Racism Part 2

Back in May I posted my thoughts on racism but recently I saw this post on Facebook:                             I’m proud to be black; said a black man.

            I’m proud to be Asian; said an Asian man.

            I’m proud to be white; said a racist.

I read this and I thought really? How racist can this world get? I will repeat what I said then, judging a person as racist simply because they lack pigmentation is racist.

Honestly, what is wrong with a person being proud of who they are as an individual, no matter how much pigmentation they may or may not have? Being proud of who you are does not mean you think of yourself as superior, it just means you’re not ashamed of who you are, and there is nothing wrong with that.

Really read that statement above. If it’s okay for the black and Asian man to be proud of who they are, why can’t the white man be proud? Can’t people see how blatantly racist it is to say this behavior is fine for this group of people, but this group can’t do it because they lack enough pigmentation?

Why can’t we all be equally proud of who we are as individuals and show respect for everyone else? When are we going to stop judging people by their appearance and start realizing who they are by their actions?

Remember actions speak louder than words.

In the biblical story of the Good Samaritan it wasn’t the Jewish ecclesiastical leaders who stopped and helped that battered and beaten Jew, but the Samaritan. This was a man despised by the Jews, and he went above and beyond the call, not only getting him aid, but taking him to shelter, caring for him and paying to insure his care continued.

It doesn’t matter what races you put in this story. It’s about one man helping another. The Samaritan didn’t think about the differences in their religion, race or anything else, he simply saw another HUMAN BEING needing help.

We need to stop defining how good or bad someone is by the amount of pigmentation they might have, or where they might have been born, or what religion they might practice and start realizing we’re all HUMAN BEINGS. Our differences don’t need to make us enemies.

I’ve also said before, no two people are exactly alike. I’m telling you now that this world would be a rather boring place if we were.

So come on world, let’s stop reviling people for our differences and start respecting them. Our differences make this world run.

Not everyone has the skills, intelligence and knowledge to lead nations.

Not everyone has the talent to entertain us with laughter and music.

Not everyone can sooth a troubled heart.

Not everyone has the patience to teach a small child how to tie his shoe.

Not everyone knows how to knit, or sew, or cook, or write, or sing or dance. Name your talents here. Not everyone can do it. All of us must work together to see that everything runs smoothly.

But most of all, let’s stop assuming that because someone with little or no pigmentation is proud of the individual they are, that they are racist. I rather like myself but I don’t think of myself as better than anyone else so I can’t be racist and I don’t want to be judged as such simply because of my clear lack of pigmentation.

Please think, don’t judge.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.

Birthdays and Holidays part 2

As I stated in my last blog post, Konnie and I were born on July 5^th, a fact that does affect how we think and feel, but there are lots of other people born on or near holidays. I know quite a few.

And I’ve heard a lot stories, and or complaints about this fact of life, everything from never having friends in town, or available, on their birthday because of the holiday or one girl who griped that everyone always expected any party held on her birthday to be a costume party. These things exist, and, when possible, we should incorporate them into our stories.

After all, for our characters to be realistic, they have to have a birthday, don’t they?

I admit, sometimes the timeline of a story doesn’t lend itself to including a birthday. If it doesn’t span an entire year, it might not cover the time when the birthday is. And there are people who just don’t make a great deal out of birthdays, but what if they do, or what if the character was born on or near a holiday?

Or what if, like that bit I witnessed on The Big Bang not too long ago, a character would rather ignore his birthday for some reason. What is the reason? And how do his friends respond to it? If the writers of The Big Bang can make entire episode based on that subject, it should make a good brief story line too.

Or you could have a character born near a holiday that isn’t on the same date every year, and in the story, that date happens to be your character’s birthday. How will they react? How will they feel?

I can help you with a family’s reaction to having to deal with a birthday and Thanksgiving on the same day. I could even ask my brother how he felt. And I already know Mom’s reaction to going into labor just as soon as she finished eating that yearly feast. She never let us, or more particularly Ben, forget it.

And in my late teens when my youngest brother made his entrance into the world, I heard a lot of jokes about being in labor on Labor Day, not sure if he still hears them, but then how many of his friends know he was actually born on that very day? Though it might be fun to have character give birth on that day. :)

And that complaint about friends being unavailable for birthday parties? Well, I recall once commiserating with a couple of friends over that shared problem. They were born on July  4^th, but I’ve later heard it from a friend born on Christmas day.

I personally know of three people born on Christmas day. (I feel sorry for those poor souls. Gifts only once a year? How awful! :))

I already mentioned the Halloween birthday complaint. I can see how that would affect the attitude of someone about birthdays. But it might actually be fun to add to a story. :)

And I know a lady was born on New Year’s Day, however, I think she enjoyed being able to have a sleepover the night before her birthday. At least she was having fun at the one such sleepover I attended.

