Thursday, August 2, 2012

The Writer's Manifesto

Truthfully, I didn't expect to think much of another writer's "Manifesto" - even the title seemed a bit presumptuous to me.  (What other Manifesto are we aware of?  Do we want to be associated with The Communist Manifesto by Karl Marx?  No matter how well-known he is, I don't think we can yet go for a love match there.  Least not in the USA.)   So, I was knocked down.

I was knocked down by a wonderful poetic artistic style of how Jeff Goins, the author of The Writer's Manifesto, draped words across the page, colored and tinted his way in movements as soothing and uproarious as a symphony.  

Then he sang songs from my own heart.

These weren't just words and he didn't just knock this out,  he knocked it out of the ballpark.  

An incredible work.  

Every writer should read this.

Then come back and let me know how it changed YOUR life.  Or tell me now, what writers have affected your writing?   Share in the Comments.

Friday, June 8, 2012

3WW: Fairytale Woes: Kermit or Miss Piggy?

Fairytale Woes: Kermit or Miss Piggy?

The bulky sweater cramped my style; I struggled it off and threw it on the
dresser. Maybe my suede jacket would fit
better. With a jade silk blouse, tucked
in blue jeans. Hmmmm, and a belt. And boots.

Dressing for a first date can be murder on clothes. I misted my casual pony tail ‘knot’
with Caresse by Avalon, sprayed a splash
across my tummy and dusted the scent down the heels of my jeans.

Sighing once more into the mirror, I resigned myself to the
inevitable. He was going to have to like
me for me, warts and all, but better that than some princess neither of us
could maintain or stand for long.

Not a bad deal.

This weeks' Three Word Wednesday's offerings are "bulky," "mist" and "resign."  Stop by 3WW to see other imaginings.  I know I will.  Thanks for stopping by.

Friday, May 25, 2012

3WW: Flesh of my Flesh

     “Flesh of my flesh,” the priest intoned.  “Blood of my blood.  Take.  Eat.”

     Pinpricks crisscrossed my heart, searing in with tiny palpitations the moisture of my tears.  I lowered by eyes and raised my crossed hands.  Give me what you will.  I can survive anything.

     As a novice, I knew I could not verbally counter his insistence that all was for the best in this the best of all possible worlds.  Voltaire would have been proud of this papal servant extolling his greatest philosophical lies by his greatest philosophical detective Candide.  I would have been more candid in my assessment:  there is nothing that cannot be better, even if things could be worse.

     This priest here, now, wanting me to forget.  The sons of the desert do not forget.  Neither the daughters.  My son’s name is whispered in the air around me and burned in the flesh of my heart.  There is no forgetting, there is no forgiving.  I close my hands on the wafer pressed into my flesh.

     There is no forgetting.

     There is no forgiving.

     I get up and leave.  I will survive, but not with your platitudes.

     I will survive with the flesh of my flesh, and the blood of my blood. 

     I will. 

     I will it.

      I crumple up the wafer outside the door and leave it for the sparrows.

T his week's three words, brought to us by Three-Word Wednesday's (3WW) offers these three words for our prompts: Novice, Flesh, and Sear.  It was not my intent to think of the novice as a novitiate in the church, but rather as a simply layman (or in this case, laywoman) who didn't have the words to counter the priest's arguments, using novice as one that is young and has opinions mostly that have been given them by another.  At this point, the mother, in grief over her son's death, cannot accept the priest's arguments that all is for the best, and rejects that which she had been accepting blindly.  We do not know where this will lead her, but hopefully we feel the hopefulness of her resolution to survive, as seen in the recycling of the wafer through earth's food chain.

Thursday, May 17, 2012

3WW: The Spawning

The Spawning

I won’t fawn over you
As I sit juggling our expense books --
That egg was laid a long time ago
And hatched dirty and yellow, rotten.

Now I find etchings in the margins of our lives --
Coffee stains and report cards,
Slivers of blue that sparkle with hope
In the eyes of our only child.

