Why None of Us are Spelling well

This was circulating around my CWC Redwood writers group:

Do you have a strange mind?

if you can raed this, you have a sgtrane mnid too. Can you raed this? Olny plepoe with srtagne mnids can. I cdnuolt blveiee that I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd what I was rdanieg. The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid, aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it dseno’t mtaetr in what oerdr the ltteres in a word are, the olny iproamtnt tihng is that the frsit and last ltteer be in the rghit pclae.

The rset can be a taotl mses and you can still raed it whotuit a pboerlm. This is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the word as a wlohe. Azanmig huh? yaeh and I awlyas tghuhot slpeling was ipmorantt!

 

It gets even worse when you can read so fast, you take in whole sentences and paragraphs (the only way to power through War and Peace).  So slow down, or at least we can all cut each other some slack.

Holiday Break

Happy Holidays to you all!  I’m taking a break until January and will return after the Podcast Awards.

 

Domestic Troubles

If loaded with anything heavier than socks,  my old washing machine rocks and vibrates alarmingly.  As soon as the spin cycle starts sqeeking and crying  I rush to the laundry room and hop up on the washer to calm it and prevent bolts screws and water mains from flinghing out in all directions.

I am pleased with preventing mayhem in the laundry room.  But for the time being, I have nothing to do.

I don’t want to dismount until the spin cycle finishes but the  only thing to read are the instructions on operating the new ironing board my husband recently purchased in a fit of generosity.

I think again that I   should stash a notepad and pen next to the box of Bounce.

Thus armed, I could jot down a laundry themed haiku or trenchent observations on the daily grind of domestic duties.

But by the time all this gets organized in my vibrating brain, the  spin cycle is finished.

And all my planning disappears as I hop off the washer and load the dryer.

Holiday Letters

I love holiday letters.  I know, with Facebook, and web sites and blogging I can follow everyone I want in real time.  But receiving a Christmas card in the mail is so much more satisfying.  A holiday note or letter represents time and energy. The sender spent time and energy editing  the important events of the year and sharing it with me, an intimacy that I no longer take for granted.  The card and note are far more direct and specific than just a Facebook post.

So put me down at a big fan of holiday missives, and no, I am not looking for syntax errors (okay, sometimes I laugh but not that often). I believe that   holiday letter perfection is not even the point, or a very worthy goal.  I’m interested in life: the struggles and triumphs.

What I have noticed is the change of the letter tone. Twenty years ago we  received letters chronicling all the glories and triumphs of the year, along with photos of perfect children receiving awards and spouses posing next to new BMWs.   In the last few years my relatives and friends  have written with far more honestly, describing triumphs to be sure, but also sharing  loss and grief.  I think that is an improvement and am grateful they choose to share that part of their year with me.

So know that when you send a holiday letter, or even an update on a card, you are sending the best gift of the season – a piece of you.

Who is your guardian angel?

After the last car accident, I am more than grateful my father is watching over my oldest son.  My dad fell in love with my first baby in a way I had never experienced. I am sure he loved my brother and me, but the grandchild, now that was special, and my father adored this tiny baby, who, of course, was very much like him.  Including the stubborn streak, and the need to do his own thing rather than conform to societal norms.

My father died young at only 62, and I knew, from that moment,  that his next job would be to protect this much loved grandchild.  There is no other way to explain how the child could survive car crashes, rattle snake bites, and girls.

Who is watching over you?  Who is watching over your children? My friend Sharon Hamilton writes about guardian angels falling in love with their human charges (Heavenly Lover)

Protected Child in Question

.  What about the grandparent?  The mother? It’s an interesting idea.

And I’m grateful Dad took on this new career.

How Bad did NaNoWriMo Get?

You know you are deep, really deep, in the throes of NaNoWriMo when you arrive at a restaurant, focused on  quickly jotting down the main plot points, the pivotal plot points in your NaNo Novel all of which came in a    rush while you were sitting  still  in stop-start holiday traffic and you realize that your trusty notebook that you always haul around in the purple purse, was left behind when you switched out to the red purse (see holiday above)  and you have nothing in the car on which to write  and so you rifle through the free flyers  in the lobby of the  Chinese restaurant and see that not a single advertising missive  has left a blank space  on the back  and you wonder briefly if the mexican place next door features offers those paper placemats with a map of Mexico on one side and BLANK on the other side and if so can you make a dash for it  but it’s too late and you are seated at your lovely table in the Chinese restart and before you can panic,  use the restroom (see traffic) and there is the solution:  sheets of paper towel for the taking.  You pull out  a  half dozen.

