Musing on politics

The talking heads on the news drive me nuts.

Months ago, I was watching the democrats funneling down to their candidate.  My sympathies were on Hillary because I admire her in many ways, but really didn’t want her to win the nomination because – I didn’t want her to have that much responsibility or work.  She’s done so much!  She’s only ten years older than me, and the thought of being burdened to such a level, in ten years time, was more than I could consider.

I was OK with the young, dynamic, Obama.  But, did the American people need to have an old vet?  Would that be better for the country?

Then running mates became the focus.  Joe Biden was announced.  OK, a man I could admire on many levels.  I could give this man a hug and feel he was actually hugging me back.  But, McCain is a good man too…

My husband Ed, gave me the news,  McCain has chosen a former beauty queen, from Alaska,  as his running mate.

I had this strong feeling, McCain just lost the election.  I didn’t have an image of Sarah Palin then, knew nothing about her.  As the weeks progressed, and the journalists had fun, I began to wonder, what a McCain/Palin ticket would mean to me, personally.  To my daughters, my grandsons.  I listened to more talking heads those few months than I ever have in my life.  My choice was going to be – what does America need.

I admire those that work in service to others.  I feel, sympathy, for those that are attacked in the news.  I did waffle on how to place my vote.  When that day came, Ed and I, canceled each other out with our votes.

I’m not smug, when Ed points out stuff our new Prez is doing, that my hubby agrees with.  We are all here for a greater purpose, and each day is a new beginning.

A Touch of Croup

Our oldest child was born in 1981 and I didn’t follow a baby-book guru.  The baby guru debates had been going on in my house for years.  Our daughter was #10 grandchild, in 6 years, so I learned motherhood by osmosis years before she was born.  The older generation, of mothers, was part of the  debates, sharing handed down old-wives tales, as has been done, through the whole history of humanity.

Now we have the internet.  Motherhood has become terrifying.  Medical terms and labels, worst case scenarios, and when to call 911, are the first things.  There’s also homeopathic sights with herbal remedies for dosing baby, but since I’m not a herbalist, sound like poison.    Then there was a chatty site by a totally-natural mother, who knew her child would eventually get something…

Eventually all these advice sites mention,  Croup is a common airway condition during the winter months.  Croup is notable for the wheeze-breathing, and cough that sounds like a barking seal.  Recommended treatment is moisture, in the air and in the mouth.  Steam up the bathroom, use a humidifier by the crib.  Feed formula (or nurse) often, even if only 2 oz. every hour.  (really?)  Water and juice will not coat the throat.   Most cases of Croup go away in three days.

It’s day two and he’s been asleep for 2 1/2 hours this afternoon!  Breathing sounds good.  My fondue pot has done the job.  I hand him back to his parents before my 6 pm Screenwriting Class.   By the time he returns on Monday morning, da-croup-be-gone.

That is the bonus of grandmother-hood!

Adapting

Today  was a grandma day.  Usually he naps at least two hours, morning and afternoon.  But, this afternoon he was on an hourly schedule.  2 oz formula, 10 minute nap, awake again. Kicking, laughing, wanting to play.  40 minutes later, 2 0z formula, 10 minute nap, awake again…

He’s 3 mos and has a little congestion and croup.  I don’t have a humidifier or vaporizor in the house so I got out my fondue pot and filled it with water.  It worked great.

I hoped to get more of my screenwriting homework done today.

Screenplay Update

Last quarter, I took “Intro to Screenwriting”.  In this class, my biggest issue was formatting.  My story aspects were haphazard, because I’ve never thought in visuals before, and they were short, the longest was 15 pages.

Last week I began working my 392 page novel down to a 120 page screenplay.  OMG!  I expected to shorten, tighten, make more active.  I stripped out all exposition and added one word prompts,  for – emotion.  My confidence rose as I moved through the middle of Chapter 2.   Then I got to the next scene.

