Anny Cook's Blog, page 80

Commando!

I'm so tired of the great underwear debate. What I choose to wear under my street clothes is nobody's business but mine. Nope, not even the house hunk has a say in what I wear.

That's something that's always puzzled me. Why the heck would I wear something no one sees but me that was uncomfortable? Evidently, there are a lot of women who agree with me. See the article HERE about the 2010 Undie awards. The granny panty won.

Women (and even some men) are passionate about their underwear choices. While I understand the idea of undies designed for seduction, I confess I've never worn specific underwear for that purpose. In my experience, if you want to seduce your man, you'll have more success if you just take the underwear off. Men are pretty simple biological beings. Naked women = their full attention.

Having said that, I have to say I do not understand the phenomenon of going commando--for men or women. As any adult male or female knows...our bodies are designed to prepare us for the sexual activities later in the evening. An  entire industry of panty liners and sprays is supported by our desire to deal with this biological preparation. Why on earth would you go naked, then?

I know, I know. Personal choice. With the emphasis on choice. I understand the fantasy behind it. You're all dressed up to go someplace special. You whisper in the hunk's ear just before you arrive. "No panties." And he's supposed to go crazy with desire.

Sigh. Mine would just look at me and ask why the heck I would do something stupid like that. See paragraph three. In his opinion, underwear is something you take off to get to the main event.

I suspect the underwear manufacturers have cleverly used the idea of sex to enhance their sales. Unfortunately, the conclusion we can draw from the products they offer is this--no one over a size sixteen or a 36B has sex. If you're on the zaftig side, you're stuck with incredibly ugly underwear. Also uncomfortable underwear. Ugly, uncomfortable white or beige underwear.

Please tell me...what is the average size of women in the USA? Us fluffy types are the majority. Yes we are. So why can't we find comfortable underwear?

Maybe we should all go commando. Now that would not be a pretty sight, would it? And we'll get protest t-shirts...Oh my, can't you see it?

anny

Monday, Monday

I haven't decided why Monday has such a bad rap. Personally, I think Tuesday is much worse. On Monday, you're still a little rested from the weekend. By Tuesday, you're tired and you know you have the entire rest of the week to face. Ugh.

In our household we seem to have everything scheduled on Tuesday. Laundry. Doctor Appointments. Car work. Grocery shopping. Why?

Mostly, it's because we say, "We don't want to be out in the hustle and bustle on Monday because everyone else will be out. We'll wait until Tuesday." Bad choice.

Maybe we should wait until Wednesday...

anny

I Know...

Things I know...

Always carry tissues with you when using a public restroom. There's nothing worse that running out of toilet tissue.

Don't drink coffee after noon. It gives you heartburn, restless legs syndrome, and keeps you awake.

Never try to change another person's mind. It makes them cranky and they will dig in their heels, clinging to their own opinion.

When they do change their mind, don't say "I told you so."

When the heat index is above a hundred, the air quality is orange, and the pollen count is high, if you have asthma, you should stay inside. Unless of course, you don't need to breathe.

No one ever melted from going out in the rain, but you can get very wet and cold.

Some people should not have kids, cats, dogs, guinea pigs or rabbits. Maybe they shouldn't even have snakes or lizards. Pet rocks were made especially with these people in mind.

Turning on Facebook first thing in the morning is a guarantee that no work will be accomplished until noon.

Ditto twitter.

The most beautiful places on Earth are the least accessible to humans. That's why they're the most beautiful places on Earth.

There is a direct correlation between distance from home and the stupidity of a tourist. However, with the internet, the tourist should understand that distance is non-existent.

Never leave home looking less than picture perfect--especially if you are going to Wal-Mart.

You can never have too many beads, balls of yarn, sticky notes, pens, or pads of paper. Extra scissors, rulers, and markers are optional.

Never leave home without a book...or two. Taking a digital reader is even better.

