The whisper

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Have you ever had something wake you up in the middle of the night, but you don’t know what it was?

It happened to me last night, or I guess I should say in the wee hours of the morning. I was pulled out of a deep sleep by a noise, but what the noise was I have no clue. I only had an impression of the noise, not a memory of it.

I lay there, listening with my eyes closed, waiting for the noise to repeat itself.

That’s when I heard a loud, clear whisper, right beside my ear, that said, “I thought you’d open your eyes.”

My eyes flew open to see…nothing. Absolutely nothing.

So where did the whisper come from?

 

Life is good

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Life is good. Not perfect, mind you, but good. I might even call it great!

Isn’t point of view a wonderful thing? I could choose to focus on the negatives, on all the things, whether big or small, that are less than perfect in my life.

But frankly, I don’t relish the thought of allowing that dark cloud of gloom to hoover over my head.

Especially with sunlight pouring in my living room window like it is today.
And Thanksgiving is just around the corner! The huge dinner with extended family is one of my favorite things of the year.

So I’ll stick to the good stuff, thank you very much!

Honestly, I’ve got a lot of good stuff to be thankful for. In addition to all things family, and my family is pretty close to perfect, there’s my writing career.

  • Gray Zone, my new Young Adult book, will be out soon. (Very exciting!)
  • Stone Woman, my adventure screenplay, is out there ready for the right person to snap it up.
  • Braumaru and Gray Zone have been adapted for the screen and the scripts will be sent out soon.
  • Three of the picture books I’ve written are currently being illustrated.
  • I have the outline of a kid’s book, 15,000 words of a new science fiction novel, and 25,000 of an adventure novel written.

Yes indeed, life is good.

Failure is a friend

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I am proud to say that Failure is a friend of mine.

Oh, I know. Just writing that will make a lot of people think, “What? Who wants to be friends with Failure? That’s just crazy!”

I’ve seen them. They treat Failure like some kind of social pariah and either look away when she’s nearby or run like antelopes from a lion.

I understand. In the beginning I too was afraid of Failure. Even worse, I think I hated her.

Until the day I looked her directly in the eye and discovered goodness there. On that day we became fast friends.

It’s been a fabulous friendship. With the help of Failure I’ve accomplished more than I would ever have thought possible. Failure is a fabulous teacher and every time we meet I can’t help but learn something new.

After we had been friends for several years Failure told me I had earned her trust and she let me in on her little secret. She has a child by the name of Tenacity.

Failure introduced me to Tenacity, and before I knew it we too were good friends.

The years went by and I got married and started a family.
One day I asked my good friend Tenacity to come over for a visit. I wanted Tenacity to meet my kids and get to know them. I felt Tenacity would be a very good friend for my children to have.

“Can’t do it,” Tenacity said with a frown.
“What do you mean you can’t do it?” I asked. “I thought ‘can’t’ wasn’t even a part of your vocabulary.”
“Usually it’s not,” Tenacity said with a shrug. “But rules are rules. I don’t meet ANYONE unless they’ve been approved by my mother.”

I stared at Tenacity for a full minute as the gears in my head did a few hundred turns. Tenacity’s mother is Failure. Friend or not, Failure can be scary. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to add the stress that Failure brings to the lives of my children.

Then I looked at Tenacity’s glowing self-confidence. It was what I wanted for my children. Could I not find a way to introduce my children to Tenacity without introducing them to Failure?

That’s when the truth hit me. Failure is a mom just doing her job as a mom. She’s protective of her child and wants to know the people who hang out with her child.

As a parent, this is something I understand. I brought my children into the world so it’s my responsibility to protect them from the creeps and the crazies. After all, without me my children wouldn’t even be here.

I gave Tenacity a hug and did what any good parent would do.
I helped my kids set challenging goals and introduced them to Failure.

Even though we were friends Failure didn’t cut them any slack. Just as I had done, each of them had to meet Failure individually, on her terms. She tested their strength. Challenged their abilities. Played with their emotions.

In the end it was worth it. They passed the tests and every time one of my daughters sets a goal for herself, Tenacity, complete with that self-confidant glow, is right there by her side cheering her on.

So even though I treasure my friendship with Tenacity, who can make anyone feel that no goal is too lofty or out of reach, I value my friendship with Failure more. Failure has taught me a lot through the years.

Probably the most important lesson I’ve learned is that those who avoid Failure will never know Tenacity.

So my friendship with Failure will continue.
Even though, just between the two of us, I’m still a little afraid of her!

Obamacare stinks

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More than 4,000 books a year. That’s how many it will take before I receive a penny of benefit from Obamacare. (I’m factoring in the monthly cost and the deductible. I’m ignoring copays.)

