tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33715547649109872862024-03-05T06:16:20.385-08:00Jo Taylor - Characteristically SpeakingHelp! I'm talking and I can't shut up!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134723966971922384noreply@blogger.comBlogger115125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371554764910987286.post-68925215026875942962016-04-15T09:15:00.001-07:002016-04-15T09:15:42.024-07:00Short Story Publication - KarlYay! Another Short Story published!<br />
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Karl is the name of the piece and it can be found in the April 2016 edition of <a href="http://frontporchrvw.com/issue/april-2016/article/karl" target="_blank">Front Porch Review</a><br />
which is an online magazine. I'm so thankful to Glen Phillips, the publisher, for choosing Karl.<br />
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Hope you enjoy it! In order to write this piece, I had to do multiple research trips to Jamaica. Darn. Writing is fun.<br />
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Peace,<br />
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Jo TaylorAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134723966971922384noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371554764910987286.post-44885435975398016332016-03-26T10:27:00.003-07:002016-03-26T10:27:40.658-07:00We've Moved Again and Life is GoodI try to not put a whole lot of personal stuff in my blog. My personal opinions, sure, but our activities and such, unless they are writing related, are probably not that fascinating. We live, just like everyone else.<br />
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BUT - we have moved again and this is an easy way to let folks know. We are now in Santa Barbara city. We were previously in Montecito. I like to know where people are in general. Don't need to know their address exactly, but for some reason, I do like to follow what town friends and family live in and, to a lesser degree, where they have traveled. There are some people in this world that I am happy to know they are simply present, however far away.<br />
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A hundred years ago, this was not terribly difficult. Most of the people you knew lived in the same town. Today? Totally different story. My grandma used to make me write to all my friends and family when I would visit her here in Santa Barbara in the summer. Not so hard when I was 12. Now that I am over 50, I've met and know literally hundreds of people. Maybe thousands. No, probably just hundreds. I can never communicate with them all individually.<br />
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So, the blog will have to do some double duty, like an all-year Christmas letter. I asked and the blog said it was okay. (Yes, it is a sentient being that has a will of its own. It's told me to pay attention to it and write sometimes. You know -- like call your mother.)<br />
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The "We've Moved Again" part of the title is complete and now we move on to the "Life is Good" section. I hope for those of you for whom (who? sorry - too lazy to look it up) life is not so good, to please use my words as encouragement and not bragging.<br />
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Life is Good - I've discovered that the reason for life is to learn something (anything), and have fun. That's it. We are all really making it way too complicated. I'm lucky yes, but I've also made decisions that have simplified my life and allowed me to then - tah dah! - live simply.<br />
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I'm not espousing a particular dogma or method, but much of the craziness and drama we experience is due to ever so complicated lives.<br />
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Try getting rid of things you do not need.<br />
Do not let people who make you feel bad continue to do so.<br />
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Things and People. Everything we do in daily life (I'm not talking experiences here, like vacations) can be put into one of those categories.<br />
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Work? People (usually)<br />
House? Things<br />
Family? People (usually)<br />
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I don't know what happened to me to disavow the way of life I worked so hard to achieve for many years. I was never seriously depressed, never had anything life shattering happen. It just evolved. At work, I couldn't do the things that corporate medicine wanted me to do anymore, so I stopped doing it. My house started to feel like it was taking something from me, instead of giving me shelter, so I got rid of that too. My family rocks - totally don't need to ditch them. Again, lucky.<br />
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For those of you who think you cannot change things, ask yourself if it is really true. Really true. Think about it. Sometimes it's not true, it's that you are afraid. And that's okay. But do you really want to get to the end of your life and realize you lived in fear? I don't. I was brave once. And that's all I really need to know - that I was brave once and I could be brave again if I need to be.<br />
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That's why Life is Good.<br />
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Peace,<br />
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JoAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134723966971922384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371554764910987286.post-70404915517093029872015-11-28T14:56:00.002-08:002016-03-26T09:45:31.313-07:00Writing Tools - That Anyone Can UseWriting Tools - That Anyone Can Use<br />
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<a href="https://www.literatureandlatte.com/trial.php" target="_blank">Scrivener</a> - $40<br />
<a href="https://www.literatureandlatte.com/trial.php?displayMode=scapple" target="_blank">Scapple</a> - $15<br />
<a href="http://www.scribblecode.com/" target="_blank">Aeon Timeline</a> - $40<br />
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If you do a lot of writing, whether creatively, for a blog, for work, or for school, may I recommend purchasing the three programs listed above, all of which have free trial periods. I get no benefit from my recommendation. I do get the satisfaction that I may save you hundreds, no thousands, of hours in your life. They are that good. And totally worth the money.<br />
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Scrivener is produced by a company called Literature and Latte. The reason I say that anyone can use this is it has different modes for different types of writing - even academic. You have to use Chicago Style for your paper? It's in there. MLA? Yes. Novel format, Non-fiction, Blogging? All in there.<br />
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It takes a little while to learn all that the program can do, but there are You Tube videos that help with the learning curve.<br />
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I discovered just this morning another program that Literature and Latte produces. I was searching for a mind mapping program to help with my complex plot. Scapple is the name and mapping is it's game. It allows you to put all kinds of notes, color coded if you want, onto one big page that you can then move and draw lines between and otherwise have your way with them. It's very helpful for making sure your story lines intersect correctly and you don't have great big holes in the plot.<br />
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I can see this being useful for students who are trying to come up with ideas for a paper, writers mapping out plot and time lines, and event planners who need to have certain components come together at the right times.<br />
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As an example, here is this morning's play time with it so far:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje-tCof7UTPe5EHUT3yZBKBv6XdjDkQuzj_ekfPQNruV8upM8Iz0YDfY_GcCAX2jH2dYEH20R9penR5vsxkrwmq41f6ZwBr560s6wYJKuWVj62Vwo5xWVMQS0XM6VR4suzeSJLOc-_eUj9/s1600/Screen+Shot+2015-11-28+at+10.20.13+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="376" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje-tCof7UTPe5EHUT3yZBKBv6XdjDkQuzj_ekfPQNruV8upM8Iz0YDfY_GcCAX2jH2dYEH20R9penR5vsxkrwmq41f6ZwBr560s6wYJKuWVj62Vwo5xWVMQS0XM6VR4suzeSJLOc-_eUj9/s640/Screen+Shot+2015-11-28+at+10.20.13+AM.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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There are notes and colors and moving them around is as simple as dragging them to where they are supposed to be. This was about 15 minutes worth of work and as you can see, quite easy to figure out. If I can do it, YOU can do it.</div>
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The third program is Aeon Timeline, a nifty way to put anything on a timeline - such as letters written from 1921 to 1951, so that you can track when they were written, by whom, and what other world events or personal events were going on at the time. This one is probably most helpful for writers who have time boundaries that their story follows. I would have loved using it for my school work many years ago. </div>
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I get excited when I find something that makes life easier, like the robot who sweeps my floors so I don't have to. Indirect help, but nonetheless useful. I also get excited when others share a tool, a technique, or a product that helps me in my word production. The above list is meant as that, an attempt to share something useful for those of us who write, or for anyone who puts words on a page for any reason. Check 'em out.</div>
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Peace,</div>
