Science hasn't told us what causes autism. However, it told us without question that the vaccine myth wasn't real. Secondary research brought up many questions. This is peer review at its finest, serving its role in filtering out questionable results. Other researchers were unable to reproduce his results, because they were not scientifically sound. Because one team published false results, there is a threat out there that we must examine with fresh eyes. It is better to hold out for the right answer than to accept the wrong one out of fear or impatience. By working together and circulating peer-reviewed knowledge instead of conspiracy theories that don't hold up to scrutiny, we can play our part in helping. The scientific community can then battle the disease and stop taking time out to break it down for people who are unable or unwilling to do their own research. Their job is to save the world, not boil it into a user-friendly diagram for public consumption. We have an obligation to be savvy enough to interpret their findings and analyze them on our own. That's why they taught you all that sciencey gobbledygook in school.
The media and people seeking fame have pandered to those who wanted to hear "you were right all along" and "here is secret knowledge that others don't have" because it gives people false empowerment when worried. It tempts them to take the answer that's in front of them instead of risking it all to get the answer that holds up to testing and review by the world's most brilliant minds. It is a seductive lie that promises everything and delivers nothing, because until a solution passes the scientific community's standards it cannot be implemented in medicine and used to improve lives. The anti-vaccine movement has misled millions. There's nothing we can do about that except renew efforts to discover truth and facts that move us in the right direction. Scientifically. Not through John's Conspiracy Blog or Martha's Underground Information Center. I've seen those emails. They make me shudder.
"Science once told us the earth was flat," some people inevitably say as ass-backwards justification for ignoring science (while telling you about how they are scientifically correct). Not so. People once told us the earth was flat because they wouldn't listen to scientific observation. People once told us that sneezes were demons and that our planet was the center of the universe. Science told us about why we sneeze, shown us the depth and measurable dimensions of our planet and its relation to the universe, and has explained the rules that govern how planets orbit their stars. Science triumphs over man's false assumptions because one is law and the other is rumor. It hurts our pride occasionally, but in the end we come out knowing the truth of how something works, and mankind benefits from that knowledge. Galileo had an epic neener-neener moment that surely felt great, but don't underestimate the benefit to the generations who were able to take that knowledge and run with it, and not have to recreate the wheel every few decades. That is the power of science and knowledge.
People test scientific principles in classes and labs every day. That's how it should be. That's the point, and when it weeds out a conclusion and the author admits he is a liar, that's a sure sign that we need to continue looking and not be hasty in declaring something as fact. This debacle is a cautionary tale that will haunt science for centuries.
Someday, if we get out of its way and listen to what it is trying to tell us, science will tell us the truth about how we can really lower the risk of autism and better treat the people who suffer from it. The truth won't do us any good if it's lost in a hysterical babble of urban legends and invalid theories.
To believe an admitted liar over thousands of professionals whose livelihoods depend on their accuracy is insane. Right now the denial and ignorance of some are hindering the scientific community's ability to confront and eventually diagnose the problem. It's not like scientists won't continue to explore the possible links between autism and vaccinations, but since there are huge flaws in the theory let's not jump to conclusions and tell people the world is flat, thereby hindering the very people who are working to save us.
With billions of lives at stake, we can't afford to let ego and fear outweigh reasoning and knowledge. If a person can't understand that the world is at risk from outbreaks and mutations of diseases we once all but eradicated, they are an enemy of the issue. As we overcrowd and travel we have created the perfect storm for a global infection. That should keep us awake at night, not fears based on a lie that fell apart upon examination.
Sunday, July 6, 2014
Saturday, July 5, 2014
Why We Should Care About What Happens To The Homeless When They Die
I posted this to my Facebook in response to a recent story "What Happens To The Homeless When They Die?" I had several people contact me privately and tell me they too knew what it was like, and ask that I share this as much as possible. My blog seems like a great place to start.
This article upset me because it reminds me how fast we forget those left behind. We have homeless people in every city of modest size. People judge them, spit on them, beat them, rob them, or never see them at all. The fact that people don't know what happens to the homeless when they die shows how removed we are from their circumstances.
Without further ado, here is my Facebook post. To read the original article that set me off, you can find it here.
When I was 18, I lived in my car for a good while because I had nowhere to go. It was cold and it was awful. Nights last forever when you aren't warm enough, and days are endless when your belly is empty. This experience forever changed my view of the world and the people in it. It's also why I take this story and others like it so seriously. Compared to some, I was still living a life of luxury because I had a car for shelter. But oh, what I would have given for some warm, dry socks.
