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Meena Rose on Writing, Definition, and Roles, 5/6/2012 4:44:00 PM
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claudsy on Writing, Definition, and Roles, 5/6/2012 5:05:00 PM
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Meena Rose on Writing, Definition, and Roles, 5/6/2012 5:25:00 PM
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claudsy on Writing, Definition, and Roles, 5/6/2012 6:55:00 PM
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Veronica Roth on Writing, Definition, and Roles, 5/6/2012 7:31:00 PM
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Poetic Bloomings on Writing, Definition, and Roles, 5/6/2012 8:42:00 PM
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claudsy on Writing, Definition, and Roles, 5/6/2012 9:11:00 PM
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claudsy on Writing, Definition, and Roles, 5/6/2012 9:16:00 PM
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Meena Rose on Writing, Definition, and Roles, 5/6/2012 9:54:00 PM
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Meena Rose on Writing, Definition, and Roles, 5/6/2012 9:58:00 PM
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drpkp on Interview with Poet Walt Wojtanik, 5/7/2012 4:10:00 AM
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Marie Elena on Interview with Poet Walt Wojtanik, 5/7/2012 4:25:00 AM
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drpkp on Interview with Poet Walt Wojtanik, 5/7/2012 4:37:00 AM
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drpkp on Interview with Poet Walt Wojtanik, 5/7/2012 4:47:00 AM
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Misky on Interview with Poet Walt Wojtanik, 5/7/2012 6:00:00 AM
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claudsy on Interview with Poet Walt Wojtanik, 5/7/2012 7:39:00 AM
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claudsy on Interview with Poet Walt Wojtanik, 5/7/2012 7:40:00 AM
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claudsy on Interview with Poet Walt Wojtanik, 5/7/2012 7:41:00 AM
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claudsy on Interview with Poet Walt Wojtanik, 5/7/2012 7:42:00 AM
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claudsy on Interview with Poet Walt Wojtanik, 5/7/2012 7:43:00 AM
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claudsy on Interview with Poet Walt Wojtanik, 5/7/2012 7:46:00 AM
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Poetic Bloomings on Interview with Poet Walt Wojtanik, 5/7/2012 7:56:00 AM
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claudsy on Interview with Poet Walt Wojtanik, 5/7/2012 8:00:00 AM
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vivinfrance on Interview with Poet Walt Wojtanik, 5/7/2012 8:02:00 AM
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claudsy on Interview with Poet Walt Wojtanik, 5/7/2012 8:08:00 AM
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pvariel on Character Building from Hurdles, 5/11/2012 10:46:00 AM
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claudsy on Character Building from Hurdles, 5/11/2012 11:14:00 AM
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cloudfactor5 on Character Building from Hurdles, 5/11/2012 2:09:00 PM
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claudsy on Character Building from Hurdles, 5/11/2012 2:12:00 PM
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cloudfactor5 on Character Building from Hurdles, 5/11/2012 2:43:00 PM
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carrieboo33 on Needed Relaxation and Nature, 5/15/2012 5:49:00 AM
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Veronica Roth on Needed Relaxation and Nature, 5/15/2012 6:50:00 AM
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claudsy on Needed Relaxation and Nature, 5/15/2012 8:25:00 AM
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claudsy on Needed Relaxation and Nature, 5/15/2012 8:33:00 AM
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carrieboo33 on Needed Relaxation and Nature, 5/15/2012 10:06:00 AM
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claudsy on Needed Relaxation and Nature, 5/15/2012 10:52:00 AM
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Lara Britt on You’ve Got to be Kidding, 5/16/2012 10:19:00 PM
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Meena Rose on You’ve Got to be Kidding, 5/16/2012 10:41:00 PM
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Meena Rose on You’ve Got to be Kidding, 5/16/2012 10:42:00 PM
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Lara Britt on You’ve Got to be Kidding, 5/16/2012 10:46:00 PM
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claudsy on You’ve Got to be Kidding, 5/16/2012 10:49:00 PM
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claudsy on You’ve Got to be Kidding, 5/16/2012 10:53:00 PM
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Lara Britt on You’ve Got to be Kidding, 5/16/2012 10:55:00 PM
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claudsy on You’ve Got to be Kidding, 5/16/2012 10:58:00 PM
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Lara Britt on You’ve Got to be Kidding, 5/16/2012 11:41:00 PM
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Lara Britt on Meena Rose On the Air, 5/17/2012 12:23:00 AM
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Mariya Koleva on Meena Rose On the Air, 5/17/2012 12:39:00 AM
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Meena Rose on Meena Rose On the Air, 5/17/2012 5:42:00 AM
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Meena Rose on Meena Rose On the Air, 5/17/2012 5:43:00 AM
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By:
Claudette Young,
on 6/1/2012
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The Artist’s Way: A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Have you ever begun a project only to find yourself on a journey to a place where you discover as much about yourself as you do about the place where you stopped?
If you don’t remember, were you paying attention? This isn’t an idle question: truly. I’ve just found more of myself because of a place where I stopped.
The new site where Meena Rose and I have taken up part-time residence is stretching me in ways I never anticipated. I had my expectations of what would be required of me, and I had dreams of what I could contribute. I think that’s true anytime one launches a new project that will be shared with others.
During the past couple of days, I did necessary research in order to put together a post for this morning in the “Two Voices, One Song” Garden. Research is a normal part of writing. Ask any good writer. What surprised me was not my distraction quotient, but rather the depth of the distraction.
I was looking for a piece of video—my first to be linked on a site in one of my posts—about Julia Cameron. I had no difficulty finding one. YouTube has several available for linking.
Surprise came with the reviewing portion of my research. I admit it; I got lost inside all of those videos. I watched the woman speak to a workshop group, not once, but several times on several videos. I listened and recalled what it was I’d put aside when my copy of “The Artist’s Way” was relegated to the bookcase.
My morning pages had become a thing of the past, no longer creating an advantage to my work and personal understanding. I’d given up that portion of my intent when I got too busy with daily tasks to remember that my inner self was more important than my public one.
