Jump-starting---NaNo-style

So there I was, minding my own business when two things happened almost simultaneously. Within a couple of days of each other, one of my sons called to give me a "pep-talk" about writing . . . something I've neglected lately for a variety of reasons---and not too long after that enlightening chat, my brother called to encourage me to enter a competition called NaNoWriMo. I'd never heard of this particular delight before (don't make fun) but it sounded intriguing.

My brother went on to say that he and his wife had both tried this adventure a couple of years ago, and had enjoyed it immensely. He challenged me to sign up that very night (October 31) while I was talking to him on the phone. I think he suspected I would bail after our phone chat. ;) He was probably right. So he guided me through the process of signing up. After that, we discussed a few other items, then I hung up the phone. Curious about what I had just committed myself to do, I tried to sign in . . . and my user name and password weren't recognized. I figured that was a sign and shrugged the whole thing off.

The next morning, I was stunned to find a plethora of e-mails from the NaNoWriMo group in my e-mail inbox. Somehow, despite the glitch, I was a full-fledged participant in this year's competition.

I tried to sign on, and ran into the same problem with the e-mail and password scenario. So I valiantly persevered and made a couple of changes. Suddenly, I had access to my own personalized screen with instructions on how to participate in this year's event.

Filled with a new determination to follow this through (the old "if my brother can do it---I can too," philosophy) I began typing away. At first, it was like trying to break through a brick wall. But knowing this particular manuscript didn't have to be perfect, nor please anyone else, I kept typing. Soon I had my first 5 thousand words. What a feeling of accomplishment.

I'm currently at the halfway mark at nearly 25,000 words. I'm intent on completing this endeavor, and the story I started a couple of weeks ago is taking shape nicely. I may even submit it somewhere someday.

I think periodically as writers, we hit a brick wall. Some writers refer to it as writer's block. Thank heavens inspiring challenges like this can help us through this obstacle. I would say the NaNoWriMo event that takes place yearly, is indeed a writing vehicle that can jump-start our creativity.

While it's too late to sign up for this year's event, I would encourage anyone interested in the writing world to participate in next year's event. Here is the link:NaNoWriMo

Incidentally, I've learned that NaNoWriMo stands for National Novel Writing Month which takes place each November. I've been impressed with how many writers take part in this event. And I, for one, will more than likely tackle it again next year. ;) Now . . . back to my budding masterpiece . . .

Today is Veterans Day

Veterans Day is one of those holidays that always seems to get overlooked. After all, how can a day to honor soldiers compete with the likes of Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas? Somehow we manage to forget that without those soldiers who endured unspeakable trauma and too often death, we wouldn't be free to celebrate the flashier holidays.

Armistice Day or Veterans Day was established as a legal holiday in the United States to honor those who fought in World Wars I and II, but has since been expanded in the USA to include members of America's Armed Services no matter which war they served in or may be currently serving in. Other nations who were involved in World Wars I and II observe this day too. In Canada the day is called Remembrance Day. In fact our friends to the north still observe the day more fully than we in the USA do. Though there has been some fiddling with the date, it is still observed by most nations on November 11, commemorating the day in 1918 when World War I formally ended.

As a child, almost everyone I saw; schoolmates, family, strangers on the street, wore a crimson poppy on Armistice Day to show our support and to honor those who fought for us, especially those who were buried on foreign soil. There was a national sense of togetherness brought about by this simple symbol and the dimes collected for their sale went to support programs aimed at benefitting veterans, particularly those who had been wounded. Red poppies still appear on the lapels of newscasters and many ordinary citizens in Canada while the custom has almost disappeared here. I remember that at precisely 11:00 a.m. a minute of silence was also observed in schools, places of business, and even the radio went silent. Once almost every school child could quote the opening lines of a poem composed by John McCrae, a soldier who wished to honor a friend who died on a Belgian battlefield where he noticed the bright, sturdy flowers growing in fields that had been disturbed by war and where the flowers seemed to flourish between the crosses erected to honor the war dead.

