Kathryn Magendie's Blog: Lonely Woman's Guide to the Galaxy, page 8

Behind the Oz-ey Curtain, Writers’ Mysteries are Exposed . . . .

Cowardly Lion : I *do* believe in spooks, I *do* believe in spooks. I do, I do, I do, I *do* believe in spooks, I *do* believe in spooks, I do, I do, I do, I *do*!

Wicked Witch of the West: Ah! You’ll believe in more than that before I’m finished with you.

In the Wizard of Oz, Dorothy and Friends quake and quiver and stare in respectful awe at The Great Wizard. The curtain hasn���t yet been thrown back to show the little old man who hides behind a great fiery bravado.

Dorothy: It really was no miracle.



Once the man behind the curtain is revealed, the magic and mystery is gone. The man is exposed and thus isn���t viewed in awe, isn���t revered as The Great One. He���s only a man with a few tricks up his sleeve that he���d used to his advantage. He must come out, show his true self (and all along his true self was wonderful indeed–he never recognized this before).

Sometimes it���s like this with writers. Or, maybe I should say it was like this for writers. The little old man behind the curtain with all his levers and buttons and devices used to project the aura of magic���an enigma and a mystery. But, somewhere along the way the curtain was pulled back to reveal just who and what was behind all the fire and booming voice and bigger than life image projected.

Wizard of Oz : Step forward, Tin Man!

Tin Woodsman: Ohhhh!

Wizard of Oz: You DARE to come to me for a heart, do you? You clinking, clanking, clattering collection of kaligenous junk!

Now, with so much exposed, writers are pushed out into the world, blinking in the sunlight, their mouths in soft O���s of surprise, turning this way and that to all who stare at them and say, ���Wait just a minute here���behind that curtain is just . . . you? What���s so special about . . . just you?��� And like the wizard, the author must explain him/herself and then offer up gifts to show they really do have something more after all to give, and not just all the flash and thunder, but something more���what what? what they ask, what more? Our heart, Our brain, our courage . . . .

With the internet, social networking blogs twitter Facebook, et cetera; the author can no longer easily hide behind the Wizard���s curtain. Most all is exposed. The awed revered mysterious respect authors may have once enjoyed can be torn asunder as the heavy curtain has been drawn back and people peer in at the levers and buttons and projected image paraphernalia.

Wizard of Oz : A heart is not judged by how much you love; but by how much you are loved by others.

I don���t know what it felt like to be an author during the Wizard Times. My experiences have all been after the curtain was thrown back and the Wizard���s controls were set to ���off��� and the fiery veil died down to embers. I have been the little old man from the beginning���exposed.

Do love what you do? Do you love yourself?

I���ve shown my heart to you through my writing. I���ve given of myself through what I reveal on my blog or Facebook, or any other site I may wander through or write thereof henceforth et cetera.

I still hide���there are sides and parts and parcels of me that I keep to myself. But, open my books and I am an open book. My heart beats within and among and between the pages of my words and characters.

I give myself to you, my heart. Tha-rump, tha-rump, tha-rump.

Wizard of Oz: You, my friend, are a victim of disorganized thinking. You are under the unfortunate impression that just because you run away you have no courage; you’re confusing courage with wisdom

Artists, actors, musicians, authors, athletes���all have had the Wizard���s curtain pulled back, leaving them vulnerable to speculation, observations, opinions in a way that is much more public and personal than ever before.

Lately, I have run away from it. I���ve not been writing. Oh, maybe something here, something there���no, I lie. I lie, lie, lie! I have not been writing at all. I���ve been running far far away from myself. I���ve been denying the heart of me and I wonder: do you feel the distance, my lovely readers? Do you miss me at all? And then I feel foolish for my meandering thoughts, for there are so many of us! How is even one missed? I quake and quiver���I���m confusing courage with wisdom.

Because sometimes we just need a little time to realize we are human after all.

Dorothy: Toto, I���ve got a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore

How many times have you heard someone speak about the ���downfall��� of a ���celebrity��� with a little too much glee in their voice? Or a sense of ���Huhn, they thought they were SO smart and SO important���now look at them, they���re only just a little old man and not a Great Wizard after all! How Pa-The-Tic!���

What goes up must come down. The bigger they are the harder they fall���you���ve heard the clich��s. There were those halcyon days before, when that writer/actor/singer/musician/athlete followed that yellow brick road looking for the wizard���some to unseat him, some to find out his magic to take for their own, some to find heart or courage or knowledge or home.

