Writing For Fun, Not Profit

What do you do? I hate that question. What do I do? I sit in front of a computer several hours a day. For about 30 minutes a day, I write fiction. Then for about 15 minutes a day, I format my webpage, upload new files and amended files, then check to make sure all the links work and then update my profile on MWC.

Then I spend anywhere from 1 – 2 hours finding a topic, researching that topic, and writing an essay, then finding a few quotes to highlight what I've written, and finally research the dates for essays that aren't a Monday, Wednesday, or Friday. And some days I just ignore the whole Little Bits of History thing altogether and only write the fiction piece. The rest of my time at the computer, I'm playing games. Important games, like Solitaire, and Find the Pictures.

I'm ahead of the game with the history essays. I'm up to the second week of July already. My plan, and I suppose if I publish a real plan I may be more inclined to actually do something about it … anyway I do have a plan.

The plan is to work on all the essays I need for the year for RGQ and get them ready for publication. And then I will write up the topics that I have researched already, finishing an entire book of essays. I've done this once and the essays can be seen on my website under the history portion. But in all honesty, I think my writing improved as the year progressed. First I wrote only small pieces for RGQ and then tried to flesh them out later. I find this extremely difficult to do.

And then, even when I began writing longer essays for publication, I still find them less than – well, I find them to be crappy. By the middle of the year and certainly by the end of the year, I found my writing style, my voice, my comfort zone, my way to tell the stories that make history the fun and wonderful playground that it truly is.

That means the Little Bits of History, Volume 1 isn't anything I would want published with my name on the cover. I've reworked the essays and think they are better than when I first started, but they certainly aren't up to what I consider my standard today.

Now, I write a four paragraph essay on a topic, find the quotes, edit the whole, and then chop it down to use for RGQ. There are very, very rare times when I send the entire essay in. Maybe all of three times, so far in over two years. Certainly not more than that, and probably only twice. I usually send in a two paragraph piece but there are times when I need three paragraphs to tell the story. I only use three of the 4-5 quotes I've used for my own text.

I have yet to be paid for any writing. I give it away for free. My fiction is free, also at my website and I've written nearly 100 pieces of the serialized work. I read it, my son reads it, and maybe a few other people read it. Maybe. Probably not.

The advantage to this is that if I ever believe that I have an entire novel there, I will simply take down the pages and publish it as a book and no one will have seen the dang thing before. It's there for now, and it's free for now. But eventually, it may cost you to read it. But sometimes that is what makes us think it is worth the time and effort. You get what you pay for. Maybe.

So why keep doing it? Because I can. Frankly, I've read other people's writing. Some of it is wonderful and they are magical story tellers who hold my interest in an iron grip. Page-turners, if you will. And then there are others who write ungrammatical, meandering, vague prose that means nothing. I know I write better than that. I absolutely know that to be true. And so I continue. Because I can. Because it is there. Because.

If you must, please feel free to point out the ungrammatical prose. It might do you some good.

Winning Isn't Everything

I've belonged to MWC for a while now. It seems I joined late in October of last year, so I'm coming up to half a year there. I entered a fiction contest soon after arriving and won, but there were few entries and so…

I was goaded or threatened or something like that into entering into a poetry challenge. I am not a poet. I don't even particularly care for modern poetry with all its free verse and prose with funny line breaks. It isn't anything that I think I can do or wish to do. But to help out a friend who personally asked for a contribution, I entered.

The premise of the contest was to write a poem of praise. It was to be in praise of yourself but if that was too outré, you could write a poem about someone else. I am embarrassed by own self aggrandizing and therefore wrote a poem about someone else.

Paean of Praise

My gene pool swam the ocean from Ireland to the USA.
Speakeasies during Prohibition let the painter feed his family.
Left with four young children after his bride's untimely death.
All this is my past.

Always laughing, telling tall tales, playing the fiddle.
Playing the guitar while his children danced and sang.
Holding his family together against all odds.
All this is my past.

Tall – at least in the eyes of his children.
Daddy and Hero merged as one.
The only parent still able to shelter his precious loves.
All this is my past.

Sunny disposition even in his grief.
Hopeful and trusting in a God who stayed nearby to help.
Vivacious and companionable to friends and family.
All this is my past.

Cuddly as a bear to four lost children.
Protective as a lioness to four lost children.
Entertaining as a monkey to four lost children.
All this is my past.

Motherless children comforted by Mother Nature in disguise.
Timeless sunshine glimpsed in the ever-present smile.
Hidden tears that fall like rain.
All this is my past.

I only met him once when I was but three months old.
This hero, this father, this stubborn son of Ireland.
He has spread his gift of love into every moment of my life.
All this is my grandfather.

