Caroline Gerardo's Blog, page 43

Organize your XXXX in Word Files

Organize the Outhouse of my Mind


In a fuddle this morning. Need to clean out, throw away and start new.

 "If a thing can be done adequately by means of one, it is superfluous to do it by means of several; for we observe that nature does not employ two instruments [if] one suffices." Thomas Aquinas











Finished the first draft of next novel, working title Eco Terrorist. I might call her Soothsayer, but that leads to another story further taking me off point. I am giving the book a rest for a week. Working on short fiction that needs polishing after a cold trip. Organizing and planning back at home today. The wind rocked the house something wild last night. Electric charges from the dry ions are irritating my muse. My sweet gum trees in the front in painted blaze have thrown their souls all over the canyon.  One mess of crimson, rust and magenta is in the bottom of my pool and the gutters towards the ocean.



After travelling this week to Canada I want to thank again all the wonderful people who were supportive and amazing open, giving, and participated in the performances. Poetry is alive and well. I met college students, teens, bikers, cowboys, and truck drivers who are now part of my family.



Returning to my messy mind, I ask those Santa Ana winds for solutions. Does anyone else have this stupid problem? I save a file in Word and give it a title, next I add a numerical date, but other copies of the same file duplicate as a) Backup of xyz title  and b)xyz title with similar date and c) I might have a word doc a worddocx an HTML and some other copies of the same file. I attempted to merge these ten pieces but it is frustrating to the point of crazy making. There must be a better system to organize my writing.



I want to store all the poetry and flash pieces in some easy to recall order.

There are about two hundred short stories and flash fiction pieces unpublished that I need to edit down and keep clean copies.

I also have hundreds of film clips and thousands of photographs.

I think I need a personal secretary who can live inside my computer and just talk to me when I sleep.



Time for bleach, lists, throwing away a bunch of junk and general cleanup.  I will back up all the creations into folders and put them on a seperate hard drive to open one at a time. Simplfy the work into pieces to cut copy and paste.



The photograph above is a working outhouse, I do not have one at the Wyoming ranch, but  feels like my mind today. I spare you the word (xrap) in the title.

Organize your XXXX

Organize the Outhouse of my Mind


In a fuddle this morning.



Finished the first draft of next novel, working title Eco Terrorist. I might call her Soothsayer, but that leads to another story. I am giving the book a rest for a week and working on other short fiction that needs polishing. Organizing and planning back at home today. The wind rocked the house something wild last night. My two sweet gum trees in the front in full painted blaze have thrown their souls all over the canyon.  One mess of crimson, rust and magenta is in the bottom of my pool and the gutters towards the ocean.



After travelling this week I want to thank again all the wonderful people who were supportive and amazing open, giving, and participated in the performances. Poetry is alive and well. I met college students, teens, bikers, cowboys, and truck drivers who are now part of my family.

Returning to my messy mind I ask for a solution. Does anyone else have this rather stupid problem? I save a file in Word and give it a title and now I often add a numerical date, but other copies of the same file duplicate as a) Backup of xyz title  and b)xyz title with similar date and c) I might have a word doc a worddocx an HTML and some other copies of the same file. I attempted to merge these pieces but it is frustrating to the point of crazy making.

There must be a better system to organize my writing.



I want to store all the poetry and flash pieces in some easy to recall order.

There are about two hundred short stories and flash fiction pieces unpublished that I need to edit down and keep clean copies.

I also have hundreds of film clips and thousands of photographs.

I think I need a personal secretary who can live inside my computer and just talk to me when I sleep.



Time for bleach, lists, throwing away a bunch of junk and general cleanup.



The photograph is a working outhouse, not mine, but surely feels like my mind today. I

spared you the word crap in the title.



O. K. going for a hike for a break

Christmas Book Prizes Coming Soon

 CHRISTMAS IS COMING

the goose is getting fat



In the spirit of the upcoming season I just want to tell you I am giving away free stuff.

Why are these silly monks on here? Because they are in Chapter One of The Lucky Boy.I am giving away six of these fat guys with book coupons.All you have to do is ask.

More prizes to come in the next days.Coffee prizes ( because we can't give away drugs like in the book).Perfume prizes, yes girls.Fight tickets, yes men.Maybe even some boots ( Seth steals boots in the book).They won't be Santa Boots.