The stakes seem higher now, the road longer, the expectations bigger. What’s a poor Wizard to do?

Scarecrow: Come along, Dorothy. You don’t want any of *those* apples.

Apple Tree: Are you hinting my apples aren’t what they ought to be?

Scarecrow: Oh, no. It’s just that she doesn’t like little green worms!

Follow the Yellow Brick Road. Follow the Yellow Brick Road . . .

We’re off to see the Wizard, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.

You’ll find he is a whiz of a Wiz! If ever a Wiz! there was.

If ever oh ever a Wiz! there was The Wizard of Oz is one because,

Because, because, because, because, because.

Because of the wonderful things he does.

We’re off to see the Wizard. The Wonderful Wizard of Oz

There will be a new day in the land of Oz���old ways turn to new ways. Things cannot stay the same because the Land of Oz is changing.

Meanwhile, our Dorothy dons her ruby slippers and turns three times:

There’s no place like home; there’s no place like home; there’s no place like home . . . .

But even home has changed, for Dorothy herself has seen the other side, seen behind the Wizard’s curtain.

And she turns, turns, turns���going to some altered version of what may or may not be truly home, never to be the same again.

But after all, is that so bad? It is neither bad nor good���it is life and love and hope and fear and trying again and again and again and giving up and giving in and getting up and going forward.

Oh! Auntie Em! Auntie Em! I’m following another road! Where . . . where . . . where . . . where . . . where . . . ?

Filed under: craft of writing Tagged: wizard of oz, writers, writing

Science Day: Thoughts on origins of life–snottites and all

(I’m continuing to repost earlier blog posts until I am ready to being new postings – soon. So, in honor of my snotty cold – eww – I repost this that includes Cave Snottites in Mexico. Hoping in the months to come to have some science, some book/writing related, some health related; whatever strikes my wittle fancy)

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Where did life come from? I am here to explore. I am here to say what if and wow and imagine and Can you believe that? And could that have really happened and–to Discover!

Did we come from outer-space? Sounds weird, doesn’t it? Well, aren’t we now in “outer space?” Isn’t Earth a celestial body? We’re hanging about in the air just like all the other planets, stars, moons.

Imagine Early Earth as this fiery ball bombarded with meteorites and comets. What if the basic beginning of life was deposited here by those meteorites and comets?

Look at the oldest fossils found, a few billion years ago, and there were microscopic “life forms” that caused our earth to change from that uninhabitable ball of fire and raging heated lifelessness to one like we now know.  And how did they survive on the earth that was so roiling and boiling?– I like the scientist character’s assessment on Jurassic Park: “Life Finds A Way . . . . ” So, here are these tiny forms of life Finding Their Way, and what they did was transform our Earth! These microscopic entities created the oxygen that sustains the life forms inhabiting our Earth.

Sometimes I wonder: what if I were suddenly transported back a thousand years, or two or three thousand, how would my breathing be? What would the earth smell like? How would my feet feel upon the ground, my eyes see color and texture? My blood circulate? And if someone were transported forward to thousands of years from now, evolving instantly along the way, how would they breathe? How would their lungs and circulation work? What would the earth smell like to them?

If one took the soft tissue of someone from a thousand years ago and compared it to my soft tissue, what would the differences be? How have we evolved because of the changes to our atmosphere, and what we eat, how we move about or don’t move about, and how we live our everyday lives in response to happiness and having things and not having things, to the stresses and joys and overwhelming possibilities of just where are we headed and how life is lived now and our responses to each other as humans with varied thoughts and beliefs—how would we differ from the earliest “intelligent life?” How has Earth Evolved? Are we only a big Circle of Life and Destruction? To begin and end and begin and end and begin and end, round and round and round we go.

So, evolution doesn’t happen in a sudden way where we can look and say, “Hey, I have an extra vein that leads from my brain to my spinal cord because . . . . ” Instead, the changes are insidious. Human Animals and Non Human Animals adapt to our environments. Some become extinct, some alter they way they fit in the world–survival versus extinction. We can’t remain as we are, and hundreds of years from now, what will our bodies be like? What will our brains be like—how will we see and hear and think and discover? Who will we be?

But, I digress; don’t you love to hate my digressions?

