I’m really amazed at how these turned out. The colour seems to depend on how much light is in the frame when I take the shot. Taken with my LG Smart Phone, through the window; these are basically pictures of where I was standing when I took the photo the other night of the icicles on my house. Taken tonight:
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.
If you’re wondering about the “Part Two” in the title, and you’re new around here, you can find my original post on this subject here: https://lindaghill.wordpress.com/2013/05/21/the-future-of-publishing-crap/
Before I started writing poetry, I hated reading it. Half the time I found it boring, and the other half I simply didn’t ‘get.’ It was unexciting and confusing. When I came across it in the middle of a novel (Lord of the Rings is a perfect example) I skipped over it or skimmed it.
What I realized, however, the first time I wrote a poem, was that it’s a way of drawing a mental image on paper. Unlike fiction, in poetry anything goes and no one is going to question whether or not a heart can sing, or a colour can have a scent. Good poetry can connect people on a deep level: through senses.
In my experience with poetry since I started to write it, I’ve never managed to accomplish writing in any of the dozens if not hundreds of forms, other than a couple of haiku. The idea of following a rhyming scheme or a particular metre hurts my brain in ways that cease to make the writing of a poem pleasant. Occasionally I’ll write something that actually rhymes, and I do try to keep to some type of rhythm – mostly I’m scribbling to the beat of my own drummer – but the importance, to me, is getting the mood and the sensation across to my reader.
There are people out there who won’t read free verse poetry; some even believe that it’s hack writing, and turn their nose up at it. There are those who will read it and enjoy it, but never practice writing it.
I’ve learned that poetry, like music, is a universal. Well written, it can convey the human condition in ways that no other art form can. It speaks to our emotions, our senses, and connects our life experiences.
I’d like to know what you think: what is most important to you? What is your criteria for reading poetry, or for writing it? Is it the feeling, or making sure it rhymes? When you come across it in the middle of a novel, do you skip it, or do you read it and re-read it to get the full meaning?
Expound at will, and feel free to illustrate your thoughts in poetry, in the comments! Or just tell it like you see it. I want to hear from you!
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Post on your site, and join Just Jot it January. The rules are easy!
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!
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.
The sandwich generation strikes again.
Why is Mickey Mouse Clubhouse playing on my television screen?
Because it’s a snow day.
Why is it a snow day?
Because the plows haven’t been out yet, so the buses aren’t running.
Why haven’t the plows been out? This is Canada!! We get snow!!!
Purportedly, the town I’m in hasn’t seen a real winter in five years. I haven’t been here that long, but I can say that out of three green Christmases I’ve experienced in my lifetime, two have been here in the last four years. So, okay. I get it. They probably didn’t budget for a real winter here this year.
But come on! The equipment is there – I’ve seen it. It came by yesterday. The staff has been hired … look out the window, city snow removal people! There are kids who really REALLY want to go to school! I can tell by the completely-absorbed-in-tv-and-computer-look on my little darling’s face that he can’t wait…
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Post on your site, and join Just Jot it January. The rules are easy!
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 love photography. Good photography. I wish I had the talent I see in so many others.
But I’ve been told by one of the best I know that it’s okay to post my amateur attempts, so here is mine for today.
Alex and I were out shoveling at dusk tonight when I took this picture of my house. There’s just something about the quiet of this particular time of day, when it’s snowing softly as it was. There was very little wind and the air, though cold, was pleasant. Snow insulates: noise is muffled, and the blue of the sky reflects off the snow and creates a feeling of enclosure, as though the sky is resting upon the shoulders of the world.
I’m my own worst enemy in a few different ways, but none more than the fact that I have a hard time asking for help. Actually, let me be a little more specific: I’m okay asking for small favours, but if I think I might put anyone else out of their way, I usually do whatever it is that needs to be done myself.
I think this is a common problem with many people. For some it’s because they wish to be independent, and there’s nothing wrong with that – unless it gets to the point where they are stretching themselves too thin. Then there are the jobs to be done that are so complicated that it takes longer to explain how to do them than to do it ourselves. That, too, is an understandable reason not to ask for help.
Then there are people who are already stretched too thin, like me. When I think about asking someone else to help me, I tend to put myself in their shoes, which makes me ask myself, what if they were asking me to do this task? Being over-worked and overwhelmed already, I might think it a burden to be asked to do more. Consequently, many times I don’t ask for help.
I’m learning though. Since the father of my kids moved away, I’ve had an average of only one weekend out of every three without the kids. I do, however, have a very good friend who constantly offers to help me out, and most of the time I say yes. Although he says he doesn’t feel taken for granted, I still feel bad for not doing more for him in return. Again, there’s the ‘stretched-too-thin’ thing pulling me mentally if not physically in every direction.
I’d like to say a very public ‘thank you’ here to him, for all that he does for me. Thank you, John. I truly don’t know what I’d do without you. I know you say I should feel free to ask when I need help … know that I’m doing my best. And next time I stomp down the stairs in a very bitchy mood, know it’s only my own shortcomings – it’s not you, it’s me.
Back to addressing the rest of the people reading this.
I’m sure there are other people out there with problems asking for help. Do you try to overcome it? Have you succeeded? If so, how? I’d love some feedback on this.
Thanks.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Post on your site, and join Just Jot it January. The rules are easy!
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!
Music.
Have you ever heard a song on the radio that you haven’t heard in years, but that you once knew so well you could sing in your sleep? It’s fascinating to me the process in which a song like that comes back to me, note by note, lyric by lyric. I find myself singing along and remembering AS I SING. Whenever that happens, I can’t help but smile to myself at the sensation of knowing as I go.
The songs I remember from my childhood are the ones my parents listened to. I, at the time, was too young to discover anything for myself. This was before I had even been to a Disney movie, and it was long before home videos.
My mother and her best friend used to listen to Tom Jones and Engelbert Humperdinck (who I’ve actually seen in concert as an adult and discovered he has an absolutely amazing voice, much to my surprise), and my dad listened to Chet Atkins. He loved the guitar.
What are your earliest memories of music? Are they memories of your own favorites, or someone else’s?
Face in Snow
Can you see the face on the wall? He’s wearing a scarf and a hat.
I’m getting tired of talking about this white stuff, but I did want to share what I saw out my back door this morning.
It’s knee-deep in spots on my paper route.
That’s my jot for now.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Post on your site, and join Just Jot it January. The rules are easy!
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!
Memories. They go back, if we’re lucky, to our early childhood. I remember waking up in the summer to hear my dad mowing the grass, or heading out to play golf. I remember playing with Barbies – I had this really cool miniature floor lamp that plugged in to a battery. I’d set up a living room in the 18″x18″x18″ cupboard in my parents’ coffee table for my dolls and turn on the light and close the door. Now that was exciting for about 30 seconds.
One of my earliest memories of television though, apart from the show “Laugh-In,” is a trailer for a movie, called What Do You Say To A Naked Lady? Thanks to Youtube, I can revisit that disturbing memory.
Allow me to share it with you:
What’s your earliest memory, disturbing or otherwise?
lindaghill.com 