Lao Tzu, traditionally the author of the Tao Te Ching (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
When I finished commiserating with Muse concerning this lack in my daily routine, I went on to enjoy watching several videos of Dr. Wayne Dyer as he presented the Tao Te Ching and its use today. I’ve seen Dr. Dyer before and thoroughly enjo
By:
Claudette Young,
on 5/31/2012
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Extension and definition (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Obviously this is the last day of May, but it’s also the day before the launch of a new website called “Two Voices, One Song.” My friend, Meena Rose, and I have created a new joint venture. It’s a blending of philosophies, perspectives, and visions, which I hope all of our regular readers will enjoy.
We’re inviting our readers to take a peek inside this new space before the rush of tomorrow, to have a look at the rooms within our freshly built abode.
Does this mean that Claudsy’s Blog will cease to exist or be abandoned like an old toy in favor of a new one? Not for a long while yet, is the only answer I can honestly give. It does mean that I’ll only be posting here every other day, instead of daily, as is now the case.
Meena and I are blending as much as we can of who we are as people and writers to give readers a far better look into our minds. Among the rooms at “Two Voices, One Song,” you’ll find regular brainstorming sessions between us while we work out problems with pieces of fiction, non-fiction, or poetry. You’ll find regular pieces of finished fiction/non-fiction, as well.
Memoir entries centered on travels we’ve made, and understandings or thoughts we’ve taken away from those travels, will show up in the garage each week. Discussions of philosophy will take place in the Library, even while meditation is offered in the Garden. For those in need of writing prompts, there is a large selection from which to find just the one to stir the imagination and the Muse.
Along the way, we’ll have links to places we find worthwhile, engaging, or instructive. We urge every visitor to take advantage of these offerings and to offer feedback in return.
Profiles and interviews, stories and articles, poems and projections all come together there for savoring by the reader.
In the meantime, I’ll be having regular posts here as well. If I do fiction there, it will show up here. The same holds true for poetry and questioning pieces.
And while Claudsy’s Blog will migrate much of its content to the new site, Claudsy’s Calliope will do the same; as will Trailing Inspirations. This co-mingling of content and perspective feels like the proper thing to do right now, in this surge of creativity that was fostered at the beginning of May.
Please enjoy a tour of “Two Voices, One Song” and see if what you’ll find there will be as suitable to you as my offerings her
By:
Claudette Young,
on 5/30/2012
Blog:
Claudsy's Blog
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Satire on false perspective, showing all of the common mistakes artists make in perspective, by Hogarth, 1753 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
People talk about attitudes every day. The subject is always revealing. This morning I came up against it yet again, but in a different way. Let me explain.
I was brushing my teeth a while ago when I heard the toilet flush. Ours is a split bath with the lavatory separate from tub and toilet. I was startled because I’d not noticed Sister moving past me, either going or coming back.
I immediately inquired if she’d done so, to which she said, “Of course!”
Color me surprised. I replied, “I must have been really focused, since I didn’t notice you walking past me.”
Her response was, “Oblivious would be a good choice of word, too.”
I’ll tell you what I told her. “I choose to take a positive stance on this one, rather than see it as negative.”
This whole exchange may sound silly, but it addresses an everyday choice we make as humans. I prefer to think of the episode as “being focused.” The opposite take is “being oblivious.” I was focused on what I was doing and what I was thinking at the time; which just happened to be what I was going to write for this blog post today.
Sister considered it as less aware. One the one hand, she’s correct. I was unaware of her presence behind me and of her proximate activity. From her perspective, what I was doing took little thought and, therefore, I should have noticed her movements.
At the same time, my perspective informs me of my concentrative ability to screen out irrelevant activity while working on the mental plane. This does not happen when I’m in unfamiliar terrain or in uncertain situations. I see it as indicative of how safe and secure I feel in my own home.
Different perspectives? Certainly. Different attitudes? Again, yes, though those attitudes are informed by expectations as well. My expectation was of safety in my home. Hers revolved around momentary awareness of my surroundings.
When we move around our world, we carry expectations, and perspectives based on them, with us and draw conclusions from those factors. Whether those conclusions are viewed as correct are, for wont of another explanation, dependent on how other individuals interpret those conclusions.
The behavior of the world’s populace is based on these factors. Until consensus of perspective arises, there can be little hope for consensus of behavior. At least, that’s how I see it.
If one small action—my brushing my teeth and not noticing someone move behind me—creates a schism between positive and negative interpretation, how much more dramatic are divisions surrounding vast actions?
Give me your thoughts on this question. How do you see perspective and its role in the daily behavior of those two-legged creatures called humans? Leave a comment below and join the discussion.
Until then, a bientot,
Claudsy
By:
Claudette Young,
on 5/30/2012
Blog:
Claudsy's Blog
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Satire on false perspective, showing all of the common mistakes artists make in perspective, by Hogarth, 1753 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
People talk about attitudes every day. The subject is always revealing. This morning I came up against it yet again, but in a different way. Let me explain.
I was brushing my teeth a while ago when I heard the toilet flush. Ours is a split bath with the lavatory separate from tub and toilet. I was startled because I’d not noticed Sister moving past me, either going or coming back.
I immediately inquired if she’d done so, to which she said, “Of course!”
Color me surprised. I replied, “I must have been really focused, since I didn’t notice you walking past me.”
Her response was, “Oblivious would be a good choice of word, too.”
I’ll tell you what I told her. “I choose to take a positive stance on this one, rather than see it as negative.”
This whole exchange may sound silly, but it addresses an everyday choice we make as humans. I prefer to think of the episode as “being focused.” The opposite take is “being oblivious.” I was focused on what I was doing and what I was thinking at the time; which just happened to be what I was going to write for this blog post today.
Sister considered it as less aware. One the one hand, she’s correct. I was unaware of her presence behind me and of her proximate activity. From her perspective, what I was doing took little thought and, therefore, I should have noticed her movements.
