MONDAY MUSINGS: THE BANE OF MODERN LIFE

I’ve never been one for resolutions perse, but I do take stock of where I’ve been and where I want to go or things I want to try. I think that’s a natural progression when a new year rolls around.

Many have had to face some nasty stressors this past year and I believe stress is the bane of modern life. One we don’t always consider or learn effective ways to handle. We see the effects on our bodies but healing is more than taking a pill to treat the symptoms and moving on.  It’s a matter of recognizing the underlying causes and finding effective ways to diffuse stress in our lives.

As I take stock this year I realize there was more stress than my mind and body could handle. Stress affects the body more than we realize. Cause and effect isn’t always immediate.

It’s kind of like fighting a battle. You face your opponent(s) and your goal is to keep on your feet and moving forward with as little damage as possible. Survival.

Part of your mind is analyzing body language, moves and counter moves, both yours and theirs. Adrenaline is rushing through your body. You’re aware of body hits but you don’t always feel the full effects until it’s all over.  Once you’re in a safe place and the excess adrenaline slowly abates you become aware of the immediate injuries. There is a certain feeling of euphoria that you’re okay and survived and as that feeling fades away, you become conscious still other injuries.

It’s not just the physical wounds that have to heal. Your mind needs to process and heal as well and that takes time—especially if you’ve had to face a series of battles or traumatic events—with little time in between to recuperate or heal.

It’s important to recognize stress reactions and how to find tools to counter the stress.

The most common stress reactions include:

Slowness of thought Difficulty prioritizing tasks Difficulty initiating routine tasks Preoccupation w/minor issues and familiar tasks

Indecision and lack of concentration Loss of initiative with fatigue Exhaustion

Some tips to help with stress:

 

·        Be Thankful: Keep a gratitude journal. Make a list of all the things and people you’re grateful for. Create a Happiness jar or box. Each day, on a piece of paper, take a moment to write about a good thing that happened. Even the worse days have a good moment. Drop the note in the box or jar. At times of stress take a moment to pull out a ‘memory’ and read it.

 

·        Enjoy the Weather: Sunshine and fresh air is good for you whatever the season. In the winter dark days tend to add to stress. Take advantage of sunshine and stand in the sun and let it warm you. If you work, take your break outside. Even when there isn’t sunshine and it’s cold, still take a few moments to stand outside and breathe in deeply. Focus on what’s going on around you. Does the sun or breeze feel nice? Is it snowing? Raining? How does it smell? What wildlife is there—even cities have birds and squirrels and both fun to watch.

·      

  Find Peace: Modify your environment with music. Meditate, use deep breathing—pull in cleansing breaths and exhale the crap of the day. Pay attention to how your body feels when you do deep breaths. Learn mindfulness skills. Take a walk either solo or with a pet.

·        Practice Positive Thinking: Smile and be able to laugh at yourself. Practice positive self talk or use a journal for positive self talk.

·        Have a Plan: There are some stressors you can’t avoid but you can have a plan on positive ways to handle those stressors. Plan time for yourself and adjust that to your day. It doesn’t have to be a lot of time when you’re working. It’s amazing what 15 minutes spent on nurturing you can do. In the morning or evening give yourself time to do what relaxes you, reading, music, gardening, talking to a friend or just sitting outside in the quiet. Make a plan to get enough sleep. Sleep deprivation is your enemy and it amplifies the effects of stress.

Stress is an unavoidable part of life, but that doesn’t mean you should ignore it. Too much stress can take a toll on your physical and psychological wellness. Don’t get so caught up in the hustle and bustle of life that you forget to take care of your own needs. Nurturing yourself is a necessity, not a luxury.

Happy New Year! I hope yours will be healthy, productive and satisfying.

The Trouble with Blurbs and Pitches

I’ve mentioned that I dusting off my written manuscript files. I’m going over correspondence and blurb and pitches that I’ve put together and getting feedback on what I've done. 

Oy!

I’ve only gotten serious about my creative writing the last few years. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve done a lot of writing in my professional life for articles, seminars, radio, newspapers, and industry styled periodicals--that's work. While I’ve told stories all my life and written down many of them, it’s only been a recent thing for me to consider fulfilling my dream of writing novels and having them published.

