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 |   A terminal for all blogs coming in or going out. A view into my life. |
Started July 1st 2019 for contests, etc. as other blogs are filling up and have other purposes.  I'm starting a new blog because
I'll be linking to
I've started an appendix (I no longer have one personally) to keep track of my Space Cadet journals for Space Blog. It's a work constantly under construction. Mind the mess.
I needed to start a folder for contests as there are so many deadlines and details to remember.
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"Blogging Circle of Friends "  Day 2943: December 7, 2020. Prompt: “The meaning of life is to find your gift. The purpose of life is to give it away.” ―Pablo Picasso4157 160 (Giving) I... was I a giver? Not exactly. Was Jaafar, 90210, Sheima or the other Wings? Was Gomo? How about... I went down the list. Each person gave in their own way. Wahlena? She was beyond my understanding! Cook? Yes, Cook was a giver. There didn't seem anything he wanted from anyone in return. He gave and gave. Most of the Crew were generous in their sundry ways. Most of the Landers as well. The Engineers and Maintenance people had their own mostly mundane lives but one could sense that they shared what they could. Even the most anti-social among us contributed in some way. It felt like a group of tight families who supported each other. A village, let's say. Cook made certain that no one cocooned themselves too long. He was likely to show up at your door with soup. He didn't seem to mind being a delivery 'boy'. How old was he? It was time for me to ask someone but the Landers were asleep and the Wings were busy avoiding some space rocks. Kat was dreaming so that was a good sign. I went to the lounge. Gomo was snoozing on a couch. Cook was nowhere to be found. I made myself a pick-me-up drink since no one was there to stop me. The aroma of stinky herbs, the cloying sweetness of roots, the... memories of other times and places. I had become accustomed to stray walks with Wahlena, thankful now for what she had taught. As was her way... she came and went as she pleased. She was nowhere to be found. I heard Gomo get up from the couch. "Did you make any for me?" "You like this?" "Nope. It stinks. It woke me up. Will you make me some?" I just rolled my eyes and twitched all four ears. I went to make another cup. "Thanks. If you're drinking this vile whatever-it-is something must be on your mind. Give." "That's it." And sipped quietly. "I was wondering whether I'm giving enough." "As in?" Gomo grimaced and then stuck his tongue out at me. He was spending too much time around humans. "Just a thought. Cook is giving, but am I?" "Can't give what you don't have. What are your gifts?" "You're acting like a human and sounding like Wahlena." "We all have our faults." We both laughed. Then Gomo looked at me as if he were Kat. "I'll tell you one of my gifts. Remember Jindal? I'm not a shape-shifter but I mirror other people. Helps when I'm among a group of sentients I don't know. After awhile they think of me as one of them." "And me?" "Those four ears give you away. You'll never be confused with Cook or Kat." We laughed again. It felt good to laugh. "Seriously though. You observe and listen. Very little frightens you. In a way you are quite brave." "How so?" "Wahlena teaches neither fools nor the timid. You're one of her favorites." I shook my head. "And you don't even know it." Gomo took another quick sip. "We all need to find our gifts so we can give them away. Cook has a heart bigger than Home and freely supplies whatever is needed... and he always seems to know what is needed. Wahlena teaches wisdom. Kat shares her dreams. I give the gift of calming the nerves. You..." Gomo emptied the cup. "You have the gift of observation. And you are wise enough to know when to share it." "Wise?" "Yeah. You're spending too much time with Wahlena instead of me." — an excerpt from Space Cadet. For
"To Err is Human; To Edit, Divine " [E] by Lilli 🧿 ☕  Mini-review: Nice intro that doesn't apply to me but it will ring bells for most writers here at WdC. Mostly good advice. Editing, spell-check and paying attention to your writing really help here, and 'out-there' it's crucial. Especially for publishing. It's been edited this year apparently and that's good as any advice 3 years old needs to be updated as markets and publishing change. I give it a 4.5 because it's well written, helpful and short. It also would be a good intro to a larger work with chapters on editing, editors, publishing, publishers. As a prompt? My thoughts: Well... I wasn't a writer. I hated writing letters. When I was 12 I wrote something good for my final English exam and I once wrote a poem in high school when I was supposed to be writing an essay. I avoided any school subject with lots of writing. I constantly make mistakes and smudged my paper. We didn't have auto-correct, spell-check. We were supposed to take pencil or pen to paper and write it correctly the first and only time. I was a wreck. And I never paid attention to the teachers corrections and since we had large classes and my grades were passing this went mostly unnoticed. I didn't have a diary. I didn't dream of writing. I became a writer late in life. And now I am ... because I write. I have made chapbooks. I pay attention to the actual composition of anything I 'self-publish' even it is just calling cards. To be 'successful' would be nice. To monetize my 'product' feels like prostitution or becoming a used-car salesman. Both are a lot of work. So I don't. 3.365 |
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