My Rant by Konnie Enos

As a writer, I hear a lot about self-publishing. Going this way used to mean you weren’t a good enough writer to make it in the big leagues. I’ve heard this isn’t the case anymore but I’m beginning to wonder if the vast availability of new books/authors is making our reading choices less.

It’s not that there aren’t more books out there; it’s that there are fewer and fewer well written and edited books offered. I’m also starting to discover how well written a book has little to do with the author's experience or whether or not it’s self-published.

Recently I read some books that weren’t self-published and weren’t the author's first books.

One of the stories I found compelling and it kept me reading but in the end, I felt cheated. She carefully crafted the story where one young woman was in a new relationship with ALL the red flags and her four friends were worried about her but would not listen to them when they tried to voice their concerns. She ended up running off and eloping with this man and then moving to another country in Europe. Through all of this, her friends are worried about her and trying to find ways to make sure she is okay or rescue her if needed.

My problem is, in the end, the author just drops it. Leaving this woman as happily married without ever giving the reader any reasons why the marriage isn’t abusive. If you’re going to put in all those red flags then you had better tell the reader why they were false indicators or they are going to assume the young woman is still in an abusive relationship and you didn’t finish the story.

Another story I read was about a young man who experienced both abuse and bullying growing up. The abuse was bad enough the local cops were quite familiar with his family. Eventually, during one of his father’s drunken rampages, the young man managed to hit his father just hard enough to unbalance him, causing him to crash down the stairs and through a banister to his death.

The problem is the whole premise of the story is the young man thought he’d gotten away with murder so know he’s going to kill his bullies too.

One, I can’t think of a soul who wouldn’t have seen his father’s death for what it was. Self-defense. Two, in fourteen years he killed only two of his bullies and in the same way. Then he killed one lady and attempted on another (again the same way) before making three very different attempts on one lady and another attempt on a different lady all in a matter of months. Yes, killers escalate, but drastically changing his timeline and M.O.?

I also had problems with the cops taking over a decade to figure out the first attempt was murder and another couple of years to decide who his targets were while they never realized the second and third murder had anything to do with the case and never, in fourteen years, figured out who was doing it. The clues were in the story. The entire world is not so dense they can’t figure it out.

I’m just tired of reading published stories with clear flaws in their storyline or huge plot holes, clear telling, redundancies, echo, and grammatical errors. However, what really irritates me is published books with extra or missing words. Well, that irritates me in drafts too but authors should edit well enough to eliminate this issue. They should also know their craft well enough to not have plot holes, telling, redundancies, echo, and grammatical errors in their finished product.

So I’m wondering how writers go about editing their books that they are missing these issues. Do they rely on the same handful of people who can’t get these problems fixed in their work? Do they not hire a professional editor?

I’m still unpublished, but I know I need to correct any and all of the errors mentioned above so I don’t know how or why published authors aren’t making the same effort. Yes, I’ve read books by well-known authors with an error or two, which I forgive. Somehow, they missed it in the editing. But those are small, a missed or extra word here or there. One story has a wrong name in one place (confusing but oh well, it’s just one error).

I find the ones with large, glaring errors annoying.

Since I’m still unpublished, what tips do you have, for other writers, to find and eliminate these issues in their works in progress?

Let’s work together to make our writing better.

My Thoughts by Bonnie Le Hamilton

I hate all the “May the fourth be with you,” and “Happy Cinco de Mayo,” stupidity. Star Wars is fictional and Cinco de Mayo is to celebrate being Mexican as in they are proud of being Mexican rather than American, but they live in America!

And I do understand why they live here. Better standard of living, a better job and education opportunities, but it’s like the scripture that says, “No man can serve two masters.” If you love one country, you hate the other.

Yeah, that may be an unpopular opinion, but it is true.

I’ve actually started to think St. Patrick’s Day falls into the same category as Cinco de Mayo, both are celebrated more here in America then in their so-called countries of origin, and both are about celebrating the heritage of the people who immigrated from those countries.

