Determination
Aunt Nora married young, raised a family, buried a husband, sold a farm, and in her twilight years wanted to acquire something she'd missed...her education. When she announced she was going back for her GED, friends and family generally heard this with hidden smiles or raised eyebrows. The way Nora looked at it, she would be 76 years old anyway, might as well arrive at that birthday milestone a little smarter.
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I was never extremely close to her - liked her, don't get me wrong, but she was one of several much older Indian females in the family who bossed or babysat me, and while I enjoyed her company, I wasn't fond of feeding the chickens or gathering eggs. Chickens pooped too much and were insidious peckers, and once I had seen one of them drop an egg out of its butt, I'd refused to eat hen fruit for some time.
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Little did I know that decades later I would discover something else about Nora - years after she'd passed away, I found out she loved writing and researching family history. She kept in touch with a cousin near her age who'd been adopted and moved to the east coast. Somehow, thanks to the internet and inquisitive minds, I connected with that older woman's daughter, and we've shared photos and information. Annmarie sent me the pic above of Aunt Nora with my great-great grandmother, Alice (Nora's mom), who used to make me drink the most godawful herbal teas whenever I was sick. Indian medicine, don't ya know?
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It's strange, the things we remember from childhood. Stranger still are speculations as to what my descendants will say about me - lol. They won't have to point to my kids and say that I carried them across state lines - literally - walking with a covered wagon, surviving yellow fever, a husband drowning in his twenties, leaving me with three babies, which is what happened to Grandmother Margaret, to the left. They won't be able to bring up the American Civil War, or even Viet Nam, other than to mention I was drafted (Uncle Sam thought I was male, not female, until I showed up in a mini skirt for the physical).
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On days that I whine about how bad I feel or that I have a case of writer's block, during nights when I can't seem to stop writing on what promises to be utter crap that nobody will buy, occasionally I think of the women who walked different paths but had similar dreams of success, ones who loved the written word.
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And I know that while I wouldn't trade places with any of them for all the book contracts in the world, I envy them the raw determination that must've fed their souls, the sheer will power to get up every morning to do what had to be done....
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...without benefit of Starbucks, Sara Lee, Microsoft, Polaroid, or Vera Wang flip flops, which feel great, by the way.
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Here's hoping you all have a good week and find strength you didn't realize (or forgot) you had. Happy writing,
~Sunny Lyn
Labels: family
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People I Love
Friend and fellow author Liz Wolfe just made my day sending me this (says she got it off of Google, so there's your credit if it's needed). It reminded her (and me) of a marvelous Romantic Times Booklovers Convention in Houston, summer of 2007, I believe. The Women of Wit were there with exception of ONE out of six...and we all initially met at eharlequin.com in "The Bat Cave", so...appropriate, n'est pa?
I don't think I have enjoyed a conference so much, other than maybe RWA Reno of 2005. I ADORE my critique partners, and there we were - Liz, T, Lex, Me, and Ann. There were paper peckers, lots of wine, a few cigarettes, and more than one sleepless night involved...for about a week. And OMG what fun.
Anyway - THANK YOU, LIZ.
Here's a cover of one of her books, by the way. She's a hoot to read - love her.
I also want to draw your attention to a loved one who writes better than his mother. Ya can't tell we're cut from close to the same cloth, can ya? - lol - This young man won his first major writer's award when he was 16 yrs old and had a senior editor from Bantam, no less, asking him for books. Did he ever submit? Hell, no. But he got asked, and he held his own at the conferences where he attend with his mom.
He was my traveling buddy, and we had a blast every time. He doesn't have traffic to his blog because he doesn't go blogging much, he doesn't advertise, and few people know he's even a writer, but I'm "outting him" so to speak if you'd just like to go say hello to the guy you've heard about from me for so many years. He's at amamankhet.blogspot.com and if you see this strange drawing he did of himself a few years ago, you'll know you've arrived. Some artists go through a Monet phase - mine went through a Kevorkian one (hey, ole Jack wasn't bad if you're into modern).