These tiny micro-organisms were creating the oxygen to change the atmosphere of our Earth to one where A Life Form would simply be vaporized if they stood upon the earth’s surface to one where we can walk along a garden and pick a fresh tomato and eat it while a rabbit sniffs the carrots and a butterfly sips from a flower and a tree shades a dog and a cat eats a mouse and a child is born and it is protected (or it is not), to where we can be arrogant about the very air we breathe.

In Ancient Earth, meteorites bombarded—carbon arrived. Things began to change.

If you imagine our sun as weaker, and that light from it was weaker, if you imagine the hydrogen sulfide and stinky fumes and the amount of carbon dioxide, this inhabitable fiery place—this sounds more like a Biblical apocalypse, doesn’t it? As if the End of The World in the book of the Bible is not really the End of the Earth, but the beginning of it. So, here’s this Earth with a stifling atmosphere and a red-orange color, and oceans that were a weird slug green color. Comets and meteors pounded the crap out of our Earth, vaporizing waters, creating this noxious rain, and it is in this environment that Life Finds A Way.

In Mexico, an example can be found as to how Life Finds A Way. In the tropical rain-forest, in the cave Cueva de Villa Luz. In this cave is a nasty smelling place of hydrogen sulfide—much like scientists believe the earth was a few billion years ago, maybe four billion. Scientists study this cave, since they think it represents Early Earth for clues to how Life began. Inside the cave (and to enter this cave, you have to wear gas masks, for it is deadly), are these single-cell bacteria that dribble this slimy ick that the scientists call snottites—because, yes, they look like snot. How original! Those silly ole wacky scientists have a sense of humor! But, the snottites are “alive” and they are in that hostile environment, thriving.

Bacteria. The most ancient form of life on our Earth. They adapt to what they need to adapt to (and isn’t that a scary thought—think about it: we spend millions in attempts to be bacteria free—well, if these little organisms are that tenacious, if they are the origins of life, if they stubbornly insist on BEING HERE, then don’t you think they will Find A Way? Dang.)

So, the bacteria begin to thrive, grow, adapt, reproduce. In the single-cell bacteria there is a molecule of DNA—and we all know that DNA is the Code of Life—allowing them to multiply. Inside the snottites are millions of bacteria. And in this cave, which represents Earth billions of years ago, there are towns and cities and continents of bacteria, which depend on their environment instead of being consumed by it.

Neil deGrasse Tyson says, “Conditions on early Earth may have been far worse, but these bacteria suggest that primitive life could have thrived in extremely hostile environments . . . For more than a century, scientists have known that life is the result of chemistry, the combination of just the right ingredients in just the right amounts.”

And those ingredients, folks, for every living organism, are: oxygen, carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, calcium, and phosphorus—elements that are common in the universe, with our buddy CARBON as the Main element, good ole flexible Carbon (you’ve all probably heard our “carbon footprint” environmental stuff, right?).

Life Is Chemistry—we are a chemistry experiment created by whatever you choose to believe: Chance or God or Both or All or Some or Chaos or Design or Science is God or God is Science or Big Bangity Boom Boom Boom—but we are chemistry, y’all. Beautiful gorgeous lovely interesting fascinating chemistry experiments.

Now go live the wonderful Earth life those bacteria worked so hard on creating for you.

Filed under: astronomy, nature, neil deGrasse tyson, physicists, science Tagged: evolution, kathryn magendie, nova scienceNow, origins of life, science

Finding the rest of your (life’s) story . . . .

I found this blog post from right after my father died and my brother and I went on a journey – an odyssey – and I was keeping a little bit of a “blog journal” of our travels —  little did I know how my life would morph and change in unexpected, and very big, ways–though, truth told, I knew change was coming; felt it in my bones, down to the marrow. I read this post as if someone else wrote it, and it contains a message for me. Maybe for someone out there, too.

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As my brother and I left Blanchard Caves on our Odyssey trip, one of the tour guides said to us, “Watch out for deer. They come out this time of the evening.”

It wasn’t ten minutes later, as we carefully drove along an unfamiliar road in the soon-to-be-coming dusky dark, that I saw a deer by the side of the road and said, “Up head. There’s one; be careful.” We passed the deer without incident, both laughing at how we were warned and then there a deer was.

A few miles more, and I saw her. She darted out quickly and in the time it took me to open my mouth and yell, “Watch out!” she’d already ran right into Tommy’s truck. The sickening sound of WHAM! against metal, and our cries of “Oh no!”

 Tommy said, “I can’t go back. I just can’t.” The stricken look that formed his features into grief must have mirrored my own.

I said, “I know, Tommy. I understand.”