Rules coming soon.Maybe no rules at all just participate.I just hope Santa gets my book printed on time.Snoopie happy dance.

Shadow's Murder at Connyland

Shadow's Murder at Connyland





Rain on crystals of the chandelier.

The shards slip on my woolly sweater.

Oatmeal raisin as the smell of wet sheep.

Humans sell birdbaths with heaters.

Swiss partiers murdered Shadow,

by driving nails in her inner ear

pounded by careless lovers,

look away when striking,

ignore their emails.

Salt water freezes

at negative twenty-one.

A stranger carried my box of books

to the finish line for free with ice breath smile.

While you shrug off the shame of snowflakes so they won't stain.

Can a dolphin thaw from the terror of methanphetamine in the tank?



Copyright © Caroline Gerardo 11/29/2011





http://www.change.org/petitions/dolphins-die-after-rave-at-connyland









Turmeric Birthday Cake

Aspen WombJoy grows inside me.

20 years of Mom choices.

The back of the earrings lost.

The clapper located your keys.

Now I map my way.

Write your own plan well.

Unlimited by constraints of time,

the sieve between life and death.

The moment when golden light hits

Tuscan monstrosity across the canyon.

Don't look that way-

Reach past the aspen grove dancing.

Fly upon that last single leaf towards ocean,

where slivers of seaweed touch shoulders as

swimming towards turmeric islands.

Copyright Caroline Gerardo 11/26/2011

 I'll pull if you need help.

On this birthday fly and touch the sun.






Copyright Caroline Gerardo all rights reserved for photographs, video, flash poetry and sound

For my daughter Blair's birthday 11/26/2011

Friend Poetry

Facebook Friends



Joan Pond sent me this short poem on Facebook.

 Below is my response.





I saw the sign on the pole.



Missing sofa--- please call.

I envisioned some grand settee,

off on a journey.

Its wooden legs

... taking it cross town.

Had it been unhappy at home?

If they'd known, would therapy have helped?

Perhaps a furniture intervention.

Psychologists would say,

re-upholstering could bolster the ego.

It's sad when furniture

suddenly goes astray.         Copyright 2011 Joan Pond Please go to Facebook to see her photograph "I saw the sign on the pole."https://www.facebook.com/#!/photo.php?fbid=10150419281162645&set=p.10150419281162645&type=1



...



Photograph is different on Facebook if you want to go look at the thread

"My Sofa"

His name was Sofa

The chenille of his mane

brushes lonely and skinny.

Wishing changes life.

A basket of granny smiths arrives

early and crunchy in the morning,

he won't run away.  

Copyright 11/24/2011 Caroline Gerardo    Please supply your response or flash fiction and join in.

Sean Quinn's Gravestone Curse

Sean Quinn lost a fortune to fairies. Ballyconnell is the same as America. Dead frozen between bankruptcy or cliff edge with a windsock for wings. Dangles pumped air with no hands from a generator. Dancing, deflated, with 15000 quid remaining. Detergent under fingernails sticks to ideas.

Why fly on dandelion seed puffs?When I am in motion I am fearless. Damn now I don't have the cash for children's toys. Do Lacrosse sticks cost $900, may as well be a divining rods, Driving to magic places where water, oil and diamonds spring, without using children's arms as guinea pigs for mining. Drank Miss Dior perfume when moving a megalithic gravestone?

Broken Doorbell

    Made it to 53900 words on the current novel. The point of view changed. Almost through the door to the finish line. Please do not ring my doorbell or pull my chain, I am not answering right now.

   This was such a struggle in Toxic Assets, as I wrote the first and second revision in first person. Then after two readers complained about the point of view, calling it a contemporary fu-fu style. I changed it and then editing became this voice in my head nightmare. I am going to use a literary trick and switch the middle half of the book that is written in second person over the shoulder of the eco-terrorist, and then the first person narrative will be the ending. Not as flashbacks, I need to use something else, not certain what that will unfold.

    In my last book I wrote in beats or poetry scenes like a movie. This one is written in another method. I'm intrigued by the story location and that this one is more of a thriller. My lead and heroine is fifty something, I may need to make her younger to be realistically able to complete the athletic actions she takes. Writing this post very fast as time is so valuable with doing Nanowrimo my goal is to be finished on the 24th.