I'm sorry to see the passing of Michael Jackson (okay, he was weird, but he was talented, OMG), Farrah Fawcett, and Ed McMahon. And now there are conflicting reports as to whether or not Jeff Goldblum has fallen to his demise in New Zealand, and I HOPE TO GOD that that one is just a false rumor.
Anyway - I'm in a hearts and flowers kinda mood end of this week, for some reason. I'm not drunk, so I won't be disrobing, and not everyone will become my friend, but I am definitely going through some sort of warm and runny affliction that maybe will end soon, so I'll be back to my old acerbic self.
Till then...loves you...
~ Sunny Lyn
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friends & early summer funnies
CJ sent me something that made me smile today. It's been "one of those weeks" for a couple of my friends. I mean, I grouch about having to eat spicy food, but some of these gals are really having problems, so...here's a heart for CJ and the other two and anyone else who just wants one. You know who you are.
Why Men Shouldn't Take MessagesGotta have something funny today, though - just gotta. Michael in NY sent this one, and I've been cracking up ever since.
Mary Ellen sent me some funnies, but I can't copy and paste them in blogger...again. So I'll just wave HI to her and send a raspberry to Blogger.
---addendum---Just because I'm too lazy to create a newer blog post. Storms raged through here last night, and we were without electricity for about 8 hours or so. Winds took off the top of a tree across the street, and #1 Son went over in the rain to help move the sucker. Fire truck showed up - 4 beefy firemen. Landlord's handyman drove up to help. Of course, he never says thanks, and the whole time this guy is just bitching about how he'd be going 'round and round' with the landlord if that tree had hit his car. Car was fine. I don't believe there's an "act of God" clause in his renter's contract, though, and his "round and round" would have lasted maybe one round - lol - but oh, well. Just wanted friends who lurk to know that we're okay. No damage here, thank goodness, but a lot of smaller tree limbs and leaves were sacrificed during the course of an hour and a half.**********Hugs, everybody.
~ Sunny Lyn
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It Ain't Easy Bein' Me
I love my kids - let's get that out there. Today, I'd like to whack them upside the head. Temps are supposed to hit 100 without the heat index, and I have 4 loads of whites to do (HOT water - bleach type stuff). 13 total loads. I was up until 4 am doing laundry so The Girl would have her new clothes for work. Went into their bedroom to see why she was so desperate for clothing and hauled out enough for 4 trips. So my day started off staring at...
2 loads of jeans
2 loads of whites
4 loads of colors
2 loads of towels
2 loads of sheets (white)
1 load of dog bedding
Then there's the food issue. I'm trying to lose weight (yah, who isn't, right), and I'd like nothing but a greasy cheeseburger if I can't eat a salad, but I'm flexible. #1 DIL cooks spaghetti, egg rolls, and chocolate chip cookies...all marvelous, but that's it. #1 Son is a terrific cook, but I can't convince him we're Creek & Cherokee...feather Indian, not dot. If I have to eat lamb with masalas, curries, or black cumin more than once a week, I'm gonna shove a zucchini up someone's ass.
I love doing laundry - I'm just weird like that, but 13 friggin' loads ain't my idea of a great day. I'm also trying to get The Kids into the kitchen more often. Trouble is, nobody seems to know how to load and unload the dishwasher, and then there's the food issue. Cook me a goddamned taco or burger once or twice a week if you're not into chicken salad or shrimp fettucine Alfredo. Take me to Long John Silver's or Captain D's. Arby's will do. Give me a SALAD of ANY kind. Just don't approach a semi-vegetarian with lamb very often, and lay off the friggin' spices. (We won't discuss how Mama feels about Roti or Paratha. I'd rather eat chalk.)
Ya know, what goes in must come out, and it seeps through our pores. A guy passed me on the street last week and said hello in Hindi without even looking up.
Rant over. I'm gonna make a salad with garlic bread and bone up on Italian. Isn't variety the cumin of life?
