One more time. Nice and Slow

I'm going to type nice and slow so that the people who don't get it might finally understand.

As writers, we MUST respect the copyright of other writers.

That means:

1) No posting articles anywhere in any forum, online anywhere, photocopied for your whole class to read, or used in any public forum at all. Yes, that even includes Yahoo Groups.


2) Just because the article is helpful and good and inspiring and wonderful... doesn't mean you get to give it away for free without the RIGHT to do so. Only the author has that right. (Oh and by the way, just because you like a picture doesn't give you the right to repost it either... go find a free photo site... see that pic up above? Free photo site.)


3) All those wonderful stories that you forward on, beautiful poems and essays.. they were actually written by someone. Take the time to either ensure that you have the RIGHT to forward it on or that the author has allowed it to be forwarded at will by people who can't come up with something that briliant. Oh and pegging "anonymous" on the end does not absolve you of the responsibility of respecting another writer's copyright. I can forgive Uncle Larry and Sister Sue and Papa Fred for forwarding something on... they aren't writers. It's like if you hear of someone forging cheques... how much WORSE is it if that person also works at a bank? (Now, forwarding jokes is another matter... see below... but you have to ask yourself, is this a funny essay that someone deserves payment for, or is this a joke. Here's the test: can you memorize it and retell it at the water cooler? No? Then it's an essay.)


4) Learn the proper definition of PUBLIC DOMAIN. It does not mean "out there in the world". It means "Material that is uncopyrighted, whose copyright has expired, or is uncopyrightable" this includes government publications, many jokes. Here's a refresher for you.


5) Know the different between copyright and assigning rights. When you create a work, you always have the copyright, UNLESS you are an employee and creating that work for your employer. If you are not an employee, then the copyright is yours to ASSIGN THE RIGHT TO COPY. That's where we get into first rights, all rights (which isn't giving away your copyright, you've just given them the right to do what they want with the work, but the copyright is still yours... think of it this way: You own the cow, but you've sold all the milk), web rights, archive rights... and while we're at it... that copyright only passes to the purchaser (the publication) when they PAY YOU.


6) Plaigiarism = BAD WRITER. It is defined as taking anything that you didn't write YOURSELF and claiming that you did write it.


Ok. I'm done my rant. I was just set off once again today by seeing yet another writer copy and paste an entire article in an email and send it to a list of writers.

WTH People?!?!

Please Be Patient With This Space

I'm on deadline and Freaking The Heck Out.

Half my book is due to my editors on Friday and I'm endlessly fiddling with it because what? You want to see half of my book in the half-written stage? Why don't you just ask to see my underwear? Or in a bathing suit in the middle of winter after not shaving for a month?

Seriously.

In this storm...

For you are who you are. No matter where I am.

The View from the Middle of the Road

Have you ever wondered what is the worst affliction in our society today? Is it the evils of terrorists? The stories in the news of infanticide? Famines and war? There is something I feel is much more pervasive in our lives. It has stained us as we look at the world through its lens.

Indifference and mediocrity.

When you watch the news at night, and see the horrors of the war in Afghanistan, or news of fathers and mothers killing their children, what do you do? You hear it, but it doesn’t really affect you. It is only a factoid from TV; just something that happens in this world. How many years now have certain places taken up residence in the vocabulary of newscasters: Gaza Strip, Jerusalem, Afghanistan, Iraq, Somalia. What have we as individuals actually done? Is there really anything that we can do?

Yes, of course. I don’t think that we can single-handedly stop violence, or the hunger in the world, but we can drop our feelings of indifference, and sense of mediocrity. We can tune in to this world, see that we are all connected and all the same. Since I have become a mother, this has never seemed clearer. I am not disparaging those of you who are not mothers, but ask any mother you know. You simply cannot look at the world without your child in it.

I made the “mistake” one day of watching one of those World Vision shows. Where the producers seem to have chosen the worst case scenarios and made families look as pitiful as possible. When I realized suddenly, that it was simply a picture of a mother holding her baby son, the same size as my (at the time) 3 month old. Except this boy was 18 months old and dying of hunger.