And there is one day on the calendar, which isn’t really a holiday, but it does affect the people born on that day a great deal. I happen to know of several. And that’s February 29^th. Just two of these souls that I know of are a cousin and one of my teachers both in high school and later in college.

As I recall my cousin complained about having a birthday party just once every four years, but I think that might have been his mother’s doing, we didn’t get a party every year either. But our one time teacher liked to joke he was younger than his students were. He insisted he was only twelve when he was teaching us back in high school but had celebrated a birthday by the time he moved up to teaching college, so he was thirteen then. And he milked that both times. He was a fun teacher, one of my very favorites.

Anyway, when we were born can affect our attitudes about birthdays, and when our characters are born might do the same for them. Do any of your characters have a birthday on or near a major holiday? And how does it affect your story?

Happy writing, everyone. :)

Introverts and Other Shy People

I’ve read a lot lately about being introverts and how it affects a person’s life, namely needing time alone to recharge. But the other day I saw this title: “Leave me alone, but I also want to be included”, and it instantly reminded me of something that happened to me.

I was finally getting over a cold, no longer contagious, but couldn’t go more than a few hours without a nebulizing treatment. There was a family activity at church, involving board games. All my kids wanted to go and my husband talked me into it, after all, churches have electricity and my nebulizer was portable.

Once there, I sat, near an outlet. I thought it was a good spot, near the door, where everyone coming in would see me and with several fun games in front of me, I figured someone would join me as soon as things got started.

It was held in a large gym and I knew it would be difficult to hear my quiet voice if everyone was socializing. Also, as shy as I am, starting any conversations was out of the question. Besides, I couldn’t wander around because of my asthma and my bad back, aggravated by my excess weight.

Then people started coming in and mingling.

I’m not saying no one talked to me. Several people said hi as they brushed past me, but that was about the extent of it. Not one person sat down and offered to play even one game, except my own family.

For nearly an hour.

Not even the friendliest people there.

After being pretty much ignored by everyone else, I asked my husband to take me home.

Anyway, I thought of all of this and wondered how often we as writers think about why a character sits quietly in a corner.

Are they shy or an introvert? Or is it health reasons? Or, like me, a combination of all three.

Do we consider how these people feel about being left by themselves? Do the others around them even notice that they are there or when they leave?

I once had a lady enthusiastically tell me about a recent party, and something funny that happened at it, saying I’d missed the fun and I should make the next one.

All well and good, except I’d been beside her when the funny event occurred. Yeah, I walked out early, because no one was talking to me anyway, but I’d still been there.

Do you have characters who experience that?

When Bonnie needs to write the shy characters she comes to me precisely because I understand them so well.

Now the outgoing, extroverts, I have to ask Bonnie though I suppose I could ask my oldest daughter. She gets that sort too.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.

Birthdays and Holidays

This past Sunday morning started out like any other day. I went through the same routine I always do, but things were a bit different when my computer informed me that my twin had finally connected to the internet, which isn’t unusual in itself, its just generally when this happens each morning, we either exchange hello’s or good morning’s. This past Sunday morning we each said, happy birthday.

Again, nothing spectacular, it’s not as if we’re going to forget when each other’s birthday is. But I thought it was kind of funny when over hour after we exchanged this greeting, Facebook saw fit to send me an email reminding me that it was Konnie Enos’ birthday. Duh!

I think Konnie put it best in her Facebook post later that day:

Thanks Facebook for reminding me that today was Bonnie Le Hamilton's birthday, I might have forgotten otherwise. I mean it's not like we didn't share a womb for eight months or celebrate the last past 52 years in some fashion together so I'm bound to forget that today marks one more year we've both lived on this planet. Not that I've ever forgotten it's my birthday. All that ruckus people make the night before the big day makes sure I never forget.

Happy Birthday America. I love July.

As for all that ruckus the night before, I can remember a time when we thought all that ruckus was for us. Of course, kids are self-centered by nature, but we grew up. We do know better, however, having the fifth of July for a birthday can be fun sometimes, or down right annoying.

Growing up, our mother often mentioned that the year we were born with the first boom of the fireworks display that July 4^th her contractions started, a month early. Our parents left the display and hurried to the hospital, and Konnie and I came into world the next evening. And mother spent the rest of her life complaining about it. J

And then there was the year I took a summer band class, the summer of our bicentennial. That year The 4^th fell on Sunday and our hometown planned to have the parade on Saturday. My band class was going to march in that parade, but my problems started when my fellow clarinet players learned two things, first I’d never been on the receiving end of any birthday spankings, in part because my birthday is in the middle of the summer, and that my birthday was on Monday.

