L.M. Long's Blog, page 19
September 19, 2013
Movies Aren't History
by H. Linn Murphy
I came home from last night's high school open house greatly disturbed. I'd gone to do battle with an extremely confrontational teacher. I came home from that bout feeling like I needed a shower.
I was concerned that the teacher was taking huge amounts of points away from my son's grade for wretched reasons--which is still the case. She refuses to recant on items which are not in any way my son's fault. Apparently, if she fixed his grade, she'd have to fix all the others' (not a bad idea, actually). I wanted to whack her with a frying pan (especially after she called me scatterbrained).
However, it quickly became apparent that her mercenary grading system was not the main problem. What she actually wanted to talk about was why I wouldn't let my son watch R-rated movies (Shindler's List to name one). I told her that we don't allow our children to watch R-rated movies. I indicated that there were far better movies about the Holocaust.
"Why can't they watch THE HIDING PLACE by Corrie Ten Boom or the Diary of Anne Frank?" I asked.
She smirked at me and said, "Welllllll those movies just don't hold enough punch. I want the movies to punch the kids right in the face."
I had to mentally rein myself in by this time from punching her right in the face.
"What if I don't want my children punched?" I asked. "I've actually been to Dachau. I've smelled the stench that still hangs over the place. I've walked between the barracks foundations. I've felt evil so potent it made me want to barf. And I've described all of this to my children. That's as much face-punching as I ever want them to have."
"Well why don't you watch the movie and let me know." Still that smirk.
Condescending much? I thought. "Nobody at our house watches R-rated movies."
"Then how do you know you don't want your children watching it if you haven't seen it yourself?"
How indeed? I couldn't continue. After a point people are past feeling and there is nothing to do but jump out of the plane and hope your parachute works.
I left her with this: "I hope you understand that I will continue to do battle for my children."
"Oh I wouldn't have it any other way," she said. I'm certain she thinks she won. I, however, know everyone is losing.
So now she's warned. I'm taking it to the school board. This is ridiculous. These teachers think that watching a Hollywood version of some story will accurately show how it was then. I say, "Fie on you! Don't you realize Hollywood sensationalizes everything to sell movies?" Everything is sexier, more violent, raunchier, and more depraved. Smut sells.
How long has it been since they did movies without these hooks? It's lucky that Jane Austen's movies have remained fairly intact. It'll be interesting to see how far Austenland goes without the sex which seems to be the only thing they'll show.
I can't count the number of movies I've seen which completely slanted the story or reported absolute lies. Two different movies can slant things vastly different ways. The other day we watched a Snow White movie. Gone was Disney's cute little princess who needed the prince. Gone was the young girl with such virtue and gentleness that all those around her loved her.
This Snow White version had nothing about goodness in it. The dwarfs found nothing to inspire loyalty in the girl. And the prince was such a side note that people found themselves hoping she'd hook up with the huntsman.
What?
So this is what the movie is really selling:
*Violence is good if you're hot.
*It's okay to be a wretched person because someone did something mean to you when you were little.
*Women don't need guys for anything but to admire them from afar and stand around until they're needed.
*Women can fight better than men even though men had to train their whole lives to prepare.
*Fathers and Mothers are an over-touted nuisance and ineffectual at best.
That is just from one movie. I'm certain there are further nuances I missed.
And those are just the entertainment-oriented movies. What lies are the other movies spinning us? It seems to me that the aim is to pick apart the fabric of history and re-weave it into something a real history buff can't even recognize. That, my friends, is called propaganda. It is the deliberate insertion of lies and half-truths in order to change the mindset of this upcoming generation. Ask anyone from an Iron Curtain country about propaganda.
No. My children will not be watching Shindler's List, or any other package of garbage dressed up and primped and pushed on our children in the name of education. If she insists on showing movies of that sort, I will make such a stench that she will think she hit a skunk on the road.
I'm on my way to the Principal's office to see if I can find a better teacher for my son--one who can actually stand children and wants to teach them real history. I'm thinking I won't find that until he comes home to me.
I came home from last night's high school open house greatly disturbed. I'd gone to do battle with an extremely confrontational teacher. I came home from that bout feeling like I needed a shower.
I was concerned that the teacher was taking huge amounts of points away from my son's grade for wretched reasons--which is still the case. She refuses to recant on items which are not in any way my son's fault. Apparently, if she fixed his grade, she'd have to fix all the others' (not a bad idea, actually). I wanted to whack her with a frying pan (especially after she called me scatterbrained).
However, it quickly became apparent that her mercenary grading system was not the main problem. What she actually wanted to talk about was why I wouldn't let my son watch R-rated movies (Shindler's List to name one). I told her that we don't allow our children to watch R-rated movies. I indicated that there were far better movies about the Holocaust."Why can't they watch THE HIDING PLACE by Corrie Ten Boom or the Diary of Anne Frank?" I asked.
She smirked at me and said, "Welllllll those movies just don't hold enough punch. I want the movies to punch the kids right in the face."
I had to mentally rein myself in by this time from punching her right in the face.
"What if I don't want my children punched?" I asked. "I've actually been to Dachau. I've smelled the stench that still hangs over the place. I've walked between the barracks foundations. I've felt evil so potent it made me want to barf. And I've described all of this to my children. That's as much face-punching as I ever want them to have."
"Well why don't you watch the movie and let me know." Still that smirk.
Condescending much? I thought. "Nobody at our house watches R-rated movies."
"Then how do you know you don't want your children watching it if you haven't seen it yourself?"
How indeed? I couldn't continue. After a point people are past feeling and there is nothing to do but jump out of the plane and hope your parachute works.
I left her with this: "I hope you understand that I will continue to do battle for my children."
"Oh I wouldn't have it any other way," she said. I'm certain she thinks she won. I, however, know everyone is losing.
So now she's warned. I'm taking it to the school board. This is ridiculous. These teachers think that watching a Hollywood version of some story will accurately show how it was then. I say, "Fie on you! Don't you realize Hollywood sensationalizes everything to sell movies?" Everything is sexier, more violent, raunchier, and more depraved. Smut sells.
