Ryshia Kennie's Blog, page 39
January 26, 2011
A Blast from the Past
I love books. I'm surrounded by them and I write them. Yet, my first tool of research is the Internet. Especially when it comes to answers regarding geography. Any mapping I need to do is done online.
Today I was searching for a river - it wasn't a major plot point but it's always good to know where your villain is heading and via which body of water. Now having actually seen the river in question didn't seem to help - I was drawing blanks on the name. Google search brought up a quarter of a million results. You'd think I'd find the answer there but if any search could have been more conflicted it was this one.
No, I don't want to raft down a river heading south into an elephant training camp, thank you very much. No, I wasn't interested in the 2006 dam project or in which river borders Thailand and Myanmar. And no, I wasn't interested in a stranger's travelogue by motorcycle or his view on the long necked women of Northern Thailand. As interesting as all that seemed, I'm on a time line.
Finally, I admitted defeat and decided a trip to the library was in order. And that's when my mother-in-law came up with the answer. Let's back this up, my MIL is the least electronically connected person I know. She barely uses her television and she definitely doesn't own a computer. I've teased her about this whenever a question arises for which she has no answer. "You know if you had a computer you could google that." She always laughs and brushes it off.
Today, in a phone call she asked what I was doing? I explained my recent frustration to which she replied, "If I had my Dent's Atlas handy I'd look it up for you."
Atlas - The answer was slapped in front of me in her innocent reply. In my electronic fervor I'd forgotten that there was a book I hadn't touched in years thanks to the subtle sweep of Internet into my life. The atlas had my answer and didn't need a quarter of a million hits or a trip to the library to do it. Five minutes later I was adding the name of one elusive river into my story and calling it good.
Technology might be the first option but it's not always the best. Looks like I'll be keeping that atlas, at least for another year or two. There's something to be said about the stories and tools of the past.
Ryshia
www.ryshiakennie.com
"The dirtiest book of all is the expurgated book." - Walt Whitman
Today I was searching for a river - it wasn't a major plot point but it's always good to know where your villain is heading and via which body of water. Now having actually seen the river in question didn't seem to help - I was drawing blanks on the name. Google search brought up a quarter of a million results. You'd think I'd find the answer there but if any search could have been more conflicted it was this one. No, I don't want to raft down a river heading south into an elephant training camp, thank you very much. No, I wasn't interested in the 2006 dam project or in which river borders Thailand and Myanmar. And no, I wasn't interested in a stranger's travelogue by motorcycle or his view on the long necked women of Northern Thailand. As interesting as all that seemed, I'm on a time line.
Finally, I admitted defeat and decided a trip to the library was in order. And that's when my mother-in-law came up with the answer. Let's back this up, my MIL is the least electronically connected person I know. She barely uses her television and she definitely doesn't own a computer. I've teased her about this whenever a question arises for which she has no answer. "You know if you had a computer you could google that." She always laughs and brushes it off.
Today, in a phone call she asked what I was doing? I explained my recent frustration to which she replied, "If I had my Dent's Atlas handy I'd look it up for you."Atlas - The answer was slapped in front of me in her innocent reply. In my electronic fervor I'd forgotten that there was a book I hadn't touched in years thanks to the subtle sweep of Internet into my life. The atlas had my answer and didn't need a quarter of a million hits or a trip to the library to do it. Five minutes later I was adding the name of one elusive river into my story and calling it good.
Technology might be the first option but it's not always the best. Looks like I'll be keeping that atlas, at least for another year or two. There's something to be said about the stories and tools of the past.
Ryshia
www.ryshiakennie.com
"The dirtiest book of all is the expurgated book." - Walt Whitman
January 19, 2011
There Is No Second Prize
What do you do? It's a common question for someone to ask what your work is. In a way it's how western society defines people, how we box and package them. Let me say right now that it's one that has always annoyed me. I'm so much more than what I do.
But that's not reality so onward to the point. Why is it so hard to say I am a writer?
The question arose quite literally on a plane ride. When a discussion with a complete stranger spiraled into a question regarding employment. I ventured to say that I was a writer. It was a trial balloon and led to a discussion of my two published novels. But what made the whole conversation thought provoking, at least for me, was when she asked me if I could make a living at it.
What kind of question is that? Obviously you can - check out the Bestseller List, a living and a darn fine one at that. Can everyone make that kind of living? Probably not. Was the question, am I? Now that's getting personal.