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Jo</div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134723966971922384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371554764910987286.post-26035039726516569442015-11-27T17:46:00.000-08:002015-11-27T17:46:07.995-08:00Write Every DaySo I think I've figured out something about being a writer. You have to write. Every day. It's a job. OK, it's also pretty fun for me too, but it is entirely dependent on actually producing words. Lots of them.<br />
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November is National Novel Writing Month and I have been steadily producing words for 27 days in a row. They say (not really sure who "they" are) that it takes 21 days to create a habit. Since you probably should write every day if you are a writer (with a few days off here and there for good behavior) by my calculations, I should be habit - hardened.<br />
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If only it really worked that way. This morning I sat and stared at my current project, a historical fiction, a love story set during WWII (NOT a romance, I am not a romance novelist - it's a love story - there is a difference). No words could be added. Not that it's perfect, not by a long shot. It still has to be revised about 50 times before I even think about trying to shop it out. I just had nothing to say on the topic. Sometimes you get a little burned out.<br />
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I know a lot about getting burned out. I was an ER nurse for a long time and I felt it. I was pretty good at hiding it, but I used to get mad at those who didn't, or couldn't, and one day I actually listened to myself say, "If you don't want to be here, go somewhere else." I didn't want to be there any more. I had nothing left to give anyone else. So, I left.<br />
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Burn out for writing is nothing like burn out for nursing and I'm not really comparing the two. But both of them are a whole lot of staring and waiting for something to change. Sometimes water falls out of your eyes. But with writing, I've found that if I just work on a different project, the words come more easily and I still feel like I'm working towards a completed project, even if it's not the one I'm supposed to be working on.<br />
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For NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) the challenge is to write a complete novel of 50,000 words (this equates to about 150 to 200 paperback pages) in one month. Just because you wrote 50,000 words does not mean you are done, it means you wrote 50,000 words. Still an accomplishment. I've done it 4 times now and have 4 novels, none of which I've finished.<br />
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But this year is different. This year, I decided that if I was going to write, it would be a full time job and I would write, every day. I failed. But - I have so far succeeded in November. That's why some of these crazy participation events are worth while, even if others don't see the value in it. I made progress on a goal. And I will finish this novel in the coming year, then start all over again in November.<br />
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Peace,<br />
Jo<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134723966971922384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371554764910987286.post-64987492753610712392015-07-10T17:53:00.002-07:002015-07-10T18:44:56.330-07:00Becoming a MinimalistI've become a minimalist in a big way in the last few months. We sold our big house and moved into a 500 sq ft cottage near the beach. None of my furniture (except the Queen size bed in Jake's room) fit, so we moved it, and stuff, and sold all of our other stuff and bought a couch. That's all I need. A bed, a couch, some stuff. Oh and a desk. That's all I need. A bed, a couch, some stuff, a desk. Oh and a lamp. That's all I need.<br />
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I feel like I have purged to the nth degree and now, I feel like I still have a lot of stuff. How does that happen?<br />
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I like the new place. We found this great rental (buying here would be above our means and we intend to always live below our means), it's a block from the beach, built in the 20's with hardwood floors, a great yard and an excellent vibe. I'm going to local shops, organizing the house, organizing my computer and generally settling in. It's weird to move again after 9 years. 9 years. That's the longest I've lived anywhere. Jake grew up in that house. It was perfect for that time in our lives, but I am ready to let it go and move on.<br />
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When I had to deal with all my Dad's stuff and then 6 months later, all the stuff that belonged to Jeannie, that experience set the tone for being done with managing stuff. I would rather have experiences and time with other people, and of course time to write. Not that I consider anyone else having stuff to be wrong - I just don't want it anymore.<br />
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My friend Paula told me about the web site <a href="http://theminimalists.com/">theminimalists.com</a> and their message resonated with me on many levels. Kevin and I started having talks about being frustrated by having too much stuff. Having a big house makes it easy to have more stuff because it doesn't look cluttered. There were cabinets and space for everything. Some of those conversations led to talks of downsizing by selling the house, then to consciously getting rid of anything we didn't LOVE or NEED.<br />
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One of the novels I'm working on deals with our attachments to things and how it gets in the way of human relationships. My Dad was for sure a pack rat and Jeannie was as well. It took me over 2 years to completely dispose of their belongings and many of you have the same issues in your families. But aside from shows on TV like Hoarders that show the worst of these cases, we don't talk about it in polite society.<br />
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I just don't want my kid to have to deal with that in 20 years or so. Wait, let's make that 30 years. And - I'm happier with less stuff. I'm happy. That's what it's all about.<br />
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I wouldn't say I'm a hard core Minimalist yet and maybe I will never be, but I certainly like being able to sit in the yard, write a blog post on my computer, drink a beer and not have to do some house related project or work to earn money to spend on stuff. I recommend it. Becoming a Minimalist that is.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134723966971922384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371554764910987286.post-72015810842934127222015-03-22T18:39:00.000-07:002015-03-22T18:39:33.008-07:00LuckSo I've had a bit of luck this month with getting acceptances for publication. What really worked was that I actually sent stuff out. Most people know that novels get published by publishing companies, and are then for sale. You make money from publishing novels. I haven't done that yet.<br />
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What most people don't know, and I certainly didn't until I started doing it, is that there are literally THOUSANDS of online publications that publish short stories and poetry. You could read for free for the rest of your life!<br />
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Supposedly, the short story is making a comeback in a big way. People don't want to devote days and weeks to the same story (aw, that's kind of sad). If they would rather read something short, they don't have to skimp on quality. Sure, some of the bigger names like Glimmer Train and Tin House cost money, but I'm not kidding when I say there is something for everyone and most of it is free on the Internet. Oh joy!<br />
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When published work is free to read, that usually means the author didn't get paid anything. They simply got the joy of seeing their name in print (a profound and somewhat pretentious joy, but joy nonetheless). Due to my increasing name-in-print success, I've added a link list to the right of where you are currently reading. Some of them are accepted but not yet published and I will, of course, update those when they are published. Others are just a click away. I think this will be an easy place to steer people who are curious about what I am doing all the time.<br />
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I didn't send anything out for about five years after I started writing and even now, when something's gotten accepted I'll read it again and find a fault that makes me want to call the publisher and say, "Wait, I need to fix something!" My advice to myself and other writers is NEVER DO THIS. Just let it go. You will someday prove (to whoever gives a damn) that you can writer better. More better. Whatever. Really, I should just stop reading my stuff again after it's accepted. I think I understand why some singers can't listen to themselves on tape and why some actors can't watch their performances. We know the flaws, and now it's there FOREVER.<br />
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Bah ha ha. Forever. I wish.<br />
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But it is fun, seeing your name up there in lights. I mean on the screen in small font. I set a goal when I started writing in February of 2009 to be published. I realize now that it was a vague goal. So now, when I send out Short Stories and Poems, I make myself send to publications that accept a lower percentage of submissions than the last acceptance. I will slowly make my way to the more prestigious written word. That sounds totally snobby, but I only mean it as a challenge to myself. And if I put it here in black and white, it's easier to not let myself off the hook after 20 rejections in a row.<br />
