Rave — If this doesn’t make you smile, nothing will.
There’s a cardinal in there somewhere.
Reading and Writing
“Judge not, that ye be not judged. For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again.” — Matthew 7:1-2, KJV
I just finished judging three entries in a writing contest. And I genuinely liked each one; how cool is that?
Yes, this year, I got lucky. But, even on those occasions that I don’t love every entry, I still love being a judge — probably because I like inflicting my opinion on others.
No, I lied. My motive is actually (amazingly) pure. I want to help others, and consequently myself, grow as writers.
You see, in evaluating someone else’s material, it’s necessary to ask , “What do I like about this, and why?” Judging forces me to be a more critical reader, ultimately benefiting not only the contestant’s writing but also my own.
Plus, what goes around, comes around. I feel like I’m storing up good karma by judging with compassion, offering encouragement and gentle constructive criticism instead of nasty comments. It’s as if, by doing so, I’m asking the universe to ensure my own work will be treated with the same respect.
Make no mistake; I don’t claim to be an expert, not by a long shot. Still, I’ve read enough reviews to know that there is no “right” opinion about what’s good or bad. Rather, there are different viewpoints on almost everything, and the fact that I don’t expect the writer to take what I say as gospel frees me to be able to voice what I think about their story.
I hope that each writer will take my criticism in the spirit it was offered, as one person’s perspective on what they have written. By the same token, I trust that someone out there is someone doing the same for my entries.
And if being kind in my judgment results in a little good karma coming my way, so much the better.
An (Extremely Brief) Rave:
Congratulations, Diane R. You won Tina Wellings, Cowboys Never Cry fo visiting RRR&R and leaving a comment on Tina Welling’s guest posting.
Thanks to all who stopped by that day! I hope you’ll continue visiting, and maybe (someday) I’ll have books of my own to give away.
But not if I don’t get busy!
Reading and Writing
Tina Welling's "Cowboys Never Cry"
Today’s post is from Tina Welling, author of Fairy Tale Blues, Crybaby Ranch, and Cowboys Never Cry. I met Tina via email when I wrote to tell her how much I enjoyed Cowboys Never Cry. She graciously offered to do a guest post and I was delighted to accept. Not only that, she’s giving away a signed copy of Cowboys Don’t Cry to a lucky reader who comments on her post. So, please be sure to tell us what you think!
For more information on Tina, visit her website at www.tinawelling.com.
And, as always, thanks for dropping by. Now, here’s Tina…
Life is a good news/bad news situation. The bad news is that we are all going to die someday (I’m sorry to just blurt that out like that). The good news is that we get to live until we do. While I was writing my novel COWBOYS NEVER CRY, I became aware that writers need to live more fully than their readers. We must be exquisitely aware of ourselves and our surroundings and the life force that throbs within us in order to evoke that in readers.
Some writers in the past have thought that living fully meant drinking a lot, eating exotic foods, having many lovers, traveling to foreign places, and putting themselves in life-threatening danger. A full life, as many viewed it, was found at the extremes. I think of Ernest Hemingway running with the bulls, deep sea fishing, big game hunting, and then returning home to use the material for his writing. These activities appeared to be living life to the hilt to readers who were struggling through a world war or the Depression that followed. Limited choices described the daily lives of most people during those times. Now most everyone can experience drinking a lot, eating exotic foods, having many lovers, traveling to foreign places, and life-threatening danger is as close as the nearest expressway.
I live in Jackson Hole, Wyoming where much of the population enjoys outdoor adventures on a daily basis – extreme skiing, mountain climbing, backcountry hiking. My hometown audience gets their reading adventures by just picking up the newspaper. I thought about this as I wrote COWBOYS NEVER CRY and I decided that readers still desire to have their novels be about experiences that are not easily accessible to them, yet that desire has changed from a broader experience of life to a deeper experience of life.
My goal was to incorporate that idea in COWBOYS NEVER CRY.
While writing with humor – because everything is more fun when you’re laughing – I also told a story of people’s lives that held an intensity and fullness and intimacy uncommon to many of us. But a writer can’t fake that anymore than Hemingway could fake running with the bulls. A writer must experience the wild edges of aliveness in order to write about them with vivid truth.
Once, in writing about the stars overhead, a writer could express knowledge about their configurations and the myths and legends behind them to reach deeply into their reader. Now as a writer, I need to know the stars in my body, feel them burn my skin, sense their light pinning me to the planet. If I can do that, the vibrancy and authenticity that only come from true experience will ignite those same feelings in the reader.
So if life is a good news/bad news situation, both reading and writing can lead to more of the good news, experiencing life more fully.
Definitely a Rave
If you’re one of the 157,000 women (give or take a few thousand) who received roses today, stop reading.
Ditto for the chocolate and jewelry.
I mean it. Close the window on your browser and find something else to do. This post is for the rest of us.
Are they gone? Good. Here’s a graphic, just to capture the mood.
(Go on over to http://www.meish.org/vd/ if you’d like to see some more).
Blame it on the fairy tales. You know, the ones that taught us that Prince Charming would come along and make us happy?