I am sad beyond words that these people are being thrown away simply because they have nothing. Literally, without any caring or consideration, they are bagged up and disposed of with the same measures used for roadkill. Tell me this is a nation founded on Christian principles, and I'll tell you that you're full of shit. Otherwise, we wouldn't have megachurches with shopping mall lobbies and top notch recording equipment while people freeze to death or suffer from chronic malnutrition.
But the homeless were discarded long before they died. And that's the real problem, isn't it?
We see the homeless as they are right now, dirty, desperate, bitter or lost. We do them the injustice of not knowing or forgetting that they are spelling bee champions, math whizzes, artists, dancers, friends, musicians. They could be mentally ill, they may have suffered a tragedy, they might just not know how to function in this world or some (like I was at the time) could be one break away from making it. They may have kids, they most certainly had parents. Someone might be praying for them right now, hoping that the world is being kind to them. Their relatives may never know that their loved one was found, scraped up, cremated, dumped, perhaps logged into a registry IF anyone ever knew their name. Or they find out that's exactly what happened, and are left to mourn in a field without markers.
So yeah, let's do something about that. Support a shelter, just remind yourselves that there but for the grace of God go we all, give however you see fit or are able. But do something, goddammit. There's a million ways to make a difference in a person's world, and only a few of them require money. A cup of coffee, an understanding ear, or just not being condescending to the less fortunate is a great place to start.
I know what it's like to have life hit you so hard you can't get up right away. I also know the power of a single act of kindness, especially when it comes at just the right moment. I have witnessed how much a good deed is amplified when done in the spirit of goodness. I have spent years hoping that if I ever get a chance, I can be that person for someone else. Twenty years ago, I was one good deed and a stroke of luck from disappearing off the face of the world forever. May I never be too proud or too spoiled to forget what that was like.
So, my beloved friends and readers: if you ever wondered why I delight in showering my friends and family with food just because I can, why I cringe when the wrong person touches me, why I fear being stranded in the cold more than just about anything, why I worry about the animals in the winter, or why I hoard socks like the world is going to run out of them... well, now you know.
This article upset me because it reminds me how fast we forget those left behind. We have homeless people in every city of modest size. People judge them, spit on them, beat them, rob them, or never see them at all. The fact that people don't know what happens to the homeless when they die shows how removed we are from their circumstances.
Without further ado, here is my Facebook post. To read the original article that set me off, you can find it here.
When I was 18, I lived in my car for a good while because I had nowhere to go. It was cold and it was awful. Nights last forever when you aren't warm enough, and days are endless when your belly is empty. This experience forever changed my view of the world and the people in it. It's also why I take this story and others like it so seriously. Compared to some, I was still living a life of luxury because I had a car for shelter. But oh, what I would have given for some warm, dry socks.
I am sad beyond words that these people are being thrown away simply because they have nothing. Literally, without any caring or consideration, they are bagged up and disposed of with the same measures used for roadkill. Tell me this is a nation founded on Christian principles, and I'll tell you that you're full of shit. Otherwise, we wouldn't have megachurches with shopping mall lobbies and top notch recording equipment while people freeze to death or suffer from chronic malnutrition.
But the homeless were discarded long before they died. And that's the real problem, isn't it?
We see the homeless as they are right now, dirty, desperate, bitter or lost. We do them the injustice of not knowing or forgetting that they are spelling bee champions, math whizzes, artists, dancers, friends, musicians. They could be mentally ill, they may have suffered a tragedy, they might just not know how to function in this world or some (like I was at the time) could be one break away from making it. They may have kids, they most certainly had parents. Someone might be praying for them right now, hoping that the world is being kind to them. Their relatives may never know that their loved one was found, scraped up, cremated, dumped, perhaps logged into a registry IF anyone ever knew their name. Or they find out that's exactly what happened, and are left to mourn in a field without markers.
So yeah, let's do something about that. Support a shelter, just remind yourselves that there but for the grace of God go we all, give however you see fit or are able. But do something, goddammit. There's a million ways to make a difference in a person's world, and only a few of them require money. A cup of coffee, an understanding ear, or just not being condescending to the less fortunate is a great place to start.