I have several friends who are authors and who have been a big encouragement to me. They’ve taken an interest in my writing and try to help me improve. One asked me to give her a brief blurb about one of my stories. I’m thinking, brief? You see, me and brief, we have problems and we’re not exactly close friends. I thought, hey, I can do this. After all, I wrote several 90,000-word books, so how hard can it be? I hunkered down and got to it.

Three days and seven drafts later I gave her what I thought was brief. Ahem, need I say it was in need of a major blood transfusion when I got it back? Then she added the word “concise”, sigh…I thought two pages was concise.

She then gave me a helpful clue; think of the back cover of a book. Two days and twelve drafts later I hand her the blurb. Her response? Sia, just how big do you think a book cover is?

Oh-oh.

The next day and we won’t mention the draft count, I handed it back to her. Good word count, however…then came all this stuff about character goal, motivation, conflict, word choices, and yeah, it was still bleeding to death.

My friend is tough and has pushed me to be the best I can be and not to give up. She also thinks one should always practice pitches—who knows when you might meet an acquiring editor? I have a lot of respect for her. So, you know whom I went to when I was preparing a 50-word pitch for an editor. This time it only took me one day and four drafts—I had been practicing.

I got it back, “close but not quite.”

I growled—hey it impressed my dog. I went for a walk, did the dishes, polished my nails and sat down, determined to get this thing right.

My final draft? “Wow, you got it!” Shock, followed by the wet noodle thing, and then elation.

If an editor does more then just read the blurb/query and the first chapter, and offers me a contract?

I’ll tell you what it feels like to win a lottery.

IWSG: INSTEAD OF THROWING OUT THE COMPUTER FIND A GOOD TOOL

There’s a lot of dust flying in the McKye household.

No, I’m not cleaning, although I’ve done a bit of that, but I have been dusting off some manuscripts. I about choked on some of the dust that accumulated since I last opened them. I’m looking them over to see which are viable and which aren’t.

I’ve written some experimental stories and tried out different genres and POV.  I’ve learn much about what works and what doesn’t in my writing with those experiments.  Alas, I still suck at first person. Okay, maybe not suck at it, but I don’t particularly like writing stories in first person, or reading it for that matter. I know there are writers that adore first person and I’ve read a few stories well enough executed to make me forget it’s in first person. My husband loves to read and write in first person and does a good job. Personally, I prefer third person. Hey, I’m nosy and I want to know what another is thinking and what’s going on out of sight of the main character. I do, however, use first person in working through a problem scene to create a sense of immediacy. I write it in first person and then go back and write it in third.

Why do I do that?

First person narrows the scene, increases the pace, gets rid of excess/unnecessary verbiage, and helps me work out the kinks in a scene or with characters in the scene. When I use first person I focus on tenses such as the moment of speaking or utterance (Yeah, it’s a real term in grammar. Much thanks to my ninth grade teacher, retired army sarge, Mr. MacDonald for those lessons).  Moment of utterance strips the scene to the moment of action and with the use of immediate action verbs. It’s precise and it doesn’t like adverbs. It’s the same with the time of completion—very specific and spare. I actually learned to effectively use those tenses in college and points of view switches when doing observational reports and case studies or for short stories when I’d get stuck. For me, it’s a great tool.

• How do you work on a scene that’s giving you fits?
• What tools do you like to use to make your writing better? 
  
  
  The first Wednesday of every month is officially Insecure Writer’s Support Group day. Post your thoughts on your own blog. Talk about your doubts and the fears you have conquered. Discuss your struggles and triumphs. Offer a word of encouragement for others who are struggling.
  
  Let me take a moment to also wish you all a happy and productive 2015!  

HOLIDAY STORIES: WHITE CHRISTMAS

The month of December has traditionally been a month I've used as a break. I usually don't do much beyond holiday stories. This year it's been a bit different, I've not published my blog on it's regular schedule for several months. I've desperately needed the extra time to just be, healing time in mind and body with no deadlines. This year I've also been working and while it's a blessing to work from home rather than go out to a job, still, it more hours than I've been used to working and it takes its toll. But, my blog should be back on it's normal schedule in January.

