who would care enough to congratulate me, starting with Nancy and Lori. The congratulations came pouring in and I soaked them up, even revelled in them.
This morning I still have a quiet glow. Reality has taken me down from the ceiling, but gently.
Tuesday, June 21, 2005
Motorcycle Mama!
I'd like to be one, sometimes. Mama is what my grandsons call me instead of grandma because they have two grandmothers. Friday evening there was a big Show and Shine event held by local motorcycle enthusiasts just down the street from my place. I had to go because proceeds of tee shirt sales and money raised by participants in the Ride for Dad held on Saturday went to support prostate cancer research.
Okay, okay. I really went to see the bikes and the riders. Of course most of the riders are older guys. Who else can afford those huge Harleys, and Hondas, with a few other Japanese brands thrown in? It was bliss. Lots of chrome to admire, old rock n' roll playing and free Tim's coffee. I bougt a tee shirt and gave it to Gary for Father's day and because now he has a new motorcycle (new to him anyway).
The motorcycle saga started when Nancy got her first one at 20 (I think). She later sold it. A couple of years ago she got another one, then Gary got one too. The cost of insuring the bikes went through the roof, so they sold both bikes a few weeks ago. But then, their accountant said that if Gary got a bike and used it for business purposes, which was something he had been doing anyway, they could write off the cost of the bike and the insurance. So, now Gary has a motorcyle again. I imagine Nancy might get to use it sometimes too. But it isn't likely I'll get a ride on it so I'll have to remember riding on the back of her cherry red Suzuki.
Sam's dance performance weekend went well, but it was a long slog for him. At the theatre for 6 hours on Friday evening and the same thing again on Saturday afternoon. He's decided to sign up for next year so I guess the fact that he hated one of his costumes and was very vocal about it that didn't change his mind about performing.
It's already Tuesday and there's still lots to do to get ready for Lori's visit and for the conference. It's strange to try on clothes that have been in the back of the closet and wonder why I ever bought them in the first place. Or is it because most of my better clothes are at least six years old and in the interim some of my body parts have grown and have drifted further south? In the end, I'll opt for comfort, as I almost always do. The forecast for Friday is hot and humid so that will determine the outfit.
I'm planning to enjoy every moment.
Okay, okay. I really went to see the bikes and the riders. Of course most of the riders are older guys. Who else can afford those huge Harleys, and Hondas, with a few other Japanese brands thrown in? It was bliss. Lots of chrome to admire, old rock n' roll playing and free Tim's coffee. I bougt a tee shirt and gave it to Gary for Father's day and because now he has a new motorcycle (new to him anyway).
The motorcycle saga started when Nancy got her first one at 20 (I think). She later sold it. A couple of years ago she got another one, then Gary got one too. The cost of insuring the bikes went through the roof, so they sold both bikes a few weeks ago. But then, their accountant said that if Gary got a bike and used it for business purposes, which was something he had been doing anyway, they could write off the cost of the bike and the insurance. So, now Gary has a motorcyle again. I imagine Nancy might get to use it sometimes too. But it isn't likely I'll get a ride on it so I'll have to remember riding on the back of her cherry red Suzuki.
Sam's dance performance weekend went well, but it was a long slog for him. At the theatre for 6 hours on Friday evening and the same thing again on Saturday afternoon. He's decided to sign up for next year so I guess the fact that he hated one of his costumes and was very vocal about it that didn't change his mind about performing.
It's already Tuesday and there's still lots to do to get ready for Lori's visit and for the conference. It's strange to try on clothes that have been in the back of the closet and wonder why I ever bought them in the first place. Or is it because most of my better clothes are at least six years old and in the interim some of my body parts have grown and have drifted further south? In the end, I'll opt for comfort, as I almost always do. The forecast for Friday is hot and humid so that will determine the outfit.
I'm planning to enjoy every moment.
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
I've been Drafted - or I should say Dragooned
Last night, I went to the CAA Branch meeting. Turns out it was the Annual Meeting night and before I knew it, somehow I became the secretary for the Branch. I think I said something about being interested in maybe working on the newsletter. Well, they do have a new volunteer for that so now I'm the secretary, for the time being.
There was a lot of discussion about the Conference and it is looking better all the time. The branch may actually have to close registration since there is only a certain amount of room at the Walper Hotel.
The "goodie bags" will be phenomenal. They are not even sure how to get all the freebies into the bags! Books, lots of books and many other things too.
The hot gossip - certain, prominent members wanted detailed information on the location of the nearest bar(s). Oh, you are not suprised by this.
There was also a speaker last night, a woman who writes war poems. She read from her work and spoke about her relationships with war veterans. And, I had the greatest difficulty in keeping my opinion to myself. Only one or two people ever read this so I'm sure she never will. She believes that no "war poet" who hasn't been in a war should write "as if" they were there. Well, yes, but then again I don't think it's beyond the pale. It's possible, maybe barely possible, but possible just the same, that someone could succeed in doing this. I do agree that war should not be romanticized in any way.
