Be Happy, Dammit!

 

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I don't know where I got this list from, (apologies to the author) but it bears repeating. It's been a tough almost 2 years for all of us, although some people have suffered more. Mere words like "Be Happy!" seem almost like cruel platitudes. 

Nevertheless... I firmly believe (having learned the hard way) you can't get true happiness by depending on others; it has to come from within. Here are 6 precises for a happier life:

1.  Don't let the past haunt you; the mistakes have been made. Learn the lesson and move on. (Just don't forget the mistakes and repeat them!)

2.  No one can make you angry, unhappy, resentful, bitter, etc. unless you let them. (yeah, I struggle with this one too because of all our relationships and interconnectedness, but I try.)

3.  No one controls your life or destiny. It is in your hands. Take and maintain control. (Another tough one because of bonds with others.).

4.  Your future can always be changed. You are not stuck anywhere if you don't want to be. 

5.  You are not dependent upon others for your life; use your brains, talents, ambitions, and soul to find your own path.

6.  Nothing is guaranteed in life- not love, health, success, friendship, or luck.

There are things I do every day to be happy: I write, I collect my strawberries, I work in my garden, I go biking, hiking, and swimming, I laugh with my family, and I take some solitude time to read, care for myself, or just be. Discovering what makes you happy can lead you to many new things.

Happy exploration!

Char

To Boldly Go...

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In a new direction. 

(And yes, I know that's grammatically frowned on- split infinitives. It should be: Boldly, to go... or To go boldly.... Humor me).

First, I went to Home Depot and my library without a mask. I'm fully vaccinated and there weren't many people in the buildings. I felt like a rebel, or even one of those people who selfishly buck CDC guidelines. Even with relaxing guidelines, I still felt BOLD. 

My new writing direction is romances. I still have some sci fi, paranormal, young adult, new adult, and middle grade novels to be pubbed, but they are on a back burner for the time being. The reason for going with romance? It's one of the largest selling markets. Humans just love the idea of being in, falling in, and staying in love. That's reason enough to venture into this market. I'm as big a sap for a good love story as anyone. But another reason is there seems to be (so far) less politics. The companies that publish romances have such a broad base that there's room for everyone. I'm not saying that they shouldn't broaden their diversity- I'm just saying there's alot of room. And, it seems that so far (fingers crossed) celebrities are sticking to writing children's books. So while there are a LOT of romance authors, we don't have to worry about a celebrity stealing the spotlight and money that could benefit a number of authors for whom writing is their livelihood.

I'm hoping to hear from a publisher soon about the trilogy I've just finished. I'll keep you posted. Wish me luck.

In the meantime, wishing you all LOVE, in whatever form makes you happy-

Char

Kindness Matters...

 I saw a tweet about random acts of kindness that either changed people's circumstances, or changed them personally. With everything that's happened this year, and who knows what other trials will come our way, it's good to see, remember, and do random (or planned) acts of kindness. I have been the recipient of such unexpected kindness in dark times.

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When I was 21, my boyfriend and I went out for pizza, planning to meet up with his brother, sister, and their companions. Walking into the bar, I was accosted by a nasty drunk. I asked him to leave me alone, and after an exchange of angry words, I walked away, but he picked up his beer bottle, hitting me from behind, and fractured my skull. Just like in the movies, all hell broke loose- a bar fight. Being unconscious on the floor, some guardian angel dragged me out of the chaos over to a corner. I never did find out who pulled me to safety. All these years later, I still wish I could have thanked that person. 

Another unexpected kindness happened when a giant bag of peanuts on my counter tipped over- turning on the toaster oven. On top was a huge bowl of Halloween candy, which caught fire. I came in the back door, instantly choking on the smoke. The local police and firefighters took care of everything, but the smoke damage was so bad we couldn't stay there. My husband was away on business, I was home with two small children, with my mom visiting. Being frazzled and rattled over the whole incident, we went to Wendy's for dinner. After I ordered, I realized I didn't have my purse- or wallet to pay for the food. My kids were hungry and tired. On the verge of a breakdown, I asked the manager who waited on me to put the meal aside, I would go home for my wallet. The kind manager told me not to worry about it. With tears running down a smoky face, I thanked him. I wish now that I had written to the company to commend this man for his kindness.