How long has it been since they did movies without these hooks? It's lucky that Jane Austen's movies have remained fairly intact. It'll be interesting to see how far Austenland goes without the sex which seems to be the only thing they'll show.
I can't count the number of movies I've seen which completely slanted the story or reported absolute lies. Two different movies can slant things vastly different ways. The other day we watched a Snow White movie. Gone was Disney's cute little princess who needed the prince. Gone was the young girl with such virtue and gentleness that all those around her loved her.
This Snow White version had nothing about goodness in it. The dwarfs found nothing to inspire loyalty in the girl. And the prince was such a side note that people found themselves hoping she'd hook up with the huntsman.
What?
So this is what the movie is really selling:
*Violence is good if you're hot.
*It's okay to be a wretched person because someone did something mean to you when you were little.
*Women don't need guys for anything but to admire them from afar and stand around until they're needed.
*Women can fight better than men even though men had to train their whole lives to prepare.
*Fathers and Mothers are an over-touted nuisance and ineffectual at best.
That is just from one movie. I'm certain there are further nuances I missed.
And those are just the entertainment-oriented movies. What lies are the other movies spinning us? It seems to me that the aim is to pick apart the fabric of history and re-weave it into something a real history buff can't even recognize. That, my friends, is called propaganda. It is the deliberate insertion of lies and half-truths in order to change the mindset of this upcoming generation. Ask anyone from an Iron Curtain country about propaganda.
No. My children will not be watching Shindler's List, or any other package of garbage dressed up and primped and pushed on our children in the name of education. If she insists on showing movies of that sort, I will make such a stench that she will think she hit a skunk on the road.
I'm on my way to the Principal's office to see if I can find a better teacher for my son--one who can actually stand children and wants to teach them real history. I'm thinking I won't find that until he comes home to me.
September 16, 2013
Who's Under Your Bus?
by Michelle Wilson
Writing is like driving a bus. (You ready for this one?)
You've got this great and powerful vehicle that can carry anyone you want to anyplace you want.
With fiction, you can take your reader to, not only new places on earth, but to other worlds. You can open them up to the mysteries of an unknown universe and time, or unlock the secrets of the heart of the woman who lives next door.
As a writer, you are the driver. You decide where you will go and who you want to take.
You also decide who is under your bus.
My mom bought me a t-shirt that says, "Be nice to me, or you might end up in my novel." I've talked to a few writers who have found great satisfaction in killing off an ex-boyfriend in their books. In the novel I just finished, I based one of the (annoying) antagonists on the ex-wife of one of my beta readers. He quite enjoys critiquing my book. Lol.
In fiction it's not too bad to throw people under our literary bus. Sometimes it's fun. And most times it is harmless.
But, non-fiction is different.
You might think you're not a non-fiction writer, but if you've ever written in a journal, a blog post, a Facebook status, a Twitter tweet, a letter to a friend, a talk in church, you have written non-fiction.
As I wrote my women's inspirational non-fiction book, "Does This Insecurity Make Me Look Fat?" (which is available for preorder now here through Deseret Book, with a release date this December 30th. Excited and unapologetic plug here!) I was careful at not only where I was 'driving my bus,' but over whom I didn't want to drive it over: my kids.
As moms we tend to commiserate one with another. As moms who write, we do it in print. As moms who write who also network via blogs and Facebook and Twitter, etc, we do it in print in front of everyone.
In my book I shared some stories of the struggles I've had as a woman and a mom, and much of it has been done with humor. But, I've tried to be very cognizant of how much I share and in what flavor I share some of the trials I've experienced via my children. I don't want my children to read anything I've written with embarrassment or regret.
It's important to remember that as we share our lessons and experiences, we do it in such a way that we don't throw our kids under the bus, meaning (quite bluntly) we don't share personal things about our children that will embarrass them, demean them, or hurt them for our own benefit.
Whether it's in a book or on Facebook, we must understand and remember that our children are not little extensions of our lives, but their own persons who have the right to drive their own buses.
I have seen mothers complain, accuse, demean, even demonize, their own children for the sake of venting or sharing. True, most times these moms don't have ill-intent. We love our children dearly--even though they sometimes drive us crazy. But, they are still people. They have the right to create their own reputations, their own public identity--their own bus, without their mothers telling the world that little johnny is irresponsible, or little molly lies a lot.
I have not always been completely innocent of this.
Just a few months ago I posted a Facebook status about my teenage son that was a harmless (in my eyes) crack about how the house had been so quiet while he was gone at scout camp (with a few other details). My FB friends got a kick out of it. But what I hadn't taken into consideration was that my son was also my FB friend, and he didn't find it amusing. In fact, he was a little hurt that I would broadcast an insult for fun.
I realized I had thrown him under my bus, and I repented.
Yes, parenting is hard--really hard. But, so is being a kid and growing up in this world. Our kids should know that we are their sanctuaries--we are the safe harbor for all their faults and weaknesses. They should feel that we protect them from harm, not run over them with our bus because we are seeking support, validation, or we need to vent, or we just think it's funny.
Of course we can share, generally speaking, our thoughts and feelings- but we should always take into careful consideration how it will make them feel.
Even our little ones. Someday they will grow up to understand the things that we've said, and written, about them. How will it make them feel about themselves? How will it make them feel about us? How will it make them feel about how we feel about them? (Ask yourself that one ten times fast!)
Writing is a powerful force, a force that brings our thoughts and dreams (good and bad) into reality. We can go anywhere and do anything. We can lift up or tear down. We can spread the love or encourage criticism and hurt. We drive very powerful buses with the words we put out there.
We love our children, and wouldn't purposefully hurt them. Let's be sure we don't do it by accident, either.
Write on and drive carefully!
Writing is like driving a bus. (You ready for this one?)You've got this great and powerful vehicle that can carry anyone you want to anyplace you want.
With fiction, you can take your reader to, not only new places on earth, but to other worlds. You can open them up to the mysteries of an unknown universe and time, or unlock the secrets of the heart of the woman who lives next door.
As a writer, you are the driver. You decide where you will go and who you want to take.
You also decide who is under your bus.
