Careful What You Wish For

Thought for the day:  Why are you trying so hard to fit in when you were born to stand out? [Oliver James]

Have you ever felt like you didn't quite belong? Like you were on the outside looking in?

Meet Cowboy. He belongs to a neighbor, but I think he wishes he were our cat. Most mornings, when I open our front door, he's right there, waiting for me. He immediately sits up and peers in at me. (Or at least, he looks in my general direction... as cross-eyed as he is, it's kinda hard to tell.) He looks pitiful, and dare I say ... hopeful?

Matter of fact, he spends a good bit of time lying or sitting on our front porch. Looking in. Looking pitiful. Or in our back yard, following us around or gazing into the house from out there. He could be running around the neighborhood, doing whatever it is outside cats are supposed do all day, but instead, he bides his time ... wastes his time ... looking in our windows. Wishing he were inside. Hoping his luck will change.

If wishes were horses, all beggars would ride; it wishes were fishes, we'd all have some fried.

He isn't our cat, but I guess you could say he's our collateral pet, just like the other critters who come to our place for a handout and a scratch behind the ear. We don't mind him hanging around, but there's something heart-breaking about the sight of him looking in our window so often.

His expression looks so ...  familiar ...

I'm pretty sure I know how he feels. I've been excluded a time or two.

And I've seen people with that same wistful expression, people who bide their time ... waste their time ... pining to be someone or somewhere they aren't. Essentially, they're wasting their lives on wishes for fishes instead of eating what they have right in front of them, or reaching for the doggone fishing rod. Rather than enjoying what IS, they waste their time wishing for what isn't.

Sometimes Cowboy and Dot look at each other through the window.

Sometimes he and Dash watch each other.

Cowboy wants to come inside so badly. He wishes it were so. We can see it in his face when he stares in the front door. We can see it in his face when he stares in our back sliding glass doors. We can see it when he tries to slip inside when we open the door, and when he rolls on the ground in front of us, doing his tricks and trying so very hard to please.

He wants to be part of the... in crowd.

                                                                     Ironically,

                                                  when we're on the OUTSIDE, we want IN.

                                     

                                             And when we're on the INSIDE, we want OUT.

Is happiness always just on the other side of a proverbial closed door? When we're different from everybody else, we wanta be the same, and when we're too much like everybody else, we yearn to be different. Ya know what? Inside yourself or outside, you never have to change what you see, only the way you see it.  [Thaddeus Golas]  We yam what we yam. And we yam pretty damned good.

Okay, so maybe you never felt like part of the in crowd. Big deal!

So what? Be a standout.

Outside may very well be the new in place. There's lots of us out  here.

 I was always looking outside myself for strength and confidence, but it comes from within. It is there all the time.  [Anna Freud]

So by all means, chase your dreams. Never give up on the possibilities. May we never be so blind that all we see is our own small world, nor so self-satisfied that all we are is all we ever hope to be. Keep striving. But... don't waste too much time making fruitless wishes.

Cowboy may wish to come in, but I have a feeling he wouldn't like the reality of this mean old lady trimming his nails every couple weeks. And no matter how much he begged, we'd never provide him with live birds or mice to supplement his diet, either.

                                   And you guys? Always, always be careful what you wish for...

Well, ladies and gentlemen, it's time for this old gal to take her annual leave of absence. I'll be vacating the blogosphere and focusing on some other things for the next month... like working on my current book, doing some dreaded spring cleaning, and editing a very talented writer's most recent book.  I'll seeya in May. I wish... you all the best. 

But, first... I couldn't resist.

 Even though I won't be here for next Wednesday's IWSG post, the May question kinda goes along with this wishful thinking post:

If you could use a wish to help you write just one scene/ chapter of your book, which one would it be?  

 See what I mean? That question was like made to accompany this post. My answer? If I'm gonna wish, I might as well wish big. (Insert deep breath here.) The ultimate wish fulfillment would be to write a scene... any scene... that would so capture the imagination and respect of readers, they'd tell all of their friends, You've gotta read this book!"

Yeah, that'd be cool, but in the meantime, I'm not holding my breath. If you haven't read either of my novels yet, here's a heads up: next week, Amazon will have both e-books on sale for the paltry sum of ninety-nine cents in both the U.S. and the U.K. Don't have a Kindle? No biggie. I hear Amazon has a FREE app that'll allow you to read e-books. (A left click on the book covers in the sidebar will deliver you directly to Amazon U.S.)