The most recent kindness was in May, when I fell off my bike. A family, sitting outside on their deck, saw me fall, and came running to help. In the middle of a pandemic, they didn't hesitate to come to my aid. With a head wound, which bled profusely, and a broken arm, I was a mess. They brought a chair for me to sit on, paper towels for my head, and then called my husband for me. This time, when I felt better, I left a pretty plant with a Thank You note on their doorstep. 

There is too much vitriol- either over politics, wearing masks, racial injustice, going back to school, and so many other subjects. I hear people talking about how they don't want to engage on social media, or even go certain places because of violence, verbal assault, and plain rudeness. Just looking on social media, anyone can see this is true.

I don't think anything I say, like 'Be kind' will make much, if any, difference. But how about we all do one random or planned act of kindness. Donate to a food bank. Buy a homeless person a meal. Walk away from someone who wants to engage in arguments. Arrange a socially distant get together. Do something positive. It won't change the world, but for one person, the world might be a better place. Kindness shouldn't be random. 

Love multiplies when we divide it.

Char

The Plot Thickens...

It's said that there are only 10 original plot lines (don't ask me what they are). So I'm kind of confused when reviewers or readers or agents say a plot 'isn't original.' If it were, we'd only have 10 stories, right? You can't count the number of vampire books. Or ghost books. Or angels, mythology, murder, love, adventure, etc. books. No two will be alike (if they are, that's plagiarism and a whole other story although it fits with our theme of "p").

The thing that differentiates those 10 plots is in the details; is your heroine from Cincinnati and has a super power to make machines run on energy she channels? Do you use Samarian mythology? Or create your own species?

So, pick a plot--any plot--and run with it.

Char

Love, Defined

So there I was, chilling at Duke Island Park, listening to The B Street Band (a Bruce Springsteen tribute band). They were very good and I was enjoying myself. The Bruce doppelganger announced that the 'dance floor is officially open.' I saw kids throwing frisbees and footballs, families enjoying ice cream and other treats, and dogs relaxing in the cool night air--but no one dancing.

Then he guided her through the crowd of chairs and blankets and running kids. She was unsteady, unsure, as she walked. I wondered what had happened.

When he came to an open spot of grass, he took her in his arms and lead her in the dance. They were alone, in front of everyone to see her initial faltering steps, but his was sure and smooth, his arms strong around her.

And they danced.

While everyone heard the music, they felt it, moved to it, looking lovingly at each other.

Love defined.

Char

What Two Oceans Cannot Divide

She was born on a family farm in a remote town in Calabria, Italy.

He lived on the farm next door.

From childhood into adulthood, they saw only each other, promises unspoken by word, but made by love.

Then war came, and with it, roving bands of soldiers, looking to impress young men.

And they found him. Took him away to fight a war he didn't want, didn't believe in. Whatever food the soldiers could steal, they did, leaving the families hungry. Only unharvested potatoes, still in the ground that the soldiers refused to unearth, were left.

Away they took him, but he promised to come back to her. And she promised to wait for him.

So she worked the farm, struggling with her family through those desperate times, wondering where he was, if he was still alive.

He fought in Africa until the Allies caught him. And made him a prisoner.

The war ended. Seeking a better life than the desolate farm, he journeyed to Canada, finding work in Chrysler  Automotive plant.

He didn't forget her, but there wasn't enough money to send for her. But he could marry her--by shortwave radio. While she stood in her white wedding dress on the arm of her brother in Italy, she spoke her vow of love till death. From Canada, he promised his love.

She waited. Two years. Then came the day there was enough money for a one way journey to her new world. Leaving behind the wedding gifts, and all she knew, knowing there was little chance she'd see her family again, she traversed the ocean, not in First Class, but freighter.

Soon there was a baby girl. Eighteen months later, a baby boy, their family complete. Five years of happiness.

She ran to the hospital. His last words spoke of his children.

Alone, she emigrated to the States where she cleaned houses, worked in hotel laundries, babysat other people's children to feed her own.

For 51 years she mourned her Tomasso, keeping her vow of no one but him till death.

On a quiet day, she rejoined him and renewed their vows of love forever.


This is the story of Gilda and Tomasso, my in-laws. And I will write their love story.