Song Title Inspiration by BL Hamilton

Have you ever considered titles to songs and imagined the stories to go behind them?

I have. I not only think it’s fun, it sometimes spurs the muse. I say sometimes because there is one song title that I think would make for an interesting story. Maybe a YA romance, but I’ve yet to concoct a story to go behind it.

That song is “Frog Kissing.

And yes, I know that kind of dates me, but not really, since I learned this song because it was in my father’s collection.

But anyway, I think this song title would make for a cute book title. Just have to figure out a story to go with it.

I actually think there are a lot of song titles or songs that could and should inspire some full-fledged stories, more than the few that have done that.

“The Gambler,” “Coward of the County,” and “Convoy” I know were made into movies, but I’m not talking movies; I’m talking books, novels even. And I got to wondering if any other writers felt the same way.

Have any of you been inspired by a song? Have any of you used a song title as working title for your work in progress?

I can answer yes to both of those, since I have been. My one song title/working title is “On The Wings of Love,” which of course lends itself real well to a romance novel.

Now, can any of you name a song title that inspired a story of yours?

Happy writing everyone J!

Human Kindness by Konnie Enos

Years ago, when our only car died we did without, for a full year.

We lived in a small town. We could walk and there was one bus route which went right through the complex we lived in, and my husband was able to get rides to and from work from a co-worker. We managed.

This year, I wasn’t really thinking of the possibility of being without a car not even after my husband’s car gave up the ghost. Mine was fine. More or less.

Then mine went down.

And it would happen at the end of the month and money. Not to mention right before we were planning to drive up to our daughter’s college graduation.

And if you think being without a car in a big city should be easier than in a small town. Think again.

For my husband, a disabled vet, it wasn’t too difficult. He can still walk around, at least enough to catch the city bus and he gets a steep discount because he is disabled. Then again, most of his appointments were through the VA and the DAV, Disabled American Vets, runs a bus service just for the vets to get to their appointments. So for him, being without a car only meant it took longer to get there.

For me to get to the grocery store, which is more than a mile away, or my daughters to get to their doctors’ appointments, required finding someone to take us.

No problem. We’re regular church goers. Pull up a church roster and call a few stay at home or otherwise retired women and ask for some help.

At a guess I’d say over the last three weeks eight out of ten calls I made went to voicemail. I must have placed around ten to fifteen calls every other day or so, and out of all those only one person ever got back to me. She saw I’d called her several times earlier that day.

Needless to say, between all the appointments my daughters had over the last three weeks and just trying to keep milk in the house, it felt like trying to pull teeth to get rides. My fridge will only hold so much milk and it never lasts longer than three days. I was lucky if I could get a ride every four to six days. Plus each of my daughters ended up canceling an appointment because we couldn’t find them a ride. (For several reasons the bus system wouldn’t have worked for my girls the biggest one being they’d be out in the sun for far too long, which neither one can do for medical reasons.)

So I was really happy to get my car up and running again, though feeling basic human kindness was a thing of the past.

Then yesterday two of my daughters and I were at the store and we had to get dogfood. With five dogs, it’s a fifty pound bag. We were shifting things in my trunk to make room for it when a gentleman walked up, commenting on the size of the bag and dropped it in.

I’ll admit both my daughters are petite, but they’re used to moving those bags. We get them every month. But after all the trouble I had trying get the help I did need from people I know, it rather astounded me to have complete stranger be a gentleman.

All three of us thanked him, though he made light of it as he walked off.

This man passed it forward. Now it’s your turn.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.

Writing Distractions

How do you write a whole novel? Sheer persistence and it isn’t easy. Lots of things can distract you, or as least, they distract me, since being easily distracted is like the hallmark symptom of ADD. Getting distracted can be as simple as seeing something and realizing you need to take care of it.

Like the time I started to make my breakfast and barely even got the ingredients out, and not all of them, when I started doing the laundry instead, then I started to gather the dishes. Then an hour later, my blood sugar level told me I forgot something.

And distractions are everywhere. AOL News and Facebook are two major problems for me, but then so is the TV, which is sitting across the room calling to me right now, the sink full of dirty dishes, the birds flying past my window, and the full laundry hamper.

That’s a bit of life getting in the way, and a bit of ADD.

Like I said, it doesn’t take much, and last week, it wasn’t the little things, it was the big things. As Konnie said in her last post, her daughter was graduating from college. Well graduation was Friday, and late Thursday afternoon, Konnie and her husband arrived here.

So I managed to get some writing done on Thursday. After running a few errands and until around the time, I expected Konnie to arrive in Pocatello. See she couldn’t drive straight to my place, because I’d only given Konnie directions off the interstate and to nearest the gas station to my apartment, figuring with all the turns involved from there, it would be easier if I navigate once she got here.

So, anyway, I was pins and needles until she called saying she’d made it that far, and then, of course, I had company, meaning I didn’t even open up my computer, except to show Konnie what I’d written that day.