Perhaps what perturbed me the most was the way she romanticized her personal relationships with veterans (although it is not overt in the few poems she read). When she was talking about the Vets with me later - she referred to them as her boys and I wanted to give her hell, but I didn't. Attachment to Veterans is something I understand. I still miss my "guys" (even though a lot of the ones I worked with at Sunnybrook and other places are dead now) but never in this world would I have referred to them as boys. Some would have resented it, others would have taken advantage of it, and still others would have refused to talk to me.
In the end, it just motivated me to start writing more stories, using what I know. Guess I should be grateful.
There was a lot of discussion about the Conference and it is looking better all the time. The branch may actually have to close registration since there is only a certain amount of room at the Walper Hotel.
The "goodie bags" will be phenomenal. They are not even sure how to get all the freebies into the bags! Books, lots of books and many other things too.
The hot gossip - certain, prominent members wanted detailed information on the location of the nearest bar(s). Oh, you are not suprised by this.
There was also a speaker last night, a woman who writes war poems. She read from her work and spoke about her relationships with war veterans. And, I had the greatest difficulty in keeping my opinion to myself. Only one or two people ever read this so I'm sure she never will. She believes that no "war poet" who hasn't been in a war should write "as if" they were there. Well, yes, but then again I don't think it's beyond the pale. It's possible, maybe barely possible, but possible just the same, that someone could succeed in doing this. I do agree that war should not be romanticized in any way.
Perhaps what perturbed me the most was the way she romanticized her personal relationships with veterans (although it is not overt in the few poems she read). When she was talking about the Vets with me later - she referred to them as her boys and I wanted to give her hell, but I didn't. Attachment to Veterans is something I understand. I still miss my "guys" (even though a lot of the ones I worked with at Sunnybrook and other places are dead now) but never in this world would I have referred to them as boys. Some would have resented it, others would have taken advantage of it, and still others would have refused to talk to me.
In the end, it just motivated me to start writing more stories, using what I know. Guess I should be grateful.
Friday, June 03, 2005
June - Dreamy Time
This morning it is not all that hot, but it is humid. June humidity. There's something about it that makes me remember sitting in elementary school classrooms in June and drifitng off to somewhere/anywhere else. Maybe young kids should have a longer summer break, because I don't ever remember learning a single thing in June. At least not any academic thing.
I'm sure it's hard for the teachers to get the kids to pay any attention so I hope they have "covered" the essential parts of the curriculum by now. I know that Frank and Sam are already thinking about summer, and camping, and all the boy-things that have nothing to do with school.
All the summer birthdays are coming up soon too. Frank's on the 24th then mine and my friend Lori's, then Sam's in early July. As the boys get older it's more difficult to know what they would like. I may have to resort to gift certificates since their tastes and interests change very quickly.
I don't know all the summer plans yet. Maybe I will stay with the boys at the trailer for a week, if I'm persuaded. I'd also really like a week on my own up there but will have to wait and see what the plans are. Or, maybe I only think I'd like a week away from everything (the computer, the television) and everyone.
The last time I went on a "retreat" was a good ten years ago and it was excellent. I stayed at a camp that is very busy in the summer, but was very quiet in the springtime. There were places to walk, a quiet room with only the bare necessities and meals were available at set times. I did lots and lots of walking, I guess really it was walking-meditation, since I was trying to decide on a number of things.
Maybe I'll investigate what's available for later on in the summer or the fall, if I don't get the opportunity to stay at Nancy and Gary's trailer.
I'm sure it's hard for the teachers to get the kids to pay any attention so I hope they have "covered" the essential parts of the curriculum by now. I know that Frank and Sam are already thinking about summer, and camping, and all the boy-things that have nothing to do with school.
All the summer birthdays are coming up soon too. Frank's on the 24th then mine and my friend Lori's, then Sam's in early July. As the boys get older it's more difficult to know what they would like. I may have to resort to gift certificates since their tastes and interests change very quickly.
I don't know all the summer plans yet. Maybe I will stay with the boys at the trailer for a week, if I'm persuaded. I'd also really like a week on my own up there but will have to wait and see what the plans are. Or, maybe I only think I'd like a week away from everything (the computer, the television) and everyone.
The last time I went on a "retreat" was a good ten years ago and it was excellent. I stayed at a camp that is very busy in the summer, but was very quiet in the springtime. There were places to walk, a quiet room with only the bare necessities and meals were available at set times. I did lots and lots of walking, I guess really it was walking-meditation, since I was trying to decide on a number of things.
Maybe I'll investigate what's available for later on in the summer or the fall, if I don't get the opportunity to stay at Nancy and Gary's trailer.
Saturday, May 28, 2005
Picasso, The Muse and musings
It's been a fairly productive writing week for me and I'm temporarily pleased about that. Why does being happy about it never last for long? There's always something else lurking and pushing me along. I guess it's the nature of the writing beast.
I've been having a great time though, discussing economics and politics on one of the internet sites I frequent. Sometimes the people who post there infuriate me and sometimes they amuse me and occasionally they cause me to think about something in a new way. It's easy to become insular when I spend so much time alone. Or maybe that's just my excuse. 'Posting' does take more of my time than it should. Now I've given up one not-so-productive habit and acquired another.