My mom bought me a t-shirt that says, "Be nice to me, or you might end up in my novel." I've talked to a few writers who have found great satisfaction in killing off an ex-boyfriend in their books. In the novel I just finished, I based one of the (annoying) antagonists on the ex-wife of one of my beta readers. He quite enjoys critiquing my book. Lol.
In fiction it's not too bad to throw people under our literary bus. Sometimes it's fun. And most times it is harmless.
But, non-fiction is different.
You might think you're not a non-fiction writer, but if you've ever written in a journal, a blog post, a Facebook status, a Twitter tweet, a letter to a friend, a talk in church, you have written non-fiction.As I wrote my women's inspirational non-fiction book, "Does This Insecurity Make Me Look Fat?" (which is available for preorder now here through Deseret Book, with a release date this December 30th. Excited and unapologetic plug here!) I was careful at not only where I was 'driving my bus,' but over whom I didn't want to drive it over: my kids.
As moms we tend to commiserate one with another. As moms who write, we do it in print. As moms who write who also network via blogs and Facebook and Twitter, etc, we do it in print in front of everyone.
In my book I shared some stories of the struggles I've had as a woman and a mom, and much of it has been done with humor. But, I've tried to be very cognizant of how much I share and in what flavor I share some of the trials I've experienced via my children. I don't want my children to read anything I've written with embarrassment or regret.
It's important to remember that as we share our lessons and experiences, we do it in such a way that we don't throw our kids under the bus, meaning (quite bluntly) we don't share personal things about our children that will embarrass them, demean them, or hurt them for our own benefit.
Whether it's in a book or on Facebook, we must understand and remember that our children are not little extensions of our lives, but their own persons who have the right to drive their own buses.
I have seen mothers complain, accuse, demean, even demonize, their own children for the sake of venting or sharing. True, most times these moms don't have ill-intent. We love our children dearly--even though they sometimes drive us crazy. But, they are still people. They have the right to create their own reputations, their own public identity--their own bus, without their mothers telling the world that little johnny is irresponsible, or little molly lies a lot.
I have not always been completely innocent of this.Just a few months ago I posted a Facebook status about my teenage son that was a harmless (in my eyes) crack about how the house had been so quiet while he was gone at scout camp (with a few other details). My FB friends got a kick out of it. But what I hadn't taken into consideration was that my son was also my FB friend, and he didn't find it amusing. In fact, he was a little hurt that I would broadcast an insult for fun.
I realized I had thrown him under my bus, and I repented.
Yes, parenting is hard--really hard. But, so is being a kid and growing up in this world. Our kids should know that we are their sanctuaries--we are the safe harbor for all their faults and weaknesses. They should feel that we protect them from harm, not run over them with our bus because we are seeking support, validation, or we need to vent, or we just think it's funny.
Of course we can share, generally speaking, our thoughts and feelings- but we should always take into careful consideration how it will make them feel.Even our little ones. Someday they will grow up to understand the things that we've said, and written, about them. How will it make them feel about themselves? How will it make them feel about us? How will it make them feel about how we feel about them? (Ask yourself that one ten times fast!)
Writing is a powerful force, a force that brings our thoughts and dreams (good and bad) into reality. We can go anywhere and do anything. We can lift up or tear down. We can spread the love or encourage criticism and hurt. We drive very powerful buses with the words we put out there.
We love our children, and wouldn't purposefully hurt them. Let's be sure we don't do it by accident, either.
Write on and drive carefully!
September 12, 2013
Back to School means Back to Homework
Hi, my name is Dorine White and this is my first post for mommy bloggers. I am an author of children's fantasy books and have six children of my own. My other blog focuses on children's books, reviews and publishing, so I wanted to join a group that also focuses on the mom aspect of my life.Today's post is about my ponderings on homework. Every year my children get different teachers with different approaches to homework. My oldest is a senior in high school and my youngest is in pre-school, so I run the gambit on grade levels. I've come to some interesting conclusions over the years, and I thought I'd share.
First off, I don't think homework is for every child. I have one kid that comes home, does their homework and finishes lickity-split. I have another that loves homework and thrives on good grades, and then I have one with ADHD who comes home, can't stand the idea of more school and only finishes about 1/4 of every take home assignment. Unfortunately teachers can't tailor homework for each and every child, it is a whole class or nothing deal.
So, I often run into teachers that believe in homework or don't. Over the years I've gone over to the dark side and now believe in the no homework approach. Part of the reason is because the school day is so long. The teachers have 6 hours to teach my child, and by the time my elementary school kids get home it is often after 4 pm. The day is mostly done, they get a little time to play, watch tv, eat dinner. Adding lengthy homework to the mix is stressful for them. They feel like they don't get a break. I can't even imagine going to work all day, coming home and then doing more business work. My husband does that and it is awful. Kids need to have time too. Plus, if there is an extra activity in your child's life, such as scouts or sports, then the time is completely gone. 3/4 of their day is school. I want those last few hours for them to do the things they enjoy.
I make exceptions for projects and essays. Those things are take home assignments and as kids go off to college and into the world they'll need those skills. But, I don't think they need more handouts about what they just spent all day studying. If something didn't get finished in school, sure, send it home. But, if it is just more excess, don't burden my child.
For my high schoolers, it is a different story. They do need homework, but just not as much as they receive. Each class seems to think they are the only class in my child's life and sends home an hour each. Hello, with 7 periods that's well into the night. How many of our kids stay up to 1 am just to finish that last assignment? I love schools that have connected teachers that work together to limit homework to only an hour or two each night. As my kids have gotten older, they've often added more things to their plates. They are in school plays, mock trial, band, school sports, etc. I often don't see them after school until the evening because they had practice after school. Then they come home, eat dinner and do hours of homework. Ugh! I feel their stress.
I think back to my days in school and remember the AP and Honor classes that took up my time. How did I fit it all in? As a parent I see my children struggling to balance their time and wish that I could just stamp out some of their homework as unnecessary.
What do other moms out there think? Did I get you thinking? Then I did my job, whether you agree with me or not. And FYI, I did get a degree involving secondary education, so I'm looking at both sides.
