Tia Silverthorne Bach's Blog, page 95

Chaos and Creative Delight: ROW 80 Check In

Themaker of a sentence launches out into the infinite and builds a road into Chaosand old Night, and is followed by those who hear him with something of wild,creative delight.Ralph Waldo Emerson
I love everything about manipulating words. I enjoy crafting a story, but I also love taking words and reworking them until they sing. Or at least hum a nice tune.

I greatly appreciate words and their meanings. I've always found it odd that people say they love a hamburger and love a person. Shouldn't there be a different word for each? Shouldn't the love for food be expressed differently than the love you feel for your husband, children, or family?

The Emerson poem above caught my eye, and I was intrigued by the use of chaos and old night. Off I went in search of answers. Thanks to John Meade's Chaos and Old Night blog, I found this:

"The phrase 'Chaos and old Night' originated with John Milton in his epic poem Paradise Lost.

Sonorous mettal blowing Martial sounds:
At which the universal Host upsent
A shout that tore Hells Concave, and beyond
Frighted the Reign of Chaos and old Night (Book I; line 540-544).

Milton uses the phrase, to refer to the 'stuff' out of which God ordered and created the world."

Wow, I knew I liked this Emerson quote for good reason. Writers do take simple things and create works that can touch people or inspire.

I hope my fellow NaNoers are building something they will be proud of down the road.

My A Round of Words in 80 Days Update

Writing: Thanks to my first #ROW80 #wordsprint and the 1,065 words I wrote in that hour, I totaled 2,456 words since Wednesday's check in. Imagine if I could have fit in a couple of word sprints. Want to join? Hit Twitter Monday through Friday at 2:00pm EST and check in at #ROW80. Halfway through people update wordcounts and again at the end of the hour.

Blogging: Every day here and three times at Mom in Love with Fiction.

Miscellaneous: I need to catch up on my blog reading and NaNo ROW80 cheerleading. Hoping I can do that this week.

Exercise: I'm eating well and exercising knowing the feast is coming on Thursday! ;-)

I'm going to try to hit the writing hard this week so I can relax and have fun Thursday through Saturday for Thanksgiving. Hope all my NaNoers get far enough ahead to enjoy time with friends and family on Thanksgiving.

What's in a Name? The Meaning of Tia

I'vealways appreciated having a unique name. It's one of the reasons I named one ofmy daughters, Reagan, although it's since grown in popularity.

Mydaughter was goofing off at the computer and decided to search meanings of Tia.The results were interesting.
TIA = Transient Ischemic AttackA TIA is caused by a clot; the only differencebetween a stroke and TIA is that with TIA the blockage is transient (temporary).TIA symptoms occur rapidly and last a relatively short time. Unlike a stroke,when a TIA is over, there's no permanent injury to the brain.

TIA = Truth in AdvertisingRequirement by the Federal Trade Commission as well as variousstate and local government agencies, that advertisements not make misleading,false, or deceptive claims.

TIA = Thanks in AdvanceAnInternet/texting term

TIA = Aunt in Spanish
TIA = This is AfricaTIA was used this way in the movie, Blood Diamond.

TIA = Princess in Greek
Exceptfor the mini-stroke and Africa references, Tia suits me quite well. I believe Ipresent myself honestly (Truth in Advertising) and show gratitude (Thanks in Advance).I'm sure my husband would agree I can be a princess from time to time, and I amAunt to four nieces (number five is due in January) and three nephews.
To make my name more unique, Mom put Cher as my middle name. Why, you might ask. It's simple... she was watching The Sonny & Cher Show when she went into labor. Hey, it could be worse. I was born in 1972, and the seventies were known for some, shall we say, interesting names. *smiles*
What does you name mean? Does it suityou?