I made my usual Saturday afternoon pigrimage to the free movie at the library. This week it was "Surviving Picasso" and I came away from it wondering how he managed to get all his women (and I use his advisedly) to subsume themselves in his life. I guess it was his enormous talent, his ego and his magnetic sexuality/personality. Damn, I wish I could find a magnet that would do that. Sometimes it would be just peachy to have someone at my beck and call so that I could commune with my muse.
But then I wouldn't be able to send them away when I wanted to work. Conscience I suppose and the blessing and curse, the ability to know how someone else feels. I doubt that Picasso cared about how anyone felt. It simply didn't matter. I detest a lot of his work and he was a monster in some respects but Guernica will stand and perhaps that's his legacy to the world.
I've been having a great time though, discussing economics and politics on one of the internet sites I frequent. Sometimes the people who post there infuriate me and sometimes they amuse me and occasionally they cause me to think about something in a new way. It's easy to become insular when I spend so much time alone. Or maybe that's just my excuse. 'Posting' does take more of my time than it should. Now I've given up one not-so-productive habit and acquired another.
I made my usual Saturday afternoon pigrimage to the free movie at the library. This week it was "Surviving Picasso" and I came away from it wondering how he managed to get all his women (and I use his advisedly) to subsume themselves in his life. I guess it was his enormous talent, his ego and his magnetic sexuality/personality. Damn, I wish I could find a magnet that would do that. Sometimes it would be just peachy to have someone at my beck and call so that I could commune with my muse.
But then I wouldn't be able to send them away when I wanted to work. Conscience I suppose and the blessing and curse, the ability to know how someone else feels. I doubt that Picasso cared about how anyone felt. It simply didn't matter. I detest a lot of his work and he was a monster in some respects but Guernica will stand and perhaps that's his legacy to the world.
Friday, May 20, 2005
"Ready to Serve"
One of our local supermarkets uses the slogan "Ready to Serve." Well, so am I. It could happen at any moment. I looked in my closet to see of my Superheroine cape was still there and I found it. I can't locate my magic wand yet but it must be around here someplace.
What prompts me to get ready? I received an e-mail from a dear friend I used to work with at a certain Community Centre. It seems that a lot of staff are going to be away on the long weekend and I have been named as a back-up management person. This nonsense has given me a huge laugh, because I left the job I had there due to political shenannigans four years ago. It seems that I have not been forgotten and so I'm searching for my cape and my wand.
Mind you, I may have to lend it to Belinda Stronach. She might need a new image, an identity fix if you like, now that she has become a Liberal. It's more than odd, but I have a small sneaking sympathy for her. Maybe because I butted heads with people in power and failed to conince them I was right, or should I say correct, since I lean to the left. Or maybe my sympathy is evoked because she has been called such horrible things. Eventually we'll find out what her motives are but in the meantime I think I believe her.
What prompts me to get ready? I received an e-mail from a dear friend I used to work with at a certain Community Centre. It seems that a lot of staff are going to be away on the long weekend and I have been named as a back-up management person. This nonsense has given me a huge laugh, because I left the job I had there due to political shenannigans four years ago. It seems that I have not been forgotten and so I'm searching for my cape and my wand.
Mind you, I may have to lend it to Belinda Stronach. She might need a new image, an identity fix if you like, now that she has become a Liberal. It's more than odd, but I have a small sneaking sympathy for her. Maybe because I butted heads with people in power and failed to conince them I was right, or should I say correct, since I lean to the left. Or maybe my sympathy is evoked because she has been called such horrible things. Eventually we'll find out what her motives are but in the meantime I think I believe her.
Monday, May 16, 2005
JEOPARDY!- Alex,. I'm Leaving You.
It's all my friend R.'s fault. Once upon a time, I didn't watch the television program "Jeopardy" with any regularity, but now, I'm hooked on it. And not because I know most of the answers, I don't. In fact, watching it makes me realize there are great gaps in my knowledge of geography, history, sports (especially sports) Americana and probably every other category too.
This evening, there was a match to determine the last person who will be in the "Ultimate Tournament of Champiions" (yes Ken Jennings will appear too). The runaway winner of the quiz I just watched was an American writer. He seemed to know so much about so many categories, and I was left with the question - When does the man write? Not to mention, though I will, what the heck does he read aside from all the factual stuff he must have read. Maybe he's one of those people who has a visual memory and everything he's ever read is stored in his video brain.
My grandson is somewhat like that - once he's read a fact, he always remembers it and he can quote it almost verbatim. As for me, perhaps my memory is something like a giant pudding of mixed up things, a trifle. Because I can remember both large events and small ones if they happened at a significant time in my own life. If they didn't; I couldn't tell you much.
Once the "Ultimate Tournament of Champions" is over will the program go off the air? I don't imagine so, but it will in my house. Spring is trying to get here. It made a brief appearance but didn't sign the contract. It will be back for another round of negotiations, but I'm not signing the next watch Jeopardy contract. I'm giving it up, right after the tournament is over so that I can make friends with spring. I promise.
After all, acording to the interesting quiz my friend Lori sent me, I'm a Cultural Creative person by nature.
http://quizfarm.com/test.php?q_id=23320
The test said I'm
Cultural Creative 88%
Post Modern 81%
Idealist 63%
Romanticist 63%
Existentialist 50%
Modernist 50%
Materialist 38%
Fundamentalist 13%
And therefore, I should spend more time being Creative, with a capital 'C.' I did the test twice. Why not? I'm a Cancer and we like to try things more than once. Both times it came out 88% Cultural Creative. Ah! if only these tests ensured anything.