Okay, rant over. It's time to add bleach to the current wash.
See you 'round the writers' block.
~ Sunny Lyn
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Upcoming contest and opportunities for writers:
Anyone besides me having trouble copying and pasting stuff into their blog on Blogger? This is driving me NUTS.
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Had a couple of contests to share for whoever is interested. These were in Cindi Myers's newsletter last week. Dorchester is having one - info can be found at
http://www.dorchester.com/contests/html*********
Torquere Press is launching a new penny-dreadful type line of pulp fiction, and you can check them out under submissions at
http://www.torquerepress.com/*********
Veteran editor and author Leslie Wainger is teaching a class for the Kiss of Death Chapter of RWA in July. Info can be found at
http://www.rwamysterysuspense.org/*********
Thanks to Janet for today's cartoon. *ggg*
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See ya'll around the writers' block,
~ Sunny Lyn
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Still Trying To Make Sense of This A Month Later
The victims were a woman and her 9-yr-old daughter who were standing in their own front yard when this guy came bearing down upon them before sliding into his own house. He's already been given his 6th DUI and he was driving the company car. The mother threw herself on top of her child when she saw him careening down the street, headed for them. Child lost a tooth and sustained a scrape on the head. The mother lost her life. She was a friend and the mother of three...the youngest was 2 months old and still breast-feeding.
I don't like to "throw stones", but I feel that the company who hired him should be held accountable as well. They gave him a job and a company vehicle--surely, they pulled credit files, police records/traffic violations, things like that, no?
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Life's too short anyway. Don't want to spend it grieving and complaining, but damn, damn, damn, damn, damn. Wish those little girls all got to know their mother.
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I'm a ghoul - I like my mysteries, suspense, thrillers, and even horror at times, but I gotta have my doses of romance, chick stuff, and feel-good slice-of-life books as well. I like knowing in my gut that Stephen King and Dean Koontz attend birthday parties and get laid, that even Ted Bundy had a mother. I can't wait to see Meryl Streep as Julia Child in the upcoming movie "Julie & Julia". I may not understand a lot of things, but I know what makes it all easier to digest. Hope. Variety. Possibilities. That a little baby, a 5-yr-old, and a 9-yr-old may indeed have some motherly type, if not Gwen, adjusting their veils when/if they marry and that 12-step programs or jail or death await careless drunks, that as long as we're breathing we have the chance to 'get it right'.
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I also take comfort in Jane Wagner quotes, such as this one: The ability to delude yourself may be an important survival tool.
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Happy delusions, in that case. Sometimes they beat the alternative...reality.
hugs, all...
Sunny Lyn
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Those Poor Editors
A little editor humor from fellow writer Gretchen Jones. I LAUGHED OUT LOUD, literally. http://comics.com/pearls_before_swine/2009-06-09/
I really feel for editors sometimes. I know it’s evil of me to side with them on anything, but they really must go through a ton of garbage at times to find that proverbial diamond in the rough. I read a Tweet post by one the other day, and she was fuming because of a writer requesting/demanding to be given a contract based on a partial. Evidently, said writer has a few manuscript problems and can’t get past her own ego to see them. Plus, it's not the publishing house's POLICY to contract on partials. That writer probably took the advice of someone else who suggested she do such a thing. Be careful who you admire - lol. They may talk bigger than they walk.
One thing I’ve noticed is that so many of us (writers) tend to blog about more than we should. I don’t mind copping to doing something stupid or bad occasionally – it’s like going to church and hoping SOMEONE still loves you, even though you’re a complete ass. Sometimes they do…sometimes they don’t. HOWEVER. I refuse to blog about what I have sent in to some publisher and naming names, giving ALL the details and then turning around a saying they rejected me. SURE, I have rejections. But here’s the deal, for those writers who don’t think editors and agents read their blogs (sometimes under assumed names, folks)...think again.