The girls in the class, which was all but one of my classmates, decided my height deficiency was due at least in part to the fact I’d never received a pinch to grow an inch. So they were going to make sure they each gave me my birthday spanking, and a pinch to grow an inch. A terrifying prospect considering the number of girls involved and how old I was going to be.

Then we marched in the parade. When we reached the end, our bandleader announced to the whole group that there would be no classes on Monday. While the rest of the band cheered, our bandleader stared dumbfounded at the clarinet section where all but one of the girls responded in some form of, “Uh darn!” and the remaining girl sighed and sank to the ground in shear relief!

Do any of your characters have a birthday on or near a major holiday? How does it affect their life or their attitude? Do you show this in your story? It could be happy, sad, anything. Birthday’s happen in real life, why not in our character’s lives? Think about it.

Happy writing, everyone. J

Genes

This past week while I’ve made maddening efforts to keep ahead of the bills and try to maintain some semblance of order in my house while still putting in a great deal of time with my writing. (Yes, I’ve actually been working on my opus all week), I learned something.

Well, I’ve actually known this little tidbit for some time, but this last week the realization hit home.

For Bonnie and I, writing is in our genes. Our parents both wrote. Our paternal grandmother wrote. We’ve got aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces, nephews and siblings, who write.

But it really struck me this last week when Bonnie was struggling with her story and needed to brainstorm. Something we always do for each other. The problem was, I wasn’t available.

At the time, I, being the mom, was running people hither and thither for doctors’ appointments and whatever else I had to do. By the time I got home and could even think about addressing her problem, she’d solved it, with her new brainstorming partner.

I was just a bit amazed and awed at how quickly she took care of it, but not by who she turned to for assistance. Mainly because her story has a young leading lady and her new brainstorming partner knows 19 year olds really well, being one herself.

I’ve used this young lady’s insight a time or two myself, after all I do have some 19 year olds in my opus.

But she also knows about telling, echo, redundancies and passive voice. She’s a whiz at spelling and grammar. She’ll be reading over my shoulder and point to the screen making some comment like that’s spelled wrong, or you need, or don’t need, a comma there. (I’m horrible with commas.)

I actually hate people reading over my shoulder and she tends to be the most annoying, simply because she will point out problems, and she reads faster than I do and she’s always complaining about me not scrolling fast enough.

So this week I was looking at this poised, slender, and (well for me tall), intelligent young lady and it occurred to me that she is destined for great things.

She has clear goals, and plans so she can accomplish them. She’s also talented, having inherited not only the writing gene, but a photographer’s eye, and she has the will and determination to develop both talents while still pursuing her other talent. She’s a born animal whisperer, so future veterinarian.

As you can tell, I love this young lady. She grew under my heart for nine months. And I’m proud of the young woman she is today.

My daughter, one of the greatest joys in my life. (Yes, she knows which one I’m talking about.)

I realize this is a bit late, but my excuse is I was writing.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.

Collaboration

As you know, Konnie and I are writers, and quite a few of our fellow authors have suggested that we should collaborate on a story. Others have been surprised we haven’t even considered such a thing. Then the other day Konnie, her youngest daughter, and I were all on Skype together. It all started with me asking Konnie for some help with a scene I was writing, which just wasn’t coming out right.

Konnie didn’t have a solution, but, considering the age of the character, suggested I asked her youngest daughter. Long story short, we ended up in a three-way chat to solve my problem, then Konnie came upon a passage she was having trouble with in her WIP, and finally her daughter brought up her own writing conundrum.

We were all working on our own stories while also online helping the other two.

Did it faze us? Did we even find it unusual? Cripes no. Adding in one of Konnie’s daughters is a bit uncommon, but Konnie and I do that constantly. If we’re both writing, we’re both online, and inevitably, we’d end up brainstorming. And both us at some time or another have helped her daughters.

And this isn’t the only way we instigate a brainstorming session. Sometimes, it starts with one of us emailing an excerpt, or even the whole file to date, to the other with a notation of, “Help,” or variations of thereof.

Generally speaking, I send her a scene saying I still don’t like how this is reading, asking for help, then we discuss it and hammer out a much better scene.

In fact, when it comes to writing a story, Konnie doesn’t always get the male characters right. Something I seem to be able to do automatically. I can’t tell you how many times she’s sent me a scene, asking if it works.

It usually doesn’t, not in the least bit. I can always tell why. It’s either that guys in general, or that character particularly, wouldn’t respond or react that way.

As I said, Konnie doesn’t always get it right. But she has enough brains to know when a scene isn’t quite right, and sense enough to ask me for help.

On the converse, I’m not all that good with shy characters, on top of that, I can handle a character with a phobia (unfortunately, I know how that works all too well) but I’m at loss with characters which are a bit jumpy for some reason or another.

As much I correct her male characters, she corrects my characters on the above points. Without her assistance, some of my stories wouldn’t ring true, and the same goes with her stories without my help.