This evening, there was a match to determine the last person who will be in the "Ultimate Tournament of Champiions" (yes Ken Jennings will appear too). The runaway winner of the quiz I just watched was an American writer. He seemed to know so much about so many categories, and I was left with the question - When does the man write? Not to mention, though I will, what the heck does he read aside from all the factual stuff he must have read. Maybe he's one of those people who has a visual memory and everything he's ever read is stored in his video brain.
My grandson is somewhat like that - once he's read a fact, he always remembers it and he can quote it almost verbatim. As for me, perhaps my memory is something like a giant pudding of mixed up things, a trifle. Because I can remember both large events and small ones if they happened at a significant time in my own life. If they didn't; I couldn't tell you much.
Once the "Ultimate Tournament of Champions" is over will the program go off the air? I don't imagine so, but it will in my house. Spring is trying to get here. It made a brief appearance but didn't sign the contract. It will be back for another round of negotiations, but I'm not signing the next watch Jeopardy contract. I'm giving it up, right after the tournament is over so that I can make friends with spring. I promise.
After all, acording to the interesting quiz my friend Lori sent me, I'm a Cultural Creative person by nature.
http://quizfarm.com/test.php?q_id=23320
The test said I'm
Cultural Creative 88%
Post Modern 81%
Idealist 63%
Romanticist 63%
Existentialist 50%
Modernist 50%
Materialist 38%
Fundamentalist 13%
And therefore, I should spend more time being Creative, with a capital 'C.' I did the test twice. Why not? I'm a Cancer and we like to try things more than once. Both times it came out 88% Cultural Creative. Ah! if only these tests ensured anything.
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
Seesaw Margie Daw
Is it the effect of spring, or is it something else more insidious? All the federal political shenannigans, all that swinging from political trees to very little effect may be part of what's causing me to be on the seesaw too.
It's been a time of swinging up and down. Starting a story and then leaving it and then tinkering, adding a few wee bits and leaving it in the lurch again.
Theres a bird, a type of thrush I think, somewhere in the trees on a neigbour's property that starts singing at 3 a.m. and does not stop until about 7 a.m. It's confused, like me.
Could it be that what I think is angst about whether I can write fiction that will be good enough to be published is actually only butter withdrawal? I thought I was doing quite well, adjusting to the lack of high cholesterol foods, but then I had a butter dream. Skim milk in my coffee is tolerable, low fat mayo is - well, not the same, but acceptable. but healthy margarine just seems tasteless, like a tacky pop singer trying to sing an aria.
Perhaps I can push up the seesaw with a little positive action.
It's been a time of swinging up and down. Starting a story and then leaving it and then tinkering, adding a few wee bits and leaving it in the lurch again.
Theres a bird, a type of thrush I think, somewhere in the trees on a neigbour's property that starts singing at 3 a.m. and does not stop until about 7 a.m. It's confused, like me.
Could it be that what I think is angst about whether I can write fiction that will be good enough to be published is actually only butter withdrawal? I thought I was doing quite well, adjusting to the lack of high cholesterol foods, but then I had a butter dream. Skim milk in my coffee is tolerable, low fat mayo is - well, not the same, but acceptable. but healthy margarine just seems tasteless, like a tacky pop singer trying to sing an aria.
Perhaps I can push up the seesaw with a little positive action.
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
A.S.A. , I Miss You.
A little over a month ago, I finally found medical care here in K-W. Now, I'm a health centre client. I had been on a waiting list at a couple of places since moving here in 2002. Because I hadn't had a complete physical in at least four years, that was the first oder of things.
The nurse practitioner was great and the first appointment was a full hour. She took a very detailed history and set me up for some baseline tests. Okay by me. Read all the destructions, she said. I was sent for a fasting blood sugar test and some other blood tests plus an EKG. The instructions said no food or medication for at least 18 hours before the test.
My left knee has considerable damage, no cartilage, and it's been dislocated numerous times, my right ankle is also wonky (a previous bad sprain and a break) and so I take two regular strength Aspirin at night. Just two mind you. I really missed them. My knees were swollen and cranky the morning of the test. It was late afternoon before I could have anything to eat and I was longing for my Aspirin, but good doobie that I am, I waited until evening. The next set of tests didn't require givng up my dear sweet A.S.A., instead I was squashed and scanned.
Now, there is one more test I have to complete, and I won't put down the somewhat gross details here. Before completing the steps of the test, I have to abstain from aspirin for at least a week. I'm on day five. Acetominiphin is the substitute but it just doesn't do it - I want my A.S.A. back
There's been nothing in my mail box, so the potential for good news still exists. Myabe next week, or the week after that, or ... sometime.
My friend, who is very involved with Caballah tells me that this is a time of little light in the universe. But I'm hopeful that maybe what little light there is will shine in my direction.
In the meantime, A.S.A., I miss you.