September 9, 2013
The Quest Box
Not too long ago I sent away for some free samples. They were a new brand of energy bar, Quest bars to be specific. The flavors sounded interesting, so I thought, “What the heck?” What I got in the mail was an overheated black box containing my (now withered) samples. Yeah, Arizona summers are not conducive to heat sensitive mail. On the outside printed in red and white, in all caps, it read,“You say yes when others say no. You rise while others sleep. You are better today than you were yesterday. You do what others will not. You control your destiny. You are intense. You are obsessed. You are not normal. You are on a quest. Never stop.”
I love this box. I have no recollection of the samples from within, my children made short work of them despite their sun stroked condition, but the box is now a permanent fixture of my writing space. I am not sure what enamored me to it so quickly, but it is a prized possession. Maybe the, “you are,” statements function as mini affirmations for me each day. It reminds me that even when all I feel like doing is sipping my unseasonable hot chocolate in front of a film adaptation of an Austen novel, I have stories of my own demanding attention, plot holes to be filled and paved, characters that just want someone to talk to. Whatever it is, the fact that there was a company willing me to greatness regardless of what I thought (or didn’t even get a chance to think) about their product endeared me to the packaging.
Perhaps its greatest assertion, “You are on a quest,” is what really piqued my interest. It prods me to ask, “yes, but what kind of quest?”
Am I on a quest to be published? I don’t think so. Having had my first tiny taste of publication and the immense workload it brings, I’m pretty sure that’s not what I’m after. I’m not really comfortable talking about my writing in public forums, it’s such a personal thing. I really try to right for myself, to write the things that interest me. I certainly don’t expect fame or fortune, and I hope to avoid any form of infamy.
I think I might just be on the quest to find the most interesting story, maybe even the one tale that’s missing from my life. My day is so full, so complete in many ways that chasing stories and characters and themes is one of the few avenues of self-discovery still open to me. When the mortgage must be paid, the children fed/dressed/cleaned/taught, the yard weeded, and the billion other things that make up living in America in the 21stcentury, the mind can become one of the last places for real conquest, challenge, triumph. Perhaps it is silly, and really just evidence of being a packrat at heart, but I’m not parting with this little box of cardboard. Like another rather infamous article it contains my hope for what writing will be for me: a source of joy, a source of wonder, a refuge from life’s hurts and struggles. Yes, I am on a quest, to never stop.How about you? What are you questing for?
September 5, 2013
Day In, Day Out
Three weeks ago, I started a new assignment. For at least until the end of next May (and hopefully for years to come), I'll be teaching a scripture study class to a group of roughly a dozen teenagers. The class goes from 6:00 to 6:45 every weekday morning, Monday through Friday, and is held at our local church building. I don't get paid for this, unless you count the deep peace and joy such service brings.
Most of these kids have learned about our religious beliefs and practices at weekly Sunday meetings and from their parents at home, but none of them have ever studied the scriptures in such depth before. It's an eye-opening experience for them, and I love seeing their faces light up when they learn something new and feel its truth.
I took this same class (called "Seminary") all four years in high school. I remember my Junior year of Seminary especially well. I'd get up at 5:00 a.m., shower and get ready for school, and get picked up by a quiet farm boy who played Varsity football. He didn't say much, but he was there every morning in his father's rusty pick-up truck. I'd hop into the cab and slide onto the vinyl seat, and we'd drive on through California's Central Valley fog until we got to the chapel.
Once there, a marvelous young father named Rob Falke taught us the gospel. Who the prophets were, what the Savior did for us, and how to find our own answers to life's biggest questions. Brother Falke, as we called him, had a deep love for the scriptures, but he had an even deeper love for the students in his class. Every morning, he looked us each in the eye and grinned, making us feel warm and welcomed. He never blinked at what anyone wore or said. He just loved us, generously and without condition. (And he often treated us to Fail's Donuts, the most scrumptious pastries in town.)
I've thought of Brother Falke often in the past three weeks--I've remembered the huge impact he had on me as a teenager. I knew he would love me no matter what I said or did, and to feel that from someone not related to me was a big deal to me back then. It still is today, thirty years later.
And now I know how he felt. I look into these sleepy faces gazing up at me as I teach, and I love them. Unreservedly. I'd walk miles for any one of them. And I hope they feel that, especially as the newness of the year wears off, and we're in the early morning trenches together.
I limit myself to one hour per day for lesson preparation, which is difficult. I could easily spend all day, every day researching historical context and the light that etymology can shine on doctrine, for example. But I have to keep a balance, reserving time for writing, housework, mothering, and wifing. I have no desire to burn out. I'm in this for the long haul.
Seminary is a relentless calling; I must make time to prepare every single day, no matter what. The alternative is to show up before the crack of dawn with nothing to give my students in exchange for the sacrifice of their time and sleep--and that is simply not an option.
So I've made a new routine for myself, and I'm chugging along, day in, day out. It's challenging, like any new routine, and I want to do my best for these great kids. I want to pass on my love and devotion and faith; my goal is for my enthusiasm to spark their own. My hope is that, thirty years from now, these kids will look back on Sister Perkins with fond memories, and will have built their own testimonies and lives on the sure foundation of the gospel of Jesus Christ. If I can play even a small part in that process, I'll be richly rewarded.
September 3, 2013
Where's my porpoise?
“They were obliged to have him with them,” the Mock Turtle said. “No wise fish would go anywhere without a porpoise.”“Wouldn’t it really?” said Alice in a tone of great surprise.“Of course not,” said the Mock Turtle. “Why, if a fish came to me and told me he was going a journey, I should say ‘With what porpoise?”“Don’t you mean ‘purpose’? said Alice.“I mean what I say,” the Mock Turtle replied with an offended tone.
One year I read both Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland and Through The Looking-Glass, by Lewis Carroll with my kids. This is one of my all time favorite conversations between Alice and the Mock Turtle in Through The Looking-Glass. Not only because it is hysterically funny, but because it had such a great message and none of us have ever been able to forget it. In fact, with a few minutes time we can all still find the page it is on without a book mark.
