The Writing Myth

I stopped being in online or real life writers groups because I was just so darned annoyed by the idiocy of them. First of all, people think writing is something they should do for free for "exposure." This is ludicrous. You should write until you're good enough that someone will pay you for it. Giving away your words just tells people that you don't think you're any good, either.

The other reason I stopped trying to be involved is that people spend TONS of time thinking about stupid things like their pen names and the names of the books they will write. Well, big news here, names of books are generally determined by editors and/or marketers. So, you'd be better off to spend some time writing. And, hey, it might give you something to put that pen name on. You'll have plenty of time to practice the Oprah interview when you're jetting between cities on your mega book tour. (Dream big!)

I think the reason people don't want to do any writing is because it's hard to accept that it's one of the easiest things in the world to do, and yet it's so damned hard to do it well. All it takes is a pencil and paper - almost everyone on the planet has the necessary equipment. It boils down to BIC (butt in chair) and that's the thing people have such a hard time with. In reality we don't need computers or spell checkers or an audience. What we need is to write. But, it's the last thing that most wanna be writers seem to want to do. I also discovered that the people who are making a living writing are generally ... well ... WRITING.

Wanna be writers join writers groups in real life and online where they can talk about writing. And they read books about writing. The only thing they don't spend much time doing is writing. Should they actually do some writing, their first instinct is to try and get someone to publish it. Trust me, that's rarely the first thing you should try to do with your writing.

Goodness knows surfing through about 85% of the web should be reason enough to realize that many people who write should not publish. And that *anyone* with a few dollars a month can publish a website. Shoot, you don't even have to have a few dollars - you can do it for free - blog sites abound.

Within the last 24 hours, I've actually heard someone refer to their "job" as being a "freelance writer." In reality, this person has neither a job nor are they a freelance writer. I know because they've gone on to say they're writing for online sites for free. I'm sorry, you're confused... let me clear this up for you... this is NOT a "job." It's volunteer work. A job is something you get paid for.

It's also rather bad form to call yourself a "freelance" writer when you're a volunteer writer. "Freelance" means to sell your services to an employer without a long term commitment. Even a volunteer writer should understand the words one is using.

A "job" is when you perform a service for someone - maybe writing - and do it well - and so they pay you for your services. It's much like when you pay the hairdresser to cut your hair, or the cleaner to press your suit, or the tailor to make your clothes. When you have a JOB as a writer, people pay you for the service you're performing of putting words together.

Well, this type, along with the, "well, today I've taken a leap of faith, and decided to devote myself to my art and quit my job" types, are the reasons I can't find a place to communicate with other writers. I haven't yet seen anyone who didn't have someone else to pay their bills take a "leap of faith" and quit their job. If you've got a spouse to pay all your bills, then it's not a leap of faith, it's just sleeping in when you want. A leap of faith is when you're so sure you can sell your writing that you're willing to bet the house on it - literally. Relying on someone else to pay the bills is not the same thing.

Well... gosh... apparently I needed to get that off my chest. And - hey - I got some big news for you - few of us like to write, but most of us love having written. Now, I need to get back to my own writing.

Scars and Stories

I often wonder how we all got to adulthood. My nephews (all just a little older than me) and I grew up together and between the five of us there were more bike accidents and tumbles and falls and sprained ankles than I can count. There were accidents involving bikes and trees and horses and farm equipment.

Between us there was a broken back, a choking incident, a fingertip cut severely, a broken arm, two broken legs (same person, same time) a snake bite, and dozens of other things involving medical attention.

And yet, somehow, we're now between 43 and 50 and we have no ill effects other than a few scars and stories.

When you consider we were all around farm equipment, had never imagined wearing seat belts, were pulled in old car hoods behind trucks as a sled in the winter, and rode on tailgates all summer long, it's rather amazing.

Funny how times change.

A Saturday Full of DWC, Art, Food and Friends

This morning I went to the Democratic Women's Club convention for our district. It was in Hutchinson and I was a delegate. To tell you the truth, even after having the experience, I'm not sure what that means.
I'm not a person who enjoys meetings, but I had never done this and wanted to see what it was like. So, I decided I would go. Before I left, Terry called this morning and I was telling him what I was doing and he said, "oh, yeah, Mom said she saw in the paper that you were an alternate to the convention." I said, "Oh, no, that's the Altrusa convention later this month." We had a good laugh at how my fingers are in so many pies.

The keynote speaker today was Ethel Peterson and she was really good. I got to sit with a table of really fun people, including Theda, Judy and Kathie. It can make such a difference who you're with at things like this. I don't know that I'll feel the need to go again, but I'm glad I did.

It was a beautiful day here today - 70 and sunny. When I got in from the convention, I flipped on the TV to get the latest, and learned that the Pope had died just a little earlier. He will be missed.