The nurse practitioner was great and the first appointment was a full hour. She took a very detailed history and set me up for some baseline tests. Okay by me. Read all the destructions, she said. I was sent for a fasting blood sugar test and some other blood tests plus an EKG. The instructions said no food or medication for at least 18 hours before the test.
My left knee has considerable damage, no cartilage, and it's been dislocated numerous times, my right ankle is also wonky (a previous bad sprain and a break) and so I take two regular strength Aspirin at night. Just two mind you. I really missed them. My knees were swollen and cranky the morning of the test. It was late afternoon before I could have anything to eat and I was longing for my Aspirin, but good doobie that I am, I waited until evening. The next set of tests didn't require givng up my dear sweet A.S.A., instead I was squashed and scanned.
Now, there is one more test I have to complete, and I won't put down the somewhat gross details here. Before completing the steps of the test, I have to abstain from aspirin for at least a week. I'm on day five. Acetominiphin is the substitute but it just doesn't do it - I want my A.S.A. back
There's been nothing in my mail box, so the potential for good news still exists. Myabe next week, or the week after that, or ... sometime.
My friend, who is very involved with Caballah tells me that this is a time of little light in the universe. But I'm hopeful that maybe what little light there is will shine in my direction.
In the meantime, A.S.A., I miss you.
Wednesday, April 27, 2005
To Review or not To Review?
On Monday, I received the 'book' I mentioned in a previous post. All the way from L.A. and sent by some type of international express mail at a cost to the authors of $7.00 American. They should, perhaps, have saved their money.
I'm in a quandry because I hesitate to even call the pages between covers a book. I've stopped reading at page 81 because I have a metaphorical hangover. The number of boozy lunches in the first 80 pages gave it to me. There's lots of evidence that Trafford (that's the edition I received) does zero editing. And by golly Molly, it sure could have used more than a little. It will be an uphill sans shoes slog to finish reading the pages. And then what am I to do - give it a bad review? Decide not to review it? Send it back with a note? Send them an e-mail indicating I can't review it?
It all makes me think about what it must be like for them, or for any other author who hopes to be reviewed.
It was so cold on the weekend that I almost turned on the heat, almost. But I managed to survive without it. NOw, we have rain instead of snow so perhaps I will not have to enrich Ontario Hydro.
I have two stories started and am not sure yet how to progress with either of them. That may mean I'm foot dragging again, or maybe I'm just figuring out where they will go. I think I'll opt for being in the contemplative phase.
I'm in a quandry because I hesitate to even call the pages between covers a book. I've stopped reading at page 81 because I have a metaphorical hangover. The number of boozy lunches in the first 80 pages gave it to me. There's lots of evidence that Trafford (that's the edition I received) does zero editing. And by golly Molly, it sure could have used more than a little. It will be an uphill sans shoes slog to finish reading the pages. And then what am I to do - give it a bad review? Decide not to review it? Send it back with a note? Send them an e-mail indicating I can't review it?
It all makes me think about what it must be like for them, or for any other author who hopes to be reviewed.
It was so cold on the weekend that I almost turned on the heat, almost. But I managed to survive without it. NOw, we have rain instead of snow so perhaps I will not have to enrich Ontario Hydro.
I have two stories started and am not sure yet how to progress with either of them. That may mean I'm foot dragging again, or maybe I'm just figuring out where they will go. I think I'll opt for being in the contemplative phase.
Friday, April 22, 2005
Add, Take away, Prune, Revise, Ad Nauseum
Sometimes, my characters are just too, too demanding. May, who inhabits the short story, "May's Turn" was dissatisfied with the beginning of her story. She made that clear. Every time I re-read the story, there she was, whispering in my ear. Not quite, not yet, you haven't captured me yet.
I kept thinking about her. I'd already rewritten the story, (more than once) and received good comments on it. But I knew what she meant - it wasn't quite her story. Today, she seized me by the arm and led me back to the story. I spent all day on it. Somewhere along the way, I ate some crackers.That's all I remembered to eat. In the end, a new beginning, plus some other changes occurred to me.
Probably this story will amount to 6 or 7 printed pages (2920 words or so). How in the world can I consider writing something longer when it takes months to get back into a short story and find what's needed to make it work? At least, I think it works. I'm going to send it out while May still seems to be satisfied.
Diane
I kept thinking about her. I'd already rewritten the story, (more than once) and received good comments on it. But I knew what she meant - it wasn't quite her story. Today, she seized me by the arm and led me back to the story. I spent all day on it. Somewhere along the way, I ate some crackers.That's all I remembered to eat. In the end, a new beginning, plus some other changes occurred to me.
Probably this story will amount to 6 or 7 printed pages (2920 words or so). How in the world can I consider writing something longer when it takes months to get back into a short story and find what's needed to make it work? At least, I think it works. I'm going to send it out while May still seems to be satisfied.
Diane
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
Reading too many books about Writing
Over the last two weeks, I think I've read four books on writing. How to write, what to write, how to be motivated. What to do, what not to do, and what not. Maybe I've read too many in too short a time; because now, I'm starting to think too much about what may be wrong with every sentence before I type it. I'm sure I'll recover and it's likely I'll forget some of the advice.
