Day Changer

     Today I was once again reminded that life is a lot like the weather in Michigan. If you don't like what is happening, stay calm as things could change for the better at any moment.
     I was having a less than great day. I had allowed myself to become frustrated with small details such as a project at work, a lack of progress with a writing project, and judging my abilities at interacting with others.
     I was to the point of being so frustrated that I was ornery the minute I walked in the door after I ran around town chasing through my errands after work. I am fortunate that my husband was readily available and able to talk me into a cheerier mood within moments. Then a friend of mine shared some great news with me about my storybook from last year. She alerted me to a newsletter that had went out from our publisher, MeeGenius. Among new users of their app my storybook "Green Goo" is currently trending #1.
     Due to my friend and fellow author, Jennifer Young, being so thoughtful and sharing this with me, my mood and outlook instantly improved. I am so grateful that she took a moment out of her hectic day to share these encouraging words with me.
     I want to actively express my gratitude to Jennifer by sharing her storybook with you. She has written a delightful book called "Poison Apple Pie." I encourage you all to buy and read it. It will be a fabulous addition to your virtual book shelf!

This is the link to her storybook:http://bit.ly/V7pXJe

I also want to share a link with you to the newsletter that our Publisher MeeGenius sent out that featured my good news:http://us4.campaign-archive1.com/?u=3981a6e17629792c40af0db32&id=1c583414a0

I am so grateful and amazed at the support I have received in chasing my dreams of being a published author/story teller. Thank you all!

Change by Choice

     Over the years I have been exposed to a lot of on the job training that I am sure was meant to inspire me to be the best possible worker bee that I could be. It often left me feeling discouraged or disappointed. I was always uncomfortable with the catchy slogans that were used that were supposed to help re-frame our mindsets and aid us in thinking as our company wanted us to think about any given situation.
     One of the slogans that always got me down and was a real mainstay at one of my employers was the cheerful, mindless acclimatization that change is good. Well, no, in fact, it is not. Tell the person that just got the diagnosis for the grim disease that may take their life or their child's life that change is good. Tell that to the person that just received the message that their child will not be coming home from their deployment. Tell that to the 83 year old woman that was just widowed because her husband got hit by a truck and they were less then six months shy of their 60th anniversary.
     I always felt that it was such a cop out and trite to try to boil down a complex concept into such a compassion less statement. It always seemed like an insensitive declaration. I always felt I was being cheated when someone would parrot that phrase and I always felt like I was being asked to be less than human by attempting to embrace that three word slogan.
     I think that seizing the opportunity to change yourself, better your circumstances, or to pursue education is good. In fact, I think it is great. However, whenever people were teaching these inspiring change is good classes they were not usually trying to aid employees in any of those pursuits. Usually they were just using this slogan to convince you that it would be great that they had to cut your pay, cut staffing, and increase efficiency goals all at the same time. Change. Is. Good.
     Even if you are making a choice to change your diet and exercise more, that is good-if you are doing it as a preventative option. It is a choice and a good one. But if you are doing this because you suddenly find yourself in ill health, it is not a good thing that you are having to make that change. In this case, change is necessary. I suppose it is good that you are still able to do that, but I still think the use of the slogan would be misplaced.
     I think the new slogan that gets taught should be, "Change by Choice." This, to me, means you have put some thought into your circumstances, realzied you need a change of plan, and are actively acting on that.
     When I was younger I dreamed of being a filmmaker, of working with George Lucas and Steven Spielberg. But I was a shy kid and I didn't have enough money to even apply to USC Film School, so I shelved that dream for a while. I still worked on my writing and went to a university locally. I always figured I would make a great success as a screenwriter some day. But then, I didn't.
     I did have an opportunity to enter a storybook contest. I had written plenty of stories for my friends' children. I just never thought about submitting them anywhere. I was going to be a screenwriter, you know. But then I heard about a contest. I researched it, reviewed materials and ideas I had on hand, and i changed my mind. I made the choice to change my approach to what type of a writer I envisioned myself as. My little storybook managed to earn a digital publishing contract.
     I have a friend that is a writer. He usually writes fantasy or urban fiction. But for some reason he recently made the choice to write a shorty story that was more along the lines of a mythology. I consider it to be one of the best short stories I have read in quite a while. I love his latest story. Several days after reading it, it still lingers at the back of my mind. He made a choice to change his style. I am hoping it works out well for him. His story is in a contest. When you have a few moments, please read Brother Wolf by Matt Rohr. You can vote on the story once a week until the end of January. I am hoping that his story will be illustrated and published as part of his prize for winning. Please follow the link:

http://writemichigan.org/vote.html

     If and when I ever get to lead a training session my new classroom training slogan will definitely be change by choice is good.