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

Perhaps it is human nature to ignore unpleasant things until they touch us personally, but most people I know are hardly aware we've been at war for nine years, ever since America was attacked by foreign terrorists in 2001. Those of us who have had loved ones deployed during that time are certainly aware we are at war, but those who haven't, have too often gone on living their lives mostly untouched by this challenge to freedom and our way of life, other than being inconvenienced at airports and uttering complaints about the monetary cost of war.

Today is a day to set aside our political differences and simply honor those who risked their lives or gave their lives for freedom. It's a day to thank a soldier. It's a day to remember all those who sacrificed time, healthy bodies, or their lives so that we can choose our own government, our way of worship, our educational goals, our careers, and even so we can sit down together with our families to enjoy a holiday dinner.

Famous Rejections

One of the lessons I'm trying to teach my editing students now is that editors have rejected a lot of well-known and popular authors and what that means for them.

In my class, students read several novels and partial chapters of novels that may be bestsellers or award-winners (Pulitzer, National Book Award, etc.). Many of the students are quick to criticize and dismiss before they learn to their amazement that they have rejected a manuscript written by an author who pulls in multi-million dollar advances and sells millions of books. Likewise they may dislike a book that has won the Pulitzer. (I personally find a lot of award-winning books difficult to read. They're generally not "fun" reads. Think Cormac McCarthy's The Road, for example, not a light, pleasant read).

As long as editors are guided by their personal preferences--we're all human, after all--even good books will be rejected, because we don't like the same things. Fortunately, persistent authors can find the right readers/editors for their books, as the stories on this website tell:

http://www.examiner.com/book-in-national/30-famous-authors-whose-works-were-rejected-repeatedly-and-sometimes-rudely-by-publishers

Moral of the story: Keep writing, keep hoping, keep revising, keep submitting, and keep your day job.

Happy writing to you all.

Fifteen Rules for Writing

I've had three little storage boxes full of 3 1/2 inch floppy discs that I can't read with my current computer, but there was valuable information that I needed to save. Our computers at the Family History Center all have the 3 1/2 inch floppy drive so if I don't have any patrons, I've been reading the discs and saving what I need (or can decipher because they don't all convert) or just toss them if the information is outdated.

This is one I was able to save and since it has some great ideas, I thought I'd pass it on. I need it now that I am writing again to keep me motivated. Maybe it will help you in your current project.

How to Write Prolifically by Karen King

1. Take yourself seriously as a writer.
2. Write every day. Make it a habit.
3. Set small goals: so many pages a day, rather than finish the novel by next month.
4. Push yourself to go past your goals. Give yourself pats on the back when you meet or exceed your daily goals.
5. Wipe the slate clean each day. In other words, don't flog yourself with guilt if you fail to meet your goals. (And don't try to carry over yesterday's page count and add it to today's goal.)
6. Don't edit or revise until you finish a first draft. (Oh, that is a hard one for me. I edit what I wrote yesterday at the start of each new writing day to get me back into the story!)
7. Don't critique too early.
8. Do whatever works for you, get up early, stay up late, use a tape recorder, write in the bathtub, but don't get the computer wet. :)
9. Remember if you were not around, your husband and kids would not starve to death, and Pizza Hut delivers. Demand respect and time for your writing.
10. Play your stories in your head, like a movie. Rehearse scenes you've already written and let your characters run on with the next scene. I like to do this while falling asleep or waiting in line. Doing it while driving can be dangerous. The next scene will flow onto the paper.
11. Write through brick walls. When you feel stymied, just write. If it is slop, you can edit it out later. You may be pleasantly surprised by the quality.
12. Identify your problem spots and avoid them. Never leave your writing at the end of a chapter; start the next one. If you reread what you've written frequently, turn off the computer screen. If you backspace and respell too often, turn off spellchecker. If you're not sure of a word, or a piece of research, flag it and check it later. If you watch too much TV and don't write, make yourself give it up for two weeks. (Anything good will be back in reruns for the next twenty decades.) Play too many video games? Make it a reward for meeting your writing goals. Read too many books? (Don't we all!) Glut yourself as a reward for finishing a novel. (Finish writing a new one, that is.)
13. Don't start a new project until you finish the first. Use the energy from the next project that begs to be written to complete the one you are on. You'd be surprised how anxious you are to finish when you don't allow yourself to commit your next story to paper. (Not even a synopsis. A story idea worth writing won't disappear and one that won't hang around probably isn't good enough.)
14. Remember how far you've come and not how far you have to go. Then dig in and start the next one.
15. Never forget rule number one.
Happy writing!