I cannot tell her the dream I had,
So I pluck feathers from the nests of eagles
And hot-glue them to her pelt,
Dreaming of werewolves navigating the sun.

This week's three cue words from 3WW (three-word wednesdays) are fawn, juggle, and navigate.  I hope you've enjoyed my little tale, a little different from Little Red Riding Hood, but maybe not, maybe this was the denouement, in modern times.  Click on the link to 3WW to see more examples of prose and poetry inspired by these three words.  Most are by real poets.  Thanks for visiting!

Thursday, May 10, 2012

3WW: The Keep

The Keep

High in the keep
I shall not tremble

Lest I dampen
My stagnant thighs

3WW has chosen Keep, Tremble, and Dampen for its three cueing words today.  Although I chose a different definition of keep than 3WW had provided, I hope this isn't outside the rules.  Simply wanted to do something different from earlier posts, and being as I'm feeling locked at home today, what better image to relate to that a princess locked in a keep and foreswearing not to tremble, not to show fear, to stay cool and dry?

Wednesday, May 2, 2012

3WW: My Godly Pursuits

Today, Three-Word Wednesdays (3WW) brings us:  just, penalize, and generous.  I thought I'd address the dichotomy of trying to be just as well as being the one responsible for showing mercy.  Not only judges in courts must face this dilemma.... Only our mortal belief that our own personal G-d does it right -- no matter how much our small minds are incapable of comprehending the final and ultimate purpose -- can really allow us to accept the things that happen to us, where justice is not served or where mercy is not meted out to our satisfaction.  Can you imagine what it must be like, though, to have to be the one who decides?

My Godly Pursuits

Whether I am just or generous,

I must penalize that one.

Must I be righteous?

Where is my left hand

When I reach out to smite thee with justice?

Where is the mercy for the damned?

Whither can one show mercy and show justice?

How can mercy for one be justice for another?

How can justice for one be mercy on another?

Why am I the one to judge – to decide?

I want to be generous, loving and kind--

Yet I must be just, must penalize those I also love.

For without that, I am not a righteous God,

I cannot be trusted.

But if I am without mercy, I also

Cannot be trusted.

It seems that I

Am the one


Sunday, April 29, 2012

3WW: The Assistant

The Assistant

Kinks from life’s blood, this mortal coil. I roll my shoulders, crack my neck.
Ponder on life’s blood . . .
What was
--- A minute ago merely in slumber
Minutes from now safely ensconced.

From Tender Moments
We live Life’s kinkiest plans.
I pause and consider these things:
Pink swirls disappearing,
Twinkles down the blade flashing in the moonlight from the window.
The water races down, pushing pink swirls toward the drain
A trace of what was
An image of life going on into the sea of contentedness beyond that which we mortals endure
A jealousy that I can only imagine
--Can merely assist--
In providing others that walk through the door
Beyond a glimpse
Beyond a glimmer
A final immersion in the sea of tranquility.

Based on 3WW's weekly three words kinky, bloody, and tender, this poem brings a little insight into the mind of The Assistant.  Perhaps one day we'll get to see more of his work. 

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Safe Words

“One!” --“Ow!”
“Two!” --“Owww! That hurt.”
“Three!!” --“Buttercup!”
“Wimp.” But he stopped.

Two safe words.That’s the rule.
Buttercup for the first, Strawberries for the second.
Grateful he’s in a loving mood, I rub my sore rump and
Sit back, smile up at him.

“C’mere.” And my knees cross the floor.

Yes, I’m a kept woman.
My dependence on his love, His dependence on my love
All contrived like words in a poem
We flit like butterflies thru well-defined roles
I wear my punishment like a well-rumpled suit
It comforts. It defines
The lines between Safety
And the Outside World.