I know what it's like to have life hit you so hard you can't get up right away. I also know the power of a single act of kindness, especially when it comes at just the right moment. I have witnessed how much a good deed is amplified when done in the spirit of goodness. I have spent years hoping that if I ever get a chance, I can be that person for someone else. Twenty years ago, I was one good deed and a stroke of luck from disappearing off the face of the world forever. May I never be too proud or too spoiled to forget what that was like.
So, my beloved friends and readers: if you ever wondered why I delight in showering my friends and family with food just because I can, why I cringe when the wrong person touches me, why I fear being stranded in the cold more than just about anything, why I worry about the animals in the winter, or why I hoard socks like the world is going to run out of them... well, now you know.
Sunday, June 8, 2014
A Bittersweet Kitty Story
This was a hard week at our house. We knew our Diego was getting older, but nothing can prepare you for the moment of loss. Our hearts broke, and Boo and Jean also grieved for their buddy. People were so kind in the aftermath it made me cry all over again. I cannot tell you how many messages and stories I got through my site and Facebook. My coworkers had a card signed with wonderful things the very next day. I was overcome with hugs and surprise candy and just people being awesome. Yes, my heart broke. But I wouldn't trade our fifteen years with him for anything, not even to avoid that much pain.
RIP Diego, aka Fatbot, Mr. Fancypants and Baby D
A few days after we lost Diego, Boo Boo Louise had to go in to be spayed. Through an incredible long chain of coincidences, everything went down just right in a perfect storm of karma. While picking up our Boo, Bart saw two kittens in a small box up front. They were brother and sister, and are absolutely identical to Cartman and Katy, the ones we lost in 2012 that we miss so much. The boy is a ginger tabby, and the girl is a tortoiseshell. Her face is rounder than Katy's, but the markings are so similar it stopped him in his tracks. He went out to the car and made me come in. I saw them and asked him if we could have them and he said yes. Right on the spot. And just like that, we took them. The vet's office gave them both half-price care for life because we adopted them (and maybe just a little to get the crying crazy cat lady out of their lobby).
On the car ride home, they were terrified. We let them out into the den and they immediately began to play. It's been so long since we had kittens that weren't wild, we forgot just how much fun it can be. They romped and fell and shook their fat little kitten butts, and we spent all weekend just loving them. We both cried a few tears, especially when the boy picked up the ball just like Cartman did, and the little girl flopped down on Bart's cheek and snuggled in for sleep. The resemblance is just uncanny.
Folks, meet Gilligan Cartman Tindle and Lucille Katherine Tindle. For maximum cuteness, here they are snuggled on Bart's chest for a big nap, with little Gilligan hugging his sister. They are inseparable, and so full of love.
Gilligan is a boy in every regard, he runs so fast it is difficult to get a picture of him sitting still. But if you look closely, in this picture you can see Lucy's handlebar mustache and "frowny eyebrows" that are completely untouched in this photo.
Once I noticed those and Bart got a good look, we can't not see them. She looks like a ticked off villain at all times. Heart melted.
So that's our bittersweet kitty story. We're still sad and mourning, but we could not have passed on this in a million years. Too many things went right that day for us to say no, and now we have young babies who will be with us for many years to come.
You can bet more pictures are coming soon, but for now I wanted to tell everyone our great news, so we can celebrate the good that came out of the sad.
Sunday, June 1, 2014
How I Spent My Summer Vacation: Denver: Part I
This is the first installment of many in which I will share pictures and stories of our vacation. We're talking eleven days, 1,200 pictures and over 3,500 miles. If you had to wait until I got it all written up and edited in one piece, you would be waiting for a very long time.
Denver: Part I
For the first time since our honeymoon, we took a trip. It was the right time for many reasons. My husband just graduated with his culinary degree (wooooo Bart!). His career will likely cause us to uproot and move at some point, so this was also an exploratory expedition. Our mission was to figure out what we liked and didn't like, and why we felt that way so we could talk about where to focus his search. When he does find a job, it will likely be a while before he gets vacation time we can use to just get away and we had worked really hard the past few years. So in this perfect storm at the end of a maddening semester, we got the hell out of Dodge. Ferdinand, our giant sock monkey, accompanied us on the tour. Say hello to Ferdinand!
A musician friend actually liked the phrase Denver by Midnight and riffed an impromptu song. Taking that theme, we left Springfield at noon and headed to Denver, with that song on the first road trip CD. We did not make it by midnight (but the song was still terrific). We made it to Aurora at 2 a.m. and as not-glorious as it sounds, we were totally happy. The first twelve hour drive wasn't bad. Our signal was lousy, and we had a lot of talking and catching up to do. His final weeks of school were hellish, and I was struggling to finish chemistry and write a final term paper that was crazy complicated. We had missed each other a lot, and it was a great way to transition from home to a vacation frame of mind.