That Old Age Thing

There was a time in my youth that I thought people who were the age that I am now were positively ancient. I laugh and maybe even cringe a bit at the thought. But I have to step back and think on that for a minute.

I don’t move as quickly as I used to. I was told I have arthritis in my knees and I suspect I have it in a couple of other locations as well. But, arthritis??? Isn’t that an old people disease? I won’t use this blog to list my other “ailments” that go along with aging, but rather, my point is there are a multitude of things happening to my body and yes, even my mind :) that have been changing thanks to the aging process. Suffice it to say, I am sometimes taken aback by the older person I see looking back at me in the mirror. I notice the changes taking place that I never thought would happen to me.

So what of aging gracefully? My mother and her mother aged gracefully. In fact, I dare say, they became more beautiful with age. Not only that, but all around me I see women whom I admire aging most gracefully. I have to wonder what the secret is.

I decided to google it. I came up with all kinds of hilarious jokes and articles on the humor of aging. Unfortunately there were far too many I could identify with. It was more depressing than funny. What I learned from that was that humor is one thing essential to aging gracefully. That is not all. I learned much more as I pondered this whole aging process. A couple of articles hit a few pointers right on the nail for me as well. I thought I would share what I have learned.

The whole aging process is an important one and denying ones age though it is a silly, harmless, game played, (i.e. “I’m twenty five again…” or “Still thirty and holding…” etc.) it can also be disabling. After all, those grey hairs, those wrinkles, those scars, well, they are all a big part of who we have become over the years and we have earned them through our lives experiences. Therefore, we should wear them without guilt or shame, rather with pride and joy having survived or accomplished all we have experienced.

When you think about it, you can look back and say I am X many years old. I have learned X many years’ worth of lessons, X many years’ worth of personal growth, X many years’ worth of challenges and happiness, and X many years’ worth of accomplishments. Looking back there has to be some satisfaction for that growth and learning and that in turn can build self esteem. May you live that many more years and find much happiness in them! It’s something to be proud of.

Age doesn’t have to be a debilitating thing for us. We can age gracefully. After all, they say age is a state of mind—(I just wish my body would keep up! The physical stuff is a little harder to deal with!)

I know that as I have aged, my perspective has changed. I know now that the friends I have are the friendships I will always treasure.

I cherish moments with my loved ones as I realize there just aren’t enough of them. This is an about change when as a youth I hated it when my sister came near me or even touched me if I was angry with her or when she crossed to my side of the room after we had drawn the imaginary line.

I have strived to become more knowledgable and therefore more stronger in my convictions which inturn gives my life reason and purpose.

There are times I have become more forgetful, it is true. But maybe this isn’t all bad. It has helped me to be more forgiving— for when I do finally remember, I have discovered that some things just aren’t worth being contentious over.

I have tried to become more at peace with myself and with my fellow man.

I realize more than ever I have much to do and much to learn and suddenly I really don't have all the time in the world, nor all the answers to solve all of the world's crisis's but now, more than ever, I want to try to do my part.

The list goes on. I am finding that maybe aging isn’t such a bad thing. I would never trade my adorable grandson for less grey hair or a flatter stomach and firmer end zone.

Life comes with broken hearts— there we learn strength and love and compassion. It comes with trials and struggles and challenges—there we learn faith, hope, patience and endurance. It comes with adventure and experience— there we can learn wisdom.