     Take a look in the photograph, there are lucky horseshoes on the door, a common western theme. I had expected to have The Lucky Boy Advance Reader copies in my hands yesterday, but UPS left a delivery slip- I guess I didn't hear them. If you want to review, contact me and I will send a copy.

   I apologize if I have not been very present in my usual promoting others but I am very focused on creating new work and the muse is singing all over the place. Do this Do that hurry up and scat.





Showtimes for the Novel

     I have kept pace with my goals for Nanowrimo. My word count this morning at 4:55 AM is 25608. There are a number of these writer meetings and mini contests that I can't get my head around, and don't understand how they help in getting the first draft completed. By the time I read the rules of these special mini stunts or drive to the event the learning curve would distract me from my goal - Plan being to get a first draft done this month.

    Meanwhile, life seems to not want to cooperate with my lists and writing targets, melodrama in my personal life stirs up trouble.

     What problem do I describe first?

      After purposely being single for a year I met this special man. It remains to be seen how great he is. He is hibernating in a quandary.

      Needless to say, I have not signed on to Facebook because I feel I must change my status back to single. When I switched it to "in a relationship" I had no idea the information was publicly displayed. Friends commented in happy support. This surprised me, how many around me cared enough to read some little sign of my status. What is that quote, hmm, "There's going to be a hoo-too tonight so stay in your hut."  I was biding time for some show of better fortune or turn of events but this morning I need to move on. I am going to hang my status back to solitary. A strange thing happened in the brief time of being both feet back into an "us" all these men came out of the cracks interested in me. I think there is something about being unavailable that puts a flag up signalling, "come on down."

    Other melodramas in my life- we discovered someone broke in the house and stole Blair's camera and some personal items. The burglary gives me an uneasy feeling, as we speculate who is the creeper.

I have my novel The Lucky Boy up early on Amazon. http://www.amazon.com/The-Lucky-Boy-ebook/dp/B0064FOCZO/ref=sr_1_6?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1321103305&sr=1-6The paperback won't be available until November 18th. If you are reading this please go to the Amazon link and check the tags or write a review in support. The baby needs new shoes. I promise there's not going to be a hanging in an hour, unless you fail me and don't buy my book.



Unsent Letter

You + Me Aspen Tree
   I wanted to tell you a list of things. Call this a love letter of sorts. I can't send it but I can write it as flash fiction, not poetry. This is a casual note you might find in your pocket.



   The testsare back on the roof tiles. There is no lead, my design plan for rain gutters to gather enough water for a garden, sun shower and the whole budget is less than $2100 in materials. Adding water that is previously untapped and free feels independent, that is how I would describe it to you in a bouncing up and down Charlie Brown Christmas dance.



   I keep you in my prayers now when rain showers seem to cross my path. This incredible rainbow popped this afternoon. I asked Him to make you my Superman, the strong man who leads.



   Four of the poems and paintings I made for you of your ranch are complete. They are missing the magic. The images give a glimpse of the wonder.



   I regret one thing, not writing our initials in a tree. I needed your permission to make that leap.



   The aspens whispered to me. Remember I asked your ancestors connected to sing a little and let go a few golden leaves, they cooperated so merrily. They saw my dangerous heart. It gives everything and loves forever. Though this is problematic, with no way to turn it off when attacked. I learned to stay apart from those who cause harm, not to stop caring.



   The Doctor said my arrhythmia is worse than last time I was tested. You didn't ask how the results of the EKG, stress tests, and blood work came out.



   The final draft of the paper book of The Lucky Boy is done, even have the ISPN number just waiting on the cover blurbs for the back. I am hopeful for the future.



   I'm writing for Nanowrimo, and you would make that funny face not recalling what it is- write a whole novel in the month of November. Today I made it to 14201 words since the first. This is makes me feel strong and I wanted to share all with you. But you are gone. Not a far as my father now dead twelve years, I still talk to him in my dreams. I need a tape recorder for my brain when sleeping to remember what he tells me.



                  Today I feel filled with grace and joy sending you this hug to share.



Love,



C. G.