We rolled into Denver as the sun rose, and had time to kill. We ate at Pete's Kitchen, and the food was so good it was not to be believed. I had the short stack and Bart had the omelette. The food was awesome, the service was great and the place was very casual. Our bill wasn't quite fifteen dollars, and we were stuffed until afternoon. The crowd was mostly locals, and gave me my first look at the people of Denver. I was impressed by the diversity and general cheerfulness. There were a lot of characters and different types, but they were all friendly and seemed to get along pretty well. Pictures of Drew Berrymore, Tim Tebow, Merle Haggard and a few other celebrities were all that let you know this wasn't a standard diner. After breakfast, Bart looked up a friend of his, and I went to the Molly Brown House Museum in downtown Denver while they caught up.
Molly Brown was famous for being on board the Titanic when it sank. She was already famous among those in her circle for being "new money" and outspoken and liberal at a time when women were not allowed the luxury of being either. The tour of her house was amazing. Our guide took her time and explained the details of every room, and we got to see how it looked when Margaret (she was not known as Molly until after her death) had it photographed professionally for a high society magazine. Brown traveled extensively, and was fluent in Russian and several languages, and made a point to visit Egypt at a time when it was incredibly dangerous for any woman to be abroad. Brown was rich enough to make a desirable hostage, and outspoken enough to anger an anti-feminist society, but nothing stopped her from doing what she wanted, not even pesky criminals. She brought back several artifacts from Egypt, some of which were on display. If you ever get to Denver, I cannot recommend this tour enough. I adored her before I went, but I came away with a greater understanding of how she lived, and how very brave and unique she was. She was a brilliant humanitarian with a strong heart and clear vision, and she wasn't afraid to tell anyone to go to hell or how to get there.
I think the thing that best summarizes Brown and Victorian culture came exactly halfway through the tour. While going through her sitting room, we were informed that the next room was the most unusual in the house. The formal room was meant to showcase the family, to flaunt their wealth and show their status. Brown intentionally thumbed her nose and made it a library, showing her value on education and intelligence instead of material wealth and social hoops. And what a stunning library it was! She had classical literature (she apparently liked Greek and Roman mythology) and encyclopedias, maps and history and a surprising number of cookbooks and books on living. In both the library and formal sitting room there was a piano, the sitting room piano had a large nude statue on it during her entertaining years, which was seriously taboo for the repressed Victorian culture. She had more education than most women and she had educated herself throughout her years, but she would not be broken or forced to be a traditional lady at the cost of her wit and love for life. This said so much of her character, and helped me feel what was important to her. I got to browse her books (many are still originally from her collection) and decided right then that she hit a major criteria for a story I'm writing. So Molly Brown will take her place alongside Hypatia and other famous women in history in the Daylight Man, and I can't think of a better candidate. It all ties back to her library, and something I noticed while I stood there. I like to think she would be honored to have captured my imagination, and proud of how I'll portray her.
Downtown Denver is gorgeous. There are a lot of cultural differences that define it, and I liked them all. We primarily stayed around Capitol Hill and the Five Points district, that is where our hotel and friends were located. The streets were immaculate, and the businesses were just opening for the day. People were kind and there was a definite small town feeling, despite the huge skyline that was right there.
Denver: Part I
For the first time since our honeymoon, we took a trip. It was the right time for many reasons. My husband just graduated with his culinary degree (wooooo Bart!). His career will likely cause us to uproot and move at some point, so this was also an exploratory expedition. Our mission was to figure out what we liked and didn't like, and why we felt that way so we could talk about where to focus his search. When he does find a job, it will likely be a while before he gets vacation time we can use to just get away and we had worked really hard the past few years. So in this perfect storm at the end of a maddening semester, we got the hell out of Dodge. Ferdinand, our giant sock monkey, accompanied us on the tour. Say hello to Ferdinand!
A musician friend actually liked the phrase Denver by Midnight and riffed an impromptu song. Taking that theme, we left Springfield at noon and headed to Denver, with that song on the first road trip CD. We did not make it by midnight (but the song was still terrific). We made it to Aurora at 2 a.m. and as not-glorious as it sounds, we were totally happy. The first twelve hour drive wasn't bad. Our signal was lousy, and we had a lot of talking and catching up to do. His final weeks of school were hellish, and I was struggling to finish chemistry and write a final term paper that was crazy complicated. We had missed each other a lot, and it was a great way to transition from home to a vacation frame of mind.
