Anny Cook's Blog, page 63

Chasing Tails

When I was young our guidance counselors encouraged us to have a life plan. We were supposed to choose goals and work toward them to achieve our life plan. I think my initial plan was to be an Archeologist. Didn't make it.

I'm sure I had quite a few other goals and plans in there. Life kept interfering with them. The guidance counselors didn't tell us what to do when that happened so I winged it. I'm pretty good at winging it. I've had a lot of practice.

My latest life plan was to be a published author. Lo, and behold! I actually accomplished that just in the nick of time. At one time, having a book published--going through the process of submitting it to an established publisher, signing a contract, dealing with edits and all that other stuff--meant something. It was an accomplishment.

And then life or karma or whatever you want to call Amazon stepped into the breach and now having a book published is just a matter of uploading a file to the Internet. Anybody can be a published author. Matter of fact, many established publishers are going out of business or changing tactics to get in on the self-publishing gig.

Many aspiring authors are so focused on getting published, they fail to take the next steps into account. As I said, anyone can be published now. But selling a book is an entirely different kettle of fish.

So now that you've caught your tail...what are you going to do with it? It's not enough to post it and sit back waiting for the money to pour in.

Let me tell you some of the things that don't work.

Posting your book info on my social media pages without permission.

Begging me to buy your book because you have bills to pay. Everyone has bills to pay.

Begging your friends to write a review for your book. (Especially if you also tell them they don't have to read it!)

In case no one's noticed, the competition is overwhelming. There are thousands of books just waiting to nab up available dollars. Thousands. So before you toss your book up there on Amazon or Smashwords or some other site, consider what your next steps will be.

Or...just get a good grip on that tail.

anny

Devastation

Every type of catastrophic event leaves devastation behind. Some allow more preparation while others are bolt-out-of-the-blue. Some leave bits and pieces of property to be recovered. Others leave nothing but ashes or bare concrete slabs.

Outsiders are grateful for lives saved. Victims wonder how they will start over. Some blame God. Others blame karma. The truth lies in our planet's day-to-day rhythms.

Of all the catastrophic events, only fire can be started with purpose. Not all fires are arson. Many are started by lightning.

Humans look for someone to blame when disaster strikes. That's a natural reaction--part of the grieving process that we go through when dealing with the terrible aftermath. It takes a while to accept that things are never going to be the same.

Some will pray. Some will cry. Others will use anger to cope. Where there are extended family or friend networks, the victims will most likely recover more quickly because they'll have someone to hold on to.

As a species, we are amazingly adaptable. If we weren't, we would never have survived so long. That doesn't mean we don't occasionally need a helping hand or a hug or an attentive ear.

If you're in a position to pitch in, please do so. In the end, we are all one.

anny

Lost marbles...

So...yesterday when I went to physical therapy they added a new exercise...picking up marbles (forty-four of them!) one at a time with my toes and dropping them in a small container. The first five or ten weren't bad.

Then they instructed me to purchase some marbles for home and do the same nifty exercise morning and evening, every day. So my quest for today was to purchase marbles.

You might think that wouldn't be much of a quest, but you would be wrong. Apparently, kids don't play marbles anymore. I will say my foot got quite a workout as I checked out store after store in my search for marbles.  

No one had marbles!

Finally, on the suggestion from several different individuals, we drove out to the next county to a Michael's craft store. And they did not have marbles. However, in the floral department, they had little glass balls in the correct size so I purchased those, breathed deep and since I was in the store...had a quick gander at what else they might have that would interest me.

Markers (a specific type I use for maps) and no, they no longer carry them so you can buy them individually. Now you have purchase a pack of twelve in the colors they choose to put together--at $20 a pack.

Brushes. Teeny, tiny brushes for my calligraphy borders. Average price, $4. Brushes purchased, eight. They're a good investment as they will last about two years if I take care of them properly.

Horehound drops for my sore throat.

And one container with lid for the marbles...$1.

Getting out of the house?

Priceless.

anny

Which way...?

The hunk and I went grocery shopping this morning. As happens quite often the older I get, the time came when I needed to dash off to the ladies room. Naturally, I headed toward the back of the store in search of the restrooms.

Naturally, they weren't located back there in this particular store. No...in this store they were in the front!