At the same time, my perspective informs me of my concentrative ability to screen out irrelevant activity while working on the mental plane. This does not happen when I’m in unfamiliar terrain or in uncertain situations. I see it as indicative of how safe and secure I feel in my own home.
Different perspectives? Certainly. Different attitudes? Again, yes, though those attitudes are informed by expectations as well. My expectation was of safety in my home. Hers revolved around momentary awareness of my surroundings.
When we move around our world, we carry expectations, and perspectives based on them, with us and draw conclusions from those factors. Whether those conclusions are viewed as correct are, for wont of another explanation, dependent on how other individuals interpret those conclusions.
The behavior of the world’s populace is based on these factors. Until consensus of perspective arises, there can be little hope for consensus of behavior. At least, that’s how I see it.
If one small action—my brushing my teeth and not noticing someone move behind me—creates a schism between positive and negative interpretation, how much more dramatic are divisions surrounding vast actions?
Give me your thoughts on this question. How do you see perspective and its role in the daily behavior of those two-legged creatures called humans? Leave a comment below and join the discussion.
Until then, a bientot,
Claudsy
By:
Claudette Young,
on 5/29/2012
Blog:
Claudsy's Blog
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The Artist’s Way: A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
For many the season of warm weather has already driven temperatures into the high 90’s and above. Hence the reason we live as far north of the Mason-Dixon Line as we can. Today we might get into the mid-60’s with rain.
You won’t hear us complain too much. The moisture is something we need to keep fire threat down in our forests. Cooler temps ensure that we don’t have adverse effects from being outside and enjoying the day, as well.
The first of the season’s holidays has passed with celebrations, speeches, memorials, parades, and picnics. Soon June will open its doors to summer’s activities and school recess. What will your future hold this summer?
Thinking on this question this morning, I could see many changes for myself and how I move through my life. Sister comes out of the chute, anxious and excited as she begins summer session next week to get a leap into her new curriculum.
A new book is making its way to me. I ordered “The New Drawing from the Right Side of Your Brain” a few days ago. Many years ago I read the original edition of this marvelous book. After discovering a new version was out, I decided to slide the cost onto my educational spreadsheet and order it.
The one thing I learned from the original was that the technique taught by Betty Edwards could be used for any type of creative project or thinking. Yes, it does teach how to perceive an object in a way that allows the viewer to recreate it on paper, in oils/pastels/acrylics, etc. At the same time that perception bleeds over into other aspects of the physical world. Perception of time can shift as well or how one sees other people. Writers can learn a whole new spectrum of creativity.
When taken in conjunction with The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron, a whole new view of the world is available. I intend to discover as much of that new world view as possible. The old one is getting a bit tired and frayed.
New seasons introduce new beginnings, and discovery of those beginnings is part of the drive into the months ahead. In preparation for discovery, here’s my list of impending activities.
- Continuing education in the writing craft
- Visits from three friends from around the country
- A
By:
Claudette Young,
on 5/29/2012
Blog:
Claudsy's Blog
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Today's Questions,
Reading (process),
Betty Edward,
The Artist's Way: Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity,
Life,
Add a tag
The Artist’s Way: A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
For many the season of warm weather has already driven temperatures into the high 90’s and above. Hence the reason we live as far north of the Mason-Dixon Line as we can. Today we might get into the mid-60’s with rain.
You won’t hear us complain too much. The moisture is something we need to keep fire threat down in our forests. Cooler temps ensure that we don’t have adverse effects from being outside and enjoying the day, as well.
The first of the season’s holidays has passed with celebrations, speeches, memorials, parades, and picnics. Soon June will open its doors to summer’s activities and school recess. What will your future hold this summer?
Thinking on this question this morning, I could see many changes for myself and how I move through my life. Sister comes out of the chute, anxious and excited as she begins summer session next week to get a leap into her new curriculum.
A new book is making its way to me. I ordered “The New Drawing from the Right Side of Your Brain” a few days ago. Many years ago I read the original edition of this marvelous book. After discovering a new version was out, I decided to slide the cost onto my educational spreadsheet and order it.
The one thing I learned from the original was that the technique taught by Betty Edwards could be used for any type of creative project or thinking. Yes, it does teach how to perceive an object in a way that allows the viewer to recreate it on paper, in oils/pastels/acrylics, etc. At the same time that perception bleeds over into other aspects of the physical world. Perception of time can shift as well or how one sees other people. Writers can learn a whole new spectrum of creativity.
When taken in conjunction with The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron, a whole new view of the world is available. I intend to discover as much of that new world view as possible. The old one is getting a bit tired and frayed.
New seasons introduce new beginnings, and discovery of those beginnings is part of the drive into the months ahead. In preparation for discovery, here’s my list of impending activities.
- Continuing education in the writing craft
- Visits from three friends from around the country
- A
By:
Claudette Young,
on 5/25/2012
Blog:
Claudsy's Blog
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Happiness mind-map (Photo credit: EEPaul)
This will be a short posting today. It is, after all the day before a large holiday weekend. To that end, I’m going to take most of today off to enjoy nature and see something besides the four walls of what I laughingly call my office.
I also want to take this opportunity to thank everyone who stops by this site. You read my words, and many take the chance to leave your own behind. The exchange is good for me, and I hope, for you as well.
Many of you are new to this neck of the woods. I’m glad you’ve decided to make this station a regular stop on your weekly sojourn around the cyber world. I’m also happy that I’ve provided material which has stirred conversation, discussion, debate and, for some, pleasure enough to click the “LIKE” button. In my book, you all deserve a medal.
THANK YOU, all of you.
Here’s hoping you all have a fantastic weekend of fun and family joys. I may take today off, but the rest of the weekend is a working holiday for me. Enjoy yourselves out there at the park, the lake, the beach and stay safe to return next week.
I’ll see you then. A bientot,
Claudsy
8 Comments on Holiday Enjoyment, last added: 5/28/2012
By:
Claudette Young,
on 5/23/2012
Blog:
Claudsy's Blog
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Age like a fine wine (Photo credit: derekGavey)
Strike at the heart of the beast! Show no mercy!