Friday, we drove up to Rexburg to be with her oldest daughter on her big day. Then Saturday after breakfast, we loaded all three of them into Konnie’s car, then I hopped in mine and led them out to McCammon where my husband is buried.

Since they live so far away, when my husband died, they’d only been able to afford for my sister to come up for the funeral, and while my niece had since had a chance to see where he was buried, her father hadn’t, and he wanted to see it. I lead the way.

Once he’d seen the place, we each returned to our respective homes. Though obviously, I had a shorter drive than they did.

But my weekend of distractions wasn’t over. You see, a week ago Sunday, a friend of mine past away, and her funeral was Saturday. After seeing Konnie and her family off, I hurried home, changed, and went to the chapel where the funeral was being held.

At least after I got home, I was able to open my computer again. But that doesn’t mean there hasn’t been distractions. I already mentioned some major ones, but well, there’s also a trip to the doctor on Monday, and errands, again, and on Tuesday, there was an unexpected visit from a friend, a trip to the eye doctor (new glasses) and a church meeting.

And I don’t need any of that to be distracted, since my thoughts can run off on tangents at the slightest inclination, frankly, it’s amazing I have finished six rough drafts. Most of my manuscripts are like the one Konnie requested a current copy of yesterday.

I did send it to her, but later, she complained that I’d started making changes to it, and hadn’t even finished the changes.

“Well, yeah, I know. I got distracted.”

The fact is one of my other stories started calling to me, and I’ve since set that one aside to work on the one I am now working on. I get distracted real easy. It’s amazing I’ve worked on this one for over a month.

Happy writing everyone! J

On Higher Education by Konnie Enos

I recently I came across an article where the TV personality Mike Rowe from Dirty Jobs was commenting on his thoughts on “free college education”. Of course with the current political campaign I was a little bit interested, though I only read it because the heading said he was opposed to Bernie Sanders’ ideas.

I thought about my own kids. My oldest child graduates from college on Friday. Her two sisters are either in college or planning to start soon and already know what they will major in. The same can be said for my oldest son who is still in high school. My youngest however, well, he may or may not attend college. Even though he does have an aptitude for computers, I’m not sure he’ll go to college.

Here’s the thing. I don’t care.

I wouldn’t care of any if my kids decided not to go because there are plenty of other ways to get the skills and education you need to be employable.

I have an associate’s degree in both arts and science, and I very nearly earned my bachelor’s degree in arts. I technically have no marketable skills. Not that I don’t have skills, I just don’t have a degree that will get me a job.

My husband has only a handful of college credits, but through job training programs, and on the job experience, he has marketable skills despite the fact he has never earned a college degree.

I have never understood why, as a culture, we are pushing our young adults to go into a huge amount of debt and get this little piece of paper saying they persevered beyond the basic required education. Some people just weren’t cut out for college and there are plenty of necessary jobs out there that will get you through life.

I actually like how my aunt handled getting her three daughters educated. She told them she was going to pay for just one year of cosmetology school then they could work their way through any further education they might want, suggesting they get their LPN as she had done.

Their oldest did as she suggested then, years later, as a single mother, she earned her RN degree. Their second did get her license then got married and raised a large family. Their youngest got her license and went to work. As I understand it, she manages at least a couple of shops today. All three, as far as I know, are happy with their lives.

I know people with mounting college debt. How much smarter would it be to get that education without the debt like my cousin did? But then if college isn’t the thing for you, why go in the first place? Why not do what my youngest cousin did and get marketable skills in a trade school then get to work doing something you actually enjoy?

And think of this, what would this country look like if we had no mechanics, construction workers, plumbers, cosmetologists, nurse’s aides and a host of other jobs you either learn on the job or in trade schools?

So no, I’m not going to push my kids to go to college. Because as I’ve always said no two people are exactly alike so cookie cutter answers cannot possibly be the solution.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.

Backtracking by BL Hamilton

I'm a frequent backtracker, and I mean backtracking, not backpacking.

I'm talking about my writing. I'm constantly going back and changing things.

It not so bad when it’s something relatively easy, like when its just a minor tweak; I just have to go back, and find the appropriate spot, or spots, where that item should be there, and then get back to where I was.

It really only takes a few minutes with that handy tool call “find” just as long as I know the scene where it should have been, and can come up with a single word, or distinct phrase, that will take me right to it. If I can’t do this, or I’m not sure where I need to add that something, then it’s a big pain, since I’d have to start from the top and skim through the whole manuscript looking for all the right spots to add it.

I’ve done this both ways, on just my current WIP.

But sometimes it dawns on me that my character couldn't, wouldn't, or should say or do what I have them saying or doing. There’s always something, to the point that I get the feeling my writing works on the two steps forward one step back basis. I’m just constantly backtracking.

I’ve been known to have to go back several whole chapters. None of which is all that bad, except when the changes I make, change everything that happened after it. I really hate when I come up with those.

This last week, I had a moment when I realized that a minor character wouldn’t just stand by and watch. She may be minor to the story, but she’s got quite a personality, and inserting her more fully into that scene changed the outcome of that scene, changing everything that I wrote after that, and made a huge difference in the story.