Yet, as we both said this, he’d already slowed, ready to pull to the side of the road. We both knew we couldn’t leave a suffering animal. We’d just lost our father and the thought of dealing with death of any kind caused our faces to fall into folds of worry and sick and sad. The Odyssey had barely begun and already we were ready to call it Done. It was all too much. Too much. Too much. And if she was suffering, what would we do? How to help her?

Tommy looked into his rearview and said, “Hey wait! She’s up! She’s running into the woods.”

“That means she’s probably okay. Oh I hope so. And Tommy,” I said, “even if she’s not, we can’t go searching for her in unfamiliar woods, especially with dark coming soon.”

“I know,” he said. And we went on our way down that lonely darkening road. The night tainted, unfamiliar. Grieved. It felt as if Tommy and I were the only humans left in the world. Visions of the beautiful animal hurt in the woods pummeled my thoughts. I know Tommy was feeling that too.

After driving in silence for another hour or so, we began to worry. There was nothing out there but a smattering of farm houses here and there far back from the road. We were tired and ready to settle in for the evening. At last we saw lights in the distance, and we came to a gas-station where we stopped to fill up. As Tommy went inside, I looked around, trying to gauge my bearings, feeling disoriented and exhausted. There were a few men standing around but they didn’t look approachable. Another woman filled her car, but she had an angry expression. I felt uncomfortable there, as if I were an interloper upon their space and place and time.

Just then, a woman pulled up to fill her tank. Something about her calmed me, so I made my decision and walked up to her, “Excuse me,” I said, “But where are we?”

She laughed, and told me.

“Is there a hotel nearby?”

She laughed again, then said, “Not one you’d want to stay in, that’s for sure.”

At my stricken look her face softened. “Hey, look. You can go to Hardy. It’s a little town but it has a couple of decent hotels. And!” She smiles at this, “And! it has a Wal-mart and a McDonalds!”

“Sold!” I grinned at her, then said, “Thank you so very much.”

“No problem. Drive safely. There’s some construction on the way.”

A little over an hour later, Tommy and I were checked-in to a hotel, and set out to the McDonalds for salads and to Wal-mart for a few supplies. Our moods were lighter, our faces lit in relief.

I said to my brother, “I only wish I’d asked her name. She saved us a heap of driving into the unknown.”

The next morning was bright and beautiful. Tommy and I prepared again for our Odyssey, our faces as bright and beautiful as the morning. “Off we go!, I cried, “Into the wild blue yonder!” We laughed, speeding off to the next adventure.

I think often if we’d have given up because of that evening we were so tired and sad and distraught. I think if we’d have consulted technology and sped our way to an interstate where everything is The Same, given up the discovery we had been so excited about—the old back roads using only our sense of direction and a paper map. I think what if we’d have said the trip was too hard, and we were too tired and disoriented. We’d have missed the Rest of the Story. We’d have never known the days ahead of that evening. We’d have slapped the face of the evenings before The Deer & Lost in the Dark incident when we felt as if the entire world was waiting for us to find little treasures.

Everything doesn’t have to be easy. Everything doesn’t always go our way, or the right way. Everything we do has ups and downs, has disappointments and successes. It’s when we decide to keep going, to let the dark times teach us to reach out and to find The Rest of The Story, that we live the life we were meant to live—one well-lived.

Will you give up? Or will you find The Rest of Your Story?

Filed under: General Poo Dee Dah

Well ain’t that some shit, Kathryn Magendie: kicking the ass of my fears.

I done been here, and I done been there, and I done this and I done that and I done the other. I done thangs I never done before. I done thangs I haven’t in a long long time.

I been where I’ve never been, and where I’ve seldom been, and where I’ve left, and where I’ve said I’d never go, or never return to.

This here woman done seen thangs that made her speechless with wonder. Made her stop right there and say, “Well . . . oh my god.”

This here woman done done thangs that opened her up and turned her inside out bursting kaleidoscopic super-nova–KaBOOM! Ka-POW! Ka-BAM!

And I ate things I said I’d never again eat. I broke many “food rules;” like, never eat pork: I ate bacon and damned if it wasn’t tasty; I ate peaches with the skin on them and the juice ran down my arm and I licked it away; and my rule of never ever ever EVER eat in the middle of the night: welp, I ate cheesecake in bed with my bare hands (no utensils available–who cares!) at 2:30 PM in a hotel and it was GOOD! And I ate turtle pie at 2:30 AM in bed at someone’s house (something about 2:30, huh?) but that time I had a fork, and it was GOOD! And the world kept turning, turning, turning.