As an author I am a small business. A very small business. I write books, they get published, and people buy my books. I only receive a small portion of the price of the books, but the theory is that if I can sell lots of books the small portions will bond together to create something that approaches a decent salary.

My royalties are my wages. If no one buys my books, I don’t get paid. End of story.

Yet, whether I sell a single book or not, I’m still expected to purchase health insurance. Even though I’ve only had reason to visit the doctor twice in the last four years. Visits, I might add, that I paid for with cash.

Every book counts. No doubt about it. I rely on those royalties to help me keep writing. They help pay for the electricity that allows my computer to run, the groceries that keep hunger at bay, and all those other little incidentals of daily life that drain the wallet but make life livable (like coffee).

Which explains why the thought of being forced to use the profit from more than 4,000 books just for my healthcare is, frankly, a sickening prospect.

4,000 books a year. Every year. (And that’s with me rounding down.)

That stinks!

 

Idiotic

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Now things are just getting idiotic!

Let’s look at the facts as reported.

A 20-year-old woman gave birth to a baby in a friend’s apartment with the help of a midwife. The midwife felt the baby wasn’t breathing well, so she suggested the baby be taken to the hospital. The mother took the baby home instead.

Read the article:
http://usnews.nbcnews.com/_news/2013/10/25/21161194-amber-alert-canceled-for-ailing-newborn-who-vanished-with-mother?lite%3e1=43001

Note that the terms ‘abducted’ and ‘fled’ were used in the  original article when referencing the mom, which paints her out to be some sort of criminal. Can’t you just imagine her on the run from the long arm of the law?

Meanwhile, the baby is said to be in good health. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?

No one has said that this new mother has a history of mental instability, has a drug problem, or criminal tendencies. She simply didn’t rush off to the hospital to follow the advice of the midwife.

Yet the article states that it is still to be determined whether the mom will be charged with anything.

Really? I think there are a few things that need to be remembered here.

-Women have been giving birth at home for years.
-A midwife is not a doctor.
-Even if the midwife was a doctor, there’s no law that a person has to follow what a doctor suggests.
-The mom–not the midwife, not the doctor, not the state–is ultimately responsible for the health and well-being of her child.

So unless there’s something major about this mom that everyone is keeping hidden I think the person who needs to possibly face charges is the one who put out the Amber Alert.

 

House dream

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Who knows how young I was when I had the dream for the first time, and I’ve had variations of it a couple times a year since.

The early dreams were almost exactly alike. I’d open a closet in my house and discover a secret passageway into a part of the house that I hadn’t known existed. No one had known existed. The house would always be whichever house I was living in at the moment, only with a bonus.

In my early dreams I’d need to brush aside multitudes of cobwebs and layers of dust as I explored the secret space. I was always saddened and amazed that there existed what amounted to an entire house, complete with furniture, unused and wasted.

Somewhere along the way an epiphany hit and I realized that the dreams were giving me a message–to write. That hidden part of the house, the part that was unused and dusty, represented the part of my brain that made me a writer.

So as soon as I began to devote myself to writing the dreams changed. Now the dust and cobwebs are gone and the space is often occupied by a plethora of characters. Once it was even filled with an entire circus compete with ferris wheel and performers!

But just this month I’ve had two of the dreams, both with a new twist.

In the first I discovered a separate house in my yard that I was very excited to find, since it would make a perfect writing studio. But as I talked with my husband about it we were disturbed by a group of neighbors who entered one door, traipsed right across the open expanse of floor, and out the far door. Then it happened again, and again. It seemed the neighbors had discovered the unused building in our yard and had made a habit of using it as a shortcut.

The second dream happened the night before last. In the dream I’d gotten up very early to drive my daughter somewhere, and returned home with every intention of hopping back into bed to snooze until the sun made its morning debut.

But my bed was occupied by two sleeping strangers. I backed out of the room, confused, and began to explore my house. Everything had been changed–the walls, the furniture, the paintings–and the entire house had suddenly become HUGE. I mean, it wouldn’t have even fit on the block, huge.

I raced around, looking for something or someone familiar, only to find every room redecorated and filled with strangers. I finally reached the ground floor where I discovered a check-in desk. In my absence my house had been converted into a hotel.

It was disturbing, to say the least!
Especially since I sincerely think that these dreams are about my writer’s brain.
Which makes me wonder, why the sudden influx of interlopers?

Why ‘Gray Zone’ as a title?