Late last week, I received an e-mail from two women who have written a book together. They appeared to be asking for a book review, but I was not sure. I replied asking for clarification and now they are sending me a free review copy. Apparently, they found my name through the seniorwomen website. Since the book has been published by Trafford, it could be a stinker. But, both women said they were unhappy with Trafford and have published another edition.
I did a little free witing this week for a woman (the cousin of a close friend) who wants to bring more music into the Ottawa pubic school system. The project is a great idea and I hope she can attract the funding she needs.
On another front, the weather front, we are hoping for rain. It has been a dry spring so far. That's not good for my favourite lawn care company. Now that fertilizer, etc, has been applied, rain is needed. I check the weather forecast frquently and remember my grandmother doing the same thing. We would sit at the kitchen table and listen to the noon farm news, complete with a detailed weather forecast on the CBC. We didn't live in the country but many of our relatives were farmers and grandma was always thinking of them.
Unfortunately, I don't know how many still farm and have not been able to visit that part of Ontario since last summer when we paid a brief visit to my mothers grave. Sometimes not being able to drive is more than a nuisance.
Some positive things are happening. The outside windows of my apartment building are being cleaned today. That's a luxury. I lived in a crappy apartment builidng in Toronto for about 15 years and the outside windows were never cleaned during that time.
The other good news is - I've managed to shrink my waist, just a wee bit. But, I'll take any shrinkage as a good sign. I don't own a scale, nor do I intend to buy one. They're depressing and I don't have a place to put one. Of course that does not stop me from acquiring stuff that is not depressing but requires space.
It's time to check the mailbox.
Diane
Late last week, I received an e-mail from two women who have written a book together. They appeared to be asking for a book review, but I was not sure. I replied asking for clarification and now they are sending me a free review copy. Apparently, they found my name through the seniorwomen website. Since the book has been published by Trafford, it could be a stinker. But, both women said they were unhappy with Trafford and have published another edition.
I did a little free witing this week for a woman (the cousin of a close friend) who wants to bring more music into the Ottawa pubic school system. The project is a great idea and I hope she can attract the funding she needs.
On another front, the weather front, we are hoping for rain. It has been a dry spring so far. That's not good for my favourite lawn care company. Now that fertilizer, etc, has been applied, rain is needed. I check the weather forecast frquently and remember my grandmother doing the same thing. We would sit at the kitchen table and listen to the noon farm news, complete with a detailed weather forecast on the CBC. We didn't live in the country but many of our relatives were farmers and grandma was always thinking of them.
Unfortunately, I don't know how many still farm and have not been able to visit that part of Ontario since last summer when we paid a brief visit to my mothers grave. Sometimes not being able to drive is more than a nuisance.
Some positive things are happening. The outside windows of my apartment building are being cleaned today. That's a luxury. I lived in a crappy apartment builidng in Toronto for about 15 years and the outside windows were never cleaned during that time.
The other good news is - I've managed to shrink my waist, just a wee bit. But, I'll take any shrinkage as a good sign. I don't own a scale, nor do I intend to buy one. They're depressing and I don't have a place to put one. Of course that does not stop me from acquiring stuff that is not depressing but requires space.
It's time to check the mailbox.
Diane
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
Strange Meetings
The last few days have been a bit peculiar.
The weather has been unkind, and that's the polite way of mentioning there was snow. wind and rain all weekend. My plan to visit the garden show where my daughter's company was exhibiting had to be ditched. And, I'm not sure when I will see her since she is almost camping out at the office. The spring madness of the lawn-care business is taking over.
But, I was going to talk about strange meetings and there is a connection to my daughter. At least in the second strange meeting. There is a local woman who is a frequent and vehement speaker at every event concerning the use of pesticides in the area. Lawn care companies here follow guidelines for minimum use of pesticides. And some, like my daughter's company, are pleased to offer totally organic lawn care. But, they (the lawn care companies) are all bad-guys according to this woman. She does not seem to recognize that home owners who try to be do-it-yourselfers use way more pesticides than reputable lawn care professionals. Rant, rant rant.
I met this person last night at an editing circle. She, of course is not aware of my connection to the evil lawn-care empire. Let me admit this right now. I hoped that her writing would not impress me, because I cannot stand her. That was not the case - her writing is very good. I suppose the only thing I learned from the encounter was not to let my personal dislike stand in the way of appreciating good writing.
The other strange meeting took place in the land of dreams. Saturday night, after learning of Pope John Paul II's death, I had this dream. John Paul meets Mary. (yes, that Mary, the mother of Jesus) and they are in a small anteroom. for a moment, John Paul doesn't realize who she is. She's not wearing anything 'period,' but she is wearing blue, her symbolic colour. He of course falls prostrate at her feet. Heck, I would too, if it happened to me. Mary tells him to get up and he is quite able to, since his body has been restored to health. Then, she asks him to sit in the one chair that is available. It's a cushy chair and he would rather she sat there. But the look in her eye indicates he should keep his mouth shut. He does.
Mary tells him that everyone is proud of the great things he has done. John Paul is humble and does not say much. But then, Mary tells him that she is disappointed, not so disappointed that he will suffer, but disappointed just the same. She explains that she and God had hoped John Paul would begin to see that women should have all the same roles and rights as men in the Catholic church. She says she sent many messages to him through the women of the church, buthe did not understand how important the messages were. Then Mary tells him God has infinite patience.
