Summer 2015

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 again in three weeks.

A parental phenomenon is what it is.

And this humorous, albeit ridiculous, door knob sign that my eldest son made, 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.

This summer, it's good to see him using his words and writing. And per usual, it's good to see his humor is still intact.

Have a great weekend friends.

Oh, and a 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

Writing │ Things Always Turn Out Differently

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 free right of any editor. I get it.

But, there was an article I just had printed via Mamalode (great magazine) that did this to me. Again. And in this case, it's title of the piece. The title has no relevance to what they printed because they omitted the last few paragraphs. Paragraphs that really I thought, in my humble view, should've stayed in there.

Oh well. What's done is done. The title is like the most ridiculous title now that there is no mention of it in the article. But, that's not my problem. Not my issue to debate either. Apparently, they thought it was fine enough to leave that part -- only the gist of the entire thing --out of the story. (You can read my original post here ◄)

Anyway, here it is. Click here to read, my rewritten blog post from a few years ago, called Jazz Music at Night. ◄ I still like how it turned out ... even if it's distorted, non-sequitur (well, kind of) and missing stuff.

Sounds a great deal like me. 

Mamalode Magazine │ Poetry

A friend of mine recently told me about a parenting magazine called Mamalode.  

And after checking them out, I've come to the conclusion that Mamalode is a darn cool magazine. They have both an online and print magazine, dealing with mom life, parenting and everything that falls in between those two categories.Which is great for me. Because that's my life! The photography in the print version is incredible.

 Apparently, Mamalode is quite well known. The blogger and creator of BlogHer, Lisa Stone, calls Mamalode "The best parenting magazine out there." That's saying something coming from a parent and writer, herself.

My friend suggested I start submitting to them, as I needed fresh markets to submit material. I felt like I was in a writing rut. So, I submitted a poem. They took it and it was online last week. It's rather appropriate they printed this first, considering April is poetry month.

The poem is called Harvesting the Oranges before Spring Growth. ◄

And they just recently took another article of mine, which happened to be a blog post I wrote here a couple of years ago. I rewrote it and they liked it, too. Weird.

Maybe there is a future for me in writing after all ... maybe.
And maybe not. 

Working Title │ The Chicken or the Egg

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 single word can evoke an entire story. I think that's remarkable. It shows what a marvel the imagination is and how capable we are of creating something out of practically nothing and making it a work of art. Like, a really good work of art.

For example, as I'm writing this, I'm listening to Wynton Marsalis. Amazing jazz player. The title of the song is called Skylark. Did the title come after writing the song? Or did the title come first, and his inspiration take over after that? A lot of jazz music is word-less. So coming up with what the musician thinks the music is telling him, or what he is telling the music, is to me a reflection of the musician himself. I don't particularly think of a skylark when this song is playing. But ... now that Marsalis mentions it --now that that is the working title --it does have a natural, melodic, bird-like syncopation to it. Skylark is a dang good title!

So ... was the title a prompt for him? Had he seen a skylark and decided to write music?

It's the same with painting or drawing. Can a single word evoke a masterpiece?  I think it can. I think a single word, picture --or even a person-- can create an entire world. Because that's the beauty of our imagination.

I'm reading a lot of Emily Dickinson right now. I love her. She is simple (yet so complex- try figuring out what she is trying to say --you can't-- and you've mastered her) and her stanzas are short and sweet. Just my type. But talk about forgetting to title your work! Most of her poems are titled based on the first line of each poem. It was far harder for her to come up with titles than the poems themselves.

Here's an example of a work from me-- a short sweet, love poem. Very Dickinson-esque. Not great. Just an example:

You startle me at random,
I see you and have to pause.
Although it wasn’t really you, (I know)
But a memory rising fast.

I force myself to return (to task,)

We were something, long ago,
Only try telling that to my memory,
Who won’t let me let you go.

Okay. My first inclination is to title it Startle. Because, that is how it starts and it's what evokes the rest of the two verses. But, after more thought, I could call it Memories. Because that really is what the poem is all about. But is it? The poem, to me, is about the heart; the heart breaking, hurting, wanting the past but not being able to have it. I'd prefer to call it, When a Heart Breaks, precisely because none of those words make an appearance in the poem at all.