Why do people feel compelled to do battle with all things related to aging? Hair gets colored, as if having gray hair is shameful. Young, nubile women begin getting Botox before the age of 30; begin using anti-wrinkle creams in their 20’s.
Have we come to despise these signs of having lived past our teen years?
My hair gleams with gray sprinkled throughout from years lived and loved. Hard work went into the making of those signature hairs. Why should shame be associated with them?
Small lines have taken up residence around my mouth. Are they caused by laughing too much? If so, my favorite past-time will continue to occupy me. Laugh lines are far better in my estimation than facial stress fractures.
The reasoning behind this abhorrence of aging escapes me. My entire experience here on Planet Earth was lived at the same moment—the one in which I am aware. Age has rarely meant anything to me.
At age twelve, people treated me as 19-20. When nineteen came along, people assumed I was in my mid-20’s. By the time my 30’s arrived, most of my friends were in their early 20’s. Even now, I have few real friends my own age. I know plenty of people in their 50’s and 60’s, but those whom I call true friends are of all ages, from the very young to those in their late seventies and older.
It’s always been my contention that age is only a marker for statistical purpose. The body may have tell-tale signs of wear and tear. But the me operating this body has no age, except the one I inside my head.
The question which needs to be posed to a person is: If you’re so unhappy to reach your current age that you need to reconstruct your body to hide your experience, is reconstruction likely to erase your unhappiness?
Does one’s happiness depend on the physical representation of the person inside? After all, our bodies are only the vessels, which carry us around on this planet. Is our preoccupation with conforming to culture’s definition of beauty the only path to self-satisfaction and acceptance? Must we all be life-sized, unrealistic Barbie’s and Ken’s in order to be accepted as vital, beautiful, and worthwhile? If so, aren’t we all waving a white flag; surrendering our individuality and uniqueness in favor of a cultural i
By:
Claudette Young,
on 5/23/2012
Blog:
Claudsy's Blog
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Add a tag
Age like a fine wine (Photo credit: derekGavey)
Strike at the heart of the beast! Show no mercy!
Why do people feel compelled to do battle with all things related to aging? Hair gets colored, as if having gray hair is shameful. Young, nubile women begin getting Botox before the age of 30; begin using anti-wrinkle creams in their 20’s.
Have we come to despise these signs of having lived past our teen years?
My hair gleams with gray sprinkled throughout from years lived and loved. Hard work went into the making of those signature hairs. Why should shame be associated with them?
Small lines have taken up residence around my mouth. Are they caused by laughing too much? If so, my favorite past-time will continue to occupy me. Laugh lines are far better in my estimation than facial stress fractures.
The reasoning behind this abhorrence of aging escapes me. My entire experience here on Planet Earth was lived at the same moment—the one in which I am aware. Age has rarely meant anything to me.
At age twelve, people treated me as 19-20. When nineteen came along, people assumed I was in my mid-20’s. By the time my 30’s arrived, most of my friends were in their early 20’s. Even now, I have few real friends my own age. I know plenty of people in their 50’s and 60’s, but those whom I call true friends are of all ages, from the very young to those in their late seventies and older.
It’s always been my contention that age is only a marker for statistical purpose. The body may have tell-tale signs of wear and tear. But the me operating this body has no age, except the one I inside my head.
The question which needs to be posed to a person is: If you’re so unhappy to reach your current age that you need to reconstruct your body to hide your experience, is reconstruction likely to erase your unhappiness?
Does one’s happiness depend on the physical representation of the person inside? After all, our bodies are only the vessels, which carry us around on this planet. Is our preoccupation with conforming to culture’s definition of beauty the only path to self-satisfaction and acceptance? Must we all be life-sized, unrealistic Barbie’s and Ken’s in order to be accepted as vital, beautiful, and worthwhile? If so, aren’t we all waving a white flag; surrendering our individuality and uniqueness in favor of a cultural i
By:
Claudette Young,
on 5/22/2012
Blog:
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This morning has been one of entertainment and revelation, as well as finding two more writers I want to get to know much better now that I know so little about them. Odd phrasing, I know, but true, nonetheless.
I met John Jakesthrough a short article he did for the June issue of The
Cover via Amazon
WriterMagazine. Though I’ve dabbled in his books, I never stopped to pay attention to the one behind the words. That privilege came with his article.
Jakes talks about how plot, while important, seldom brings someone back for a second reading of a book. Rather, it is a character that calls the reader back for another look into the life represented within the confines of the book’s covers. That reasoning is one I can agree with without reservation.
At fifteen, Louis Bromfield’s marvelous novel “The Rains Came” leaped off the school library’s shelf and into my waiting hands. This story for more mature
Cover of The Rains Came
audiences both surprised my composition teacher and dismayed her. She felt I wouldn’t be able to grasp the complexity of its story, characters, and plotline at a mere 15 years old.
I devoured this story of colonialist India with it’s coming revolution for sovereignty and its interwoven native characters and English colonials, its love stories—both adulterous and forbidden inter-racial unions, and its political statements. I couldn’t put it down. The depth of the story spoke volumes to me. I wanted more and took the time to find just that.
I went to the public library to find more books by this author. I came away with his Pulitzer winner, “Autumn Leaves” and counted myself fortunate that it was available. I’d discovered a world beyond kid’s literature. I could read something again with the depth and knowledge of Tennyson, Homer, and Shakespeare and get away from what was “acceptable” for my age bracket.
I understoo
By:
Claudette Young,
on 5/22/2012
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This morning has been one of entertainment and revelation, as well as finding two more writers I want to get to know much better now that I know so little about them. Odd phrasing, I know, but true, nonetheless.
I met John Jakesthrough a short article he did for the June issue of The
Cover via Amazon
WriterMagazine. Though I’ve dabbled in his books, I never stopped to pay attention to the one behind the words. That privilege came with his article.