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Writing is the easy and fun part (who am I kidding - it's hard work). Sending out work for someone to accept or reject is scary. I don't have to do this. I have nothing to prove. But I think there is value in continuing to set high standards and strive to accomplish goals, particularly when you don't have to. I'm lazy by nature and I could see myself living the slug life (it's like the thug life only slower), but something deep bubbles up to the surface of a long ago desire to be heard, to have something to say, to leave the next generation with something of import. I'll give it a try. You should too.<br />
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Peace,<br />
<br />
Jo<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134723966971922384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371554764910987286.post-16782175906027428822015-02-19T17:02:00.000-08:002015-02-19T17:04:22.196-08:00How Can It Be 2015 Already?When Back to the Future came out oh so long ago, Marty McFly was forwarded to the year 2015. October 21, 2015 to be exact. Seemed like soooo long away, and now, we are in it. Huh.<br />
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It's not that I'm just now having that realization in the middle of February, but I haven't felt like saying much of late (no, I'm not sick) and now I do have something to say. Huh.<br />
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2015 holds all kinds of significance for me. I'll be 50 years old. My son will graduate from High School and start College. My husband got a new great job in Montecito and to there we are moving when Jake graduates. Kevin's already moved and we've been readying the house to sell and generally being more slovenly than we would be if Dad were home all the time. Sorry honey, it's the truth. We are not as neat as you.<br />
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I loved being by myself for about 8 days and then I was over it. I miss my husband and I don't really care for FaceTime as the only source of contact. But if that's the worst thing this year has in store for me, I'll take it.<br />
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I imagined 2015 in my younger days as this far off horizon where I would be wise, have enough money, be living in a house where I'd been for years, married to a great guy, with one kid. That's about as far as I got when I was 20 (Back to the Future was released in 1985 - I was 20).<br />
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The real 2015 shows me that I'm kind of wise, at least about some things. I have enough money. A house will never be a place I stay - I'm a Nomad of the Nomad Generation (read <u>Generations </u>by Strauss and Howe). I'm married to a great guy and I have one kid. Huh.<br />
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Every time I look at Jake, he looks more and more like a grown-up. I don't notice time passing so much because I do see him everyday, but if I see someone else's kid that I haven't seen in a while, THAT's when I see the years speed by.<br />
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Why do we have this bias? To not notice time passing all around us until something happens to bring it into stark relief? Is everyone like this, or is it just me? I used to be annoyed when all the older people around me would constantly talk about how fast time passed. I never noticed it. I told my Grandma one day that it passed faster for her because it was a smaller percentage of her life. At 70, a year is 1/70th of your life. At 6, it's a much larger thing (yes, 1/6th, I can hear you all, you know). My point being that as you collect time, it does seem to speed up. I guess I was wise back then too.<br />
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The fourth dimension. Time. Such a weird construct. Can we really go Back to the Future? Maybe. Maybe time is just a human construct so that we can make sense of the world and it doesn't really exist at all, so it doesn't have to follow our rules.<br />
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My prediction: In 30 more years, in 2045, I'll be a bit more wise (even if I'm dead - I'll surely be more wise then), I'll have enough money, I'll not be living in a house I've been in for years, I'll be married to a great guy (hopefully the same one - love you honey :)), and I'll have one kid. America will be bigger, faster, stronger and time will not follow the rules. Huh.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134723966971922384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371554764910987286.post-55969929521185621912014-07-06T09:40:00.000-07:002014-07-06T09:40:08.117-07:00Published!A few posts back I said I would be okay if I never got published - but I lied. I really, really wanted one of my stories in print and today it happened!<br />
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<a href="http://roseredreview.org/2014-summer/">Rose Red Review</a> <a href="http://roseredreview.org/2014-summer-jo-taylor/">Path Before Giants</a><br />
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Rose Red Review is an online literary journal and has accepted my short story "Path Before Giants" for publication. I am thrilled to say it feels wonderful. I wrote this 5 years ago and have revised it completely 3 or 4 times since the original write. I got input on it and changed it, then decided to change it some more, then changed it back, then let it sit for a long, long time.<br />
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Writing takes a long, long time. Those authors who are able to just churn out good stuff day after day (not crap, anyone can write crap day after day) are freaks of nature. I have a few good sentences a week and have to go back and clean the stall of all the piles of crap that end up among small shiny bits of good stuff. To me, it is incredibly worth it to have put all that effort in to a published work. My sweat is all over that thing.<br />
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And - not every one will like it! That's the crap shoot (why does crap keep popping up?) of writing - different tastes dictate that even great writing such as Shakespeare is not universally loved. THIS is what I am okay with - really. I am a picky, picky reader so I understand the luck part of writing. You have to find something of good enough quality to print, then hope that whoever reads it likes it.<br />
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I love me some statistics and I thought I would make a comparison to illustrate. Red Rose Review is online only, published 4 times a year and accepts 22% of the submissions it receives for publication. More selective publications like Glimmer Train accept 0.22%.<br />
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I've recently been college shopping with my son and the statistics for acceptance struck me as being somewhat similar - and more well known. For example, Stanford accepts 6% and Cal Poly (SLO) accepts 37%. Stanford is harder to get in to, but Cal Poly isn't a cake walk. (Oh yea! Let's switch to cake - much better than crap). Thus the similarities to publishing. Rose Red Review is not the hardest publication to get into, but it is still merit based. It is an incredible amount of work and reading for the two ladies who collect and publish the journal. I admire this effort and am so happy to be included.<br />
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My thanks to the editor, Larissa Nash, for giving me the chance to put my words out and please give her publication a read.<br />
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Thanks to all of you who have read and critiqued, read and enjoyed, read and disliked, but loved me enough to tell me it was good. I need all of these things and you all rock!<br />
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Peace,<br />
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JoAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134723966971922384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371554764910987286.post-7429355911411371682014-04-23T17:23:00.000-07:002014-04-23T17:23:58.648-07:00Living VicariouslyNursing let me live vicariously through patients in that I experienced many things in life with them that I luckily didn't have to experience myself. Characters let me do that too. And I haven't even scratched the surface of that whole crazy town.<br />
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The ability to Vine and Instagram and Twitter and get news at any time of the day leaves little time for introspection. We are constatly entertained. And fewer people are reading. Maybe I'm just writing for myself. Whatever the case, crafting a story makes me think of things in a different way, from the character's point of view and in situations I've never encountered. It's kind of fun - you should try it.<br />
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Writers also do weird things for writing reasons that no one else needs to do. My inner editor, the critical voice that never shuts up needs to be silenced sometimes so that I can go off on a tangent and maybe discover something fabulous. Or write a bunch of crap. Either way, creativity is stifled if you are always editing yourself. I had lots of trouble with this. My writing sounded . . . constipated (for lack of a better way to say it - anal retentive maybe?) Those of you who know me are completely unsurprised by this but you might like the way I handled it. Maybe you can even use something like this yourself if you are trying to create something, anything, and your critical voice gets in the way.<br />
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I took a small paper mache dress form (all of 1.99 at Michaels) and I did the old decoupage thing to dress her up. I am not an artist in the drawing sense of the word but I can do scissors and glue. Anyway, by the time she was done, blue skirt, red top, pearls, I named her Caliope and she was my inner editor come to life - sort of.<br />