Never leave home without paper, pens, tissues, your asthma inhaler, your brush, spare string, Swiss Army knife and duct tape. I can guarantee you'll need it if you forget it.

anny

Apocalypse World

Post apocalypse... I've been working on a story, a post apocalypse-after the plague story. It's hard to decide what will be around after the apocalypse. Or rather, it's hard to convey that without spending a lot of time saying, "That's not available anymore." Well...not actually using those words.

But if there's no one to run the factories, no one to keep the water, power, refineries running, and no one to drive the food/supplies to the stores... Then, what will the world be like? I figure it will pretty much resemble early colonial America except we no longer have the necessary skills to survive.

Seriously. How many people know how to successfully garden--without running down to the Lowes or Home Depot? And how many people know they need to use heritage seeds because the other kind (which is almost the only kind sold in the stores) won't yield plants you can save the seeds for the next year? We've moved so far from producing our own food most people would starve.

I read an entry on a comment line about hunting..."These people should get their food at the store like everyone else instead of killing animals for food." Um, where do you suppose this individual thinks the meat at the grocery store comes from? Factories? Hmmmm. Maybe they aren't far wrong.

When I was growing up, my mother sewed all my clothes. Now there are far fewer women skilled at sewing--especially with needle and thread. Many people throw clothing out, rather than repair it.

And food preservation was another skill my mother and grandmother had. Every summer and fall, our kitchen was redolent with the scents from canning the fruits and veggies from the garden. Does anyone can anymore? I bet the percentage is very, very small.

So many skills have been lost. I suspect the most popular post-apocalypse people will be hunters and historical re-enactors, with a dash of geeks tossed in there. The geeks that know something about solar power might be especially popular.

What will that post-apocalyptic world be like? I don't know. Here are a few ways for even the least survival minded individual to prepare.

1) Visit your bookstore. Buy a couple well-rounded books on survival, hunting, edible plants, and old-timey crafts such as canning, sewing, etc. Read the books. Heck, even spend some time trying out stuff. Acquire some skills. Remember, the internet would likely not be around.

2) Take a first aid course. Know how to take care of yourself and others around you.

3) Observe the world around you. Look at your space. What could you use in a post-apocalyptic world? What would be mere trash? How important will that microwave or television or computer be when there's no power?

4) Look at your personal space from a self-defense perspective. What would you need to do to make it safe? I read one article that speculated it would only take a loss of one quarter of the population to bring everything to a halt...government, police, fire, economy. Think about what you would do.

I don't advocate packing up and going to the woods in case a disaster might come along. I do advocate spending a little time considering the possibility. And maybe, just maybe thinking about how to survive.

After all...who knows what tomorrow will bring?

anny

Up, Up and Away!

Some dreams require compromise. Or taking an alternate route. Many years ago when I was in my twenties, I wanted to be a writer. At the time I had four children, worked nights at McDonalds, went to school full-time, and was stone cold broke.

Setting aside such issues as time and privacy to write, I also didn't have the money for such essentials as paper, typewriter ribbons and postage. So the dream waited on the back burner while I dealt with life.

Time passed. My twenties turned into my thirties. We moved two thousand miles to the other side of the country and were poorer for it. I worked nights in a warehouse so the family could eat. We acquired a Commodore computer and I learned how to use DOS so I could write during the day.

In my late thirties, the warehouse shut down and moved to Tennessee, leaving me unemployed. Instead, I went to school to learn how to be an Administrative Assistant and I found a new job. Went back to college. And struggled to rear four teenagers while the house hunk worked six hours away, only making it home every three or four weekends.

And I scribbled in between work, job, and full-time school, finally graduating in my forties. By then, some of my children were adults. One married and had a child...and promptly moved back home. And life went on.

When I reached my fifties, I had a house full of children, grandchildren, dogs, cats...well, certainly no quiet there. And not much money. You might say I was just too darn tired to write.

