A Work in Progress

You know what I find hilarious? Bookmarks. Not the concept of a  bookmark itself, but what we use to mark our book's page. I remember reading an article once about libraries and the bookmarks the librarians find with all the returned books. Banana peels, toilet paper, pens. You name it, they are the lucky recipients of it. The bookmark is as individual as the person using it, as much as the book choice of each person. And as a vintager, one who buys, sells and wears vintage, I also pick up used and -- sometimes vintage -- books. Because, second-hand books are the best invention ever. The bookmarks I find in said books are comical. If not insightful. For example, here's one from a middle-grade read. And I have a few questions: Was the reader reading this in the kitchen? Why the torn Ziploc box bit? Why not a plastic bag? Or was the Ziploc box headed out to the recycling? A foil or plastic wrap bookmark would've been great, too. Then ther

I say two things all the time, and the people who know me tire of it. It's: 1. Never say never. 2. Timing is everything Think you'd "never" do something based on your likes or dislikes? This dress. Geez, I love it. Thankfully I started wearing vintage and liking pink again. Whew. That was close .. . Think something will "never" happen because of your situation? Think again. I find that whenever I say "never" it's due to pride.  My pride. Either it's because I'm living a "holier than thou" moment and think I'll "never" do something based on what I see others doing or have done. Or I'm saying "never" because I've already been through something and I'll "never" do, deal with, have, go, own, like, etc -- fill in the blank. Whatever it is I'll "never" participate in because I have no faith in a great future or my vision is so narrow, that my "view" is the

Pennies are everywhere, right? I mean, they're on the ground, at the cash register at Starbucks, they're probably in your sofa cushions. A few weeks ago, I began to notice random pennies on the ground when I was about town, running errands, and fueling the car. And it wasn't just one day, they started appearing repeatedly -- it became every day, after every errand, to the point that I began to wonder what was going on. I couldn't ignore them. But, "It's just a penny. Why stop to pick it up? What can it do for me?" Maybe I was going about this all wrong. This jar will be full very soon. After a week or two, it began to bother me not picking up that single penny. It's as if God was saying, "I will provide for you but you have to take it," every time I saw one in the dirt, on the street, underneath a counter. And I was intentionally ignoring it.  By not picking them up, I was saying, "This blessing is too small. This

I came across a quote written by J.R.R. Tolkien the other day. He said: "You can only come to the morning  through the shadows." Now, I've read Tolkien's Lord of the Rings Trilogy a few decades ago. So, I don't recall who said these words (they may not even be from a work, but spoken by himself, though I think not) but they ring true. Similar to "it's always darkest before the dawn" and "...though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil" (Psalm 23), they essentially say the same thing. Tolkien's phrase caught my attention because of the word "shadows." These are the things we think we see, or presuppose, or assume, or pretend are there, or any innumerable things we can substitute for the words shadows. Shadows imply something that is there, but the very thing is unclear. Do we see what we actually think we see? After going to bed thinking about these words, and how they apply to u

There's a much-adhered bit of writing advice that most writers are told, whether it's from a teacher, mentor, critique partner or book. It's this: To write well, you must read. And it's true. It's like studying art work if you paint or sculpt Or watching dramas or theater if you're an actor. You have to study the craft in which you create. As Stephen King said in his perfect book On Writing , " If you don’t have time to read, you don’t have the time (or the tools) to write. Simple as that” (147)." Yep. Also, I think I need to add that one needs to write in order to be a great writer. I know. How obvious, right? But, it's not to some. I know "writers" who only write the book they are working on, but nothing else. They don't write short stories, articles, poems, not even a blog. They don't do any writing other than the latest book they're working on. And edit it. Over and over. Day in and day out. Wher

When I go to sleep at night, my mind literally goes back over the events of the day, chronologically ... but backwards. I didn't realize I did this until I noticed within five minutes -- and nearing the point of falling asleep -- I was thinking about events that happened in the very beginning of the day. I'll think about my puppy, following me around when I'm home, and doing this. Then I'll think about how my husband was painting the entire trellis, and not complaining about it. And then  I'll think about my son driving me today, and how we both wore camo. (And how we didn't rear end anything.) It was weird. And enlightening. And a little bit like looking at snap shots, actual photos, of each major event of the day. Even if the major events were really not so major. And it made me think about how the little things really all add up to big things. You know how people say that every day goes by and change doesn't really seem an obvious thi