Jakes talks about how plot, while important, seldom brings someone back for a second reading of a book. Rather, it is a character that calls the reader back for another look into the life represented within the confines of the book’s covers. That reasoning is one I can agree with without reservation.
At fifteen, Louis Bromfield’s marvelous novel “The Rains Came” leaped off the school library’s shelf and into my waiting hands. This story for more mature
Cover of The Rains Came
audiences both surprised my composition teacher and dismayed her. She felt I wouldn’t be able to grasp the complexity of its story, characters, and plotline at a mere 15 years old.
I devoured this story of colonialist India with it’s coming revolution for sovereignty and its interwoven native characters and English colonials, its love stories—both adulterous and forbidden inter-racial unions, and its political statements. I couldn’t put it down. The depth of the story spoke volumes to me. I wanted more and took the time to find just that.
I went to the public library to find more books by this author. I came away with his Pulitzer winner, “Autumn Leaves” and counted myself fortunate that it was available. I’d discovered a world beyond kid’s literature. I could read something again with the depth and knowledge of Tennyson, Homer, and
By:
Claudette Young,
on 5/21/2012
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The raw satellite imagery shown in these images was obtain from NASA and/or the US Geological Survey. Post-processing and production by www.terraprints.com (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Taking a day away from usual activities helps to restore a semblance of order to one’s life. Perspective is gained. Appreciation is elevated. New knowledge filters through the mind to lodge in memories.
Yesterday was a day of exploration into places unknown and challenging facts known. For me, it was also a time to take away snippets of useful information; the kind used in a twisted kind of way for story elements and character development. Those are the kind of relaxed and fun days that begin with one purpose and turn out as gold mines. Also, the experience felt much like going home to my dad’s family for the day.
We met up with friends, Sister’s distant cousins, in a small-town restaurant about an hour south of our locale. We had a nice lunch before heading south again to their home in an even smaller town. Our entire purpose for going on this jaunt was so that Sister could shoot the eclipse in an area where she could get good water-reflection shots.
During our scouting adventure, I was taken to places I’d never seen before; places that had escaped my notice when I’d lived in the area twenty years ago. As well, the cousins constantly pointed out places that related to their family histories.
“So and so built that ranch. Who is the latest owner, honey?” Cousin #2 asked as she pointed to the left to a grouping of buildings amid lush pastures. “The original barn’s gone now, of course.”
Gravel roads, dust flying from under the wheels of passing ranch trucks and cars, we made our way from reservoir to reservoir; each with points of interest. On the first we found swans that had been introduced to the waterways. The second, though smaller, was far more serene, more relaxing. Native ducks, muskrats, gulls, all played in the placid water. Further into the hills, we found rock chucks guarding their homes and new calves cavorting among adults.
At last we wound through forested hills up to MacDonald Lake, nestled in the Mission Range; a smaller lake than it used to be, only because it isn’t allowed to fill up the way it used to years ago. The deep teal, crystalline waters, surrounded by pine-covered slopes, beckoned to us. Trails radiated from its sides for the explorer who would challenge grizzlies in the area for prime fishing spots.
From the south-end approach I could only envision one scenario. I saw a scene straight out of
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By:
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on 5/21/2012
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The raw satellite imagery shown in these images was obtain from NASA and/or the US Geological Survey. Post-processing and production by www.terraprints.com (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Taking a day away from usual activities helps to restore a semblance of order to one’s life. Perspective is gained. Appreciation is elevated. New knowledge filters through the mind to lodge in memories.
Yesterday was a day of exploration into places unknown and challenging facts known. For me, it was also a time to take away snippets of useful information; the kind used in a twisted kind of way for story elements and character development. Those are the kind of relaxed and fun days that begin with one purpose and turn out as gold mines. Also, the experience felt much like going home to my dad’s family for the day.
We met up with friends, Sister’s distant cousins, in a small-town restaurant about an hour south of our locale. We had a nice lunch before heading south again to their home in an even smaller town. Our entire purpose for going on this jaunt was so that Sister could shoot the eclipse in an area where she could get good water-reflection shots.
During our scouting adventure, I was taken to places I’d never seen before; places that had escaped my notice when I’d lived in the area twenty years ago. As well, the cousins constantly pointed out places that related to their family histories.
“So and so built that ranch. Who is the latest owner, honey?” Cousin #2 asked as she pointed to the left to a grouping of buildings amid lush pastures. “The original barn’s gone now, of course.”
Gravel roads, dust flying from under the wheels of passing ranch trucks and cars, we made our way from reservoir to reservoir; each with points of interest. On the first we found swans that had been introduced to the waterways. The second, though smaller, was far more serene, more relaxing. Native ducks, muskrats, gulls, all played in the placid water. Further into the hills, we found rock chucks guarding their homes and new calves cavorting among adults.
At last we wound through forested hills up to MacDonald Lake, nestled in the Mission Range; a smaller lake than it used to be, only because it isn’t allowed to fill up the way it used to years ago. The deep teal, crystalline waters, surrounded by pine-covered slopes, beckoned to us. Trails radiated from its sides for the explorer who would challenge grizzlies in the area for prime fishing spots.
From the south-end approach I could only envision one scenario. I saw a scene straight out of
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By:
Claudette Young,
on 5/18/2012
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The Star Trek fanzine Spockanalia contained the first fan fiction in the modern sense of the term. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
An entire genre has developed itself over the past 40 years or so. Ever since the original Star Trek warped through space, we’ve toyed with the idea of all those stories that never got written about the characters that intrigued us, who captured out respect and hearts. The movement became known as Fan Fiction.
I doubt any serious TV viewer has passed up an opportunity to fantasize about what would happen if… and brought the conjecture back into the series fold as a full-blown story, whether it was written down or not. I’ve done it for years—had whole scripts with good plots, great characters, and even parts for all the regular characters. And the sad thing is that I could have done something with them, if only as fan fiction and not sent the script to the studio for consideration by that series’ team of writers.