I'll be mostly offline today and tomorrow as my office computer will be in the shop getting updated and programs revamped. My poor laptop is down and hopefully we'll have it resurrected soon. 

I thought I'd reprise a Christmas story written by a friend. It's one I really like because it's one about finding faith again. White Christmas, by Simon Garte, tells the story of a soldier at war, raised an atheist and what changed it all for him.

                                          ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was not a white Christmas that year. At least not for him. He was in a land that had never seen snow. Rain, yes - lots of rain. But no snow. In fact it was raining that Christmas morning. He was sitting by himself in the rain. Alone. The camp was almost empty. He had volunteered to stay since he wasn't a Christian.

Not then.

And also Snake eyes had asked him to stay. That weird thing had happened two days earlier, when he had been sitting alone in the rain, just like now. Snake eyes had come up to him and started talking. Snake eyes hated him, so that was already weird.

“Hey man” Snake eyes said.
“Hey.”
“I need a stabber for Christmas.”

He looked up at Snake eyes dark, inscrutable face.
“Me?” He asked.

“Yeah you. Abdul can’t make it and all the other brothers and crackers are going to that thing down river. But I figgered, you bein a atheist or a Jew, or whatever the f-ck you are, maybe you want to do it.”

He thought about it. He had never done this before, never been asked to.
“OK” he said.

Now he was waiting in the rain for Snake eyes. “It’s Christmas” he thought to himself. His father, a committed atheist, refused to have a tree or any decorations in the house. The family had always exchanged presents on New Year’s day. Christmas meant nothing to him.

Nothing good.

An hour later, he and Snake eyes were walking north on the trail. They were soldiers, and there was a war, but they were not fighting. They hadn't been fighting for months. There was no point to it.

When they got to a place that Snake eyes recognized, he pointed into the jungle, and the white boy left the trail. He found himself a position with a good sight of the trail and Snake eyes. He rested the M1 on a branch, and settled down to wait. The rain stopped and then started again. Snake eyes was sitting in the mud of the trail.

The two kids in black pajamas came down the trail smiling and laughing. They were the “enemy”, but had been doing business with the platoon for a long time. One of them carried a large sack, the other an old rifle of some kind. The kid with the rifle went into the jungle on the opposite side of the trail from where the white soldier was crouched, and that left Snake eyes and the kid with the sack standing on the trail. Snake eyes started talking to the kid. They were smiling and laughing. At first. But then the kid started saying something that Snake eyes didn't seem to like. Snake eyes began raising his voice, and the words came through the thick jungle to him sitting with his M1.

“That’s bulls-it, man. That is bulls-it. What the fu-k are you saying?”

The kid answered, but too quietly to be heard. Finally he shook his head, and put down the sack. Snake eyes reached behind him and took out a small stack of bills from his rucksack. The kid took the money and then grabbed the bag and began running.

“Fu-k”, shouted Snake eyes, “shoot the mother.”

He raised the M1 and fired a round which went wild, and then he saw that Snake eyes was down.

“Snake eyes”. He yelled. No response. Except for the rain it was quiet. He scanned the jungle on the opposite side of the trail, and saw nothing, but lay down a lot of fire. Then he ran to the trail. Snake eyes was alive, but there was a hole in his chest and blood was mixing with mud all over.

“Fu-k it man. Its Christmas, I don wanna die on Christmas.”

And then he did.

The white soldier tried carrying the body back, but only got a few yards. He dragged the body into the jungle a couple of feet, and then headed down the trail. His mind was blank. At the camp, he went into his tent and lay down. The chopper had not returned from the party yet, and he still had a couple of hours of solitude left.

The angel appeared as a dark haired, blue eyed young girl of about fifteen. She was dressed in pure white, and she stood in the center of the tent. He knew it was a dream. The angel spoke in a foreign language, but he understood it, as if he were reading the subtitles at a foreign movie. She said this to him,

“Your sufferings will be intense, but the Lord loves you. Never forget this.”

Many decades later, he had forgotten those intense sufferings, but he never forgot the dream of the angel standing in white in his tent on that Christmas day.