Ah, the mother's life. For you ladies who work outside the home, I honestly don't know how you do it. My work -- writing, (soon teaching) and selling vintage -- ALL can be done from home. I'm lucky. Actually, luck has zero to do with it. I chose these things so I could be with my kids. But, that I CAN do this -- work from home-- is a huge blessing. Obviously, not every woman gets to choose their working life specifics, due to life's curve balls and what not. But, for the moms who do everything and work outside the house, I'm sure something's got to give. I was thinking more about this, while I pondered our living room and dining room. It looks pretty clean because my boys don't hang out much in there. I like this. When the rest of the house is a mess, I can always stand here and pretend the whole house looks this spotless. So, what has to give? 1. An entire spotless house. I guess Cheerios on the floor for many days isn't awful (or the res

Every single time I tell myself I'm going to write at my blog more.  And every single time I don't. Regardless, my sis reminded me that I had a blog, and I realized I hadn't said hello for three months; for 90 days; for roughly 2160 hours! A lot transpires in three months. And an exceptional amount has transpired in the last few days. Here's a small rundown. It's Fall! Glorious glory. Better weather, perfect season for the most perfect layered clothing, best time of year. When my neighborhood looks like this, how can I not love it more? The trees look like this: We look up and see more of this! We drink more of this (Well, I drink the coffee any time of year, but I'm not sweating while drinking it hot now. So hey!) A very unforgettable election and voting process just occurred. My dog's face ↓ pretty much depicts how I feel. About both candidates. Note the blue and red in the blanket.

See this guy? Yeah. You know who he is. Han Solo. Corellian, friend to Wookies, and Millenium Falcon Driver. Or Flyer. Or Whatever. Pilot! That's it. Pilot. Okay. Here he is. ↓ See this look on his face? It says sarcastic, sardonic, sneer-filled, snide, and know-it-all, in one fell swoop. But of course, we love that. Every. Single. Bit. Of. It. It's what makes Han Solo one of the best characters. Ever. ↓ Okay. Now. Look at this picture. The one that says, "I ain't havin' none of this." and "My way or the highway." Got a good look? Well that's pretty much the look I give to my two boys -- and all the time now. What am I talking about, you say? Well, I'm glad you asked. I've relegated to being the Han Solo in their lives (minus a few things like chest hair and a blaster or two et al, ... I don't need to elaborate). And you can learn more by reading the article I wrote here ◄on Society Letters. Enjoy. An

It's been said that life goes by faster with every year that passes. This is undeniably true. School has been out for my boys for two months,  and yet, I can't understand how they're starting school in  three weeks. Parental phenomenon, is what it is. And this humorous albeit ridiculous door knob sign that my eldest son made, this is a phenomenon all its own. ↓ I shouldn't have had to ask, but I did ... the blindness will happen if I don't knock on his door and make sure he isn't naked before I walk in. Oh good heavens. It's good to see him using his words and writing, this summer. And per usual, it's good to see his humor is still in tact. Have a great weekend friends. Oh, and little article about my Etsy start up five years ago just posted a few days ago on this sweet blog I'm a part of, called Society Letters. ◄ -HJS

You know what's uncomfortable? Me letting my work go out (the one that's been in a writing/editing/rewriting process for the last ten years) to my writing/ critique partners. It's like letting your baby -- your sweet, little child -- go to school on his first day of preschool.You are relieved, but terrified. Happy but seriously overwhelmed. There's a two-fold dimension of emotions. And I can't figure out what I want or should feel. Many of you don't know that this story has been with me since my now-high-school son was a three-year-old. It's been over ten years of trying to figure out what and how I want to tell this story. For a while, I thought it was just a concept that would never come to fruition. And that it was a crazy idea for a book. Shouldn't happen. Nah, dumb idea. But, it wasn't just that.  Okay, perhaps it is a dumb idea, but I never could give it up. AND (I'm going to speak "positive proph

My oldest son just graduated from middle school. Which means, naturally that I have a high-schooler now.  Really amazing to see how fast time flies and how much my little boy has turned into a man. Because I'm his mom, I get to tell you how handsome he is. Isn't he? Okay. Speaking of boys, just had another article printed on Mamalode and it has to do with boys! My boys. Which is perfect timing. Go here ◄ to read it. And this time? Mamalode editors left every word in tact, the way I originally wrote it. The article is titled, Better with Boys. Graduating son? Original non-edited and printed writing?  Perfect way to end the week. Have a wonderful weekend friends.