Poor guy. No one ever thought about what made him happy. If he’s anything like my prince, happiness definitely doesn’t come wrapped in a heart-shaped box of chocolate. Or any other box, for that matter.
Which can be a problem. You see, I’m a middle child — the one couldn’t be the first at anything and didn’t get the unqualified love received by the baby of the family.
Middle children measure. We weigh. We worry about getting our fair share. In everything, from a glass of juice to presents under the Christmas tree. Of course, this really translates to deep-seated anxiety that someone else might be loved more than we are.
Sad, but true. Add in those damned fairy tales, and I was doomed to buy into the idea that some man I hadn’t met yet was responsible for making me happy.
And I believed it. Right up until I hit twenty-five with no prince in sight.
So I’m a slow learner; I get there eventually.
It was then, way back in 1986, that I suddenly thought, “What if he doesn’t come? This prince, this man who’s going to make my life wonderful? Am I supposed to just wait?”
That seemed kind of — okay, outright — stupid, so I got my act together and decided to make a life that included all the things that I wanted.
And, you know what? I had a pretty good start before I screwed up and fell for a man who was such a loser he doesn’t even warrant an explanation here.
Still, I picked myself up, dusted myself off, and went back to work shaping my destiny.
Then, I met D. — the one who is not a fan of Valentine’s Day — and, over the (many) years we’ve been together, we’ve worked out a compromise. Sort of. He generally gives in and gets me a card. I get him one, and we agree not to say anything more about it.
Until today. When there was no card. For me, I mean.
I felt hurt. He felt — I don’t know — maybe persecuted? Suffice to say, neither of us felt happy.
And, gosh, gee whiz, isn’t that what a romantic holiday is all about? Making each other miserable?
Hmm … I think things have gotten a little bit skewed (or screwed, depending how you look at it). Who made him responsible for me being happy?
Um, that would be me. And why would I do that?
Oh yeah, it’s that middle child thing again, saying, “You love me, buster? Prove it!”
Well, he does. In many ways. From spending hours chipping the ice off the driveway to taking out the compost without being asked. Who says he has to succumb to someone else’s expectations of how to behave on Valentine’s Day?
Um, that would be me. Again. And that’s not fair. So, I want to be treated like a princess on Valentine’s Day. How does that outweigh his desire to ignore the holiday?
Besides, do I really want roses? No, not really. The ones from the florist never smell as good as the ones I manage to coax from our shady yard. Chocolate? No, I’m on my annual mid-winter diet. Diamonds? Uh, not a big fan of a rock whose price is artificially inflated and controlled by one company. (Can you say monopoly?)
What I want is to be reminded that D loves me.
He does. I know that. That’s going to have to be good enough.
Many years ago, at my high school, they sold flowers on the holidays. For four years, I longed for someone to buy me one of those artificially colored carnations. For Valentine’s Day, Sweetest Day — hell, I would have settled for one of the green ones on St. Patrick’s Day.
No one ever did.
Finally, on Valentine’s Day, when I was a senior, it dawned on me that no one ever would. I thought, “Damn it. I work. I have money. I don’t need someone else to buy my flowers. If I want one, I’ll buy it myself.”
And I bought one.
One of the more popular guys in our class asked me, “Who bought your flower, Kim?” (That was before I became Kym). So, I told him.
“I did,” I said. “No one else would.”
You know what? He smiled and seemed kind of impressed.
Smart girl, that seventeen-year-old me. She could teach the fifty-year-old me a thing or two.
Next year, if I want something for Valentine’s Day, I’m buying it myself.
But I don’t need hearts and flowers for my happy ever after.
Do you?
I’ll close with this because sometimes all you really need is a good cup of tea.
Or a nice glass of wine. Whatever works for you. Cheers.
Raving
“….just hanging on while this old world keeps spinning
And it’s good to know it’s out of my control
If there’s one thing that I’ve learned from all this living
Is that it wouldn’t change a thing if I let go.”
It was my birthday this week, and as I alluded to in an earlier post, it was a big one. Not huge, but big enough, and it certainly warrants an appropriate posting. The trouble is, I feel like I should write something profound that will bowl readers over with my insight and wisdom. From one who is usually so ready to offer her opinion, you’d think that would be easy, but I’m coming up dry.
So, instead I’ll offer a few small things I’ve learned along the way to fifty.
Oh, and try to see Jimmy Buffett at least once if you can.
And now, I’ll sign off with words much wiser than any I could write. Words to live by from Max Ehrmann.
Desiderata
Written by Max Ehrmann in 1927
Go placidly amid the noise and haste, And remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly & clearly; and listen to others, even the dull & ignorant; they too have their story.
Avoid loud & aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain & bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing future of time. Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals; and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity & disenchantment it is perennial as the grass. Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue & loneliness. Beyond wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees & the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labours & aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul. With all its sham, drudgery & broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.
Reading and Raving — I’m claiming this as literary because almost all of the men in this video are from movies based on books. Thanks to my friend, Katrina, for reminding me of it. Enjoy!
Reading, Writing, Ranting and Raving 