Obstacles--Not Cliffs

I hurt my toe. The one next to the pinky, on my left foot. I wasn't kicking the car tire (this was the only kicking picture I could get without a soccer ball or a karate outfit). I was doing the dishes--around midnight--and stubbed my toe on the stool. The heavy, oak one.

It might be a hairline fracture. I know this because I've broken a number of toes (and other bones, sad stories, don't ask). I KNOW that feeling. I've fractured a toe while wearing ski boots. A little too much pressure and snip! The toes don't even make that snap sound anymore.

So my swimming and walking had to be put on hold. I wear tight sneakers up until bedtime. Previous numerous wasted visits to the doctor's office taught me that they can't cast it, wrap it, or pin it. All they do is maybe x-ray it, but usually it's just a 'tape it to the other toe and stay off as much as possible' routine. I'm pro enough now to do it myself (and better if I may be so bold).

It's an annoying obstacle. End of swimming? No. End of walking? Never. That's the difference between an obstacle and a cliff. There's no coming back for another chance once you're over that cliff, but the thing is to know the difference. (I'm sure if you're up on the mountain, you know the difference between an obstacle and a cliff.) In writing, a rejection is an obstacle. A scathing critique is an obstacle. Giving up is a cliff. Helen Keller was both blind and mute, yet she wrote. Steven Hawking is practically immobile, yet uses his eyes to work a special computer to write and formulate new theories. Beethoven went deaf young, but still went on to compose his, and the world's, best music. There was no 'cliff,' no 'end' for them.

Know the difference.

Char

Becoming Invisible

I worked for a number of years; office jobs, waitress, paralegal. The utility, cable, and sanitation bills are in my name. The mortgage on our house lists me as a co-owner/lender.

But I'm invisible.

My credit card, issued by Allegacy Credit Union through my husband's job, put a stop on my card (I was in a grocery store in North Carolina) because as they 'explained' when I called to find out what the problem was, they suspected fraud. In a grocery store?

They didn't do it to my husband's. We rented a car under this card, so they knew we were traveling over the Christmas break. There was no viable, reasonable, acceptable reason for them putting a hold on MY card. They made me jump through hoops and finally I had to get the hubs to call and clear it up. They listened to him, not me even though I had all the information regarding the expenditures.

So I'm mute.

So I decided to get a credit card under my own name, not connected to the hubs. I went through our bank because they can see that we have joint savings/checking accounts. Again, I had to jump through hoops.

It's amazing how I paid taxes for years, get called for jury duty, vote, and am known in the community.

Why am I powerless?

I don't exist unless my husband is there to vouch for me.

See, my hands are bound.

Women have not come far enough when illegal immigrants can get credit cards easier than I can.

Char

Forgotten Characters

I read a lot and one thing I've noticed; most novels don't have family pets in them. Yes, I'm a cat owner (2 babies who spend more time with me than my children), and pets-cats, dogs, squirrels, etc., figure into almost all my works.

This is Mink, a part Persian, part Maine Coon cat we rescued from a short and brutal life as a barn cat in Upstate, New York. (AKA the "Kitten.')

This is my gal pal, Casey. She, too, is a rescue cat (ALL of my pets have been rescues, ever since I was a little girl), who is what they call a mackerel tabby- she's gray speckled like the fish with orange stripes.

(No beauty queen, but the soul of a poet and a sweetie pie.)

I love the way people interact with pets; my sons coo over them, not afraid of being less manly as they pamper, pet and praise these 'siblings.' Even the hubs, who swore he wanted nothing to do with them (grew up in a house without pets, see?) can't resist playing with the kitten or stroking Casey as she sleeps on the bed and baby talking to her. I think that loving a pet adds a dimension of compassion to a character. People who own hordes of animals and don't take care of them are a different matter. But when you take a pet into your home, feed and love it, talk to it, take it to the vet, and cry when it passes on-I think this makes you a better person. (I didn't say perfect, just better.) We share our soul with another creature that is dependent on us for the rest of their lives (grown children coming back to the nest to mooch not included), and give of ourselves.

Many successful people, i.e. Hemingway, Einstein, presidents, etc. had pets. Maybe if we allowed prisoners to take care of a rescued animal, becoming solely responsible for its care, they would become more compassionate, more giving, and break the cycle of violence. It worked for the Bird Man of Alcatraz.

So don't neglect to put pets into your story; it shows a character with a hidden depth. If they mistreat the animal, well then we know he's the villain.

Char

Commas, Please!

Commas are a funny thing. Some people abuse them; some people ignore them. Me, I love them. See how many I've used already? But all have been used properly. 

I'm a big fan of the Oxford usage. In a series, use a comma after each item, i.e.

A woman should always have a great pair of shoes, a piece of semi precious jewelry, and a knock-em dead dress.

Some people insist that it could be written like this:

A woman should always have a great pair of shoes, a piece of semi precious jewelry and a knock-em dead dress.

No. 

Not according to the US News Stylebook and Strunk & White's The Elements of Style (two authoritative sources in the journalism world). The only time you don't use a comma at the end of a series is when it's names of a business firm:

Johnson, Johnson and Johnson.

So please,don't abuse or misuse the comma; it only wants to work with you.

Char

It's That Time...

So the youngest offspring (although he denies it) made the toilet overflow. Yes, it was FULL of all the nasties you could think of- I won't go into detail. And right before church so I was in heels and a skirt. The hubby offered to clean up the mess.