Say you submit Naughty, Naughty Nancy’s Misadventures in Misogyny to St. Martin’s or Dell, Bantam, or Harlequin. The editor there rejects you. I guaran-damn-tee you that after you announce this on your blog, an Ellora’s Cave, Samhain, Loose Id, or other editor at a small press or an e-press is reading your post going “Ah, shit – that means she’ll be sending it via email to me tomorrow.”
Why? Because so many writers don’t see small presses or e-publishers as the professionals they are. Some writers tend to think that if NY won’t buy them, ‘oh, an e-pub will’. Not necessarily. How do you think these businesses stay afloat? For every e-book you show me that is a piece of crap, honey, I can raise you a print book that is equally crappy.
Secondly, and this one is important…if you turn around and submit that manuscript to another publisher within 24 hours, you most likely haven’t taken the time to discover WHY it got rejected in the first place. Maybe there’s something you should DO (yeah, there’s that four-letter word WORK) before you fire it off to someone else. Just sayin’ (as Paul Reiser’s schtick went)…
Anyway. That old saying “don’t shit where you eat” applies to the writing world for sure. If your writing is your bread and butter, give that editor a feast rather than a fast for the day.
On that happy-friggin’-note…I still wish a terrific weekend for all of you. REALLY. And if this post can save one of you from making the mistakes mentioned, then I'll stick my neck out and take the chance it won't get chopped off.I don’t have a damn thing to send in to an editor right now, just wanted to give a cyber hug to ‘em. Bless their rotten black souls. I mean, sure, they enjoy torturing us writers *snort*, but they still need lovin’.
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Probably preaching to the choir here...
Something happened this past week that made me think back a few years. Had a good writer friend who was part of a big group where nearly everyone in it had made their first sale...then the next five or ten or however many. Anyway, they were all good writers, but her star shone just a bit brighter than everyone else's. She wasn't aware of the back-stabbing going on (or maybe she was and just had the good taste and good sense not to mention it). One author in particular made comment that she didn't understand why this one woman (we'll call her Author X) was getting such big advances, way bigger than hers and everyone else's.
I thought okay, tacky...probably a bit of professional jealousy going on, but still TACKY. It was like one high school girl saying "I don't know why the boys all like HER when they could have ME to fawn over."
Thing is, it still goes on. A lot. And it's sad, to me, when one of us can't be genuinely happy for someone else when they make that big break, when they sell to someone we've wanted to sell to, or when they get the big advance. But then maybe I have it all wrong--I feel we're in competition with ourselves, not with each other.
Back to Author X. She had it rough during that time. One of her siblings died, and she wound up raising this sibling's children...children, not child...children. She and her husband fought over her successes, and they wound up divorcing. She had health problems, family issues, all that good stuff, yet she still wrote what publishers and readers loved, and she remained a steadfast friend to the rest of us. Not once that I'm aware of did she ever use her disabilities and liabilities in mail to her editors or her agent. Not once did she complain about not being treated fairly. It's BUSINESS - and she kept everything on a professional level.
Not once did she stop writing, even when she got the blues, when others in her family passed away, when the tornadoes hit and she lost her home, needed surgery, couldn't pay the bills, needed new clothes or better transportation. Okay, you get the drift by now. She was a pro. She had a job, and she showed up for work every day.
So I look at her, and I look at another friend who is having this problem with professional jealousy (okay, actually there are about three who are going through this, and none of them know one another - they just share the same dilemma...remaining friends with back-stabbers). And I wonder why it is so many writers think that the way to get ahead is to make catty remarks or on the flip side to kiss so much ass. Do they really not see that kissing ass only garners them one thing...a bad taste in their mouth?
Instead of feeling "less than" around someone who succeeds, IMO we should support them and work on our own issues, discovering why we're not The Chosen Ones or what we can do to make our writing (and...ahem...ourselves) better.
