Identity theft?

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Now I’ve seen everything!

Yesterday I was searching the Internet, trying to find any new review that might have been posted for one of my books.

I came across this photo.

I recognized it immediately. It’s a picture of me at about 4 years old. I have an exact duplicate of this picture in my photo album. A real, physical photo album.
My cousin had posted it on her Facebook page and tagged it as me a couple of years ago.
Now here’s where things get strange. The photo was not from my cousin’s page, but had been reposted to three separate pages and had been tagged as being three separate people. None of them me.
Is this a new form of identity theft? Is my childhood being stolen?
Or have I just entered…the Twilight Zone?
Da – da – dum!

 

Why so fascinating?

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I’m not really sure why the sight of a half demolished house is so fascinating.

 

Maybe it reminds us of unfinished business.

Or the promise of what will be. What wonderful structure will take its place.

Or it could simply be that a half destroyed house sparks our imagination. Allows us to see that big yellow machine licking its jagged lips in preparation for the next crunchy bite.

I’m not sure why the sight of a half demolished house is so fascinating. It just is.

Department of Temporal Adjustment video review

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I remember well those days of waiting for a baby to be born. No matter what else was going on in the world, that due date seemed to creep closer at an ultra slow speed.
Or at least that was how it was for me.
Thank you, Tina, for taking the time and effort to make this video. I sincerely appreciate it!
Good luck with your new addition!

A day begins

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People in this black and white world are milling around, laughing and talking as they choose food from the buffet, but I can hear no sound.
I move to the center of the room where I spot a small child, a girl with the slightly flattened features typical of children born with Down Syndrome, sitting alone and dejected at a table.
As I watch a woman places one hand on the child’s chair and uses her other to set a plate heaped with food onto the table in front of the girl.
Instantly, the child’s frown transforms into a smile and her happiness seems to light up the room.
Crash. A sound breaks through the barrier of my dream and I can feel myself being pulled through a long dark tunnel toward consciousness.
Click, click, shuffle, ping.  As the noises become clearer I realize that any chance I have of
returning to my dream state is quickly fading.
Sizzle, scrape, slap. The smell of French toast wafts into the room and I breathe deeply to capture as much of the delicious aroma as I can.

Click, rrrrr, click.  Now the heady fragrance of freshly made espresso invades the room and tickles my nose.
With a sigh I concede defeat, push aside my warm blankets, and swing my feet over the edge of the bed. As my bare feet hit the hard, cold floor it becomes official—I am awake and the day has begin.

Those 10%

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“Don’t listen to the naysayers,” the motivational speaker told the crowd of entrepreneurs. “For every nine people who like what you do, there will be one who hates it, and that one will shout his dislike from the rooftops.”

As a writer, it’s something I’ve already experienced. Every writer has. Yet I listened avidly because it never hurts to be reminded that thick skin is needed for success. Or maybe a bit of armor plating. Just enough to deflect the nastiest of barbs by wannabe critics.

“They hate you because you’ve done what they want to do,” he continued. “They’re jealous of your success.”

Hmm. I’d never looked at it from that angle before.

But I realized that the speaker might possibly be right, especially where writing is concerned.

Based on what I’ve observed, and numerous Craigslist posts I’ve come across, many people have odd views about the profession of writing. They seem to think that a writer simply puts words on paper.

No craft needed–just type. It’ll all be good.

Because in their view everyone who writes is a writer. 

That’s like saying everyone who boils an egg is a chef. Or anyone who sticks a bandaid on a cut is a doctor.

That has never been my view. So before I added the title ‘Writer’ to my business card I made sure I deserved it.

I now have more than a decade of the craft under my belt, as well as a Creative Writing Master of Fine Arts and five published books.

So when I say I’m a writer I don’t merely mean that I write.
I’m an author.
I’m a novelist.
I’m a screenwriter.

My skin should be pretty thick by now. But sadly, I’m still not faster than a speeding barb, more powerful than a snarky comment, or able to leap a bad review in a single bound.

So I’ll just work on adding that extra layer of armor.

And I’ll keep telling myself to ignore those 10% who’ll never like what I do. Whatever their reason.

I must focus on the 90%.

Success will only possible if I ignore those no’s.

 

Parenting. What it’s about.

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I watch the news. I listen to other parents talk. I read articles and books.

Wow. There certainly are some confused people out there. Especially when it comes to parenting philosophies.

I am amazed at how often I see, hear, or read about people who think all it takes to be a good parent is a car to whisk kids from activity to activity, money to buy lots of games and toys, and a day camp to keep the kids busy the rest of the time.

As if it were that easy.

They might as well hire a nanny and stop pretending they’re putting in the time that’s needed to bond with their child.

Because rushing around from activity to activity to keep kids busy is not what parenting is about. That is attempting to parent by auto-pilot, and it doesn’t work well.

Sure, it will probably work just fine while the kids are little. But as soon as the little ones become big ones the burner gets turned up under the kettle and trouble starts brewing.

Ever seen an angry teenager?

Kids getting a clue is inevitable once they learn math. They soon figure out just how small that percentage of time is that the parent is spending, really spending, with them.

Auto-pilot parents appear to spend time with their kids, good parents really do it. I’m talking here about a great quantity of time. That old myth about quality time is just that, a myth.

So just to be clear I’ll lay it out for all to read.
Good parenting is about sacrifices, big and small.