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The reason I made her was so that I had a tangible thing to identify as being in my way. Telling one part of your brain to hush does not always work, so Caliope gives me the visual reminder that I am either creating (right side of the desk) or editing (left side of the desk). I had her at work on that desk for a long time to remind me that I used to write and now she's back in action.<br />
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I've found it helpful. I can more often just write something completely crazy without hearing "you can't say that," or "nope, someone will identify that asshat." Having the inner editor outside of me, standing on my desk at the ready, is the best tool I've come up with so far to assist my vicarious living. Where shall we go?<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134723966971922384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371554764910987286.post-20623338035570473512014-04-13T20:12:00.000-07:002014-04-13T20:12:07.213-07:00Character, Or Who Are You Really?Character is the original reason I started this blog. I was writing a character that was younger than me (oh, by about 35 years) and I was having trouble with her "voice" - the way she talked and what she said. But also I needed to develop who she was. What were her vices and ethics, what color was the lens through which she saw the world?<br />
<br />
Margaret is kind of, sort of, me, with a completely different life. That's the fun of writing. I like to think that I have good character - whatever that is - but it doesn't allow the protagonist to learn anything if you start them out with good character. What is this "good" we ascribe to people (even fictional people) and what is this "bad?" Ah, that is the craft of writing.<br />
<br />
In real life, we don't meet one dimensional people - good or bad. I'm loving House of Cards because the writing shows both. Bad people who occasionally do good things - or do they have an ulterior motive and it's not really a good thing at all? Fabulous writing.<br />
<br />
For most of my life, I've been kind of the goody two shoes. Oh, I've screwed up royally at times, but I'm certainly not the alcoholic, depressed genius some famous writers have been. Maybe the genius part. Does that condemn me to mediocrity? I think I can use the bad times in my life to dredge up stories of pain and loss. I really don't want to only write about pain and loss. It is the tendency now in the literary journals and the MFA (Master of Fine Arts) programs to spill your guts and let everyone walk all over them.<br />
<br />
I can do it, but I think so many people have been doing it that it's just not interesting anymore. Reality TV. Trainwreck central. Enough said. I would rather write stories that show the good in people. To show when the character learns a lesson through hard work and that lesson isn't that the world will rip off your head and shit down your neck. Sorry, had a reality moment there.<br />
<br />
My latest story that is currently sent out to a few publishers is a quiet, meditative piece on how the things that happen in your life don't necessarily steer your life. You can be better than your trauma. I recently got a very nice rejection letter that said in part "Over all the story was very quiet in nature, and honestly I prefer those types of stories. I think the market for the quiet, reflective pieces is pretty small. Good luck, I think this piece is publishable, you just have to look for a good match."<br />
<br />
Hmmm. Yes, you must know your audience - in any business. Yes, I understand that the trend is toward in-your-face action and drama. Do I want to change what I write so that I can be published, or do I want to write what I want to write? I haven't decided yet.<br />
<br />
And that decision is indicative of character. Not the outcome of the decision, but how I come to the decision and that I write for the right reasons. I may never get published. I'm okay with that. In the years I've been writing, my motivation has changed from recognition to producing the best art for art's sake. Does that component of my character make me better? Decidedly no. But people struggle with those types of questions - one's in which there is no right answer - and I fear our society and the technology of today inhibits people from figuring things out from the basis of who they are.<br />
<br />
I would like to write about people who know who they are. Or who find out through good and not torture. Not who did what to whom, but why they did those things and what they learned from them: Characters being true to themselves and righting the ship when they've gone off course. I don't know how far it will get me, but it will be in character.<br />
<br />
Peace,<br />
<br />
Jo<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134723966971922384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371554764910987286.post-79489984575115262052014-04-07T17:53:00.000-07:002015-03-14T20:36:23.299-07:00Order of LifeGod, self, family, friends, work.<br />
<br />
The order of life has gotten jumbled for me on many occasions but I find the simple list most helpful in keeping things from listing to port and ultimately sinking the ship. That would be bad.<br />
<br />
In the last few years, the only thing that has changed is WORK, but it changed so dramatically that it threatened to literally drag me down - suffocate me with demands that I could never live up to.<br />
<br />
I wanted to be good at it and to make a difference. I think I was good at it but sometimes the difference you attempt to make is not the one that is appreciated, or needed, or right for the particular situation.<br />
<br />
I can't do the things I know how to do any differently, so I chose to stop doing it. Work that is.<br />
<br />
I'm not completely unemployed. I do chart reviews from my home office and I can listed to music and have a beer if I want (just one though) while working - try THAT at the hospital. You would soon be not-working too.<br />
<br />
The fabulous side effect of stopping working is that I have time to write again. Hallelujah! Time to dust off the two novels and get them revised and rewritten and send-out-able. It's gonna take a while. Time away from writing can give you fresh perspective and renewed energy, or it can make you rusty and sophomoric until you find your voice again.<br />
<br />
Bets? I bet I am rusty. But I will plow through word after word, page after page if that's what it takes to get the edge back. I've recently been told that I am not a good communicator. Ouch. Those are harsh words for a writer. I don't necessarily agree with that person though. I think I'm a great communicator. So there.<br />
<br />
As you can read for yourself, I have some work to do on my persuasive arguments.<br />
<br />
For those who know me personally, I am happy and ready for whatever life throws at me now. It's been a long few years and time with my family is something I will not put behind other demands. God, self, family, friends, work. They will stay in that order from now on. Or at least more closely in that order than I have been able to keep them.<br />
<br />
<br />
Peace,<br />
<br />
Jo<br />
<br />
<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134723966971922384noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371554764910987286.post-55151306766953113222014-04-05T18:34:00.000-07:002014-04-05T18:34:51.215-07:00Goodnight Daddy"Goodnight Daddy."<br />
<br />
How many of you remember the last words you've said to someone? In a life filled with words, sometimes the simplest ones get forgotten.<br />
<br />
My father died in the early morning hours of January 20, 2013. I left him with these last words and he left me with a little empty space.<br />
<br />
Goodnight Daddy.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
That's partly the reason why my last post was January 1, 2013. Other reasons include a way busy life and hellacious busy job but both of those things calmed down when I quit my job in October. It's April and I'm just now starting to write again.<br />
<br />
I think I was recovering from death and overwork. Or maybe I was just being lazy. I haven't been lazy too many times in my life, so even if it was that . . . so be it.<br />
<br />
The first step in starting to write again was actually putting my butt in the chair and producing something. Caca at first. Luckily, writing is like riding a bike and most of the important skills came back quickly.<br />
<br />
The terrifying part is the place I stopped was the dreaded revision stage. I have tons of stuff written and starting something new is joyous. But oh, that fixing of things so that someone can read and enjoy is not the easiest component of writing for me.<br />
<br />
Now I need to practice writing and revision every day. Just like a job. Because it actually is work.<br />
<br />
"Just do it." Nike is pretty smart. There really isn't any other way to get it done.<br />
<br />
Step two was telling people I was writing again. There's no going back after that and this post serves the purpose in publicly committing to being a writer again.<br />
<br />
Life is good and I am so blessed to be able to work part time from home (actually, I work when I feel like it which is about 60 hours a month instead of 60 hours per week - bonus!). Writing now has a space in my life again and that makes me happy.<br />
<br />
Oh, and I have the best husband ever who, in these crazy economic times, said he fully supported me leaving my very good job because I needed too. He's the bomb. I'll have to make sure that the characters based on him are always the hero.<br />
<br />
Love you Kevin!<br />
<br />
Peace,<br />
<br />
Jo<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134723966971922384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371554764910987286.post-34915070345225619532013-01-01T21:47:00.002-08:002013-01-27T00:09:32.211-08:00I'm Not BusyHow can the time escape my grasp so often?<br />
<br />