So, in a sense, we do collaborate. I certainly know her stories as well as she knows mine, but the result is our own work, individually.

No matter how many times we concoct scenes suggestions for each other, the wording and phrasing, in the final version is always the author’s language choice. Suggestions are just that, suggestion.

And personally, I think having a brainstorming partner, is the best way to collaborate.

What do you think?

Happy writing, everyone. J

Excuses, Excuses

One of the first thoughts I had this morning was I’d spent most of the previous day actually working on my opus.

And I didn’t actually write anything.

No, this isn’t one more excuse. I did work on my opus.

You see I’d been working on my opus the night before and in writing the scene I realized I couldn’t remember if a certain character had died in a battle or not. (They are at war.)

If he hadn’t died, I was fine, I could use him.

If he had died, I had a problem. Not because I couldn’t use him again, but because I hadn’t addressed his death.

So of course, I had to check.

Finding the correct scene wasn’t too difficult. However, it showed that the character in question had died. So I had to figure out how to address it.

But realizing this wasn’t the only time I’d forgotten a detail in my rather large opus, I thought it would be helpful if I had a complete list of all the characters which included any details about them, like being killed, so that I had an easy reference to refresh my memory when I needed it.

First I required a complete list.

So I started on page one and carefully combed through for all such details.

So far I have three and a half pages of names and I’m less than forty-five percent of the way through it. And I basically worked on it from the time I got up until I went to bed with few interruptions. (I told you it was an opus.)

I ate and even helped Bonnie and my daughter with their stories while still working on mine.

While I had been rather proud of myself for concentrating on my writing for so long, my next thought was that I hadn’t done a whole list of chores like balancing checkbooks, paying bills, dishes, laundry.

You get the idea.

The whole thing actually bummed me out. I had wanted to continue my search so I could address the issue of the characters death and finish the scene that had set the whole thing off. But, of course, I knew it would take a good part of the day to get my to-do list knocked down.

Then as I went over the things I was supposed to have done yesterday one particular item jumped out at me and I couldn’t help but laugh.

Usually I use my to-do list, and the many interruptions from my family, as an excuse for not writing. So I find it rather amusing that working on my opus was my excuse for not doing one very important thing on the top of my to-do list.

Write my blog post.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.

Writing Every Day

“Write every day.” That’s advice I’ve heard in writing chats since the very first one I attended way back in 2000. For years I viewed the statement on the same lines as the one about outlining before writing — one big load of not for me.

Of course, way back then, writing every day wasn’t for me, because I don’t write on Sundays. I absolutely refuse to write on that sacred day. (In my church, we call it the Sabbath and there is after all the fourth commandment. Exodus 20:8 - 11)

Hey, I may not be to the point of earning money doing this, but writing is work, a lot of work. More importantly, it’s my work, so not on the Sabbath. Anyway, the adage didn’t work for me, until I realized one thing.

The advice isn’t about work ethic as much as it’s about keeping in the habit it’s about not waiting for the muse to hit, and just about being in your writing place ready to write at a certain time. 

Meaning it doesn’t have to be every day, if it works better for your schedule and lifestyle to write only every other day, than do it. If some days of the week it’s easier to write first thing in the morning while others, it’s easier to write later in the day than do it.

The point isn’t to write every day, it is to write CONSISTENTLY. It’s about forming a habit that will help the muse know when it’s a good time to catch you ready willing and able.

But even the best-laid plans can get sidetracked. Konnie would be able to present more examples of that, but then Konnie’s writing plans tend to get sidetracked on a daily basis. She has too many people living in her house wanting her attention and time, and none seem to realize how much of time they hog collectively.

Since I live alone, I don’t have as many distractions, and I have in fact gotten in the habit of writing every morning except Sunday. So much so that I have trouble changing the time of day I write.

If I can’t write during the hours between breakfast and lunch, I may not get any writing done that day, and Monday was one day when I wasn’t able to write at all, no time. Busy all day. Tuesday, I did manage to open my WIP up last night. I wrote one paragraph. That’s all.  

Sometimes life does just does that to all of us.

I know what obstacles Konnie faces every day. I can name all six of them. J  What kind of obstacles do the rest of you face? I’m guessing its family and friends, both of which got in my way this week, and all of which gets in Konnie’s way daily. So name who make its hard for you to write every day, and maybe let them know if it will help.

Happy writing everyone. J

Family Ties

Look at a Norman Rockwell picture and you’ll see multigenerational families gathered together enjoying one another’s company, a big family meal to celebrate a birthday or a kid’s birth, or the occasional holiday.

I can remember some similar experiences growing up, spending time with extended family. But because of time and distance, my boys have little or no memory of such multigenerational gatherings and considering their complete lack of living grandparents and great grandparents, a difficult thing to do.