There were over a dozen entries. Somehow, I won. I like the feeling of what I wrote. The originator of the challenge had listed what she thought should go into a praise poem and I went topic by topic and wrote the above in less than 30 minutes and typed it up and sent it off.

Now I'm in charge of the next contest. I found out that was the punishment for winning when I won the fiction contest. I'm not sure how else one would go about continually having contests because they are a fair amount of work. You have to solicit (that should read – beg) for entries and then you have to solicit (beg, again) for people to vote. All in all, it creates quite a bit of work. I never in a million years thought that I would win a poetry contest.

What I prefer, over free verse, is the structured rhythm and rhyme of old fashioned poetry. For my contest, I am having people write sonnets. Fourteen lines in a proscribed rhyming pattern set in iambic pentameter. Poetry as Shakespeare meant it to be. You can peek at the entry requirements, if you like.

What Makes a Book "Good"?

I read. A lot. An awful lot. But not as many books so far this year as in years past. You see, I've joined a couple of book clubs and have been forced to read several books that were not of my own choosing. Some of these books have taken far more of my time to read than others.

I usually sit down with a book and in the course of a few days have consumed the thing. However, when it is a book that I'm not particularly fond of, I tend to read sparingly and then set the book aside only to be haunted by it on my next pass through the living room. It mocks me.

The book will sit there looking 'intellectual' or 'scholarly' or some such thing. I want a book that is 'entertaining' and yet I don't mind it being 'instructional' as long as the first point of entertaining is still met.

I read an entire book that mercifully was short. I say mercifully because although I read the entire book, I have no idea what it was that I read. I know it was a series of essays that were concerned with convoluted ways of looking at time. Each new essay or chapter was a new way of seeing time, but they all stemmed from a particular point in time and then strayed off. When I noticed this, I became too concerned with this paradox to do anything more than shake my head in dismay. The book is considered to be well-written. Perhaps it is. In my case, it was not well read. National Bestsellership notwithstanding.

I like books that are delightful to read. They do not have to be fiction. Well written non-fiction is a joy to read, as well. I've read many non-fiction books and enjoyed them immensely. They were entertaining as well as instructional or scholarly.

I've recently read some award winning books that were spectacularly difficult to read. They were not enjoyable. The prose was stilted and difficult to follow. The story line was uninteresting. Or the books were simply not to my liking. I am not the sole judge and jury about what makes a good book. I am the only person who can say whether or not a book that I've read or tried to read is any good for me.

I have no idea what is the standard of measure that is being used to judge a book as meritorious or not. Sometimes it must just be the weight of the Author's name. Perhaps it is simply a 'hot topic' that makes a book a best seller or award winner. I know that some books make the list simply because someone starts talking about them.

I read The Secret before I knew that it was some hot topic book. It didn't make particular sense to me then. I've read some of the books and articles that the first book inspired. It is making it's own little cottage industry. The Da Vinci Code did the same thing. Although I must say, I liked The Da Vinci Code much more than The Secret.

I still don't understand why some book is a best seller and I can barely muddle through it and some books or authors I love never make it past the starting gate. I am going to keep reading the books that are part of the reading groups. But what I've noticed others doing and what I may start myself, is to read only part of the book and then sigh and act too busy and say, "I just didn't have time to read the rest, but I will later." That is so much nicer than saying, "This book was a piece of crap and I couldn’t force myself to finish it. I never will because I only have so much time on Earth and I have already wasted more of it than this book deserves." Now there is a book review.

I used to force myself to read any book I started. But I figured out that it was a stupid plan back when I was in high school. Just because I'm in a book club or two is no reason for me to renege on a perfectly good plan. Here on out, if I don't like a book, I will simply quit reading it. If the people who read the whole thing can make it sound appealing enough during the book discussion, I may pick it back up.

I have a list a mile long of books I want to read. I'm going to stop wasting my time wading through books I don't like.

So, what are you reading?

What Are We Doing?

I am a voracious reader. As soon as I was told about the wonderful code of letters and sounds, I began to read everything in front of me. If there are words in front of my eyes, I'm reading them. Even if I'm not interested. This frequently happens when a cereal box is in front of me while I'm having breakfast. I can't help but read it. Every time.

I not only read currents things, like cereal boxes, but older words as well. Rex Stout (1886-1975) wrote a series of detective fiction stories based on Nero Wolfe and ostensibly recorded by his sidekick, Archie Goodwin. There were 33 novels and 39 short stories about Mr. Wolfe. They were written from 1934 onward.

Wolfe is described as 5'11" tall and weighing "one-seventh of a ton" which is seen as an obscenely large amount. It is 286 pounds.

