I don’t write to be famous, I don’t write to be known, I write because I am and I want to be read. How sad to fill a room with paintings no one sees or play music no one hears. Writing is talking without sound, singing without score and dancing without movement and yet, it is all of them. It is a solitary art conjured from thought and expressed by the need to communicate.

HEAD SLAPS, SPEED BUMPS and LIGHTBULBS, one woman's WTF, oops and ah-ha moments of life.

They were published once, and as every writer knows, once is not enough.

Monday, March 2, 2020

Fate in the cards

So…here I am on March 1st sitting at my kitchen table writing. All I can think about is how our world, yup the entire world, has changed regarding the possibility of a pandemic. Some say we’ve already jumped the fence and some say not quite yet.  Where I live we have not been touched just yet but considering how (cliché alert) few and far between my posts have been, by the time I jump on again the world may have gone to a dark and scary place.

Though I am one of those so called high risk mature-types if the monster mounts my porch and slithers under my welcome mat I will deal. If for some reason our little town were to be locked down for two weeks (and staying indoors was the order) the biggest risk (and I can’t understate this) my husband and I would be at each other’s throats by about day 3.

So…here I am on March 2nd sitting at my kitchen table, setting aside the news and working on a family tale-of-truth. This new project chronicles a financial miracle which came down our little country road almost 20 years ago, knocked on our door and changed our lives. It is the stuff of dreams. I AM NOT UNDERSTATING THIS.

Fate plays an amazing game with our lives sometimes. Whether it be a virus the size of a nightmare or an unimagined life changing incident…my advice…never ever discount the possibility that at your darkest hour a wild card may be flipped your way.  

Wednesday, January 1, 2020

A glossary of terms for writers (UPDATED)

 For the New Year I have resurrected and updated my
Glossary – a really lame dictionary.

Writer - a person who thinks they have something to say so they write it down even though they are afraid to have someone read it.

Fiction – brain drivel.

Non-fiction – brain drivel by an expert or by someone who claims to be an expert.

Memoir – a written document with the consensus that your boss will fire you, your friends will shun you, your family will disown you and your children will claim to be orphans. When it becomes a movie you will be tapped for loans or sued, by all of the above.

Novel – clever untruths built with a lot of words.

Short Story – clever untruths built with less words than a lot.

Essay – clever truths. Less words interesting. A lot of words boring.

Cliché – a smartass use of someone else’s smartass phrase.

Spell check - the penicillin, Salk vaccine and morning after pill for all writers.

Edit - leaving the fancy outfit on the floor for the perfect jeans and T.

Punctuation – all the little marks writers use to convey speech patterns on paper.

Period – the 28 day dot (.) to denote when the writer runs out of thought.

Question mark – do you think it is a hook with a dot (?) to denote when the writer doesn’t have an answer?

Exclamation point – a line with a dot (!) used sparingly to denote, really, really, and I mean really, exciting wow-words!

Comma – a tiny, little, itsy bitsy curve of a line (,) when the writer takes a big breath.

Dash - that little line (-) right after the word “dash” that most writers don’t know when to use.

Preposition – a word, which by its use at the end of sentence, illustrates a writer’s frustration such as, finding an oven in which to place one’s head in.

Bold – this.

Italic – that.

Title - a royal’s preface.

Prefacewhat a writer really wants to say first-off which no one wants to read.

Title Pagedepending on sales, a birth certificate or obituary.

Plagiarism - stealing someone else’s drivel and calling it your own drivel.

Sentence – amount of time a writer spends in prison after stealing someone else’s drivel.

Agent – a writer’s love/hate all-in-one vice-principle, first-mate, heir to the throne, sentry/bouncer who reads really fast.  

New York Times Bestseller List– If your book is on it you will have the title tattooed on your ass.

Oprah’s Book Club – like being the first to be picked for dodge-ball.

Oprah’s Book Club Update - Is there still an Oprah’s book club.

Query – a writer’s post-it bio combined with Tolstoy’s War and Peace as a Hallmark Card.

No Response Means No – a Dear John letter lost in the mail.

Form Rejection – a Dear John letter not lost in the mail.

Personalized Rejection – if you lose weight and have breast implants John might ask you out.

Publisher – a cross between God with a small “g” and your freshman English teacher.

The Call – comes when phone lines are down, your cell phone is dead, your computer has a virus and the garbage truck runs over your mailbox.

Publishing Deal – comes moments before you decide that writing is a sucky waste of time and head for the tallest building in the city from which to throw yourself off of.

The End - this.

Monday, November 11, 2019

Time, use it wisely

We’re in.

It is heaven to finally be surrounded with our things. Heaven to be back to just us. Heaven to cook for two people only.

Living with our daughter, her husband and our three year old angel of a granddaughter was a privildge but now, living in our new and spectacular in-law apartment has us settled in, finding a new routine and loving it.

My biggest revelation is how easy it is to live with less. I’m amazed by how the once seemingly unimportant has been pushed to the front of the line.

Things hold memories. And not simply things that enhance our limited space. The nonsensical, the battered, the broken and repaired little things that speak of someone dear or of an incident to precious to risk ‘forgotten’ I saved and display and use and remember.

We live in a mere 620 sq. ft. That’s a smidgen bigger than a two car garage. But sweetie, this ‘ain’t’ no garage. The ceiling in the living area soars above us almost fifteen feet. The space has a wow-factor that still surprises me every time I enter the room. The kitchen is bigger than my former kitchen and shares the wow-factor vaulted ceiling. The bathroom is huge. No sharing laundry facilities with the big house or traveling to a laundromat, my stackable washer and dryer tuck in their own nook. I love not having to go to the basement to wash clothes. Our bedroom is small. Queen sized bed, a couple of end tables and shelves for books, TV and memorable pieces. No dressers because our HUGE closet holds all our clothes and whatever else has to be stored away. We even have an attic above (almost full) and a half-high basement below. Amazing what less-used things we have stored down there even though we have to stoop over to move around.

I designed our small home and I’m so proud because it, (cliché alert), suits our needs to a T. I can’t think of one thing I’d change.

Living with less has become a blessing. We are sheered sheep. We have shed all the snarls and are brushed smooth of snags.

As I sit here writing, listening to beautiful music and looking out a window that slopes down a gentle hill to the road I realize how much my life has changed. I am grateful that a little over eight months ago I survived, grateful that I acted fast and had a medical team whose only task at the time was to save my life. Grateful that my family has taken on the huge changes we have made and forever in debt to the higher being who contemplated my existence and said, “not tonight Carolynn.” You have some time left.

I hope I use it wisely.