It's been three weeks since I've touched my MS or read something for my critique partners. I haven't even thought about my MS. Haven't read any writing blogs. Barely have I solcialized with my twitter writer peeps. I've barely even read a book! Between kids being home for summer and vacations, writing times are tough. Now that I am home, I will try to resume to normal. ("Try" being the operative word. Until kids are out of my hair, that may be near impossible.)
Being away from my craft for so long, I almost forgot I was a writer. It's a silly notion to think one could forget. It's like leaving house without your shoes. Not likely but possible. How do you forget? It's this thing called life and it can get carried away and keep preoccupied.
How about you, do you ever forget you are writer?
Monday, July 25, 2011
Monday, July 18, 2011
(The flower to the left is a weed. My favorite.)
What am I doing?
- Picking wild blackberries. So juicy and delicious. I hope I find enough to make a cobbler.
- Swimming and laying out by the pool.
- Riding four wheelers
- Feeding the fish at my father's pond and when they come for the free meal, we catch them. That's lazy man's fishing. So mean. We throw them back. Less dangerous than shooting them with a pistol.
- Eating chicken livers because they are the best ever!
Here are the critters we have seen since we have been home (and I'm not talking road kill):
- Momma skunk and her three babies teetering across the road.
- Possum and six babies scattered on the highway at night.
- Young raccoon.
- Six vultures (pecking at a squashed armadillo.)
- Three wild turkeys and their chicks.
- Giant bull frog, size of my palm.
- Donkeys, goats, Shetland ponies, buffalo, lemurs, llamas, horses, and cattle. (all owned by various family members.)
- Bats, bats and bats.
Does any of this matter? No, but I love nature and revel in the chance to see it up close and personal. Something my California boys never get the opportunity.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Fried green tomatoes just a backyard away.
Homemade Muscadine Wine.
Tiger lilies on steroids.
Hibiscus on crack.
Cicada shells to creep the kids out.
Butterflies the size of your thumbnail.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
But never fear, I plan to blog every day. Key word "plan." Plan to and what actually happens are two different things. There are few days I will be without internet so plan or not, it won't happen. Also, my posts will mostly be about me and my life in Tennessee. Whether it be about now, childhood, etc. So you'll get to see a little more about me. Hopefully (dude, enough with the adverbs already) you find it interesting.
What are your summer plans? Do they cramp your writing too?
Sunday, July 3, 2011
WARNING: Profanity will run rampant in this post. Easily offended is fair warned.
On Twitter, Facebook and in blogs I see swear words disguised as: a$$, effing, f**k, Shiz, mofo, beeotch, mugger fugger, sh**, or WTF. Just to name a few. I understand that the purpose of disguising a swear word is to try to come off less offensive and/or to keep your tweets, blogs, status rated PG. I’ve done it myself. And I have no problem with people disguising their words for whatever reason they see fit.
But I have to tell ya, when I read a$$, I still read “ass” not “a money money.” Or if you write WTF, I read “what the fuck” and not “double-u tee eff.”
Who are we really fooling? Do dollar signs really censor the word or more importantly the meaning? Even using darn instead of damn, is still considered cursing, according to dictionary.com (verb 2. to curse; damn/ idiom 3. give a darn. damn.)
I’ve never had a problem with cursing, among adults. To me, it’s the meaning/emotion behind the words I put value on. For instance, which do you find more to be more hateful?
“This is the best fucking writing ever!”
“Your fucking writing sucks like a vacuum!”
(For the record, I appreciate some censorship, especially in music. I always buy the clean version when available or I can’t listen to it around my children.)
I know a lot of people find profanity offensive, so I will continue to disguise my words, occasionally. But I have to ask, does sprinkling colored sugar on a pile shit make it a chocolate cupcake?