                         
                               Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

Keep the Change!

Thought for the day: In everyone's life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being.We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirits. [Albert Schweitzer]

Yep, it's that time again. Welcome to this month's edition of the Insecure Writer's Support Group meeting... er, virtual meeting, that is. Today, writers all over the world will be posting about the ups and downs, the highs and lows, the ins and outs... of writing. We'll celebrate... we'll complain... we'll commiserate and help rekindle those inner spirits. Whatever we need, this is the place to find it. Humble thanks and a jolly tip of the hat go to Alex Cavanaugh, our fearless ninja leader and the originator of this fine group, and to all of the other fine folks who've worked so hard to make it the huge success it is today. If you'd like to join (It's FREE!) or would like to read some of the other posts, please go HERE

On the writing front, progress has been glacially slow lately. Sales of my new book have been anemic; and reviews, practically non-existent. (sigh) Makes it a tad more difficult to stay focused and maintain enthusiasm about writing books two and three. But fear not. My enthusiasm will return. It always does. Now if only my damned muse would return from vacation...

Let's move right on to this month's question, shall we?

What are your ultimate writing goals, and how have they changed over time (if at all)?

When I was a senior in high school... you know, back in the Dark Ages... I contributed to and helped edit the school's literary magazine. After all these years, I still remember a poem my friend Bruce Troup wrote for it:

Change is never constant;

Constance never changes.

But all things change constantly.

Simple, yet profound, right? I guess that's why it's stuck with me for so long. 

Anyhow, to answer the question, of course my writing goals have changed. I used to think I was destined to be a great writer. Before I learned how to read, I made up the words and pretended to read books out loud. In second grade, a test we took to determine our potential career path (I kid you not!) said I'd be an author... and I believed it. In the summers, I concocted serialized fairy tales, and would sit in the shade of a tree and tell them to a group of neighborhood kids several afternoons a week. In fifth grade, filled with self-confidence, I entered an American Legion essay contest about Brotherhood...

[source: morguefile]

...and I LOST.

Talk about being one deflated puppy. Not even an Honorable Mention! I was crushed, because I'd worked so hard on that essay, and I thought it was so good...

PBBBBT! (That's the sound of my adolescent ego deflating.) Who was I trying to kid? I'd never be a writer.

Then my teacher, Mr. DeGrafft,  who was also one of the judges for the contest, took the time to tell me the judges loved my essay... but it didn't fit within the parameters of what the American Legion was looking for in a winning essay. They wanted rah-rah, Mom and apple pie feel-good declarations about our shared humanity and the inherent kindness of mankind.

 I, on the other hand, wrote about how people seemed to have an us vs. them mentality, so I thought the only thing that would lead to true brotherhood on our planet would be if we discovered a bigger adversary on another one.

Not exactly what they were looking for. But that wonderful teacher... that kind caring man...  rekindled my inner spirit by telling me why my essay didn't do well. He had so much confidence in me, he helped restore some of my confidence in myself. For that, I will always be grateful.

Since then, I've always been involved with some kind of writing, and like everyone else, my confidence levels ebb and flow. (Where's Mr. DeGrafft when ya need him?) Things might be at the ebb level now, but I'm pretty sure the drive will roll back in any day now...

So what's changed? I no longer believe I'm ever going to be a great writer. Nor do I dream about Pulitzer prizes and cheering crowds waiting for me at book signings. I don't expect to be accepted in every anthology I submit to, and I don't expect every story I send to a magazine to be published. Whether or not I ever had any innate talent is immaterial. I'm endlessly grateful for those teachers who instilled confidence in my writing and editing ability, but since I've gotten older, I've adjusted the bar to a more realistic level.

I write because I love to write, and I still love to spin a story. Do I still get discouraged? Sure, I do. But I'm a big girl now, (in more ways than one...) and I don't need affirmation and support like I did as a kid. (But I'd still like it every once in a while...)