If you’re not a novelist, this might not make sense but, OMG!  I had this awesome scene with the heroine and her friend (mentor/sidekick)  learning how to do a Tarot reading, with a “How-To” book.   The scene was full of cool quips, foreshadowing, characterization, and – nothing visual or active happens – it all got cut.  All of it!

Barely had I recovered from that surgery, and only two scene’s later, I introduced a pivitol character for the heroine’s internal journey.  Her brother.  Who lives in Chicago.  Never appears on stage.  Long-distance phone calls.   I didn’t cry when I silenced and stripped him from the pages.  Wiped clean, only a reference to his existance.  I had to leave that, just in case.

Now I really know why novels never transfer well to the screen.  Not even the novelist can change that.  My only comfort is, the novel remains, to be edited again.   If anyone want to buy the movie rights, they can have them.  I’d rather a real screenwriter butcher my characters, and scenes, then murder them myself.

Gift Exchange

My best friend and I exchanged Christmas presents today.   It’s been a busy life!   Most years we scramble to get together between Christmas and New Years.  Some years we’ve laughed to gift each other with different versions of chocolates and candles.

We’re both Taurus women in our late 40′s (she’s not as late as me).  We met when our youngest daughters became best friends in 3rd grade.  Our oldest daughters were our “wild child”!   We both laugh loud and enjoy red wine.  We share interests in many things, but may never have met, if our daughters didn’t.   Our childhoods, and current lifestyles, are almost opposites in what we experience daily.

This is the greatest value of friends, the differences.  Our life attitude is the same, but the lessons learned and the knowledge gained, is unique to ourselves.    When life throws one of us a challenge, the other has already been there, in some way.   The advice and support we give and receive could come from no where else.  There is no greater gift, to exchange.

That’s why we always find something, that just “calls” to us, for the other.  We want to get together and unwrap the surprise, it’s the “remembering the package”, when we see each other during these holiday times, that can be the challenge.

Exchanging gifts is also a challenge in May, when we have our birthdays.

Thanks but…

Professional writers know to target what they write, to their readers.   Artistic writers follow the muse, with no insight or intent, to connect to a reader.  It’s the beauty of the word/idea/image, etc.  !   Neither of these two types of writers are devastated by a rejection letter.  The first may contemplate on how to avoid this experience in the future, then file the rejection and move on to the next target market on the list.  The Artistic writer may wave, the rejection, around as an example of how their genius is misunderstood.

Most writers fall somewhere between these two extremes.  I’m one of these.  I do have a file in my office, with rejections from agents, book publishers, and magazine editors.   I have no intention of wallpapering a bathroom with them, the day after my first big sale.  Every year, I clean my office and organize my files, and come across this file of rejections.  It gives me pause and shows my journey, as a writer, and how things have changed, in my perception, of the publishing world.

I always said I would write my parents love story, someday.  I had no idea how huge a project that could be.  But I did it, after my parents died in 2005.  I had to learn a new version of my craft, as a writer, to do so.  Which is cool, and sent me on a journey of learning other versions, of the craft of telling story.

As I market my memoir, of my parents, to the publishing world, I have selectively targeted who I approach.  It’s been sort of fun, to get the new and softer version of, a rejection.   Personal notes from editors, agents and publishers – who wish – they could be the one – to take on this project – but…

Friends have suggested I self-publish.  I love public speaking, I understand marketing.  I’ve been told, I’m a force of nature who’s too damn optimistic and willing to learn, what needs to be done.  Readers want a new love story, that is so amazing, I should just get it out there, so they can read it.

My personal challenge to write this memoir, was presented by my sister Rose, the poet.  Rose stated, no matter how great the story, the reader wants to connect with someone -who’s not already dead.   Shit.  That would be – me…

Which is why I won’t self-publish.  The story deserves a team of  professionals, focused on the craftmanship of words, paragraphs, and chapters, and not be all about me, the child, instead of the love story.

Blessing and Curse

I have a really nice home.  1,800 sq. ft, 3 BD, 2 BA, KT, LR.  The living room is good size at 24×15 and there’s a 6 foot wide doorway to the kitchen.  This is a huge Country Kitchen, 25×25 and makes my home a great place for parties.  The dining table extends to seat 12.