I simply don't know. Ever the control freak, I fully believe I have the hours and days accounted for, banked, and ready to go. And then I look at the calendar and I am horrified that it has been two months since I have written and I thought it was only two days.<br />
<br />
The other day, one of my staff asked about the art that hangs in my office and she had no idea I had done them. They are compilations, multimedia cuts and pastes because I cannot draw a straight line with a ruler. But I can put things together. Art, people, whatever or whoever needs to be made whole and complete, that is my mission in life.<br />
<br />
I can put stories together too and that is what I like doing the most, but even I am sick of myself complaining about how I cannot get to it and that I am too busy. I hate that word. Busy. It serves as an excuse for when we do not want to do something and for when we can't, so that those on the receiving end start to wonder which they are - not wanted or not important enough to leap ahead of someone or something else.<br />
<br />
My New Year's resolution - made <i>before</i> the new year, is to never say that word. To stop and listen, to make time for people <b>and</b> words. It's possible. I have lots to do but I will never say I am busy. Busy sounds like a fly that just circles around and annoys people. "Yeah, yeah, everyone is busy."<br />
<br />
If I make the smallest effort, I will not be busy. I will be productive yet available for my family and friends, my staff, my docs, and the patients we care for. Most of all, I will carve out the time I need for me - because I cannot encourage, support, and engage with anyone if I feel deprived. Some of it is a mind set - semantics - and some of it is being willing to reset, again, to the type of person I want to be.<br />
<br />
We all get a little off now and then. Sometimes it's harder to get back to positive. Maybe I'll just smile more often. And then this time next year, I will do it again when my attitude needs readjusting and I start saying the B word again.<br />
<br />
Happy New Year! I've been told just yesterday that the secret to the universe is love - I pass it on to you.<br />
<br />
Peace,<br />
Jo Taylor<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134723966971922384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371554764910987286.post-37394360401585714262012-10-20T20:28:00.000-07:002015-02-26T14:56:45.515-08:00Life's Tenuous ThreadI write poetry often now. It does not really make me any better at it - over lots and lots of time it might - but I write poetry because it takes less time than doing the refining work necessary for the stories I've finished. Big job that.<br />
<br />
Poetry lets me convey a thought, express myself in smaller bits. Sometimes the process is to spit it out, then let it sit and simmer, stirring every once in a while until it gathers flavor and body and taste.<br />
<br />
Is it soup yet?<br />
<br />
Then at other times, it comes in painfully slow bursts, one fragile segment at a time. Poetry is so far the only thing I've published (as a contributor in a collection for a book, and as a few (5 - but who's counting) contest winners. I like it. I like writing it much more than I like reading it, so I totally understand when friends and family skip my poetry.<br />
<br />
Poetry is one of those things that if you give a few minutes to it and it does not "say" something to you, you should go on. Very few are deep enough that you would miss the entirety of a world changing idea on the first pass. You'll know if it's a world changing idea. Something in it will speak to you. You will see yourself, or realize you've thought that exact same thing, or find that the way the poet said something made you see that thing in an entirely new way.<br />
<br />
That's exciting.<br />
<br />
We don't get to do that in school - find the poetry that speaks to you. And that is too bad. Just think - the one thing you've been unable to express, the feeling you've never been able to make live outside of you is likely sitting somewhere in the pages of a book nearby. Only we don't take the time to look, because we do not know what we are looking for.<br />
<br />
This just kills me.<br />
<br />
I feel like there is a treasure out there waiting to be found. I feel like if I just find it I will feel connected, loved, saddened by the human condition, and awed in the space and time of the universe. Sometimes I am depressed, convinced I'll never find it, then full of curiosity and looking like a hound for a bone.<br />
<br />
But more often than not, I sit and let my mind wander, hopeful that the words will fall upon the page and express the one thing that changes the way someone looks at love, or connection, or sadness, or awe.<br />
<br />
It's a thrill.<br />
<br />
Peace,<br />
<br />
Jo Taylor<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134723966971922384noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371554764910987286.post-7638450593254888592012-10-20T00:00:00.000-07:002015-02-11T08:26:16.915-08:00Postcards<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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I've written a poem about Postcards of all things - sending it out to the world soon. We'll see what happens.</div>
<!--EndFragment-->Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134723966971922384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371554764910987286.post-33338271373822599152012-09-16T22:18:00.000-07:002012-09-16T22:18:38.303-07:00For KarenThis is for Karen. My friend and cheerleader. It was her birthday recently and I missed it because I haven't been on Facebook much and I've been working my butt off (see- it's smaller :)) at work.<br />
<br />
Happy Birthday!<br />
<br />
Karen requested some writing. Here goes.<br />
<br />
I am back now. I was never really gone, but I wasn't here - writing and writing and writing. I had a few things happen this summer that made it impossible to write, but those things are over, or almost over and the writing can commence again with great joy.<br />
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<br /></div>
<div>
The biggest thing to happen was that my son was ill. It was a very strange and random thing. He didn't want me to write anything on Facebook about it - but he said I could blog about it. Little does he know that my Facebook pulls the blog. Ha! I win.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I think it is kind of an interesting story, so I share it for a few reasons. One, there are really odd and random things that happen in this world. Two, having a record of it later may be helpful. Three, my kid is really an amazing young man, and I'd like to let everyone know that. I'm proud because at 15, he is more of a grownup than many, many grownups.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
It all started when he got back from Young Life Camp - a christian camp in Northern California where he spent a week in late June. The day after he got back - he got a fever. Nothing spectacular, just a regular, feel like crud fever. Low grade - C maybe (just kidding). 99.1 if I remember right. That was July 1. Since I'm a nurse, I paid him no attention whatsoever.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
He continued with said fever for 7 days. Only it got higher - 103.6 - and stayed that way for 3 more days. He looked miserable but not "toxic." When he finally complained of some lower belly pain, my husband overrode my declaration that he was still probably "fine" and we went to the Emergency Department. On a really busy night. Thank you June (super wonderful nurse).<br />
<br />
Well, long story short he had a blood infection that had become an infection of one of the bones in his pelvis. Ooops.<br />
<br />
5 days in the hospital on IV antibiotics made him feel much better, 2 more weeks of IV antibiotics at home inconvenienced him a bit, but he handled it like a champ, and 2 months of oral antibiotics are almost finished.<br />
<br />
We see the pediatric orthopedist and the pediatric infectious disease specialists tomorrow and hopefully get clearance for him to run again. He runs Cross Country and he hasn't been able to run since he was sick. There is a risk of the hamstring muscle attachment to the bone being stronger than the bone and pulling a piece of said bone off. Ouch. Probably all good now and he's ready to go.<br />
<br />
I'm so impressed and proud of him.<br />
<br />
The other thing that's been keeping me from writing is I am super busy at work. I think it is a combination of being new to the job (8 months is new in my world), having super way high expectations of myself, and truly having a lot to do.<br />
<br />
My Dad's been sick too, so I'm driving down to see him every other weekend. He always leaves the TV on those headline news stations (THAT is where I get the news junky side of my personality) and I happened to glance over at the screen. There was a disabled athlete they were interviewing and the banner at the bottom of the screen showed his name. Only I read it wrong. It SAID "Dick Traum" and I, ever the graceful conversationalist, exclaimed "Dick Trauma?" (thinking that's what it read and in my mind saying why in the hell does CNN have dick trauma as a headline?)<br />
<br />
My dad didn't skip a beat. He said "That's the worst kind."<br />
<br />
Jake about fell on the floor laughing.<br />
<br />
Geez I crack myself up.<br />
<br />
Just for you Karen. Thank you.<br />
<br />
Peace,<br />
<br />
Jo Taylor<br />
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134723966971922384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371554764910987286.post-1414470595768373552012-04-29T20:40:00.000-07:002015-03-14T20:37:15.850-07:00I Miss . . . 2012 versionI miss writing in a way I never thought I would.<br />
<br />
My new job, as the Director of an Emergency Department, has me communicating (talking) so much and to/with so many people that I'm sick of hearing myself by the time I get in the car to go home each day. Singing on the drive is not talking, so yes, I still do that. Cecelia Bartoli lately.<br />
<br />