And it needed it. Well, actually, I needed a way to get the main characters out of that scene earlier, but that didn’t seem possible with all that happens in that scene, until I considered this one minor character. And then I realized I she wouldn't have just stood there. And a new scenario played out in my head.

Backtracking that time was kind of fun. I knew what words to use to find the scene, because it the name that minor character’s business and better utilizing her strong personality did get the hero and heroine out of there a lot sooner. J

And aside from all that, what I am currently writing is really backtracking. I realized I needed to add and change several things near the beginning of this one manuscript of mine. Most importantly, I realized I needed to show what happens between Tuesday and Sunday of the first week the Hero and Heroine meet.

What I had before touched lightly on those days, in just one paragraph, as in not anywhere near enough detail, so I thought I should add about a chapter, and forty-three pages, and almost three chapters later, I’m on Thursday. I think now I might be showing too much, but I can edit out what I really don’t need, once this story is finished. It’s not going be a short any way, never was going to be because it covers too many years.

In fact, I was originally trying to cut down scenes to make it shorter, but since I can later turn the tables and have other characters stand in the forefront, I figured I should make each section as long as I can and edit them down later, after it’s finished.

This may well be my next monster manuscript though. I even think it might be bigger than my first one whose rough draft was over 130 thousand words. Yeah, I think this will be much bigger.

Though I doubt it will rival Konnie’s so-called opus, whose rough came out at over sixteen hundred PAGES! Yeah, I don’t envy her the job of editing that monster.

Happy writing everyone! J

Passing it on isn’t always Good by Konnie Enos

Seriously people I don’t get it.

I understand why people go out in public when they know they are sick.

Okay, I know I’ve gone out when I had a cough, but having a cough doesn’t always equate being contagious. Like today. I’m not contagious. Just have the after effects of a cold. I’d never leave the house, if I waited for the days without coughs or sneezes. But going to school or church with any of the signs of illness, such as stuffy noses, coughs, sneezing, and body aches, just doesn’t make sense to me.

I’ve heard the excuses.

“It’s just a little cold.”

“I’m almost over it.”

“I’m not that sick.”

That’s completely beside the point. You are sick!

If you can’t think about your own health and getting yourself better by resting, then be altruistic and think about all the people out there you might run into and infect with your “mild” cold.

Back in 2002 during the Winter Olympics in Salt Lake City, UT they had an outbreak of a really harsh illness called RSV, which can be deadly to preemies, and kids under a year old, or anyone with a weak immune system. For most people, old enough to fight it off, it wasn’t anything other than a “mild” cold, mostly just a runny nose.

My youngest was still under a year old. A family whose kids had runny noses tended him for me. He got RSV. At one point he went Code Blue. We’re lucky we still have him.

My entire family has asthma. Colds easily go to our lungs. Recently my oldest son came home complaining, for the second year in a row about a girl at school being sick. And for the second year in a row, he soon had the same symptoms. Effectively bringing the cold to a house not only full of asthmatics but one family member has auto immune diseases (yes, I said plural diseases). Not a good combination.

And both times my son complained about her it was that her parents wouldn’t let her stay home even though they knew she was sick.

I so don’t get it.

Are you really so selfish you have to get everyone else, even those people for whom simple little cold isn’t quite so simple, sick?

I don’t care how healthy you are, or how well you can fight that cold off, even if you choose not to take care of yourself. Some people have to take care of themselves and avoid coughs and colds as much as they can in order to stay healthy.

So I really, really don’t get it. Why do people have to be out in public when they need to be home taking care of themselves?

Take care of yourself, get the rest you need, don’t pass that cold on to classmates or co-workers. They might be healthy, but maybe someone they live with isn’t.

Personally, I’d appreciate not catching all these colds because someone had to go to school or church with a cough.

Today my sign off is: Still coughing because a parent didn’t care that their kid was sick.

My Chaotic Life by BL Hamilton

Not too long ago a friend came to my house to help me out for a little while since I wasn’t feeling well and really needed a few things done. At one point, we were talking and I apologized for my place being a bit of a disaster area. She laughed and said my place was more, “Organized chaos than disaster” then said, “I bet you know just were everything is.”

Well, yes and no. My spare bedroom is a huge mess, and will take a long time (if I ever get to it) to clear that up and organize it. The hall shelves are another mess, but yes, I pretty much know where everything is, I have lived here a while and I do pass that a lot. I can’t help but see it. And another huge mess is my couch, most of the time.

Frankly, give me a warning before you come to visit, otherwise the only seat available will be the recliner across the room. Well, and the kitchen chairs. There is literally no room for anyone else on my huge, monster of a couch because spread out next to me are a ton of things I use or need at hand’s reach on regular basis, starting with my blood pressure cuff, my equipment to check my blood sugar, and my medicines.