Of course there's a reason for everything and her question soon led to her reasoning, some day she was going to write a book. Not now, tomorrow or even next week, just some day. Like writing a book was like walking to the local store - barring a disability of some kind anyone could do it. I chugged back any snide comments along with an initial reaction to wrap one of my bookmarks around her well-meaning neck. But I'm nicer than that, after all I write romance. I smile and give her a bookmark. Better than that I encourage her in her future, and now non-existent career. Of course any one can do it, it's just a matter of setting pen to paper. I think I may have ground a filling right off my tooth on landing but that's another story.
So what does it take to be a writer? I think if you're tripping over the dog and scalding yourself with coffee in the early morning hours trying to get one more page completed before the world wakes up and demands attention; if you're weeping over the latest rejection letter or if you're holding your royalty cheque in your hand, no matter how tiny - you're a player who's earned the title, Writer. Your writing career is as real as your commitment to it, whether that career functions as one job or two. Now why is it so darn hard to say it? Isn't that kind of like asking whether your reflection in the mirror is real or fake? Of course your mirror image is real, just as real as the fact that you write. Eureka - writer!
To get branded as a writer it means writing in the midst of two "wonderful" things - rejection and waiting in no particular order. Rejection, even though there's been lots of good stuff these last few years including publication, writing that word makes me want to snarl and spit. Fortunately, my hubbie has learned to ignore me and the dog has taken my reaction to be a sign to bring out one of his larger stuffed animals and try to have his way with it. Let's not even go into what this might mean.
But I'm off course - If you want to read more of all the bad stuff that makes a "real" writer I have the blog for you. Just remember that this particular visit will dump you right out of the Disneyland lingo here and into the real world with a bang that may hurt some of your sensibilities - be brave, venture forth to Terribleminds.
Time to get real, there is no second prize - do they pay you for what you love best? And if not, why not?
Ryshia
www.ryshiakennie.com
But that's not reality so onward to the point. Why is it so hard to say I am a writer?
The question arose quite literally on a plane ride. When a discussion with a complete stranger spiraled into a question regarding employment. I ventured to say that I was a writer. It was a trial balloon and led to a discussion of my two published novels. But what made the whole conversation thought provoking, at least for me, was when she asked me if I could make a living at it.What kind of question is that? Obviously you can - check out the Bestseller List, a living and a darn fine one at that. Can everyone make that kind of living? Probably not. Was the question, am I? Now that's getting personal.
Of course there's a reason for everything and her question soon led to her reasoning, some day she was going to write a book. Not now, tomorrow or even next week, just some day. Like writing a book was like walking to the local store - barring a disability of some kind anyone could do it. I chugged back any snide comments along with an initial reaction to wrap one of my bookmarks around her well-meaning neck. But I'm nicer than that, after all I write romance. I smile and give her a bookmark. Better than that I encourage her in her future, and now non-existent career. Of course any one can do it, it's just a matter of setting pen to paper. I think I may have ground a filling right off my tooth on landing but that's another story.So what does it take to be a writer? I think if you're tripping over the dog and scalding yourself with coffee in the early morning hours trying to get one more page completed before the world wakes up and demands attention; if you're weeping over the latest rejection letter or if you're holding your royalty cheque in your hand, no matter how tiny - you're a player who's earned the title, Writer. Your writing career is as real as your commitment to it, whether that career functions as one job or two. Now why is it so darn hard to say it? Isn't that kind of like asking whether your reflection in the mirror is real or fake? Of course your mirror image is real, just as real as the fact that you write. Eureka - writer!
To get branded as a writer it means writing in the midst of two "wonderful" things - rejection and waiting in no particular order. Rejection, even though there's been lots of good stuff these last few years including publication, writing that word makes me want to snarl and spit. Fortunately, my hubbie has learned to ignore me and the dog has taken my reaction to be a sign to bring out one of his larger stuffed animals and try to have his way with it. Let's not even go into what this might mean.
But I'm off course - If you want to read more of all the bad stuff that makes a "real" writer I have the blog for you. Just remember that this particular visit will dump you right out of the Disneyland lingo here and into the real world with a bang that may hurt some of your sensibilities - be brave, venture forth to Terribleminds.
Time to get real, there is no second prize - do they pay you for what you love best? And if not, why not?
Ryshia
www.ryshiakennie.com
January 12, 2011
Hazards of the Road - Road Kill
The fun thing about travel is tripping on the unexpected, the unfamiliar and the best way to do that is meet the locals. That holds true anywhere. No matter how short a distance you travel.