And then the house hunk was transferred again--just after we paid off our mortgage. We moved to a new state as empty nesters and tried to adjust. For six months I tried to figure out what I was supposed to be doing with all my free time. At my son's suggestion (actually it was more of a plea) I sat down at my brand new computer and began to write the story that had rumbled around in my head for thirty years.

When I finished, it was two hundred thousand plus words. I loved it. That's when I discovered it was about a hundred and fifty thousand words too long. And after reading the submission guidelines for several small publishers, several big publishers, several medium publishers, I discovered my story had a bunch of other issues.

The internet was fairly new, but I researched, oh yes, I did. I spent hours analyzing what I needed to do to prepare my fabulous book for submission. I spent more weeks and months, cannibalizing my book to produce a story that would meet the guidelines.

I didn't know any other writers. I didn't actually know anyone who read. But I read articles about writing and re-did my story until I couldn't think of anything else to do to it.

Then came the day when I decided I wasn't getting any younger and I submitted it to a publisher. I researched my best options, settled on an e-publisher that was the top of the heap, and blithely sent my story off. One author asked why I sent it to the publisher with the toughest guidelines. In my naivete, I thought why not? Wasn't my story fabulous? Hadn't I been writing for thirty years?

So off it went.

About six weeks later, I received an e-mail asking me to send the complete manuscript. And about six weeks after that, I was offered a contract for Dancer's Delight. I was on my way to completing my dream.

As I look back on it now, I view my absolute self-confidence with disbelief. Perhaps that is what saved me that first year as a published author. The longer I am in this game, the less confidence I have. I'm more aware of my short-comings as a writer.

Yet, I wouldn't change anything. I still hone my writing skills, still work to improve my stories, still try to learn from every editing experience and every review. My dream isn't exactly how I thought it would be. Publishing has changed so radically, I suspect that dream is long dead and gone.

Readers, real people, total strangers buy my books and read them. And they write letters to me. Me! I still find that amazing! As I work on book twenty one, I shake my head. My dream came true.

I took the long way around, but I made it.

anny 

Ephemeral

Ephemeral~~lasting a very short time; short-lived

If one enduring observation can be made in the aftermath of the tornadoes and floods, it's this--in the best of circumstances possessions are ephemeral. Survival is what counts.

I know some would ask what right I have to say that when I'm sitting here comfortable in my home. But I've been there. I pretty much lost everything I owned and my mother. If I had the power to change things, I would have gladly given it all up to have my mother back.

That's not the way things work. We don't get choices like that in life. Instead, we face an insurmountable task urged on only because of those around us who did survive the disaster. They're the ones who keep us going.

As I watched the videos from the Oklahoma tornadoes, one elderly woman looked around at the devastation and smiled. Then she said, "We survived. Somehow we survived."

In my lifetime I have faced certain death--and survived. The shock and surprise are so overwhelming you just don't know how to deal with it. In that crystalline instant when you realize you did not die, your life changes forever. You are never the same. In that split second you know deep inside what really matters is life.

My heart goes out to the survivors in these disasters. There is grief and loss and heartache there. But the human spirit just won't give up. Somehow we demonstrate the very best of who we are in the midst of chaos and loss.

anny 

In the Writing Cave...

Back tomorrow...

anny

Made up Words

One of my author friends, Amarinda, has a word she uses a lot... pukeable. No, it's not in a dictionary, but I expect it will be some day. That's how we add new words to our language. We make them up and then use them--frequently. Other people pick up on them and start to use them, too. And before you know it, it's a valid word.

In the course of writing my books, I've made up a lot of words--about three hundred, so far. No doubt there will be many, many more. But compared to Shakespeare, I'm a mere piker. He added 1700 words to the English language. Think about a world without such words as bloody, critical, sanctimonious, critical, suspicious, radiance, and amazement. Why, we would have to make them up!

Most people know he's the source of such phrases as to thine own self be true and neither a borrower nor a lender be, but how about eat out of house and home? Or green-eyed monster, foregone conclusion, and fair play?