Happy New Year: Your Next Chapter Begins

     As I have spent the last few days reflecting on the past, I have pondered about many of the gifts I am most grateful for and why. At the top of my list has been one of the gifts my parents gave me that was just a matter of course, of every day living, but was so very valuable to the foundation of my well being.
     My parents have always been communicators, storytellers, and have spared no details of the good, the bad, the hopeful, or hopeless situations of life. I can remember from a young age being told the story of how they met. For the record-it was at The Shamrock. The funny part about this-that was a local bar hang out in GR in the mid 1960s and if you know my mother-she is practically a teetotaler.
     I know by heart how my dad ended up in the Air Force, his misadventures in basic training, and what he did and where he was stationed. I also know how it was due to being in the service that he was not able to make it home for his father's funeral and just how real the sacrifice is by all those who work to serve and protect the citizens of this country.
     I also know and love the details of my parents' wedding. They were married the day after one of the saddest days in our nation's history-the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. My dad's brother, my beloved Uncle Bob, was my dad's best man. He was also a GR police officer. All officers were on call due to the potential for riots across the country, so my uncle's car was pulled right up by the open windows of the church so he could hear his radio during the ceremony, so I have been told.
     And the most important part of this sharing of the history of our lives as a family through storytelling was the fact that my parents also told me my own story; of how I was born very sickly and prematurely, of how my grandmothers came to visit me at the hospital, how they knew my cry above the cries of all the healthy babies as they could hear me gasping for air from down the hall as I tried to wail in my isolette, and of how I was released too soon to be cared for at home. And all the difficulty that caring for me was in the year that followed. There is a good reason that there is five years between me and my next sibling.
     The importance of this communication is that it taught me how my story intersected with that of my family and community. It instilled in me a sense of belonging and being a valuable part of the communities that intersected with our lives. This helped lay a healthy foundation for me when it became time for me to take responsibility for the telling of my own story and figuring out how my story fits and compliments the stories of all other people that I interact with.
     I am forever grateful that my parents helped me develop this sense of belonging and this desire to tell and learn my own story and learn of and from the stories of everyone I encounter. I am again excited for this turning of the page of the calender, for this calling of the new year and new opportunities to figure out what is next in my story, your story, and our story.
     It is sometimes in the small, every day moments that interesting things happen. I revel in the details of  the small stories. I am already fortunate to have one to add to my collection for the new year.
     As my brother and I were about to leave a party last night, I experienced an amazing moment. Some background: My car is 12 years old. I am hoping that we are in a very long term, committed relationship. As sometimes happens over time, things have been a bit bumpy for us lately. The car has required some up keep and has had some irregular moments as it ages.
      The key fob quit working years ago. A few weeks ago the driver's side lock on the door also quit working. It became necessary for me to first unlock the passenger door, then flip the interior lock, and then walk around and open my door and get in to the car to drive away. This was not a big deal when getting groceries as I generally dump the bags in the front seat, but at work it was awkward to me to have to engage in this routine.
     I managed to get the door lock repaired just before the holiday and was quite pleased with that. At least I was able to use the key on both doors now. I went to insert the key in driver side door lock last night when all of a sudden all the locks were sprung open. I looked to my brother who was grinning rather smugly. I was stunned as I wondered where he had learned this magic.
     It was then he showed me the key and fob. It had been laying by a scattering of books and papers at my parents house earlier in the day on the floor by my mother's chair. He picked it up, saw that it said Ford on it and wondered if it went to my car.
     It did. I had thought I gave a spare to my mother over a decade ago, but she had never been able to find it. And suddenly, yesterday, there it was. It is a small, strange thing. It will bring me a lot of ease and happiness this winter to have it back. Where it has been and how it ended up there on their floor at that moment is hard to say. I just know you never know what may be a key element in the telling of your story. Here is hoping for many interesting moments for storytelling for us all in 2013!