Footprints in the snowA jaunt to Minneapolis in these days of ultra security makes a winter trip between two cold regions a challenge. I'm used to packing much lighter but it's a trick to figuring out how to go lighter. Boots, coats, mitts all take room and all need to be divested in security lines and stowed in tight plane seating. Taking less is an option but winter storms are unpredictable. By our 9:30 a.m. arrival in the U.S. it felt like evening, I was having serious empathy for parents with toddlers, although my ears were still ringing from the toddler who cried and screamed the entire flight. That same little boy was now smiling sweetly a passenger or two ahead of me.
While I was writing this post I stumbled on an incident at a border crossing that only emphasized that some jobs may just be ideal for a writer. Fiction often falls out of real life and at a border crossing there's no busier intersection of lives. Click here for more.
But I digress, I finally made it through the immigration line - having as usual chosen the wrong line. The slowest one with an immigration officer who bellowed angry orders to frustrated travelers at regular intervals. When it was finally my turn, it was like I was facing a different man. A man wearing a smile and with the parting words; "Have a good trip hon".
Hon? Not a term you'll hear casually thrown out north of the U.S. border at least where I come from. But soon it's also not the only time I hear hon. I assume that this is part of the local lingo except I never hear the term again after leaving the airport. Is it possible that the airport is a culture unto itself? Or I just don't look like hon anymore?
A Farm in MinnesotaIt was before leaving the airport that we met a true lover of winter. A woman at the shuttle desk told us how other travelers had questioned her sanity for remaining in such a cold climate. Then she asked us how we liked Saskatchewan winter and then preceded to tell us about all her winter adventures in Minnesota from ice fishing to ski dooing. She glowed as she told us about them. I have to admit, I kind of admired her adventurous winter spirit for despite my place of origin, winter just isn't my thing. Since leaving my toboggan days as a child, those chilly little flakes haven't held much appeal. I mean snow is pretty, for about twenty-four hours or until you get stuck driving your car to the local convenience, take your pick. On the upside, as my mother says, it keeps crime down - why? see, I knew you'd bite - too cold to go outside and all the criminals stay indoors. That's her theory. I believe she's also been known to say that it keeps tempers at a minimum - no one's blood can heat up in sub zero temperatures. And if you believe that I'll give you a hotline to more Momisms.
We're in Laura Inglis Wilder territory now at least during her time On the Banks of Plum Creek - from Little House on the Prairie fame and not the Michael Landon TV version, for those of you who didn't devour the original series as children. Laura really had a knack of making winter look romantic. Sorry Laura, not even for you.
So fast forward to the hotel where there's a shuttle to the Mall of America. But from my hotel window I could see Macy's, an anchor store, across the parking lot. Now I'm puzzled, why the need for a shuttle except maybe for the old or infirm. So we inquire about bus times and mall access, thinking that one might have to walk around the gigantic structure to enter and thus the necessity for a shuttle. And when hearing that's not the case inquire if there was an undetected reason for us using the shuttle. "No, ma'am (another term not much heard north of the border), it depends where you come from and what kind of cold you're used to. Some of our guests take the shuttle because it's too cold or to bring their shopping back," he replied in his easy southern drawl. I bit back my questions that begin with where he might be from as there was no hint of Minnesota in that accent and assured him that we would walk across the parking lot.
But it was on our departure from that hotel when things got interesting. A conversation began with the inevitable question, "Where are you from?" This time there was no need to tag Canada to the long enough already Saskatchewan. This time I heard for the first time; "Oh, I've been there." But it was his next comment that really made the conversation interesting, "Drove from Regina to Saskatoon - expected to see more road kill. I was surprised I didn't see any at all. Was it the wrong time of year?
Rewind - what? Road kill?
For a moment I was at a loss. For one, I'm a city girl and for two, I'm an animal lover. Road kill just isn't in my reality. But a comment like that definitely had to be explored. So here's the scoop:
According to this local hotel manager, the roads of Minnesota are littered with dead animals in hunting season. Not shot but run over, and lots of them. I think he expected, because Saskatchewan is less populated and a similar prairie landscape, that we'd have the same or more. I assured him that even in hunting season there wasn't a lot of road kill. And it usually takes a much longer trip to see wild life of any kind - usually live. A coyote or two, some antelope or deer - all still breathing and usually loping in the distant fields, and maybe as far as road kill, on a busy day, a lone squashed skunk or deer was about all you were going to see and often, thank goodness, not even that. So after a discussion about live versus squashed viewing, we went on our separate ways.