I also keep my laptop and my reader, and a few reference books. (Let’s face it folks sometimes books are better!) And, during the day, I usually have a couple bottles of water with me. Of course, sometimes one is empty, but with two, I don’t have to get up as much.

Okay, yeah I’m lazy! Not! I only take one bottle with me when I’m out and about to do errands, unless I know I’m going to be more than a couple of hours, and hey, I don’t want to run out. No, I keep two bottles at my side, because I don’t want to interrupt my writing that often to get a refill.

And there are other things that have found a home on my couch, instead of somewhere else, because I simply haven’t put them away, or they just plain belong there.

Like Scotty, my big shaggy Scottish stuffed dog which was a gift from my husband years ago. And the throw pillows, most of which are on the other end of the couch. And of course, my phone’s base is on the sort of shelf at the back of the couch, within easy reach. It would be easier if I remembered to keep my phone on the base because then I wouldn’t have to search for when it rings.

It would also be easier if everything on the couch stayed in the exact same place, but I’m constantly tossing through this stuff looking for either my remotes or phone, or both.

Why is it always those things that are buried? Okay, honestly, unless I’ve straightened up the mess recently, I generally end up searching for something. About the only things that doesn’t get lost in this mess are my laptop and the zippered binder I use to try and keep my finances organized. But that, like everything else, only works, if you remember to use it.

Yeah, my life is a mess and try as I might, I think it is going to remain this way for a very long time, mostly because I can never seem to stick to any one task for very long. Take yesterday morning when right in the middle of fixing my breakfast it dawned on me I didn’t get any laundry done the day before, even though I had gathered and sorted it. And that I really needed to get that going, before I forgot again, so I set aside what I was doing and to just real quick get a load in, figuring it would only take a couple of minutes, since after all it was already sorted.

Yeah right.

When I finished getting a load in, I remembered something else I’d forgotten and the next thing I know I’m getting a little light headed and there’s my breakfast half fixed sitting on the table. Yeah, that wasn’t a good start to the day.

I’ll try harder today.

Happy writing everyone! :) 

Wimpy Men by Konnie Enos

Why are men such wimps?

My husband in the last few years, due to age and an inherited tendency to dislocate kneecaps, has developed arthritis in his one knee.

I’m not saying he’s not in pain but he takes this to extreme.

Because of his knee, he can’t drive. (It’s an automatic and his left knee.) Or sit and wait for his kids for an hour. (Yes, sit comfortably.) And, even though he insisted we rotate everyone through doing the dishes, because of his knee he can’t take his turn.

And frankly I’m getting tired about how often he complains about his knee hurting.

Then there’s me.

Sometime in the spring of 1972 I fell off the monkey bars at school, right onto the bed of pebbles. One small stone hit the small of my back just right to break it. The doctor told me I came within centimeters of being in a wheelchair the rest of my life. He also said I was young and would heal, feeling no ill effects from it.

I don’t think doctor’s back then understood enough about how arthritis works back then.

By a year later I noticed I could no longer do the exercise called the bicycle where you held your lower body up in the air by your shoulders and peddled your legs. Well, I could, but I couldn’t get as high as I had before.

Not long after that I noticed standing long enough to say the pledge was a strain on my back. In fact, it started to hurt. If I stood for even one second too long the sweat would bead up on my forehead and I’d feel the desperate need to relieve the load on my back by sitting, or at least bending forward and leaning on my legs. It hurt.

By the time I was in my late teens even sitting to long could cause me a few moments of problems. I’d go to stand up and couldn’t walk with anything more than a shuffling gait for a few seconds. In the morning, when I first got up, it could take a couple of minutes for me to be able to move normally again.

After I got married I did my best to keep up with the cooking and cleaning and caring for babies and toddlers, despite my back, but it wasn’t ever easy. Try chasing a toddler who is just learning to walk and they can still move faster than you can.

     Try standing in front of a sink for half an hour washing dishes once, or twice a day when you can’t stand anywhere for more than a minute without you back screaming in protest. Try mopping a floor when doing so will for sure tie your back up so bad that you won’t be able to move again for at least two days afterwards. And bending over to get clothes out the dryer isn’t much easier.

I did it for fifteen years.

Then I realized my kids, and husband, were quiet capable. Now I have help with most of the household chores. Though I still do my share.

In fact when I had bursitis in my shoulder and couldn’t possibly wash dishes, I still helped. My youngest washed while I rinsed using my other hand. Oh, I also sat down while I did it. I’ve been sitting to wash dishes for years, because I obviously can’t stand that long.

So tell me. Why are men so wimpy?

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.                                                                                     

My Unproductive Week by BL Hamilton

The things I hate the most about how different Konnie and I are is number one, she doesn’t have ADD, and number two, she’s ambidextrous. It annoys me no end that when my right gets tired, I can’t just switch and use my left hand with equal ease.

This doesn’t just apply to writing longhand. The other night, my carpal tunnel was acting up in my right hand, while I was trying to eat soup! Try doing that left handed. I’m sure Konnie could do it. I did manage, but was it hard.