Today's three words (dependence, kept, rumple) from 3WW tie to the new hype generated by Fifty shades of Gray. Having just read a post that discussed how this fan-fiction has created its own fans and then considered how lines from Shakespeare's Taming of the Shrew and Jane Austen's own books might have used such scenes to good effect, I had to go ahead and use them in this context.  Yet I wonder if the editors who chose today's three words had the same in mind as well. I didn't make them up - they did! I hope you've enjoyed this glimpse into the relationship between a master and a sub.

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

As Ye Sew, So Shall Ye Rip

Each week, 3WW posts three words on Wednesday;  our mission:  create something written using those three words.  This week:  draft, locate, serenity.  Here's my vision: 

The Battlefield

As I scratch-scritch-scratch, the paper – my draft  -

Takes on the scene of a battlefield:  a word bombed there,

A whole sentence taken out there.  My scratches get deeper

and broader and pierce the paper at times.

I mumble to myself, pull my hair, slake my thirst,

Drag the pencil across my teeth, and rant at the scene before me.

Out, out – no, that’s good, stay stay. 

If at the end, I can locate my sanity,

It would have been worth the battle.

Monday, April 9, 2012



It was a cold Virginia day.  Early in the rainy season.  The reason we were all standing here.  The wash down from West Virginia had stirred up a corpse.  Darrell Sheffield.  At least that’s what we were all hoping.

Sheffield’d been missing since last October.  Right after his wife left him.  Went on a bender and never came back.  Still, his son was a star football player for the Westerville High Panthers.  Sheffield never missed a game. 

Not that we wished him dead.  We only wished closure for his son.  Mom left. Dad disappeared. His senior year.  A cold way to start adulthood.  Thinking his Dad had left too might have been too much.  Not that Dakota thought that.  Still, everything looked like Darrell’d split.  Gotten drunk in a bar.  Bought another bottle at Tooley’s drive-through, and that was the last anyone seen of him til now. 

“You think it’s him?” grunted Slater coming up on my elbow. 

I grunted back.

“Got the perimeter all put up.  Thompson and Brooks got the lookie-loos back up on the road.  You want us to do a grid search, Chief?” 

 Shadows moved around near the trees on the river’s edge, higher now with the spring thaw.  The ground was marshy underneath;  it squished when I shifted my weight and narrowed my glance.

 “You think I should do it, Slater?”  My growl was worse than my bite, but Slater was just green enough not to know that.  He turned three shades of red before stopping at heart-attack.  I softened my voice, made it low, “Round up Smith and Lopez.  Then get Thompson to help.  Brooks can hold the perimeter. …and, Slater –“ I paused to be sure I had his attention.  “Pick up everything.  And use gloves.” 

I’d already made them all put rubber bands on their shoes – a trick I picked up from some CSI tech I’d dated a while back.  Best part of living in Virginia was the access to good labs, and seminars where you could learn a thing or two, and maybe even get laid, all on the man’s dime.  Pay as a cop, even a Chief, was piss-poor unless you worked in a burg of any size, and I was done with burgs.  Thank you, but your t-shirt no longer fits me and my tired-ass attitude.  Nice and quiet.  That’s what I thought I’d find out here in the po-dunk western hills of Virginia.  But truth doesn’t always meet its hype.

I expected a little drunkenness, a little hell-raising, not the good ol’ boys gone bad with meth labs and such.   So, quiet it wasn’t, and occasionally we had pieces of meth lab geniuses to be scraped together and sent to the labs for unscrambling, but nothing sinister.  Nothing evil.  Nothing that made you suspicious of your neighbor.  

The body wagon finally showed up, and our prize for the day was hauled up the hill for its ride to the funeral home, where Westerville used space for its morgue.  Identity would come later.

I nodded to the boys as they passed, feeling like I had to justify my presence.  Not that it needed justifying, I was the Chief of Westerville Police.  But, then again, not everyone in town knew that me and Jennifer Sheffield had had a thing for a while, but enough knew.  If she hadn’t run off from her old man and slipped into my house, this wouldn’t have been a problem.  As it was, I probably shouldn’t have been there.  Then again, I felt I owed the kid.