Funny thing is, I don't really feel like I'm <i>saying</i> anything. Communicating with staff is fun because of the spectrum of literal and inferred meaning. I have to be more precise in what I say because I excel at inference, and I usually assume the person I'm talking to gets my meaning.<br />
<br />
Oops. I've had to fix a few things already due to the literal - inference spectrum.<br />
<br />
What other writers may understand though, is my intense desire to write even one good sentence. I want to communicate anxiety, the tenor of sadness, and humor most of all. I write lots of emails and you can't really use humor there because it is bound to be misunderstood. I've gotten brave lately and said funny things and gotten the great satisfaction of surprised faces. I must be intense too often at work. No one knows I'm funny.<br />
<br />
Ah well, that will come with time.<br />
<br />
If I've written about something, I have control over my response to it (actually - I know in my control freak little mind that I have no control over anything). If I haven't had time to process my experiences by writing, I am at risk. It's not really a logical thought, but it is true. So, hopefully, in July when I have vacation time, I will write.<br />
<br />
Pinterest is a new website that lets you waste vast quantities of time in the most enjoyable manner possible. There was a picture of some women in bathing suits and fish hats on their heads. I instantly missed Susan Flinkenshelt. We used to call each other Fish Head. Long story. Anyway, I pinned the picture and that started me thinking about her.<br />
<br />
Miss you.<br />
<br />
<u>These are the things I missed in my original post on March 7, 2011</u><br />
<br />
<br />
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I miss lying on the grass and watching the clouds for hours.</div>
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I miss a poet I know only as Jonathan because he doesn't post anymore and I still want to read what he has to say.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
I miss my baby's neck - he's 14 now and his neck doesn't smell or feel the same.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I miss being able to eat an entire pizza.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I miss a quiet house. My son did not talk until he was 2 1/2, and since then he has not shut up.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I miss the passion I had for changing the world.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I miss the crunch of snow beneath my feet, but I don't at all miss anything else about it.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I miss my friend Kevin. I still hear his laugh sometimes.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I miss being fascinated by ants.</div>
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I miss sitting on the swings and talking with my friends.</div>
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I miss my characters when I finish their stories.</div>
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What do you miss?</div>
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<br /></div>
<br />
Peace,<br />
<br />
Jo<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134723966971922384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371554764910987286.post-4230042292974734012012-03-20T21:01:00.000-07:002012-03-20T21:01:51.726-07:00On Being WrongI tried to look up one of my previous posts, one I knew I wrote sometime, but alas cannot find, about Being Wrong. I can't find it because evidently, and this surprises me, I never actually wrote it. This is surprising due to the fact that I am Wrong, and think often about how I am Wrong, and kvetch and worry about said Wrongness a lot - but I hardly ever say it out loud.<br />
<br />
Not that I don't try to admit it and make amends, but if I'm thinking it then surely everyone "knows" that I have acknowledged it - don't they?<br />
<br />
Yeah, I don't buy it either. One of the things Margaret has a difficult time with is telling Honey about the things she knows for fear of Being Wrong. This fear must be universal, but it plays out in so many ways that it is really hard to pin bad behavior on this fear. It is a driving force in her character though, so I pay attention to how people react to Being Wrong. Sometimes it is exquisitely painful to watch.<br />
<br />
Much of medicine is practiced based on fear of Being Wrong. I know, I <i>know</i> that Triage nurses know what's wrong with a patient within 5 minutes as do the doctors who see them next. But for fear of Being Wrong (and a little thing called avoidance of distasteful consequence), we do a bunch of tests and generally come up with the first assumption. Of course, it really isn't quite that simple, and oh yeah, sometimes we are soooo wrong, but wouldn't medicine be much more efficient if we could go with what we knew?<br />
<br />
But what if we are Wrong?<br />
<br />
The risk, the cost is just too high. No one in medicine thinks for a moment that we should just go with what skilled clinicians know to be true. The cost of Being Wrong is not worth it.<br />
<br />
How many things, right now, would the cost of Being Wrong not really be too high?<br />
<br />
I don't have an answer. It is just a question. Actually, it is a completely terrible sentence, but I'm leaving it because it's Wrong. And the cost is . . . some of you think I'm a toad.<br />
<br />
Oh the horror!<br />
<br />
Wait . . . I . . . I think I'm okay.<br />
<br />
My fear of being wrong in my writing has much to do with real life fears - Being Wrong and making something bad happen, fear of no one reading all the words I took years and years to write, fear of zombies.<br />
<br />
Nurses feel this stomach dropping fear of Wrongness in a whole different dimension than most people - if we are Wrong patients can DIE! That is fear let me tell ya. So I don't mean to equate fear of Being Wrong as a writer to fear of Being Wrong in medicine - it is different.<br />
<br />
It's just that . . . you know . . . in writing and in character is much more interesting and believable if the writer has experienced it first hand. And so I practice being, you know (wrong).<br />
<br />
I've been excellent at it lately. Home, work, the bank (oh that was baaad). What has struck me as funny even though I detest Being Wrong is how wrong is one of the things that doesn't improve with practice. I find it impossible to believe that I could be More Wrong, or somehow do it better even though I've given it my best shot.<br />
<br />
So I would really like to stop Being Wrong as I have not improved at it even with all the practice I've had. Oh, if it were only this easy.<br />
<br />
Peace,<br />
Jo<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134723966971922384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371554764910987286.post-57473268551771000952012-03-14T21:22:00.001-07:002015-03-14T20:37:42.398-07:00Sayings<br />
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I hate to admit it, but I am one of those people who tend to say the same thing over and over in certain situations. You'd think a writer could be more verbally creative "live," but lack of snappy comebacks happens to be one of the main reasons why I "write" as oppose to "speak." Not that I don't speak.</div>
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Some of my sayings are from a childhood spent all over America. In Texas, we say, if we do not care about something, that we "<i>don't give a rat's ass</i>." I have no idea why, but we Texans say it anyway. In the South, if someone has done something stupid, we'll say "bless her heart" with just a hint of disdain. I don't remember where I got "fixin" from, it was either Alabama or Texas where we were "fixin to go to church" and all that was implied.</div>
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Someone I knew, once upon a time, was from Tulare. I was friends with her daughter and when we went to Sherry's house after school, we'd ask her mom if we could do something just to hear her say, "<i>Don't make me no nevermind.</i>" I still laughed just now writing it.</div>
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Medicine has its own entire language built around sayings. FTD - fixin to die,</div>
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DRT - dead right there, you get the idea. The funny thing is, "sayings" are not the only things we say without really thinking about it.</div>
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The perfunctory "how are you?" when we pass in the hall, the "fine" thrown around like a midget wrestler on Sunday, the "have a nice day!" flying off my tongue like I really mean it . . . wait . . . do I mean it?</div>
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I don't too often think about the things I say being sincere or truly inquisitive - I just say them out of habit - don't I?</div>
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<br /></div>
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At the risk of being called Sheldon by those who know my slightly retentive tendencies, I pose an experiment. For the next whole day after you read this (how could you do it before you read it), I challenge you to not just say the same thing in the same way for just one day. Try something that will take a moment to consider, let the people you see every day know that you have one or two whole minutes for them, not just the seconds we parcel out like cards on a table.</div>
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I'm not sure I can do it. And if I did do it, would it annoy the living hell out of those I tried it on?</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
I think it is a fine goal, to really be asking and want a true response when we ask "how are you?" but frankly, society is not set up to deal with that. Imagine how many hours we would add to our days if we had to think through the entire communication labyrinth without a few easy coins thrown in here and there?</div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