But you know men and bathrooms. So I spent hours, on hands and knees mostly, scrubbing with bleach and other cleaners: floor, walls (yes, it splattered), tub, sinks, woodwork, foot rug, towels, shower curtain. Spring cleaning a little early. Actually way early since there are still pockets of snow on the ground and I have lots of writing, editing, posting and other writerly things to do in between the mommy/wifey/volunteer stuff.

But I was rewarded.

Daffodils! If you've been following my blog for at least a year, you know I get ridiculously excited for these babies to arrive. Seeing them makes me want to clean out all my garden beds, rake the lawn, plants pots of bright hued flowers, and set up my pool. I am a summer/spring gal.

And with these pop ups come loads of energy; I'm going to tackle a number of projects starting today. I will finish editing my NaNoWriMo manuscript Lethal Dose and then finish a review/book blurb I was asked to do. While I wait for editorial revisions on Blonde Ops, I'm putting together a presentation for the New Jersey annual Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators happening in June (when the second son graduates high school!). I have ideas for 2 other manuscripts, but I'm going to work on the two paranormals-Crash and Burn and Splice-I started months ago (even if my agent isn't that crazy about them YET).

To further motivate me, I found these:

Doesn't look like much, but it's my son's daisies. When he was little he loved them, so every year we had daisies. I see them and think of him, and it makes me want to just get things done so I can sit back and appreciate life, gardens, sunshine--and things accomplished.

So go poke around, see what inspires you.

Char

It's That Time...

Love it or hate it, it's....

Don't fixate on the "I don't have a husband/wife/boyfriend/girlfriend/fiance" aspect. Focus on all the love that is in your life; family, friends, pets, faith.

I wish you all love and happiness. Go love someone new, they might really need it.

Char

I Got Distracted...

It happens. You sit down to write, or edit, or do something you NEED to do (work, volunteer activities, studies, etc.) and something comes up. It's like the moment you go to drive somewhere, there's a line of traffic that suddenly rushed to the intersection, making you wait. Every time.

I'm working on a number of projects, and yes, I have a good work ethic, but I do get distracted. What's my weakness?

This is the 'kitten' at almost 9 months old. Mink is part Persian, part Maine Coon. (I think the Maine Coon part is winning- this guy has the biggest paws I've ever seen on a cat. Does not bode well for the grocery bill.) Whenever I settle down in my office to work, he rummages through his toy basket and brings something up (here he comes now; usually it's a mousie on a stick.) Do I stop and play with him possibly losing my train of thought, or play?

I play. He's a living creature that I've taken into my life and he's looking what we for what we all want; love, attention, something to experience. ( Oh look, he brought his favorite string, my son's ridiculously long sneaker lace.) *15 minutes later-- Cats are a part of my life--besides loving two rescued cats, I frequently write them into my books. Hades had Cerberus, the 3-headed dog, so my character, Sharisse, had to be a cat lover. Mink's tired of playing, so off he goes.

My next distraction?

 Food. I'm not a frustrated chef, or a food-a-holic. Sometimes I actually forget to eat. It has to be a necessary distraction. Meals for the family and let's face it, my Chai latte addiction. When I remember, or take the time, to eat, it reminds me to weave some of the everyday-ness into my stories. I've read stories where there wasn't a single mention of eating, showering, using the bathroom. While we don't need a catalog of every meal or bathroom break, those are part of being human. Even zombies eat. Plus, food connects me to family and friends. Instead of having dinner at home, we mixed it up with our friends next door during the Super Bowl. Gotta get out and live life to write it.

Which brings me to: swimming.

I grew up on Long Island, between the Sound and the Great Peconic Bay. I love to swim. If I could be any mythological creature, it would be the mermaid. So, I drag my half unconscious body four or five times a week to the YMCA to swim. Just diving into the warm water make me happy. (And the high amounts of chlorine keep me blonde!) I hate gyms; the stink of stale sweat, the 'look over' as people size you up, or having to decide if I really want people to see me bouncing or grunting over machinery without makeup and wearing outfits from years ago. I know, you think it's worse being seen in a bathing suit. Nah, people are wearing goggles or have water in their eyes, or don't look any better as long as you make sure you're out before the swim team arrives. (Oh, Mink's back...*plays again). It's a distraction that I need; exercise keeps the cellulite away, drives up my alertness and will help me live to 100 like my Grandmother (actually she lived to 105 and for many years did water aerobics).

I must admit to: computer solitaire. (And yes, a character in Blonde Ops (Thomas Dunne, 2014) plays computer solitaire much to the annoyance of the main character, Bec.) Sometimes you just need to veg out on something mindless. I don't play games on Facebook or PlayStation or X-box. (I will however, take on the hubs at Wii bowling and fencing.) So many people spend hours playing, discussing or thinking about these games, they're obsessed. Life's too short to chalk up thousands of hours on stupid electronic games. Sorry, but I've got living to do and my time is limited. I allow myself to how many games I can play while I'm waiting for the florescent lights to brighten up so I can see words on my computer, or while I drink my Chai (I only have one hand free.) Plus, too long on the computer, with reading and editing tends to give me migraines.

So those are my main distractions. There's also the three boys, the other cat Casey, cars, house, church, school, family, friends, crises and sometimes the weather to deal with as they all vie to pull me away from what I need to do (write/edit/read).

But life's like that; so use your distractions wisely.

Char