Inspired by 3WW's Three-word Wednesdays and the words Growl, Justify, and Hype.  Check out this link to read more of the works inspired by these three words.

Sunday, April 8, 2012

Spring Tidings

Spending time with my sons, hearing their laughter - those are the most joyous things in the world to me.  This weekend I got to spend time with both.

Guitar lessons for the 15 year old who's also learning to drive, grabbed breakfast on the run, but with a few minutes to spare, we ate in the car and talked.

Then, I took my recently-turned 18 year old son out to find a tux for not one but two proms he's attending with his girlfriend - his and hers.  We ended up buying a tux, getting a suit thrown in (now he's ready for job interviews, too, now and throughout his college years), and it was so much fun helping him pick ties and shirts and suits and tuxes and just so thrilling that he's actually excited now to go to prom. Twenty of his friends are all sitting down in the same restaurant, all dressed up, and he can't wait.  Be still, my beating Momma's heart!

I'm still writing, still working on the innertube of fat I wrapped around my waist.  We almost went bicycling too but spent time checking out potential places of employment instead.  These are the joys of my life, and before I had my children, as most of you who've been through that change know, I never would have wished for the lack of time, the extra weight, the extra cost, the changes to my own lifestyle, but once I saw those baby eyes peering into mine, I was hooked and I'd give everything I own away to be there with them always. 

This is how my Spring tides are washing against the shore of my life.  It's a nice feeling this weekend.  I'm still working on my Three Words Wednesday (3WW) prompts, reviewing six other authors' works, finished a book query and sent it to an agent, and feeling a wee bit more positive about the world and my place in it.  How about you?  How's you Easter/Passover/March-to-April going so far?  Is there a breeze of hope out there that you can feel against your skirt?  If so, let's try to let it lift us up a little bit higher, try a little bit more in whatever goals we set for ourselves.  Come along, I could use the company.

Here's to Spring!

Friday, March 30, 2012

The Ides of April

The ides of April - our national day of reconciliation on tithing to the government.  Did we do it correctly?  Meh.

The biggies are done.  Still have a city form to go, but I let them do it for me, beg if necessary.  It's a small city and the staff is much more knowledgeable on which block to pull out and what else to look for.  I've seen them zip it out - including corrections on my feeble attempt, saving me another $20 in the process -- in less than five minutes.  Definitely a plus to let them do it for me.  (And fewer mistakes for them to fix.)

Time for celebratory low-carb CHOCOLATE ice cream and some malted milk stuff on top.  Will share with dog, who let all the tax forms fall onto his head out of the printer without licking the ink off.

Tax Day
It's tax day, it's tax day --
"Off with her head," they said.
It's tax day, it's tax day --
"Let them eat brioche," she said.

They cried over pain perdu ('lost bread' to me and you)
The queen was in shock
And shown to her rooms
In the Palais des Tuileries,
As accusations flew
About queen and brood
And sexual depravities.

[It's ages past now, but one would hae thought
These fine folks were a bit overwrought!
Sporting red, white and blue, in service godly and true,
Did nae see how their war chests went thru.]

"Hae they forgot the brothers we saved --
& it hae Cost us an arm and a laig!?!!
-- Fighting in th' land o'er the bountiful sea
'Gainst King George and his much-hated Tea?"

 "Milady, my Queen, so it may seem,
But this tax is such a terrible bed.
Lie down we may must,
And to sleep in the dust,
Lest the mice run away with our head."

Thursday, March 29, 2012

Perfection for Evermore, Evermore

The Raven Leaves a Note
Jostling through the crowd
While cabmen lean on their horns,
Businessmen on their phones,
& Coffee fumes escape a  Starbucks
Like steam from a manhole cover,
A remnant of his fragrance
Lingers on my face and pulls
Me forward through the morning rush
On a cloud of ethereal beauty.