And yet, it is the uncommon statement or question or greeting that means the most in this harried world. I sat down to write this tonight because Karen asked me to, just after "hey, how's it going? . . . work discussion redacted . . . when are you going to write on your blog?" A simple thing perhaps, but thank you Karen for asking and thank you for saying something that touched me.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
Peace,</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
Jo</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134723966971922384noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371554764910987286.post-18655145025844868362011-04-14T20:41:00.000-07:002015-11-17T16:18:57.677-08:00White Picket FenceSo almost 3 weeks later, I finally have my white picket fence story finished. Some day I will link to the published version, but until then you're going to have to trust me.<br />
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I do have a funny story that goes with the story though. As is oh-so-typical of me, I found something unusual (odd) after I wrote it. I made up the address and I've never lived in New York City. Since we live in an age where we can look ANYTHING up in an instant, I thought I should Google the address and see what came up. It turns out that it is a real address. And get this - it's a restaurant called "Joe's Place." Geez, I crack myself up.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Peace,</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Jo Taylor</span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134723966971922384noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371554764910987286.post-43149882941159735942011-03-25T20:15:00.000-07:002011-03-25T20:15:53.261-07:00Flash FictionFlash Fiction is something I don't do particularly well, so I make myself do it every once in a while to get better at it. As you could probably tell from my blog posts, I am a bit verbose.<br />
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Flash Fiction is a short story, a very short story, that fits into less than a thousand words. If you read a garden variety paperback, you could guess that each page is 250 words, so Flash Fiction is usually about four of those pages long. The hard part is making a complete, engaging story fit into that short of a space. Some Flash Fiction is even as short as 50 or 100 words - but I find that to be completely impossible.<br />
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Hemingway wrote one of the shortest (and best) stories ever. 6 words.<br />
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"For sale. Baby shoes, never worn."<br />
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It is a complete story. We can all imagine what it means.<br />
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All day, every day, I see or hear or think of something that would make a good story. Since I started writing, it has become the way I think. Maybe I always thought this way and just never identified it as storytelling. As a kid, I spent an inordinate amount of time in my room, by myself, grounded for various and sundry reasons by either of the wicked step monsters, and I had to entertain myself somehow. So, I made stuff up.<br />
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I think everyone can do it, it just gets nurtured in some and ignored in others. The talent is in compressing it, molding it, fine tuning it enough so that other people want to hear the story.<br />
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Something as simple as "a white picket fence" can set me off into composing a story about the fence. I wish I had more time to think, but for some strange reason, I find that being busy makes me more creative - in a more condensed fashion - than in the past two years. Go figure. Less time - better writing.<br />
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Huh.<br />
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I don't recommend it. I think real writers need to do just that - write. But, as I say in my bio, I'm a writer in my <i>unreal</i> life.<br />
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In a few days or perhaps a week, I'll post the "white picket fence" story. It should be about 500 to 800 words or so. I just started it last night and I know everything except the ending. I start stories very well and agonize over the ending. I always read the last page of a book before I start reading it and I never knew why. Still don't, but perhaps it has something to do with how I compose a story. One beginning, many possible endings. Maybe I should collaborate with someone who always knows how to end a story, but struggles with the beginning.<br />
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Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?<br />
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Sorry, I digress.<br />
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I love things that have symbolism so ingrained, and yet subtly different for everyone. The "white picket fence" topic is one of those, and it will be interesting to hear how others interpret it.<br />
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Peace,<br />
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Jo TaylorAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134723966971922384noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371554764910987286.post-2253618819650927212011-03-19T19:40:00.000-07:002011-03-19T19:40:06.424-07:00Characteristically Falling DownI named this blog Characteristically Speaking for a few reasons. The most obvious reason is that I talk a lot and it seems quite characteristic of me to be speaking. The other reason was that most of my writing revolves around character, so I had high hopes of being able to write about character development and other things as I learned them myself. Teaching something is the best way to learn it.<br />
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Besides those two things, I found from the very beginning that somehow my character's strongest impact was from their voice, their way of speaking and of telling their story.<br />
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But if there is something that is also strongly characteristic of me - it's that I fall down. Right about now if my former medic partner John is reading this, he will have spit beer (or coffee - depending on the time of day) all over the screen as he remembers the numerous times I fell down, literally, on the job. For no reason. I would be standing there, and then I would fall down.<br />
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Now this is not a weakness kind of fall, but a fall only the most klutzy among us can master. That would be me.<br />
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We were standing in a patient's living room, and I fell down. I wasn't even moving. I still swear it was an earthquake. John just looked down at me and laughed.<br />
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Another time, I turned from a patient's bed and a very helpful Volly (volunteer fire) had wrapped the EKG cables behind my legs and I fell forward towards the slightly ajar bedroom door with enough force to cause my left hand to slip off of the door frame into the void, swiftly followed by my right hand pushing the door closed on my left hand hard enough to break my ring finger. The five aghast family members sitting on the sofa watched in silence as I simply elevated my bleeding hand and walked out.<br />
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There have been more, but it's probably a blessing they are long forgotten.<br />
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However, I did it again the other day.<br />
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I was cleaning the shower (and this is PROOF that housework is bad for you) and I was squatting down (jeez, I hate that word -squatting, but that's what I was doing) scrubbing the tile floor with a scrubbie pad. Minding my own business. Trying to clean. That's all.<br />
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Suddenly, my feet went out from under me - sideways (think of Bambi on ice and that's pretty close), and I hit the inside of my left knee on the tile so hard that I sucked all the air in the universe into my lungs. The next thing I thought of was how cold the water was going to be if I couldn't get up. What can I say - I'm a survivor.<br />
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I love to think of myself as graceful and all that, but it just isn't true. Three weeks later, my knee still hurts. And my walk is less than graceful. Waaa.<br />
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Graceful isn't just in the way we move, but in the way we are. Sometimes these blogs are not about the smallness of my world, but really they are about documenting the bigger world and what is going on in it.<br />
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Japan has been knocked to it's knees, and her people are showing an incredible amount of grace in the face of immense tragedy and gigantic obstacles. I am sure they will get up, and walk gracefully through to the other side. The other side which we call "normal."<br />
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I've been crybabying about my silly sore knee and this last week of watching the news has made me realize that my problems and aches are infinitesimal compared to theirs. My grace, which I want to believe I have at least a small amount of, pales in comparison to theirs. My prayers are for their continued strength, and for me to learn something from them.<br />
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We Americans love to characterize ourselves as survivors, fighters, winners (OK, now that word is forever ruined thank you Charlie Sheen). Japan and her people are an example to me of grace. If there were any quality I would want to cultivate, it would be characteristic grace.<br />
