I’m within an hour of the end of two days off. Yesterday I got a fair bit of work done on my manuscript – almost fifteen pages edited, which for me is flying through. I managed to take the evening off from everything and just watch an episode of “Breaking Bad.” I’ve only watched two so far – still wondering what all the hype’s about.
Then today I was woken up early with a phone call – Chris was sick at school and they couldn’t reach his dad. So I texted my ex, got up, delivered the papers, had a piece of toast and lay on the couch … and proceeded to sleep most of the day away. No editing accomplished.
Child abuse is a subject that keeps coming up around me of late, and not only because I’ve recently re-released my semi-biographical story, “Boy Series – One through…” A few minutes ago a glimpsed on Facebook a photo which made me want to throw up. I refuse to describe it – it’s one of those things that once seen cannot be unseen, and I’m sure I will have nightmares because of it. It’s worse in my mind than anything I could have imagined by myself, and in many ways, so is my series.
I’ve made the decision for a few reasons, to reveal the man behind the story. It’s not a big secret, and I don’t claim to be the one-and-only person to know… but I think having all the information that I’ve researched in one place will make the true story that much more interesting. I’ve been working, therefore, to compile links to interviews and decide what of his work might be most relevant to the story of his life. Strangely, something he said in one of the interviews I read last night cemented the decision in my mind to do this – it was almost as though I received a sign to say that it’s okay to go ahead.
The excerpt from the interview spoke of a song that he wrote about the tragedy of war. He has written several. He said that, (paraphrased) although there is little we can do about it, just spreading awareness that it exists and what it is like for those who are a part of it, whether it is their own decision to be or not, might cause someone to act differently.
And so I believe it is the same for my story of abuse. The more we are aware that it happens, even in our own neighbourhoods, the more we may look for the signs. Though we may not be able to help all of the children everywhere who suffer, if we can be kind to a child who we think may be abused, it might mean the world to that one child.
To Nav, John, Willow, and to all the people who had a hard time reading my series, I thank you for your perseverance. It was as heartbreaking to write as it is to read, just as it was for me to hear of it originally. I hope you’ll all stick around to learn the truth; to see that the man who was the boy has done well for himself despite the odds, even though he still bears the scars of his own, wretched war.
There are reasons why unpublished authors don’t walk around telling people they’re writing a novel. First and foremost is the puzzled, glazed-over expression that immediately comes over the other person’s face, as they think to themselves, What kind of a flake am I talking to? Then quickly on the heels of that comes the hasty change-of-subject or the hands-behind-the-back stroll-away as they whistle and hope the author doesn’t follow them all the way home.
But it comes to something when an novelist’s family members don’t even take him/her seriously.
Are you a novelist? Do you ever hear your significant other say, over the phone, thinking you’re not listening, “Oh yeah, it’s just a hobby,” regarding your writing? Does the person supposedly looking after your kids allow them to come and ask you questions while you’re trying to work? Do people wander in to ask you if you’d like coffee while you’re trying to write?
It’s said that marketing a book is harder than writing, but on some days I seriously wonder. It takes a great deal of concentration to write something as complicated as a novel. There are many things to keep track of, characters to write and to get into, believe it or not. Getting into a character’s head so that his or her voice comes through well takes time.
So if you walk in on a working author to ask if he/she wants a cup of coffee (the answer is no) and he/she turns to you slowly and asks you in return if you’d care to have your fingernails removed with a screwdriver, chances are the author is in the middle of a torture scene and it has nothing to do with you. Still, back away with your hands behind your back and try to remember next time, IT’S NOT JUST A HOBBY!
How many times can I be hit over the head by something obvious before it sinks in? One might hope being knocked out once would be enough. Not so much for some.
I try to live by the philosophy that to expect nothing means never being disappointed. Plans go awry, the weather won’t co-operate, machinery breaks down – the list is just about endless. In fact I’ve come to the conclusion that the only thing I can reasonably expect is that the sun will come up every morning. Let’s face it – if the sun doesn’t live up to its promise, none of this will likely matter anyway.
But it’s in the area of promises where I consistently fail: this is what I need to stop banging my head against. When someone says they’ll do something and then, for whatever reason, backs out (in my case it’s usually my ex with his promise to take the kids until work gets in the way) the results on the psyche and the blood pressure can be devastating.