The Power of Words: Adult Bullying

So often we hear about bullying in our schools. As parents, we stand up strong and search for ways to stop it. Growing up, I always heard the children's rhyme: Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never harm me.
I beg to differ. Words can do so much more damage than a simple punch in the face. If you've ever been told you were fat, ugly, stupid, or any other myriad of words, you understand. All the words translate into a feeling of worthlessness. Sadly, we don't talk about it as much, but it doesn't stop when we become adults. http://wiglip.comMy sister, Tara, shared a really powerful story about adult bullying with me today. A man who lives near her has suffered for years at the hands of people who throw around the word fat like it doesn't hurt as much as a punch. It does. When Jerry said he considered ending his life, I broke into tears. Tara, who appears briefly in the video, works at the fitness center that has given Jerry a new lease on life. A place he can belong.Please take a moment to read the article and watch the video: Washington Man Bullied As A Teen, Bullied As An Adult. It'll break your heart, but more importantly, I hope it will make you think. Words are as powerful as punches, and the long lasting effects are much more damaging.I am a writer, I live day to day in a sea of words. I know their impact. Words - so innocent and powerless as they are, as standing in a dictionary, how potent for good and evil they become in the hands of one who knows how to combine them. Nathaniel Hawthorne
Remember to use your words nicely. If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all. Sure, it's what we tell our children, but we need to walk the walk. If our kids hear us saying mean things, all the preaching in the world won't stop them from being mean adults.

Let's stand up for the Jerrys of the world, regardless of age.

What Makes Me Swoon: From Husband to Vampires to Volleyball Players

Other than my daddy, my heart has only belonged to one man... my husband. I met him at eighteen, third day of college. Wasn't looking, but what a special find. He's handsome, because let's just be honest, you aren't initially attracted to a person's soul, but there's so much more. He's kind, considerate, smart, funny, charming, laid-back... I could go on and on. He leaves his clothes on the floor and opened chip bags laying around, but perfection is boring.

Seeing him being a dad to our three girls has only strengthened my adoration. I was fortunate to have a loving dad, and I'm glad I was able to gift my girls with the same. It takes a special man to raise girls, and he's spoiling them. They are going to be very picky about future husbands, and for that I'm also grateful.

I had a crush here and there through the teenage years, but I can't remember names or even faces. Moving around a lot will do that to you. But I do remember the following crushes vividly:

Kevin Bacon, Footloose. Never have a pair of faded denim jeans so perfectly shaped to a man's behind. I mean, man was he a good dancer.

Patrick Swayze, Dirty Dancing. I never considered dancing on the floor before that. Sad that he left us so soon. When he beckoned to Jennifer Grey by simply calling her over with his finger, I swooned.

Jason Patric, Lost Boys. The only time I've ever wanted to be Jami Gertz. Something so attractive and endearing about him. I might have dreamed about him, except I couldn't sleep for weeks after seeing that movie as a teen.

The actors in the volleyball scene of Top Gun. Although the only single time I've ever been attracted to Tom Cruise was in this movie, the volleyball scene was the best. The faces blurred, but the bodies... come to think of it, this was the only time I've been attracted to any of these actors. What happened to Val Kilmer anyway?

Tom Wopat, Dukes of Hazzard. John Schneider never did a thing for me, but I had a poster of Tom Wopat. Don't judge.

Lee Majors, Six Million Dollar Man. Handsome as he is, it was all in the eyes. He was my James Bond.

Pierce Bronson, Remington Steele. Speaking of James Bond... I feel in love over and over again with Pierce in this television series.

Bruce Willis, Moonlighting and Die Hard. I have a soft spot for funny men, and there was something very endearing about him. Then Die Hard made him sexy.

This all makes me wonder who my daughters will list someday. Just please tell me the height of their crushes will not be one of the Jonas brothers.

Who was your teenage celebrity crush?

May Be Up All Night: ROW 80 Check In

I'm posting late tonight, because today I was honored to host a giveaway and special guest post and it has kept me quite busy. A special thank you to Carrie Green for her post about Stephen King's influence on her writing and giving away copies of Roses are Red , her horror short story collection. Don't you love the cover?