One year ago, my husband and friends, installed beautiful Cherry Hardwood floors through the LR and Kitchen.  I was away for a writer’s retreat through most of this.  (Blessing!)  They did an awesome job and it’s wonderful the way the light catches on the grain.  There is no break or transition through the wide doorway.

Here’s the curse, I can’t just wash the kitchen floor, where the dog drools the most.  I have to keep going through the whole dining area and through the doorway and do the LR too!

Credit History

In 1979, I completed a year long course to become a Certified Bookkeeper.  This was before the days of Excel, and Databases were new things.  I wanted to be a bank teller and loved working in a Credit Union.

Today we are in a “credit crisis”, and lots of people I know have recently been through, or are going through, tough financial times.  I’ve been there too, but fortunately it was in the 1980′s, when people were still processing billing statements, and entering payments.  Now we have computer phone calls for missed payments.

My daughter has a car loan.  Her daddy co-signed.  She mailed her check over a week ago.  They called yesterday, and again today, that they haven’t gotten the payment.  Two other checks she wrote on the same day have already cleared.  My words were useless, because I am not my husband, or my daughter.  I am a non-entity, even though they called my home, and I answered their questions.  No notation can be made to the account.

A few months ago, a fellow chapter member in my writing group was concerned.  She got two envelopes in her newsletter envelope, that were obviously bill payments, that must have slipped into the envelope, since the flap was tucked, not sealed.  This was an issue because the member lives in Canada and the bills only had US postage.   Fortunately, she was planning to cross the border within the week, and would drop these bills in a US mail box.

I’ll never know if those payments reached their destination.   The original sender may have gotten calls about missed payments, checks that hadn’t cleared, with no knowledge that the checks went to Canada first.   So I wonder where my daughter’s check may have journeyed, and how many times we’ll get a call, because they didn’t arrive by the due date.

Until recently, if a payment was missed, the company would bill us for the two months, on our next statement.  Only after 90 days, with no payment, would a call be made.    Now they are made on day 31, and every day after, until the payment is received.    I’m amused at this panic to get a $200 payment, because the creditor calling for my daughter’s missing check, is Chrysler Financial.

A few hours later, today, I got a call that I had an overdue payment.  MCI was calling to let me know I hadn’t sent my $39.90 for last months long distance service.  Could I make an electronic payment over the phone?  Not likely!

They can wait for my check, and if they cut our service, there are other companies to consider.

I could add a whole bunch of stories on this theme.  The point is, no matter how horrible the creditor makes it sound, if you miss a payment or your check arrives a week late, it’s not the end of the world.  You might have to pay a fee, it might not be your fault.

The credit crisis, for many today, is high drama, being created,because the human factor of doing business with people, by people, for people, is no longer professional.  It’s a computer generated oddity.

But the lesson on my part, since I was the one that mailed the newsletters, and tucked the flap instead of sealing it…

I seal the flaps.

The US post office deals with enough.  My fellow Americans don’t need their bill payments getting sent to Canada first.

I can only do my part, a tiny ripple in the pond.

Time Warp

I’ve been amused to see the time of my postings.  I’ve adjusted the UTC time stamp to -8 for PST.  So if you’re interested in what time I really wrote a post before this one, subtract 8 hours.

Writers have to understand time runs differently in the traditional publishing world.  Editors buy books today, they hope readers will want next year, the writer wrote last year.

If we’ve done good, and are lucky, our books will make it to the “literature” section, long after we’re dead.

An American President

An obvious post today, but I’m referring to the 1995 movie by Rob Reiner/Aaron Sorkin; starring Michael Douglas and Annette Bening.   It’s one of my favorites and I’ve watched it enough to quote, but I won’t, a Google search on the title will give you sites where you can read “Andrew Shepard’s” final speech.  It’s enough to raise the hair on your neck as he talks about “serious times…advanced citizenship…it’s all about character”.