It’s about an hour spent shuffling through news articles–even though you have a hard deadline on a project due the next day–so a freaked out fifth grader will be able to complete her homework assignment.

It’s about hours spent in the emergency room watching, just watching, each painful breath of an asthmatic child.

It’s about attending every teacher conference, concert, and talent show, even if it means rescheduling that important meeting.

It’s about watching television with your children and labeling bad behavior as bad, unnecessary, and sometimes silly.

It’s about asking questions about each child’s day, and not taking “Fine,” as an answer.

It’s about listening, really listening. Then taking the time to have a real conversation about what you heard.

It’s about recognizing that children are not perfect and will require discipline.

It’s about not always being on the child’s side. Sometimes the child IS in the wrong and it is a parent’s job to correct bad behavior.

It’s about not trying to be your child’s friend.

It’s about being a parent. That rock on which children can build their lives. The giver of guidance and receiver of confidences. The person that can be relied upon in times of trouble.

It takes time to build that kind of trust.

Lots and lots of time.

 

One step

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Lately I’ve been working very hard on marketing. If people don’t know about my books I’m pretty sure they won’t buy them. And if they don’t buy them I might have to stop writing.

Sigh.

The problem is that I don’t know how to do marketing. How do I get my writing discovered by the people who will most enjoy it?

Especially since I have little or no money to spend on that oh-so-important marketing.

So I turned to Facebook. I’ve been a busy little bee, sharing and posting, doing everything in my power to increase the traffic to my Facebook Fan page.

After all, the more people who see my page, the more who will buy my books. Right?

Wrong! I’ve managed to get a ton of traffic to my Facebook page without any increase in book sales.

What I’ve gotten instead are requests for relationships.

I showed the requests to my best friend, who also happens to be my husband. He just shook his head and grimaced.

Then I deleted the requests since they give me an uneasy feeling.

Almost like I just looked down and discovered that I’m balanced on a tightrope that’s been strung across the ocean. Just below me, circling and watching with greedy little eyes, is a massive school of ravenous sharks.

Waiting for me to take one wrong step.

 

DTA is fun to read

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More excitement!

I received another video review. This one is about Department of Temporal Adjustment.
She says it’s fun to read!

Fun was what I was going for when I wrote this book.
It’s wonderful that she actually pronounced my name right.
I love everything about this video review.

Imagining a conversation

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I began writing on a new book this morning. It’s a novel for kids and has an outline, but no title yet. Not even a working title.

When I’m trying to figure out new characters I often let them have a conversation. Conversations reveal so much. Then I write down the conversation and use it to build upon.

These characters are preteen boys in the 1920s who are getting ready for a backyard campout.

Here’s the conversation:

 

“I saw a ghost in the old Jackson house!”
“You did not!”
“I did so. Yesterday. My ball went up on the porch and I went to get it. And there was a ghost, sitting on the porch swing.”
“In broad daylight?”
“No. It was dusk. I was about to go
in to supper. David saw it too.”
“Where is David? And where’s Eddie?”
“They’ll be here soon. They’re
finishing up their chores. But David saw the ghost too. Only he was in the
yard, not on the porch, like me.”
“What did you do?”
“What do you think I did? I ran.
Left my ball on the porch and ran.”
“Chicken!”
“I couldn’t let it touch me. It
reached out for me. It wanted to grab ahold of me and take me back to its grave.”
“That’s silly. Ghosts are just your
imagination.”
“Says you!”
“Yes says me. And my dad. He says
that a ghost is a person’s fear manifesting itself in visual form.”
“What does that mean?”
“I think it means the bigger the
scaredy cat the bigger the ghost.”
“Okay then. How big is your ghost?”
“Me? I’m no scaredy cat. I don’t
see ghosts.”
“Prove it.”
“What do you mean, prove it?”
“Prove it. Go to the Jackson house
and get the ball off the porch.”
“That’s stupid. I don’t want to go
to the Jackson house. It’s dark. And David and Eddie aren’t here yet.”
“Like I said. You’re scared.”
“I am not!”
“Yes you are! That’s why you won’t
go.”
“Why should I go all the way to the
Jackson house to get your ball? If you want it back, you get it.”
“I would, but don’t want the ghost
to get me.”
“I told you, there’s no such thing
as ghosts!”
“Then you should be safe. Go get
the ball.”
“No.”
“I dare you.”
“No.”
“I double dare you!”
“I don’t want to go and I don’t
need to go. I’m comfortable here, by the fire.”
“If you don’t go, I’ll tell
everyone you’re a chicken, and a scaredy cat, and afraid of your own shadow.”
“You’re the one who ran away, not
me. You’re the chicken. Ghosts are not real.”
“Are too!”
“Prove it!”
“I’m trying, but you won’t let me.”
“Huh?”
“Just go to the porch. If you see a
ghost it proves I’m right. If you don’t it proves your dad is right.”
“I don’t wanna.”
“Like I thought. You’re scared.”
“Am not!”
“Are too!”
“Fine. Just to prove to you there
are no ghosts I’ll go. But you have to come with me.”
“Deal! I’ll stay in the yard. You
get the ball from the porch. If you can.”
I know where this is going.
Do you?Note: Is this my best writing? Not even close! This is a stream of consciousness type of writing and isn’t supposed to be polished. If it ends up in the book it will only be after multiple rewrites.