Nothing bad came of my rebellion against Self Denial–

So many things on the Kathryn’s List Of Things I denied myself over the years as I tried to control my world: POOF! I devoured those rules–I ate up those rules for breakfast lunch and dinner. I gluttoned myself on Rule Breaking. I stopped trying to control all the wild and strength and excitement and wonder and curiosity that I’d kept hidden from myself and the world. Hello, World–nice to meet you–how you like me now?

I considered things I’d never considered. I reconsidered things I’d never reconsidered. I walked where my shoes had never been and tossed off my shoes and felt unfamiliar ground beneath my feet. I stomped in puddles. The ground didn’t open up and swallow me.

I drank too much a couple of times and lived to tell the tales though they shall remain secret. I became angry enough to break something that wasn’t even mine, at least twice–and that felt AWESOME! Though contriteness followed the breaking it still felt awesome.

Sleep was lost–lots of sleep was lost, but I didn’t care because it was on-purpose lost sleep.

Oh but I kissed without restraint.

And I laughed–a lot. I cried, but not where anyone could see; well, maybe someone did see but they understood the whys of it all.

The new novel was opened and I gazed at my words and I wrote many more words and I created new characters and I knew that I’d always do this even if, or though, I will not, or may not, ever make any really good solid money at it. I will write the words and the words will empty from me and then I will fill up again. Empty. Fill. Empty. Fill. Empty. Fill.–a metaphor of the rest of my life – fill fill fill empty fill fill fill empty FILL FILL FILL FILL FILL! OMG FILL ME UP, LIFE!

Give me more life. Give me more love. Give me more people. Give me more food. Give me more new experiences. Give me more family. Give me more friends. Give me more lover. Give me more more more of the universe one two three blast-off!

There were the days that blazed brilliant. And there were the days that I drug my ass around in a daze.

There were old friends and new friends. There were people, and more people, and more people–and I did not hide (much).

For the last few months, I lived one hundred years of my life full out for nothing–full out for everything–full.

All the years I was the aging Rapunzel locked in her tower (where she’d locked herself by the way), I finally stepped out into the world and blinked and then ran towards everything I’d ever been afraid of–and some of it I am still afraid of but I’m kicking the ass of my fears. Kicking the ass of my fears. Kicking the goddammed ass of my fears.

Kicking the ass of my fears, y’all.

Filed under: kathryn magendie, kicking ass Tagged: kathryn magendie

Tuesday Morning Coffee: getting your groove on or back or sideways or however a groove works – haw!

When Angie’s nekkid husband comes in (but we didn’t get to see him – lawd!) and Ann says she flaps around her house like a bird – well dang — and I receive texts that Ann interprets as inappropriate (because they usually are – teehee). But we do manage to stay on topic, a little anyway.

And yes, I have neglected my blog and for that I offer up only discombobulated grunts. One day my life will fall back into place, but won’t that be boring? haw! My life, right now, is all about exploration and discovery and wild rides and meeting new people and seeing new (and old) places and experiencing things I’ve never experienced because I’ve been afraid or busy or made excuses or was hiding — now, well, WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE HAAWWWWWWWWWWW! watch out, Kat (or watch out, World – maybe I should say!). All many of these experiences will go into my new novel. Yeah. WHUPOW!

Filed under: authors, authors and books, baton rouge, divorce, dreams, General Poo Dee Dah, health fitness, inspiration, kathryn magendie, kicking ass, marriage, photographs, poetry and prose

Work-out Writer: When it���s like sex

katmagendie:

I miss these old “work out writer” posts and think I shall resurrect them. This one is one of my favorites – “The work out writer: when it’s like sex” . . . .

Originally posted on Kathryn Magendie:

breath ��� breeeaath ��� breeaaatth ��� BREATH

Workout: You anticipate the workout, what it will feel like, how good it will be. Your brain flirts with the idea of what you���ll soon experience. You dress in what you know will entice you to the gym, put you in the mood. You hop on the treadmill, and begin slow, slow, slow, warming up, your body begins to��Pay Attention, something exciting is about�� to happen. The music pulses in your ear, the beat just quick enough to cause your synapses to fire off, your blood to move, your heart to quicken.��Arch your back, feel your spine tingle, mouth slightly open so breaths can essss-scaaape.