I remember watching Disney’s “Alice in Wonderland” when I was a kid and I thought it was funny and I enjoyed it. I never read the book until I was an adult with several children. I know the movie never inspired the kind of fun or offered the same messages my kids and I got when we read the book. The short of all this is that as I was thinking about this blog post, I was so distracted by life, kids, chores, errands, appointments and so on that I just could not come up with any ideas to write about- I was not just dealing with a blank screen or paper, I was dealing with a blank brain. Then out of the blue, just when I needed it most, this lovely conversation came to me.
I had tried to begin my journey without a porpoise. It just so happens that it was also something that I had been thinking about with my current writing projects. I have been asking myself, “Why is this story important enough to write?” I am probably doing things in the wrong order- I suppose I should have a plan to begin with. I have heard many writers talk about being “pantsers” and I suppose I fall into that category mostly. Generally I do have a plan or a loose outline of sorts, then I let the characters or the story tell me how things go. The thing that has concerned me most lately, is time. I believe in writing even if it is only for myself. The process does something for me, that nothing else can do- feeling words and ideas come out of my mind through my fingers and become visible manifestations of my thoughts is an amazing thing. Sometimes I have read something I have written and thought- “Wow, did I write that?” That being said, it also takes a lot of time. I have very little of that I can lay claim to.
I read a question on a writing group loop, by another author, not long ago asking for advice about how to write when you have little kids and just as your creative juices get flowing you get interrupted’. My thought was, ‘Yeah, how do you do that? I have been wondering about that for many years.’ I don’t have any answer. I wasn’t satisfied with any of the posted answers- nothing against those helpful authors that offered suggestions. They just didn’t work for me, I have tried much if not all of their suggestions. I have nine kids and the oldest two are only twenty-one and eighteen. The youngest two just turned three and one. They all get a lot of my time. I have a husband who naturally would like some too. My mom is currently living with us because of health reasons and by necessity requires some though she would rather not so much. I still have household chores, too and neighbors and church and…
My thought, I guess is actually several, all pertaining to the time problem. The first and most important- don’t begin without your porpoise! Time will find itself when it is right as long as you have that porpoise firmly by the fin.
Second, if it really means that much to you, don’t give up even when you want to because you are sooooo frustrated and think you will never get time before you have completely lost your mind and memory and can’t remember what you wanted to write and it was so good!
Third, writing is important. You do have something worth saying if you truly believe you do and it burns inside you begging to be let out. If you have a husband and children they are more important. The kids are going to grow up and leave faster than you will want even if you don’t think so at the moment. It will be worth waiting to let that burning out. Maybe if we are lucky, or the stars align correctly or the fates will have pity and someone will come along with a suggestion that will work for us to write more consistently with our kids and our husbands and the other million and one things we need to do. If not it will still be worth the wait. Then if it isn’t any good and we have lost our memory we won’t remember it anyway. “Attitude determines altitude.” I think that is a quote from Denis Waitley (or some other positive speaker). “No other success can compensate for failure in the home.” David O McKay. Yes, some things are worth waiting for no matter how frustrating the wait and it pays to smile through the tears of frustration. Porpoises like salt water.
Fourth, read. Read lots and lots. Read things that will inspire you so that when you are facing an unending sea of blank, things will come to you just when you need them most and it will help you smile through the tears as well. Porpoises like sunshine too. Consider reading the work you can do when you can’t write without interruption. When you are reading, things that inspire you, share them with those you care about most. Then if you have lost your memory, they can remind you.
My best wishes for many prosperous and porpoiseful journeys!
One year I read both Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland and Through The Looking-Glass, by Lewis Carroll with my kids. This is one of my all time favorite conversations between Alice and the Mock Turtle in Through The Looking-Glass. Not only because it is hysterically funny, but because it had such a great message and none of us have ever been able to forget it. In fact, with a few minutes time we can all still find the page it is on without a book mark.
I remember watching Disney’s “Alice in Wonderland” when I was a kid and I thought it was funny and I enjoyed it. I never read the book until I was an adult with several children. I know the movie never inspired the kind of fun or offered the same messages my kids and I got when we read the book. The short of all this is that as I was thinking about this blog post, I was so distracted by life, kids, chores, errands, appointments and so on that I just could not come up with any ideas to write about- I was not just dealing with a blank screen or paper, I was dealing with a blank brain. Then out of the blue, just when I needed it most, this lovely conversation came to me.
I had tried to begin my journey without a porpoise. It just so happens that it was also something that I had been thinking about with my current writing projects. I have been asking myself, “Why is this story important enough to write?” I am probably doing things in the wrong order- I suppose I should have a plan to begin with. I have heard many writers talk about being “pantsers” and I suppose I fall into that category mostly. Generally I do have a plan or a loose outline of sorts, then I let the characters or the story tell me how things go. The thing that has concerned me most lately, is time. I believe in writing even if it is only for myself. The process does something for me, that nothing else can do- feeling words and ideas come out of my mind through my fingers and become visible manifestations of my thoughts is an amazing thing. Sometimes I have read something I have written and thought- “Wow, did I write that?” That being said, it also takes a lot of time. I have very little of that I can lay claim to.
I read a question on a writing group loop, by another author, not long ago asking for advice about how to write when you have little kids and just as your creative juices get flowing you get interrupted’. My thought was, ‘Yeah, how do you do that? I have been wondering about that for many years.’ I don’t have any answer. I wasn’t satisfied with any of the posted answers- nothing against those helpful authors that offered suggestions. They just didn’t work for me, I have tried much if not all of their suggestions. I have nine kids and the oldest two are only twenty-one and eighteen. The youngest two just turned three and one. They all get a lot of my time. I have a husband who naturally would like some too. My mom is currently living with us because of health reasons and by necessity requires some though she would rather not so much. I still have household chores, too and neighbors and church and…
My thought, I guess is actually several, all pertaining to the time problem. The first and most important- don’t begin without your porpoise! Time will find itself when it is right as long as you have that porpoise firmly by the fin.
Second, if it really means that much to you, don’t give up even when you want to because you are sooooo frustrated and think you will never get time before you have completely lost your mind and memory and can’t remember what you wanted to write and it was so good!