It’s one of those “I should have” things that many of us live with on a daily basis. “I should have” gone to see… “I should have” known better than… Truth is, I had a girlfriend back in ’67 when I lived in LA, who’d just sold her script to Desilu Studios for a Star Trek episode. The day after she got word, she was murdered two blocks from our building. The incident sort of put me off Fan Fiction for a while.
Last year I sat down to write poetry of a minor competition—there were no prizes involved, but critiques. My piece didn’t do very well. The audience was too young. That happens more frequently than older writers want to believe.
I still have the poem, which I’ll share here in a moment. I went back through it and changed a few things here and there. It leaped out of the hard drive this morning, screaming at me to find it a home. Since I don’t have any markets (that I can find), I decided to drop it here in order to create a challenge for those who’re up for it.
Everyone has/had a favorite show from their childhood. Now’s your chance to create a little fan fiction to commemorate that show. Write a story in 200 words or less using your favorite character from that show. Or write a poem about said character in a new situation. Recapture the heart of the character and share it here with us.
There’s no prize involved; no judging either. We are merely sharing bits of imagination for the fun of it. Be sure to inform us at the end of the piece the name of the show and the character’s name if you haven’t used it in your story. That’s all there is too it. Don’t be shy. Branch out and explore some fun. I can hardly wait to see what everyone comes up with.
Here’s my poem and how I approached my character from those long ago days of the 60’s,
Rememberin
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Claudette Young,
on 5/16/2012
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Once upon a time I met a young, shy woman named Meena Rose. She’d come onto the Institute of Children’s Literature’s Writer’s Retreat to join our merry band of word workers. It took less than a half dozen visits for her to become a favorite attendee. Her wisdom belied her youth. Her perception and insight startled many of us who’d lived twice as long. And her gentleness melted our hearts.
I give you Meena Rose, who will surprise those who don’t as yet know her and who will bring smiles to those who already love her. Take it away, Meena.
Have you ever slowed down your train of thought?
Meena–A Desert Rose
By: Meena Rose
It just so happened that I was asking myself that very question a few days ago. I was curious what my thoughts would be on a topic if it was delivered in freeze frame segments to my mind. Would I reach the same reaction in the end or would it be different for having slowed down the input and the reaction to it?
There really was only one way to find out. It was to put the idea to the test and have a voice recorder on standby to record my immediate impressions before they faded. Since I normally neither watch nor listen to the news, I decided to select the first full story that I would tune into. Without further ado, here are the results. I will relay the segments and then reconstruct the story at the end.
Newscaster: This is about a little boy
Meena: Ummm, and, so?
Newscaster: Who ran
Meena: Really, where?
Newscaster: Into the street
Meena: Irresponsible parents, silly boy, will they ever learn. <I am feeling very agitated and angry>
Newscaster: In front of oncoming traffic
Meena: This does not bode well. <My gut actually heaved and I felt myself tense up>
Newscaster: Escaping from
Meena: Oh no, I am so sorry little boy. I hope you are safe. I am sorry for judging your parents too. <My arms get goosebumps>
Newscaster: His father who was
Meena: I knew it. You were just like all the little kids who escape the grips of their parents. <I am feeling flushed and angry again>
Newscaster: Chasing him with a knife.
Meena: Oh, no! Dear God, no! I am SO SO sorry kid. You should never have had to deal with that. Your dad is a monster you did not deserve. Please be alright kid, please be alright. .
Newscaster: A bystander
Meena: The story is not over? Please let it end well
Newscaster: Tackled the father
Meena
By:
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on 5/16/2012
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Yaks! (Photo credit: bdearth)
Yes, we are having a heat wave here in NW Montana. It hit 87° F. here today while we were out on photo safari. That’s rare for mid-May up here.
Today’s safari took us to places we don’t frequent often, to see what was available for the lens and the Muse. We visited The Garden of the Thousand Buddha’s down in Arlee before moving west. It’s a Buddhist temple area sitting on the Flathead Indian Reservation. The Garden is coming along, though inclement weather isn’t doing it any favors in exposed areas around the central huge Buddha.
A bison roaming about at the National Bison Range in Montana (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Most people suspect that we have bison ranches. In fact, we have the National Bison Range just southwest of the town of Charlo. Did you know that we have ranches running musk oxen and yak? Yep. We scouted out one such ranch down in the Camas Prairie area of Sanders County.
Along the way, we picnicked along the Flathead River and watched kayakers braving deep spring run-off waters. Osprey fished along those same turquoise waters, daring bald eagles to infringe on nesting territories.
Squirrels warned off those who came too close and pileated woodpeckers took their time with smaller trees a few yards from the car. Young quaking aspens waved at us, not having aged enough to rustle in the breeze. Smoke from a suspected new wild fire in the mountain range south of Highway 200 filled the valley with tension; not uncommon, merely early in the season.
Overall, it was a good day.
By:
Claudette Young,
on 5/14/2012
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Courtesy of BJ Jones Photography
Small excursions energize me most of the time. Over the weekend Sister and I took a quick trip to Central Washington. This was a trip planned for a couple of months. I could hardly afford the time away, I thought.
I did have numerous projects clamoring for my attention, things pushed aside or in need of initial contact. By Friday I’d concluded how much I really needed time away from computer and familiar surroundings.
I know we just had a break away with the Mountain Man Rendezvous, but what I didn’t need was stimulation and the constant movement of people around me. Instead, the need arose for personal quiet and peace, to allow me to recharge my internal batteries and my Muse.
The five hour drive Saturday morning began the recharging process. I sat back, listening to Sister’s running commentary of locations and wildlife passing by along Highway 2.
Mule deer and whitetail waited politely until they appeared in the rearview mirror before leaping across the road. Bald eagles kept pace with us from above the asphalt. Red-tailed hawks and osprey watched from their sky-scraper perches to make sure we left their territories quickly.
Rivers and small lakes rested in stillness, reflecting the forests lining their banks or the mountain summits that cast massive shadows across the sun-kissed mirrors. Canada geese nested with goslings yards from the blue heron and mallards, while red-winged blackbirds swayed precariously on last year’s cattail stalks.