I was in a relective mood so decided to go up to the studio for a little bit. I needed to get the correspondence cards done that I had promised for the Altrusa conference later in the month. Once I got started on them, they went pretty smoothly. I still have to package them, but they're all done now.

I did them all in yellows and oranges. The black is micron pens and the watercolor is Cotman. I have some Holbein I just bought and I LOVE the intensity of it, but this was a case where the less intense, student grade, watercolors were better because they did not dilute the effect of the black micron pen I drew with. I sketched them with pencil to get the shape right, then did the black and then watercolored them in. They are done on watercolor and each one has one of the four butterflies in the upper left corner.

I talked to Teresa a couple of times. I wanted to get her perspective on yesterday. I hated it that I couldn't go with the group of them for the evening presentation, but I had another gathering.

About 5 I went to meet Greg at Skaets. I have been going there 2-4 times a week in the last month or so. I can't seem to eat enough moon-burgers. A friend who was in there the other night tells me they were put on the menu when the moon landing occured. I don't know if that's true, but I know I like them - charcoaled until they're completely done - piled with grilled onions that are so soft they're barely recognizeable as onions - and topped off with all the goodies, including lots of pickles. I have a thing about pickles!

Karen, one of the owners, was in there tonight and we had a nice conversation with her. She asked about the Jackalope and Greg went out to the car to get him. A round of picture taking ensued. The only problem is that life doesn't hold still for my little cheapie digital camera. But, man, I love the convenience of always having it with me.

Ashley, who has waited on us a bunch of times - and is GREAT - even became a little less camera shy with the Jackalope around. He has magic powers. I keep telling Greg he's got to have his own webpage. The lope has had many adventures by now. He's ridden a cable car, been on multiple beaches, visited Tiki bars, graced many a cool restaurant table, admired the Big Texan in Amarillo and dozens of other things.

It has been a long day and I'm going to church in the morning with some friends. One of our local church leaders, who is someone I really respect, will be preaching in the morning about the marriage amendment we'll be voting on this Tuesday. We want to support him for speaking out so we're going to be there in the morning.

Well... time for me to hit the sack. I need to get up early in the morning to get some things done before the day gets in to full swing. It's going to be another busy one - there's church, lunch with friends, a flea market, and a trip to Wichita planned. How could I live my life if I needed 8 hours of sleep a night? lol

The Pope

As I write this, the Pope is close to death. His life has affected all of us on this globe, not just Catholics. I'm not a member of the Catholic faith, but when John Paul came to be Pope, after such a short time by his predecessor, my best friend was Catholic. It was such a huge event to her and I've never forgotten that.

It was the first time we had experienced this, because we had been too young when the previous Pope had been selected. Then, we experienced it twice in a very short amount of time.

I'm touched that the Pope has elected to remain in his residence, knowing that he has no hope without aggressive antibiotic treatment, and minimal even then. He is ending his life with dignity. Reports are that he has been peaceful and serene and conscious - praying and being read to - and accepting. It seems like as beautiful a death as one can hope for.

He is being allowed to exit this world as he wishes, as God wishes, with no one fighting over his choices.

The Dark Side

I spent the day in a seminar at Prairie View in Newton today titled, "The Dark Side - the Shadow Within." It was about how to recognize and accept the parts of us that are what the worst of humanity can be. We did some exercises to identify the masks we present to the world, and how that affects how we relate to people.

One of the exercises was to identify a number of things about our primary caregivers when we were children. The purpose was to find the point at which we lost the childlike bit of us that is open and has no malice and is all truth and something breaks in us and leads us to form our mask.

A truth that was hard for me was to hear the three fundamental childhood wounds - betrayal, rejection and abandonment. Every child encounters trauma, pain, unhappiness, rejection, helplessness, etc. - real or perceived - so every child will be "broken" at some point. But, those fundamentals are huge ones.

Depending on your wound, you develop a fight, flight or freeze mentality. I have a mask of "power" - I'm in control. In one of the exercises, I wrote the following, "When I feel under the gun, I become insistent about others doing it my way. I don't have time to explain or be questioned. Just do what I say. It won't get done otherwise." If that doesn't work, my next mask is "serenity," which is the "well... whatever you want to do... I'm not going to get involved."

I'm going to have to spend some time thinking and journaling about the compulsion to recreate childhood wounds. I know I must address some things in my world.

Another one I need to work on is my projections about others, and what those say about me.

I left with much to think about... obviously.

Butterfly Sketches

Last night I promised to make some correspondence cards with butterflies on them for an Altrusa project. They will be part of a basket for a silent auction at our district conference next month.

I have not ever drawn a butterfly that I can recall, but thought it must not be too difficult. So, I got online and started looking for some photos of butterflies. I've never looked at butterflies except in passing but there are many different shapes and sizes. I've done a few different quick sketches to see what I think would work best.

I think I'll just cut some watercolor paper to the correct sizes and use it for the cards. I think I'll make correspondence cards, not fold over ones. Maybe I'll do a light wash over the whole card. We'll see once I get into it what it ends up being.