Seasonal Musings-Happy Christmas!

     I am feeling a wee bit overwhelmed. I haven't really fully recovered from the rush of the Thanksgiving holiday and it is time to start gearing up to be festive for the Christmas holiday. Some of this sensation has to do with my ambivalence towards my work situation. I feel paralyzed and incapable of making even simple decisions.
     I managed to move forward quite nicely with my November writing project. It helped to have that focus and to have to answer for my writing time. Now that the program is done, I seem to be done. I have other projects to work on, but have lost focus and motivation.
     I decided to start looking at past projects in the hopes of finding some inspiration. I came across this piece that I entered in a Guideposts contest years ago. I didn't win that contest-but I still thoroughly enjoy this piece. The criteria for the contest was you had to write about the birth of Christ from the point of view of someone that could have actually been there. The little boy I picked came to mind partly because one of my favorite songs is "The Little Drummer Boy." I have always way over identified with the whole concept that I have nothing to bring, give, or lay before the king. I don't even know how to play the drums. But every once in a while I can string a few words together in a way that is meaningful to me and hopefully enjoyable or useful to others.
     I want to share this essay from a few years back with you. Re-reading this helped me calm down for a while this morning and remember and feel my enjoyment from when I wrote this piece. It also helped me feel the peace and contentment that I long for in this season. I hope you enjoy this small story as well. Wishing you all peace, happiness, health, and contentment in this holiday season!

A NIGHT LIKE ANY OTHER?

    James scuffed his sandal on the pebbles as he walked through the rugged pasture lands.  The chill pierced the cloak that he pulled tighter around his small shoulders.  It was winter now in the desert.  The land looked as bedraggled as the small bands of shepherds that tended it and their flocks.  As soon as the sun disappeared over the low hills, the cold overwhelmed everything and everyone.

     James sighed as he walked along.  It was too bad he came from such a poor family.  It was too bad he had not done better studying Torah.  He wanted to be a rabbi.  He loved nothing more than being immersed in God’s words.

     Why did his father have to die that slow strange death?  He had been one of the tallest, strongest, smartest men that James had known.  Slowly his father had lost his strength.  His limbs withered.  His words left him as his voice faded.  He was a small dried up shell when he finally died.   James had been grieved by his mother's constant tears.  He did not complain when he was separated from his brothers.  Some of the boys went to his uncles who were fishermen in Galilee.  One had been sent to Jerusalem to learn the trade of being a shop keeper.  James had wanted to work in another uncle's inn in Bethlehem.  That was where his brother went that he was closest to in age.

     James was so small and quiet that it was decided that he would be best left to tending his Uncle Abraham's smallest sheep.  He liked caring for the sheep.  He didn't mind being up through the long, dark night.  In his mind he recited the many verses he still remembered.  They gave him much comfort during the long, cold nights.  His favorite passages were from Isaiah.  He often repeated to himself these words during his long night watch. 

 Isaiah 40:30 “The poorest of the poor will find pasture, and the needy will lie down in safety.”
Isaiah 54:9-11 “Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken nor my covenant of peace be removed," says the LORD, who has compassion on you.”

   He often prayed to God. That was the only help for the quiet longing in his heart.

     He was not sure what he longed for so urgently.  Was it the comfort of home?  Was it the chatter of his brothers as they ate a meal?  Was it the touch of his mother as she used to brush his hair from his eyes?

     James longed for a change of some kind.  He wanted the world to be different then it was, or to be different himself.  He wanted to not miss his father as much as he did.

            James no longer cared much for the world he encountered when he did make it into Bethlehem for selling of wool or the lambs in the spring.  The town was now a sad, dingy place.  The people were stressed, hurried, unkind.  The beggars and the lepers at the city gates frightened and saddened James.  The screaming and shoving in the market place overwhelmed him.  There were no little children at play in the streets as there had been in his small village back home.  James longed to be at play on those streets, to be the child he had been only a few seasons ago. 