The Kootenai River splashed along its bed heading back for the Canada. Clear skies colored with the peculiar shade of pale French blue spoke to us a warm temperatures and luscious clean air. The relaxation began, even as conversation flowed between us and the radio played softly in the background. There were no expectations other than our own. We were free for a little while.
Once we arrived at our destination, we had extra time to have a picnic. The city park in Connell was, as always, well-kept and ready for use. Under the shade of cottonwood trees we opened up the stocked cooler in the back and filled our plates. Sesame Garlic Chicken made room for homemade potato salad (a once monthly treat)
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Courtesy of BJ Jones Photography
Small excursions energize me most of the time. Over the weekend Sister and I took a quick trip to Central Washington. This was a trip planned for a couple of months. I could hardly afford the time away, I thought.
I did have numerous projects clamoring for my attention, things pushed aside or in need of initial contact. By Friday I’d concluded how much I really needed time away from computer and familiar surroundings.
I know we just had a break away with the Mountain Man Rendezvous, but what I didn’t need was stimulation and the constant movement of people around me. Instead, the need arose for personal quiet and peace, to allow me to recharge my internal batteries and my Muse.
The five hour drive Saturday morning began the recharging process. I sat back, listening to Sister’s running commentary of locations and wildlife passing by along Highway 2.
Mule deer and whitetail waited politely until they appeared in the rearview mirror before leaping across the road. Bald eagles kept pace with us from above the asphalt. Red-tailed hawks and osprey watched from their sky-scraper perches to make sure we left their territories quickly.
Rivers and small lakes rested in stillness, reflecting the forests lining their banks or the mountain summits that cast massive shadows across the sun-kissed mirrors. Canada geese nested with goslings yards from the blue heron and mallards, while red-winged blackbirds swayed precariously on last year’s cattail stalks.
The Kootenai River splashed along its bed heading back for the Canada. Clear skies colored with the peculiar shade of pale French blue spoke to us a warm temperatures and luscious clean air. The relaxation began, even as conversation flowed between us and the radio played softly in the background. There were no expectations other than our own. We were free for a little while.
Once we arrived at our destination, we had extra time to have a picnic. The city park in Connell was, as always, well-kept and ready for use. Under the shade of cottonwood trees we opened up the stocked cooler in the back and filled our plates. Sesame Garlic Chicken made room for homemade potato salad (a once monthly treat)
By:
Claudette Young,
on 5/13/2012
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Coming home from any trip, short or long, requires a person to reacquaint herself with location, premises, and obligations therein. Ask anyone who travels semi-regularly.
When I returned today from Central Washington, fatigue schlepped my belongings upstairs, unlocked the door and returned to the car for another load. Sister did the same. Once ensconced inside, again occupying our apartment, the next order of business was computer, email, and whatever had darkened our cyber thresholds during our absence.
Embedded within the hundred plus emails of my main inbox were two from editors. I didn’t need to read them. I knew they contained rejections. They’d arrived too quickly from new venues I’d submitted to the previous week.
Rejection (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
I was right. They sat there, staring at me, daring me to protest. I couldn’t. Rejections are a fact of life for every writer. The first time I saw Jane Yolen post about receiving a rejection for a story, I almost cheered; not because she’d received bad news, but because she’d received bad news was willing to flaunt that rejection on Facebook for all the world to see.
I gathered strength from that act of personal/professional bravery on Jane’s part. She was the first well-known working writer whom I’d seen admit to receiving that palest of pink slips from an editor. Hope sprang to my heart. Perhaps I wasn’t a terrible writer after all.
Now, all this time later, I’ve begun racking in my own pile of pale pink slips. I’ve an area of wall beside my desk which will soon be decorated with them as a constant reminder that if I stop receiving them, it’s because I’m not sending out any work for judgment. The reminder to keep writing will be lurking, available for loud recriminations should I forget.
After I’d dealt with mail, uploaded work to go out for guest blog this coming week and another small bit of brainstorming I’d done yesterday, As soon as I got up from a short nap, I returned to my secondary email inbox and found another rejection. The personal note was nice. Still, it will go on my Wall of Encouragement.
All of this rejection could have turned maudlin, but I was saved by Randy Hill. Randy is a super-duper poet with an engaging personality and talent. I found his comment on Claudsy’s Blog about dropping in to collect my Award. I was confused. Award?
I did as instructed and slipped over to his second abode, “Coudfactor5.” He’d posted a lovely piece about poetry and encouragement and how Jlynn Sheridan had honored him with a Liebster Award for creating and operating a ki
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on 5/11/2012
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Courtesy of BJ Jones Photography
SAD is in full-swing this month. That’s my MNINB group’s May challenge: Submit a piece A Day. So far I’m batting a thousand.
I’d just finished sending off a piece of Flash Fiction to Ether Books this morning when I became time conscious. What’s that? It means I got a closer look at the time and realized I still had zucchini bread to make before going into anything further.
You knew about the cookbook I’m writing, didn’t you? I’m just now getting around to putting together the recipes I’m responsible for in the book. We need to have all of the modified and personally designed recipes finished in a couple of weeks so that I can get them plugged into the manuscript. Anyone who thinks writing a cookbook is easy should watch Julie and Julia. It has nightmare potential.
I’m fortunate. I only have responsibility for a few of the recipes, aside from doing the editing. My two partners have borne the brunt of the cooking endeavors, and one of those—sister of mine—is doing all the photos. Can’t beat that with a stick, to quote grandpa.
I was using a newly developed recipe for my Zucchini-Oatmeal Nut Bread and it turned out beautifully. The whole-ground wheat flour kept it a deep golden brown as it rose in the oven. The apple sauce replacing the oil in our healthy version sent its aroma wafting across the kitchen seeking nostrils for appreciation. That nuttiness of crushed walnuts lent its own aspect to the bread’s prospective deliciousness.
Back to the point: the bread was doing its thing in the oven along with a tray of tiny Bundt pans of bread batter. While they baked, I rode the recumbent bike, listened to the radio playing in the background, and thought about those items still on my editorial calendar for the day.