Not for this I toil in vain,
This pitiful species of man;
But to find my fear and feel its name,
To whisper in morning’s first light,
To feel the fear released again
By love’s tenderest caress
Of the blade to the throat through the blood
And the light
And the oxygen that colors
The brightness to dark
And sweet perfection is saved, spared
The aging decrepitness.
Perfection for evermore, evermore.

Quoth – The Raven (It is I.)

Three-word Wednesdays provides three words each Wednesday that are used to create something.  This week 3WW chose jostle, fragrant, and remnant.  After I found the image where these three words coalesced in my mind, I chose to go a little further because I always want to have a bit of mystery, murder, or mayhem afoot.  Hopefully you picked up on that, and also picked up that this is the note "The Raven" sent or left for the police, the reporters, and ultimately the public, to explain.  Why do you think The Raven does what (s)he does?  Can you think of a serial killer in fiction who thought like this? 

Friday, March 23, 2012

Tackling Goals: Where this blog is headed

One might look at my blog and say "What the heck is she doing?" if they knew this (blog) mostly talked about weight loss and changing one's lifestyle in order to be healthier.  Even the title "Luvs2zumba" seems more designed to discuss Zumba - which is at least part of a healthier lifestyle than the poetry and commentaries I've been posting more recently. 

So what has happened?  The tag line says:  "Eating Elephants One Bite at a Time, or How I Ate One Too (812)" and that is a better clue. 

Almost everything worth undertaking is going to take time, energy, patience, and a lot of effort.  Whether we're changing our lifestyles to live healthier, or more energetic, or whether we're learning how to program our computer, build a space rocket, or teach a 2- year old how to tie his shoes, whoever is on the learning side is going to do this one step at a time.  Big projects especially.

How do you do them?  You break them down into smaller steps or tasks and focus on those.  You make sure that those lead to your larger goal, so there is always that "eye on the prize" but you try to stay "in the moment" by focusing on the one step or task in front of you.

As it is with lifestyle changes, my goal of becoming a novelist is going to be filled with lots of baby steps, small steps in the general direction of where I'm going, sometimes falling down, always brushing myself off and getting back up. 

The little ditties (poems) and other commentaries, essays, etc., which don't seem to focus on lifestyle changes or eating better, drinking water and exercising, are my sharing some of my little steps with you - putting them out there in the open.  You may not get to watch me create them, just as you can't see me drink a bottle of water, but you are sharing in the quality of them.

Maybe over time, you will be able to see some improvement.  I certainly hope I do.  Maybe you can see some of yourself in them. As the writer, that's definitely something I hope you do, and I hope you are entertained, have a moment of escaping the travails that surround us -- reminder to self:  finish taxes today -- and a little more stress is released. 

If that doesn't work, try a few hours on a step-master, or a punching bag, or a yoga class, or simply lie down on the floor and breathe deeply and slowly, focusing on your breathing only.  Nothing else. 

In this way, you too can take a small step toward reducing stress.  Thanks for visiting.

Thursday, March 22, 2012

Job Market Evolution (a 3WW inspired poem)

Job Market Evolution

Slowly ploddingly – alone
Diligently nurturing an amateur
--Quickly acquired my job
--Rapidly became the boss
--Sent me home to rot

Diligently nurturing a grudge
Slowly plotting along
--Quickly acquires a stench
--Rapidly begins her decay
--Sent home in a box

Brought to you by the combination of 3-Word Wednesday's word prompts of Amateur, Diligent, and Nurture, and today's fun lessons of job searching while being a middle-aged over-educated woman, plus the little bit of murder and mayhem we all so dearly love to read.

Sunday, March 18, 2012

[FGC #7] The Greatest Tanka Ever Told

The Golden Butterfly

Hidden amongst leaves
is a thistle growing wild
forgotten by all
save a golden butterfly
lost in the dance of summer.

The above is posted in creative response to Write Anything's Form and Genre Challenge #7.  The tanka is new for me but, having lived in Japan, the haiku form of 5-7-5 which is a part of it is not.  Dusted off a little something old, added a little something new.  Tinkered again.  Posted for you.  Maybe you like.  I have a sweet affinity for the golden butterfly dancing around that thistle....