The way I start a story is rarely how I finish it. And writing is pretty much always this way. Which is a good thing. No, it's a fantastic thing. The first draft of anything should never, ever see the light of day. Or anyone's eyes. But yours of course, the first time around. Then said eyes need to watch yourself retyping a great deal of it. And this is for any writer. Pro or amateur. As Hemingway once said, and I'm going to paraphrase, "All first drafts are crap." Clearly, he didn't say "crap." That wasn't the word he used. That wasn't Hemingway. But, I digress. Here's the thing. He's right. First drafts are garbage. Always. They must be rewritten. Now, sometimes when articles and things getting printed, what you think will be printed won't always be the case. I know this first hand. I've written many things that have been edited sharply. Things I wrote, that turned out nothing like what I submitted. That's the fre

I often wonder when I'm reading, or listening to music, whether or not the work was written before or after the title. It's a common thing for writers not to name their works until after the book or article or poem is finished. Because coming up with a title before everything is done, is kind of like putting the cart before the horse. And many times, once a work is finished, days or months can pass before the editor, writer, publisher or everyone, can agree on a title. Sometimes, a title is easy. Rolls off the tongue the second the last word is finished and it totally make the book complete. But, I find that this usually isn't the case. How do you narrow down 100,000 words to just one or two? Do you go by the subject matter, or a personality of a character, or an emotional theme to the book? What story can the image of these flowers create? I don't love titles. Those are tough. But, I do love writing on prompts. What's that? When a picture or sentence or sin

For you animal lovers and writers, --and if you happen to enjoy Nicholas Sparks writing-- this was too cute a writing contest to pass up. Here's the prompt: Write about how and where you adopted your pet  and get the chance to have your story chosen by Mr. Sparks to be featured on his website, social media outlets and mailing list (and listed through Petsmart website), PLUS have the chance to have your pet make a special cameo in Spark's next story. Petsmart Writing Contest I don't know about you, but that's enough reasons for me to try this one! Click here, or the title below the picture, to get the details and entry form. Good luck and happy writing!

I have a confession to make: I didn't write this summer. Like, not at all. Seriously, those aren't the best words coming from a writer. But, you know what, I'm okay with that. Why? Because I really couldn't write. I literally had no will, or want, to write anything. Okay. Another confession: I did write a poem or two. But, they were absolute trash. Which again, I'm okay with.  No one but me will ever see those. And now that we're being honest, I have to be even more honest and say I had the most fun hanging with my kids, rather than writing.  Because, it wasn't forced and I didn't have any deadlines or crazy things I HAD to write. Nope. None of that. And I liked it. A summer off. A sabbatical, if you will. Just me, the kids, the pool and everything else in between. What is "in between" you say? Well here, let me share.  I went here (thanks Aunt Shelby!):  I did a lot of this: Wat

Despite that it's been almost five months since I've last written something here. Thing is, I'm always writing. If not here, it's a story, short story, novel, devotion or poem. And if I can squeeze in a blog post here and there, I seriously feel like I've accomplished something. I am reading too. Just read the best-seller Divergent , by Veronica Roth. I will say that it get's you thinking, this book. About reality and socialism and humanity and God.  I'm not much for dystopian fiction -- as all you have to do is turn on the news and see we're practically in that world already. Plus, I don't know if it's because Katniss already did her thing in The Hunger Games , but it took me about the first hundred pages just to get into the book. I kept thinking, I've read this before ... I've heard this before ... despite the fact that genre fiction is all about repetitive subject matter. And then. Just like that, I was hooked. I'm a litt

Disneyland, Dec 2014 I haven't forgotten about you writing/reading friends! Believe me. I was busy ... at my uh ... other house. You should see the cleaning I have to do. And the energy bill is outrageous. I had a few brief seconds to myself to snap this picture. Living in a castle is tough. But, I manage. Hope to get a few posts out, at least once a month -- right? And of course engage you in my reading/writing/ lack of writing life of mine. Happy new year!

So, I have this cute child. He's six. Tall for his age. And very much like my first born with his perfectionist tendencies. While extremely responsible, and this year has been exceptional -- him telling me what homework he has the day before it's due; that he wants to take his spelling pretests with ABSOLUTELY no help from me, etc -- he forgot something really important the second week of school. He went to school without his shoes. Okay, not the end of the world. I drove up to the "drop off" area, ready to expel my children to the world of learning, when I hear, "I don't have my shoes!" He was so in shock, so scared I would be mad at him, that all I could do was say, "Okay. Wow." No way could I be angry. No way could I tell him that he seriously ruined my morning routine, that I'd be late meeting a friend for coffee, or that I didn't care. Because I did care. And my cute child is everything to me. On the good days. And the ba

You know, I had originally titled my blog this, A Work in Progress. And would you look at that .. my life has come full circle three years later, and I'm back to naming my blog A Work in Progress. Why this name? Because, quite frankly, it fits me and what I'm doing. I  am always working on something as far as writing goes, and it not only never feels complete, but I always feel like I can do it better. Sort of carries into my personal life as well. The house we just bought? Unless I like the dated wallpaper and old kitchen cabinets, which I don't, it's a work in progress. My dog who loves the ball more than obeying? Well, she's a work in progress. Very cute, but very much a work in progress. My job as a parent? Where do I begin? That's a forever work in progress. Just when I've mastered diapering, it's onto saying "no" at the rights times (which feels like ALWAYS) and then it's onto juggling school and sports and home life a