I love the characters, the romantic conflict, and seeing a prez explain to his 12 yr old daughter, “It was a parent teacher conference where (teachers name)  and I were the primary players.”

Every time I’ve watched this charming movie I would always state, “I want a president like that.”  Intelligent, articulate and “with a greater love for this country”.

I recently read The Audacity of Hope, after the author became Prez-elect.  I hope this book becomes required reading for High School ‘Government’ classes.  It’s compelling reading.

An hour ago, I watched Prez Obama’s speech on the web.   He’s such a dynamic speaker.   I was impressed, and feel good, about the potential leadership now steering the opportunities my grandsons will choose.   I didn’t see it live because I had a teething 3 month old claiming my attention.

Now we are once again, on page 1, chapter 1, and the future being written in real time.

Expectations

A few ideas to post, swirled in my thoughts today.   Catchy words, sassy ideas, but as the day unfolded, a theme did swim to the surface.   My expectations about starting a blog and finally creating a page on Facebook were rather low.   I really didn’t want to add another detail to my day.   I’ve felt that approaching the 5-0 this May meant, it is time to slow down the pace of tasks, and focus only on those that mean the most.

But I found it invigorating, fascinating, to pop around Facebook pages of people I know, and be surprised at who they reveal.  I always give myself a little time in the day, to follow an interesting path through the web, to see where it leads, until I’m surprised.   I’ve griped this past year about feeling out of touch, not having time to connect, missing a sense of community.   Today it was all here, no phone tag, no schedule conflicts, no time differences, no excuses.

I viewed my neice’s photos from her trip to Thailand.  I saw one daughter is reconnected with friends from her childhood.  I read how a friend took a trip through an internet rabbit hole and learned some cool things.  I followed a link to a woman’s blog and learned gardening tips.

The point is, I had low expectations about this new version of connection that feels so impersonal.  Instead I’m feeling inspired.  When those rare opportunities to connect face-to-face arrive,  we’ll have a more personal connection.  All it took was a few point-n-clicks, on pictures of people I know, to see what they want to share.

Connecting

This past week I’ve noticed I’m not the only one reconnecting!   Maybe we’re all following through on our New Years resolutions to do so.    This past year many told me, life was whirling around them, and they forgot too many family birthdays, or they missed chatting time, or sitting down to a nice dinner with friends.

The theme of 2008 for me was to finish up promises I’d made to family, while holding true to my own dreams.   The promises were the parent kind, support and advise my girls on beginning their independant lives, holding true to their dreams.  It’s amazing to me that my girls are suddenly grown with careers as an Optician, Accountant, Massage Therapist and the youngest feels she’ll focus on teaching.  Right now she’s the acting Food Services Manager at Mt. Hood Meadows resort – at the age of 19.

My dreams are specific to my writing, take it to the professional level, publish.  Which took me back to school for classes on writing, theatre and Speech.  I really loved Speech class.   For a mother of 4, having two dozen fellow students listening to me, was empowering.  It wasn’t just that they were required to listen, the questions they asked meant they were interested in what I said.  Yes, I am considering joining a Toastmasters group.  But first, my primary love, is story, and the dream, to connect with readers.  So that’s my goal for 2009.

I did keep a big promise in 2008, to facilitate my husband’s life long dream.  He’s always wanted to live on an airpark, build his own hangar.   This was a drain on my time and energy for a while, but his dream came true and for me, I’ve got another wild story to tell.   It’s going to take time and talent for readers to connect with that one.  Private pilots are a rare breed; the ones that actually want to live with their airplanes, very few.

Readers like that.  They want to connect with characters they would never be, face challenges outside the opportunities of their lives, and follow the drama and conflicts to a new understanding about – something – that the reader can then own.  A story to enjoy, treasure and feel it was worth the time and escape, to read.

That’s my dream, to be that type of writer and connect, with my reader.

So it is written, now it’s up to me to get it on with it!