I have made some progress, however, with my philosophy. I’ve learned not to expect anything of anyone unless they make a promise. While it may seem sad on the surface, if you really think about it, it’s obvious. To expect something of someone just because it’s what you would do is silly. We’re all different. Just because I would drive a friend to the airport simply because they are my friend and they are in need, doesn’t necessarily mean they would do the same for me. So if I count on it happening and end up missing my plane, do I blame them? No. I blame myself.
This thread of thought came up because twice now, in my life, I’ve been in a position where two of my friends were having a fight. I had no argument with either of them, so I decided to stay out of it both times. In both cases, however, one friend decided that I should have stuck up for them. It’s what they would have done. It’s what a friend would do, they both said. In my view however, if someone picks a fight, they’d better know what they’re getting into and know they can handle it themselves before they begin. It’s not my fault that they had the fight – I had nothing to do with it. If I get into the middle of someone else’s fistfight chances are I’ll be the one who’s hurt – why should an argument be any different? So I sat back, let the dust settle, and then in both cases one of the parties decided that if I was friends with the enemy I couldn’t be friends with them. They demanded I be on their side, or I couldn’t be their friend any more. Guess which friend I chose to stick with? Yes, in both cases it was the one who expected nothing from me but their continued friendship.
Just because I never expect anything of anyone, doesn’t mean that everyone around me is beyond hope. If I simply hope that they will do things for me, hope that they will be honest with me and respect me, then when they do I can be pleasantly surprised and if they don’t, well, I wasn’t hanging my own choices and responsibilities on them anyway.
Now all I have to do is learn to hope that my ex will live up to his end of the bargain and take the kids every other weekend, instead of expecting it. I have to stop hitting myself over the head.
I consider myself a fairly observant person. I’m certainly aware of what works and what doesn’t, most of the time. It’s taken me a year on WordPress however, to figure out a few things concerning how to go about getting followers, and how to keep them engaged.
Some of my recent realisations came about as a result of Opinionated Man’s posts and the comments we’ve shared between us, and also because of my struggle to get people to read and follow my fiction blog. It’s here: http://lindaghillfiction.wordpress.com/ by the way, in case you’re interested.
I think half the key to building a following on WordPress is in the comments themselves. Commenting will let people know you’re invested in what you write, and that you care what people think about what you write. It’s what separates your blog from other media – newspapers and the like – which give little chance to allow the reader to express his or her thoughts on the topic. So what is the other half?
This is where I’ve picked up what I think is the problem I’m having with my fiction blog. It’s the content. Not that my fiction is necessarily bad, mind you, (go to http://lindaghillfiction.wordpress.com/ to decide for yourself) but unless you’re looking to read fiction, you’re not going to look up that particular blog.
I was advised when I first began at WordPress to decide on a theme for my blog. I started out, nevertheless, with a mish-mash of parenting, articles about life in general, as well as fiction and poetry. I didn’t notice much of a difference in who followed my blog after I started my fiction blog (at http://lindaghillfiction.wordpress.com/ ), but even though I let people know it existed, people rarely visited it. The realisation I’ve come to is that my fiction is probably not going to change anyone’s life.
When I write about the trials and tribulations of parenting, particularly two special needs children, people want to know what I’ve learned. When I talk about being part of the sandwich generation, people out there can relate. My readers come to me because they’re hoping to share something. They’re hoping they may be able to offer suggestions (the comments again) or they’re looking to find a fellow sufferer in me, to possibly allow themselves to feel less alone.
My point in all this is, when I blog, I have an audience. Who my audience is will depend on what I write. If I blog about something no one can relate to, I can’t expect to have anyone follow me; I can’t expect comments, and comments are what keep people engaged.
My fiction blog? It’s another kettle of fish altogether. Fiction, without a cover blurb, is an unknown entity until people begin to read it. On top of that, I probably could have chosen a better title. I’ve learned that a blog’s moniker can seriously narrow an audience. A title like “Dark Fiction of the Occult” (not mine) isn’t going to catch the attention of people looking for chicklit. The title on my blog doesn’t say anything about fiction whatsoever. I’m currently in the middle of posting a series (which is really great – you should go read it at http://lindaghillfiction.wordpress.com/ ) but as soon as it’s finished I will perform a complete revamp. As it is, it could easily be mistaken as a foodie site.