So, a title is just a title. And yet, a title can make the work that much better if the work of art is titled correctly.

My two cents ...

Reading │ Writing

Well hey! Just wanted to say a quick hello. I'm still here.

No excuses for not blogging.

However, I'm going to give you excuses anyway.

Just went here for Winter Break with my boys.

Their first trip to Hawaii.

Spent a lot of time looking up at this while lounging on the beach or at the pool.

 Spent an equal amount of time trying to get them to let me take pics of them.

Took a ridiculous amount of fun selfies with my oldest. (Very cherish-able.)

Came home to celebrate this boy's birthday (again).

Proceeded to eat all of this by myself.

Took this girl for many runs, even though I was the one that needed to run.

Now, I'm doing (still) a lot of this.

But wishing I was doing this.

I'm getting back into the writing groove guys. I promise.

Hope to share some of it in the near future.

Aloha...

Winter Reading

This picture is pretty much what happens in the winter at my house. At least for me, anyway. As the weather gets cooler, outdoor activities i.e. sitting by the pool or swimming, disappear (Yes, even here in California) and a hibernation, if you will, takes over me.

I want blankets, slippers, fireplaces, and something warm to drink all next to my stack of books.

It is a stack. It's hard for me to focus on one book at a time for too long, since I have so much going on. So, a chapter here and there throughout the day works well. The real problem is me wanting to read so many different books at once.

This picture is a little take of said problem, on the side table of my bed.

And it doesn't even include the one or two or three books I'm reading on my tablet or phone PLUS the qeue of books that will be coming in to read, or that I'm going to be reading once I finished the affore mentioned.

This isn't a problem to complain about. Good books are so much fun. And if you're not a reader, well, this too can change, my friend. This too can change.

So happy reading my fine Fall/Winter hibernating friends. Happy reading ...

Four Trips + A pair of Shoes = Jazz Music on the Way Home

So, I have this cute child. He's six. Tall for his age. And very much like my firstborn 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 bad days.

What did I do? I walked him to his class in his stocking feet and went home to get his shoes.

Normally, this event really wouldn't have been so bad. But, as the "schedule gods" had worked out for me in advance, today was the day that I was already making three trips to and from home and school.

This little jaunt would make it a fourth.

I texted my friend that I would be a little bit late for coffee and began the drive home.

I so wanted to be angry. But, I literally couldn't. Like, I couldn't even muster up the frustration. There was nothing. I think I felt this way partly because I knew it would be fruitless. I mean, the kid is shoeless. And partly because ... did I have any control, to begin with? By ranting and raving, I would be admitting that I thought I had control of my little day.

Clearly, I had none. God had it. And He made this concept known to me with my cute child forgetting to slip on his shoes.

Where am I going with this? Only to say that I had to think of the good. I had to think of the benefit of making a fourth trip, though I was just beginning my second for the day. How could a bad thing be good? I would make a list on this little trip.

1. I would be able to say hello again to my sleepy dog. She loved extra hellos. Okay. Good. Dog is taken care of. Check.

2. I would be able to get my cell phone. Yes, I had left my lifeline at home, lying on the counter, charging. Bonus. I wasn't alone! I'd be able to check my mail a million more times than I thought I would, seeing that I wouldn't be without it after all. Check.

3. Well, I was having a hard time with number three. Until I thought ahead. My fourth trip of the day would be in the evening, going from home to school for Back to School Night and home again. While that was always a fun trip, meeting his teacher and all, the best part would be the jazz music on the classical music station that night. Check.

This is my cute child, Caleb.

I love Jazz. I don't know much really, but I do know that there are some real musicians in that genre. And because I don't have "satellite radio" in my car, I had to wait, as we once all had to do. I had to wait for Jazz until after 8:00 pm when the classical music station turned to Jazz.

(No, we don't have a jazz station in Sacramento.)

So, the end of my day would be steeped in jazz, driving home to see my cute kids.

The thought of that made my little trip home like an appetizer. And the dessert of jazz music in the evening would make everything okay.

And my cute child would have his shoes ... just like everyone else.