Looking in her eyes, I saw that she knew he son would die and she knew she could not stop it. I looked immediately into the eyes of my own son and desperately tried to imagine what must be going through her mind. She had carried this child within in her for 9 months, feeling his kicks and hiccups. She had laboured for hours giving birth with no drugs. She had held her wet, screaming child to her breast and perhaps nursed him. She saw his first smile and felt his fingers curl around hers. And now she would watch him die slowly. Creep away from her as his frail little body gave out on him.

I could no longer feel indifference. I felt this mother's pain and knew that we were the same. We had the same hopes and dreams for our sons, and hers would not be realized. I could not continue about my petty business for the day until I, too, had mourned for the loss of her son.

What is the cure?

Compassion.

We have lost our compassion in this global community we live in. We watch TV, as though it is only a picture, when, we should be considering each image as a reflection of life. It is one thing to see the effect of war and famine in our world. It is another to smell the acidic smoke from burning buildings or feel the touch of flies on your face from infested water. We need to regain compassion that we have lost. Reach out to the suffering and not assume that others will. Give until we know the pain that they feel. Go out on limbs to rescue the lost. Not fear to let our voice and our single voice alone be heard.

They came for the Communists, and I
didn't object - For I wasn't a Communist;
They came for the Socialists, and I
didn't object - For I wasn't a Socialist;
They came for the labor leaders, and I
didn't object - For I wasn't a labor leader;
They came for the Jews, and I
didn't object - For I wasn't a Jew;
Then they came for me - And there
was no one left to object.

Martin Niemoller, German Protestant
Pastor, 1892-1984

The BIG FLASHING NEON SIGN

Ok God. I get it. I need to shut up. Gotitthanksbye.

Over the weekend I had Minor Meltdown #876.

Bills! Book deadline! Work! Sick baby! Husband/job thing! Indecisiveness!

I couldn't even pinpoint what I was frustrated about. I'd get half-way through a line of criticism and realize I didn't know what I was talking about, or I'd changed my mind. I was trying to make logic out of a yarn of insanity, spit and crazeeee glue.

After Major Man beat a hasty retreat (who wouldn't?) and I calmed down (read: started to feel stupid), I turned to my bible for a little reading. And I picked up a devotional. Then I read a bit in an eNewsletter I get for Christian women. Then I read another devotional-type book.

And I swear on a stack of youknowhats that every single verse I came across said: "Think before you speak. Shut up a lot more." (sic)

Got it. Shutting up more.

There were 4 in the bed and the little one said...

... I have a fever.

Four of us were in the bed last night. It's a good thing it's a King sized bed. After putting the baby and 6yo to bed, I went to have a bath. I came out and the baby's door was open. Hubby had gone in to get her and determined she was too hot, so he left the door open.

Yes, she was too hot. She had a fever.

Cheeks red, nose runny, whole body dry and hot. Yup. Fever. I don't usually take temperatures, I just go with the "radiating heat" method. Is she radiating? Yep.

So I got some water and laid down with her. It took a while, but she went to sleep in the crook of my arm. Then she wanted to lay on top of me, then on her belly on the bed, then in my arm... you get the idea. Eventually she slept. Then hubby came to bed. A little later my son came in... there wasn't much room but he brought his own pillow and blanket and slept at the foot of the bed.

It wasn't a situation that was conducive to mommies and daddies getting much sleep.

At around four it was hubby's turn to rock the baby back to sleep... that lasted a few minutes until she puked on him. Then I took over. Finally she was out. I think she might have slept in until 8 or so. My son was up early saying "it's time to get up now".

Uh, no, it's not...

But he's such a good kid, he just went and played video games in bed while I got a little more sleep.

And since it was Saturday morning... it was my sleep-in day! Major Man got up and took care of the kids and I slept as hard as I could. When I woke up, the baby was already down for her nap. Woot!

Why am I telling you this?

Because I had a plan for today. I was going to forgo the sleep-in and instead sit in my room and write. I had a thing to go to at 1:30 and about 10,000 words to write.

But live intervenes. It always does. And it's important, I think, to do your best to roll with the punches. To know which balls to drop, which to set down, which to keep in the air and which to hold tightly.

Forgiveness

Forgiveness is such a complicated thing when we try to analyze it. We pick it apart like an old wool sweater so we can see just how it's put together. Then we try to make it fit our body, wrapping it around ourselves and trying to re-knit it together.