Third, writing is important. You do have something worth saying if you truly believe you do and it burns inside you begging to be let out. If you have a husband and children they are more important. The kids are going to grow up and leave faster than you will want even if you don’t think so at the moment. It will be worth waiting to let that burning out. Maybe if we are lucky, or the stars align correctly or the fates will have pity and someone will come along with a suggestion that will work for us to write more consistently with our kids and our husbands and the other million and one things we need to do. If not it will still be worth the wait. Then if it isn’t any good and we have lost our memory we won’t remember it anyway. “Attitude determines altitude.” I think that is a quote from Denis Waitley (or some other positive speaker). “No other success can compensate for failure in the home.” David O McKay. Yes, some things are worth waiting for no matter how frustrating the wait and it pays to smile through the tears of frustration. Porpoises like salt water.
Fourth, read. Read lots and lots. Read things that will inspire you so that when you are facing an unending sea of blank, things will come to you just when you need them most and it will help you smile through the tears as well. Porpoises like sunshine too. Consider reading the work you can do when you can’t write without interruption. When you are reading, things that inspire you, share them with those you care about most. Then if you have lost your memory, they can remind you.
My best wishes for many prosperous and porpoiseful journeys!
August 29, 2013
A New Writer is with Us......
Every women and every writer has a season in their life. The season for Connie Sokol as a blogger on Mommy Authors has ended of which we are very sad. But now we have another writer with us and she will be great!!! Already a published author, Dorine is expert in middle grade fantasy stories which sound so interesting. We are looking forward to hearing from Dorine.
Dorine White
Here is her bio: Dorine White is a a children's author and a book reviewer. She grew up back East in Maryland and attended BYU in Utah. She has a BA in Humantities with an interest in Art History and French. Currently she lives in the beautiful, yet rainy Northwest with my husband and 6 children.
Her first book in The Cleopatra's Legacy series, The Emerald Ring, was published by Cedar Fort Books on May 14, 2013. It is a middle grade fantasy novel that involves Ancient Egypt, Cleopatra, and a magic emerald ring. She is also am a member of the SCBWI (Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators) and the PNWA (Pacific Northwest Writers Assoc.).
Check out all of her online places:
Author Website- http://www.dorinewhite.com/Blog- The Write Path- http://www.dorinewhite.blogspot.com/T... @Dorinewhite- https://twitter.com/DorineWhiteFacebook Author Page- https://www.facebook.com/dorinewhite
Dorine White Here is her bio: Dorine White is a a children's author and a book reviewer. She grew up back East in Maryland and attended BYU in Utah. She has a BA in Humantities with an interest in Art History and French. Currently she lives in the beautiful, yet rainy Northwest with my husband and 6 children.
Her first book in The Cleopatra's Legacy series, The Emerald Ring, was published by Cedar Fort Books on May 14, 2013. It is a middle grade fantasy novel that involves Ancient Egypt, Cleopatra, and a magic emerald ring. She is also am a member of the SCBWI (Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators) and the PNWA (Pacific Northwest Writers Assoc.). Check out all of her online places:
Author Website- http://www.dorinewhite.com/Blog- The Write Path- http://www.dorinewhite.blogspot.com/T... @Dorinewhite- https://twitter.com/DorineWhiteFacebook Author Page- https://www.facebook.com/dorinewhite
August 26, 2013
Drawing the Line
A recent publishing controversy got me thinking about where and how we draw the line in terms of deciding what is or is not acceptable as art for our children.
An LDS publisher recently canceled the publishing contract with two authors days before the book was set to go to press because they were concerned that one of the authors, who is gay, was going to use the book to further the LGBT agenda. Never mind that he never made such threats. All he wanted to do was set forth in his bio that he lived with his partner and some pets. In other words, he wasn't willing to hide his sexual orientation. There is much more about the way this publisher dealt with the issue, and if you're curious you can read about it here and here.
If you're an LDS author and want to take a stand against such unprofessionalism, you can go to this site to read the letter and request that your name be added.
In all the discussion that has ensued, I couldn't help wondering what kinds of mixed signals we're sending our children about all of this in the LDS community.
When does an artist's bio overshadow his art to the point of exclusion?
After all, how many of our children have sung songs written and/or composed by gay musicians and we don't bat an eye? How many of our youth have performed in plays and musicals written by gay playwrights or created by gay composers?
Doesn't the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, itself, perform songs composed or written by such well-known gay musicians as Lionel Bart (Oliver!), Stephen Sondheim (Sweeney Todd), and Elton John (The Lion King)? If the Mormon Tabernacle Choir can, in a sense, put its stamp of approval on such songs as "Where is Love?" and "The Circle of Life," why can't an LDS publisher, big or small, approve a manuscript like Woven? (Actually, they did; it only became an issue because they wanted to refrain from seeming to endorse a gay lifestyle by printing the truth about this one co-author.)
Are we simply hoping our children will never find out the truth about the sexual orientation of these artists?
This issue was all about integrity and honesty, and those are principles we can't afford to be fuzzy about when it comes to teaching our children.
I'm not saying LDS publishers don't have the right to edit their authors' bios. I'm simply saying they ought to always be upfront about it and have that discussion early on in contract negotiations. Otherwise, they're sending the signal that sneakiness, dishonesty, and discrimination against some people is still all right.
That's a signal that will destroy our children and, thus, our future.
Where will you draw the line?
An LDS publisher recently canceled the publishing contract with two authors days before the book was set to go to press because they were concerned that one of the authors, who is gay, was going to use the book to further the LGBT agenda. Never mind that he never made such threats. All he wanted to do was set forth in his bio that he lived with his partner and some pets. In other words, he wasn't willing to hide his sexual orientation. There is much more about the way this publisher dealt with the issue, and if you're curious you can read about it here and here.
If you're an LDS author and want to take a stand against such unprofessionalism, you can go to this site to read the letter and request that your name be added.
In all the discussion that has ensued, I couldn't help wondering what kinds of mixed signals we're sending our children about all of this in the LDS community.
When does an artist's bio overshadow his art to the point of exclusion?
After all, how many of our children have sung songs written and/or composed by gay musicians and we don't bat an eye? How many of our youth have performed in plays and musicals written by gay playwrights or created by gay composers?