Then there’s Konnie and her magnum opus, which she worked on for years and finished it, working on it a little here, a little there, . . . well, I admit she took breaks once in a while and worked on some of her other stories, she even started a couple more. And there are whole blocks of time where she doesn’t get any writing done at all every month; she’s too busy being a mom.

But well, she can keep at one story for a whole month. This last Nano (National Novel Writer’s Book In A Month Challenge) I didn’t even manage that. I started two new stories then, and guess where they are right now?

Yeah, you guessed it. LIMBO! Just like every other story I’ve yet to finish.

Oh, yeah, I do have six stories that I reached “The End” on, but let’s face it. Two of those have been cut up so bad they are far from complete now. And the other five? Well, the first one, first two really, took me twenty years to complete, and most of those twenty years, they were sitting in a box gathering dust. And one of those two I have since lost something like five or six chapters of so I pretty much have to start over.

Then the next one I finished took me eighteen months. But I have a certain friend who would periodically ask me how it was going for the entire eighteen months. You would have thought he’d be content with the fact he’d managed to convince me to write the dang story in first place, but no! I had to finish it.

And I thought I’d never ever manage that stunt again, but I did keep writing. I started another one then suddenly, as usually happens to me, a new idea popped into my mind and wouldn’t let go. So I started writing it and ten weeks later, I had me a hundred and thirty thousand plus word rough draft.

I figure that one is a fluke, it’ll never happen again!

But boy what a ride!

Yeah, I know there are authors who can pound out a rough in six to eight weeks, if I ever manage that, it’ll be a miracle. I usually don’t stick to one project that long. Either I get bored with it, (need a break) or some other story intrudes.

Except for this past November, I can usually manage to stick to one for four weeks, but six? Hasn’t happened yet.

And I’m such a slow typist, four weeks just isn’t enough time to finish a novel.

Though I admit, I’m getting closer. This last year, I did complete sixty-three thousand words. For the last two years, I’ve managed to complete way more the fifty thousand words during the Nano, but that’s because I have more time to do it. Except I’ve never been able to maintain that level of intensity all year round. Sort of wish I could.

But tomorrow is another day.

Happy writing everyone. J

Everything is Relative by Konnie Enos

The other day I was having a conversation with a couple of young girls and my older son in which I was saying to those girls that my younger son was a big boy. My son with me insisted he wasn’t that big.

I said, “Size is relative.”

For my son, who is only an inch or so shorter than his younger brother, his brother isn’t that big. However to a couple of six year olds, a boy who is well over five and half feet tall and close to 200 pounds is pretty big.

I told my son when I was younger, like those girls, my dad would get huge Christmas trees and put them up in the living room at Grandma’s house each year. They were really tall. When I got older however the trees got shorter. Or so it seemed.

Then one day dad told me that he always got trees about six foot tall.

The trees weren’t smaller. I was bigger. Size is relative.

Now take this a step further. Many people today say everything is relative, meaning what is right and what is wrong can only be defined by the individual and their circumstances.

I watched a recent CSI: Cyber episode in which a man and his father-in-law took upon themselves the task of finding a kidney for the man’s wife by kidnapping people to harvest a kidney from them. (It should be noted the father-in-law was a surgeon.)

While the man was apologizing for kidnapping these people, however, the father-in-law saw nothing wrong with his actions. He had no intend to kill anyone, he simply wanted to save his daughters life.

The fact that without written consent he not only perform surgery, but took an organ from someone to save his daughter’s life never entered his mind, even though he would have lost his license for attempting such a thing had he still been a practicing surgeon. He felt he didn’t do anything horrible, because he didn’t plan on killing anyone.

Not that it mattered. Laws are absolute, not relative. They kidnapped, and one person died because of it. They were charged with three kidnappings and one murder.

But in this day and age far too many people think everything is relative. They think they can define morality or what’s right and wrong by their own code.

Just for a moment imagine the chaos that would exist if every human being could actually affect the definition of what was moral for themselves. Imagine a society where everyone defined their own laws.

How could you prosecute someone for killing if by their definition of murder they hadn’t killed anyone? How could you get them for theft if by their definition of stealing they’d just “borrowed” it? How could you get them for rape if by their definition all they did was enjoy some sex? How can you get someone for lying if by their definition they weren’t misleading the truth? How is it cheating if the person doing it doesn’t define it as such?

Do you see how that is chaos?

When people define their own morality they start justifying lying, stealing, cheating even killing other human beings.

So as I talked to my son and told him size is relative. I thought of all the things that people today like to say are relative, like morality, which really aren’t.

Somethings are absolute. Like all those Christmas trees over the years have been about six feet tall. What changed is my height, so I viewed the size of the trees differently.

Other things never change, no matter the era or how people view them.

Dystopia stories are popular right now. Just imagine one with a world where everyone defines their one moral code, their own laws.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.

ADD and Me Again by BL Hamilton

Okay, I set out valiantly trying to add a good deal to my manuscript Cruise To Love, and I did start out okay, I added about 3k.