Winter Highway, Saskatchewan
Somehow I don't think road kill is going to make it to the list of things to see and do in either Minnesota or Saskatchewan. Although I should never say never. And for those of you with a more macabre bent or a slightly twisted sense of humour, check out Road Kill Recipes.
The world is a big place and it's littered with interesting characters.
Any characters in your recent travels both near and afar? Or do you have another take on road kill? And please, not another recipe.
Ryshia
www.ryshiakennie.com
Footprints in the snowA jaunt to Minneapolis in these days of ultra security makes a winter trip between two cold regions a challenge. I'm used to packing much lighter but it's a trick to figuring out how to go lighter. Boots, coats, mitts all take room and all need to be divested in security lines and stowed in tight plane seating. Taking less is an option but winter storms are unpredictable. By our 9:30 a.m. arrival in the U.S. it felt like evening, I was having serious empathy for parents with toddlers, although my ears were still ringing from the toddler who cried and screamed the entire flight. That same little boy was now smiling sweetly a passenger or two ahead of me.While I was writing this post I stumbled on an incident at a border crossing that only emphasized that some jobs may just be ideal for a writer. Fiction often falls out of real life and at a border crossing there's no busier intersection of lives. Click here for more.
But I digress, I finally made it through the immigration line - having as usual chosen the wrong line. The slowest one with an immigration officer who bellowed angry orders to frustrated travelers at regular intervals. When it was finally my turn, it was like I was facing a different man. A man wearing a smile and with the parting words; "Have a good trip hon".
Hon? Not a term you'll hear casually thrown out north of the U.S. border at least where I come from. But soon it's also not the only time I hear hon. I assume that this is part of the local lingo except I never hear the term again after leaving the airport. Is it possible that the airport is a culture unto itself? Or I just don't look like hon anymore?
A Farm in MinnesotaIt was before leaving the airport that we met a true lover of winter. A woman at the shuttle desk told us how other travelers had questioned her sanity for remaining in such a cold climate. Then she asked us how we liked Saskatchewan winter and then preceded to tell us about all her winter adventures in Minnesota from ice fishing to ski dooing. She glowed as she told us about them. I have to admit, I kind of admired her adventurous winter spirit for despite my place of origin, winter just isn't my thing. Since leaving my toboggan days as a child, those chilly little flakes haven't held much appeal. I mean snow is pretty, for about twenty-four hours or until you get stuck driving your car to the local convenience, take your pick. On the upside, as my mother says, it keeps crime down - why? see, I knew you'd bite - too cold to go outside and all the criminals stay indoors. That's her theory. I believe she's also been known to say that it keeps tempers at a minimum - no one's blood can heat up in sub zero temperatures. And if you believe that I'll give you a hotline to more Momisms.We're in Laura Inglis Wilder territory now at least during her time On the Banks of Plum Creek - from Little House on the Prairie fame and not the Michael Landon TV version, for those of you who didn't devour the original series as children. Laura really had a knack of making winter look romantic. Sorry Laura, not even for you.
So fast forward to the hotel where there's a shuttle to the Mall of America. But from my hotel window I could see Macy's, an anchor store, across the parking lot. Now I'm puzzled, why the need for a shuttle except maybe for the old or infirm. So we inquire about bus times and mall access, thinking that one might have to walk around the gigantic structure to enter and thus the necessity for a shuttle. And when hearing that's not the case inquire if there was an undetected reason for us using the shuttle. "No, ma'am (another term not much heard north of the border), it depends where you come from and what kind of cold you're used to. Some of our guests take the shuttle because it's too cold or to bring their shopping back," he replied in his easy southern drawl. I bit back my questions that begin with where he might be from as there was no hint of Minnesota in that accent and assured him that we would walk across the parking lot.But it was on our departure from that hotel when things got interesting. A conversation began with the inevitable question, "Where are you from?" This time there was no need to tag Canada to the long enough already Saskatchewan. This time I heard for the first time; "Oh, I've been there." But it was his next comment that really made the conversation interesting, "Drove from Regina to Saskatoon - expected to see more road kill. I was surprised I didn't see any at all. Was it the wrong time of year?
Rewind - what? Road kill?