     James found a rock to sit on.  In the distance he could see the small fire on the side of a hill.  Abraham had set up camp.  His cousins and other family members would be seated around the fire and talking.  Joshua would tell stories or maybe sing a song.

     He was feeling sleepy.  James started to hum a little tune to him self.  His eyes grew heavy.  He could barely keep his lids open.  His head gently nodded forward.  If he slept for just a moment it would be alright.  Hopefully nothing would happen to this portion of the flock.

     Suddenly there was a bright flash of light.  James head snapped up and he opened his eyes quickly.  There were bright lights swirling all around.  It was as if the clouds glowed with fire!  And the sound!  It was like thousands of voices singing. The praise and joy shook James entire body.  He jumped from his rock and looked wildly all around. The sheep lay peacefully on the hill staring up at the heavens.  James stood still, gazing upward.

     One loud voice spoke out above the heavenly chorus.  James clearly heard the speech!

     "9 An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. 10 But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. 11 Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ[a] the Lord. 12  This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger."

 13 Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying,

 14"Glory to God in the highest,

      And on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests." Luke 2:9-14 (NIV)

     James heart pounded in his chest.  This was something different.  Yet it was familiar.  It reminded him of passages he loved to study from the prophets.

Isaiah 55:11-13 “You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills will burst into song before you, and all the trees of the field will clap their hands.”

 Maybe this would put an end to his longing.  He raced down the gentle slopes.  The sheep had now fallen into a deep sleep.  He had to get to his uncle Abraham.  Surely Abraham would know what to do.

     James rushed up to the camp.  The others were all talking and gesturing at once.  Some seemed afraid.  Others seemed giddy.  James tugged on his Uncle Abraham's cloak sleeve.

     "Uncle, we should go.  We should find this baby.  Your brother owns an inn.  Maybe he knows where to find this savior."  Some of the men laughed.

     Abraham knelt down to look James in the eye and nodded.  He put his hand on James shoulder as he turned and spoke to the others. "I believe that the boy is right.  I don't think we need to see my brother.  We will just follow the star." 

     Abraham took James by the hand and they walked off in the direction of the star, as it illuminated the stable dwellings cut into the rock outcroppings of the distant hills.

     As they approached the cave over which the star hung, James could see other shepherds there already.  Some knelt at the edge of the gate.  Some had shoved their way into the small stable.  Abraham gently pushed James between the throng of the men as they moved forward. 

     James found himself on his knees right in front of the manger.  The baby he saw wrapped in clothes seemed ordinary.  Yet as he gazed at the child James felt a peace wash over him.  He knew in his heart that this was no ordinary night.  Everything had changed, most of all---James!

    

Much to Be Thankful for-Always!

     I just want to pause from the busyness of this beautiful day and say a heartfelt thank you to everyone that has helped me this past year as I have journeyed through so many experiences. I am grateful for love and support of friends and family, for the well placed words of encouragement of people I have only just met or know only through online writing communities. Each one of you has had a positive impact on my life and enabled me to pursue my dreams of being a published author.

     One way I am able to express my gratitude is by offering free downloads of my storybook, Green Goo. The following link will allow you to get your free copy. Please feel free to share this link with others. I am hoping to give away thousands of copies.

http://www.meegenius.com/store/coupon/redeem/goo/


     Again, thank you all so much for your love, encouragement, prayers, support, and kind words and deeds that have blessed me so. I raise a toast to all of you!