Yeah, St. Patrick’s Day has been around longer, but to be honest, it started in America to celebrate being Irish. But what happened to being part of the American melting pot? What happened to unity? Why can’t we all just be American? Not African-American, not Irish-American, not Hispanic-American, not whatever else, just American!

I don’t consider myself Native-Dutch-English-Welch-Scottish-Irish-American, but technically I am. And I don’t look at my neighbors and see race. I see my fellow American citizens, nothing more, nothing less. And I don’t care about their skin color either.

Not that I haven’t been accused of being a racist.

I have been a couple of times.

The first time happened while I still lived at home.  

We lived on a corner, at the beginning of a cul-de-sac and I spent a lot of time watching the three youngest members of our family. I always told them to stay in our yard, and not go into the street, or outdoor playtime would be over.

And I had to haul them in from the street several times, but one time, I discovered them up the street playing with the grandkids of an older couple that lived there.

Well, they broke the rule, so I hauled them inside for breaking that rule.

The next day that couple called me racist, which is when I learned they weren’t in the street alone. I hadn’t noticed those other kids, just Ben, Dan, and Patty, that’s all. Three little kids (only the oldest was in school at the time) playing in the street! The street where cars could be, and they were too short to be seen. That was the only thing on my mind, not the fact that they were people of color.

Years later as a Navy spouse living in base housing. Think townhouses, four in a row, thin walls. I lived in the next to the last one.

I had lots of problems with noise from the neighbors blasting their stereos. Once it was my neighbors on either side trying to drown out each other, and I was caught in the middle.

I walked over to the office and complained.

A few days later I was returning home from the store when the neighbor on the end walked over and blocked my path to my door.

He looked me right in the face and said I was racist.

I asked him what proof he had.

“First, you hate rap music.”

Excuse me? I couldn’t figure out how repeatedly complaining about his loud stereo equates to him knowing I hate rap music. It couldn’t be about the complaints because the neighbors on the other side were blasting music I like! I still complained about them, almost as often as this fellow.

“Second, you’re white.”

Wait. What? “That’s a prejudicial statement in and of itself.”

“I can’t be prejudiced, I’m black.”

Behind him, his wife had buried her face in her hand shaking her head slowly. Yeah, she was smart enough to realize how dumb her husband was.

Later I talked to her about it, including asking her how she could allow her husband (the stepfather of her FOUR young daughters) to play that crap around her children.

She shrugged. “It’s just entertainment.”

“Have you listened to the words?” I know it’s changed since then, but back then, that kind stuff was mostly about degrading and raping women. It was sick.

She didn’t know what to say at the time, but a day or two later she informed me she made him move his stereo off our shared wall. I never heard that crap again. Though I have no idea if she realized that wasn’t decent stuff to be listening to, especially around impressionable children.

And I can’t be the only one who has experienced this kind of reverse discrimination since I’ve seen examples of this on social media quite recently. Do any of you have such examples?

Happy writing everyone.

Of Celebrations and Holidays by Konnie Enos

Even in stressful times, life still goes on. Babies are born, couples get married, and people still have other events, such as birthdays, to celebrate. Only in times like these, people have to change their plans.

No large family gatherings to celebrate Easter, or Mother’s Day. You can’t go to church or throw a birthday party. You can’t even have that regular lunch date with your friends. Planners have to cancel meetings, events, conferences, etc.

Parents who had been planning big parties to celebrate milestone birthdays, or Easter, with their children, find themselves having to scale back, regroup, and re-plan the whole affair.

My granddaughter celebrated both her first birthday and Easter home alone with just her parents. (Okay, technically last year was her first Easter, but she’d only been a few weeks old then.) My niece wanted to give a birthday party to her youngest, inviting all her friends. My husband and I both had conferences we had paid to attend. People all over the place are changing plans because of this.

I’ve heard of numerous churches finding ways to have their church meetings online (ZOOM, etc.) My church changed its semi-annual largest meeting to a completely online version without the large gathering of believers. My local congregation is posting our weekly lessons online.