For a moment I was at a loss. For one, I'm a city girl and for two, I'm an animal lover. Road kill just isn't in my reality. But a comment like that definitely had to be explored. So here's the scoop:According to this local hotel manager, the roads of Minnesota are littered with dead animals in hunting season. Not shot but run over, and lots of them. I think he expected, because Saskatchewan is less populated and a similar prairie landscape, that we'd have the same or more. I assured him that even in hunting season there wasn't a lot of road kill. And it usually takes a much longer trip to see wild life of any kind - usually live. A coyote or two, some antelope or deer - all still breathing and usually loping in the distant fields, and maybe as far as road kill, on a busy day, a lone squashed skunk or deer was about all you were going to see and often, thank goodness, not even that. So after a discussion about live versus squashed viewing, we went on our separate ways.
Winter Highway, SaskatchewanSomehow I don't think road kill is going to make it to the list of things to see and do in either Minnesota or Saskatchewan. Although I should never say never. And for those of you with a more macabre bent or a slightly twisted sense of humour, check out Road Kill Recipes.
The world is a big place and it's littered with interesting characters.
Any characters in your recent travels both near and afar? Or do you have another take on road kill? And please, not another recipe.
Ryshia
www.ryshiakennie.com
January 8, 2011
Dirty Little Secrets
Calgary, AlbertaRecently I was in Calgary and between that and another trip that's falling on the shoulders of the last, I'm not holding up my usual working schedule. Add a trip or two to the usual craziness of the holiday season that already includes a number of birthdays, and let's just say that plans, schedule, whatever you want to call it = disaster.
Writing has suffered a blow or two as time usually dedicated to words has been hammered on all sides. I did manage to dabble, something I do when I feel overwhelmed. Overwhelmed, because this year I set my goals just a little higher and so I thought I'd start the year off with a bang - at least writing wise. And in these first few days of the new year, the opposite occurred.
Calgary, Alberta - Circa 1885Maybe I set my goal sights too high - no wait, I didn't. As I told my critique partner who is suffering early start syndromes of her own, it was only the beginning of the race and a slight stumble off the blocks is nothing. Really, it's rather like the settlements of long ago eventually growing to a city. It's the end results that really matters. This is the year, as I said in a previous blog, that I'd set some bars.So as time lines shrink and I know that to make the first deadline I must get that story into my critique partner's hands with enough room for the usual back and forth between us before making the last and most important deadline, I panic but only for a moment. I've been here before, deadlines are what they are and I know what I can do. I'll make the deadline, at least the one that matters, the one that I promised to someone other than myself. But first, another short jaunt, this time to Minneapolis - let's just say that next week will be a case of double time catch up.
See you then - with maybe a story or two about life south of the border.
Life is what happens while you are busy making other plans. John Lennon
Deadlines - I never shirk unless they're made to self. That's my dirty little secret, what's yours?
Ryshia
www.ryshiakennie.com
P.S. remember we're trying to go, as the movies say, pg. So, despite the title of this post - you'll have to spare us the real dirt.
December 31, 2010
2011 - Both Feet Into the New Year
The quiet lull I was enjoying only hours ago is heading into the celebration of the end of one year and the beginning of another. New Year's Eve. A new year, is it the beginning of new things or the continuation of things as they were?
Today I have a beautiful poster of writing goals. I think we all need that, not writing goals necessarily but a reminder of where we are going. I knew that before I was e-mailed the poster but I never realized the impact of having things so creatively worded. Set for hanging, right in front of me where I can be reminded very day that I promised before the second week of January ends I will have the latest story ready for critique. I'm already squirming at that - surely the third week of January or maybe the end - not! And the poster reminds me that no that's not good enough - get with it.
There's reminders everywhere but I'll mention one - a blogger who reminded me to shoot for the starts. Bob over at Satisfying Retirement surely has. Check out his blog post where he's laid it on the line.
Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could; some blunders and absurdities have crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day; you shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense. – Ralph Waldo Emerson
And Oh over at This Writing Life... I'm late in checking in but make mine a cup of peppermint tea - sounds lovely and I've never tried it - a new year, what better time.
Me, I'm going to settle in to a toast to the new year, a beautiful supper with friends and stay in out of the cold which has dived to uncomfortable lows even for my hardy prairie taste.
Happy New Year all! How are you planning to make your mark in 2011? One goal at a time or with gusto?
Ryshia
www.ryshiakennie.com
Today I have a beautiful poster of writing goals. I think we all need that, not writing goals necessarily but a reminder of where we are going. I knew that before I was e-mailed the poster but I never realized the impact of having things so creatively worded. Set for hanging, right in front of me where I can be reminded very day that I promised before the second week of January ends I will have the latest story ready for critique. I'm already squirming at that - surely the third week of January or maybe the end - not! And the poster reminds me that no that's not good enough - get with it.There's reminders everywhere but I'll mention one - a blogger who reminded me to shoot for the starts. Bob over at Satisfying Retirement surely has. Check out his blog post where he's laid it on the line.
Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could; some blunders and absurdities have crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day; you shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense. – Ralph Waldo Emerson
And Oh over at This Writing Life... I'm late in checking in but make mine a cup of peppermint tea - sounds lovely and I've never tried it - a new year, what better time.
Me, I'm going to settle in to a toast to the new year, a beautiful supper with friends and stay in out of the cold which has dived to uncomfortable lows even for my hardy prairie taste.
Happy New Year all! How are you planning to make your mark in 2011? One goal at a time or with gusto?
Ryshia
www.ryshiakennie.com
December 28, 2010
Resolutions or Goals - Same Old Muse
The lull between Christmas and New Years is one of my favourite times of the year. The excessive hype of Christmas preparations is over and there's time to sit back and relax. It's the one time of the year when the decadence of chocolate and a good book can be enjoyed without guilt that the afternoon has slipped by and the dishes are still in the sink.
It's this quiet time when the passion that began a story comes back. When again I find myself awake at six a.m. without the bleat of the alarm clock. Unlike the alarm clock, it's a softer awakening as the story is calling to me, announcing what now appears to be an obvious fix.
It is in these last few days of the old year when my good friend aka my critique partner and I make 2011 writing resolutions. Goals really, completion dates if you will. And it felt good.
"If you aim at nothing, you'll hit it every time." Milton Berle
So today as the new year slides closer, I celebrate one year older. Fortunately, the goals for half the year are already made. And my gift to self - I'm letting the muse do the writing.
Structure and goals are important but when it comes right down to it - it's the muse that has all the fun!
"What is The Subconscious to every other man, in its creative aspect becomes, for writers, The Muse." Ray Bradbury
So in the waning days of the year I may just carry on and let the muse have full rein. Let's see how long she lasts.
And you - are you rushing or sliding into the new year?
Ryshia
www.ryshiakennie.com
It's this quiet time when the passion that began a story comes back. When again I find myself awake at six a.m. without the bleat of the alarm clock. Unlike the alarm clock, it's a softer awakening as the story is calling to me, announcing what now appears to be an obvious fix. It is in these last few days of the old year when my good friend aka my critique partner and I make 2011 writing resolutions. Goals really, completion dates if you will. And it felt good.
"If you aim at nothing, you'll hit it every time." Milton Berle
So today as the new year slides closer, I celebrate one year older. Fortunately, the goals for half the year are already made. And my gift to self - I'm letting the muse do the writing.
Structure and goals are important but when it comes right down to it - it's the muse that has all the fun!
"What is The Subconscious to every other man, in its creative aspect becomes, for writers, The Muse." Ray Bradbury
So in the waning days of the year I may just carry on and let the muse have full rein. Let's see how long she lasts.
And you - are you rushing or sliding into the new year?
Ryshia
www.ryshiakennie.com
December 22, 2010
There's Tinsel On My Keyboard!
The crazy days of pre-Christmas planning are finally winding down. The presents are bought, mostly. And the tree made it up just four days ago. It's a small tree and because of that you wouldn't think it could cause much grief but it did. The three strands of lights that tangle with each other every year and would be a puzzle addicts dream, takes an hour to unravel. But the lights are up, and glowing in true Charlie Brown glory.
No, I'm not the Grinch but it is true that I once used a Dieffenbachia as a Christmas tree. I've upgraded since then but lets be truthful here, decorating, except for Halloween, really isn't my thing. Besides, I'm pretty sure no one would appreciate my macabre collection at this time of year.
All that aside, I am the queen of creative wrap having wrapped gifts using anything from shells and stones for decorations to material from well-loved but obsolete garments. So while hubbie makes this year's rum balls I'm wrapping and wrapping and...And the writing, well I still need to get a word count but I've learned to be slightly more flexible. The pre-Christmas whirl means that over this last week no morning's work is complete without a phone call for one reason or another. It means getting up a tad earlier, in order to get out the door before the shopping crowds. It means sneaking to the freezer at ten o'clock for just one more frozen treat. And it means that I've almost broken my neck twice over that missing pair of scissors that just happened to be lurking on the office floor. Yep, I'm being much more creative in trying to get that word count over the last week.
