...he left the gate open, and the coyote seized her opportunity. We found you by the orchard. We are meat eaters too, and this half-chewed reminder proves everyone loves a turkey dinner. Happy coyote, happy coyote pups. Happy vultures, happy crows.
The three remaining guinea hens stick close to Christmas.
LESSON LEARNED
Predators and opportunists live by their own rules. If you don't want to lose something you've carefully nurtured, make sure you maintain your fences and close the GATES.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Dances with Chickens
(Thank you Reg for the title)
Dances with Chickens
One day I will have an immaculate garden
with a deer fence, six-feet high
made of silvered wood. A sprinkler
system I turn on with the twist of my wrist
and squash that don't lie in a green mattress of grass.
One day I will write full pages of work, my train
of thought uninterrupted by the Simpson's latest mischief
or a request for food.
I might keep our rooster, even though he dances and flies
at me with his spurs,
his 20-hen harem long gone
to the slaughterhouse.
What will he do with those nesting boxes? Who
will he show the worm to, no
favorite to coo?
One day we will lie by a pool together
my husband and I, and wish for the noise of teenage boys
even though the price is a wrinkled pool liner
and a bottom gritty from unwashed feet.
The turkeys come toward my daughter, shaking
the feed bucket. They are so loyal and grateful
and wary.
One day it will be silent here, no bumping into dogs
the kids insisted on, no disgruntled cats
only the obsessive hum of neighborhood mowers.
You all will be gone from the messy garden
and vases I put down
will remain on the counter, unbroken
in a house
as still as a snapshot.
On strong, long wings
my children fly.
Dances with Chickens
One day I will have an immaculate garden
with a deer fence, six-feet high
made of silvered wood. A sprinkler
system I turn on with the twist of my wrist
and squash that don't lie in a green mattress of grass.
One day I will write full pages of work, my train
of thought uninterrupted by the Simpson's latest mischief
or a request for food.
I might keep our rooster, even though he dances and flies
at me with his spurs,
his 20-hen harem long gone
to the slaughterhouse.
What will he do with those nesting boxes? Who
will he show the worm to, no
favorite to coo?
One day we will lie by a pool together
my husband and I, and wish for the noise of teenage boys
even though the price is a wrinkled pool liner
and a bottom gritty from unwashed feet.
The turkeys come toward my daughter, shaking
the feed bucket. They are so loyal and grateful
and wary.
One day it will be silent here, no bumping into dogs
the kids insisted on, no disgruntled cats
only the obsessive hum of neighborhood mowers.
You all will be gone from the messy garden
and vases I put down
will remain on the counter, unbroken
in a house
as still as a snapshot.
On strong, long wings
my children fly.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Brakes
Yesterday I Googled my name. An interesting look in the public mirror - everyone should do it once in a while. What struck me was how differently layered the references were. And then one leaped out at me. A Detective Fiction website that had copies of Motherhunt for sale. This is how they described me:
"An American author who has lived in England most of her adult life. Caused something of a splash with collectors and readers with the publication of her first novel."
My first thought was - "I wish someone would have told me at the time that I'd made a splash." I began to write the novel when I was 29, a time when my emotions were governed by anxiety and confusion. I had a new baby far from home, and no clue as to how to be a Mom and a writer and earn a living at the same time. Two books, two babies, and two miscarriages in the space of four years - that was intense.
There came a time after I'd written Butterfly Eyes when I made a choice. I remember it clearly, sitting on the bottom step of my home in Bedfordshire with my baby daughter in my arms. I so wanted to get upstairs and write. I yearned to write. I yearned to publish, to go on book tours, to attend writing soirees - to lead a full life as a writer. To give myself completely to my craft. But who would raise my babies? A nanny could not give her what I wanted to give her; I had specific values and qualities that I wanted to instill in my children, and only I could do that job.
My frustration at not being able to write was so overpoweringly fierce, I wanted to abandon my job as a mother, to walk away. And that's when I made a key decision.
I'd learned that my books had a shelf-life and a life-cycle. My childrens' life-cycles would be longer than the books'. The books had to come second. That, I knew, would have consequences. I wouldn't be able to write as fully as I needed to write in order to fulfill my potential in my profession. I would have to focus on other, more mundane, things.
Writing time, henceforth, became tucked here and there. It got stuffed in the cracks. I felt confused, my identity as a writer stripped away, piece by piece, until it no longer mattered. What ascended instead was something I didn't value when I viewed myself as purely a writer - the healing work. Ten years of self-healing, then helping others to heal. Like a glass shattered against a marble floor, I picked myself up piece by piece and healed myself back together. Instead of a glass, there is now cut crystal, sparkling with rainbows.
Through it all I've written personally, kept stacks of diaries, this blog on and off, written and published short stories, written another novel, a non-fiction book proposal, had a radio show. And for the last six months, since beginning to teach for Healing in America, I've been on a writing fast, and it's uncomfortable in some ways, and feels exactly right in others. As a person, my largest inner cogs have been turning, re-gearing, to put my personality in a completely different place.
Last week, my son left for a month with his grandparents, and I cried at the airport. University will be coming around so fast. The crack in the cliff-face, that tunnel upwards into a meadow of writing, where I can once again explore the potential I chose against with the baby in my arms - that's within view.
What's really cool? All the healing work I've done for myself and others over the intervening years has put me in a very peaceful, centered, and connected place. Writing now comes from a new well. A very deep, and full aquifer. I see people in a completely different way. I react to stress with peaceful resources. I deal with conflict with strength and clarity. That's the crystal. That's ten years of healing and becoming non-attached to the label of 'writer'.
It's a completely different space.
And the writing that flows from there will be ...
"An American author who has lived in England most of her adult life. Caused something of a splash with collectors and readers with the publication of her first novel."
My first thought was - "I wish someone would have told me at the time that I'd made a splash." I began to write the novel when I was 29, a time when my emotions were governed by anxiety and confusion. I had a new baby far from home, and no clue as to how to be a Mom and a writer and earn a living at the same time. Two books, two babies, and two miscarriages in the space of four years - that was intense.
There came a time after I'd written Butterfly Eyes when I made a choice. I remember it clearly, sitting on the bottom step of my home in Bedfordshire with my baby daughter in my arms. I so wanted to get upstairs and write. I yearned to write. I yearned to publish, to go on book tours, to attend writing soirees - to lead a full life as a writer. To give myself completely to my craft. But who would raise my babies? A nanny could not give her what I wanted to give her; I had specific values and qualities that I wanted to instill in my children, and only I could do that job.
My frustration at not being able to write was so overpoweringly fierce, I wanted to abandon my job as a mother, to walk away. And that's when I made a key decision.
I'd learned that my books had a shelf-life and a life-cycle. My childrens' life-cycles would be longer than the books'. The books had to come second. That, I knew, would have consequences. I wouldn't be able to write as fully as I needed to write in order to fulfill my potential in my profession. I would have to focus on other, more mundane, things.