Go ahead and learn from my mistake. I’m humble enough. But most of all encourage comments and write in a way that relates to your audience. If you want followers, don’t talk about yourself in a way that narrows your post so much that it can only possibly relate to you.
WordPress is a wonderful, interactive site if you want it to be. If you want followers, give them something they want to follow – and for goodness sakes, follow them back and comment on their sites too!
(Note: All mentions of my fiction blog in this post are strictly in the interest of humour. In no way was this post written in order to promote http://lindaghillfiction.wordpress.com/ . Thank you for reading.)
In light of recent events, most of which include having my mother live with me for more than a week while she waits for her room in the retirement home to be ready, I’ve been thinking about the saying: “Be nice to your kids – they may be looking after you one day.” And the conclusion I’ve come to is, depending on your nature, chances are it’s not going to matter whether or not they were nice to you. You’ll probably do it anyway.
I moved out of my mother’s home at the tender age of sixteen because I couldn’t stand living with her anymore. We’ve never been what you could call friends – she’s of the old school way of thinking that she’s not my friend, she’s my mother. She said so many times when I was a kid. In more recent times, when she has come to stay with me and the kids it’s been hell – she can’t communicate with Alex and he takes advantage of the fact that she can’t effectively explain to him why he shouldn’t do the annoying things he does: he laughs at her when she’s angry. I, usually, end up breaking up the fight as I might between two siblings.
And yet despite all this, I find myself calm now. I have more patience than I’ve ever had. She’s going through a transition in her life that is probably irreversible – going from living alone for the past 30 years, on and off, to going into a place that is scary in that it’s an unknown entity.
It’s funny the things I’ve found myself being able to handle when put to the test. Whether or not my mother and I have ever been able to get along, let alone live together, is put aside – it’s become irrelevant. The more difficult and challenging things get, the more I’m able to cope with. I just take it one step at a time.
I would wish what I’m going through right now on anyone – and yet I wouldn’t. Yes, it’s hard. But it’s teaching me something – that whatever I may have to deal with, my nature will allow me to deal.
Still, it doesn’t hurt to be nice to your kids. And while you’re at it, help them to discover their true nature.
Someone, not that long ago, asked me what the difference is between blogging and journaling. I had to think about it. I love blogging because it allows me to put in black and white my thoughts, my feelings. I can show you (my followers) what I see, both by description and in pictures. I can share as much or as little of my life as I wish.
It’s like having a box – a full box – that only I can peek into. I can release the contents of my box or I can keep them hidden. There are things in my box which I will never tell – that’s one of the drawbacks of using my real name. But if I was to go undercover of a pseudonym, would I share then? Maybe. Maybe not. Sometimes I think about saying a certain thing and I’ll even sometimes type it. But then I’ll see it in the preview and I’ll cringe, or I’ll just shake my head and go back to remove it.
I think that’s the difference between blogging and journaling. If I was writing a journal I might leave it all in. All the dirt, the stuff that makes me red in the face and the things that I don’t want my friends and family to read. Whether it’s personal to me or personal to them, I don’t want them to know everything I’m thinking. Who would?
I also love my audience. Not necessarily because I want to be read, but because I enjoy the interaction. I don’t blog for likes (I know I’ve mentioned this before, but this is stream of consciousness – shoot me), I blog for our shared experience. I write to know I’m not alone and to let others know they’re not alone in our experiences of life.
We’ve all felt cold, we’ve all known pain, whether it be physical or emotional – we all know what water tastes like. Can we explain it all? No. But if enough words go out there, maybe, just maybe, a sentence or two will connect with us, and so we can say to one another: Yes! That’s exactly it!
That’s the best feeling of all.
I’m glad I blog. I have a journal as well on LiveJournal, which only about three people read. It’s also fun. It’s more personal – but I don’t have to worry about anyone I know coming across it.
I love my followers here. I wouldn’t give them up – not even for a journal.
P.S. I’m not online today, but I’ll answer all your comments when I come back tomorrow night.