And for all you writers out there and even non-writers, here's a contest from Gotham Writers' Workshop. It caught my eye right away as there's an iPad and Amazon kindle up for grabs, as well as a whole collection of other prizes. Here's the link: The Writers' Wishlist Sweepstakes.
Happy Holidays!
Or are you looking forward to the boxing day wind down?
Ryshia
www.ryshiakennie.com
December 15, 2010
Reviews - I'd Rather Be in Jericho
What's on the boombox? Yep, it's a big old yellow boom box that I used to think was so state of the art, that plays the tunes in my basement office. This morning I listen to the classics as I work on the latest story but last evening it was the Zombies as I updated a mailing list.
But all that isn't what today's post is all about. Today I was griping about book reviews, bad reviews, not mine but another author's whose work I love.
Now there's lots of good reviews on this author's books and how couldn't there be considering they've spiked best seller lists again and again. But it's the bad reviews that intrigued me. What had I missed in a story that I thought was told better than any story I had read in quite a while? Why for that matter, after I'd purchased the book, did I care about the reviews? Well, if I weren't a writer I wouldn't have this penchant for looking up reviews post read but I do. There's much to be learned from reviews and there's much to be discounted as well.
I've never agreed with those writers that say they don't read their reviews, especially the bad ones. I want to shout, please read the reviews, especially the bad ones. There's been authors I've followed for a number of books and suddenly the stories slump. Readers only have so much staying power. I know I'll stick to a favourite author through a couple of stories that have fallen flat. After that - well for most, I'll turn to other authors.
But the stories that missed the mark - what's going on? Could the truth be hidden in an ignored bad review or two? I know good reviews are every bit as biased as bad reviews. Maybe it's the whole picture that really matters. After all how else do you improve if you don't balance the bad against the good - the nay-sayers against the cheerleaders.
As a reader, I'll tell you a quirk of mine, if I discover a well-reviewed book I'm immediately suspicious. It's that one bad review that puts my suspicions to rest that this is a solid book and not a book whose sales are held up by good will and hype. I've read one to many well reviewed books that were disappointments. Of course too many bad reviews and the reviews need a closer look. Is the book controversial and has the masses screaming as a result or is just plain bad? Either way, those bad reviews have me paying more attention to that author and their book than a bevvy of good reviews ever could.
And for those of you, that like me are hankering to travel, here's a view on a foggy day
of Jerusalem on the left and Jericho on the right all taken from the shores of
Jordan - courtesy of a friend who is currently on the road..
Good reviews, bad reviews, reader, writer - there's something to be learned from them all.
Reviews - read them, write them, ignore them?
Ryshiawww.ryshiakennie.com
But all that isn't what today's post is all about. Today I was griping about book reviews, bad reviews, not mine but another author's whose work I love.
Now there's lots of good reviews on this author's books and how couldn't there be considering they've spiked best seller lists again and again. But it's the bad reviews that intrigued me. What had I missed in a story that I thought was told better than any story I had read in quite a while? Why for that matter, after I'd purchased the book, did I care about the reviews? Well, if I weren't a writer I wouldn't have this penchant for looking up reviews post read but I do. There's much to be learned from reviews and there's much to be discounted as well.
I've never agreed with those writers that say they don't read their reviews, especially the bad ones. I want to shout, please read the reviews, especially the bad ones. There's been authors I've followed for a number of books and suddenly the stories slump. Readers only have so much staying power. I know I'll stick to a favourite author through a couple of stories that have fallen flat. After that - well for most, I'll turn to other authors.
But the stories that missed the mark - what's going on? Could the truth be hidden in an ignored bad review or two? I know good reviews are every bit as biased as bad reviews. Maybe it's the whole picture that really matters. After all how else do you improve if you don't balance the bad against the good - the nay-sayers against the cheerleaders.
As a reader, I'll tell you a quirk of mine, if I discover a well-reviewed book I'm immediately suspicious. It's that one bad review that puts my suspicions to rest that this is a solid book and not a book whose sales are held up by good will and hype. I've read one to many well reviewed books that were disappointments. Of course too many bad reviews and the reviews need a closer look. Is the book controversial and has the masses screaming as a result or is just plain bad? Either way, those bad reviews have me paying more attention to that author and their book than a bevvy of good reviews ever could.
And for those of you, that like me are hankering to travel, here's a view on a foggy dayof Jerusalem on the left and Jericho on the right all taken from the shores of
Jordan - courtesy of a friend who is currently on the road..