But it never works that way. It is uncomfortable, lumpy and there are holes that the winds of doubt blow through, chilling you to the bone.

I'm not talking about forgiveness of others - I am talking about forgiveness of self.

In some ways it is easier to forgive others than yourself. You can push something aside and with enough will it seems you can forgive it. But with yourself, it's as though you wear glasses tinged with guilt and you see each action as a reflection on your guilt.

So what is forgiveness? It's not something that you can put on, like that old sweater. It's not something you can feel or hold in your hand.

After spending quite a bit of time praying today, I figured a few things out... or rather, God helped me to figure them out.

1. Forgiveness must be received - it's not just given.

2. It is received in your heart and it must be received - God expects you to receive it.

3. God does not want us wandering around this world without receiving forgiveness. "Come to me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light." (Matthew 11:28)

None of this absolves you from having to face the consequences of any actions here on earth. But it does help to focus you on the eternal rather than the earthly. In many ways it increases the weight of personal responsibility because you know you cannot, should not and will not avoid that personal earthly consequence, but that it does not change your value in the eyes of God.

Resources to be a Busy Writing Mother

Someone remarked recently that she didn't know how I did all the things I do. Let me let you in on a few secrets:

1. I don't know either.
2. I can't stand to be "not busy".
3. I have a wonderful support system to pick up the slack.

I think that #3 is the most important one. I have a husband who will watch the kids if I'm at a political meeting or out at a Pampered Chef show or needing some writing time alone. I have a mother who can be counted on to provide childcare (even if she has to rearrange her day) if I really need it.

Whenever someone asks me how I do what I do or what helps me do it, I am usually stuck for answers. So here's my attempt:

Support Groups: I love my online groups. My top three are The Writing Mother, PWAC and Freelance Success.

Time Savers: Grocery delivery service, Chapters Wish List (so I don't overspend!), Blackberry so I know what I have in my inbox before I get home.

Associations: PWAC, WGA, CAFE. (My favorite resources for professional development.)

Great books: Shirley Jump's How To Publish Your Articles, Terry Whalin's Book Proposals That $ell.

Suicide of Reason in Canada

Another column is up at Pajamas Media. I am quite happy that it's gotten 37 comments so far... and has been quoted on several other blogs!

Freedom of Speech in Canada Under Attack (again)

A publisher I happen to know was recently called to the Canadian Human Rights Commission to answer for his actions to publish something that someone found offensive. There are three videos available of his testimony. I’d suggest watching them in order though the first and third are particularly impressive.

http://tinyurl.com/3b6fgg

While I hope not to offend anyone… the fact remains that as North Americans we have the absolute right to publish our opinions in print and online and NOT be questioned by our governments. It’s perfectly legal for me to say “All blue eyed people are inherently dumb.” It’s not ok to incite someone to inflict violence on another. “Kill all blue eyed people.” But the latest thing to do – at least in Canada – is to complain to the HRC and cause the person you don’t like to have to jump through legal hoops at their expense. If you listen to the first video you’ll hear the publishers comments about the Human Rights Commission and how its intent was to be the ones standing up for people who had deeds committed against them (not allowed to rent an apartment because they are Chinese, fired for their religions beliefs…) but it has now become the place where complaints that don’t stand up in a court of law go to be heard.

Because he asked me to...

As if "pitching a tent" doesn't also sound dirty.

Hilarious Essay

In the past two years I've been on almost 20 flights. So I found this essay particularly side-splitting:

A User’s Manual to Seat 21C
By Wayne Curtis
CONGRATULATIONS ON SELECTING SEAT 21C! This manual is intended to familiarize you with the many options available to you.

If you've flown at all, you'll recognize yourself and your fellow travellers.

Note to writers: Analyze this essay. Do you see how it was all tell and no show? Isn't that breaking all the rules? Yes, but it's still so effective because he is pulling out every tiny detail and magnifying it, showing the absurd in the ordinary.

I rose this morning into a new year. A new, fresh, unburdened year. I can hardly remember what it was like to think that 2008 was so far away. Now she is here.