My daughter planned my granddaughter’s birthday party to be online. The only ones in the room with her for her big day were her mom and dad. Her aunts, uncles, and grandparents had to watch it on Facebook. My niece asked about celebrating her daughter’s birthday and I suggested she do something similar. Easter for my granddaughter was also just with her parents with pictures posted after the fact. In our house? The day after Easter, we finally got some candy because some members complained about not having any, though that’s about all we did to celebrate it. (My kids are all adults.)

Now I like to plan for birthday celebrations just as I start shopping for Christmas almost as soon as the New Year starts. Because of this, I usually have all the gifts I’m getting my youngest son for the entire year purchased sometime in March. April at the latest.

This year?

Well first, I was working full-time and had no energy for shopping. Then we were in lockdown. By early April, my son asked me if I’d gotten his gift yet. I think I shocked him when I told him no. What’s worse, I didn’t even do the shopping that week. It was mid-April before I even considered it.

First, I asked all my family members to give me ideas for gifts for them. Once I started getting the suggestions back, I started shopping. Of course, the first one I got gifts for was my son, then my sister and her sister-in-law. Next, I’ll get them for my middle daughter. (I do them in order of birthdays.)

What finally spurred me into action?

My youngest son came and sat down beside me, with a long face. “My birthday is in a couple weeks.”

“I know.”

“Are we even going to be able to celebrate it?”

My immediate response was, “Of course.” Then I got to thinking about everything. Of course, I set to work making sure he’d get a gift, but I also thought of everything my daughter and niece had to go through to celebrate their daughters’ birthdays. I was thinking about how different their celebrations had to be than what their mom’s had wanted them to be. How many people are celebrating their birthdays in ways very different than they are used to?

My son is high functioning autistic. He doesn’t handle change very well.

Then it dawned on me.

We are going to celebrate his birthday exactly as we always celebrate it. At home, just those family members who live in this house. He picks the cake, dinner, and ice cream. We sing “Happy Birthday” to him. He opens any presents we got him.

For him, nothing needs to change because how we usually celebrate works just fine during all of this.

So Friday, we’re going to get ice cream and make a cake and pizza. We’re going to eat pizza and sing to him before we cut the cake. If his gift has arrived yet (which it isn’t scheduled to), he’ll open it. Then we’ll have cake and ice cream. Just like we always do.

It’s nice to know not everything has to change when the whole world is topsy-turvy.

So happy nineteenth birthday, Royce. I hope you have a day just like normal because I know you’d prefer it.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.

Be Kind by Bonnie Le Hamilton

There was a time, not too long ago, when I could have an asthma attack in public and strangers would approach me asking if I was okay or if I needed help.

There was a time, not too long ago, when I could pull out my handkerchief in public and no one would pay attention to me.

Times have changed dramatically.

During my last public asthma attack, people moved away from me in alarm! It was kind of funny because I was sitting in my car. I’d just finished a trip to the store but had to stop to take my inhaler before I could start my car and leave.

I mean really, my windows were closed! And yes, I was coughing, but I also had my inhaler in my hand.  

Though it isn’t as funny when I pull my handkerchief out in public, my word you would think I pulled out a gun or a grenade! People moving further away while others give me dirty looks.

Come on people! I have asthma and hay fever! I don’t have a temp or sore throat or anything. Besides all that, I just had my checkup. I promise none of my medical issues are contagious.

If I were sick, I’d have found someone to run to the store for me. I wouldn’t want anyone to catch this virus from me, but I’m not sick and I haven’t been exposed as far as I know.

Of course, that isn’t going to stop people from complaining on Facebook. I see someone else complaining almost daily, about other people being out and about and/or not wearing a mask, or wearing them wrong.

Just the other day I saw a post by someone I personally know complaining about how many people were at Walmart and Lowes that day. He griped about them spending their stimulus money on frivolous things and it was supposed to be for bills, and he griped about how many people weren’t even wearing masks.