That's why reviews matter so much to me. At their best, they show me that I've connected with another human being... and THAT is my overwhelming goal. When I feel a little low, I re-read some of the fantabulous reviews for Hot Flashes and Cold Lemonade, and I look at some of the wonderful emails readers have sent me...

and I smile with gratitude. Life is good... even if no alien forces have united us yet.

                                 Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

Keeping Count

Thought for the day:  Lots of people want to ride with you in the limo, but what you want is someone who will take the bus with you when the limo breaks down.  [Oprah Winfrey]

[courtesy of Morguefile]

Remember the simple innocence of childhood friendships? For me, part of those good old days entailed decorating a shoe box with lopsided construction paper hearts every Valentine's Day, cutting a big slit in the lid, and then sitting it on my school desk to collect cards from the other kids in my class. You know, back in the days when everybody was everybody else's ♪ tra-la ♫ best friend. 

Yeah, right.

It would have been really nice if it had worked that way. Truth is, not all kids got their shoe boxes stuffed full of cards. Some were ridiculed and shunned on the playground... and then horribly humiliated on Valentine's Day by how few cards made it into their boxes. That must have hurt. Kids crave a sense of belonging and self-worth, and for better or worse, they get a lot of that from how the other kids treat them. How many ♪ tra-la ♫ friends they have... or think they have... is terribly important to them.

You think that's why some people are so keen to amass a ton of ♪ tra-la ♫ friends on Facebook? I wonder. 

[image courtesy of Morguefile]

Now, don't get me wrong. I like making new friends as much as the next person. I'm one of those weirdos who strikes up conversations with complete strangers all the time. (Hey! Strangers are just friends we haven't met yet, right?) But I don't make ♪ tra-la ♫ friends indiscriminately on social media. Just because I always gave Valentine's Day cards to every kid in my class doesn't mean I have to say yes to everyone who approaches me on social media. 

Like that weirdo who said his hobby was collecting women. (Um, no thank you, I think I'll pass...) Or the despicable guy who slept with our friend's wife back in the sixties when he was deployed overseas with the military. (Did that guy really think I'd forgotten how much pain he caused...?) 

Are you a fan of Facebook? I must admit, I post on there from time to time... mostly punny stuff, things that tickle my funny bone, or info that I find particularly interesting. Can't say that I've ever announced to the world that I just ate a bowl of cereal for breakfast, or that I'm currently driving on I-85, though. (Who cares???) And I also like other posts from time to time, too. Again, it's mosty punny stuff, things that tickle my funny bone, or info that I find particularly interesting. But I, um, don't click like on my own posts. To me, that'd be like high-fiving myself. 

But how about today's kids? Being popular on social media is really important to them, and they all want the status of having BIG NUMBERS, so I don't know how much they discriminate. They want lots of friends, lots of likes. Being un-friended is a big deal, like a humiliating slap in the face. For youngsters, the whole experience can be wrapped in drama, and sometimes, in genuine tragedy. 

Life is an awful, ugly place to not have a friend.  [Sarah Dessen]

Author Medeia Sharif is well aware of how important social media are to young people these days, and it rightfully plays a vital role in her latest book. And guess what? You don't have to wait six months or more to read her new book, because it is being released... (ta DA!)

                          TODAY!!!!!!

Here's a little blurb to whet your appetite:

52 LIKES by Medeia Sharif

Cover Reveal, Evernight Teen, 2015

After a brutal rape and near-murder, Valerie wants to get past feelings of victimhood from both the assault and her history of being bullied. She’s plagued by not knowing the identity of her rapist and by the nasty rumors in school about that night. Valerie follows clues from ghostly entities, past victims of the rapist-murderer, contacting her through a social media site—why do all of their eerie photos have 52 likes under them? Their messages are leading her to the mystery man, although he’ll put up a fight to remain hidden.

Find Medeia – YA and MG Author

Blog   |   Twitter   |   Goodreads   |   Instagram   |   Amazon

Sounds good, doesn't it? It IS good. The lovely Medeia was kind enough to send me a copy last week. This is what I posted about the book on Goodreads:

What can I say about this book? I LIKED it; I reeeeally liked it. I think it's gonna hit a big fat bull's eye with its target teenaged market, but it's a book well worth reading for us (ahem) more mature folks, as well. 