We rolled into Denver as the sun rose, and had time to kill. We ate at Pete's Kitchen, and the food was so good it was not to be believed. I had the short stack and Bart had the omelette. The food was awesome, the service was great and the place was very casual. Our bill wasn't quite fifteen dollars, and we were stuffed until afternoon. The crowd was mostly locals, and gave me my first look at the people of Denver. I was impressed by the diversity and general cheerfulness. There were a lot of characters and different types, but they were all friendly and seemed to get along pretty well. Pictures of Drew Berrymore, Tim Tebow, Merle Haggard and a few other celebrities were all that let you know this wasn't a standard diner. After breakfast, Bart looked up a friend of his, and I went to the Molly Brown House Museum in downtown Denver while they caught up.
Molly Brown was famous for being on board the Titanic when it sank. She was already famous among those in her circle for being "new money" and outspoken and liberal at a time when women were not allowed the luxury of being either. The tour of her house was amazing. Our guide took her time and explained the details of every room, and we got to see how it looked when Margaret (she was not known as Molly until after her death) had it photographed professionally for a high society magazine. Brown traveled extensively, and was fluent in Russian and several languages, and made a point to visit Egypt at a time when it was incredibly dangerous for any woman to be abroad. Brown was rich enough to make a desirable hostage, and outspoken enough to anger an anti-feminist society, but nothing stopped her from doing what she wanted, not even pesky criminals. She brought back several artifacts from Egypt, some of which were on display. If you ever get to Denver, I cannot recommend this tour enough. I adored her before I went, but I came away with a greater understanding of how she lived, and how very brave and unique she was. She was a brilliant humanitarian with a strong heart and clear vision, and she wasn't afraid to tell anyone to go to hell or how to get there.
I think the thing that best summarizes Brown and Victorian culture came exactly halfway through the tour. While going through her sitting room, we were informed that the next room was the most unusual in the house. The formal room was meant to showcase the family, to flaunt their wealth and show their status. Brown intentionally thumbed her nose and made it a library, showing her value on education and intelligence instead of material wealth and social hoops. And what a stunning library it was! She had classical literature (she apparently liked Greek and Roman mythology) and encyclopedias, maps and history and a surprising number of cookbooks and books on living. In both the library and formal sitting room there was a piano, the sitting room piano had a large nude statue on it during her entertaining years, which was seriously taboo for the repressed Victorian culture. She had more education than most women and she had educated herself throughout her years, but she would not be broken or forced to be a traditional lady at the cost of her wit and love for life. This said so much of her character, and helped me feel what was important to her. I got to browse her books (many are still originally from her collection) and decided right then that she hit a major criteria for a story I'm writing. So Molly Brown will take her place alongside Hypatia and other famous women in history in the Daylight Man, and I can't think of a better candidate. It all ties back to her library, and something I noticed while I stood there. I like to think she would be honored to have captured my imagination, and proud of how I'll portray her.
Downtown Denver is gorgeous. There are a lot of cultural differences that define it, and I liked them all. We primarily stayed around Capitol Hill and the Five Points district, that is where our hotel and friends were located. The streets were immaculate, and the businesses were just opening for the day. People were kind and there was a definite small town feeling, despite the huge skyline that was right there.
We also got to see some old friends, and in my case I got to meet some new ones. The amazing Jarrin and Ruth were welcome sights. I had not met Ruth until this trip, but Bart swore we had a lot in common. He had no idea. She and I bonded immediately, and are both animal lovers and have a lot of the same outlooks on topics. Her boyfriend Favio was a really nice fellow too, and they showed us all kinds of neat places in town. We shopped at Capitol Hill Books, and I bought a book by a local author. I also chatted with an employee, and right there in the store I opened my phone and used Google Docs to write a few lines of My Sister Alice in the store. Now two of my favorite projects have ties to Denver.
Below is my friend Jarrin with Ferdinand. I tell you, that sock monkey got around. Jarrin met us for dinner at Casa Bonita, which is an experience you must have, even as I caution you that the food is canned, the service is lousy and the atmosphere is rushed and hokey. Still, it must be done and we did it with style. I worked with Jarrin years ago, and it must not have been too bad since we still keep in touch. Later, when I told him I felt we had to come back, he was the first person to really get it because he had done the exact same thing already.