Diane
The weather has been unkind, and that's the polite way of mentioning there was snow. wind and rain all weekend. My plan to visit the garden show where my daughter's company was exhibiting had to be ditched. And, I'm not sure when I will see her since she is almost camping out at the office. The spring madness of the lawn-care business is taking over.
But, I was going to talk about strange meetings and there is a connection to my daughter. At least in the second strange meeting. There is a local woman who is a frequent and vehement speaker at every event concerning the use of pesticides in the area. Lawn care companies here follow guidelines for minimum use of pesticides. And some, like my daughter's company, are pleased to offer totally organic lawn care. But, they (the lawn care companies) are all bad-guys according to this woman. She does not seem to recognize that home owners who try to be do-it-yourselfers use way more pesticides than reputable lawn care professionals. Rant, rant rant.
I met this person last night at an editing circle. She, of course is not aware of my connection to the evil lawn-care empire. Let me admit this right now. I hoped that her writing would not impress me, because I cannot stand her. That was not the case - her writing is very good. I suppose the only thing I learned from the encounter was not to let my personal dislike stand in the way of appreciating good writing.
The other strange meeting took place in the land of dreams. Saturday night, after learning of Pope John Paul II's death, I had this dream. John Paul meets Mary. (yes, that Mary, the mother of Jesus) and they are in a small anteroom. for a moment, John Paul doesn't realize who she is. She's not wearing anything 'period,' but she is wearing blue, her symbolic colour. He of course falls prostrate at her feet. Heck, I would too, if it happened to me. Mary tells him to get up and he is quite able to, since his body has been restored to health. Then, she asks him to sit in the one chair that is available. It's a cushy chair and he would rather she sat there. But the look in her eye indicates he should keep his mouth shut. He does.
Mary tells him that everyone is proud of the great things he has done. John Paul is humble and does not say much. But then, Mary tells him that she is disappointed, not so disappointed that he will suffer, but disappointed just the same. She explains that she and God had hoped John Paul would begin to see that women should have all the same roles and rights as men in the Catholic church. She says she sent many messages to him through the women of the church, buthe did not understand how important the messages were. Then Mary tells him God has infinite patience.
Diane
Thursday, March 31, 2005
Who let the snakes in?
Are there hazards to belonging to a writing group for a period of time? I'm beginning to suspect that sometimes, there are.
One of the two groups I belong to seems to be experiencing a snake invasion. Snakes have appeared on the pages of work from at least two members in the last month or so. Of course snakes are a very common symbol, handy for use by anyone. Perhaps that's why I think they should be avoided, at least most of the time.
It seems that other similarities in the writing of group members are creeping in too. It all makes me wonder if it's best to change groups when this happens. The weird thing, or maybe it's a surfeit of ego thing, is that I don't think I've been influenced much. But I've noticed that little bits of what I think of as "my style" are popping up in other people's work. That's something I was not expecting and maybe I'm just imagining it.
The group meets again tomorrow and I hope that we have seen the last of the snakes, at least for a while.
One of the two groups I belong to seems to be experiencing a snake invasion. Snakes have appeared on the pages of work from at least two members in the last month or so. Of course snakes are a very common symbol, handy for use by anyone. Perhaps that's why I think they should be avoided, at least most of the time.
It seems that other similarities in the writing of group members are creeping in too. It all makes me wonder if it's best to change groups when this happens. The weird thing, or maybe it's a surfeit of ego thing, is that I don't think I've been influenced much. But I've noticed that little bits of what I think of as "my style" are popping up in other people's work. That's something I was not expecting and maybe I'm just imagining it.
The group meets again tomorrow and I hope that we have seen the last of the snakes, at least for a while.
Monday, March 28, 2005
It's not my fault, the Movies tell me so.
This evening, after my writers group meeting I looked around my apartment and I was appalled. No, that should read I am appalled. What a muddle it all is! But now I know its not my fault and I learned this at the movies.
Our local library ran a film series called "A little bit about the Author" every Satuday afternoon this month. The films, Sylvia, The Hours, Shadowlands and Iris, all feaure British writers. My favourite of the four is Iris, and that may be because I admire Dame Judi Dench, in almost anything including the old series As Time Goes By now showing on PBS. But what was striking in all four films, after the acting and the plots, and the deaths (but I'm not going to talk about them) - was the dimness and the sheer squalor of their environments. Of course some of the dimness can be blamed on the British climate, the lack of enough electrical outlets, and the times the films portray. But the unholy messiness they lived in most of the time, well, I think that happened because they were busy writing. The films seemed to stress that.
So, now I have less stress. I know that I won't sink to spectacular depths of untidiness and dirt, because the other parts of my life intrude too often. But, if things get somewhat out-of-hand, I can blame it on my need to write, because the movies told me so.
Our local library ran a film series called "A little bit about the Author" every Satuday afternoon this month. The films, Sylvia, The Hours, Shadowlands and Iris, all feaure British writers. My favourite of the four is Iris, and that may be because I admire Dame Judi Dench, in almost anything including the old series As Time Goes By now showing on PBS. But what was striking in all four films, after the acting and the plots, and the deaths (but I'm not going to talk about them) - was the dimness and the sheer squalor of their environments. Of course some of the dimness can be blamed on the British climate, the lack of enough electrical outlets, and the times the films portray. But the unholy messiness they lived in most of the time, well, I think that happened because they were busy writing. The films seemed to stress that.