I was supposed to have a knitting night with Andrea and Diana tonight to make prayer shawls but Andrea had a little plumbing emergency at her house so we had to cancel. I didn't get the details but it involved water on the kitchen floor and a plumber so it can't have been good.

I have had a quieter day today, other than a lunchtime meeting. Yesterday I literally talked all day long. It was all good, but I was tired of talking by the end of the day. I don't know that that has ever happened to me before. And I used to talk for a living when I worked in radio. lol

I started with breakfast with Susan K. We had a great conversation about how our agencies can work together on a project. I *love* good collaboration projects.

Then I went to the office and was on the phone all morning. Trish and I had lunch and that was wonderful, as always. She is someone who's friendship I treasure.

The afternoon was full of phone calls. Seems like that's just how some days go and yesterday was one of them. I had dinner plans with Julie and then we were meeting some other folks for an impromptu Altrusa gathering. We visited until about 9, which was more than 12 hours of talking for me, but it was a nice day. Just full.

Tomorrow I will go to Newton for a seminar on the mind-body-spirit connection. Most of my friends are going to the evening gathering, but I can't as I have a previous committment. I wish I could do both but I just can't. There just doesn't seem to be enough time for me to be everywhere I need/want to be. I guess that's because I want to do so many things.

Earlier Entries at Live Journal

1. Read earlier entries at http://www.livejournal.com/users/patsyterrell

Fence Posts and Snake Bites

I have a thing about fence posts. Not those modern, metal atrocities, but those old fashioned, made from limbs, bent and twisted, no where near perfect, wooden ones. The ones I saw today were some of the oddest ones I've ever seen assembled. Some were much taller, some much nubbier than usual, some much skinnier. I loved the variety.

I became aware of old wooden fence posts as I noticed them disappearing. I know all the reasons metal ones are easy and convenient and long lasting and blah blah blah. Must everything in this world be logical? Can we not keep something for the aesthetics?

This afternoon I drove up to Maxwell Game Preserve near Canton. Sitting on top of a hill is a two story staircase, otherwise known as the observation tower. Everytime I go there, I climb it, as if I'm going to see much more than I see from the ground. But, apparently I like risking life and limb on a steep staircase that goes nowhere, with no other humans nearby. I climbed Big Brutus not too long ago. I really need to think about my interest in being on steep staircases with no other humans nearby.

It was a gorgeous day today - sunny and warm. I have not had a day off in awhile, working all weekend on the tea and other work things last weekend so I took about three hours off this afternoon and did this. It helped my mood a bit.

Aside from the snakebite. Well, I can't be sure of that. But, I think I got bitten by a snake today.

I waded out into the grassy area beside a fence to get a shot of a bunch of fence posts going off into the distance and something bit my ankle. It was the line of posts near the top picture here. I had little holes that were red at first and then faded to nothing. It never swelled. I never felt bad - and still don't many hours later - but it's just a little tender on my ankle. Of course, I could have just poked myself with some brush too. I don't know. I just know I'm still alive and doing fine so it must not have been anything major.

I freaking HATE snakes so the thought that I was even near one, much less that one may have bitten me, does not make me happy. If I wake up in the morning and the flesh on my ankle is black I'm going to be major pissed. Of course, in the snake's defense, I was in its territory. I don't do that often, but today I was.

That's probably why as you enter the place it says to keep your vehicle on the road and stay in your vehicle. I guess that's not the same as parking your vehicle on the road and walking into the grass to get a picture.

At first I didn't even consider it could be a snake because I didn't think they would be out yet. But, when I had cell phone signal I called Greg and he said of course they could be out. His mom chimed in that she had already seen one. Of course, that was an hour later so I figured by that point there wasn't much to worry about. A little net research tonight tells me that a very tiny percentage of snake bites cause the person to be injected with any significant amount of venom.

If I lived in a country where medical care was a right, and not a priviledge, I would have sought some. But, I live in the United States and am one of those people who work and can't afford any real health care coverage. So, there we go.

Oh... by the way... the photo was not one of the better ones. Isn't that the way it always goes?

When I first got out of the car today - at an authorized place for me to be - the observation tower - I remembered something I forget until I go somewhere like this. The prairie has its own distinctive sound. It's the sound of the wind, but it's more than that. It's noise you can feel. I've only heard it on the prairie.

The first time I ever heard it was at the wagon trail tracks between Dodge City and Cimarron. It's something every visitor should experience. The wind blows all the time in Kansas, but when it's sweeping across a wide open space like this, it surrounds you from every direction all at once. It's a unique experience.

Additional info:
Apparently it was a snake bite. The ankle swelled and turned red in a circle around the fang marks. It was hot to the touch, and turned a variety of colors before dissipating. It seems sometimes it's bacteria from the fangs, and not necessarily venon that causes this. The whole thing makes me shudder. Still.