It leaves me wondering if families are even close like Rockwell depicted anymore.

How many families do you know where all the adult kids live within the same city? County? State? How many extended families do you know who gather more often than once a year to celebrate anything or spend time with aunts, uncles and cousins?

My mother’s siblings all live in the same state we all grew up in, but the last two times I know they all gathered in one place were for my mom’s and her mom’s funerals.

My father’s siblings also all live in the same state, and technically their grandfather’s family has a reunion every year in Idaho Falls, though I haven’t heard about for the last few years. And Great-Great Grandpa Westover’s descendants have a reunion every year on the family ranch. Though I’ve heard attendance is falling and I have only been once, when my girls were young, before the boys were born.

I have a general idea where all my aunts and uncles are, but my husband isn’t even sure all of his are alive. We found one within the last ten years, but the others we have no contact with.

I can remember someone taking a five generation picture shortly after my niece was born, with said niece, my sister, my mom, my maternal grandmother and my mom’s maternal grandfather. I’ve never had the opportunity to form such a picture. And considering my parents, grandparents and great-grandparents, etc. are all dead, to form one now I’d have to be the great-grandparent in it. So I’ll probably in my 90’s.

My oldest son can’t tell me even how many kids two of my brothers have, let alone genders, or names. He barely knows how many kids my youngest brother has. I’m sure his brother is even more clueless.

I had ties to my grandparents and cousins growing up. I still have contact with some of them. I remember my grandparents. My kids are missing that.

My second oldest is delving into family history with a fervor, finding stories where she can about her ancestors. And maybe that’s why she does it, to feel the bond with her family she doesn’t have here on earth.

But how do I help my kids create those bonds with their cousins?

How do you give your kids close ties to their extended family when they don’t see them, don’t know them, have never met them? How do you give your kids the feeling of loving grandparents when their grandparents are all dead? How do you create bonds with cousins your kids never get to see?

I know I’m failing. I feel bad becauase my kids don’t have that kind of extended family.

The Best Laid Plans

I think we’ve often stated how different my life is from that of my sister, she does, after all have a husband, children, and pets, which I don’t have. One of the ways our lives are different is that she ends up making fairly regular trips to the ER.

This has more to do with the number of people in her household than anything else does. There have been months where Konnie has ended up in the ER several times, in just a week. Me, I can tell you where the ER is, but the only time I ever went to the ER more than once in a week’s time was not long before my husband died. He died within a week of my last trip to the ER with him.

Sixteen month before that was our previous trip the ER, and I can’t remember how long ago the visit before that was. Though I do recall that in the decade or so before that trip, my husband had taken two trips to the hospital in an ambulance, and I’d done it once. All three times for accidents, and all three were years apart.

Then came this week. Last Wednesday my doctor ordered some tests to figure out how come I was suddenly having new problems and the results came back that I might have a blood clot. When the doctor saw that, he called me and ordered me to the ER to undergo further tests to figure out if I did indeed have said clot.

You’ll be happy to know that I do not have one. I’m fine and improving, thanks to antibiotics, but I still ended up going back in ER yesterday afternoon. A friend called me, weak and in pain. I hurried to her place and drove her to the ER. And, thankfully, she is fine and on antibiotics, but on the way home she apologized to me for taking up so much of my day, and even said something on the lines of, “I’m glad you didn’t have any plans today.”

The truth was I did, not the least of which needing to write my blog post, but I also had working on my WIP, household chores, and balancing my checkbook on the agenda yesterday. She had in fact interrupted my writing. I didn’t get far.

But it got me thinking about how hard of a time Konnie always has getting any writing done, and I realized sometimes even our best laid plans have to be thrown out the window, there are just more important things. Like trips to the ER, something no one can plan on.

Hopefully today, I’ll manage to add more than 315 words to my WIP, balance my checkbook, do the laundry, and the dishes, and . . . J You get the picture.

Happy writing everyone.

Racism

Over the last several months I’ve heard more and more stories of people being labeled racist simply because they were born with less pigmentation than others. That’s it. No other reason other than the lack of pigmentation.

Not because they’d done anything mean, illegal or blatantly rude to anyone who happened to have more pigmentation than they did, but simply because of their lack of pigmentation.

In one case a judge told a three year old victim of a crime that the criminal, who happened to have a great deal of pigmentation, didn’t deserve a tough sentence for the crime of terrorizing this little three year old because the three year old was racist. Why? You guessed it. That poor child didn’t have enough pigmentation.

Now I’ve looked up the definition of racist, just to make sure I wasn’t forgetting what I learned all those years ago back in school, but according to dictionary.com racist and or racism means feeling your race is superior to another race.