Yeah, I know, it isn’t much for two weeks. And yes, part of the problem was my ADD, but not all of it, in fact only a little bit of it. The problems started when my feet started hurting. Not only was nothing helping, but it got worse. At one point, I bawled just trying to walk from my bedroom to the bathroom, and I’d taken some pain pills before that! It was awful.

I couldn’t write while I writhing in pain. I couldn’t even think beyond the pain. Then I started the new medicine, the stuff to make my feet not kill me, and that meant taking the time to be sure the stuff didn’t make me drowsy before I started driving again, which was a hardship since that very week my sister-in-law, who depends on me to chauffer her around town had several appointments. I couldn’t take her. Plus our niece’s wedding reception was that weekend. 

Then there was the fact I couldn’t concentrate. Well, no that isn’t quite the right word, I couldn’t focus on writing, reading I could manage, and I did a ton of it, reading through several of Konnie’s manuscripts, some finished, and some unfinished.

And mentioning things I noticed in one of those, spurred Konnie into action. She’d worried before she needed to take one storyline out of one of her manuscripts, and now she’s finally working on doing it.

Problem is, that means deciding how to change things, which means brainstorming.

And guess who her brainstorming partner is.

Of course, it hasn’t been all her stuff we brainstormed on, since at one point, I did finally get writing again, and I realized I didn’t understand one character at all, so we spent one brainstorming session discussing her motivation. The results were that I had to go clear back to nearly the beginning of the story, at least a point in the first chapter, and do some tweaking.

At least it wasn’t completely back to the drawing board, totally open a new file, and start all over again, but I didn’t get very far. And I actually have one more excuse for not doing much. Or is it two? 
Okay, one was my niece’s aforementioned wedding reception, which, since it was down in Bountiful, Utah, took a whole day. And then there were two Sabbath’s in there. Though I admit one of those Sabbath’s I spent the whole day with my feet up and watching videos, but that was the day before I finally got into see a doctor, and got on the right medicine. I just couldn’t manage anything beyond the basics that day — food, water, and trips to the bathroom, period.

Anyway, I’m back at it, and trying, so, well instead of wishing me luck, why not try kicking me in the you know what if you discover I’m not working? I could really use the incentive.

Happy writing everyone. J

Diversity and Barbie Dolls by Konnie Enos

Recently Mattel announced they were coming out with new models of Barbie dolls. Basically they were making them in more diverse sizes so girls could find dolls in their shape. From the articles I read they added like three new shapes, petite, curvy and tall.

Most everything I’ve read is praising this move saying now girls will find a doll in their body shape, pointing out how the dysmorphic shape of Barbie has caused girls for generations to have issues with their own bodies.

Since I received my first Barbie doll nearly forty-two years ago (I still have her, and then a great deal more), I feel I’m in a unique position to comment on this debate.

My favorite, and first, Barbie was Skipper. Forty-two years ago when I got her, Malibu Skipper was a pre-teen flat chested, flat footed, short doll. Back then I was a pre-teen, short, flat footed and extremely far from flat chested girl. Barbie, with her impossible to accomplish waist size, still had a chest size in keeping with what I had going on. Yes, I have a Malibu Barbie as well.

Then I see the article about the three new body shapes. You mean you have a whopping four body shapes to account for all the diverse shapes in the world?

I’m going to guess one of them isn’t petite, curvy and overweight. Though at twelve I was just petite and curvy. Nope, they don’t have that shape either. So no Mattel. You’re still not diverse enough.

But then people are saying girls have poor body images because they played with Barbie dolls.

I have five stuffed full trunks at present count. I’ve never in my life expected to be tall, with a way to skinny waist, big hips and still have my well-endowed chest. I wouldn’t have minded making five foot tall and not weighing more than 120 pounds, but I also wouldn’t have minded not being as well-endowed. So I don’t think I’ve ever expected or even wished I looked like Barbie.

I’ll admit girls who already have body image issues, thinking they’re fat when they’re clearly not, could easily have a problem with dolls like this, but let’s bear in mind that we’re talking about girls with health concerns. I seriously doubt the shape of a doll is going to be a problem for healthy girls. Sorry, it’s just a doll.

If you want to address diversity, make more male dolls. I’ve looked. A handful in the adult male sizes and at present none in the boy sizes. Seriously Mattel, I want some boy dolls for my Kelly and Stacy dolls to play with. While you have whole lot of friends for Kelly, absolutely none of them are boys.

In other words, Mattel, you’re not doing enough to be diverse. Step up your game Mattel. Include everyone. Make boy dolls in younger sizes.

And while you’re at it, make a larger selection of clothes for your adult male dolls and for your child size dolls.

And once upon a time you made Grandma and Grandpa Heart and a sheepdog dog for the Heart family collection and I really wish I’d been able get them for my collection while they were available because that, along with several child sized boys, would make my large family of Barbie dolls complete. And some large cars, and more trunks. I never have enough of those.

Then all I’d need is a room just to display them all.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.