Karaoke thoughts entered the picture when the radio came on. We don’t have such a machine. We do it the old-fashioned way, personal memory and raw voice. We choose not to use a microphone. No one in his right mind would want to hear us sing anyway.
Which brings me back to the bike. I try to do three plus miles a day on the bike. When I’m pedaling, I use the time to plan out stories, read writer’s magazines, or plot schedules. Getting organized will bring about such aberrations of thought.
And what I was considering today was how much like cooking writing really is. A recipe is nothing more than a plot, with a beginning, middle, and ending.
The ingredients list represents all of those necessary characters, each with dimensional measurements and traits. The setting and plot twists appear in the directions for combining all of those ingredients. Bowls are involved. Mixers take precedence over the future of the ingredients, all the while a specific order of action must be followed, so that the plot is satisfied, and t
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Claudette Young,
on 5/10/2012
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choices (Photo credit: WhatiMom)
During the past few days on Claudsy’s Blog, discussions have risen about many issues. Definitions and roles began this journey of the week. A killer interview with Walt Wojtanik kicked over a massive rock to cause a landslide of hits and comments for both Walt and me.
I announced a guest blog that I’d done over in Pat McDermott’s kitchen, and took on questions about illiteracy in America yesterday. Sort of looks like I’ve been spinning the wheel of subject chances, doesn’t it?
The idea of subject chances sums it up very well. Claudsy’s Blog has always been a morphing kind of place. Like most people, I have whims. At present I’m redefining parts of blogs, types of writing projects, and future possibilities. I’m exploring both the writing world and myself.
My explorations have created a need to jump hurdles of my own making. Trained as a sociologist, with degrees in psychology, etc., my vision of the world tends to be a bit more esoteric than some people’s. I can’t look at something and see only one aspect. Too many factors go into the overall impact of each subject’s aspects.
Character building, for instance, by my current definition, refers to characters created for my stories. Developing a teenager for a short story or novel, as one example, requires knowing how a child is likely to live in a specific region, with specific types of parents, living with specific limitations, boundaries, etc. Every good writer builds a character with care and craftsmanship.
Finding character traits and circumstances doesn’t always take vast amounts of time. This afternoon a story came across my news feed, which carried one of the strongest characters I’ve seen in a very long time. The young lady in question was perfect for an idea that I’d been working on for a while.
A 15 year-old girl suffers from a rare, debilitating disease that has determined her entire life. She cannot eat as others do. A combination of an autoimmune disease and severe food allergies forbids her to eat anything by mouth other than potatoes. Sounds fictional, doesn’t it?
Her hurdle of choice is to become a professional chef. This lovely young woman wants to cook for those who can enjoy the food she’s denied. And she’s well on her way.
Talk about character. This is the type of model that makes for exquisite story characters. They are real, living and breathing in the world.
You might ask what kind of story can be built around such information. Here are some of the plotlines already under consideration.
maths (Photo credit: Sean MacEntee)
While I was on Facebook this morning, I read a short conversation that took place yesterday between two of my closer friends; one from years past and close to my heart, the other newly formed and also close enough to hear my heartbeat.
What struck me as interesting was the subject of their discussion. They talked about poetry. Not just any poetry, but about well-known Sufi poets, both those of many decades or more past, as well as those of more contemporary times.
That subject isn’t one you can find lying around the average library when seeking good reading material. It struck me as relevant, too, that my older friend hasn’t been reading from these poets for very long. He’d discovered them after taking a recommendation from a newer acquaintance. An early morning discussion of Sufi philosophy isn’t usual FB fare, but it happens sometimes between educated people.
I realize that this doesn’t seem significant to the average reader. What makes it significant is that it came on the heels of a report I read this past week on the Illiteracy Reality that was released recently. The numbers on that report would make anyone stand up and protest or sit down in total discouragement.
According to the latest and greatest research, the current number of American adults, classified as functionally illiterate increases by 2.25 million each year.
Stop and think about that for just one second. It equates to having an equivalent population to the city of St. Louis joining the ranks of those who’re reading below a 5th grade level. The number of people who are able to do routine math is even more dismal.
Here’s another factoid for you. When I worked corporate, albeit many years ago for one of the Fortune 500, I was asked to simplify my internal memos. Why? Because, my informant replied, the language structure accepted by upper echelon never exceeds 8th grade reading level. Everyone else, used 5th grade level to communicate.
I was stunned, to say the least. I suppose it comes from jargon needs. Jargon? Oh yeah. Every industry as its own jargon/language. Even fast food joints. This verbal shorthand makes communicating between employees faster, easier, and less likely to confuse the employees.
My question i
Chris Smith The Diabetic Chef® Autographing his first cookbook: Cooking with The Diabetic Chef® (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
This is a quick heads-up for whomever drops in today. I have a guest blog up this morning on Pat McDermott’s all things cooking website.
I disclose my experience with writing a cookbook for the first time. It hasn’t been the hardest project I’ve taken up, but it has been the tastiest. When you develop new recipes that hold restrictions like cakes with no sugar or low sodium meat entrees, cooking becomes a double challenge.
That’s what my cookbook partners and I are dealing with. At the end of the process, and before the last “T” is crossed or “I” dotted, we’re having a Taste-Testing party with our appetizers and desserts, invitation only. That’s a lot of work for senior women with a passion for food, but it’s work that satisfies in more than one way.
If you get the chance today, stop by Pat’s kitchen to see what’s cooking. If nothing else, you’ll find sumptuous recipes with full photos. Food lovers beware. You may be there a while once you walk in the door.
Enjoy yourselves and your little detour today.
A bientot,
Claudsy
0 Comments on Guest Blogging with Food as of 5/9/2012 9:48:00 PM
this book CHANGED MY LIFE.
Coco, you’re not alone in that. Now if I can only stick with it and make it through without a pause this time, I’ll be doing good. I’m so looking forward to getting past Week 5, even though I need to begin again on page 1.