I pride myself on reading all genres, but I rarely read pure horror. When I mentioned this to Carrie, she said something that's really stuck with me. She said she wrote horror from the "female perspective, it's the person sitting across from you at the dining room table that can wreck your life--not some movie monster."

I think of horror as Cujo, Carrie, Christine... all Stephen King. After reading the many comments, I realized Stephen King is also Shawshank Redemption (one of my all-time favorite movies) and The Green Mile. Not to mention the fact that I'm currently reading Stephen King's On Writing after hearing several glowing recommendations.

I may be up all night with the images conjured up by all this Stephen King talk, but I feel inspired to try a couple new books in the genre. Any recommendations? Not too gory or scary, horror light if there is such a thing. *wink*

My ROW80 update

Writing: Going well, 2000 words in the last two days. But I'm bummed I still haven't managed to join a ROW80 sprint. What is about 2pm EST that sends me running in eighteen different directions? I want to do a sprint, insert childlike whining here.

Blogging: Spending too much time on it, but enjoying it. NaBloPoMo is both encouraging and challenging. The prompts force me to write on the fly, but sometimes it's a struggle to type past the first thought. Posted another review on Mom in Love with Fiction. Overall, happy but drained.

Miscellaneous: Didn't have much time for miscellanous. It's 10:15, and I'm writing my ROW80 post, so I don't hold out much hope for hours of reading tonight. ;-( And I'm behind on blog commenting.

Sending more cheers out to my NaNo buddies. 16 days down. Wow, you guys are over the hump. You're in the home stretch now. Although I bet the 16th day of a 30 day writing month doesn't feel much like a home stretch.

Exercise: I'm squeezing it in and staying away from sugar. Not bad in a hectic week filled with sick children (today was the first day in a week all three kids managed to stay at school the whole day).

Hope everyone found words lying around waiting to be forced onto the paper!

Thank You, Stephen King: Gratitude Guest Post by Carrie Green, Author of Roses are Red

The WoMen's Literary Cafe is very thankful for all the support from readers, bloggers and reviewers during their recent 'Come Back To Me' Book Launch and #99centBookEvent. As a thank you, they organized this Gratitude Blog Hop.

I'm thrilled to be participating and welcome author, Carrie Green. She's written a wonderful post about her draw to the horror genre. We hope you enjoy it. Thanks, Carrie, for stopping by.
 ThankYou, Stephen King!

As awriter, there are many people that I'd like to thank—readers, of course, are firstand foremost.  Thank you for buying mybooks and for taking the time to post reviews. Next, like any good acceptance speech, I'd acknowledge family, friends, teachers,and lastly, a shout out to the super supportive community of authors &bloggers that I have discovered online. 

My deepest debt of gratitude, however, actually goes to the horror maestro,Stephen King. 

King was the author, beyond all others, who showcased the versatility of thehorror genre to me, which forever shaped my path as a writer.  At an early stage in every writer's career,it becomes necessary to select a genre. This is the decision which will define you, as an author, and yourbooks, as a product, from that point forward, as you strive to build anaudience.

Throughout my childhood, starting around third grade, I was a voracious readerand I devoured my books, en masse by genre. I went through periods where I read every book that I could find in aspecific genre and nothing else, until I grew bored with repetitive themes,characters and plots.  I would thenswitch to a new genre. 

In this fashion, I went from reading westerns to spy adventures, mysteries,celebrity bios, science fiction, detective, romance and horror novels.  I'd bravely walk past the main librarian's desk,so that I could enter the Adult section (there was one dour old librarian who'd barkthat I should stay in the children's area, if she saw me), passionate on mycrusade to explore all the different genres.

There were certainly some great books that I encountered—the hard-boiled detectivenovels of the 1940's were one particular stand-out, but when I finally embracedthe Stephen King collection, it was like a shining beacon went on.  I had avoided King, due to reading Carrie at the tender age of eight (sinceit kept coming up during recess).  Thatnovel was the bane of my adolescence. 