I'm as guilty as anyone else - caught myself yesterday saying something snippy about someone TO a friend of hers. The woman (I felt) had used me and was using others, and I bitched. Come to find out, she's hurting. She's going through a divorce, her writing career hasn't taken off as she'd thought it would, and she's now working for a publishing house she once claimed she was too good to write for - that HAD to be rough on her to approach them. Do I still feel the same? Sure. Only I'm a little more humble and grateful that it's not me living her life. I have another day, another chance to get a few things right. No professional jealousy on my part, but a whole lot of unneeded bad karma. So color me sorry today that I let my arrogance cash checks my ass was ashamed to cover.
Anyway, hope this day finds all of you happy and healthy and at least a little mindful of your thoughts. Garbage in, garbage out - it's the GIGO effect.
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An Officer And A Millionaire
It's been a LONG time (if ever) since I've blogged about one topic, much less one author, one book, but...blame Heather Rae. She's the one who turned me on to this particular book. OH MY GOD - if you haven't read it, go buy it. NOW. You can thank me later. It's one of the best romances, best Desires, best BOOKS that I have read in ages. Wonderful characters, perfect plotline, terrific writing. Maureen Child (and no, she isn't paying me to hawk this book - she doesn't even know I'm talking about her) has done a fantastic job here. It's funny as hell, romantic, absolutely a joy to read.
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Blogger isn't letting me copy and paste, much less do links, so I'll try to get this all in here. Just had to share this book (this author, if you haven't read her) with you.
Go to eharlequin's website (link below) and check it out.
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Have a great day everybody.
~ Sunny Lyn
Labels: friends' books
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Springtime Thoughts
Home from Stud-sitting and wanted to share a blog post for those who haven’t seen it. An editor friend has a blog post that just wrecked me this past week. If you get a chance, pop over and read about mantasy.
Love my long nails, but while I was Stud Muffin sitting, I decided it was a great time to WRITE (shocking thought), so I did the big manicure. Amazing how much easier it is to type on a laptop without a solid inch of nail hanging off the end of your fingertips.
I think I had a better time “on vacation” than did my friend. She traipsed all over Chicago, aching legs, demanding kids, having to fork out money everywhere she went, while I sat on her patio deck with Studley, working on a manuscript that begged to be written (and having a marvelous time doing it). I kept the phone lines busy chatting with Heather Rae, who was an invaluable crit partner—she’s so much fun anyway, and her critiques were spot ON. I look forward to digging in to this one more.
The Kids and I are house-hunting this afternoon. We’ve already done the actual hunting, but there’s an open house at this particular one we love. When we get done, we get a free meal. I don’t remember ever phoning to complain about an order until last night, but that had to be the worst meal ever. I got home, nobody wanted to cook (including me), so we went to Sonic. Instead of getting cheeseburgers with mustard minus the lettuce and onions, we got BARBECUE SAUCE on them with tons of lettuce and onions. Instead of Cheddar Peppers, we got Cheddar Bites. Instead of…well, you get the idea. So I phoned. We get to pick up the order we requested, gratis, if we’re there before 5 pm, so that’s where we’re going once we’re done looking at houses.
My own dogs were thrilled to see me when I got home. The wolf-dog is losing his winter coat in patches – his butt is shedding…everywhere. Poor dog can’t walk without a tuft of butt fuzz flying out. Seems Mother Nature has deemed it’s springtime, after all. Good. Now if we can just keep the tornadoes at bay.
Tomorrow it’s coffee, fraps, or something much stiffer with Gretchen and Erin. Haven’t seen them for a couple of weeks, so it’ll be nice chatting it up with other writers and seeing what’s new in their lives. I know Gretchen has been gardening. The woman is a fantastic cook…even CANS, for godssake…and she writes and grows awesome flowers. Erin is a rock doc, a geologist, and another terrific writer. She also makes a kewl little appetizer. Hollows out cherry tomatoes, mixes the pulp with mayo and crumbled bacon, then stuffs the mixture back into the tomato shells – tastes just like a mini BLT. Amazing.