Writing time, henceforth, became tucked here and there. It got stuffed in the cracks. I felt confused, my identity as a writer stripped away, piece by piece, until it no longer mattered. What ascended instead was something I didn't value when I viewed myself as purely a writer - the healing work. Ten years of self-healing, then helping others to heal. Like a glass shattered against a marble floor, I picked myself up piece by piece and healed myself back together. Instead of a glass, there is now cut crystal, sparkling with rainbows.
Through it all I've written personally, kept stacks of diaries, this blog on and off, written and published short stories, written another novel, a non-fiction book proposal, had a radio show. And for the last six months, since beginning to teach for Healing in America, I've been on a writing fast, and it's uncomfortable in some ways, and feels exactly right in others. As a person, my largest inner cogs have been turning, re-gearing, to put my personality in a completely different place.
Last week, my son left for a month with his grandparents, and I cried at the airport. University will be coming around so fast. The crack in the cliff-face, that tunnel upwards into a meadow of writing, where I can once again explore the potential I chose against with the baby in my arms - that's within view.
What's really cool? All the healing work I've done for myself and others over the intervening years has put me in a very peaceful, centered, and connected place. Writing now comes from a new well. A very deep, and full aquifer. I see people in a completely different way. I react to stress with peaceful resources. I deal with conflict with strength and clarity. That's the crystal. That's ten years of healing and becoming non-attached to the label of 'writer'.
It's a completely different space.
And the writing that flows from there will be ...
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
An Apache saying
I've been following the series "We Shall Remain" on PBS. Last week they featured Geronimo, and one of his grandsons made this statement: "As Apaches, everything we do is sacred."
I bet there were some viewers who thought: "what makes you so special?"
A fascinating book for me at the moment is Lynne McTaggart's The Intention Experiment. The book shows clearly, through the thousands of scientific experiments cited, how intention can have a profound effect on our world.
Through quantum entanglement we are always interacting with other parts of our universe than the one we are aware of at the present time. Not only have studies shown that people have a direct effect on their environment with the thoughts they focus on, they can also alter their brains which become measurably thicker in areas which receive intense focus.
If everything we think has an impact, then everything we do has a definite effect. We are working with the whole, if only in small ways, at every moment of our existence.
In native culture, you make a prayer before you do anything. In today's parlance, you set an intention. An intention is a specific request, which is then released to a higher energy which orders it to the highest possible outcome.
The Apaches and native peoples remember it; others will have to re-discover it. Everything we do is sacred.
I bet there were some viewers who thought: "what makes you so special?"
A fascinating book for me at the moment is Lynne McTaggart's The Intention Experiment. The book shows clearly, through the thousands of scientific experiments cited, how intention can have a profound effect on our world.
Through quantum entanglement we are always interacting with other parts of our universe than the one we are aware of at the present time. Not only have studies shown that people have a direct effect on their environment with the thoughts they focus on, they can also alter their brains which become measurably thicker in areas which receive intense focus.
If everything we think has an impact, then everything we do has a definite effect. We are working with the whole, if only in small ways, at every moment of our existence.
In native culture, you make a prayer before you do anything. In today's parlance, you set an intention. An intention is a specific request, which is then released to a higher energy which orders it to the highest possible outcome.
The Apaches and native peoples remember it; others will have to re-discover it. Everything we do is sacred.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Live richly
Live richly
in the center of life
tumult of growing things
chaos of fractals
unfolding to light
iris
of God's living stream.
Live richly your fears
salting the sauce
give yourself freely
to mistakes
let love flow
from the center of your smile
and your feet
absorb the rain.
in the center of life
tumult of growing things
chaos of fractals
unfolding to light
iris
of God's living stream.
Live richly your fears
salting the sauce
give yourself freely
to mistakes
let love flow
from the center of your smile
and your feet
absorb the rain.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Another chicken story
I just took 10 chickens up to a USDO processor in Bradford, Ohio and
got the excellent price of processing at 1.75 per chicken, processed,
weighed and inspected and refrigerated to 40 degrees. I now have
chickens that I can sell legally from my freezer at home. I plan to
raise and sell 150 chickens this summer - a mix of finishers at 8
weeks and 3-4 month meat-layer crosses. I will process at the Bradford
facility in batches of 50 chickens, and take pre-orders from friends
and my neighbors. I expect to have all my chickens sold before I load
them up in the trailer and take them to the processor.
I loved the processor - on an Amish, family-run facility which is open
to the public. The people there obviously have a love of their
community, and the matriarch happily answered my questions for 20
minutes as a newbie chicken farmer.
We took on 20 chickens this summer as an experiment on our 5 acres in
Powell, and I get to eat the first one tomorrow. We've been enjoying
eggs since October, and the whole experience of being on the meat end
of the food chain. It's been a pleasure from start to finish, since we
bought the chicks at Ridgeway hatcheries in April. Ridgeway supplied
me with a list of slaughtering operations in Ohio. I chose the one in
Bradford because it is USDO, and they also have a telephone. Some of
the other facilities I had to write to, and wait for a date back!
got the excellent price of processing at 1.75 per chicken, processed,
weighed and inspected and refrigerated to 40 degrees. I now have
chickens that I can sell legally from my freezer at home. I plan to
raise and sell 150 chickens this summer - a mix of finishers at 8
weeks and 3-4 month meat-layer crosses. I will process at the Bradford
facility in batches of 50 chickens, and take pre-orders from friends
and my neighbors. I expect to have all my chickens sold before I load
them up in the trailer and take them to the processor.
I loved the processor - on an Amish, family-run facility which is open
to the public. The people there obviously have a love of their
community, and the matriarch happily answered my questions for 20
minutes as a newbie chicken farmer.
We took on 20 chickens this summer as an experiment on our 5 acres in
Powell, and I get to eat the first one tomorrow. We've been enjoying
eggs since October, and the whole experience of being on the meat end
of the food chain. It's been a pleasure from start to finish, since we
bought the chicks at Ridgeway hatcheries in April. Ridgeway supplied
me with a list of slaughtering operations in Ohio. I chose the one in
Bradford because it is USDO, and they also have a telephone. Some of
the other facilities I had to write to, and wait for a date back!
Thursday, October 30, 2008
How a surrogate 'Dad' taught me to run, and lifted us all in the inner city.
I went to Middle School and part of High School in Seattle's south side, bussed into the inner city. In eighth grade I ran cross country, pounding the pavements and parks of south Seattle as our legs ate up the miles in fall conditioning. In ninth grade I ran track, and received the great gift of a coach I will never forget.
Rocky Adams stood about six-foot-two, with a big belly and grizzled silver and black hair. In his sixties, he’d been through segregation in Alabama where he’d been made to use ‘colored only’ washrooms. He’d run track in the Olympics on the same team as Jesse Owens, and talked about Jesse like he was just around the corner, or a phone call away.
Rocky Adams stood about six-foot-two, with a big belly and grizzled silver and black hair. In his sixties, he’d been through segregation in Alabama where he’d been made to use ‘colored only’ washrooms. He’d run track in the Olympics on the same team as Jesse Owens, and talked about Jesse like he was just around the corner, or a phone call away.