Here's my question: Why isn't there a standard location for restrooms in stores? Why??? And why aren't there BIG signs with the directions?

Consider the most likely people to patronize the public restroom...parents with small incontinent children, old people with touchy bladders, and individuals with upset bellies. All those people need speedy access to the restrooms! And yet, yet, I say, each store does it's best to hide the bathrooms! Yes, they do!

By the time you finally track down the exact location, it might even be too late!

And another thing! Why do stores routinely move all their merchandise to different locations so you can't find what you need? And WHY would they locate Ovaltine in the breakfast cereals instead of with the other products used to make chocolate milk? Why???

Why are milk and eggs always located at the back of the store? Why are there no prices on the produce and no handy-dandy clerk around to ask about it? Where do they all go, anyway? Ah-hah! I know. They're in the disappearing rest rooms!

anny

Fire and Flood

Summer is here. We are once again in the season of Fire and Floods.

In the western mountains, huge fires gobble up acres and acres of forests along with homes and towns.

In the eastern gulf, tropical storms dump rain by the foot on coastal communities, spin off tornadoes and wash away beaches.

In the midwest and south, drought stalks the land, killing trees, cattle, and wildlife. 

This is summer in the U.S. of A. The only variables are the exact locations where these events will strike and the people they will affect. For those who believe it cannot happen to them--grab a dose of reality.

Be prepared. Now. While you have the time to think about the things you would need to have with you if you must evacuate.

And if you have a couple spare dollars, donate to the charity of your choice. Those folks under the gun will need the help.

anny

Shadows on Stone

“What the hell?”

Russet’s head came up. “What?”

“Where did that come from?” Max pointed at the black clouds billowing on the horizon ahead of them. “The radar doesn’t indicate anything out there.”

“That’s a huge storm out there. How can the radar not see it?”

“Gather everything in the cockpit, and stuff it down under the back seats next to the grocery boxes.” He caught her before she chucked the pillow back there, stopping her with a firm grip on her arm. Hold on to that. If we go down, you’ll have it to cushion your head.”

“Well, that made me feel better.”

“That was my goal. Keep your eyes peeled for a possible place for us to put down.”
“Where the heck are we?”

“About an hour from our next refueling stop. And that’s on the other side of the storm.”

He saw her point to an enormous swirling vortex in the clouds. “What the hell is that?” she yelled. “Is that a tornado?”

“I don’t know!” Max bellowed as he fought to keep the plane airborne above the high Adirondack peaks while the black storm clouds bubbled and churned ominously all around them. From the corner of his eye, he saw Russet double-check her seatbelt harness. “Good idea.”

“There’s no way to fly around the storm?”

“We were. The storm is coming to us.” Max scowled as he studied the jagged terrain below. The crazy splotches of brilliant oranges and golds blanketing the steep mountains on the New York-Vermont border were nearly obscured by thick cloudy mist. Lightning flashed all around them, dancing frenziedly on the peaks as thunder rolled and boomed, shaking the sturdy Skyvan.

They were in trouble. Deep trouble. Alarmed and pissed off, he double-checked the weather forecast. Radar wasn’t indicating storms anywhere within a couple hundred miles. Well, they sure as hell were in the middle of a storm with a capital S. He desperately searched the steep mountainsides for a reasonably level place to set the plane down.

With shocking speed, the black clouds swirled around the plane, sucking it into the weird formation. As they flew through it, the engines made odd, little coughing noises. In the flickering light, they shot free of the cloud. He spied a narrow valley with a long meadow and drifted down for another look. With a fatalistic mental shrug, he decided it would have to do and lined up for his approach. “We’re going down!”

A resounding roar accompanied a brilliant flash of light. Seconds before his emergency touchdown, the engines went silent with an ominous plink.

And stuff happens...

Want to know more? Just click on the bookcover!

anny 

Loaf of Bread, Jug of Wine

Two weeks ago, I chose to make a radical change in my life. In the foreseeable future, I will not eat or drink anything (but water) in my office. If I want a cup of coffee, it's consumed at the dining room table. Breakfast? Dining room table. Lunch or dinner? Dining room table.

Now you might say, "So what?"

Perhaps, you've always done it that way, so it wouldn't be any big deal to you. I, on the other hand, have spent much of my life eating someplace other than the table.