When I came across this statement (above) on Facebook it made me think. And then it made me think some more.
My first reaction was to recognize that I say this all the time: Everything happens for a reason. And while I do believe somewhere deep inside that it does, I believe even more the two word statement, everything happens. The other saying I often use is, Shit happens and there’s nothing anybody can do about it, which is probably the more accurate of the two. I don’t say it often to anyone but myself however, since it’s not very consoling.
Saying everything happens for a reason is a way to make me feel like I’m in control of a situation I have no control over. By considering what happened, whatever it is, and going through everything that happened as a result can be comforting, especially if the results were in some way positive. And let’s face it – you can always find something positive in something awful if you look hard enough. While it may not make up for the bad thing that happened, it’s better than nothing.
I have to realize, in the end, that there are things that are beyond my control. Whether I look for the good in them or not, they happen. Am I lying to someone when I console them with the statement above? I don’t think so, not if I can help them to find a glimmer where there would otherwise be a lack of hope.
Whether or not everything happens for a reason, you can decide for yourself. But to me it seems that simply saying “Everything happens,” is freeing. It takes the burden away of trying to control that which is out of my hands.
I’ll still look for silver linings, and I probably still won’t be telling people that shit happens and there’s nothing they can do about it. But I’ll be thinking it, now more than ever.
1. It’s never too late to join in, since the “Jot it” part of JusJoJan means that anything you jot down, anywhere (it doesn’t have to be a post) counts as a “Jot.” If it makes it to WordPress that day, great! If it waits a week to get from the sticky note to your screen, no problem!
2. If you write a JusJoJan post on your blog, you can ping it back to the above link to make sure everyone participating knows where to find it.
3. Write anything!
4. Have fun!
I came across an article today which drives home the importance of editing and putting out one’s absolute best work when self-publishing. I would have re-blogged, but that wasn’t an option.
This: http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2014/01/28/follow-up-on-self-publishing-readers-are-not-good-gatekeepers/ is the article, by Chuck Wendig. In it, he explains how self-publishing is becoming a decent and viable option to traditional means, and how that could change if self-published authors present sub-par efforts to the reading public. It’s an excellent article. You should read it, even if you’re not an author.
It must be incredibly frustrating to lose one’s memory. We’ve all been there. It’s like when you’re having a pleasant conversation with a friend and something happens to distract you, and when you turn back to continue talking, you can’t remember what you were discussing.
For my mother, at almost 84 years of age, it’s gone far beyond. It started with the memory, then progressed to logic. For instance, last weekend I came down the stairs to find her trying to drag Alex into the next room by the hand. When I asked her what she was doing, she said he’d been bugging the hell out of her, screaming in her ear but now she was trying to get him into the next room to hook him up to his feeding pump.
“It doesn’t matter what I do,” she said. “I try ignoring him, but whenever I walk away he follows me.”
“So, why are you trying to drag him?” I asked.
“Because when I ask him, he won’t come with me,” she answered. “He won’t do anything I ask him.”
“So just walk away… he’ll follow you…”
I waited for her to get it, but she didn’t–not even when she walked into the room where his feeding pump was, and he followed her.
Most of the time, all I can do is roll my eyes.
Now, however, she’s in the hospital with pneumonia. They’re talking about letting her out on Wednesday, but her memory has begun to get so bad that she can’t remember what day it is. Not a good combination when she has meds to take.
I’m going to have to seriously start looking into retirement homes, before I end up in the hospital, sick with stress. That I’m going to have to figure out a way to look after her is precisely why I wanted to have more than one child: I didn’t expect two of them would probably never be independent, let alone unable to help with my care when I get to my mother’s age. Government and community run home care is going to be an even worse state than it is now; I’m at the tail end of the baby boom, and resources and funds will surely be depleted.
Now, where was I? Oh yes. Memory. If I leave my mother on her own I’m afraid she’ll under- or over-medicate herself. Just last weekend, she forgot it was still Saturday and she took Sunday’s pills as well. She needs supervision. There’s no way Alex would let her get a moment’s rest here – so what do I do? I’m only one person. I can ask my friend, John, to help out, but he has a life and a job. I need a babysitter for my mother.
lindaghill.com 