I don’t think there was a single girl on our team who had a father living at home, including me. Somehow, they’d divorced or died or drifted away. So Rocky became OUR father, the father of every girl on that team.
I remember how we’d drift out onto that red cinder track after school, and gather in a little cluster around Rocky. Every girl gave him a hug. It wasn’t like Rocky asked for hugs. We just went up to him and put our arms around his big belly and we hugged him for all the father we could get.
Some girls would hang on him, and he’d have to peel them off and before sending us all around the track. “I have a headache Rocky,” we’d complain, buying time, or “I’ve got pains,” and he’d get stern: "Your head hurts, your belly hurts, next thing your hair is goin’ to hurt! When I was guardin' them women in Korea, suddenly they’d go off in them bushes, and come back with a baby half an hour later! And you tell me you can’t get round that track?!”
Rocky worked at a sports store, and he never let a girl or boy go without the spiked shoes we needed to run our races. He made it clear, if you didn’t have the money for a bag, or Bengay, or a new set of spikes, he’d get them for you.
Years later I wondered how much of his own money he’d spent on those shoes. At the time I thought they were magical, free, but now I understand he must have sacrificed for us, like a good father would. He lectured us tactfully on athletic wear, that a good bra would improve our performance – go buy one. He drew the line at supplying those.
With his stories of Jesse Owens, with his chiding, he encouraged the girls to stay in school and the boys to give their best. Don’t get pregnant, he told the girls, but he didn’t shame or shun when one girl did and had to leave the team.
As a fatherless girl, I counted on my hugs from Rocky. He gave me unconditional love and support for all the years I ran track with him, at school and during club in the summers when I’d take the bus across town to practice, even though I never came in first, not once. I am grateful to have lived in a window of time when he could hug us like a father, and we could respond like daughters.
When I look at Barak Obama, I hear in my mind some of Rocky’s stories about growing up in the south, and I definitely hear how proud he would be, just like he was so proud of Jesse Owens. Rocky’s stories of Jesse lifted up those inner city girls and boys, gave them a shot at a new horizon.
What if people who are weakened by despair and limited options suddenly find strength through Obama’s leadership? Won’t it be a wonderful thing for our nation if everyone became stronger? That everyone feels they have a chance? What if the despair of the inner cities is suddenly lifted by hope, and the talent and beauty and life there has reinforcement for creating positive patterns?
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
IWWG Conference
Got up at 3.30 am with my friend Reg to get a plane for 5, to be on a subway at 8 to be at the conference by 10am, to find there's no tea or coffee at IWWG. We listened, famished, to the opening speakers, then ducked out to Maloney's bar and I had an "Irish" breakfast. Sorry Maloney's, and the homesick Irish chap who served us, but it was really the Full English - 2 eggs, 2 bangers, 2 rashers, tomato, black & white puddings, tea, toast, orange juice. Everything except the baked beans, porridge and fried bread. An obnoxious man at the bar kept on talking loudly about OJ Simpson decapitating his wife "DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS? HE DID IT WITH A KNIFE" until the barman asked him to "stop talking about what you're talking about."
Reg and I rehearsed our pitches for the 6th time each, and headed back to the hall to listen to the agents' panel.
The night before, my daughter did our nails, made sure we had adequate makeup, went through our wardrobe picks, sorted, discarded and added, checked our jewelry and made sure we'd look our best. With stunning prescience, she made us write down on cards what qualities we were looking for in an agent, and then told Reg: don't expect the person who's right for you will necessarily be a woman.
IWWG put on a lovely panel of agents. Because the group has a focus on spirituality, they'd picked several agents who seemed to be a good fit for me. We stood in two-hour lines at tables to meet our top picks, but it was worth it. I felt very at ease with the woman who asked me to submit my work. In my exhausted, befuddled state I still managed to give the book's synopsis and my platform, thanks to the morning's practice with Reg - who stood in line to see the only man there.
We bought a copy of "Next to Mexico" from the author Jen Nails, a book I'd actually picked up in Barnes and Noble the week before, thinking it would be a good choice for my daughter.
We also bought a book from Natalie Reid, who does 'soul readings' and helps people work with their soul's voice through her book The Spiritual Alchemist: Working with the Voice of the Soul. Natalie holds workshops at the IWWG annual conference at Strathmore. I'd love to go in June, but that's a busy time for my chicken, bee and garden operation, and I plan on pasturing 100 chickens this year - a substantial increase from 20.
What I loved about the panel of writers who spoke to us in the morning, was their diverse means of publishing. This used to make me feel very scared: "if there are so many more books being published, who will ever buy mine?" I wondered. But I see it differently now.
The publishing industry has opened up in such a huge way that everyone has access to some level of publication. Instead of a dozen carefully tended, clipped and sheltered rosebushes, there are fields of wildflowers blooming across the earth - in blogs, e-books, self-publishing or traditional publishing houses.
It gives authors access to publication according to their skill level and their desire to be published. So a person who just wants to get an idea out there could blog; develop the idea into an e-book and sell it; get it bound with artword and promote it as a self-published work; or try to really take it to a highly-developed, highly-polished level and submit it to an agent or a publishing house.
I do see writing and publishing as soul development now. This takes out the competitive element with other authors and writers. Instead of "my book - what have you written?" it's "how are you developing your soul?" or "what does your soul want to express?" Also, "what feeds my soul?" and for blocked writers, "how do I get in touch with my soul?" And ultimately, it's always:
"what makes my soul sing?"
Reg and I rehearsed our pitches for the 6th time each, and headed back to the hall to listen to the agents' panel.
The night before, my daughter did our nails, made sure we had adequate makeup, went through our wardrobe picks, sorted, discarded and added, checked our jewelry and made sure we'd look our best. With stunning prescience, she made us write down on cards what qualities we were looking for in an agent, and then told Reg: don't expect the person who's right for you will necessarily be a woman.
IWWG put on a lovely panel of agents. Because the group has a focus on spirituality, they'd picked several agents who seemed to be a good fit for me. We stood in two-hour lines at tables to meet our top picks, but it was worth it. I felt very at ease with the woman who asked me to submit my work. In my exhausted, befuddled state I still managed to give the book's synopsis and my platform, thanks to the morning's practice with Reg - who stood in line to see the only man there.
We bought a copy of "Next to Mexico" from the author Jen Nails, a book I'd actually picked up in Barnes and Noble the week before, thinking it would be a good choice for my daughter.
We also bought a book from Natalie Reid, who does 'soul readings' and helps people work with their soul's voice through her book The Spiritual Alchemist: Working with the Voice of the Soul. Natalie holds workshops at the IWWG annual conference at Strathmore. I'd love to go in June, but that's a busy time for my chicken, bee and garden operation, and I plan on pasturing 100 chickens this year - a substantial increase from 20.
What I loved about the panel of writers who spoke to us in the morning, was their diverse means of publishing. This used to make me feel very scared: "if there are so many more books being published, who will ever buy mine?" I wondered. But I see it differently now.
The publishing industry has opened up in such a huge way that everyone has access to some level of publication. Instead of a dozen carefully tended, clipped and sheltered rosebushes, there are fields of wildflowers blooming across the earth - in blogs, e-books, self-publishing or traditional publishing houses.
It gives authors access to publication according to their skill level and their desire to be published. So a person who just wants to get an idea out there could blog; develop the idea into an e-book and sell it; get it bound with artword and promote it as a self-published work; or try to really take it to a highly-developed, highly-polished level and submit it to an agent or a publishing house.
I do see writing and publishing as soul development now. This takes out the competitive element with other authors and writers. Instead of "my book - what have you written?" it's "how are you developing your soul?" or "what does your soul want to express?" Also, "what feeds my soul?" and for blocked writers, "how do I get in touch with my soul?" And ultimately, it's always:
"what makes my soul sing?"
Thursday, October 16, 2008
New York - new pitch
After working for a year on platform by creating the radio show Conscious Voices for WCRS, I'm back to novels and brushing up a final final version of Novel 3 to sell in New York. The International Women Writer's Guild (IWWG) holds a pitch session this weekend. Sunday there is a meet-the-authors open house, a book fair, and then a meet-the-agents open house. The blurb promises that past events have "yielded wonderful matches between authors and agents."
A friend and I are travelling up together on a 4am flight, (OMG - that's before my rooster is even up) and we plan to practice-pitch to our local IWWG chapter the day before.
Why is it taking so long to get novel 3 out the door? Last year at the Columbus Writer's Conference I had a session with editor Sally Kim, and she encouraged me to get in touch with several agents. But after listening to editors and agents talk about their needs, I felt that I had to back up and construct more of a platform. I dove into creating a radio show for WCRS fm. Twenty-two episodes later felt I'd earned a break, and that it was overdue time to get that novel once again into position for an agent.
A girl can only do so much!
When it's my turn to sit in front of an agent, I'll tell her that Sally did want to see my book, when I'd found someone who could talk to her. (Some editors in the big publishing houses can't talk to writers unless the writer has an agent.)
The trainer at the gym had the nicest thing to say to me when I told her I'd be going to New York. "I wish you luck - you deserve it. You work so hard at it."
Maybe that's why I feel so calm going into this. I've done the hoofwork. The novel's been combed through 13 times. I've had a professional editor comment on the manuscript, and taken her advice to heart in the subsequent redrafts. I've taken time to build the platform and labored over designs for the final website. Is it worth it? Has it been worth it? Yes.
When the conference is over, when my plane touches ground back in Columbus, if I don't find a match at IWWG I'll start contacting agents one by one until I find that right someone. In the meantime, I'll begin novel 4. I'll record a show. I'll be starting on the promotion for the NFSH Healing in America training courses in Ohio in March 2009. And it will all come together eventually, and it will all be good.
A friend and I are travelling up together on a 4am flight, (OMG - that's before my rooster is even up) and we plan to practice-pitch to our local IWWG chapter the day before.
Why is it taking so long to get novel 3 out the door? Last year at the Columbus Writer's Conference I had a session with editor Sally Kim, and she encouraged me to get in touch with several agents. But after listening to editors and agents talk about their needs, I felt that I had to back up and construct more of a platform. I dove into creating a radio show for WCRS fm. Twenty-two episodes later felt I'd earned a break, and that it was overdue time to get that novel once again into position for an agent.
A girl can only do so much!
When it's my turn to sit in front of an agent, I'll tell her that Sally did want to see my book, when I'd found someone who could talk to her. (Some editors in the big publishing houses can't talk to writers unless the writer has an agent.)
The trainer at the gym had the nicest thing to say to me when I told her I'd be going to New York. "I wish you luck - you deserve it. You work so hard at it."
Maybe that's why I feel so calm going into this. I've done the hoofwork. The novel's been combed through 13 times. I've had a professional editor comment on the manuscript, and taken her advice to heart in the subsequent redrafts. I've taken time to build the platform and labored over designs for the final website. Is it worth it? Has it been worth it? Yes.
When the conference is over, when my plane touches ground back in Columbus, if I don't find a match at IWWG I'll start contacting agents one by one until I find that right someone. In the meantime, I'll begin novel 4. I'll record a show. I'll be starting on the promotion for the NFSH Healing in America training courses in Ohio in March 2009. And it will all come together eventually, and it will all be good.
Friday, September 14, 2007
Decision Maker
After a long, hot and glorious summer with the kids and my beautiful neice, swimming and bouncing and camping and eating from the garden - and yes, writing too - I'm at work. Just turned in a 20-minute segment for Bexley radio about the Columbus Writer's Conference. And last night, I was approached at a radio party to host my own weekly hour-long show on my favorite topics: conscious living, holistic health, sustainability, and travel.
What an amazing opportunity! And I've got enough ideas to fill 20 hours of programming!
How different from Wednesday when I'd hit writer's block. I felt so drained, a kind of panicky drained, where I'm afraid I'll never be able to write again. A writer friend called, and she talked about her artist dates, and how they seemed like a complete waste of time, but the day after taking time for her inner artist she worked more easily, smoothly.
She's right, I thought. Without hesitation, I grabbed my favorite black and gold fountain pen, my journal, and headed out to the pool where my son lounged in the hammock with stomach flu. I put on a California Guitar Trio cd, and sucked up the freedom of letting myself just BE.
After about an hour, I began to see vivid images in my mind, and this poem fell out. This is its fifth draft:
Decision Maker
We are arrows shot
black against turquoise sky
a silver-tipped swish.
We the bow
the burning bicep
white fingers, blood starved,
hot scrape of string to arm
and the vibrating core
of the bow-master.
In my quiver, a thousand decisions,
aim of my eye,
each shot, destiny wrought.
The arc interrupted by an act of will, or not
interrupted at all.
----------------------
The poem reminded me of something I'd read in Khalil Gibran's The Prophet. So I scurried upstairs and found this on page 18:
“You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.”
It's no shame to be trumped by a master, and I have to give the blue ribbon for archery metaphors to Gibran. But it was interesting to see how my language differed from his. We also talk about different subjects - Gibran about the separateness between one generation and the next, between child and parent and how important stability is for how far a child can fly. My poem is about how our decisions govern our life's experiences, and how we can choose to change old patterns through the act of will, or create a positive life by using the principle of trajectory.
In a business and marketing class I'm taking from Freelance Success's Erik Sherman, I've posted this piece of advice on my wall: "through ordered and diligent work, you can take advantage of business that happens by accident." I think that, too, also resonates with the bowmaster and the vibrating core.
I didn't realize I missed blogging this much!
What an amazing opportunity! And I've got enough ideas to fill 20 hours of programming!
How different from Wednesday when I'd hit writer's block. I felt so drained, a kind of panicky drained, where I'm afraid I'll never be able to write again. A writer friend called, and she talked about her artist dates, and how they seemed like a complete waste of time, but the day after taking time for her inner artist she worked more easily, smoothly.
She's right, I thought. Without hesitation, I grabbed my favorite black and gold fountain pen, my journal, and headed out to the pool where my son lounged in the hammock with stomach flu. I put on a California Guitar Trio cd, and sucked up the freedom of letting myself just BE.
After about an hour, I began to see vivid images in my mind, and this poem fell out. This is its fifth draft:
Decision Maker
We are arrows shot
black against turquoise sky
a silver-tipped swish.
We the bow
the burning bicep
white fingers, blood starved,
hot scrape of string to arm
and the vibrating core
of the bow-master.
In my quiver, a thousand decisions,
aim of my eye,
each shot, destiny wrought.
The arc interrupted by an act of will, or not
interrupted at all.
----------------------
The poem reminded me of something I'd read in Khalil Gibran's The Prophet. So I scurried upstairs and found this on page 18:
“You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.”
It's no shame to be trumped by a master, and I have to give the blue ribbon for archery metaphors to Gibran. But it was interesting to see how my language differed from his. We also talk about different subjects - Gibran about the separateness between one generation and the next, between child and parent and how important stability is for how far a child can fly. My poem is about how our decisions govern our life's experiences, and how we can choose to change old patterns through the act of will, or create a positive life by using the principle of trajectory.
In a business and marketing class I'm taking from Freelance Success's Erik Sherman, I've posted this piece of advice on my wall: "through ordered and diligent work, you can take advantage of business that happens by accident." I think that, too, also resonates with the bowmaster and the vibrating core.
I didn't realize I missed blogging this much!
Friday, June 08, 2007
Last day of school blues
Last day of school, and I feel a bit sad because I'm picking up steam in writing work and now the schedule shifts - to what? How will I create time to write? How will I find solace?
But I know, if I look to past summers, I will be able to integrate my life: kids and summer fun with writing. Somehow!
The kids know of my need. One day when my son was trying to think of a punishment for some small trespass I'd committed he said: "I know, you're grounded from writing for three days!"
"OOOOHHHH!" I wailed. "You really know where to hurt me!" And he grinned and we giggled.
I can see it now: they're putting me in a nursing home but checking out the internet connection and finding a lap table so I can still use my computer, diary, pens....
I'm working on two stories at the moment: one non-fiction about Nazi-era provenance art for Bexley Public Radio, the other fiction, a 2,000 word short story I want to enter into the Ohio Writer's competition.
The online competition service CRWROPPS (which you can subscribe to as a feed, see previous posts for details) spits out five to eight competitions per day for me to peruse. And I'm getting picky.
Competitions can be a scam. Think of a good name for your comp, set up a PO Box, advertise and watch the checks come in. That's why the website which keeps an eye on comps, Preditors and Editors, doesn't take as valid any comp which charges a reading fee. (Ditto for agents). However, comps are one way magazines and writers' groups get revenue in to keep them afloat.
My rules have become: if it lists a PO Box as its address, don't enter. Wait for comps from magazines and writer's groups you recognize, then check out their websites. One website CRWROPPS listed had a rolling competition - ie, they gave winners out every few months. But when I clicked through to the site, the poetry was diabolical, and basically pay to play.
But I know, if I look to past summers, I will be able to integrate my life: kids and summer fun with writing. Somehow!
The kids know of my need. One day when my son was trying to think of a punishment for some small trespass I'd committed he said: "I know, you're grounded from writing for three days!"
"OOOOHHHH!" I wailed. "You really know where to hurt me!" And he grinned and we giggled.
I can see it now: they're putting me in a nursing home but checking out the internet connection and finding a lap table so I can still use my computer, diary, pens....
I'm working on two stories at the moment: one non-fiction about Nazi-era provenance art for Bexley Public Radio, the other fiction, a 2,000 word short story I want to enter into the Ohio Writer's competition.
The online competition service CRWROPPS (which you can subscribe to as a feed, see previous posts for details) spits out five to eight competitions per day for me to peruse. And I'm getting picky.
Competitions can be a scam. Think of a good name for your comp, set up a PO Box, advertise and watch the checks come in. That's why the website which keeps an eye on comps, Preditors and Editors, doesn't take as valid any comp which charges a reading fee. (Ditto for agents). However, comps are one way magazines and writers' groups get revenue in to keep them afloat.
My rules have become: if it lists a PO Box as its address, don't enter. Wait for comps from magazines and writer's groups you recognize, then check out their websites. One website CRWROPPS listed had a rolling competition - ie, they gave winners out every few months. But when I clicked through to the site, the poetry was diabolical, and basically pay to play.
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Wednesday, June 06, 2007
Sunday, June 03, 2007
Be the explorer on the edge of your world
It's being so scared, and yet deciding to do that thing you're most afraid of, and getting beyond it and finding out you're not only alright, but better for the experience, and then seeing the next thing you're scared of, and then saying to yourself 'I'm a brave person. I did the last thing that scared me to death. I'm a person of courage and I'm going to do this next thing that scares me to death,' and you do, and it's ok...that's what makes life such an adventure.
You can be Marianne the Librarian and lead a wonderful, adventurous life because you're facing your fears every day...and it will look to other people that you're just an ordinary bod going about ordinary bod things every day, but you won't be.
You'll be an explorer on the edge of your world; you are the bravest person to face the fears that make you the most frightened, and the most courageous to do those things anyway.
For everyone who lives like this, their reward is the most wonderful freedom; their life is the most exciting; their dreams are the most fulfilled.
You can be Marianne the Librarian and lead a wonderful, adventurous life because you're facing your fears every day...and it will look to other people that you're just an ordinary bod going about ordinary bod things every day, but you won't be.
You'll be an explorer on the edge of your world; you are the bravest person to face the fears that make you the most frightened, and the most courageous to do those things anyway.
For everyone who lives like this, their reward is the most wonderful freedom; their life is the most exciting; their dreams are the most fulfilled.
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
The Gift Day
Yesterday I received a wonderful gift from my mother: a clipping of an article from the Christian Science Monitor which she'd written in 1953. In the article she described how she'd bought and trained a budgie to take to her grandparents on a visit from her apartment in New York to their Seattle cottage. During the long train journey across the US, passengers took a shine to the parakeet as she tried to teach it to speak. 'Cheerie' refused - until he arrived at Grandma's house, settled in, and began to sing "I love you Grandma" and "I'm Hughie's bird".
I'd been down in the dumps that day. June's upon us, and that's when I switch out of writer to childcare expert and chief play wizard. I hadn't got as much published as I'd hoped in the previous nine months, and couldn't understand what I'd achieved. Mom's article cheered me up, particularly her large vocabulary and her clear style. I remembered how she took such great care to teach me interesting and difficult words, and to pronounce them correctly. I know that my large vocabulary, easily handled, has to be due to this childhood training, as well as our daily study of the King James Bible and Science and Health - a book with tortuous and awesomely difficult words for a child.
After reading Mom's letter, I opened my email to doggedly face the work I felt I'd failed at, and wonderfully there - an acceptance! The Christian Science Monitor had taken a piece I wrote about our trip to Tuscany. As I looked again at Mom's article, I noticed publication day was May - the same month as my acceptance.
I'd been down in the dumps that day. June's upon us, and that's when I switch out of writer to childcare expert and chief play wizard. I hadn't got as much published as I'd hoped in the previous nine months, and couldn't understand what I'd achieved. Mom's article cheered me up, particularly her large vocabulary and her clear style. I remembered how she took such great care to teach me interesting and difficult words, and to pronounce them correctly. I know that my large vocabulary, easily handled, has to be due to this childhood training, as well as our daily study of the King James Bible and Science and Health - a book with tortuous and awesomely difficult words for a child.
After reading Mom's letter, I opened my email to doggedly face the work I felt I'd failed at, and wonderfully there - an acceptance! The Christian Science Monitor had taken a piece I wrote about our trip to Tuscany. As I looked again at Mom's article, I noticed publication day was May - the same month as my acceptance.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Agent & Editors List
If you're looking to publish a novel, non-fiction or young adult book, and you've done the groundwork which makes you ready to approach an editor or agent, then subscribe to Publisher's Lunch. You get an email digest for free, and if you subscribe (tax deductible remember!) on a monthly basis you have access to a database of editors and agents which you can search by category or with keywords.
At the moment Pub Lunch is advertising the BEA in New York, and if you click into the writer's conference and scroll down to the pitch slam, you'll find a list of editors and agents listening to pitches. These people are actively trawling for new writers to boost their lists.
I've archived my list in my email in-box under editors/agents. I'm also archiving everything cwropps (the contest bulletin board) sends. Then I will search my email by keyword and up will pop lists of editors and agents looking at manuscripts this year. Then I can search on their names and see if they match what I write. Pub lunch makes this an easier process because of the category function.
Ok, you twisted my arm. Here's the Pub Lunch list of editors and agents listening to slams at the BEA. Have fun!
Linn Prentis
Lynne Rabinoff
Jenny Rappaoport
Jessica Regel
Janet Rosen
Rita Rosenkranz
Emma Sweeney
Olga Vezeris
Cherry Weiner
Ted Weinstein
Larry Weissman
Jennifer Weltz
John Willig
Michelle Wolfson
Caroline Woods
Helen Zimmerman Marilyn Allen
Janet Benrey
Daniel Bial
Regina Brooks
Sheree Bykofsky
Debbie Carter
Jennifer Cayea
Adam Chromy
June Clark
Donya Dickerson
Jen Dunham
Stephany Evans
Grace Freedson
Mollie Glick
Emily Sylvan Kim
Jud Laghi Michael Larsen
Meg Leder
Julia Lord
Jonathan Lyons
Michael Mancilla
Sharlene Martin
Paul McCarthy
Jeffrey McGraw
Laurie McLean
Jackie Meyer
Peter Miller
Michael Murphy
Colleen O'Shea
Lori Perkins
Alicka Pistek
Elizabeth Pomada
At the moment Pub Lunch is advertising the BEA in New York, and if you click into the writer's conference and scroll down to the pitch slam, you'll find a list of editors and agents listening to pitches. These people are actively trawling for new writers to boost their lists.
I've archived my list in my email in-box under editors/agents. I'm also archiving everything cwropps (the contest bulletin board) sends. Then I will search my email by keyword and up will pop lists of editors and agents looking at manuscripts this year. Then I can search on their names and see if they match what I write. Pub lunch makes this an easier process because of the category function.
Ok, you twisted my arm. Here's the Pub Lunch list of editors and agents listening to slams at the BEA. Have fun!
Linn Prentis
Lynne Rabinoff
Jenny Rappaoport
Jessica Regel
Janet Rosen
Rita Rosenkranz
Emma Sweeney
Olga Vezeris
Cherry Weiner
Ted Weinstein
Larry Weissman
Jennifer Weltz
John Willig
Michelle Wolfson
Caroline Woods
Helen Zimmerman Marilyn Allen
Janet Benrey
Daniel Bial
Regina Brooks
Sheree Bykofsky
Debbie Carter
Jennifer Cayea
Adam Chromy
June Clark
Donya Dickerson
Jen Dunham
Stephany Evans
Grace Freedson
Mollie Glick
Emily Sylvan Kim
Jud Laghi Michael Larsen
Meg Leder
Julia Lord
Jonathan Lyons
Michael Mancilla
Sharlene Martin
Paul McCarthy
Jeffrey McGraw
Laurie McLean
Jackie Meyer
Peter Miller
Michael Murphy
Colleen O'Shea
Lori Perkins
Alicka Pistek
Elizabeth Pomada
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
The Art of Happiness at Work for writers
The good news: returned from the American Society of Journalists and Authors (ASJA) conference brimming with ideas and a pitch to-do list that made me sing. The bad news: what's happened to my time? How can I be working so hard and standing so still? Time, like money: where's it all gone?
Then when I hit the page after accomplishing so little, I feel the mountain of work left to be done is just that, a mountain. My friend calls my method of writing "drip drip" - like Chinese water torture.
I'm reading the Dalai Lama's "Art of Happiness at Work" and loved the insights. Flow, defined as the state of losing yourself and track of time through focus on work, is apparently psychologically unachievable on a regular basis. I thought in order to be a proper writer, I had to achieve flow every day. I get frustrated when I don't. But this says that if you achieve flow a mere six to seven times a year, you're going very well.
But it also pointed out that "flow" people can be pretty grumpy curmudgeons. Can you be a people-pleaser and an achiever at the same time? I really struggle with trying to carve the time and space to write while still managing a family, keeping healthy friendships and being energized enough for a successful healing practice. It's a huge balancing act and very often I fall off the beam, frustrated.
What is this frustration? It's fear. Fear that I'll never live up to my pre-kids potential as a writer; that the hiatus I took from a writing career was a full stop, not a comma. Yet I look at the way my work flows now, at the power, the purity, the effortlessness of the language and I know that's due to the time out I took to develop my character, to walk with integrity in every place in my life.
Another insight came from a dialogue between the Dalai Lama and the author Howard C Cutler, MD, on how people see their work: as a job and timeclock, a career with attendant ambition and jealousy, or as a calling.
His description of careerists as ambitious, jealous, and competitive brought to mind my years as a reporter, when I chaired the Women Writers' Network, and wrote my first two novels. I collapsed due to exhaustion and inspirational burnout. After re-orienting myself through growth as a healer and subsequently opening a practice, writing also needed to shift into a calling. But first my healing practice went through a smaller version of the same process after I realized I did not want to be a career healer, making a living from classes, workshops, healings and how-to books.
Writing as a calling sees the body of work. It sees the growth of the writer, through skill, deepened experience, and for me through a broad range of contacts plus cuttings and books that show maturity. It's about curiousity, and other people's stories. It's a celebration of where we are on the planet, in this incredible time to be alive.
During the transition out of career writer, I wished to be able to read other people's books without jealousy, and love them for the light of new ideas they bring into the world. I can. I wished to be hungry to write again for publication. I am.
And now I wish to be able to integrate my calling for writing and publication into a very rich and diverse life that I lead as a person.
I will.
Then when I hit the page after accomplishing so little, I feel the mountain of work left to be done is just that, a mountain. My friend calls my method of writing "drip drip" - like Chinese water torture.
I'm reading the Dalai Lama's "Art of Happiness at Work" and loved the insights. Flow, defined as the state of losing yourself and track of time through focus on work, is apparently psychologically unachievable on a regular basis. I thought in order to be a proper writer, I had to achieve flow every day. I get frustrated when I don't. But this says that if you achieve flow a mere six to seven times a year, you're going very well.
But it also pointed out that "flow" people can be pretty grumpy curmudgeons. Can you be a people-pleaser and an achiever at the same time? I really struggle with trying to carve the time and space to write while still managing a family, keeping healthy friendships and being energized enough for a successful healing practice. It's a huge balancing act and very often I fall off the beam, frustrated.
What is this frustration? It's fear. Fear that I'll never live up to my pre-kids potential as a writer; that the hiatus I took from a writing career was a full stop, not a comma. Yet I look at the way my work flows now, at the power, the purity, the effortlessness of the language and I know that's due to the time out I took to develop my character, to walk with integrity in every place in my life.
Another insight came from a dialogue between the Dalai Lama and the author Howard C Cutler, MD, on how people see their work: as a job and timeclock, a career with attendant ambition and jealousy, or as a calling.
His description of careerists as ambitious, jealous, and competitive brought to mind my years as a reporter, when I chaired the Women Writers' Network, and wrote my first two novels. I collapsed due to exhaustion and inspirational burnout. After re-orienting myself through growth as a healer and subsequently opening a practice, writing also needed to shift into a calling. But first my healing practice went through a smaller version of the same process after I realized I did not want to be a career healer, making a living from classes, workshops, healings and how-to books.
Writing as a calling sees the body of work. It sees the growth of the writer, through skill, deepened experience, and for me through a broad range of contacts plus cuttings and books that show maturity. It's about curiousity, and other people's stories. It's a celebration of where we are on the planet, in this incredible time to be alive.
During the transition out of career writer, I wished to be able to read other people's books without jealousy, and love them for the light of new ideas they bring into the world. I can. I wished to be hungry to write again for publication. I am.
And now I wish to be able to integrate my calling for writing and publication into a very rich and diverse life that I lead as a person.
I will.
Technorati Tags:art of happiness at work for writers, career, books, contacts, cuttings, writing, publication, dalai lama, howard c cutler md, asja, pitch list, pitch, flow, writing flow
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Thursday, March 08, 2007
Two More Contacting Editors Tips
I heard two editor contacting tips this week. These are the short versions. And it's much better if you do the longer version (two blogs ago) because then you're forced to examine the magazine, which gives your pitch a higher chance of acceptance. But once you know these tips, you may be tempted, (as in the chocolate cake is in the fridge and I just need a teeny slice, no, better not dirty a dish - I'll tackle this with my fork) to take the shortcut.
For magazine contact information: www.hoovers.com
For insider information on magazines: www.bacons.com
Don't say I didn't warn you.
For magazine contact information: www.hoovers.com
For insider information on magazines: www.bacons.com
Don't say I didn't warn you.
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Friday, March 02, 2007
Ad infinitum
My son pointed out a few weeks ago, that mathematically .9999999 repeating to infinity is the same number as one.
The reason? Because in math, a pattern takes precedence over numbers.
I like to think of this as I work out in the gym. I don't lift as much weight as the other ladies. I don't run as fast. I can't do as many reps of v-ups. But I show up. Every week I lift weights twice, get my butt kicked in Boot Camp on Fridays, and spin for an hour on a leftover day. I have a repeating pattern. As I slog around the gym, last in line during the Indian running (do Indians really do that? I don't think so...) ready to drop to a walk, I remind myself that I don't have to be in the gym at all. I could be home watching tivo.
This is like my resurrected writing career. I'm creating patterns: send out queries to editors, get more ideas, send those out, follow up queries, get rejected, try again. Here I'm .999999 once again as I build a reputation for myself, and get back on top of my game. But I remember as I send out another query letter, that mathematically I'm the same as 1. Because it's the pattern that takes precedent over where I physically seem to be today.
There's another theory that the life you're living today, is the life you created for yourself three months ago. That's how long it takes for the ideas you envison to precipitate into the physical world. In otherwords, it will take three months for me to see the life I'm actually creating today, and I'm living the results of what I created three months ago with my actions and intentions.
You may feel like .9999999. But if you're laying down repeating patterns for yourself and struggling to create a different life than the one you didn't like, you're actually mathematically 1.
I'm going to get kicked out of Boot Camp if I keep on trying to tell them these things during our clapping pushups.
The reason? Because in math, a pattern takes precedence over numbers.
I like to think of this as I work out in the gym. I don't lift as much weight as the other ladies. I don't run as fast. I can't do as many reps of v-ups. But I show up. Every week I lift weights twice, get my butt kicked in Boot Camp on Fridays, and spin for an hour on a leftover day. I have a repeating pattern. As I slog around the gym, last in line during the Indian running (do Indians really do that? I don't think so...) ready to drop to a walk, I remind myself that I don't have to be in the gym at all. I could be home watching tivo.
This is like my resurrected writing career. I'm creating patterns: send out queries to editors, get more ideas, send those out, follow up queries, get rejected, try again. Here I'm .999999 once again as I build a reputation for myself, and get back on top of my game. But I remember as I send out another query letter, that mathematically I'm the same as 1. Because it's the pattern that takes precedent over where I physically seem to be today.
There's another theory that the life you're living today, is the life you created for yourself three months ago. That's how long it takes for the ideas you envison to precipitate into the physical world. In otherwords, it will take three months for me to see the life I'm actually creating today, and I'm living the results of what I created three months ago with my actions and intentions.
You may feel like .9999999. But if you're laying down repeating patterns for yourself and struggling to create a different life than the one you didn't like, you're actually mathematically 1.
I'm going to get kicked out of Boot Camp if I keep on trying to tell them these things during our clapping pushups.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Tricks for contacting editors
Getting through to editors at magazines can be like trying to wiggle a limpet off a rock. Do they want submissions? Apparently not. Read the mastheads and it's a rare editor who lists their email address or telephone number.
However, if you read the masthead you will also find out there are precious few people running that magazine. It's stripped to the bones. Which is why they rely so heavily on freelance input. But if you're a new freelance, how do you get to the editor? Generic emails yield extremely few results.
I will reveal the secret. But if you use the secret you're going to look like a fool unless you have a slick delivery about your idea by phone, or you've got a professional looking, well-researched query letter. With that caveat (because I have been in busy newsrooms, and I do sympathize with overworked editors who get into a groove only to be interrupted by a nuisance call) use the following tips judiciously:
Go to the masthead on the magazine and write down the names of the editor, managing editor, assistant editor - whomever you want to reach. Then go down to advertising: they're the bunch that want to give out their email addresses. Look for the pattern -firstinitiallastname@mymag.com. You'll use that same pattern to email the editor with your white-hot, well-researched query (no attachments).
Then see where the editorial offices are located, and look for the number for the advertising or circulation department which is located in the same building. Now you've got the switchboard number and you can call the operator for the editor's number. If you get through to voicemail you can: call back, pitch to the mailbox, or go back to the operator and ask for the person's assistant. They don't really have assistants, I'm finding out. These magazines are horribly short-staffed.
This method takes a bit of sales practice. I like to have my pitch written out in front of me pared down to one sentence. Then they can ask for more information or send me away if it's not right for the magazine, or I can try to pitch a second article. I think if I had a list of articles it would either be impressive or annoying. I haven't tried that one yet. I'd love comments from other freelances about this method.
However, if you read the masthead you will also find out there are precious few people running that magazine. It's stripped to the bones. Which is why they rely so heavily on freelance input. But if you're a new freelance, how do you get to the editor? Generic emails yield extremely few results.
I will reveal the secret. But if you use the secret you're going to look like a fool unless you have a slick delivery about your idea by phone, or you've got a professional looking, well-researched query letter. With that caveat (because I have been in busy newsrooms, and I do sympathize with overworked editors who get into a groove only to be interrupted by a nuisance call) use the following tips judiciously:
Go to the masthead on the magazine and write down the names of the editor, managing editor, assistant editor - whomever you want to reach. Then go down to advertising: they're the bunch that want to give out their email addresses. Look for the pattern -firstinitiallastname@mymag.com. You'll use that same pattern to email the editor with your white-hot, well-researched query (no attachments).
Then see where the editorial offices are located, and look for the number for the advertising or circulation department which is located in the same building. Now you've got the switchboard number and you can call the operator for the editor's number. If you get through to voicemail you can: call back, pitch to the mailbox, or go back to the operator and ask for the person's assistant. They don't really have assistants, I'm finding out. These magazines are horribly short-staffed.
This method takes a bit of sales practice. I like to have my pitch written out in front of me pared down to one sentence. Then they can ask for more information or send me away if it's not right for the magazine, or I can try to pitch a second article. I think if I had a list of articles it would either be impressive or annoying. I haven't tried that one yet. I'd love comments from other freelances about this method.
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Thursday, February 22, 2007
Has it really been that long since I posted? Time's all crumpled up these days. I could have sworn it's only been a week.
But since then, I've had my first interview broadcast on Bexley Public Radio (Local Power FM - 102.1 in Columbus), and sat down with our engineer Eugene to edit tape for a couple news pieces. We've had lots and lots of snow, so that's been a distraction. At one point we were under a level 3 winter weather warning, which means you're not allowed to go out in your car.
Since last week I've signed up for the ASJA conference in New York, booked my flight, found somewhere to sleep; and signed up for a 'write your non-fiction book proposal class' through Freelance Success on-line. Jennifer Lawler teaches the class, and although I won't be able to take part of it due to other commitments, I thought I'd better have my proposal ready for the conference to punt to agents and editors. I've also joined the Freelance Success query challenge, and have to get some queries shifted off my desk today so that our group gets some points.
It's been a HUGELY busy and productive ten days. Almost overwhelmingly so. On Saturday night I dreamed this amazing dream, and spent Sunday with my head in the computer turning it into a short story. It's a firecracker - but now it needs redrafting before it's in shape to send out. The week before that, a whole novel plot landed in my head ready-born, and I'm very, very excited about that project too.
I've shut down my healing practice for the month of February. That's because I concentrate so hard during the day, I'm too tired to give clients full focus once my evening office hours roll 'round. (I will be back up and running in March). However, one client came in under the wire. She's a writer too, and asked a question about writing sad or dark stories. For people who believe that intention creates our world, or that thoughts can turn into things, writing dark stories feels like contributing to the evil in the world, rather than being part of our Earth's healing.
I found a diary entry I'd written while re-drafting The LightCatcher. I had real problems with that book trying to make it dark enough. I'd become so deeply involved with my healing practice, and identified so strongly with the characters, that I couldn't give them enough pain to make the story interesting.
"One of my many blocks to writing I discovered yesterday. In all metaphysical texts they talk about not only the importance of action, but also of thought: how it's important to send good thoughts, pure thoughts, into the world, for the health of other people and also for your own health.
"Writing a dark book is an action, and it makes negative thoughts concrete. As a healer I don't want to participate in that cycle. However, the canvas (flat or sculpture or a novel) is a place where we can safely manipulate imaginary icons without damaging real people as we explore human nature for ourselves and others.
"That's why art is such an important spiritual medium, and a safe and right place to direct emotion, our wonderings and our wonderment. It's another vehicle of birth which allows the expression of emotion and the safe passage through to communion with ourselves...with others. Snapshots of other minds, other situations. Birth, and out the other side."
But since then, I've had my first interview broadcast on Bexley Public Radio (Local Power FM - 102.1 in Columbus), and sat down with our engineer Eugene to edit tape for a couple news pieces. We've had lots and lots of snow, so that's been a distraction. At one point we were under a level 3 winter weather warning, which means you're not allowed to go out in your car.
Since last week I've signed up for the ASJA conference in New York, booked my flight, found somewhere to sleep; and signed up for a 'write your non-fiction book proposal class' through Freelance Success on-line. Jennifer Lawler teaches the class, and although I won't be able to take part of it due to other commitments, I thought I'd better have my proposal ready for the conference to punt to agents and editors. I've also joined the Freelance Success query challenge, and have to get some queries shifted off my desk today so that our group gets some points.
It's been a HUGELY busy and productive ten days. Almost overwhelmingly so. On Saturday night I dreamed this amazing dream, and spent Sunday with my head in the computer turning it into a short story. It's a firecracker - but now it needs redrafting before it's in shape to send out. The week before that, a whole novel plot landed in my head ready-born, and I'm very, very excited about that project too.
I've shut down my healing practice for the month of February. That's because I concentrate so hard during the day, I'm too tired to give clients full focus once my evening office hours roll 'round. (I will be back up and running in March). However, one client came in under the wire. She's a writer too, and asked a question about writing sad or dark stories. For people who believe that intention creates our world, or that thoughts can turn into things, writing dark stories feels like contributing to the evil in the world, rather than being part of our Earth's healing.
I found a diary entry I'd written while re-drafting The LightCatcher. I had real problems with that book trying to make it dark enough. I'd become so deeply involved with my healing practice, and identified so strongly with the characters, that I couldn't give them enough pain to make the story interesting.
"One of my many blocks to writing I discovered yesterday. In all metaphysical texts they talk about not only the importance of action, but also of thought: how it's important to send good thoughts, pure thoughts, into the world, for the health of other people and also for your own health.
"Writing a dark book is an action, and it makes negative thoughts concrete. As a healer I don't want to participate in that cycle. However, the canvas (flat or sculpture or a novel) is a place where we can safely manipulate imaginary icons without damaging real people as we explore human nature for ourselves and others.
"That's why art is such an important spiritual medium, and a safe and right place to direct emotion, our wonderings and our wonderment. It's another vehicle of birth which allows the expression of emotion and the safe passage through to communion with ourselves...with others. Snapshots of other minds, other situations. Birth, and out the other side."
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