The people of Denver were amazing, but I'm not going to lie... the food won us over. We ate at City Grille, and Bart had the best hamburger of his life. For a million reasons which will surely be coming in his food review, he swore it was the best hamburger ever. I ate my first vegan meal at City O' City, and it wasn't bad (I had the spaghetti and not-meatballs, and I recommend that and a home brewed root beer). The best food by far was Voodoo Donuts, where we were lucky enough to stumble in early Saturday and had many chances to wander back before leaving. Voodoo is open 24 hours a day, seven days a week. And thank God they are, because there was always a line. They have a great atmosphere, and the donut they designed looks like a voodoo doll. Mama glares at you from a velvet painting on the wall and makes you stand up straight. There are several donut choices, but the maple and bacon is divine, and the peach fritter with cream cheese frosting got Bart all the way through Utah. They have several cereal-dipped, flavored and designed donuts and compared to Springfield's own Hurts Donut I will give Voodoo the award every time, for flavor and value. They were made on the spot and pink boxes were flying out the door as fast as they could ring 'em up and move 'em out. When we got ready to leave town, Ferdinand held the box all the way to Las Vegas.
That's the end of the first installment. There are more stories to tell, but you'll have to wait a few more days while I edit photos. When all is said and done, there will be albums posted at www.bontindle.com for you as well.
Saturday, March 22, 2014
Birthday Reflections
Every year, I write a blog post looking at the past year, taking measure, and setting goals for the year ahead. This year is no different, except that I have nothing but good news to report for a change. I'm thirty-eight today. That's amazing to me. I can't believe I have lived this long, and for those who know the stupid stuff I've seen and done I bet you're just as surprised. But I'm here. And I'm ever so grateful.
As I get older, I am more comfortable with myself. I still try to identify my flaws and resolve them. I'm still trying to figure out what the right thing is, and I don't always know what to do next. But I love my husband, I finally have a job where I am happy on all levels, and my writing has really started to move. My enemies are few and my problems even more scarce. For the most part, I live a charmed and satisfying life, and except for winning the lottery I can't think of what I might wish for.
It's been a year of change. I cut ties with some influences that may have had a great impact on my writing career, but were ultimately not in alignment with my own principles. I have mostly given up political writing and am working on fiction. It seems like a long time since anything has come out, but that is because it takes a lot to get the ball rolling with fiction writing. I have started school and am loving it even while I cuss at homework and cry over math problems. All of these changes are good, but navigating them has been challenging at times.
I think the single greatest thing of this year has been an overall coming together of past, present and future. I have finally been able to let go of some people and things that don't belong in my world any longer. My past is finally fading. My present is wonderful. My job and friends and school life makes for a busy time, but I am happy and I feel the love. After cutting out the toxic friendships of my twenties, I have found healthy relationships that actually make life nice. It's terrific. My future is a little slow to piece together, but growing into a beautiful picture. Bart is about to graduate with his degree in culinary arts, and I am finally grasping the realization that I will someday work in journalism or media. It's crazy, but we are on the brink of a whole new life, and we have laid the foundation carefully. I'm very hopeful.
Thank you all for sticking around, and I hope the next year brings us all blessings and growth.
Bon
As I get older, I am more comfortable with myself. I still try to identify my flaws and resolve them. I'm still trying to figure out what the right thing is, and I don't always know what to do next. But I love my husband, I finally have a job where I am happy on all levels, and my writing has really started to move. My enemies are few and my problems even more scarce. For the most part, I live a charmed and satisfying life, and except for winning the lottery I can't think of what I might wish for.
It's been a year of change. I cut ties with some influences that may have had a great impact on my writing career, but were ultimately not in alignment with my own principles. I have mostly given up political writing and am working on fiction. It seems like a long time since anything has come out, but that is because it takes a lot to get the ball rolling with fiction writing. I have started school and am loving it even while I cuss at homework and cry over math problems. All of these changes are good, but navigating them has been challenging at times.
I think the single greatest thing of this year has been an overall coming together of past, present and future. I have finally been able to let go of some people and things that don't belong in my world any longer. My past is finally fading. My present is wonderful. My job and friends and school life makes for a busy time, but I am happy and I feel the love. After cutting out the toxic friendships of my twenties, I have found healthy relationships that actually make life nice. It's terrific. My future is a little slow to piece together, but growing into a beautiful picture. Bart is about to graduate with his degree in culinary arts, and I am finally grasping the realization that I will someday work in journalism or media. It's crazy, but we are on the brink of a whole new life, and we have laid the foundation carefully. I'm very hopeful.