Okay, let’s boil this down. How does he know they’re spending their stimulus money? How does he even know all of them have received their stimulus money? I haven’t yet and I don’t think I’m the only one.

Besides, how does he know those people weren’t among the “essential workers” who had just received his regular paycheck. And there is also the possibility that someone just got their tax return. Slim, but it could happen.

As far as the lack of mask and gloves go. First, there is a major shortage of such things, and second, it could be that some of those people have asthma. I for one find those things hard to breathe under, and I’d rather not wear them.

The thing is, no one person can know what is going on in the minds of someone else. I mean did it ever occur to you that among all those other people is someone thinking the same thing about you?

Every time I see these posts, I want to yell, “But you were out too!”

Then there are the people who complain about the people driving past their house when everyone should be staying home! 

Excuse me, but the “essential workers” can’t stay home, and as far as I know, we are allowed to go shopping for necessities, why else would the stores still be open?

Just because they are driving past doesn’t mean you know where they are going or what they are doing. Because you don’t!

I’ve also seen people complaining about their neighbors working or playing in their own backyards! Come on folks, the order is to stay home! Since when is the yard not part of the home?

Though I guess some people think that is a very bad thing, I saw a news article about some state governor (somewhere back East) who was threatening to use drones to make sure everyone was staying inside, and where not in their own yards!

If I were the swearing type, I’d be swearing right now. That’s just wrong! Especially since I read somewhere something about a doctor saying getting outside for some exercise and sunshine would be good for everyone during this time, as long as they maintained safe distances from everyone else.

But the most important thing I’m trying to say is, well, Matthew 7:1-2.

Maybe some of you aren’t Christian and don’t know this little piece of wisdom, but I am, and I know it is true. So here it is:

“1 Judge not, that ye be not judged.

2 For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again.”

But really, you can’t know what someone else is doing or thinking, so be kind!

Happy writing everyone.

Funnies by Konnie Enos

Recently I had some funny events in my life brought to my attention. The first three happened in the same hospital. Twice I was “the patient”. All three times my stepmother, an employee there, was involved. The other nurse was different each time.

The first one happened while I was still in high school. Margo (stepmother) took Bonnie, our niece, and me to where she worked and introduced us to a co-worker. (Let’s note here that she and our Dad were attempting to adopt our niece and Bonnie and I are only TEN years younger than she is.)

Margo introduced all three of us as her daughters but her colleague didn’t react. She didn’t even twitch when we talked about our family members were coming to town to celebrate our graduation. 

She finally asked if we were graduating from sixth or seventh grade.

“No, high school. We’re nearly 20!” (Yes, we were behind and graduated less than a month before our 20^th birthday.)

“You can’t be Margo’s daughters!”

“Well, duh. She’s married to our father.”

Then there’s the time I had surgery. Yes, anesthesia was involved. Margo brought me to the hospital.

After I was in the recovery room, a nurse was talking to me and I asked, “Is mom still here.” Yes, I did ask for mom.

“I can check. Would you like her to come in?”

I must have said yes because a short time later Margo was in the room with me.

The nurse came back. “Is this your mom?”

“Yes.”

“I thought so. You look like each other.”

Under the throes of anesthesia, I started laughing uncontrollably. “That’s impossible. We aren’t related.”

Margo had to explain she was my stepmother.

The third time, she wasn’t even in the hospital. Understandably, because it was the middle of the night she’d spent half the night and most of the day with me while I was in labor with my second child. Now Margo, Jerry, my mother-in-law, and two nieces who’d been with me were all at home in their beds. (One niece was the one Dad and Margo raised but never managed to adopt. The other one was Jerry’s niece.)

I crashed right after delivery and I woke up in an eerily empty room. I assumed my daughter was in the nursery because I’d been dead to the world.

A nurse walked in and was surprised to see me awake, but also clearly hesitant to tell me where my daughter was. Somewhere in her stumbling, tentative rambling, she managed to mention Bilirubin counts.