Erin’s my foot-in-mouth buddy. A few days ago she dropped the F-bomb into an email intended for her critique group…and sent it to our local RWA chapter by mistake – LOL. This past week, I did the same thing, only with the word ‘hell’, as in HOW THE HELL IS EVERYBODY in the subject line. Sheesh. Erin and I are gonna have to buy mint-flavored flip-flops for the summer.
Gretchen is my go-anywhere pal. I love hanging out with Gretchen. We have all these adventures, try different restaurants, visit museums and seed stores, go to art museums. And the heifer cooks. If she were a man, I’d be all over her.
I MISS MISS MERRY – meant to write her last week and say HEY, didn’t get around to it.
Oh, and before I leave, #1 Son sent me this link – down at bottom, click on “high” beneath the first pic. This is the future of gaming and Lord knows what else. FANTASTIC how far technology has come.
Have a great week, everyone. More later…
~ Sunny Lyn
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a lesson in male dominance
I’m pet-sitting for a friend while she and her family are in Chicago. (The pic is of an add she's in that Total E-Bound Books ran recently.) Anyway. I love her pet. The little dog has a menagerie of stuffed animals he plays with, and I video taped a few seconds of him tossing one of them into the air and chasing after it.
After I sent a video of Studley playing with Green Turtle, I started watching something on television, not realizing that Green was merely foreplay. Got a lesson in male dominance. I have no idea when the sex actually started, because both participants were so quiet. But I looked down and instantly felt like a voyeur. Studley had Red Bear on all fours, face into the carpet, and was screwing Red, doggy style, of course. Perfect alignment – right up the hoo-haa.
So focused was the little man’s desire and determination, I didn’t have the heart to stop him. He was masterful—completely dominated that bear. Studley humped and pumped, grunted and nipped Bear on the backside. I could well imagine Studley growling, fueling both their passions. You’re mine. Who’s your Doggy Daddy? C’mon, say my name. Say it!
When it was over, Studley collapsed against his love, snuggled into Bear’s side, kissing him. Then, a true gentleman, Studley took care of Bear’s hygienic needs before ministering to his own.
It was all so intense, I cheated—I had to have a cigarette afterwards. Studley followed me and sat on the porch, surveying his domain like a Malta-Poo of the Serengeti. A rabbit hopped by, and I was sure Studley sent a whispered message. “You’re next.”
We passed by Studley’s harem of sex objects as we trod down the hall to bed, and I know in my heart that Studley strutted, as if to reinforce in their minds, Yeah, I’m the man.
Then like a true male, he fell asleep. For hours. Completely sated and probably dreaming of catching that bunny…then a bird…and leaving nothing but fur and feathers in the aftermath.
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Aunt Nora married young, raised a family, buried a husband, sold a farm, and in her twilight years wanted to acquire something she'd missed...her education. When she announced she was going back for her GED, friends and family generally heard this with hidden smiles or raised eyebrows. The way Nora looked at it, she would be 76 years old anyway, might as well arrive at that birthday milestone a little smarter.
3 Comments:
I swear, your post has got to be THE most fascinating I've read in a long time!
The history! The legacy! Your memories. Truly inspiring. And to find out that the writer's gene runs in the family? How cool is that?
VERY.
What a wonderful thing it is to be reminded that woman CAN do and Have done so much during a time when men thought we couldn't. We just did it anyway.
In our own modern way, we still do.
Have a great week, Lyn!
I love looking at photos like those -- even when they aren't of my family. How cool that you were able to hook up with Annemarie and share them.
I don't feel bad for you about the chickens though. I had to slop the hogs.
aaw, thanks, michele!
hogs, liz? YOU? cannot imagine the smell - ugh.
and yeah, it was great hooking up with annmarie - she's been amazing. it's like we've known each other for years, and she has some fascinating tales about her side of the family. I grew up in what was once Indian Territory, so I had all the stuff her side had missed, and she's added a lot to enrich the history with what she's added.
hugs!
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