Thank you all for sticking around, and I hope the next year brings us all blessings and growth.
Bon
Thursday, March 20, 2014
My Sister Alice
It's been hard to transition to writing fiction. Sort of like when a person who used to be in good shape takes a long break and then suddenly gets the itch to run a few miles. I can do it, but it hurts that muscle like hell sometimes. Working constantly and embracing the pain is the only way to get past either one, and I'm finally starting to get conditioned to the cycle of pondering, stewing and actually writing.
The one that has come to center stage for now is my first collaboration project. I wrote with others on Dead Shuffle, but we each had our own story lines and styles. In this case, I was able to hear someone's idea and (I hope) execute a thoughtful story that is great on all levels. It will be a novella and if it does well it will be a series. I would love to have it on Amazon by the time we take our vacation (more about that later) but it's far more likely I will finish it on that trip while we drive for 5-8 hours a day. Hey, as long as it gets finished, I'll be happy.
Besides collaborating with someone, this has been a first in many ways. I'm really learning a lot about the editing and publishing process, and I have made some great connections that will let a lot of people have a hand in the finished product. From a special request in the artwork to hidden mentions in the story, I have taken a lot of things and thrown them into the pot. It's also a crazy story, my first departure from "plausible if not provable" fiction in over a decade. This is fantasy, and I haven't touched that since Shadow Men. I've had to break out of my comfort zone, because it gets scary to me when you leave the facts behind. But it's also been great. My characters are growing quickly and sometimes the magic really is there, if only for a moment.
I'm hooked and having a ball. Expect updates here, and of course on my author page on Facebook.
The one that has come to center stage for now is my first collaboration project. I wrote with others on Dead Shuffle, but we each had our own story lines and styles. In this case, I was able to hear someone's idea and (I hope) execute a thoughtful story that is great on all levels. It will be a novella and if it does well it will be a series. I would love to have it on Amazon by the time we take our vacation (more about that later) but it's far more likely I will finish it on that trip while we drive for 5-8 hours a day. Hey, as long as it gets finished, I'll be happy.
Besides collaborating with someone, this has been a first in many ways. I'm really learning a lot about the editing and publishing process, and I have made some great connections that will let a lot of people have a hand in the finished product. From a special request in the artwork to hidden mentions in the story, I have taken a lot of things and thrown them into the pot. It's also a crazy story, my first departure from "plausible if not provable" fiction in over a decade. This is fantasy, and I haven't touched that since Shadow Men. I've had to break out of my comfort zone, because it gets scary to me when you leave the facts behind. But it's also been great. My characters are growing quickly and sometimes the magic really is there, if only for a moment.
I'm hooked and having a ball. Expect updates here, and of course on my author page on Facebook.
Monday, March 10, 2014
A Shift In Direction
Life is about change. There were times I wanted to write different things, and I have enjoyed writing several different lengths in a variety of genres. I have spent the majority of my effort in writing nonfiction in general, and it has been delightful. I have learned discipline, gained valuable experience formatting and thinking about both the moment and the big picture when it came to picking and choosing stories. I was blessed to write for delightful editors who whipped me into shape and then gave me full access and creative freedom. I hit some heights and did many things that made me proud. I love all of the work I did, and the people I met while doing so.
However, having said that, I believe it's time for me to primarily go back to fiction writing. Some editing and writing opportunities have come up, and they are all in fiction. This is my first love, making things out of nothing. Meeting characters in my head and getting to know them. Figuring out why they're talking and what they are really saying. I enjoy the hell out of political commentary but my roots are here. It's what it is all about. And it's time to go big or go home. I can't split my energies between so many different things, and with a full-time job, school, the resulting homework, following politics, researching history, working on The Daylight Man, writing short stories and doing that little thing I call "sleeping" I find myself a little swamped.
This doesn't mean I will stop writing for Zandar Versus The Stupid. I've written for him for years and I really enjoy his company and his audience. A lot of my followers that I have gotten to know over the years hang out there, and I've met a lot of great people through comments that led to online friendships. That is my nonfiction home and I want to give Zandar my best while we start to gear up for 2016. There's a lot of work ahead and I want to do my part. I may occasionally send a piece to a different source, but that's where the vast bulk of my commentary belongs.