I interrupted her. “So is my daughter single or double-banked?” The poor nurse nearly dropped her jaw, while I continued, “I’m Margo Westover’s daughter.”

Recognizing her name, she sighed with relief and had no problem explaining the situation since I wasn’t going to panic about a high Bilirubin count. After all, I knew what it was, and how to treat it. I even somewhat expected it. My husband and I are different blood types. Yes, all five of our children had at least mild jaundice.

Mostly, I just find it funny that all three happened in the same hospital and involved the same employee, at least indirectly.

I did have another funny exchange with a nurse. This one happened after the birth of our oldest child.

I was tending my daughter when a nurse came into talk to me. As he was preparing to leave, he commented. “There used to be a guy working in Central Sterilizing with the same last name.”

“I know. This is his daughter.”

“I had no idea he was married. How long have you been married?”

I pointed to the infant in front of me. “Long enough to have her.” She was born a month before our first anniversary.

Now for one last exchange.

I had taken Royce to the eye doctor’s to pick up his new glasses and as we left, he asked me, “Do I have a grandma?”

Considering his two biological grandmothers are dead and he never sees Margo, my now ex-stepmother, the short answer was no, though technically, everyone has grandparents. His are just dead.

“What brought that on?”

The tech who assisted him told him to go back to his grandma.

“I am not that old.”

He shrugs. “I have classmates with grandparents about your age.”

Yeah, I know I’m an older parent, but that’s ridiculous.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.

A Message of Hope by Bonnie Le Hamilton

This too will pass.

Every bad time is followed by a good-times. This bad time will pass. We just have to have the faith of Little Orphan Annie.

I always loved “The Sun Will Come out Tomorrow” it’s a great song, but might I point out that the original story was set during the depression? The sun did come out. Look at all the economic growth we’ve had since then!

Bad times do lead to good times, it will happen. Have faith.

And think about it, having to stay home to avoid a deadly virus isn’t as bad as say living in a war-torn country, or a natural disaster.

I say everyone needs to calm down. There is no need to panic if we follow the rules set down. Stay home if you can, keep your distance when you do have to go out, and please, the stores haven’t closed! So, think about the needs of the next person to enter the store, and only take what you need. Leave some for the rest of us.

I do understand that some of you are not used to staying home all day, every day. Frankly, of late I hadn’t been staying home a whole lot. But for me, I’m kind of enjoying getting to stay home.

Hey, I’m a writer. I suddenly have a lot of time to write, read, and do crafts! This is great. And I certainly don’t mind being alone.

I feel sorry for Konnie who has to deal with a high-risk husband who is an extrovert, they are having trouble keeping him home.

Actually, introverts of the world are having a gay old time, unless they have to deal with extroverts stuck with them.

Sorry, Konnie, but you picked him.

If Tom were still alive, he’d probably high tail it for the mountains! If he had heard social distancing, he’d have packed all his camping gear and went out to the mountains. I promise, he wouldn’t have stayed home, but he also would have avoided contact with other people more so than most.

Actually, I’m surprised that the outdoorsy types having considered this route. Then again, if everyone did that, it might be hard to find room in the great outdoors. Just saying.

And then there are the people who can’t go camping for health reasons.

For the last several years of Tom’s life, he was going camping alone. There was no way I could go because I needed my oxygen. Back then I was on it full time. And even now I still need it at night.

Anyway, it is possible to find the silver lining even during the hard times.

All we need to do is keep our faith, and look for the good in life.

Like the good Samaritan who overheard my sister-in-law say that she’d have to put the chicken back because she didn’t have enough money, and this wonderful lady paid for ALL her groceries, not just the part she couldn’t afford.

There are good people out there, there is sunshine in the world.

Keep your chin up.

And for all of you have some faith in prayer and God, our church is having a world-wide fast and prayer on Good Friday (this Friday) to control this pandemic, protect the caregivers, strengthen the economy, and normalize our lives. 