Saturday, March 17, 2012

Heart Disease Unmasked: Low Carbs Win!!

A recent posting in Sign of the Times has another MD (not Dr. Atkins) explaining that it's not cholesterol PER SE that causes heart disease, but an inflammation in the arteries that causes the cholesterol (which our body uses) to stick to the sides and cause blockages, etc. 

So, what causes the inflammation?

He goes on to explain how our processed foods (and the oils they use, which he identifies specifically) and the carbohydrate diets which are LOW FAT have cause all these ills, including diabetes and pre-diabetes.  It's well worth reading the whole article to see what he has to say and weigh the information for yourself. 

I've done a similar study on myself, but not being an MD or a medical researcher, couldn't and wouldn't say that it applied to others, but I saw how ingesting carbohydrates while I was on a low-carb diet that was higher in protein (as well as salads) affected me.  
  • I crashed -- immediately and with no control. 
  • I could feel the arteries slugging down when I ate some of my favorite carby foods. 
  • I had a lot more energy, which was also even across my whole day.
Alas, this also means that I need to get back on the wagon before it runs over me.  Still, I am thinking of joining a gym again so I can have safety supports around me when I start working out again - in case I fall down, pass out, or have a heart attack because I've been eating a lot of those bad sugars and sitting on my duff for the past two years.  Maybe I should see if there's a gym beneath the ER. . . .

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

3-word Wednesday Strikes Again

Today's three words are:  Baffle, Elegant, and Negate, which brought to mind the following:

Nothing could negate that her elegant arms baffled the detective;  after all, it was well-known that Venus de Milo had lost both of them years ago.  How she now came to have them, from one day to the next whilst in the Louvre, was a mystery.

Friday, March 9, 2012

How Luther Went Viral

The following takes a look at "How Luther Went Viral" and in this sense also helps to spread the original article (from the economist) and send it viralling off into the darkness -- er, "cloud."

While the author draws a neat
between social activism in the 1500s
and the riots in Arabic countries
in 2011
based on people making connections through new and growing social media
of their times, he seems content
to shine a light on Luther’s progress and to
reiterate the adage that “History repeats itself” by stating “History tells us
that there is nothing new under the sun.”

Even though we have newer technology
by which these connections were
made for the riots in 2011
(the internet, tv, social media like Facebook and Twitter),
these are simply comparable to the older technology when it was new in the 1500s:
cheap pamphlets, crude political/religious drawings, and easily learned ditties.

From both, people of geographic disparity learned that others shared their views,
and this created a growth and an impact for change to occur.
The author ends his brilliant discussion
-- of Luther’s use of media and propaganda to flame the passions of the common people --
with a mediocre stab that seems more intent at ending the article than saying anything:
that they “do not just connect us to each other: they also link us to the past.”
How this links us to the past (other than being a parallel) is not part of the article.
Even Hitler used media and propaganda,
and the new media he used was FILM.

Seems this was a clever idea on how
to showcase the author’s knowledge of Luther.
If one wants to know more about the riots of 2011 (not much was
mentioned of them in the article), there is a link below this one to another article. It’s located
under “Religion” rather than “Politics.”

One is further provided choices to “LIKE” this on Facebook (4k so far),
“TWEET” this on Twitter (3890 so far, so perhaps the same 4k),
Comment on it (40 so far),
Email, Print it, or Reprint it (with permissions).
One can also recommend it on the Economist (504 so far),
reddit (unknown), Google +1 (199 so far), and
LinkedIn Share it (857 so far).

I would say this article has not gone viral yet.

Given that it was first published/posted in Dec 2011, it’s not likely to get much more attention, but it is a possibility. (Here's one post that might help that, eh?)

And, yes, the author likened Luther’s popularity and his movement to “going viral.”