ADD and Me by BL Hamilton

One of several things Konnie and I do not have in common is ADD. I have it. She doesn’t. Which probably explains why she has only four incomplete manuscripts and a whole slew of complete ones while I have six manuscripts for which I have finished the rough draft on, and well over 20 for which I haven’t finished at all, and that doesn’t the count all variations of any one story which I’ve kept, but discarded.

And, if you count her monster sci-fi manuscript as five novels (it’s certainly long enough to be that many), she has ten completed novels, whereas I only have six, and that’s counting two for which I did finish the rough on but have since done some major rewriting on, and the rewrites are not finished. And here I am the one with loads of time to write and she’s the one who has a daily battle with her family to get even five minutes to write!

Somehow, I’m getting the feeling being able to come up with new stories so often isn’t as such a good thing after all. I mean, how can it benefit me if I can’t finish what I start?

I don’t think I can, or would even want to change how I often start a story, decide I need to change or delete some major point in the story, and essentially start over. I mean, really, if you were to open my documents, you’d find tons of files; and in each folder there are several files, most are older versions, or variations of the story then there’s the “clips” file for that story, and character list, and a calendar of events for that story. Some also have lists like who’s in what class, or I have three with essentially family group sheets for the story. Two of those have family groups for several different families but the other one is for just one very large family.

And, if I hadn’t lost them before I got a scanner, I’d have floor plans and/ or maps for several of these stories in the file too. I really need to work on replacing them. I drew them once; I should be able to draw them again.

And in some of these files, without my various “notes” files, I wouldn’t even know what the story was now, or why I started it. Why I have one or two files, which are just notes (nothing more than an idea) that I’ve yet to expand into a story! I’m not even counting them on my incomplete story list.

In fact, just counting the ones which have reached a word count of twenty-five thousand or higher I have seventeen unfinished manuscripts, not counting the two finished but now in the middle of major rewrites. And not counting all the variations of any one story or the ones, which are just notes, I’ve started another eighteen stories. I have just notes on four and one scene that hasn’t got a story to go with it at all!

On top of this, for the last three years, my writing goal has been to complete at least two novels and I haven’t done it once. So here I am again, hoping to complete a rough. I’m only going for just one at a time, and maybe I’ll finish one or two of these before November comes around again, when I know I’ll start a new one. I’ve started a new one every November for the last thirteen years. (Last year I actually worked on two novels; one is on the under 25k list, and the other is on the over 25k list. I did manage over 60k this past November.)

Anyway, my goal for the next two weeks is to at least add around 25k to my Cruise To Love manuscript, which would bring it to almost done, but not quite. If I can maintain my Nano average, I should be able to finish this manuscript in three weeks. That’s if I can stick to it. Here’s hoping I do.

Happy writing everyone, and wish me luck! J

My Rant by Konnie Enos

Being a mother I do make efforts to accommodate the needs of my family, pulling me every which way, but sometimes I wonder when my needs get met.

When my husband has insomnia and stays up half the night he makes me get up with our boys to get them to school in the morning, because obviously he can’t drive. He crawls in bed and starts snoring while I’m still trying to drag two boys, both bigger than even my husband, out of bed.

If I happened to stay up late trying to get something done, which is usually reading or writing (those are both important) I still could end up taking the boys even if my husband was asleep the whole time I was awake.

Don’t get me wrong, he usually has an “I don’t feel well” reason, but so far I’ve only been able to get out of driving them once. (Ok, it was for most of a week, but it was pretty hard to drive when I couldn’t use my right arm.) All my other reasons for not wanting to take the boys haven’t held up.

If I’m tired well so is he and he manages to be snoring when we should be leaving with the boys. One time I had to take them in my nightclothes even though my husband was fully dressed because he was snoring and I didn’t have any time to get dressed. And he has never accepted that I’m busy at 5:30 in the morning and don’t have time to take them, even though my day can be so packed I often have to start at a dead run as soon as I’ve got the boys out the door and I don’t get a break until I can finally go to bed that night, around 10.

I guess my problem is that men just don’t understand.

He sees me spending a great deal of time on my computer and probably figures I’m doing just what he does all day. Surfing the web, not much of anything and certainly not anything important unless he’s decided to learn how to repair something or like right now, grow something.

The thing is I don’t surf the web.

I get on, check a few key sites, read the headlines and maybe an article or two if the headline grabs me then I deal with my emails and get to work. I track our finances and pay all the bills. Then I write, when I can get the muse talking to me. And now and then, when I can’t get my mind on writing, I’ll play some of the solitaire games available on this thing. If I’m not on my computer there’s my handcrafts. I’ve started a new afghan. Then all the chores, errands and otherwise dealing with the kids.

The only time I remotely dawdle around is the few times a week I get on Facebook, where anybody could lose track of time, which is why I try to limit when I’m there. I don’t have the time to waste.

I guess I’m just frustrated right now because my husband’s mad at me for not showing any sympathy for his poor arthritic knee that he’s limping on.