And you write on those.

It works surprisingly well.

The moral of this story: always carry a pen.

I don’t think this post would have finished so nicely if I had been forced to use either soy sauce or what was left of my Mary Kay Pink Satin lip color.

What Do You Really Want to Write?

Even if you aren’t participating in NaNoWriMo, and maybe especially if you aren’t participating, take a moment and create a list of all the books you want to write.  What do you really, really want to create?  What do you love to read?  Would you like to write the same kind of book?  What are your favorite films?  Would you like to write a screen play that is just like those favorites?

It’s not an new idea, writing down what you really want, but for writers, sometimes we get caught up in the idea that we should write what is popular, or what is on the best seller list.

Don’t.

Write what you love.

National Novel Writing Month isn’t over yet.

Give it a try.

Stuck in the Middle With Ourselves

Chris Baty, founder of NaNoWriMo reminds us that the middle of any endeavor is called the Long, dark night of the soul for a reason.

“Every Hollywood movie has one because we love seeing our protagonists pummeled for a while before they pick themselves up, dust themselves off, and head out to kick some ass.”

So what is your middle? For writers, the middle is a deadly place. But for most of us, the middle operates as a metaphor.   Do you need to change it your situation?  Is the heroine boring?  Are you boring?   Is she given to spouting clichés?  Did she bat her eyes at the hero and then faint dead in the hero’s arms?

Have you run short of heros here in the middle?

Maybe your heroine needs a hobby.  Like lighting things on fire.  Or running away from home.  Or getting herself kidnapped by aliens.  Any kind of Alien will do.

The point is, sometimes when you struggle in the middle that resembles creativity quicksand, your job is to stop struggling and look around for a low hanging branch.

Consider it this way, Snow White was in the middle of the forest when she encountered the dwarves.  Belle was in the middle of the castle when she encountered the beast.  The Titanic was sailing in the middle of the ocean when it hit the iceberg.

If we are embroiled in the middle, it means there is more to the story.

Yes, the  middle is soft, squishy and difficult.  And for some, it’s the best part.

Virtual Book Launch

Hi,

I just launched the fifth book in the Real Estate Diva Mystery Series!

Since I don’t remember seeing you,  I created a virtual book signing with you in mind!  

And you can purchase Trash Out on Amazon.

That’s all, just a tour for you.  Thanks for your support!

Paperback 1 – iPad 0

Some days it’s hard to love my Kindle or in this case the iPad which is colorful and just like the kindle, mostly.

Sunday I wanted to sit outside to capture the last of the Autumn sun and read a book, just get into a book and read for as many uninterrupted hours as it takes to complete the book.

But for some reason my iPad charge had wound down. Just  as I was getting involved and figuring out the plot (the reason the characters and I were all together in the first place) – the 10% charge left notification came up.  I’d have to either leave the story, charge the iPad and admit defeat and sit in front of the football game playing in the living room and wait for it to charge enough so I could return outside.

Or get an extension cord.

My retreat spot was the hammock  on the deck.

No close outlet – it’s over in the corner of the deck.

I needed a long extension cord.

Of course now that I needed a long extension cord, I couldn’t find one.

There wasn’t one in the extension box over the dryer.

I couldn’t find one in the extension cord box in the hall closet.

I plugged in the charger and the iPad in the kitchen during my search figuring that I’d at least get back to a 25% charge during my search.

My husband, who first laughed at me, instructed me to wait until a commercial break, disappeared into the garage and returned carrying  an enormous, thick, green industrial strength extension cord,  He hacked through the olive grove blocking the outdoor outlet and proceeded to unwind the thing across the deck, around the pool and up over the top of the hammock to hang over my shoulder like an Amazon anaconda ready to attack.  I plugged the comparatively tiny  charger into the anaconda’s mouth and finally, continued with my book.

Paperback 1  iPad – 0

Working on your Novel this month?   Download the November Newbie Writers Podcasts where we discuss my progress and get tips to get you through the more difficult part of any novel – the middle.