So the amount of pigmentation someone has cannot possibly determine whether or not they are a racist or not. Their actions and words can, though.

And when I was in school the first thing they taught me to determine a racist is someone who judged someone based solely on the amount of pigmentation they had.

So calling me a racist simply because I lack said pigmentation would make you the racist, not me, because I’m not the one judging you on the amount of pigmentation you have. I’m judging your words and actions.

So everyone out there who are blessed with a great deal of pigmentation, not everyone who unfortunately lacks pigmentation is judging you on your overabundance of it.

We can however judge you on your actions.

If you are going to rob, steal, beat up defenseless women and children, use vulgar and profane language in public, walk around half dressed and your clothes falling off of you, yeah we can judge that. I don’t care how much pigmentation you have.

If you want to be respected as human beings, act like it.

Respect those around you.

Pull up your pants and clean up your language.

Stop blaming the world for your woes and get a job. If there isn’t any where you live, find a way to better your situation, like going to school and making yourself more employable.

There are people of all levels of pigmentation who have pulled themselves up by their bootstraps and made something of themselves without breaking any laws.

I sincerely doubt Martin Luther King Jr. envisioned the world we have today when he declared “I have a dream”.

He didn’t want those with lots of pigmentation turning the table on those with little, he wanted us all to live together as equals.

But that’s never going to happen if we continue to see an issue of pigmentation, something determined by our genes, as something to divide us.

Pigmentation is only skin deep. Underneath that we are all human beings.

When we can remember that, we will finally achieve equality.

Perspective

During their school years, I’m sure most kids had a class they didn’t look forward to. Mine changed as I got older, but when I was in grade school, I hated Art class.

I groaned a lot when I saw our teacher, which was a lot because, unfortunately, she was my mother. Despite being her offspring, I can’t draw. Doodle yes; draw no, evident in the fact that I got a D in art.

My mother didn’t give up trying, she even convinced me to take art in seventh grade. Frankly, both of us figured if someone else taught me it would work better.

Well he did give me a C. I guess that’s better, but I still can’t draw. I can barely even tell you what perspective is. And, heck, that’s vocabulary, not art!

I can still see my mother drawing lines at an angle over the paper, and then sketching different things at different spots on the graph she made, as she talked about how to make things larger that are closer and smaller that are further away.

Next to the color wheel, perspective was probably the easiest thing for me to learn. It made sense to me.

Of course, when I gave up on being an artist, I figured I didn’t have to worry about perspective ever again. That is until the other day when it dawned on me I have to deal with it all the time.

POV is perspective!

And boy is there a lot more to perspective when you’re using words rather than drawings. In writing, perspective isn’t affected by how near or far the thing is, its affected by era, upbringing, attitude, experience, and setting.

A character from say the 1830’s is going to have a different attitude, experience, and even upbringing than one from today. They’d use different term too. Of course, characters from the same era can have different attitudes, depending on upbringing or experience. Perspective makes a huge difference.

It can make a difference in how you’d write a scene too.

Is the narration in the narrator’s voice or the character’s voice?

What attitude does the character have? What is the character’s experience? How a character feels about the events around them will affect how they respond to those events and two characters are going to respond alike.

Number one, if they did, it would make for a boring story, and number two, it wouldn’t be realistic. Even Konnie and I don’t respond the same to any given situation; we don’t think alike – most of the time. After all, while our formative vital statics are virtually the same, there’s that little she’s shy I’m not issue that makes a huge difference in how we feel.

Writing perspective isn’t showing the vista from where the character is standing, it’s about attitude since an outdoorsy person would view the same forest differently than a city person making the story different.

And I find it changes everything in the story, when I change the POV. Don’t you?

And it’s time to get back to my writing! Have fun everyone. J

The Name Thing

Not long ago my middle daughter and I were having a conversation and it somehow got on names.

Something prompted me to mention the calendar my father had listing everyone’s birthdays. The calendar had twelve squares, one for each month. In each Dad listed family members birthday by the day they were born, their first name and then the two digit year they were born. However, my middle daughter and my brother’s oldest daughter were born a month and a day apart and have the exact same first name.

 Dad’s solutions was to add their middle initial to the board.

When I saw it, and read the entries for those girls’ birthdays, I had to laugh. “Dad you should have used their last initial.”

This was obvious to me since those are clearly different whereas their middle initials are the same, even if they are different names. The way Dad did it, made it look like he listed two birthdays for one girl.

Anyway that story led me to retell how her cousin hadn’t known, when they were in grade school, that they had the same name. We had as a rule used a common nickname for our daughter but my brother refused to shorten any of his kid’s names. So one day, in my niece’s presence, when I was a bit irked with my own daughter and called her by her full first name, I had to explain that they had the same name.