In Calgary it was cold this morning. -15C. I went out to the barn, which is quite a drive, to see my mare. She’s being ridden by a local trainer and she costs every spare penny I have. We are struggling, but I haven’t let her go yet. I don’t know if I can. The trainer calls her “difficult”. She’s only been ridden for 45 days, so there’s still time to find a nugget of talent in her. But she’s difficult. She’s a bit temperamental and she loses focus when she should be working. She isn’t sure that she likes someone else in control. In short – she’s like me in horse form. It’s hard to explain to my husband why I scrimp and save to pay to keep her. If there’s hope for her, there’s hope for me.

This will be my year of hope. Not just professionally but personally as well. I am choosing to be a better person this year. For a little while now I’ve been praying before bed each night, “show me what I am supposed to do, Lord, please help me to stay in your will” and for a long time I’ve just been asking and praying without any sort of answer. But the other night I received an answer. Clear like the blue sky and in a whisper like the wind I heard “make time for me”. That’s what I need to do. My mind is so busy these days, trying to figure out how to make time for writing and working out and getting to bed on time and getting to work on time … it’s all about the time. But I leave out God. I multi-task him by trying to fit him in to nooks and crannies. But He wants more. He wants me to make some time for Him.

So that’s what I’m doing for 2008. I’m making time for God so that he can make something of my time. It’s no longer an option to miss church and it’s no longer an option to not pray at night or in the morning. The first book I open each day will be my bible or devotional.

But even deeper than that… I am turning over the sins of bigotry, racism, hate and judgment to God. I’ve allowed it in my life. I’ve allowed people to make racist jokes in my presence and I haven’t told them to stop. I’ve allowed people to denigrate both women and men in my presence and I will not let it continue. Has anyone read Maya Angelou? There is a quote from one of her books that I always remember:

“I will not sit in a group of black friends and hear racial pejoratives against whites. I will not hear "honky." I will not hear "Jap." I will not hear "kike." I will not hear "greaser." I will not hear "dago." I will not hear it. As soon as I hear it, I say, "Excuse me, I have to leave. Sorry." Or if it's in my home, I say, "You have to leave. I can't have that. That is poison, and I know it is poison, and you're smearing it on me. I will not have it." Now, it's not an easy thing. And one doesn't all of a sudden sort of blossom into somebody who's courageous enough to say that. But you do start little by little. And you sit in a room, and somebody says -- if you're all white, and somebody says, "Well, the niggers -- " You may not have the courage right then, but you say, "Whooh! My goodness! It's already eight o'clock. I have to go," and leave. Little by little, you develop courage. You sit in a room, and somebody says, "Well, you know what the Japs did then, and what they're doing now." Say, "Mm-hmm! I have to go. My goodness! It's already six o'clock." Leave. Continue to build the courage. Sooner or later, you'll be able to say out loud, "Just a minute. I defend that person. I will not have gay bashing, lesbian bashing. Not in my company. I will not do it."

This will be my year of courage. I will be courageous and tell the people I love that I love them. I will be courageous and forgive what I thought was unforgivable. Because there is no joy, no honour, no peace in holding on to anything, waiting to be asked for forgiveness. If you have a moment, I’d love to share a story I read last night.

Matthew 18:23 – 35

"For this reason the kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who wished to settle accounts with his slaves. When he had begun to settle them, one who owed him ten thousand talents was brought to him. But since he did not have the means to repay, his lord commanded him to be sold, along with his wife and children and all that he had, and repayment to be made. So the slave fell to the ground and prostrated himself before him, saying, 'Have patience with me and I will repay you everything.' And the lord of that slave felt compassion and released him and forgave him the debt. But that slave went out and found one of his fellow slaves who owed him a hundred denarii; and he seized him and began to choke him, saying, 'Pay back what you owe.' So his fellow slave fell to the ground and began to plead with him, saying, 'Have patience with me and I will repay you.' But he was unwilling and went and threw him in prison until he should pay back what was owed. "So when his fellow slaves saw what had happened, they were deeply grieved and came and reported to their lord all that had happened. Then summoning him, his lord said to him, 'You wicked slave, I forgave you all that debt because you pleaded with me. ‘Should you not also have had mercy on your fellow slave, in the same way that I had mercy on you?' And his lord, moved with anger, handed him over to the torturers until he should repay all that was owed him. My heavenly Father will also do the same to you, if each of you does not forgive his brother from your heart."