Whenever a prom or school dance was scheduled, some smart mouth would ask if Iwas intending to run for prom queen and wouldn't it be funny to toss pig'sblood at me.  Ha. Ha.  I recall while reading that book my dismay atfinding out that Carrie was such a total social outcast.  She had no redeeming traits—no charm, no goodlooks, no intellect and she hurt the very people who tried to help her. 

I couldn't appreciate, at the time, the tragedy and horror that was beingdepicted in this tale of bullies, victims, and the not-so-innocent bystanderswho allowed this cycle of abuse to continue. My main take-away was that it would be fool-hardy for me to ever run forprom queen.  I knew that it would be tootempting for my peers.  After reading Carrie, I hated Stephen King.

Only when I was in college, during a writing workshop where other people keptcomparing my writing to King's, did I become curious enough to try his books,again.  It was a revelation.  Once I was no longer reading about charactersnamed Carrie, I found him vastly entertaining! 

King showcased for me the endless possibilities, flexibility, and originalityof the horror genre.  A villain can be aserial killer (Firestarter), a lovingfather and husband (The Shining and Pet Sematary), a classic car (Christine) or a clown (It). Heroes can be just as unexpected—children, an average joe, or even aprisoner on death row as in The GreenMile series. 

One of my favorites from his more recent works has to be the untrustworthynarrator of Blaze, a petty criminalwho kidnaps a baby, who is both the hero and the villain in the novel.  It's an elegant exercise on the duality ofhuman nature.  I also adore Misery. It is both a great horror novel and a wonderful stand-alone romance (inthe chapters that resurrect the character of Misery).  I could not imagine a more unlikely genrecoupling, but King appeared to pull it off with ease.

I must sincerely thank King for teaching me, through his published works, thatthe horror genre, above all others, can be any genre.  It offers the greatest flexibility, sincehorror can be found in any situation and seen through the eyes of anycharacter.  It offers infinitefreedom.  I am only limited by my own imagination!

For more information about Carrie and her books, please visit her Amazon Author page .
Today, Wednesday, November 16th only, leave a comment below and receive a FREE copy of Carrie's collection of horror short stories, 'Roses are Red.' Please provide your email address in order to be sent a PDF link as well as a Smashwords code to download your FREE book.  Thanks!

Please visit these other stops on the Gratitude Blog Hop so that you can win additional FREE books:

Rocky Mountain High

Today's NaBloPoMo prompt: describe a favorite place. Focuson how that place affects your sense of taste, touch, sight, sound, or smell.

Hands down, my favorite place is Colorado. The firstlocation I ever wanted to call home. Thecommunity I lived in, near Boulder, was amazing. Great people, convenient,focused on family fun and sports, little to no traffic… great for families. Weloved it. Outside the crazy weather patterns from time to time, I dare say it'salmost perfect.

I never thought snow was beautiful until I saw it toppingthe Rockies. Never one for the outdoors, Colorado quickly changed my mind. The sceneryis breathtaking, aided by sun shining 300 days a year.
Most of the sounds and smells are from people gathering.Neighborhood picnics, sporting events, walking along Pearl Street Mall inBoulder, hearing kids play. Rarely were we inside. Even something as simple asa stroll to school took on new meaning, and every day there I gainedappreciation for nature and beauty.
Colorado will now be our home away from home, but a homejust the same.
Is therea place that beckons your senses, calls you home?
 ***** Pleasestop by tomorrow, November 16th, to participate in the Gratitude Blog Hop. The WoMen's LiteraryCafe wants to thank all the bloggers, reviewers, and readers for their support during the 'Come Back To Me' book launch and 99 cent event. Tomorrow, for oneday only, several authors will be offering FREE eBooks.

I am honored to host Carrie Green tomorrow with a wonderful guest post: Thank you, Stephen King! Carrie writes horror stories from the "female perspective, it's the person sitting across from you at the dining room table that can wreck your life--not some movie monster."