A fast is generally to go without two meals, this means, nothing to eat after dinner on Thursday, until dinner on Friday, 24 hours. That is how we normally do it in our Church, but of course, some of us can’t go without food, we need to eat to take our meds, and or to regulate our blood sugar, or because we have a baby to feed. Any pregnant or nursing mother shouldn’t fast either.

For all such people, like Konnie and I, give up something else for those 24 hours, and during that time read your scriptures and pray.

The president of our church issued an invitation to the entire world, not just to members of our church this past weekend, so please join us! All are welcome. We need everyone to pray.

And remember – The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow!

Anyway, that’s all I have to say this week.

I hope you all join us in this fast.

I for one am giving up social media and TV for those 24 hours. What will you give up? Will you even join us? I know some people don’t believe in God, and I’m certainly not asking you to believe, please don’t be rude to those of us who do.

Happy writing everyone!   

Of Mice and Early Morning Surprises by Konnie Enos

I stepped on a mouse.

Not something I thought I’d ever experienced, but there you have it.

If you’ve ever lived in the middle of a grain field, you know that you have a good chance of getting mice in your house. You are going to see them running through your kitchen when you turn on the lights first thing in the morning. You’re going to find them hiding in your laundry hamper. And yes, you just might step on one. Of course, this is most likely to happen if you stumbling around in the dark half asleep trying to get to the bathroom in the middle of the night without waking anybody up.

Yes, I’ve lived in the middle of a grain field. I can also remember a blood-curdling scream waking me up early one morning, all because our stepmother had inadvertently stepped on a hapless mouse in the dark. (Funny thing is she never repeated that unfortunate experience when we later moved into the house in the middle of grain fields.)

I, fortunately, felt his existence before I put any of my weight on it, unlike my stepmother’s experience so many years ago. I’m sure I would have panicked if I’d felt a mouse squished to death under my barefoot.

I’ve also seen her jumping on to chairs because one was spotted somewhere in our house.

I, however, have never once come close to a scurrying rodent and, since I now live in a large city, had not anticipated ever having the experience myself. But the fact remains while stumbling to my bathroom in the middle of the night, without my glasses on, hence not being able to see, I inadvertently stepped on one.

For me feeling something far too soft to be our bathroom floor come in contact with my foot, I immediately pulled back. I also made an effort to see what was on the floor.

Not easy when your whole world is blurry. (Note, the lack of glasses.)

While I could not make out the things long tail, I could see its general shape and color. Plenty of information to discern what I had stepped on.

From there I was able to figure out how that hapless mouse got in my bathroom, not to mention on the floor in front of my bathroom sink. Not that it was difficult.

I fully pin the existence of a mouse in my bathroom on Tiger, our cat.

You would think a middle-aged cat, who is terrified of leaving the house for any reason would not be finding the time or energy to be chasing mice, but the evidence was there. Not far from the inert mouse, you can see a small blue ball with a bell in it. There is even a small bar, hanging where Tiger can get at, with a dangling string and another bell at the end. So there is plenty of evidence to say Tiger still likes to play. Therefore, I can certainly blame him for my close encounter with a mouse.

As I write this, the mouse is still somewhere in my bathroom. On one or two occasions I’ve seen it get as far as the hallway by our laundry area, but for the most part, said mouse and Tiger’s other toys manage to stay in the area of the bathroom.

One would assume from this that Tiger isn’t energetic when it comes to dealing with his toys. However, I have to say I never seen Tiger playing with any of them. Although, as I’ve said I have caught his mouse in the hallway. I’ve even found his ball in my bedroom. One must assume he does play with his toys, though when no one is looking.

I will, of course, have to tell my daughter, Tiger’s Mom, about my close encounter with his mouse. Though I’m assuming she’ll just laugh about it.

I’m telling you that little soft, round, blue body with orange ears and long orange tail sure gave me a start.

Yes, I’m talking about a tiny cat toy.

Now that you’ve had a good laugh for the day, have a great April First!

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.