Breakfast--and that's a very loose definition--was stuffed in my mouth while I drove to work. Lunch was picked at while I answered phone calls and typed at work. And dinner was a zoned out space while I watched a forgettable television program.

When I retired and starting my writing career, I continued on with the same regimen, with small changes such as reading Facebook or e-mail, but really, other than a change of venue from the car to the office, what's the difference? So as I sat with my prescription bottle in my hand, unsure of whether I'd actually taken my meds while distracted by commenting on someone's post, or maybe not...and really, my meds are not the type you can take twice... Yes, well, I came to the conclusion changes were in order.

The final straw was when I discovered I had missed enough of my diabetes meds to make up an entire ninety day supply. That certainly got my attention!

My new regimen is simple. Every meal, every snack, every cup of coffee, tea, or soda (though I must add I quit drinking soda!), every break is spent at the dining room table, with no television, no computer, no telephone, no distractions.

A couple interesting things came out of this. A) I discovered the taste of food. Amazing. Who knew food had such varied flavors and textures? So that's why restaurant food always tasted so good. Huh. When you pay attention to what you're eating, you actually appreciate it. Or not. A couple things I eliminated from my menu...

And B) I discovered a certain impatience when I had to stop what I was doing, go to another room, consume whatever, and then return to my occupation. Drinking water is easier. I also consumed more water, even though I really don't like water! So what does that say about the other things I might have consumed while brain dead at the computer?

And C) I stood up. And moved around. Trotting back and forth to the kitchen, dining room, kitchen, and back to the office meant I wasn't sitting on my duff for unending hours--something that is terribly dangerous and can cause blood clots.

Side benefits: I drink less coffee. I get up once in a while. I drink more water.

Here's my challenge. For the next two full days, don't consume anything except at the table (or for those of you who like to drink morning coffee on your deck...okay). No snacking while reading, watching television, playing with your computer, or talking on the phone. This isn't a diet issue. It's a taste issue.

I'm curious. Report back. How'd it go?

anny

Belly Laughs

I don't remember the last time I laughed, really laughed from deep in the belly until tears rolled down my face. Do you?

I believe we're missing something. We smile. We might giggle (females) or chuckle (males) but we don't roar with laughter anymore. Is it because we don't have anything to laugh about? Or is it because nothing is funny?

I remember watching old Disney movies--no, not the cartoons--but their live action movies. With Six You Get Eggroll, The North Avenue Irregulars, Hot Lead, Cold Feet, Candleshoe, The Apple Dumpling Gang... And I remember laughing. Laughing out loud until I cried.

Do we laugh at anything anymore?

Not too long ago, I was reading a book while waiting at a restaurant. It was a scene where a single guy was babysitting three little boys. The situation wasn't necessarily so funny, but the writer's gift for description was hilarious. I was laughing, trying to keep quiet and not make a spectacle of myself. A woman at the next table asked what I was reading--because she wanted to read something that would make her laugh.

Another author and I were talking. She said, "People won't buy humorous stories." Why not? In this day and age, don't we need laughter more than ever?

What do you think?

anny

Casual Friday

I wonder how casual Friday came about? How casual is casual? Do you suppose a sports bra and undies is too casual for home?

What if we had Casual Monday, instead?

anny

Resonates

Reviews. I just haven't figured out why anyone would worry about them. Human reaction to every form of creative endeavor is so visceral, so personal, I cannot understand our fascination with the reviews submitted by total strangers.

Every possible artistic creation resonates differently by the individual. One person looks at a painting and loves it. The next is left totally cold by the artist's vision. Neither is wrong.

Music, art, the written word, movies and plays, all resonate for humans at different levels. Reviews are simply opinions stated by individuals. Some are stated more publicly than others, but that doesn't add value to the opinion.

Value can only be conferred by me. If I trust another person's judgment, then I give it extra weight and respect. How can I possibly confer value on an opinion offered by someone unknown to me?

Recently, I read a list of reviews for a book I particularly enjoyed--so much so that I've read it several times. The reviews ranged from hated it, did not finish to loved it, this is on my keeper shelf to everything in between.

When I finished the last post, I finally accepted the truth about reviews. Each one is an opinion--valid, but of no particular value--unless I allow it to have value. As my friend, Amarinda Jones, observes, "Everyone has an opinion."

anny