For moreinformation, please visit The WoMen's Literary Cafewebsite.

Death, DC Traffic, and Public Speaking

Dancing on national television definitely describes my definition of fear. In addition to not being gifted with dancing feet, I am terrified to speak in public, much less perform. Not the greatest fear to have as a published author.

Speaking in small groups, twenty or less, I can do. It feels personal. It's a whole different matter if I have to stand up front. To combat my shaking hands, I'm a walker. I'll pace back and forth while I speak. But this does nothing to squelch nervous energy. God forbid there's a podium, and I'm expected to deliver a speech. Off the cuff is fine, delivering a speech feels like performing. My hands shake so bad, each time I turn a page of my speech the page does its own kind of dance.

Yet, I don't give into this fear. I've spoken to larger and larger groups since  Depression Cookies  came out. I'd love to say it gets easier. I can't. Nausea still rises and the hands still shake. But I have gained confidence that I won't die. It's progress.

My biggest fear... losing people I care about. I'm very fortunate so far, because my parents are both living (and youngsters in their early 60's). I loved my grandparents, but we only saw them once a year my whole life. I was sad when they passed, but more for my parent's loss than my own. I can't imagine the day I lose one of my parents, sisters, husband, or the unthinkable... one of my children. Sadly, this fear is one I will have to face and overcome some day. But in no way do I look forward to it.

I'm also terrified of DC traffic. I grew up in small towns. Rush hour occurred only during major town events or high school football games. I do not drive on the beltway if I can help it. I would need to take an aggressive driving course to have a fighting chance. It amazes me. Do people not get it? Frustrated drivers weaving in and out, going over the speed limit, are responsible for an object that can kill people. A frustrated, impatient person waving a gun would be arrested. Drivers, rarely. I face this fear only when there's no other way. I carry precious cargo in my car, and I can't drive safely enough to counteract the insanity.

Someday, if I'm ever so fortunate, I'll have a career-changing speech in Washington, DC requiring me to drive the beltway in rush hour. I'll do it, but I'll need a friendly doctor to take pity and prescribe Valium. Lots of it.

What are you afraid of? How do you overcome it?

Feeding My Soul Feeds My Writing: ROW80 Check In

I wrote this post twenty minutes ago only to lose it to some young hands playing on my computer. I had a small heart attack, tried to recover it... but it was gone. Completely wiped away. This will teach me to type directly into blogger. I wanted to cry, but I decided to pick myself up and try again. Here it is, rewritten to the best of my panicked ability.

*****
Yesterday was a cleaning-writing marathon. I made a deal with my family. Work on Saturday, play on Sunday. At first, they were uninspired. But I told them I would alternate between cleaning and writing, get it done and focus on them. It worked. Everybody chipped in, divided up chores, and the house is pretty darn clean. And I wrote quite a bit to boot.

Today, I ran a 5K with my 9-year-old daughter. I love one-on-one time and proving to her she can accomplish anything she sets her mind to. After, we joined the rest of the family for a well-deserved lunch followed by a trip to a bead festival. Each girl spent $9 and walked away with a one of a kind piece of jewelry. They were thrilled. It was a lovely day. Worth every second of our manic Saturday. Feeding my soul, spending time with those I love, truly feeds my writing.

Plus, the day came with a precious story. My 6-year-old daughter was modeling her new necklace when a nice salesperson asked if she'd like to see herself. She bounced over to collect the 5x7 mirror.

Me: Please be careful, you don't want to break the mirror.
Daughter: Why?
Me: Because you'll get seven years of bad luck.
Daughter: Who said that?
Me: It's a superstition, something people just believe.
Daughter, after thinking for a second: Well, I don't believe it. You want me to try it and find out?

The nice lady behind the desk gently took the mirror away. I love my daughter's spunk, but it can sometimes be a bit embarrassing.

*****
A brief ROW80 update

Writing: Inspired. Wrote quite a bit just on Saturday. I need to polish up some edges, but in a good place. I didn't keep track of words, but I'm proud of the progress.