As the music pulse upbeats, so do you, a little faster, a little more intent, your breath begins to pant, your body oh so aware���you oh so aware of your body and what it can���

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Filed under: General Poo Dee Dah

Work-out Writer: When it’s like sex

katmagendie:

I miss these old “work out writer” posts and think I shall resurrect them. This one is one of my favorites – “The work out writer: when it’s like sex” . . . .

Originally posted on Kathryn Magendie:

breath — breeeaath — breeaaatth — BREATH

Workout: You anticipate the workout, what it will feel like, how good it will be. Your brain flirts with the idea of what you’ll soon experience. You dress in what you know will entice you to the gym, put you in the mood. You hop on the treadmill, and begin slow, slow, slow, warming up, your body begins to Pay Attention, something exciting is about  to happen. The music pulses in your ear, the beat just quick enough to cause your synapses to fire off, your blood to move, your heart to quicken. Arch your back, feel your spine tingle, mouth slightly open so breaths can essss-scaaape.

As the music pulse upbeats, so do you, a little faster, a little more intent, your breath begins to pant, your body oh so aware—you oh so aware of your body and what it can…

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Filed under: General Poo Dee Dah

Oprah says, ���Don���t Be Attached to the Outcome . . . .��� AHA! What about you and your “Goals?” . . .

katmagendie:

Lookee what I found – and this is something I really needed to re-read while going through all my stress and worry and changes and anxiety and chaotic though and insomnia – Kathryn, take your own advice, okay? Okay!

Originally posted on Kathryn Magendie:

���When you have done everything that you can do, surrender. Give yourself up to the power and energy that���s greater than yourself�� . . . and then don���t be attached to the outcome.���

When I read this last night in the January issue of O (Oprah) Magazine, I had one of her ���Aha!��� moments. For ���attaching myself to the outcome��� was exactly the thing I���ve always done. I���ve always been goal-oriented, driven, conscientious, competitive���nothing wrong with those traits, but when ���attaching myself to the outcome��� of my work, I create a never-ending river of rapids where, despite what I believe, I am��not in control, and in fact outside forces and circumstance are completely in control of me as I hurtle from rock to rock, place to place, every so often my head above water, but so often I���m barely able to catch my breath.

In my���

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Filed under: General Poo Dee Dah

Oprah says, “Don’t Be Attached to the Outcome . . . .” AHA! What about you and your “Goals?” . . .

katmagendie:

Lookee what I found – and this is something I really needed to re-read while going through all my stress and worry and changes and anxiety and chaotic though and insomnia – Kathryn, take your own advice, okay? Okay!

Originally posted on Kathryn Magendie:

“When you have done everything that you can do, surrender. Give yourself up to the power and energy that’s greater than yourself  . . . and then don’t be attached to the outcome.”

When I read this last night in the January issue of O (Oprah) Magazine, I had one of her “Aha!” moments. For “attaching myself to the outcome” was exactly the thing I’ve always done. I’ve always been goal-oriented, driven, conscientious, competitive—nothing wrong with those traits, but when “attaching myself to the outcome” of my work, I create a never-ending river of rapids where, despite what I believe, I am not in control, and in fact outside forces and circumstance are completely in control of me as I hurtle from rock to rock, place to place, every so often my head above water, but so often I’m barely able to catch my breath.

In my…

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Filed under: General Poo Dee Dah

Morning Coffee . . . how we create – how we write – how we don’t self edit our work because that’s the death of it

Lawd, y’all — I am behind in my posts, but insomnia has ponked me upside my peahead most undeliciously . . . so, again for now, until I can gets me shits together, I will post here the last Tuesday’s and today’s video from our Morning Coffee series. We’re moving into more “themes” here instead of random chaos, but for me it’s always about chaos – haw haw!

 

Hope you’ll join in live on Tuesday mornings at 10 ET, but you can catch us on YouTube – muwah!

Today’s ‘show’ – creating from random words – how we create – how we write – how we don’t self edit our work because that’s the death of it – and Papito joins me in my closet.

 

Last Tuesday’s “show:” where I was completely low-key – I was! believe it or not – my insomnia gripping me harder that night and thus that morning the shadow of it was all over my personality – I was actually subdued! Dang! We chatted about writing/creating about Place – Home- Geography.

 

Y’all join in now, ya hear! :D

 

 

Filed under: authors, authors and books, craft of writing, the lightning charmer, writing craft Tagged: craft of writing, kathryn magendie, poetry, prose, writing, YouTube