Doesn't the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, itself, perform songs composed or written by such well-known gay musicians as Lionel Bart (Oliver!), Stephen Sondheim (Sweeney Todd), and Elton John (The Lion King)? If the Mormon Tabernacle Choir can, in a sense, put its stamp of approval on such songs as "Where is Love?" and "The Circle of Life," why can't an LDS publisher, big or small, approve a manuscript like Woven? (Actually, they did; it only became an issue because they wanted to refrain from seeming to endorse a gay lifestyle by printing the truth about this one co-author.)
Are we simply hoping our children will never find out the truth about the sexual orientation of these artists?
This issue was all about integrity and honesty, and those are principles we can't afford to be fuzzy about when it comes to teaching our children.
I'm not saying LDS publishers don't have the right to edit their authors' bios. I'm simply saying they ought to always be upfront about it and have that discussion early on in contract negotiations. Otherwise, they're sending the signal that sneakiness, dishonesty, and discrimination against some people is still all right.
That's a signal that will destroy our children and, thus, our future.
Where will you draw the line?
August 22, 2013
Cauldron of Love
Writers Unite to Fight Cancer are crafting their first cookbook! You are invited to participate by sending in your favorite recipe to be included.
Cauldron of Love
will include all the categories of traditional cookbooks plus additional categories: R&R recipes - items for home spa and so forthAppetite friendly recipes - items for people with loss of appetite such as patients going through chemotherapyJuice - cleansing or detoxifying recipes Recipes should include items and measurements with instructions, ADA label information if available, and a high resolution, >300 dpi full color jpg, picture of the final product / plated item. There is no limit to the number of recipes any one individual or group / organization may submit for consideration to be included in the Cauldron of Love. All submitters who are published in the cookbook will be allowed a 150 word bio with links to their own websites/blogs. In addition the submitter may choose to include a personality recipe that describes themselves or their group. The purpose for this cookbook is to raise operational funds for Writers Unite to Fight Cancer , WUFC. (All published authors are invited to join WUFC.) We will be holding a Kickstarter Campaign with the Cauldron of Love during Cancer Awareness month, October 2013. Send your recipes or additional categories you would like to see included in Cauldron of Love via email to writersunitetofightcancer@gmail.com .
Writers Unite to Fight CancerContact: Margaret L. Turley, AdministratorWriters Unite to Fight Cancer1146 N. Mesa Dr. #102-233Mesa, Arizona 85201480-586-7902http://writersunitetofightcancer.com August 19, 2013
Summer Gamboo
By H. Linn Murphy
crazy-frankenstein.com
Wow. Can I say this summer was short? Normally I welcome the advent of a new school year with open arms. Woo hoo! The house stays clean for days at a time. The food consumption and subsequent refrigerator grazing goes way down. But mostly it's quiet.
I have time to write and think, without their music or distracting shows on TV blaring through my ears. That's a good thing for a writer, yes? I have plenty of time to hatch plots and instigate mayhem. Bad guys who can never shoot straight, beware.
But it's so quiet that I tend to fall back asleep after I get back from taking the cusses to Seminary and school. Little things like laundry and a new ceiling drip chip away at my concentration. I find myself going to the fridge to graze.
What have the little bounders done to me? They've infected me with the Summer Gamboo. I break out in a rash at the sight of school supplies in the stores (which for us sneak in just as the Easter paraphernalia clears) and not just because they cost their weight in gold bullion.
I sit here and remember my summers of long ago, the proxy ache for my children's lost lazy hours filling my head. My legs itch to run through the fields of sunflowers for them. I can feel the icy chill of the slough water on my skin. There is a cow (or is it an elk?) munching its cud just off my right shoulder. I look up through the branches of the tree spreading cool leaves over my self-made fort and I sigh for my children, who only know how to kill imaginary things with big guns and magic sword buttons.
My parents forced me to weed an acre of garden. I learned what eats tomatoes and which weed has to go. I had forty-five rabbits to feed, water, and care for. I learned responsibility, and that death can take you at any time. I had to feed, water, and milk a herd of goats. I learned to be industrious, and that the work would be there regardless of how much I wanted to sleep in. We had a barnful of chickens to feed, water, and gather eggs from. I learned that you can't always tell the healthy rooster from the sick ones.
My parents also dragged me off to Europe twice. The lessons I learned there I will never ever forget. I learned to catch trains, to speak the language and be polite. I learned about history from the places where it was made. I learned that getting along sometimes means you get pounded on for no good reason at all. I learned that you don't ever take pictures at Checkpoint Charlie in East Berlin before the wall comes down. I learned to love great art and architecture, music, and dance. I went to Dachau and East Berlin and my senses taught me how it felt to live there.
I couldn't have learned all of that in a couple of weeks a year. School teachers have the whole rest of the year to try and cram knowledge into their subjects. Frankly, I find that the preponderance of those teachers can't. They teach to the AIMS test. They often hate what they do. Many have little understanding of their own subject. Often they despise the people they're trying to teach, and that comes through in their lessons. Some of the new teachers my children have are foreign and no one in class can understand anything they say. Also, their school isn't a state-of-the-art school and is up on the chopping block for possible extinction. Which means that teachers are leaving the school like rats fleeing a sinking ship.
Don't get me wrong. I'm a teacher's daughter. My father taught German and English. He was strict and I learned most of what I knew from him. I personally have taught both art and critical thinking skills. So I'm not bashing those teachers who are good at what they do, and/or love their work.
I'm knocking the ones who hold our children hostage with R-rated movies and mindless twaddle because they are too lazy to fill the hours with actual valuable knowledge the kids can use in their future lives. They fall back on garbage when there is a whole wide world of ready knowledge right at their fingertips. I'm also knocking those who stop teaching facts and start in on conjecture and spinning lies instead of facts. Summer is my time to debunk many of their myths.
I'd like my children to learn about why Europe went on Crusade to the Middle East and why few of them came home. They should learn about why our Founding Fathers felt they needed to break from a tyrannical government and govern themselves. Teach them about the reasons a man fought on one side of the Civil War and why his brother fought on the other. I'd like them to know about Hitler's regime without watching people getting shot on Shindler's List. There are so many other stories which came out of that era.