All I can see was other than walking to and from that car, he didn’t need to use that knee to drive the boys to school and he’d had two full night’s sleep plus he tends to take naps. Me on the other hand, if I get a nap, I’m sick. Plus in the last two nights I’ve been trying to write and ended up staying up late so I’ve managed may six hours of sleep in the last 48 hours. Who do you think should have been driving the boys this morning? Certainly not me.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day. Please, I could use one today.

Rest In Peace by BL Hamilton

It’s January again, and the second anniversary of Tom’s death was only a few days ago. I’m also back to having trouble concentrating and spending more time watching Gilligan’s Island than doing anything else.

Of course, it doesn’t help that we lost Bob Denver this last week.

Actually, this last week, with all the high profile deaths, most of those from cancer, hasn’t exactly made the week a fun time for me. Cancer took my beloved Tom. It’s hard to think about all those other people suffering and dying that way.

And of course, I’ll miss them.

In fact, I think, after I’ve finished watching all three seasons of Gilligan’s Island, I might just watch Harry Potter. And if I had any Eagles CD’s (really wish I did) I’d listen to all my favorite songs by them. I do have some Crosby, Stills, and Nash CD’s, so I could listen to them. We lost one of their members this week too. I also wish I had the old TV series Grizzly Adams on DVD. And that isn’t even half who we lost this past week.

But death is part of life, and how we deal with it is part of who we are.

Personally, ever since Tom’s death I keep finding myself preferring to watch to Gilligan’s Island around this time of year. They say laughter is the best medicine. Personally, I think it has helped me cope and keep going. Sometimes it does help to forget our problems and just laugh. It’s not as if you’re forgetting they exist, or trying to bury the memory. As I said, finding something to laugh about helps you cope. For me that’s Gilligan’s Island.

A good belly laugh never hurt anyone.

But all this has gotten me thinking about my stories. I’ve never been any good at humor, and I find all my characters are rather serious. Very rarely do they laugh. Let’s face it, I haven’t got much humor in any of my writings, and it’s certainly something I can work on. I need to at least try to give my characters something to laugh about at least sometimes, because everyone should laugh sometimes.

So how about it? Do your characters laugh sometimes?

Or do you have some tips to help me fix that problem in my writings?

Happy writing everyone. J

The Twin Thing by Konnie Enos

Over the last several months Bonnie and I have had several opportunities to be in each other’s company, which has given us a few more occasions to experience being twins. We experienced things like the spacy cashier who didn’t recognize there was two of us standing there, to the people I see on a regular basis who did double takes and numerous other reactions.

When we first met up it was with my husband, oldest daughter and a friend of said daughter and we were at a restaurant. While I was reading the menu, and not paying much attention, Bonnie said something about “Yes, we’re twins.” And I looked up to see a staff member at the table. I assume they did a double take.

Later Bonnie and I went to dinner without those three and the cashier didn’t seem to notice that there was two of us standing there. Bonnie paid for her food and moved away then the cashier moved to helped the next customer and saw who she thought was Bonnie standing in front of her still. At least her statement indicated she assumed I was the customer she’d just helped.

I pointed to Bonnie. “That was my twin sister.”

Only then did she do a double take, which baffled both Bonnie and I. I’d been standing right next to Bonnie while she paid for her own food and we weren’t dressed alike, not even the same colors plus her hair was down, around her face, while my hair was clearly pulled back. Perhaps if mine had been down it would have been clearer since mine is obviously longer than Bonnie’s right now. Anyway, we couldn’t figure out how the young woman hadn’t noticed there was two of us until I pointed it out.

Of course we did have another experience with a cashier, a far more intelligent one.

Bonnie again went through the line first and paid for her purchases with me right there since I was the next customer in line. When Bonnie moved to the side and I moved to where things couldn’t block me from his view he did an immediate double take.

“You’re twins aren’t you?”

“Of course.”

He said he had identical twin sons and the three of us talked about twins while he rang up my purchases.

Though the funniest was a lady I see regularly. I walked past her with Bonnie right behind me and she said something to me then noticed Bonnie and gasped. “Two Konnie’s.”

Well of course I stopped and turned around. While statements similar to that are familiar to us, I’d only heard ‘two Konnie’s’ one other time. Usually it was ‘two Bonnie’s’. Though I told her we were familiar with such comments.

Then the last time I saw this particular lady she looked at me and asked, “Are you you or are you your twin?”

I told her where my sister was at that moment.

Being a twin can have it moments.

Being a mom has its moments too. I could go on but my daughter needs me to be dressed and running out the door, now.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.

Computer Problems by Konnie Enos

Today is Bonnie's turn to post but not only is her computer not working, it's in the shop so she is completely unable to get online and do anything about it. I have, in the past stepped in and did a post for her, but being the busy mom that I am, I simply don't have to time to deal with it this morning.

So while I deal with bills, chores and doctor’s appointments this morning, I’ll be praying her computer gets fixed soon and working on my post for next week.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.