Children are especially good at making up words until we insist they use the "correct" word. Then they rebel as teens by using their own language--a language that often ends up adding words to our vocabulary!

In my Mystic Valley series there are a lot of new words--so many there is a glossary at the beginning of the book--though readers tell me they never need to use it. My favorite word from the glossary? Cisme (pronounced kiss-me) ~~female genitalia. Personally, I like it much better than the available alternatives.

What are some of your favorite made up words? Who is the source? And why do you like them?

anny

Armageddon

I grew up in a Southern Baptist home. Cut my teeth on fiery sermons about the Rapture and Armageddon. You might say this current fury over the Rapture should be right up my alley. You might say that, but don't.

I'm one of those people who actually has read the Bible. More than once. In Matthew 24:36 it says, "But of that day and hour knows no man, no, not the angels of heaven, but my Father only." Now, to me that means no one knows... including the gentleman causing all the media hoopla.


I believe it's up to each one of us to decide what sort of personal faith we live by. Every time there's a big to-do in the world over religion, it nearly always is because some charismatic individual has attracted a lot of people who would rather have someone to tell them what to do than decide for themselves. That's sad. Many of them end up entrusting their lives, their families, even their savings to charlatans. 


Like I said, what people believe is up to them. But I was reared to be more respectful than folks seem to be now days. I never make fun of someone's faith. I expect people to treat my beliefs with respect, also. I'm deeply saddened at the jeering and parties planned and the backlash against those Christians who quietly live their faith without fanfare and media coverage.


Not all Christians are judgmental and intolerant, any more than all Muslims are terrorists or all Jews are greedy or all Pagans worship the devil. Stereotypes are hurtful. Such stereotypes are more damaging than outright violence because they're so insidious and pervasive in our society.

Here's what I'm asking for: a little respect. Consider exactly who you're ridiculing before the laughter starts. Who's your target? One person or an entire group? And how will you feel when you're a part of the target group? 


R-E-S-P-E-C-T. That's what I want.


anny

Rewrite, rewrite...

Anny's definition of rewrites: Starting the book over. Or major revisions of more than six consecutive pages.

I don't often rewrite once I've started a book, but I have done so a couple times. I'm what's known as a clean writer (no, get your mind out of the gutter) because I tidy up my work as I go. I tend to be a bit OCD about spelling errors, punctuation, and the odd missing word.

That's not to say there aren't huge plot holes big enough to drive a trailer through. Plot holes might require major revisions so I try to avoid them if at all possible.

And continuity issues (heroine is wearing skirt at beginning of scene in restaurant, but complains about how tight her jeans are in same scene) are relatively rare for me. I am capable of holding a mass of unrelated details in my brain while writing. Just don't ask me to remember where I put my keys or watch.

Now where was I going with this thought...oh, yeah. Rewrites. I confess I just don't get the idea of rewrites--in general. I'm not talking about gentle tweaks here and there. (See definition above.) It's the massive revisions some authors mention/complain about. Working on fifth round rewrites...should be done with this round in three weeks.


No. At that point the book would be deleted, merely a bad memory. I avoid that by invoking time. If the story is not working, I set it aside and work on something else. Hence the usual three or four works in progress I have running. When one isn't working, it goes on the back burner for two or three weeks (or in one case, two years). When I get to it again, I'm able to read it with a fresh eye and decide what the problem is.

In the meantime, I've maintained productivity by working on something else while the old brain has simmered a raft of possible ideas. I find as I get older, it takes longer for full-fledged ideas to bubble to the top.

I think the thing that puzzles me the most is the sheer futility of working, working, working on a story that isn't cooperating! Why? Why not set it aside and put all that effort into something productive?

Several authors have declared they can't possibly work on more than one story at a time. Okay. My style is not for everyone. But if that one story is not working, why not move on? I suppose I just feel my time is too limited to spend it working on a story that's not going anywhere.

What about you? What's your working style--and why?

anny