I’m reading Max Lucado’s book, Every Day Deserves A Chance, and hearing this story struck home for me: the forgiven must forgive. So I choose forgiveness for every transgression committed against me, while I ask for forgiveness as well. I have certainly not been innocent and have many times brought everything on myself. But God has forgiven me and I forgive others. This will be my year of forgiveness.

I asked the other writers on Mama Needs A Book Contract to share their one wish and I thought I had shared mine, but this morning when I woke up I knew there was more I should share. So I have shared. I hope there is something you can receive.

God bless your year.

The Baby. She Eats.

My son was not like this. He was an early talker and late walker. He didn't like things being put in his mouth and he didn't have an inclination to put anything in there other than food and maybe his fingers and toes.

But this one? This girl baby? She eats everything.

We were trying to have some coloring time this afternoon. The moment my back was turned she ate the marker. We know better than to give her crayons (very easy to chew) and I guess I thought that the markers would be better... or at least taste worth. But no. They taste just fine thankyouverymuchandcanIhaveanother?

But as a bonus... she does a great job cleaning cheerios off the floor. Who says we need a dog?

The Big Question

M.: Can I have one more chocolate?

Me: No, you can't. It's bed time. Besides, too much chocolate will make you have bad dreams.

M.: But what about Jesus?

Me: ....

M.: But what about Jesus?

Me: What about him?

M.: Didn't you say that he can make bad dreams go away if we pray?

Me: Well. Yes. But, um,... well, just no more chocolate before bed.

M.: But, mommmyyyyy...

Me: Did you just call me butt-mommy? (distraction! distraction!)

Shiver-worthy

Hee hee hee

(It has to be said, my hubby isn't this pathetic...)

It's one of those days...

When a handful of
chocolate chips
might suffice as dinner.

While the children are eating
I turn the TV on for them and then
lay face down on the couch
and wish it were bedtime.

My greatest desire
is to curl up under the bed.

I wish people would stop looking at me
like I'm some kind of adult.
Hello, there's still a kid in here.

And even the chocolate chip cookies
my husband made today
are not making me happy.

Deadlines glare,
threatening to overwhelm me.

Whose life is this?

Who is in charge?

Because surely it ain't me.

Owie, says my pride

I know, pride isn't a great thing to have, I don't think of myself as prideful... but I think I'm used to being around kind people that this stung.

I'm here in Oklahoma City at the moment, covering a big horse show and writing stories that I find and taking the odd picture. They don't need my photos, they just need my writing, which is fine, I like practicing with my camera. Well there is a photographer here who is really good and he was letting me pick his brain a little. He saw me reading my camera's instruction manual and laughed a bit, saying "uh-oh, that's never a good sign."

I said I wasn't really a photographer, I'm just a writer. He checked over my camera, said it was nice, asked me some questions.. more techincal questions that I didn't have answers to.. I felt kind of like an idiot. All I wanted to know was what was a good setting for taking pictures inside. Like a good ISO for the arena we were in, was sort of f-stop.... I was trying not to be too dense and was really trying to understand what he was saying. I don't think he was trying to be mean.

Then I did a dumb thing, I said "do you want to see my pictures?" and I showed him some on my web site. The comments were "sorry, that's so over-exposed I can't really make it out" or "wow, that cat is super-over-exposed" or "you have to connect with the eyes, sorry, that one doesn't have the impact it could". I can't really say I'm devestated... I knew I wasn't an awesome photographer... but I really felt like crying. I didn't expect praise for the photos... but maybe I expected some sort of praise for my efforts... a start... for trying... I think my composition is good, but it's the science I can't get. I don't understand inverse relationships between this setting and that setting and how the color works and the workings of the camera.

It really made me think about how I might approach a new writer. New creatives/writers/photographers are all very similar... they are fragile beings with tender little wings and if you poke too hard at them they will bruise.

I think I'll be taking my photos down from my web site, I can't bear to have them there if real photographers are looking that critically at them. I feel stupid for showing my pictures to him, he must think I'm a real dolt.

But I've wanted to take some photography courses .... but who has the bloody time! I can't do it all and my photography has just been lower on the totem pole, I like it and I enjoy it... but I'm not yet a photographer. It's not as natural to me.

I just wish... I don't know.. he could have been a little kinder. But hey, now I know I have a tendency to overexpose and "blow out my highlights".