Each and every day that we have on this earth can be a blessing. We can either cherish it or go out kicking and screaming. It is my hope that I can learn to cherish it and age with grace.

And so, in ending this blog, I have to add some of the humor that goes with aging. After all, in the beginning I did mention we have to have a sense of humor with aging, right?

When I was younger, one of my favorite shows was “The Sound of Music” Now that does age me, doesn’t it? This may be a bit of that “denying my age stuff” but “The Sound of Music” was the best picture of 1965 and one of the best musicals ever produced. In 1965, I was a little young to appreciate this fine film. But my mother helped me to appreciate it several years later.

This is a copy of a forward I received on Julie Andrews. It fit perfectly with my blog today and I couldn’t resist using it. I was unable to locate the original author: I could certainly relate to her feelings, could you? (Be honest and proud of it if you could!)

Julie Andrews turned 69 and to commemorate her 69th birthday on October 1, actress/vocalist Julie Andrews made a special appearance at Manhattan's Radio City Music Hall for the benefit of the AARP. One of the musical numbers she performed was "My Favourite Things" from the legendary movie "The Sound Of Music."

Here are the actual lyrics she used:

Maalox and nose drops and needles for knitting,
Walkers and handrails and new dental fittings,
Bundles of magazines tied up in string,
These are a few of my favourite things.

Cadillac's and cataracts, and hearing aids and glasses,
Polident and Fixodent and false teeth in glasses,
Pacemakers, golf carts and porches with swings,
These are a few of my favourite things..

When the pipes leak, When the bones creak,
When the knees go bad,
I simply remember my favourite things,
And then I don't feel so bad.

Hot tea and crumpets and corn pads for bunions,
No spicy hot food or food cooked with onions,
Bathrobes and heating pads and hot meals they bring,
These are a few of my favourite things.

Back pains, confused brains, and no need for sinnin',
Thin bones and fractures and hair that is thinnin',
And we won't mention our short, shrunken frames,
When we remember our favourite things.

When the joints ache, When the hips break,
When the eyes grow dim,
Then I remember the great life I've had,
And then I don't feel so bad.

Now there is a sense of humor from a lady who has aged gracefully! :)

*FYI The article I referred to in my blog for information was written by David Leonhardt on aging gracefully.

Traditions

I'm writing this midway between Halloween and Guy Fawkes Night, so I figured I should probably blog about one or the other. I picked both.

My husband chooses not to celebrate Halloween. For a while I had assumed that was for the same reason Evangelical Christians don't celebrate it - because it is associated with the occult and forces of evil. However, I found out recently that the real reason is because he thought it isn't a British tradition. Roderic is very patriotic - it's one of the things I love about him.

I have mentioned here before that we didn't mark Halloween at all when I was growing up. We were aware of it and were a little scared that it was supposed to be the night when the ghosts roamed the earth, but our real celebration was Guy Fawkes Night on 5th November and all our family activities and traditions were all centred around that. The observance of Halloween in our part of Britain only started about ten years ago. I remember taking my eldest daughter (now 15) trick-or-treating for the first time, and having to explain to some of the neighbours that they were supposed to give her a treat, not the other way around.

However, yesterday I learned that observing Halloween by putting candles inside hollowed-out root vegetables and taking children door-to-door asking for treats is a British Isles tradition after all, having originated with the Celts in Ireland and Scotland. Even the name "Halloween" is a Scottish corruption of "All Hallows Ev'n" and for centuries there it has been traditional to carve neeps (turnips), and for children to go "guising" (dressing in disguise and asking for coins) and/or "souling"; visiting homes asking for gifts of fruit in return for prayers for the souls of the dead. It seems that Scottish and Irish immigrants brought the tradition to America, and American TV brought it all the way back to England where it is doing its best to oust Guy Fawkes night as the big festival of the Autumn.