Even in 1975 nearly 300 pounds was considered quite large. Today – not so much. There are people weighing hundreds of pounds greater than the remarkably obese Nero Wolfe. Not quite topping 300 pounds is almost svelte in today's world. What are we doing? What are we thinking? What have we done to ourselves?

By the year 2003, the last year CDC has in their statistics and handy for me, there was no state in the union with less than 15% of its residents listed as obese. Twelve states were "only" 15-19% obese, four were more than 25% obese, the rest falling in between. This is more than simply sad, it is outrageous.

I could rework this and put it in my own words, but I'm lazy. So a direct copy and paste from CDC: "Over the past 20 years, the proportion of overweight children ages six through 11 has more than doubled and the rate for adolescents ages 12 through 19 has tripled."

Today, parents are all about schools being accountable, the world at large being accountable, everyone taking responsibility for their actions – except themselves and their precious little snowflakes. Okay, large snowflakes. Parents are so busy working to provide for their offspring – Xbox 360 and HDTV are no longer simply extravagances, but absolute necessities. Anyway, it takes so much time and energy to buy them things, that they aren't taking actual care of the kids.

I hear that it takes two incomes to raise a child. Unless it is a divorced woman earning only 70% of men's wages and then it only takes one income. But if there are two parents, by God, they better both be working and exhausted and picking up McDonald's on the way home from another late day at the office. Or maybe just ordering a couple extra large pizzas with everything.

Exercise? Kids need supervision outdoors and so it is easier to just plug in a DVD or a video game and let them vegetate in from of a screen.

Schools had abandoned physical education, but are starting to adopt the programs again because kids don't play outdoors after school. They are in an after school program until the last minute when they are picked up by a frazzled overwrought parent with the sack of McDonald's in the car. By then it is dark and homework has to be done because the schools just expect so much from kids today.

Parents aren't taking any better care of themselves. They are eating the junk food along with the kids. They can barely get through work and routine household tasks without worrying about anything so time consuming as playing a game of catch in the backyard or biking together on the weekend. There is laundry to do and floors to wash and tasks to complete.

How much of that second income that is 'needed' is going to pay for the after school program and the fast food/junk food or already prepared grocery store items? How much is spent on gas for the commute? How much goes to clothing that is workplace appropriate? And to increased tax rates? How much of that second income is actually increased household revenue?

We are selling ourselves and our children so that we can have a super large television set when there is nothing but crap on it. We surrender our health so that we can purchase our children toys that they have no time to play with. We stress ourselves out trying to stuff too much life into each day so that we overeat as a way to ease the stress, which causes more stress as we worry about our weight.

As I walk down the street I see far too many people who make Nero Wolfe look skinny. That's sad.

Critical Irony

I love being part of MWC and there is another site out there administrated through the same venue.

It is a site designed to make me feel better about myself. But I'm not supposed to ever really feel bad about myself, so I am unsure how I can improve.

I read this line on a to do list: Continue to love myself thoroughly, WITHOUT criticism

And I answered it:
I am unsure about loving myself without criticism. I am a work in progress. If I don't permit any criticism to bubble up to the surface, how will I know where to work for improvement? When I feel like I've not done my best, not lived the way I know I might, dropped the ball, lowered the bar, failed ...

When I can identify where there is a weakness, I will know where to work for improvement. If I accept the me today, just as I am, thinking that it is the perfection of myself, then tomorrow I will be no better than I am now. I will simply be a day older.

Rather, if I look at where my life isn't meeting my own or even other people's expectation, I can then determine where best to spend my energy at improving. Tomorrow will come and perhaps I will be better than I was today. If I can accept the critical evaluation and learn from it. And then go on to improve my situation.

Dear me, I was simply wrong.
Wizard said this to me:
Stop being unsure of loving yourself. Right now. Immediately.

Ok, you're a masterpiece "in progress" but suppose you're where you're supposed to be, who you're supposed to be and that you have a great sense of humor.

Who says you have to improve? You could be perfect - as you.

You always did what you could with what you knew at the time. Was it your best? Who knows? It might just be that you search for, dig around and scratch all over trying to find a weakness, shining all your light and energy on it and boom, you'll find a weakness. Do you win if you find more? Hmmmm...

If you accept the you today, you will love yourself more, and make choices based on that love and open all kinds of doors that will stubbornly remain locked if you focus on any perceived imperfections.

You can only live to yourself. There is no one else and there is no spoon. Hee hee.

Really, though, SpChick, love yourself, totally, fully, completely, without reservation or purpose of evasion and all will be well.

Sincerely, wishing you all the best, folderol, etc.
The great and powerful Oz

I replied:
Perhaps we don't share the same definitions for certain words. I'm overwhelmingly in love with myself. I am awe-inpiringly in love with myself. I'm a certified egoist (as opposed to egotist which is cloying self love).