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Cyberbullying is a huge problem that isn’t going to go away
on its own. But since there are numerous stories in the news about teens who
have been cyberbullied to the point of suicide, it’s obviously a problem that
must be addressed.
Part of the problem is getting teens to understand, really
understand, the issue. Some unkind comments and embarrassing pictures that are
posted are meant as jokes, virtual pranks that are thought to cause no harm.
Others are pointed attacks meant to inflict pain.
The problem is that there is a gray zone in which the line
between right and wrong is blurred. Exactly where does a joke cease to be a
joke? When does a prank turn malicious? How do you define the difference
between bullying and teasing?
The gray zone has always been there, but our ultra-connected
world has magnified it to monumental proportions.
What teens need is a user-friendly way to shrink that blurry
area. That’s what Gray
Zone, provides. A way to understand and recognize the problem, so we can
fix it.
By the way, a new media release just went out.
http://www.sbwire.com/press-releases/gray-zone-compelling-new-ya-novel-attempts-to-end-cyber-bullying-pandemic-339061.htm

One star review

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I knew I’d get one sooner or later. A one star review.

No one can write a book that is all things to all people. If one person loves it, another will hate it. That’s the way the world works.

But I’m a little disappointed in this particular one star review. Mainly because I’m pretty sure it’s a fake.

When I first read the review I took it at face value. Someone read my book and didn’t like it. Fair enough.

But when I took a second look I noticed an overabundance of spite and malice. What exactly about my book had made the reviewer so mad? Anger oozed out of every word like puss from an infected cut.

It prompted me to do a little research on the reviewer. What I found surprised me.

There are reviewers who take pleasure in reviewing harshly. They usually seem to think their opinion is worth more than the opinions of others so they review a lot and often. But this one had only one review listed–the one star spiteful attack against my book. In addition, the only person I could find with the same name is a famous scholar and author in France.

Really? What’s the likelihood of that?

That’s when I realized that the one star rant wasn’t aimed at my book. I was the target. Me. Personally.

I shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, I know how the Internet works. I’m well aware that masked bandits act very differently than unmasked ones. The mask makes them feel protected, invincible even. No chance of recognition means no responsibility, so they fling good sense and common courtesy to the wind.

My question is, who did I tick off so much that he or she wants to damage my career?

Oh well. There is one positive to all this. At least I’m getting a firsthand taste of cyber harassment, the adult version of cyberbullying!

Let me tell you, it doesn’t taste good!

I think I’ll go brush my teeth.

Later

I just looked at the review and it’s been edited. Some of the more personal comments about me as a writer have been taken out. Could the reviewer be trying to hide the spitefulness, to make the review appear more legitimate and less like an attack?

If he really wants to hide the attack the next step will be to post more reviews. I’m interested to see if he (or it could be a she) will exert that much effort.

Even Later (because I’m not good at letting things go, or so my husband tells me)

I’ve come up with three possible theories to explain this review.

1. A wanna-be superhero read my book and felt compelled by an irresistible force to go through the bother of assuming a secret identity so he/she could post a negative review to save the world from the mundaneness of my writing. (Strange, but it could happen.)

2. Someone became ticked off by something I did, so he/she decided to teach me ‘a lesson’ by assuming a fake name to write a negative review. In this scenario, no one is trying to save the world, only cause damage with a little cyber harassment. (There are bullies everywhere!)

3. A competing author is beginning a campaign to build himself/herself up by knocking other author’s down. If this instance is correct the reviewer will write good reviews for his/her own work and the work of well-known authors, and write nasty reviews for authors who don’t have the backing of large publishing houses with significant marketing budgets. (Extremely unethical, but I’ve heard of it happening more times than you can imagine. I already have another review that I found out was written for this very reason.)

Update


Out of curiosity I looked this morning and the one star review was gone. (Did I mention I have trouble letting things go?) 

I have no clue what the disappearance of the review means.
Will it come back?
Only time will tell.

Brain tricks

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It’s really funny, the tricks our brains play on us.

The most recent trick my brain played happened because I’ve decided to create a series of videos about cyberbullying. There are so many misconceptions about it floating around. Not only about what it is, but how to handle it.

It’s a complicated issue. Way more complicated than traditional physical bullying.

So last night I spent some time creating a list of things I want to talk about. Some of the things are overall bullying issues, and some specific to the digital world. All are important.

Thinking about creating the videos makes me a bit nervous since I don’t really like myself in front of camera. But honestly, my likes and dislikes aren’t worth a hill of beans. I am on a mission to put the brakes on this whole cyberbully business. If the videos help anybody, anybody at all, they’ll be worth it.

So my nerves were on edge and my mind was focused on bullies and the Internet.

What a bad night that created. I dreamed all night about surfing the Web, and I do mean surfing it! I wasn’t on a computer, I was part of the Internet. I skateboarded along the Information Highway and swam an ocean of data.

It was exhausting.

I tried to escape. But every time I found a likely portal I was blocked and told that there could be no crossing over from the virtual world to the real world.

As if that was the truth!

I was never so glad to wake up in the morning. Being trapped in the chaos that is the World Wide Web is not a relaxing experience. I’ll take the real world any day.