Good reviews, bad reviews, reader, writer - there's something to be learned from them all.
Reviews - read them, write them, ignore them?
Ryshiawww.ryshiakennie.com
December 9, 2010
Dance in Rangoon - Dance Anywhere
You know the days, when it's one thing after another. As you're juggling one ball, three more come at you. Or the days when the bad news seems to have received no expiration date. It just keeps flying in and you think the universe has either narrowed its sights on one mortal - what are the odds with six billion or so to choose from - either that or life just has a warped kind of humour.
Annual School Parade, Rangoon, Myanmar/BurmaWhen life gives you lemons make lemonade. You know, I'm thinking, put a little gin in that lemonade then call it good.
Today was one of those days, minus the gin. And that is the reason for this post and the question - What else are you going to do other than juggle those balls and keep on going? Well, there is one other thing. Dance.
That's right, dance. Wildly, out of control and preferably alone. Why, because at the end of a not so great day, because you can, because it just makes you feel good. Alone? Why subject anyone else to what is obviously not going to be a performance of Dancing with the Stars. Shake your head at me, call me crazy. Give it a shot.
Meantime, I'm back at it, the next chapter not in my life but in the lives of my characters, those fictional people I like to persecute from time to time. Yep and that new chapter - I'm thinking I might want to re-read before getting at things tomorrow. Who knows what I may have written but hopefully it wasn't in a fit of pique.
Until tomorrow. Dance.
Ryshia
www.ryshiakennie.com
Annual School Parade, Rangoon, Myanmar/BurmaWhen life gives you lemons make lemonade. You know, I'm thinking, put a little gin in that lemonade then call it good.Today was one of those days, minus the gin. And that is the reason for this post and the question - What else are you going to do other than juggle those balls and keep on going? Well, there is one other thing. Dance.
That's right, dance. Wildly, out of control and preferably alone. Why, because at the end of a not so great day, because you can, because it just makes you feel good. Alone? Why subject anyone else to what is obviously not going to be a performance of Dancing with the Stars. Shake your head at me, call me crazy. Give it a shot.
Meantime, I'm back at it, the next chapter not in my life but in the lives of my characters, those fictional people I like to persecute from time to time. Yep and that new chapter - I'm thinking I might want to re-read before getting at things tomorrow. Who knows what I may have written but hopefully it wasn't in a fit of pique.
Until tomorrow. Dance.
Ryshia
www.ryshiakennie.com
December 4, 2010
The Courage to Dream - Across the Globe to Jordan
Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says I'll try again tomorrow. ~Mary Anne Radmacher
Amman, Jordan
Today a friend is heading off to Amman, Jordan. It's a long way to go but it's part of a dream she's had for many years. A dream and a passion to conserve the past, the history of buildings. It's a lot more than that but the gist of this story is that she took a calculated risk to attend a conference half way around the world as another step in the fulfillment of a dream. For most of us flying that far by ourselves would be challenging enough but to arrive prepared to present at a conference populated by some of the world's best in their field, well that's another story entirely. "At first, dreams seem impossible, then improbable, and eventually inevitable." Christopher Reeve
If you're a dreamer, odds are you aren't always living in the moment. I completely admit that often, to use an expression of my mother's, I have my head in the clouds. Like the other day, Rourke and I were taking our customary walk. Rourke prancing along with an aura of pride in his stride. Yep, he had new duds and if you don't think a dog feels pride, you haven't met Rourke.
Rourke in his new gearAnyway, Rourke was concentrating on the sights and smells and how good he looked. I was concentrating on what havoc my latest antagonist was going to mete on my hero and heroine. I think it was just about the time when I thought, he's going to kill now with the gun in... when I heard the crunch of a heavy foot on hard-packed snow, swung around and was faced with a man directly behind me. Where had he come from? I must have had fear on my face for he was immediately apologizing. Just a jogger, who I normally would have heard a block away. And in my defense - Rourke jumped too.What a pair we make. I sure hope the jogger wasn't a blogger or Rourke and I might be featured as the scaredy-cat duo. Seriously, I don't dream all the time but when I'm cooking up a novel the tracts between reality and fiction can get mighty thin.
RourkeRealizing a dream is a whole lot of work, a one step at a time process. And some of those steps can be intimidating, like flying half way around the world or slightly smaller like taking a walk and dreaming up a plot. Big steps, little steps, it doesn't matter as long as they're in the right direction.
Ambition is a dream with a V8 engine. Elvis Presley
Ryshia
www.ryshiakennie.com