This discussion led to us talking about how moms call kids full names when they are upset with their kids. I told my daughter that I tend to use my children’s first and middle names when I’m mad, for all but my youngest daughter. I use her first two names when I’m in a good mood.

“That’s not fair. Why do you do that?”

 “You try saying Joy when you’re mad.”

I let her think on that a moment.

I finally pointed out. “When I’m mad at her she gets her full name, not just her first and middle name.”

Truthfully, I have used my other kids full names, but generally the first two are enough for them to know they are in trouble.

But as my youngest daughter read this, she pointed out that I rarely call her by just her first name.

She’s right. I do usually use her first two names. Either that, or her nickname, which I often pair with her middle name anyway.

I really like her middle name.

Can you blame me?

Worst Parenting Advice

The other day I was reading an article online about the worst advice new parents had ever received out of pure curiosity, just to see what some people might say. After all, maybe I could use it in a story someday, and then I came to this little tidbit:

“Twins are easier than one at a time because they have a built-in playmate/friend.”

I cracked up! Spoken like someone who has never had to deal with a couple of toddlers conspiring together to overthrow a safety gate or anything else. Oh, at first it might seem fine.

Our dad insisted that while we were babies and toddlers, before we started talking, we would jabber at each for hours, seemingly having very interesting conversation only we could understand. And it’s not that much harder to change two diapers then to change one, but once twins are mobile – Look out!

I mean let’s get real. All of you parents out there imagine your little one-year-old hellion and times that by two.

Times the un-diapered runaways, the knocked over lamps, the banging pots and pans, and all the other minor disasters one can cause by two, and throw in a dose of they communicate with each before they can actually talk, and believe me, that safety gate will only withstand their assault if its bolted to the wall.

To hear the war stories my parents used to say about my early years, I’m guessing we got all our mischievousness out before we entered school, because I’m telling you our teachers never had that much trouble. Though believe me, we pulled some mighty interesting stunts. And I’ll have to admit we were in grade school for a certain feat we pulled involving a Christmas present, but that did occur at home. Our teachers never had any such problems with us.

(Excluding the one trick where a friend dared us into switching places for April Fool’s day, which would be the only time I have ever pulled an April Fool’s prank, and, as I’ve mentioned before, it didn’t work too well.)

Of course, I don’t have to go with just what they said; I know plenty of other parents of twins. And one theme I’ve noticed is that when in trouble, they run away in opposite directions. And I experienced that as a young woman babysitting a set a twin boys! You aim to grab them, to get them out of trouble, and they’d scamper, giggling, in opposite directions, generally, both finding something else to get into.

I’m telling you once twins are mobile you need to be two people to keep up. And to just plain catch them!

I feel sorry to single parents of twins and for every couple out there with higher order multiples. With my active imagination I can figure out how that would be, and I do not want to go there! Ever. My sympathies to all of you.

But then again, I really ought to work some of this into a story.

Time to get back to my writing! Have fun everyone. J

The Twin Connection

Not too long ago my husband took our daughter and her two fur babies to the vet. While there he saw a woman who looked familiar but clearly didn’t know him.

He asked the woman if he knew her but she said she didn’t think so but then added, “I do have a twin sister though.”

As I wasn’t there, I’m not sure which one brought up the name of our doctor but when he was telling me the story, Jerry made it clear the woman looked a lot like the woman all of us, except my husband, see for medical care, and she did say that our doctor was her twin sister. (He goes to the VA.)

Jerry told me about because he’d been unaware our doctor had a twin.

I knew that, but it was surprising, after all these years, that we’d run into her sister. This is a big city.

Anyway, a few days later I had to take a couple of my kids into the doctor so I asked her, “Have you talked to your sister since Monday night?”

“No. Why?”

I told her about Jerry having to go to the vet and as soon as I named the clinic he went to she started laughing. Though when I explained that Jerry talked to her sister she seemed a bit surprised. She said, “Yeah, if you see me out and about and say hi, but I don’t respond, it’s actually my sister.”

While she didn’t actually say her sister was ‘the shy one’, that was what she implied.

If you’ve ever seen Lily Tomlin and Bette Miller in “Big Business” you’ll see that for both sets of twins, one is considered shy while the other is very much outspoken. This is considered fairly normal among twins.

Bonnie and I have already posted about all the times I didn’t talk to her friends. What I didn’t say is I never had that problem, because she always figured a stranger talking to her must have known me.

What I realized that day in the doctor’s office is that my doctor is the outgoing one like Bonnie is and her twin is the shy one like me.

In the past my doctor and I have also talked about being mirror twin, part of the reason I knew she was a twin. Anyway, because of that I know my doctor is right handed, like Bonnie.

So I actually have more in common with her sister than I do her.

But, you know what? It doesn’t really matter.

What matters is we are both twins and we understand each other on a level that people who aren’t twins can’t.