Blogging: Thanks to NaBloPoMo, I've blogged here daily. Yesterday, I posted a fun piece about superstitions with some help from Mom and finally posted my Henrietta Lacks review on Mom in Love with Fiction. I look forward to adding another 5 star review, Melissa Luznicky Garrett's wonderful Turning Point, on Tuesday.

Commenting on blogs: Keeping up pretty well, but I want to get around to more of my NaNo friends and do some cheerleading. Rah, Rah! Hope everyone is doing well.

Miscellaneous: Still reading, but having to put it aside for some editing projects. I love what I'm working on, so it's like reading. I'm a few pages into Stephen King's On Writing and hope to make some progress this week.

Exercise: Still no sugar. Although I must admit I wanted a lot of it when my post went missing. I resisted. Exercise is going well, including the 5K today.

All in all, a nice week. I even wrote this post twice, so that's got to say something!

Check out some great writers, and fellow A Round of Words in 80 Days participants, here.

Break Your Mother's Back: Superstitions Part Two

After posting about superstitions yesterday, I couldn't stop thinking about nonsensical things I do. It's time for complete honesty... I might be more superstitious than I first reported.
Signs I'm More superstitious Than I Thought

I raise my feet when driving over train tracks.
I've done this my whole life, and I don't even know why. I called Mom for the answer. I'm so mad. Mom told me it's because of circulation problems. Are you kidding me? That's not superstition, but it sure is a bit crazy. Guess I'll stop until I get old enough to have circulation issues.

I Say, "Bread and Butter."
Another one learned from Mom. When you are walking with a loved one and a physical object comes between you, say a tree or lamppost, you must both say, "bread and butter." If you don't, you will be separated in life. My children say it (after hearing me say it so much), but my husband never does. We have been married almost 17 years. So far, so good.

I hold my breath and make a wish when driving over a bridge.
Technically, you make a wish going over a bridge in one direction. When you travel back over said bridge, you have to hold your breath. You only get your wish if you don't exhale. Since we'd often only go over a bridge one way, I combined it and now hold my breath and wish at the same time. Haven't kept data on those wishes. One guess where this came from?

I never answer if I hear my name called in the middle of the night.
It's the voice of death calling. Again, blame Mom. This was particularly difficult when I had kids. A simple call of, "Mom" could send chills down my spine. I'd shake hubby. He'd answer. He's a brave man. And he's still with us.

I'll never own a weeping willow.
Why? You guessed it, Mom. According to her, once a weeping willow grows tall enough to cast a shadow, the shadow marks the place of your burial. Creepy.

Mom also used to say when you got chills, it was someone walking over your future grave site. Seriously, this woman is responsible for most of my childhood nightmares. She has one vivid imagination.

Did you see a theme above? I don't know what I believe or don't believe. Things learned in our youth can be so powerful. One thing I know for sure, my mom is one superstitious lady.

And I'm passing it on. My children never go anywhere without watching cracks. It started as a fun game and grew into something I can't control. Although I appreciate their concern for my back, I completely lose patience in a store with small tiles.

My kids also hold their breath when we pass a graveyard. Can't blame my mom for this one, a friend's mom told them. I think she's brilliant. Do you know how many times I've considered pulling to the side of the road next to a graveyard for a few seconds of peace and quiet? I figure I can keep driving once they've all passed out.

Side note: When I called mom for clarification about the above, she told me it's knock three times on wood. "Knocking once won't do anything about a hex." One more. Never sew a stitch from the shoulder to the neck because it leaves an evil pin mark on that end. Always go from the neck to the shoulder, so you don't pierce the spirit.

She says this all comes from our Acadian side, a superstitious group who refused to bend their beliefs and was exiled. Then ended up in Louisiana and became known as Cajuns. Their blood flows in ours. I always learn something when I call Mom, and I call Mom a lot.

Is there any ritual you do without even thinking? Who's to blame responsible?