The appeal for teens? The author zeroes in on what it's like to be a teenager in today's world, so kids will definitely be able to relate to the behavior and language of this book's characters. I must admit, I was a little taken aback at the first f-bomb I encountered, but hey! I suppose that IS the way some kids talk nowadays, whether we old effs (as in fogies) like it or not. Social media plays a vital role in this story, which is certainly something kids will understand. What's more, the potential danger of using social media recklessly is also a vital part of the story. Young people's eyes may roll or glaze over when we try to "warn" them about those dangers, but this book, while engrossing them in the story, allows them to reach that conclusion on their own. It teaches a very important lesson without waving an annoying know-it-all finger in their faces. (We ALL hate that, right?) Plus, there's the story itself. Rape and murder, pain and cruelty, and the meaning of true friendship... it's all in there. Oh, and how about some paranormal stuff, too, to stir the pot up even more? Yep, I think this is a book a lot of teens will love. Personally, I plan to buy it for my two teenaged granddaughters.

And for us older folks? It's absolutely eye-opening to see how cruel kids can be to each other. No wonder some kids hate to go to school. I had no idea...

Plus, there's the story. It's captivating, whether you're fourteen, forty, or (ahem) even older. I'd give it four and a half very enthusiastic stars, rounded up to five. Many thanks to the author for sending me a copy for review prior to publication. The rest of you can get YOUR copy on January 16th!
***

Um yeah, that's TODAY! 

Have a terrific weekend, y'all. Maybe we'll cross paths on Facebook this weekend. There's a real good chance I'll be having breakfast... and will be riding on I-85. Just in case you wanted to know...

                               Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

That Low-Down Lying Mirror

Thought for the day:  Who are we? The person the world sees, or the person we are inside?

"Will the real John Finklestein ... please ... stand ... up."

Remember that old TV show? It was called "To Tell the Truth", and after host Bud Collyer said that, the three contestants would pretend to stand up-sit down-stand up again, until the REAL John Finklestein finally stood up and grinned at the applauding panelists.

If somebody told the "real Susan" to stand up, to (ahem) tell the truth, I believe I'd have to tell that old lady in the mirror to stay where she is. Freeze! Don't even think about getting up.

How about you? What do you see when you look into a mirror? Does the face looking back at you match the self-image you carry around in your head? Or have you begun to recognize glimpses of your parent, or even worse, your grandparent, peering back at you through the looking glass? (Beam me up, Alice!)

Ah, don't sweat it. Happens to the best of us. Best way to avoid the annoying inconsistency is to stay away from mirrors as much as possible. Besides, they lie, you know. Especially the full-length ones in clothing store dressing rooms. (I suspect someone actually puts fun house mirrors in those places just to screw with our heads.)

I say ... embrace your youthful spirit and inner child. So what if the image in the mirror doesn't agree with what you feel?  Don't let a few wrinkles and sags get you down. (Because it's too darned hard to get back up again!) Laugh. Learn. Play. Enjoy. Carpe the hell out of the diem. 

Dare to daydream.

Have you ever gone to a high school reunion? It's true what they say. My hubby and I went to one about eighteen years ago, and you know, those other people were so old ... 

Reminds me of the story about the gal who went to a new dentist for the first time. While in the waiting room, she noticed his diploma hanging on the wall, and the name on it made her think of a handsome heartthrob with the same name that had been in her high school class. When she saw him, though, she decided he was much too old to have been her classmate. Even so, she asked if he'd attended her high school. He did. "What year did you graduate?" she asked.  "Fifty-nine," he said. "I was in your class!" she exclaimed. He looked at her closely. Then, as she described it, that ugly, wrinkled, old, fat, bald, gray, decrepit SOB asked, "What did you teach?"

Ah, if only the world could see us as we see ourselves, huh? Obviously, these critters feel right at home with their self-images ..

So, what's the real you look like? I'm kinda like that pelican with the stilts. I might be a little clumsy, and I may not be as pink and pretty as the flamingos around me, but I sure am having fun!

                                       Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

Since I've posted this video in the past, some of you have already seen it, but whenever I think about growing older, this video pops into my mind, so I'll share it again for you new followers. Is there a song that makes you feel young? That makes you want to crank up the volume and sing along whenever you hear it? Born to Be Wild is one of those songs for me. Alas, this is a more suitable version for me these days: