Ok, much to the disappointment of all those breathing a sigh of releif at my 5 day absense I'm back. To some degree. Right now I don't much WANT to be here. I'm dying, slowly, painfully, from the throat out. Energy is run down and I'm in agony, lots and lots of agony.

It doesn't help that I feel like there is a pressure on to get so much done. I did however promise to return to blogging. In a way yesterday was my return although when I posted that entry I hadn't planned for it to be. I just dumped it because I felt like sharing but today the lovely Anyea did her sweet little beg and I figured I really SHOULD get back to daily entries.

I'll still take weekends off. I've enjoyed the break of having two nights a week when I don't feel like I HAVE to be here. Some nights entries come easily, others it's torture. Tonight for example I'd rather be in bed, or snuggled up on the couch with a big warm blanket and lots of TV/movies.

All day I've been looking at what I want to get done and procrastinating. I feel like I've gotten very little accomplished so I really should reflect on what I have acheived today. I always feel better when I've acknowledged my accomplishments. I know there is still so much I want to do that didn't get done but I'm sure there are a lot of things that got done I can feel proud of.

I did write a lengthy email that required a great deal of thought and ponderance. I've been talking with my new friend Northernwrites and we seem to be pretty good at communicating and conversing with each other. Of course I feel it's a little one sided at times because Northernwrites knows a great deal and I'm learning and experiencing so much thanks to our conversations/emails.

I tossed out a bunch of GPs to reward reviewers and wrote a list of items I want to review. I had planned to spend today doing reviews but didn't actually get any done. That's most of what is eating away at me at the moment. The fact that I woke up planning to review and then didn't. I should dedicate tomorrow to ensuring some reviews get done.

I wrote a poem. It was actually in relation to a question Northernwrites asked me in an email. My response to the question came as poetry (of sorts) and I left it as poetry. *shrugs* It's no masterpeice but considering how little poetry I've written and the fact that I had resolved to write a poem a day it's something to congratulate myself for.

I did some banking and caught up on a few errand-type things. I learnt a little more about shares and had a private little party about getting my first ever dividend cheque. I'm an investor! I'm a share holder! I have a share portfolio (of sorts) Sure it's not worth much but I've always wanted to get into the stock market trend so I feel really good about my 8 months of shareholding. I'm learning in snippets but I'm starting to understand and I seem to have a fairly lucky hand when it comes to shares *knocks wood* who knows, with more practice, knowledge and experience I might have the path to financial security.

Chatted with 6 different friends via messenger at some point today. Long chats with each about all different sorts of things. One just got home from a nightmare plane travel experience. Didn't particularly relish hearing the horrors of air travel when I'm planning my very first experience for October.

Since settling on the decision to go for that dream I've seen nothing but horrors about air travel. Seriously, normally I'd go a year hearing about maybe 2 plane crashes, this past month alone I've heard of more like 4, two of the particularly serious, lots of dead people. Thousands of planes got grounded the other day in the US apparently. Terrorist threats. Lost luggage. Diversions. Unavailable seats even prebooked ones. Basically it's enough to make me paranoid. Should I be seeing these as signs that I shouldn't be planning this trip?

Hopefully it's just like seeing pregnant women or newborn babies everywhere. I can tell when I'm ovulating because I suddenly start seeing them EVERYWHERE. I could walk through a shopping center on a normal day and notice maybe one pregnant woman and coo over one newborn baby but when I'm ripe I see half a dozen of both on the same sort of trip. lol Of course, no chance I am pregnant, unlike in Trid relations celibacy in rabbits equals zero procreation rate.

Anyway, on that rather TMI I'm going to call it quits. Obviously I'm delirious from being ill. I should definately quit while I'm ahead. Alas, I still don't feel like I got much accomplished today. So I'll tote on the end getting up, showered, dressed, kids same, daughter to school, breakfast, lunch, dinner, laundry, daughter home from school, and a town full of villagers kept healthy and thriving. There we go, now I feel like today was productive. *collapses in exhaustion*

 

I really enjoyed reading the For Authors Newsletter this week and phil1861's article about collaboration and the involvement of others when it comes to writing. Writing isn't a solitary pursuit and producing a book is not something that can be done alone.

I wanted to share the email feedback this issue provoked me to write.

Fantastic issue this week. Great write phil1861! The book I have currently in second draft stages originated from a title given to me by my best friend and a discussion we had months before I began writing it. To me that was a sense of collaboration, if not for his role in my life, his input and his encouragement the book would never have been written. I've also dedicated the book to him as my way of acknowledging the role he had in its creation.

I think in books at least we can come to understand how important the roles of other people can be in the creation of a book. The dedication and acknowledgement sections most particularly tend to be flooded with the names of a great many people from agents to partners, friends, colleges, special editors, reviewers, artists, and of course the publishers. The reference section at the back of books also shows collaboration between the author and other writers through reference materials.

Even the writing process cannot be done alone. Sitting at the keyboard or pen and paper is a solo task but in between those hours of solitary writing is the creative process of rumination which is often done surrounded by and involving other people. Everyone we come into contact with throughout our lives becomes involved in our writing to some degree. We also have the opportunity to research and discuss with the aid of others. I can't imagine any book being written without some sort of collaboration. If anything it begins with our parents and teachers who showed us how to write in the first place back when we were five or six.

The book I'm currently writing began as collaboration in the truer sense of the word. A friend of mine and I originally planned to write it together as a sort of his and hers alternating POV chapters. We worked a few weeks and had spent hours and pages designing the book, picturing it, fleshing it out, bringing the characters to life, developing plot and structure, imagining the actors we were going to choose to star in it when it got produced into a movie, realizing that these characters had potential for sequels. lol A few days into the writing process it looked like it was about to fall through because he no longer wanted to write. After talking however he encouraged me to go ahead with it. So now it’s a solo effort but again, one that would never have come about and could not be completed without the vital ground work laid as a team in the early days.

I think as a writer we will all experience various degrees of collaboration but it is important to remember that no book is ever completed without others. Human kind has a need for connection and we read for that sense of connection. If humans aren't involved in the process the detachment will glare through the pages.

Thank you for a fantastic issue this week. I really enjoyed reading and you've certainly fueled my thought process. I think perhaps part of the reason I'm struggling at the moment is because I'm not reaching out enough. It is time to remember that I don't have to do this alone.

"For Authors Newsletter (March 21, 2007)" 
Thanks for the linking hint Elisa, Stik 15K
 

There are two kinds of people in the world. Don't you love hearing that basic truth/untruth. Obviously there are millions of kinds of people in the world. Every unique person is their own 'kind' in a way and we all compartmentalize in our own boxes. However, for the sake of clarity and to give me something to blog about (for lack of a better topic) we cover the word people vs. the number people.

Alas, I have the misfortune of being best friends with a mathematically inclined Trid. He is misinformed. For some reason he believes that math is good, healthy, and sane. Oh how deranged. MATH IS EVIL!!! It is the curse of Satan and only heretics and super geniuses (like my Trid who probably counts as both) would ever believe otherwise.

I, being, sane, sensible, and blonde understand that words are our salvation. In no way should math ever factor into our lives. Strangely enough I was an A grade math student in school. I say strangely because I never actually learnt my times tables. I to this day have no clue about fractions, algebra, calculus, or all that other mumbo jumbo. I can make change and I can count on my fingers. The only reason I succeeded at math was thanks entirely to some clever person who invented the creative persons salvation, A CALCULATOR.

I take no shame in being 'the mathematically challenged'. I expect our species make up a fairly considerate proportion of humanity. My God is language; I worship words as they are the fundamental key to creating beauty. Mathematics isn't beautiful to me, and yet, a math genius would perhaps argue for the beautiful aspects of a perfectly formed diagram or formula. They'd also argue the creative aura of mathematics being that all life exists to form that math explains.

‘The Fibonacci Sequence’, for example, are found throughout natural creation in various elements as the replication of life. Without this sequence of numbers nothing could exist. They are the building blocks of the division and multiplication of cells that procreate across the world and into the universe. Mathematicians would claim that mathematics is a universal language but it is obviously one that many, even on this planet, never come to understand.

The creative people would argue that music is the only true universal language. It transcends perceptions and people around the world all experience similar emotions invoked by music. Of course since music also depends heavily on mathematics we are left, once again, having to worship the evils of numbers. Satan rules once again. Perhaps numbers ARE the square root of all evil.

There are those of us who will continue to be mathematically challenged. I’m not ashamed of the fact. I am instead, very pleased that I converse well in my language of choice and can explore the right-brained thinking of creativity and imagination. Analytical thinkers, while capable of being whole brained, (again, like my Trid) tend to be rather anal and single-minded.

Having said that perhaps my inability to understand and absorb mathematics is a major failing in my mental associations. Is a logical mind a requirement to a balanced life? Mixing logic with creativity would create a more rounded persona, would it not? It makes me wonder about my readers, which of you are mathematically inclined and which mathematically challenged? Do you feel your life is influenced in any way by your different approach to subjects that require logic vs. imagination?

Having said that, I would suspect that mathematics requires a degree of creativity and imagination. Perhaps it is those of us who are mathematically challenged who are lacking. Ohhhh…. Maybe I can blame my lack of mathematical focus for all my failings in life. I can’t be an author, I don’t know how to do math!

*rolls eyes* Ok, I’m still in a low I should shut up and go put you all out of your misery. But before I do I have to say a bit thank you to Anyea for the great Rudy Blog Hound Hunt today. It kept me entertained when I didn’t much feel like doing anything today. Anyea also featured my blog in her newsletter, "Invalid Item" 

 

Yeah! That's me in a grumpy, stubborn, frustrated mood. Torn between telling my writing to go to hell tonight or getting it over and done with like I should. I really, really, REALLY don't want to tonight but if I let slip tonight then it's another night it doesn't happen which empowers all those others nights it doesn't happen.

I should just shut up and get it done but I smack up against this wall of stubborn refusal. Even this blog entry will turn out to be a bitchy rant because I don't want to be here. I want to be in bed, reading, watching a movie, sleeping, whatever. Whatever I do I just don't want to be here.

Perhaps what I do need is to get away and read. I haven't read a book in a long time and I'm frustrated by that. Reading is one of my greatest joys but lately there just never seems to be enough time to break off and read a book cover to cover. I have so many other responsibilities and obligations that have to come first.

I think that's what I'll end up doing tonight. I SHOULD write Flight of Torque but this build up of dread is killing any desire to be a writer. It can't be good for me. What happened to the joy, the love of writing? What happened to freeing myself on a page? These days it just feels like being crushed by the shackles of my own expectations. When did writing stop being something I want to do and become the only thing I felt I could do?

I can't even do it well. Why am I so focused on a goal I could never truly accomplish. Why do I spend my life chasing the impossible dreams? I'm young enough that I could train up in some other career choice, especially since my youngest starts school next year. There must be something I could do and enjoy doing it.

I feel like a teenager again. This sort of turmoil is what people feel when they're choosing their major. Except I feel like a failure because in a sense I've chosen my major. I've put years into it but not accomplished anything, not even grown. I've become jaded and judgemental.

Sometimes it doesn't feel like my dream at all any more. Just the make believe world I create for myself to make me feel ok about the failure I am as a human being. I label myself a writer and it makes me feel good because I can pretend I'm going to influence the world and bring people joy and teach people the real wonderment of life. But maybe all I'm really doing is finding another way to run away from reality, to be someone I'm not.

I try to find a place inside myself where I truly enjoy writing. I search but all I see is the pain and the regret and the overwhelming shadow of failure and incompetency. I used to believe that writing is something I could learn to do well. But perhaps it's only something someone destined to write learns to do well. If I'm just some stupid bimbo who is destined to live on the bottom rung as the worthless underbelly scum of poverty raising babies and being the erotic fantasy of any single man then I'm certainly fooling myself thinking I could write.

*grimaces* This is making me more determined not to tonight. The blog entry will come to a close and I'll log off and cry myself to sleep, or numb my brain with a movie I've seen a hundred times before, or read one of those chick books that clutter my shelf specifically for times like this when I want to turn the world off and stop existing.

Maybe if I surface I'll remember what I love about writing. Why I do this. Maybe if I surface I'll be able to believe in myself again. Or maybe I will just put the books in the draw, clear out my archives, stack away the guides, and move onto something else. Maybe if I'm really lucky I'll just disappear for good.

 

Today, I am a plumber! Or rather for a few hours yesterday and even less then that today I was a plumber. It's an exhilarating feeling being a woman in today’s world. There are things we are still expected to let men do for us. Culture and years of oppression have taught us that we are weak and incapable and need a man by our side to survive.

I used to be a firm believer of that lie. I was raised by a woman who while being very strong was never without a man by her side. He was the big, strong, capable sort that built houses, cut meat, fixed leaking taps, replaced broken windows, fixed cars, etc. All those handy man jobs around the house were his domain and she firmly left him to it.

Then of course I married my ex-husband who was pretty darn useless in that sense and I began to learn that I was a capable woman who could (and had to) do things for herself. Thankfully my stepfather's capable influence and being included in helping him as I grew up left me in good stead to be able to handle minor things on my own. No longer was changing a door handle, painting a room, hanging a picture or changing a tire something that daunted me.

I've learnt that women are strong and more than capable of doing whatever needs to be done. Sure, we'll use a man to do it if he's handy, but the best of us can get it done without one. *grins* That's right boys, we women like to let you feel useful because getting our hands cut apart and giving our muscles a workout isn't our idea of fun but the truth is, the only thing we ever really need you for is sperm and companionship. But hey, can't complain about that since pretty much all women are very eager for both at some stage.

Anyway, um... off track. Today I was a plumber! I'd walked around to my mothers on Monday morning to work out as we've been doing regularly for weeks now and as I was going around to the front from the back entrance I noticed water, lots of water where water shouldn't be. Of course, she's got a leak in one of her mains pipes.

I managed to convince her we could at least LOOK at the leak without a mans help so we set to shifting a few slabs and digging a little hole in the dirt. It was grubby and awkwardly placed since the pipe ran down under a thicker down pipe and then disappeared under the cement paving of her back porch. But we dug under the concrete until the water started gushing.

She'd by then taken a break but I kept on digging out the dirt and running my fingers down the pipe to find the leak. Mud everywhere and sand in places sand doesn't belong and my laying prone on the concrete so I can reach far enough to get a finger on the leak. But I found it and it was making a real mess. It needed a serious patch.

So, we turned the mains water off (no longer needed it to find the leaky spot) and set off for the hardware since having dug out the hole and examined the problem I'd managed to convince mother we could do it on our own. Of course I also told her to just call a plumber. lol But she didn't like the idea of paying for that. Technically we SHOULD have called a plumber. But being capable women and having a financially stubborn mother I guess we were willing to sacrifice some skin in favor of not waiting or paying for a man to do it for us.

We went in knowing what we wanted and the wonderful men at the small, got every bit and bob you could ever imagine, hardware store hooked us up perfectly. A sledge hammer and joiner later we snuck in a quick take away lunch before heading back to her house and setting too.

My mother is surprisingly capable with a sledge hammer. It made me wonder who she was imagining that concrete was. She was explaining the best way to use a sledge hammer to me since I'd never had cause to use one before and by the time she'd given me about four or five examples of the proper motion there was a beautifully big chuck of rock moved out of our way and the faulty pipe revealed. Or at least the big drain pipe that went directly over the leak was revealed; we still had to work around that part.

So we cut out the section of pipe that was leaking and set about putting the joiner on. Now ladies, this isn't an easy thing to do. It requires muscle power and dedication. Especially when you're trying to do it, while laying down head first into a hole the size of a 18 month old and covered in sand. The sand was grazing our hands and the sharp edges of the concrete scraping and cutting our arms and sand was getting into all my uncovered grooves (cleavage and arm pits).

By noon it still wasn't joined completely and we're in the full sun of an Australian end of summer/early autumn. So we packed it in for the day and headed elsewhere for showers (couldn't shower there after all, no water, duh!)

Today however I headed there straight from dropping my daughter off to school and we set to it. Of course, in the process of fitting the new join we discovered that another hand’s-breadth up the pipe is a join that had been put in earlier. This made us a little concerned about the general integrity of the whole pipe since a couple of months ago Mum had to have a section a few meters further up patched as well. We've decided if another leak springs the whole pipe will have to be replaced which is definitely a plumber job that involves digging up the whole driveway and patio.

Anyway, we managed to get the joiner in place, leak is sealed and water to the house fully restored. HEROS!!! Or rather Heroines. Two women, working together, and feeling incredible for being able to do something that in years gone by most people would consider 'mans work'. The truth is, today genders really are becoming equal. Women are learning to stand on their own feet without a man by their side.

Men are optional and no longer required. Still, it doesn't stop us giving our heart to a special someone. And perhaps he should feel even more special that a fantastic, confident, capable woman wants to let him into her life when she doesn't need to. Of course, that won't get you out of dealing with spiders or fixing the car when problems arise. Just because we CAN do something doesn't mean we won't delegate to the nearest man when possible. Women are far better at management then manual labor. *grins*

 

Ok, so I'm tired and couldn't think of anything to write about tonight. Thankfully I have this fantastic list of Random Topic's to resort to. I keep a few notes in a folder on my HD that are lists designed to spark 'something' to write about. Today this one jumped out at me, it's as good as any other.

Anyone who has followed my blog or me around for any duration would know that I'm the very lucky mother of two beautiful, wonderful, fantastic, smart, talented kids. My daughter is six and my son is two. They're both brilliant but tonight is all about baby boy. *ponders* I'll have to think of a new name for him soon. I can't exactly keep calling him Baby Boy when he's an adult. I mean I can get away calling my six-year-old dog Puppy but when it's a child...

Baby Boy's always been very clever. He's a regular enough kind of kid but of course being my son he's the apple of my eye. I think he's pretty special, mostly in the sense of milestones however he's pretty average. Of course, even at 2 he'd kick your but in a matching or bowling game on the PC. *hangs head* Sorry, the shame of gamers raised by gamers. My kids learn keyboard commands long before they learn to write. (which btw helps them learn to write later)

Anyway, the only milestone Baby Boy's never quite met the challenge of is talking. Baby's usually go though the first few months of their lives saying little but by the first year they should have a fairly clear pronounciation of a few specific words. Mine, said nothing. He wouldn't even TRY to verbalize in his first year. But at a year old it's not really a big deal, it was an obvious delay but everyone kept saying, "Just give him time, when he decides to talk you'll never shut him up."

All thought his second year the same advice comes down from the mothers and I'm reassured that there are other boys who are slow to start talking. Thankfully I do appreciate that men in general tend to have a whole lot less to say then women.

It's been frustrating over the years to understand him. But in the last six months he's made some small puddle jumps toward communicating. I'm always so excited when day by day he's taking more chances. He went from stubbornly refusing to say anything at all to being able to be coaxed into making animal noises and saying a few words. His first word? Ok, you'd want me to say, "Mum." But alas, 'tis not so. His first word was officially (ie. translated by Mummy) "ball".

These days he's still unclear on pretty much all of his words. We had his hearing tested about 8 months ago and everything came back normal. I'm very certain he hears well because he's bright, he'll follow complex commands, he does as he is told, he listens to music and stories, he's always very aware of sounds. He'll pick out the exact location of any airoplane in the sky in seconds, sometimes long before I hear it. These days that's accompanied with, "ane ane ane" Which is Baby Boy for "plane" or "airoplane".

Every day I try to encourage him to use language. He's very strong willed and when pushed he can shut down and become completely unreceptive so it's always a very fine line. There is the stage when it's a game and the stage when he's had enough and closes up. Today the word was, "Biscuit" Actually the actual word doesn't matter, what I aim for when getting him to talk (ask for something) is sound and syllable count. B-Q or is-ut or Bee-cut etc. would work. I think the best I got was bee-ut but for a Baby Boy who usually doesn't even TRY to talk it was brilliant.

I of course being the doting mother I am smother him with hugs and kisses and praise plus the real reward, a handful of biscuits. lol I've found bribing him with food always works best. Normally his method of communication is to come, grab my arm and drag me to whatever he wants the point at it. No matter how much prompting I do he tries to resort to that method. And being two if I stand firm on insisting he use his words to get what he wants he'll cry his little heart out. I'm so evil sometimes.

But he's learning, he really is. He'll be three next month and I'm hoping his language will come a long way in the year ahead. He'll start school next year and if he's still not doing much talking they'll have trouble. In six months if he's not doing much better I'll take him in for another hearing test and push him up on the speech therapy list.

I try not to worry, but what mother doesn't worry about her kids. In every other way he's doing beautifully. He's kind, considerate, starting to associate with other kids again (after a couple of months where they were all very scary), he builds fantastic airoplanes out of lego, flies with arms wide like a plane when he runs on the grass, is totally plane mad. *chuckles* I'm sure he's looking forward to actually being IN a plane later this year.

Ok, overly sufficient ramble. See, a topic that at least gets a blog entry done. Lame as it is. It does make me wonder when I last talked about Baby Boy in relation to his not talking. I'm sure I have done it before. Oh well, I never tire of talking to my kids and if you do feel free to smack the X button on the top corner of your screen. *grins*

Meanwhile, time to dump 500 on The Flight of Torque so that I can finally get some ZZZ's.
 

On Wednesday I mentioned working up the courage to, at last, submit one of my poems to a publisher. Part of the process as a writer is submissions. Unfortunately the financial backing just isn't there for poetry agents so we poor poets have to do both the creative and the logic aspects of being published. Part of the process involves writing a cover letter.

Now cover letters are both simple and complex at the same time. The purpose is to say enough that the editor has a gist of what they're about to read, has a rough idea what the author is like, hears their voice, has a brief sense of why they're qualified to write a particular topic and decide if they're going to even bother reading the submission.

The real trouble is that writers have to design a cover letter that presents a positive, enticing, and educated front to a publisher as quickly as possible. Publishers are busy people. They have so many submissions in their slush pile that they don't have time to waste reading lengthy cover letters. They have to make almost snap judgments and they've all got certain things that tip the scale between reading a submission or stamping out a form rejection.

Just as we do with work applications and interviews it's very tempting to puff up a cover letter. Sometimes the facts aren't all that glamorous so what do we do? The answer: Primping without Lying. *grins*

For example, I'm an "Award Winning Published Poet". It sounds far more exciting then admitting that this is the first submission I've ever made. It's also not exactly a lie. It's a primp but it's not a lie. I have indeed won awards and I do indeed have published poetry. The fact that my publisher is The International Library of Poetry (poetry.com), a vanity press, is not important. The fact that I've self-published here on WDC and a couple of years ago on redpaper.com doesn't matter. The fact is that I'm published. I'm also Award Winning. With multiple first, second, and third place awards here on WDC and an Editors Choice Award from the ILP.

As I was writing the punchy descriptive into the cover letter I remembered an anecdote I'd read in a viral email at some point about Motherhood. I don't have the email but I'll try and convey the gist by paraphrasing:

A stay-at-home-mother was filling in a form in the DMV when the attendant asked what her occupation was. In the past she'd had to admit, "I don't have a job, I'm a mother."

This response was usually met by the posh career women with distain and the crisp all cap word, "HOMEMAKER" scrawled into the offending career box.

Tired of being disrespected because she had acknowledged the importance of staying home to raise her children herself this bright, intelligent mother finally put her foot down and stated firmly, "I'm a Research Associate in the field of Child Development and Human Relations."

The attendant’s attention perked and she proceeded to ask all about this intriguing and obviously respectful career. The mother informed her, "I have a continuing program of research, (what mother doesn't) in the laboratory and in the field, (normally I would have said indoors and out). I'm working for my Masters, (the whole darned family) and already have four credits (all daughters). Of course, the job is one of the most demanding in the humanities, (any mother care to disagree?) and I often work 14 hours a day, (24 is more like it). But the job is more challenging than most run-of-the-mill careers and the rewards are more of a satisfaction rather than just money."

*blushes* Ok, so I stopped paraphrasing that last bit and went and hunted exactly how it goes. The wonders of the world-wide-web huh? We can find anything. For anyone interested in the rest of that anecdote check out: http://buzzy.lifewithchrist.org/permalink/20888

Anyway, my point is that it's easy to talk yourself up without lying. You just have to gain a new perspective on your accomplishments. If you've never had anything published but you've been writing since you were a child you're at least 'Experienced'. If you've had a few five star ratings on WDC you've had, "A number of rave reviews."

Another aspect you can use in your favor is a connection to various groups. Browse the web in your category for any prestigious groups you could join. Some have very strict membership requirements that require prior publication credits but others are free to join. Be careful in choosing to mention any of these because if you haven't done your research you could mention a group that has negative connotations for the editor. Poetry.com for example would probably suggest 'amateur' in neon letters.

Of course, the most important thing is to be honest and state your case. The best cover letter is one that conveys why an editor would want to publish your work. Never forget the K.I.S.S rule. Keep It Simple, Sexy (I use this because it's true in my case but silly, stupid or studmuffin work too).

Primp it without Lying but don't forget, if the editor makes it through your cover letter you better hope your work is equally brilliant. A fantastic cover letter will not get a sub par piece published. The work shouldn't need the cover letter to sell it. The cover letter just cuts down a publishers work because if you can't even put one of those together without correct spelling, impeccable grammar, or an interesting voice they don't want to waste their time on your submission.

Of course, the important thing is to press the send button or put the submission in the letter box. Publishers can’t reject your cover letter or your work if it never reaches their desk. They also can’t decide to publish it and pay you for it. So get the circulation happening and never forget the vital aspect you have to remember, KEEP WRITING!

 

I'm one of those really lucky people who live in a world fairly sheltered from crime and disasters that effect whole communities. We're an antigun country. I've never seen a real gun in my life and I'm glad. I can't remember a local bank being robbed or a child being stabbed in a school. I like to pretend that sort of thing just doesn't happen here but I'm not THAT naive.

Really, while those sorts of crimes CAN happen they are so incredibly rare that they'd be top breaking, on the hour, every hour, kind of news. Our prime hour of news tends to cover feature stories about loser Dad's who skip out on child maintenance payments, single mothers who make it in big business, million dollar lotto winners, and how the latest diet craze effects health.

The highlights on crime tend to focus in other areas of the world. Shoot outs in the US, terrorist bombings in Bali and the UK, suspicious plane crashes in Indonesia and Africa. More locally we get serious car accidents, bush fires, animal mutilation and very little else.

Of course, over the past few years the crime rate has been rising. It's also been getting closer, and closer to home. Serious assault in Northbridge or along the train routes perhaps Gosnells or Subiaco. Wild parties that got a little too wild with drugs and alcohol in Coogee. Knife fights in the city after dark.

Mostly however all seemed pretty quiet and low key. Then, recently we've had attempted kidnappings, attempted mugging, stabbings, car theft, and even murder. The crime rises locally but it's most significant when it hits close to home and it never had been as close as it was today.

My daughter went to school as she normally does every weekday. We enjoy the 20 minute walk the few blocks to her school in the already glaring morning sunlight. The air is warm this time of year but not overbearing and the walk is one we're accustomed to, even my two-year-old manages it the whole way there and only uses the pram for the return trip home.

As usual I left her at school thinking it was just another day and in the afternoon returned, walking those same 20 minutes in the oppressive heat but still, accustomed to doing so and although hot I enjoy the walk. As I got to the school I knew something was wrong. I walk past the school's office on the way to her classroom and outside were three men. Two of them were talking in rapid jargon on their mobile phones. I could tell right off that they were out-of-uniform police officers. The third was in a rather official looking white shirt but I couldn't tell what it was, I think maybe he was a medic or something for the police department. I'd almost think ambulance attendant but there was no ambulance in sight, I guess it's still possible if the vehicle was parked the other side of the school.

Anyway, this isn't such a strange thing. They have the men-in-blue at the school from time to time for the Constable Care Awards and other educational purposes. Then of course I came in sight of the quadrangle aka assembly area. Hundreds of students had recently been packed in there with the major speakers out. Those speakers are the ones designed to address the entire school. By now classes were being herded back to their rooms and the undercover area was clearing fast. Again, this was not something particularly remarkable but definitely noteworthy when coupled with police presence. Something was going on and I wanted to know what.

There were whispers from the other mothers at the door of the classrooms (I'd say parents but there are rarely any Dad's picking up their kids). We all knew something was up but few had any real idea. I got to talking to one mother who did. She'd arrived early that afternoon (to get a parking spot since the parking situation is a nightmare) and had been pulled aside by a teacher.

"The police were chasing down a car thief who had dumped the stolen vehicle and disappeared into the school grounds for cover." As a mother my heart rate climbed at this news. I've been in touch the whole day so if something had happened to my daughter I'd have known about it by then but it's still really scary to consider how close to danger she had been. Odds are the car thief had no plans on being violent or using the kids as leverage to escape being caught but when someone, obviously already desperate, is cornered there's no telling what he'll do.

Thankfully, the police rounded him up pretty quickly. Our cops are good like that. Not much happens but when something does they're right their dealing with it as quickly and safely as possible. The schools emergency systems were put to the test and performed perfectly. This particular situation was a lockdown. That meant alarm spread via the announcement system that the school had been put on lockdown and all teachers knew what that meant.

Basically a lockdown involves securing classrooms. They turn the locks on every door and window, do an attendance-check to ensure all children are in the rooms they should be and then stay like that until the all clear is given. Some of the younger kids had no idea that anything strange was happening. It was done with calm digression and the kids just kept on working. A mother who has a younger child in kindergarten told me, "They just told the kids that today was the day everyone tested their locks to make sure they work." That sounds pretty reasonable to me, nothing to worry about there.

Of course my daughter is a year two now and I can't say I'm too pleased with the way her teacher informed them what was happening. I mean honesty is great, but you have to cover all angles. My daughter tells me that her teacher told her, "There is a bad man in the school and the police are catching him." Ok, if I was six/seven that would freak me out. Personally, if I were going to admit the truth to the kids like that I'd also go so far as to tell them exactly HOW they were being protected and that none of them were in any danger. I'd also probably (if I knew) admit he had stolen a car because 'bad man' creates some pretty nasty pictures for kids these days what with all the stranger-danger education they get.

Ultimately everything was dealt with beautifully. The kids all walked away with a little bit of a scare, a moderate degree of excitement and a criminal was apprehended by the police. I'm proud of the way the school dealt with the incident but it really does drive home how serious the rate of crime is climbing. Even here in the backwoods of the civilized world (ok, maybe Western Australia isn't THAT backwoods, lol) the crime rate is increasing.

How long before we need metal detectors in our schools? How long before every other person on the street carries a gun (for protection *rolls eyes*)? How long before we're triple and quadruple locking our doors and windows and actually using the noise producers that are considered alarm systems? How long before a serious crime touches home?

 

Ok, so I just clicked send on my first official poetry submission. That's right, other than my few stints with poetry.com I've never really attempted to have anyone publish my poetry. I submitted a flash fiction a couple of years ago that was firmly rejected (rightfully so) and I've had a couple of articles published but I've never really promoted my poetry.

Today, about thirty minutes ago, I clicked the send button on my first submission and I'm still fretting over it. I've researched the market. I've studied the do's and don'ts about cover letters, I've admired my poem and think it's pretty darn good and perfect for the magazine I submitted it to. Of course, even as prepared as I am I'll fret for the 2-4 weeks before I find out the outcome. I can't help but wonder if I've presented myself professionally or if I sound particularly clueless. Will my subject line pre-empt me into the trashcan. Will my opening acknowledgement, the letter, the bio, or the poem make me worthy of a rejection slip?