The dawning realization of the need for a change in direction came right before something else captured my fancy. A very talented person had an idea they wanted to share, and it has sparked something amazing. In a few days of chatting, a firm story has formed and it's currently underway. It will be out as soon as possible. I would love for it to be on Amazon by the end of summer, but it's too soon to see just how big this one is going to go. In the meantime, that is where the bulk of my creative writing is going. Hang it all, I am in love with these characters and this will be a great transition project. I'm getting back into that creative place, and it is nice. I forgot how much fun a little magic could be, and the burden of plausibility has been lightened in this universe. Anything is possible, and that has been just what I needed to get back in touch with my fiction self. Thank goodness this person was able to share their ideas effectively, and help me when I was a bit rusty. Reading is fun, but my God writing is better. Collaborating has been both fun and challenging, and adds a whole new level of difficulty to the mix.
It's a big deal for me to put the brakes on the nonfiction for a while, but this really does suit me better. I am no journalist, I am a storyteller. Or at least, I like to think so. When I think about my long-term writing career, I envision myself writing novels and making people believe in the people and places that bloom in my head. I guess I'm just surprised the change in direction crept up on me, because I didn't realize I was there until I had been there a while. I'm at the final push to making my dream come true. I've spent five years building a diverse and specific list of accomplishments. Now it's time to do a few short jumps back into fiction and push for the book. I'm there. I'm freaking there. I'm terrified. I'm freaking terrified.
The good news is, instead of waiting two years for a book, I'll have something out soon and a book coming out in two years. This won't slow me down. It's the door opening, taking me back to that place in my head where anything can happen. I've missed that place, and I don't know that I can ever make myself leave again.
However, having said that, I believe it's time for me to primarily go back to fiction writing. Some editing and writing opportunities have come up, and they are all in fiction. This is my first love, making things out of nothing. Meeting characters in my head and getting to know them. Figuring out why they're talking and what they are really saying. I enjoy the hell out of political commentary but my roots are here. It's what it is all about. And it's time to go big or go home. I can't split my energies between so many different things, and with a full-time job, school, the resulting homework, following politics, researching history, working on The Daylight Man, writing short stories and doing that little thing I call "sleeping" I find myself a little swamped.
This doesn't mean I will stop writing for Zandar Versus The Stupid. I've written for him for years and I really enjoy his company and his audience. A lot of my followers that I have gotten to know over the years hang out there, and I've met a lot of great people through comments that led to online friendships. That is my nonfiction home and I want to give Zandar my best while we start to gear up for 2016. There's a lot of work ahead and I want to do my part. I may occasionally send a piece to a different source, but that's where the vast bulk of my commentary belongs.
The dawning realization of the need for a change in direction came right before something else captured my fancy. A very talented person had an idea they wanted to share, and it has sparked something amazing. In a few days of chatting, a firm story has formed and it's currently underway. It will be out as soon as possible. I would love for it to be on Amazon by the end of summer, but it's too soon to see just how big this one is going to go. In the meantime, that is where the bulk of my creative writing is going. Hang it all, I am in love with these characters and this will be a great transition project. I'm getting back into that creative place, and it is nice. I forgot how much fun a little magic could be, and the burden of plausibility has been lightened in this universe. Anything is possible, and that has been just what I needed to get back in touch with my fiction self. Thank goodness this person was able to share their ideas effectively, and help me when I was a bit rusty. Reading is fun, but my God writing is better. Collaborating has been both fun and challenging, and adds a whole new level of difficulty to the mix.
It's a big deal for me to put the brakes on the nonfiction for a while, but this really does suit me better. I am no journalist, I am a storyteller. Or at least, I like to think so. When I think about my long-term writing career, I envision myself writing novels and making people believe in the people and places that bloom in my head. I guess I'm just surprised the change in direction crept up on me, because I didn't realize I was there until I had been there a while. I'm at the final push to making my dream come true. I've spent five years building a diverse and specific list of accomplishments. Now it's time to do a few short jumps back into fiction and push for the book. I'm there. I'm freaking there. I'm terrified. I'm freaking terrified.
The good news is, instead of waiting two years for a book, I'll have something out soon and a book coming out in two years. This won't slow me down. It's the door opening, taking me back to that place in my head where anything can happen. I've missed that place, and I don't know that I can ever make myself leave again.
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