His white Christmas.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dr.Simon Garte has published non-fiction and also writes fiction. He's a marvelous storyteller. Simon is a New Yorker currently living on the East Coast. 

MONDAY MUSINGS—WHEN JACK FROST GOES GUERRILLA

This morning my house came under attack from Jack Frost’s guerrilla soldiers with a little help from the Old Man Winter with his north wind. No fanciful painting of frost. These were sprites on steroids. They had out the big gun and pelted ice balls at the house and windows. It was loud enough to wake me up at 4 a.m. wondering what was going on. Even the dog started barking. 

No sunshine and coffee outside this morning. We've got freezing drizzle pellets falling with enough ice accumulation, about an inch and a half, that they closed the schools. Saturday and Sunday it was in the upper 60's and sunny. I had all my windows open to the warm breeze and spent as much time outside soaking up the sunshine as I could. By late Sunday afternoon the wind was rising and the temps dropped over thirty degrees in three hours. Tuesday and Wednesday we'll be back up in the mid 40's and sunshine. This has been a crazy week of weather. But that's Missouri.

How was your Thanksgiving? Mine was nice but smaller than usual. Most of our family Thanksgiving meals have a minimum of thirty-five and some years we've had all my siblings and their families, which is considerably more. Those years we do buffet tables set up in Pop’s finished two-car garage (actually he can get a truck and two cars in there). The garage is right off the kitchen so bringing out the food isn't difficult. We decorate and set the tables up along three sides of the garage and seating in the middle. Most Thanksgivings are mild here so we open one of the garage doors to the sunshine and concrete drive with various lawn chairs set up nearby. Lots of room for the kids to play and the adults to sit and gossip.

This year, it was only one of my brothers and his wife, my niece, Deanna, her husband, and their two little ones with my family. We ate inside since there were only 11 of us. Steve baked the prettiest 24 lb turkey I've seen outside of a magazine. He did up the sides to go with it and I did a pork roast and a complete meal with sides. I enjoyed the cooking of it early morning with music playing and my husband and I talking as we working on everything. He was teasing me about how I had everything cut and lined up for each dish prettier than Rachel Ray. I don’t know about that but you do have to keep all the ingredients separated. J

On the home front, we got a lot done during the warm spell. A dark cloud of ‘oh, no’ came to us on Friday afternoon when realized our twenty year old chest freezer wasn't freezing. Acck! So it was a mad dash to transfer what we could to the bottom freezer on the fridge and a quick run to the store to buy ice bags to pack in the freezer. Found another chest freezer, just a little smaller, on clearance, Yay! They couldn't deliver until Monday, boo. Then with this ice and nasty roads that’s been delayed until tomorrow afternoon.

But hey, all things considered, life is still pretty damn good. J   

So, how are things in your neck of the woods? Any news to share? Good movies seen or books read? C’mon, share the gossip. Laughter of it all will make the day less gray.

Meanwhile, me and my cup of coffee will be sitting here, feet propped up in front of a warm fire and supervising the kid and his fiance put up the tree and lights. It's good being boss, lol!

MAY YOU FIND THE QUIET JOY

Turkey and trimmings

Heart of our family

And Pumpkin pie

Nip of wood smoke in the air

Keeping the traditions    

Smiling faces, hugs and love

Grandma’s house

In the kitchen preparations

Viewing the happy circle around the Table

Invoking memories of those gone but never forgotten

New generation of little ones added

Giving heartfelt thanks for the riches in my life—my family and friends

Giving thanks has always been a time of reflection. Taking stock of the good in my life.  It has never been about money or pricey accouterments. It isn't relegated to one day in the year but it's practiced throughout the year and especially when things seem bad.  That's the time I really look for the positives. Negatives are always easy to find and if I look at only negatives it will rob me of inner peace and contentment. So I refocus my heart and simplify my eye to see the things that really matter.

For me, Thanksgiving is so much more than a feast upon the table. It's a reality check.

I realize I have all the important things like my faith, family and good friends, a job that provides food and place to live, and while I may creak and hurt sometimes I am alive and breathing.

Heartfelt thanksgiving is celebrating the simple things and finding contentment in those riches. Contentment breeds quiet joy. 

May you find the quiet joy.