It's strange but the more I think about all the little nuances that could effect the outcome the more I come to realize that none of it really matters at all. No matter what the outcome I'm still the same person in pretty much exactly the same place as I was an hour ago, five minutes ago, tomorrow, a week from now, or a month from now. Getting published or rejected by this one little magazine over a poem that took me a few hours to write isn't really a big deal.

The truth is I never planned to publish any of my poetry. I'm a novelist who is dabbling in seeing if I can earn a cup of coffee from my poetry hobby. I could use the cups of coffee I earn from poetry to tide me over the year minimum it'll take to get paid for The Flight of Torque. I'm not expecting anything life changing to happen from submitting my work. Although perhaps with all the poetry rejections I'm bound to start piling up I'll grow a thicker skin and be able to handle it when my books start getting rejected. Of course, I doubt that, the time and energy and significance I give my books puts them in a whole other ball park. lol

Now I say goodbye to "Can I, Mommy?" at least for the next few weeks and I move onto other things. Actually, having said that I've been thinking about seeing if I could develop "Can I, Mommy?" into a children's book. It could work beautifully as one instead of a poem. That's another reason I'm not really concerned if the magazine accepts it or not. Either way I could develop it into a children's book if I decide to.

I do have to make sure I keep writing FoT and I've been working hard with the "Invalid Item"  as well as my "Invalid Item"  and of course writing more of my own poetry and entering contests. *chuckles* Again, just my writing accomplishments. *blushes* I really have been busy and productive lately. *grins* Of course, again, it's almost midnight and I still have things to get done before I can crash to sleep so I better run.

 

There are fantastic days when you feel like you really get a lot accomplished and others when you feel like you're barely out of bed before it's all over. Some days drag on and you get by doing nothing. Other days you're doing so much but there just isn't enough time to do more.

Today was more like the latter. I woke, bright and moderately early. Not the 5AM early I've been aiming for but that's because I slept badly again last night and gave myself an hour to sleep in. So this morning I was up and started the day with a hot cup of tea and my emails. It's always a wonderful way to start the day.

I managed to get some work done in the morning but there is so much I want to do and there just never seems enough time to get it all. Slotting in some manner of work schedule amidst taking my daughter to school, working out, doing the grocery shopping, returning to pick my daughter up from school, doing her homework with her, getting dinner for the family, getting kids to bed etc. It's a crazy kind of schedule, especially in 42C heat. The kids don't want to sleep in heat like this so their bedtime lingers for hours with them up, excuse after excuse.

Thankfully even with a two year old distracting me I managed to get 600 words of FoT done. I'm tempted to do at least another 500 tonight to make up for taking a sick day yesterday. It wasn't painful tonight. At least not as painful as it can be. I know where I'm going and I'm beginning to live Tori/Torque again which is a good sign. Even Lucas is coming easier these days.

I also managed to do a little processing on the Poetry Submission aspect. It is chaotic and overwhelming a lot of the time. There are so many markets and I feel so small and insignificant when I read over the published submissions. Somehow I feel like I could never possibly be ready to enter the world of poetry publication. Another part of me reminds me that while my work isn't brilliant with perseverence I could get some of it published and in trying I'll write more new poetry and grow and develop further.

That is assuming I can sort out the chaos in my mind and be brave enough to send SOMETHING to one of the millions of markets out there. So far I feel like I'd have to write specifically for the market which is ok I suppose. I'll have to spend a day writing a collection of submissions for a market and get them out there. I could, if I continue working hard get multiple submissions out each month.

Of course, that's all on top of what I've already promised myself to do. I have "Invalid Item"  obligations, daily reviewing, daily poetry, email, FoT, blog, etc. Those are all only my writing obligations. Adding to that family, home and health aspects as well gives me a pretty full on plate each and ever day. No wonder I was wiped out this weekend.

Thankfully, most of the time I just feel energized and optimistic when facing so many projects. Especially since I really am making steady progress on all of them. FoT is really coming along now and I'm feeling very positive about the directions it's taking. One foot in front of the other of course because I only feel good when I focus on the now aspect instead of what's to come.

In fact I really should carry that creed into every area of my life. It's the forward thinking that causes my inner turmoil. I need to pay more attention to the baby steps along the way. Perhaps if I acknowledge all the baby steps I've taken today I'll realize that I've done a great deal, more than enough for a single day. Tomorrow I'll have the opportunity to make a few more steps and in no time at all my future will be upon me.