My Entry in the Latest Three Minute Fiction Contest on NPR

     I happened to discover this series contest on NPR in the winder of 2011. I had liked NPR's page on Facebook and so their updates would scroll through my news feed. I saw the contest for three minute fiction, where you had to tell a whole story, following their writing prompts, in 600 words or less. I have entered every round since round six. I have not won or been picked to have my story on display on their website. And yet, being part of this group has changed my life forever.
     It is through this group that I have met a supportive and encouraging community of writers. I have learned so much from so many of them and I am glad to be able to have them as friends and coaches. It is through this group that I heard about the Author Challenge Contest at MeeGenius.com. It is through that contest that I had one of my storybooks published and was able to fulfill a lifelong dream. This aspect of my life journey also re-enforced the point about being ready-by having spent years writing stories that no one ever read, when the chance came to have some read a story-I had dozens that were ready to go.
     This past round of Three Minute Fiction-the author that came up with the prompt was Brad Meltzer. He is also the host of one of my favorite TV shows-Decoded. I was so excited to read the prompt and get to work on my idea. Again, I didn't win or get picked to share my story-but I thoroughly enjoyed the process of researching and telling my tale! I want to share that tale here, with you, as I so enjoyed the whole process and it again reminded my why I love to write. I am so grateful to have had this chance to invigorate my whole process and recapture my joy. The story had to be about a real or imaginary President. I wrote an imaginary tale that featured a real President-with hints towards another real President and several other historical figures. I hope you enjoy my little tale as well!

Kindling

             A fresh breath of spring air washed over the crowd of spectators as petals from the gnarled flowering Dogwoods rained down. President Taylor was already bored. He swatted at the debris that now littered his collar. His mind wandered as the students droned on and on during their end of term speeches.

 He barely remembered the face of the young man he fought alongside back during the War of 1812. The headmaster of this small academy, The Milton Boarding School for Boys, apparently was this fellow soldier’s son; at least that was the story presented in the letter that requested Taylor come say a few words at this commencement day ceremony.

            It was from his sense of duty, toward all that had served under him over the past forty years, that he now found himself mounted on the rickety wooden chair, wishing it was time for the promised luncheon; his own words now long forgotten by all those present, drowned in this sea of wasted words.

            It was then that the boy took his place on the stage by the podium. He began to speak in a torrent of words. His fiery passion gushed over the audience, enthralling them. Taylor glanced at his program, squinting at the name printed there. He snorted as the crowd leaps to its feet, thundering their applause. The young boy flushed with pride. He gave a slight bow and bounded down the steps. Headmaster Smythe gave the closing remark, the sweet words of release.

            President Taylor lumbered off toward the table where the luncheon buffet was set up. Students flocked after him, yet kept a safe distance from “Old Rough and Ready.”  Very few of the boys had ever met a war hero, let alone The President of the United States.

            The boy that had recited the classic speech by Cicero was suddenly at Taylor’s elbow. He seemed to have no sense of his intrusion into the President’s space as he leaned in to speak rather earnestly.

            “I have always been a great admirer of yours, sir. I hope to one day be a great man like you,” said the young orator.

            Taylor looked over the thin figure of the boy that stood before him. Shaking his head, he said, “Being a back woods boy from Louisiana, I don’t know much about theatrics and such. At best, if you are lucky enough you might one day become half the actor your father was, before he soaked his soul in alcohol.”

            And now, this man that had stirred the boy with such feelings of admiration incited the boy with rage. He balled his hands into fists as his friends pulled him away; the anguish evident in every strained muscle of his wiry frame, tears of anger rimming his blazing eyes.

            “One day everyone will know me, you just wait and see. I will be more famous than you ever were,” screamed John Wilkes Booth.

               

Step Away

     Often I feel like I am moments or mere steps away from some sort of success. If I can just stay focused or just keep working or worrying a project, the right break through will come along and everything will fall into place. That is often what is promised in many of the writing and motivation books I read. And since it is in print, it must be true, right?
     I am now finding that it is equally important to step away; from my day to day life, work worries, writing knots, daily dramas, and any other thing that brings me or others down.
     This past weekend I was able to step away for a weekend away. It was a working weekend as I was watching my friend's kids, but they live far out in the country, so for this city loving gal I was very much out of my element.
     There were many beautiful moments, even as rain poured down much of the time. Early one morning, as the hazy mists were lifting, a flock of wild turkeys emerged from the woods, gathering around and on the wood pile.
     I also had the opportunity to see and walk among the glorious fall foliage that I enjoy so much. I even got several great snaps that I gaze at whenever I need to alter the landscape of my soul. Being out and about outside also helped replenish my words, my inner source. I finally was able to start writing again after a drought of several weeks.
     It isn't often that I have been this much at a loss for words so I now have a new found sympathy for anyone that suffers from writer's block or any issue that keeps them from a task they ordinarily love.