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Bless you Japan.<br />
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Peace,<br />
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Jo TaylorAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134723966971922384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371554764910987286.post-79971394362161214792011-03-07T20:22:00.000-08:002011-03-07T20:22:17.757-08:00I Miss . . .I miss lying on the grass and watching the clouds for hours.<br />
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I miss a poet I know only as Jonathan because he doesn't post anymore and I still want to read what he has to say.<br />
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I miss my baby's neck - he's 13 now and his neck doesn't smell or feel the same.<br />
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I miss being able to eat an entire pizza.<br />
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I miss a quiet house. My son did not talk until he was 2 1/2, and since then he has not shut up.<br />
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I miss the passion I had for changing the world.<br />
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I miss the crunch of snow beneath my feet, but I don't at all miss anything else about it.<br />
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I miss my friend Kevin. I still hear his laugh sometimes.<br />
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I miss caring for patients who were nice, or funny, or brave.<br />
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I miss the excitement of Christmas Eve and pressing my nose against the cold window as I looked for Rudolph.<br />
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I miss being fascinated by ants.<br />
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I miss sitting on the swings and talking with my friends.<br />
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I miss my characters when I finish their stories.<br />
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What do you miss?<br />
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Peace,<br />
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Jo TaylorAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134723966971922384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371554764910987286.post-56469386677747784762011-02-26T22:35:00.000-08:002011-02-26T22:38:13.156-08:00Being PositiveFor most of my life, I've been positive. Positive attitude, positive I could do something (or positive I couldn't), positive that God existed and so did ghosts, even if I nor anyone else ever saw them.<br />
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</div><div>I'm also quite sure (who am I kidding - positive) there is a gene that influences this as I don't even have to make a conscious choice to see the world this way. My early life challenged this mind set over and over, but I always knew I would rise above. Still, sometimes it takes a monumental event to kick it into high gear.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I went to Africa in May of 2000 and it changed my life. I went with my husband and some friends on a two week photo safari to Kenya and Tanzania. I shot 27 rolls of film (for those of you younger that me, film is the stuff pictures used to be printed from - little canisters- 27 of them), got some great pics, great memories, and had two profound realizations:</div><div><br />
</div><div>When we landed on the airstrip at the Serengeti, I walked out of the plane and felt . . . like I was home. I've never had that sensation before or since and I can only explain it on a genetic level . . . home. Nothing - not the plants, the animals, the smells, nor the feel of the air was the same as my physical home, but it was somehow incredibly familiar and comforting.</div><div><br />
</div><div>The other thing about Africa is that the people were happy, content - with NOTHING. They built their roads by hand (seriously by hand - I saw them) and earned maybe 300.00 per year, but they were so surely "in the land" - in the cradle of civilization - and they were happy.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I live in the United States of America. I have a job. I have a roof over my head. I am rich beyond measure compared to most of the world. </div><div><br />
</div><div>I was truly humbled.</div><div><br />
</div><div>And I was newly positive and happy in a way that has never left me. </div><div><br />
</div><div>I was so happy in fact that I quit my job (because I was lucky enough to be able to), stayed home with my son (who was then 3) for four years, and then when I was bored I went back to work.</div><div><br />
</div><div>More wonderful material things have come to me since I stopped working FOR them and just worked for the joy of it. Call me silly, but being positive and grateful really are the keys to being happy. Not stuff. Never stuff.</div><div><br />
</div><div>People are a given though - gotta have the peeps.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Being positive is not without its drawbacks. </div><div><br />
</div><div>I recently began a new job which involves learning lots of new things and managing a staff of . . . some, let's just say some. Anyway, it feels challenging but not overwhelming, and I am positive that I can be good at it within a few months. One of my staff asked me (very nicely) if I had any concept of what was going on . . . did I get it? </div><div><br />
</div><div>It suddenly occurred to me that I appeared clueless because I was so happily and positively taking on a challenge. My words reassured her that I was not oblivious, but I hope my actions reassure her even more. </div><div><br />
</div><div>I get it. I really do.</div><div><br />
</div><div>How can anyone be happy and positive if they have any idea of what the reality of the world is these days? The economy, the instability in the Middle East, work pressures to do more with less, violent and strange weather all over the world, the threat of CME's (Coronal Mass Ejections which frankly scare me the most - what if we lose computers???!!! E-gads).</div><div><br />
</div><div>Is anything made better by being negative? No</div><div><br />
</div><div>Is anything made better by being positive? Yes</div><div><br />
</div><div>It seems to me like the most obvious thing in the world, but maybe I'm just lucky.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I have written two novels so far - because I am positive that I can do it. It is such a monumental task that I don't think you can take it on unless you know it can be done. Doing it well and actually getting published is a whole other story, but the fact that I have finished and am currently revising two novels gives me great satisfaction.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I haven't written much about writing here lately, but I think it speaks to motivation of character if you analyze global mind sets like positive vs negative. From which side does your character view the world? Right, left, dexter, sinister, positive, negative - it is a starting point for motivation of action that supersedes all others. Experience and environment can modify a basic tendency, but your character is at his/her core a positive or negative being. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Which side are you on?</div><div><br />
</div><div>Peace,</div><div><br />
</div><div>Jo Taylor</div><div><br />
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</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134723966971922384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371554764910987286.post-10348156356688492082011-01-27T20:41:00.000-08:002011-01-27T20:41:57.253-08:00Being in Two Places At OnceLots of people accept the futility of being in two places at once. I thought of this today as I was working a few hours at one of my jobs and a few hours at the other. It would be much more efficient to be in both places at the same time.<br />
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Impossible.<br />
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Or not.<br />
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One of my favorite books is "The Fabric of the Cosmos" by Brian Greene (whom I would love, love, love to meet someday). It's a book about theoretical physics and how our knowledge of the universe is evolving. Space and time are not (it is theorized) what we thought them to be. One of the most startling ideas is that you <i>could</i> be in two places at once. They've actually proven this part of the theory on the atomic level. How is that not common and awe-inspiring knowledge?<br />
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I cannot do any of the ideas justice as far as explaining them. I have to read and re-read them to really get it, and then read it again. But to me, it is completely worth the effort. It is challenging and interesting and satisfies my desire to learn. If you are interested, the book can be found <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Fabric-Cosmos-Space-Texture-Reality/dp/0375727205/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1296187643&sr=8-1">here</a>. </div><br />
String theory and quantum physics are made interesting and accessible by Dr. Greene, and for that I am truly grateful. The idea of multiple, parallel universes is not just an excuse for the odd things that happen in life. At some levels, it makes the odd things make sense.<br />
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It also makes me laugh to realize almost everything I've ever thought to be impossible - isn't.<br />
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And I think <i>that</i> is a very inspiring idea.<br />
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Peace,<br />
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Jo TaylorAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134723966971922384noreply@blogger.com0