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

Whacky Wednesday goes Deviant

Over at 3-word Wednesdays, three words are tossed out like mullet from a shrimp boat onto the dock and our role is to catch them and shape them into some creative mess of words which include the three words tossed out first. To keep it short, I'm following Tony Noland's method of a short, not quite serious, poem. Given that my genre is mystery, it follows that mine has a bit of murder or mayhem, or maybe even a sociopath or two in it. Enjoy!

Don't call me Trivial
There once was a man with a tool
That a lass labeled cute yet miniscule.
A deviant he become--
A murderous scum
--And off with her head went the fool.

The three words? Deviant, miniscule, and trivial. Yeah, I cheated with the title. The alarm clock went off. And the lesson for today? Sometimes you just have to do it.

To Thine Own Self Be True (Part Deux)

It's AMAZING what you can live through.

People are starting to call me a 'survivor' and I don't think I deserve that, have earned it, or want that title. I may not survive.

This blog went thru a hiatus from fall 2009 to fall 2011 to now, or later. I'm a groundhog starting to wake up, to come to. Sometimes I don't think I'm going to poke my head out. Ever feel that way?

My method for dealing with stress usually involves doing the opposite of whatever I was doing before. If I was dieting, I pig out. If I was pigging out, I lose my appetite. Call me stubborn or a rebel, but if you try to tell me what to do, I'm likely to do the opposite nowadays. Just because I can. And because it would thwart your plans to control my life. I've had enough of that, and I'm taking it back. That's all I'll say about what happened.


On to more important things.


If you were following my blog, you know I was dieting, starting to lose my metabolic rate, not getting in enough zumba classes, living near no bike trails, having a couch-potato man in my life (no support personnel, in other words), and then some computer issues. Computers were the least of my problems it turned out, but where that has left me is back to needing to straighten out my life and get healthy - again. And so, who do I turn to? ME!

LOL - it's true. I have done this before, and I know that I know how to do it again. So, I have started re-reading some of my earlier posts. This one even says that I did it, and did it again:

The only thing it doesn't tell me is how to prevent this again. I'm thinking "no men in my life" which should reduce the emotional turmoil. But we don't live that way, any of us, without having significant others in our lives. Perhaps the lesson is to be a lot more pickier in finding someone(s) who fit my lifestyle, or my preferred lifestyle, better.

So, my new year's motto (same one every year) "To Thine Own Self Be True" has a little extra oomph behind it this year.

I'll also be changing the format for the blog as I rediscover my voice. For most, it will simply be more entertaining (I hope) and less yak-yak-yak about weight loss, recipes, and healthy living. Those will still be here, but more as background or a subplot - or maybe a theme. Who knows? They are part and parcel of who I am when I'm not trying to kill myself slowly, and now I'm working on trying to use my pen as a needle and paper as a voodoo doll; and to mix metaphors a bit, I'm going to exorcise the devil out of my life. Hang on, it's going to be a heck of a ride.

Friday, January 20, 2012

My Name Is Not Bob: The Second Most Important Thing a Writer Can Do: 5 Ways to Experiment as a Writer

My Name Is Not Bob: The Second Most Important Thing a Writer Can Do: 5 Ways to Experiment as a Writer

Here, "Not Bob" says the same thing I've said again and again when you want to get out of a plateau: break up your routine and do something different. "Not Bob" has some specific exercises a writer can take, which might give you an idea on how you, too, can get out of a rut, any rut, but specifically yours, and it need not be about dieting and foods.

Your love life, your daily routines, anything we do that we do over and over - while making us efficient, can also come close to boring us to tears and can destroy the very things we love. We begin to hate those things: picking up the toys, washing the dishes, making food, picking a menu, our spouses, driving to and from work, our love life (or lack thereof), our life.

Whenever we get in a rut, it's time to shake things up in a way that makes us creative and loving life again. It's that loving life feeling that makes it possible to push away from the table, to laugh when someone - we won't say who - says hurtful things, and to make things happen.

So, check out "Not Bob" and see if he has some idea in there that might spark a little sum-sumthin' for you.