We usually assume that traditions are deeply rooted in history, but in fact it only takes a few short years, or a generation, to start a tradition. Roderic pointed out to me that fish and chips is the British traditional national dish, but potatoes were only introduced to these islands in the sixteenth century. So that tradition is less than 500 years old. And already here, with Halloween still relatively new and unpopular, it seems that homes which are happy to entertain trick-or-treaters are displaying a lighted pumpkin outside, and somehow we all know not to knock on those that don't. I don't remember that from last year. The tradition is already developing.

Sadly, I haven't seen anyone asking for "A penny for the Guy" for years.

Our family has its own traditions. We have fast food every Monday night as part of Family Home Evening. We put up the Christmas tree on the first Sunday in December. We celebrate birthdays by decorating the dining room overnight and putting all the presents on the table. Little things, but like other traditions they can really help make us feel part of something special. A tradition doesn't need to be old to be important, or enjoyable, it just has to be something which we associate with the remembrance of something bigger.

God's Tapestry

This past month has been a blur in our neck of the woods. So many challenging trials are taking place all around me. A couple of those have had quite an impact on my own life.

I've served as the YW president in our ward for nearly 5 years. In that time, I've grown close to the young women that I serve. A month ago, one of my Laurels was involved in a horrible car accident.

My husband and I hurried to the hospital as soon as we learned the news. Samantha was in ER, still unconscious. As I'm also a visiting teacher to Samantha's mother, I spent some time trying to offer comfort as we all prayed that Sam would wake up.

Sam didn't regain consciousness and it was decided that she would be flown by Life-Flight to a hospital in Salt Lake City. However, the weather was nasty that night and fate had other plans. Instead of taking Sam to Salt Lake, the helicopter flew her to the hospital in Idaho Falls, where she has been ever since.

It was a tough few days in the neighborhood. The accident had taken place on a Thursday afternoon. That Sunday she was still in a coma. I had to face a room full of grieving young women and didn't know quite how to handle things. Our Father in heaven did, however. After a heartfelt prayer, an inspired idea popped into my mind. We would make a cassette tape for Sam, one that would contain messages of love from all of the girls and YW leaders.

As we made the tape that Sunday morning, we decided to include a few musical numbers since Sam loves music and she was our main pianist in the YW realm. We saw a tiny miracle take place during YW as tearful frowns turned into hopeful smiles. Making that tape for Samantha was healing for us all.

We were able to get the tape to Sam's family two days later, and it was transferred to the hospital in Idaho Falls. We were later told that Sam had tapped her foot in time to the music as it had been played, and she had moved around in her bed during the messages. Still unconscious, Sam's reaction to the tape gave us hope that she would eventually wake from the coma.

We've seen several miracles with Sam the past few weeks. Prayers have indeed been answered. Despite the brain shearing injury Samantha sustained, she finally woke up, and she is recovering at an amazing rate. She is now in the rehab center of Eastern Idaho Regional Medical Center, making impressive progress each day. You can see daily updates on this link: Sam's Blogsite

Every bone in Samantha's body should have been broken in that accident. Aside from the brain injury, she was fine. That in and of itself is amazing, and a testament to how watched over she really was.

My husband and I stopped in for a quick visit at the hospital in Idaho Falls this past week. It was heartwarming to see Sam's smile, and to hear her call my name. Though she has a ways to go toward a complete recovery, an inner light radiates from her eyes, indicating she is determined to win this battle.

How grateful we are that the Lord is truly at the helm. We have to put our trust in Him, especially when things spiral out of our control. Though life's trials continue, we know that things generally work out for the best. We can't see the entire picture now, but someday it will all make sense.

Along those lines, I will close with a favorite poem that pretty well sums things up:

THE WEAVER
________________________________
Written by B.M. Franklin (1882-1965)

My life is just a weaving
Between my Lord and me.
I cannot choose the colors
He weaves so skillfully.

Sometimes He weaveth sorrow
And I in foolish pride
Forget He sees the upper
And I the underside.

Not ‘til the loom is silent
And the shuttles cease to fly
Will God unroll the canvas
And explain the reasons why-

The dark threads are as needful,
In The Weaver’s skillful hands
As the threads of gold and silver
In the pattern He has planned.