These are things I teach them, not the current school system. That is why I regret the hours the school district has stolen. The school system opines that the children forget things. My answer is that everyone forgets things. That's what review is for. They do those review for the first nine weeks anyway (if not more). They can't convince me that chopping off most of the summer will boost the amount our children learn at all. That cow left the barn years ago when I compared European schools and ours. Ha! They don't compare. I know, because I tried to get into a German high school and they laughed at me. I graduated in the top ten in my class.
How I would have howled to have my summer snatched by the school thief on the first of August, of all things. First of all, there was very little time to play after the chores were all done. And we had no TV for a long time. The one we finally got wasn't worth the time and my parents rarely let us watch it. So playing/reading time was precious. We used it to re-charge, to learn about our world (like that you shouldn't run with a glass jar full of tarantula or you might trip and find that thing sitting on your face), to visit other worlds, or to explore ours.
One and a half months is not enough for all this re-charging and re-making and world visitation. The school district's excuse is that they have given us extra weeks off elsewhere. I don't know about you, but it's like when your grandma gives you a package of panties for your Christmas present instead of something cool. Thanks Grandma. And TUSD. I want their summer back.
crazy-frankenstein.comWow. Can I say this summer was short? Normally I welcome the advent of a new school year with open arms. Woo hoo! The house stays clean for days at a time. The food consumption and subsequent refrigerator grazing goes way down. But mostly it's quiet.
I have time to write and think, without their music or distracting shows on TV blaring through my ears. That's a good thing for a writer, yes? I have plenty of time to hatch plots and instigate mayhem. Bad guys who can never shoot straight, beware.
But it's so quiet that I tend to fall back asleep after I get back from taking the cusses to Seminary and school. Little things like laundry and a new ceiling drip chip away at my concentration. I find myself going to the fridge to graze.
What have the little bounders done to me? They've infected me with the Summer Gamboo. I break out in a rash at the sight of school supplies in the stores (which for us sneak in just as the Easter paraphernalia clears) and not just because they cost their weight in gold bullion.
I sit here and remember my summers of long ago, the proxy ache for my children's lost lazy hours filling my head. My legs itch to run through the fields of sunflowers for them. I can feel the icy chill of the slough water on my skin. There is a cow (or is it an elk?) munching its cud just off my right shoulder. I look up through the branches of the tree spreading cool leaves over my self-made fort and I sigh for my children, who only know how to kill imaginary things with big guns and magic sword buttons.
My parents forced me to weed an acre of garden. I learned what eats tomatoes and which weed has to go. I had forty-five rabbits to feed, water, and care for. I learned responsibility, and that death can take you at any time. I had to feed, water, and milk a herd of goats. I learned to be industrious, and that the work would be there regardless of how much I wanted to sleep in. We had a barnful of chickens to feed, water, and gather eggs from. I learned that you can't always tell the healthy rooster from the sick ones.
My parents also dragged me off to Europe twice. The lessons I learned there I will never ever forget. I learned to catch trains, to speak the language and be polite. I learned about history from the places where it was made. I learned that getting along sometimes means you get pounded on for no good reason at all. I learned that you don't ever take pictures at Checkpoint Charlie in East Berlin before the wall comes down. I learned to love great art and architecture, music, and dance. I went to Dachau and East Berlin and my senses taught me how it felt to live there.
I couldn't have learned all of that in a couple of weeks a year. School teachers have the whole rest of the year to try and cram knowledge into their subjects. Frankly, I find that the preponderance of those teachers can't. They teach to the AIMS test. They often hate what they do. Many have little understanding of their own subject. Often they despise the people they're trying to teach, and that comes through in their lessons. Some of the new teachers my children have are foreign and no one in class can understand anything they say. Also, their school isn't a state-of-the-art school and is up on the chopping block for possible extinction. Which means that teachers are leaving the school like rats fleeing a sinking ship.
Don't get me wrong. I'm a teacher's daughter. My father taught German and English. He was strict and I learned most of what I knew from him. I personally have taught both art and critical thinking skills. So I'm not bashing those teachers who are good at what they do, and/or love their work.
I'm knocking the ones who hold our children hostage with R-rated movies and mindless twaddle because they are too lazy to fill the hours with actual valuable knowledge the kids can use in their future lives. They fall back on garbage when there is a whole wide world of ready knowledge right at their fingertips. I'm also knocking those who stop teaching facts and start in on conjecture and spinning lies instead of facts. Summer is my time to debunk many of their myths.
I'd like my children to learn about why Europe went on Crusade to the Middle East and why few of them came home. They should learn about why our Founding Fathers felt they needed to break from a tyrannical government and govern themselves. Teach them about the reasons a man fought on one side of the Civil War and why his brother fought on the other. I'd like them to know about Hitler's regime without watching people getting shot on Shindler's List. There are so many other stories which came out of that era.
These are things I teach them, not the current school system. That is why I regret the hours the school district has stolen. The school system opines that the children forget things. My answer is that everyone forgets things. That's what review is for. They do those review for the first nine weeks anyway (if not more). They can't convince me that chopping off most of the summer will boost the amount our children learn at all. That cow left the barn years ago when I compared European schools and ours. Ha! They don't compare. I know, because I tried to get into a German high school and they laughed at me. I graduated in the top ten in my class.
How I would have howled to have my summer snatched by the school thief on the first of August, of all things. First of all, there was very little time to play after the chores were all done. And we had no TV for a long time. The one we finally got wasn't worth the time and my parents rarely let us watch it. So playing/reading time was precious. We used it to re-charge, to learn about our world (like that you shouldn't run with a glass jar full of tarantula or you might trip and find that thing sitting on your face), to visit other worlds, or to explore ours.
One and a half months is not enough for all this re-charging and re-making and world visitation. The school district's excuse is that they have given us extra weeks off elsewhere. I don't know about you, but it's like when your grandma gives you a package of panties for your Christmas present instead of something cool. Thanks Grandma. And TUSD. I want their summer back.