Screenwriting Class

Novelists love learning all the ways to tell stories.   That’s why I returned to college in the beginning of 2008, to learn how writing is being taught outside of writer workshops and conferences.  It’s been a challenge and I’m considered an “alternative” student.  I have a past career as a tech writer and a decade devoted to my hobby of novel writing.  I’m trying to break bad grammar habits and business attitudes to learn academic writing requirements.

I was thrilled to take a class on screenwriting, and this is my second quarter learning this visual language.   We are to write a first draft of a complete (movie length) screenplay this quarter.   I’ve got two weeks to create the first 60 pages, the first half of the “movie”.  It’s intimidating!

Before I begin new projects, I clear up anything that could get in my way.  It’s helpful that all my girls have moved out, and I have access to an empty room that’s warm.  I also have a book I wrote 5 years ago that I recently decided to revise.  My teacher is OK with me using this story to adapt into a screenplay.  The challenge will be keeping a focus on one main character, and showing in visual action, what was written as introspection.  It’s also going to be half or less of the book.  I’m sure I’ll learn a lot of respect and compassion for screenwriters who adapt books to movies.

Since I took a two year pause in my life, to learn how – and write – a memoir, the return to being the master creator of a fictional world is thrilling.  It’s also nice to see what I’ve learned about story these past 5 years and entertaining to see I wasn’t too bad back then either.

What is my platform?

I attended an awesome workshop this weekend, presented by Alicia Rasley and she stated an author needs to be an expert on something to build community, and become an authority, which will promote interest in the books an author writes.   Which makes sense – especially for non-fiction.

Except, my dilemma, the book I am currently marketing for publication is a memoir of my parents and childhood.  I’m certainly an authority on this subject.   I also know, enough to be dangerous, about astrology and astronomy and a bunch of other really cool stuff.   I also know, enough to be irreverent, about loss and death.   The obvious path may be an awareness that Disability is Natural and we are all People First.

The publishing world is still looking for good stories, strong author voices, and to stay in business.   Yet there is this new genre on the rise.  It’s the inspirational market.  This is an obvious next step, to me, from the Self-Help to New Age explosion, readers want to take.

Could I be an authority on spirituality?  Only if you want a good laugh!

Laughter is a direct connection to the angelic realms, so is music and art.   I’m not an authority on the last two, but the first?  Yeah, I know angels look at me and get a laugh, because I’m always telling them what they don’t want to do, if they try on this human condition.

Which brings me back to my platform, I won’t know if there is value to what I know, untill I’m asked a question.

When the Journey ends

There is something about the holidays that makes us focus on who has already left.  This holiday season my husband and I both got word that one of our cousins had died.  One was 54, lived in Slovenia, and we visited with her this summer.  She was the healthy and happy center of fun for her family and left this world from a lung disease.  The other was a larger than life cousin of mine.  61, heart attack.  He left a legacy of people he helped and inspired, family members he employed, and a grown family who are financially set for life.

Both were awesome people who helped others, lived life large in their way.   Yet, sorrow at their loss is the primary reaction.    The next reaction is anger – they died too young, if only, they’d paid more attention to their health.  Being me, with a twisted perception of death, my reply to these comments is – they had no reason to focus on their health, until it became an issue.  Until then, they focused on happiness.

Isn’t that what matters?

Grammy delights

Here’s the focus of my life this week, grandson’s Devon and Kiernan.   On Monday Devon returns to Kindergarten and after-school child care.

Keirnan and I will be snuggling 3 days a week.

My life has been volatile this past year, so I asked for grandma duties this first year of Kiernan’s life to get grounded and into a routine again.

I’ve always been odd, others gripe about being in a rut, I pleaded for baby duties to get into a rut.

What do you do when life spins out of control and your daughter doesn’t oblige with a content and beautiful baby to hold?

Hello world!

And so, it begins.   I have entered the world of blog.  It’s totally fitting the Chrysalis Women Writers kick-started this journey.  They have been the catalyst, network and support as I’ve worked at finding my voice and learning my grammar.

Eventually I’ll have topics and links, news to share and readers who care.