That doesn't mean that I can't notice that I'm impatient with people who drive erratically while on the cell phone, getting all angry in my car and adding to the general bad driving conditions. If I were less impatient, it would be good thing for all. For me, especially.

But without the critique of my own behavior, without any criticism, I might just decide that I need to be even more controlling, rather than less. By loving myself unconditionally but still evaluating my progress through life, I think that I have a better chance of becoming the person I wish to become.

Perhaps it would feel better if I say I evaluate my performance and find places in which improvement would benefit me. But that is just another way to say the same thing as "criticism."

Nope, I'm still wrong.

Sune told me:
When you look at persanal flaws or mistakes or short comings...Do it with LOVE for the Self..as looking at a innocent child..!!
What would Jesus do if he sees the same situation?

Only Forgive for he who has done the mistake..!

Beating or punishing consciously or unconsciously doesn't improve the situation...as we're used to do that!

The false-self..Body/Personality, sees imperfections in itself and in others all the time ....while the Real-self/ spirit just be in peace having nothing to do with anything!!

We think, we are the False-self...and never-ending dilemma of perfection...You better read this book for more understanding Spchick...this is a GREAT book!!
"The Disappearance of the Universe" by Gary Renard

I thought that a bit of irony was in order and responded:
You think it might help me improve?

Irony was totally missed when Sune wrote back:
I certainly do as it did for so many...It will help to see much more clearly in any situation or with any other person!!

Have a go Dear, You'll thank yourself for dong that later!!
cheers

And then again sent a link for this:
Read the topics in Inner child healing..Spchick..while you're here!!

Apparently people who have never met me are able to look at me critically and see where I need improvement, but I must accept myself as I am and not look critically at my behaviors or underlying ideation because I must love myself exactly as I am. But no one else has to do that and I'm simply wrong.

Ah, the irony. I think I will continue with the criticism of my unwanted behaviors and my attempt to correct them without worrying about other people who don't know me telling me how to be a better person.

A Rose by Any Name

So, I started out the day reading Dear Abby. I really started out the day by getting some coffee, but after that …

A while ago someone asked about marrying someone with Multiple Personality Disorder. Today there were a plethora of responses from people who have lived with that issue.

When a small child is severely abused, the sanest thing to do is hide away inside his or her own mind. That is where there is safety. Other personalities take the heat of the abuse. That second personality may also wish to escape, leaving a third to suffer the consequences.

The issue isn't just the multiple personalities, but the underlying abuse as well. Years ago this was simply called Multiple Personality Disorder, a brilliantly descriptive name. Today, it is called Dissociative Identity Disorder or DID. Unless you are some nutcase and then you call it Multiple Personality Gift or MPG – because the child escaped the devastating abuse by a perfectly wonderful method – a gift.

What?

Shakespeare said, through Juliet:
"What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet."

What in God's name are we doing to the English language. There are more than a half million words in it, more than five times the number Shakespeare himself had to work with. We should be able to make things abundantly clear. Instead, we try to obfuscate at every turn.

Garbage men are now Sanitation Workers. I was a secretary with the lofty name of Administrative Assistant, but the wages of a secretary. In order to not have 'men' in any title, we have the perfectly lovely term Chairperson. We were playing a game that asked for actors and had to argue over whether or not girl people could be included. While the Oscars have both Best Actor and Best Actress, when listed as occupation 'actor' covers everyone regardless of gender.

I can deal with Fire Fighters and Police Officers as a way to make women feel better about getting less pay for the same job. We have the language with us so why worry about that esoteric thing – wages. Instead of getting equality in the job market, we have silly job titles without any substance. Men are afflicted with this same puffed up verbiage but they have the paycheck, so why worry.

Everybody knew what Lou Gehrig's Disease was. I could look up to see what the letters ALS stand for, but it really stands for Lou Gehrig's Disease. We do this frequently. It's like everyone is afraid of what they are saying. It might be offensive. The PC crowd might get all in a snit. So let's say the same thing in a new way.

A Sanitation Worker is still picking up my garbage and putting it into a truck and has the highest percentage of on-the-job injuries. But at least the title is better. It's still outside work in the freezing cold or sweltering heat. And in that heat the garbage still stinks to high heaven. None of the unappealing aspects of the job were erased with the name change. But is sounds nice.

No wonder we have so many words in the English language today. We need them to hide behind lest we actually put forth a thought or idea which might offend someone somewhere. Of course, any thought or idea will offend someone somewhere which is probably why there are so many horrible thoughts running around in their fine language lurking about, trying not to get PC corrected.