My ADD Muse

I think the hardest part about writing is when your mind moves faster than your fingers can type, but it’s doubly hard when the story moves on in your head while you’re dreaming, taking your brain further along in the story than where you’ve typed to.

You would think after all these years I would be accustomed to this problem, since, after all, my stories do play out in my mind while I’m doing other things, like chores, or sleeping, and the fact is it usually helps me work out what happens next.

My problem is that sometimes my brain skips way ahead.

I know there are authors who insist they write whatever scene is on their minds then go back in edits to put the scenes in order and fill in the blanks. I’ve tried this. I have several manuscripts with the words “skip ahead,” typed into the manuscript. But each time I reread those manuscripts I’m still drawing a blank as to how to fill in the gap.

In the past week, instead of forcing myself to work on my manuscript I’ve volunteered to chauffeur a friend around, went shopping and out to lunch with a friend, taken my sister-in-law to various appointments, and played countless games on my computer. I’ve also opened my manuscript any number of times, but all I’ve managed is adding a couple paragraphs, and those simple sentences took me most of the day! I’m generally not that slow.

In fact, I have it open right now. But as I know it ends well before the spot running through my head, I can’t bring myself to even look at it.

Why does my brain have to jump ahead?

Well, it needs something to do while I’m doing other things. Let’s face it, I have ADD, my brain goes, period. It doesn’t stop, not even when I’m asleep, since my dreams often give me story ideas, or solve problems I’m having with a plot.

None of which helps me complete another manuscript. I’ve managed it six times, but none since, and I’m starting to feel like I will never manage it again.

I’ve gone to the point of telling myself not to start another one until I finish what I’m working on, but then the story I’m working hits a road block I can’t seem to work out while another story takes over. This has happened many times, and only once have I managed, after almost a year of working on other stories, returned to the interrupted story, when a sudden idea gave me a new path to take.

Then again, I did finish that one, thanks to the inspiration. Maybe I should stop fighting it and just go along with my scatterbrained muse. What do you think?

Travel Arrangements

Though I don’t watch TV or any news programs, I’m informed enough to know that Greta Van Susteren is some sort of news commentator. I’ve also heard, or read, enough of her commentaries to know she’s conservative, and anti-Obama. Since I’m very conservative and anti-Obama, what I have read from her, I’ve agreed with.

Today I was reading through Facebook and saw someone’s post sharing what was titled as her rant about Obama’s spending habits.

I’ve seen plenty of headlines about the lavish vacations he and his family take and other headlines criticizing how much taxpayer funds the Obama’s spend on personal things so I had every reason to believe this was more of the same.

The entire article was about spending taxpayer money on travel expenses.

One thing she pointed out was that under normal circumstances, news reporters wanting to interview the U.S. President would have to pay their own travel expenses because the President wasn’t going to go to them.

However, that’s just what Obama did.

He traveled to California for an interview. True this one wasn’t with a news reporter, but rather a talk show host, but it’s essentially the same thing. His wife also traveled to California for an interview, just a different talk show.

While Ms. Van Susteren did point out that past presidents had never traveled to interviews, and these interviews were purely for entertainment television, as opposed for news purposes, her main objection was not to why they traveled but the means they choice to travel.

 Granted her complaint was focused fully and completely on the cost of that transportation choice. A cost we as taxpayers clearly will have to pay.

I agree.

It’s expensive and we as taxpayers should question every such expenditure. I believe it’s our constitutional right to do so.

I certainly don’t understand why they had to do the interviews.

It’s not like Obama can legally hit the campaign trail for 2016 and if he tried I would fervently pray that this time the masses have wised up and actually realize the man and his wife are anything but patriotic and we do not need them in our White House.

But Ms. Van Susteren’s biggest argument against the expense wasn’t about the entertainment or how past presidents dealt with interviews, but the fact that the Obama’s used two different planes to travel to the same place at roughly the same time.

Now I’d like to point out something to Ms. Van Susteren.

It is also policy that the president and vice president don’t travel together.

Why?

Because if something should happen we as a nation wouldn’t lose both at the same time.

I do realize that Michelle isn’t the vice president. What she is, is the mother of two beautiful young daughters, who call our president Dad.

I’m the mother of five.

When I have traveled it has been with my husband and kids and never by plane. But I think young Sailor Gutzler would agree that parents traveling together can be a tragedy for the children. She’s the sole survivor of a plane crash that took her parents, sister and a cousin. I think she’d feel better right now if her mom hadn’t been on that plane and was still here to comfort her.

The Obama’s aren’t the only parents in this unpredictable world of ours who choose to make separate travel arrangements.

You may not like how much money they spent on this trip, but don’t automatically assume their choice was purely for their personal creature comfort.

As a mother who hates Obama, I’m not making that assumption.