So, now I have less stress. I know that I won't sink to spectacular depths of untidiness and dirt, because the other parts of my life intrude too often. But, if things get somewhat out-of-hand, I can blame it on my need to write, because the movies told me so.
Thursday, March 24, 2005
In the beginning ...
I'm somewhat concerned about starting this blogging journey. But what does that matter? It's like any other journey I've taken. It starts and it may continue, but I don't know what the destination is. I do know something about what I intend.
Some of my thoughts on personal matters, and some of my thoughts on world and political issues (how weighty that sounds) will pop up. And, probably a lot of my thoughts on writing and whatever else I may be up to. I suspect I may not be very orderly, since being too concerned with getting every word right the first time is one of the many things I'm trying to conquer. That's why I decided to title this blog 'Free Words' at least for the time being.
The last few days have been pretty much totally unproductive as far as working on my fiction goes. It didn't - go that is. Maybe it's slack time between great ideas. I'd like to think so, but really, I haven't a clue what will be next. Three stories are out for consideration and there are a couple of others malingering here in my computer. I can't seem find a market for one, since it's not a short short or a postcard story and it falls somewhere in between genres. I don't think it's literary enough for a literary magazine. Maybe some new market will appear and I'll have another place to send it. The other story is one I like but editors haven't, at least so far. I guess one of my lessons is to just get on with it and send it out again, rather than sighing and moaning about what's happened so far. But crabs like to sigh and moan, now and then.
Now for a swift change of subject. I've been reading about the Terri Shiavo case in the U.S. and can't help thinking that the judicial system is going to have a hard time tangling with the religious right. I have not been to the U.S. for a number of years, and it's hard to believe that the average American, if there is such a person, would be in favour of seeing the court system under attack. If Shiavo had been an older person, say an older black woman without family - who would have cared and who would have known. Shaivo has become a poster woman for those on the right wing who have an agenda. I grieve for her.
I don't believe in active euthanasia, but assisting a person who is dying to have a "good death" is, it seems to me, a humane thing to do. I was very involved in my mother's last days. She wanted to die at home, and she did, surrounded by family. Because she had terminal cancer, it was easier to ensure pain control and loving care for her at home. The amount of morphine she received to control her pain may have slightly shortened the very end of her life. I don't know. I do know I chose to honour her wish and I have no regrets.
The spring lawn care season is here, at least it's here for those who sell lawn care, like my daughter and son-in-law. They have a booth at a garden show this weekend, and another show next weekend. I hope the result will be many new customers. The debate about pesticides continues in our region and I hope the regional government will not pass any silly unenforceable bylaws. I also hope more customers will buy orgainic lawn care from Nancy and Gary, but it's a tough sell.
Diane
Some of my thoughts on personal matters, and some of my thoughts on world and political issues (how weighty that sounds) will pop up. And, probably a lot of my thoughts on writing and whatever else I may be up to. I suspect I may not be very orderly, since being too concerned with getting every word right the first time is one of the many things I'm trying to conquer. That's why I decided to title this blog 'Free Words' at least for the time being.
The last few days have been pretty much totally unproductive as far as working on my fiction goes. It didn't - go that is. Maybe it's slack time between great ideas. I'd like to think so, but really, I haven't a clue what will be next. Three stories are out for consideration and there are a couple of others malingering here in my computer. I can't seem find a market for one, since it's not a short short or a postcard story and it falls somewhere in between genres. I don't think it's literary enough for a literary magazine. Maybe some new market will appear and I'll have another place to send it. The other story is one I like but editors haven't, at least so far. I guess one of my lessons is to just get on with it and send it out again, rather than sighing and moaning about what's happened so far. But crabs like to sigh and moan, now and then.
Now for a swift change of subject. I've been reading about the Terri Shiavo case in the U.S. and can't help thinking that the judicial system is going to have a hard time tangling with the religious right. I have not been to the U.S. for a number of years, and it's hard to believe that the average American, if there is such a person, would be in favour of seeing the court system under attack. If Shiavo had been an older person, say an older black woman without family - who would have cared and who would have known. Shaivo has become a poster woman for those on the right wing who have an agenda. I grieve for her.
I don't believe in active euthanasia, but assisting a person who is dying to have a "good death" is, it seems to me, a humane thing to do. I was very involved in my mother's last days. She wanted to die at home, and she did, surrounded by family. Because she had terminal cancer, it was easier to ensure pain control and loving care for her at home. The amount of morphine she received to control her pain may have slightly shortened the very end of her life. I don't know. I do know I chose to honour her wish and I have no regrets.
The spring lawn care season is here, at least it's here for those who sell lawn care, like my daughter and son-in-law. They have a booth at a garden show this weekend, and another show next weekend. I hope the result will be many new customers. The debate about pesticides continues in our region and I hope the regional government will not pass any silly unenforceable bylaws. I also hope more customers will buy orgainic lawn care from Nancy and Gary, but it's a tough sell.
Diane
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