Sara B. Gauldin's Blog, page 15

Book Sculpting

In my last blog concerning the writing process, I talked about some of the elements I was learning to incorporate into my writing. This time I want to focus on styles of composition and the editing process.

My first published work is a novella entitled To Conspire. It was never intended to be a novella at all. I had been working on my first novel, The Corporeal Pull, which is still a work in progress. Somehow I had gotten myself bogged down with the book. I mapped out the plot, against my very type C temperament. I was making a good-faith effort to stick to my plan; and I was failing miserably at capturing the passion and personality of my characters in the process. I hit a wall. I decided to write something else to clear my mind. But what? It was then that I took a risk and asked for requests on my Facebook page. I received two requests, one for a mystery and one for an essay about the illuminati. I scratched my head. I don’t really read many mysteries, but I watch them on television at times. As for the Illuminati, I was clueless. I started researching and eventually came up with a plan to incorporate the two into a short story. When my story passed 20,000 words, I realized that my little creation was in no longer a short story. This brief story had plenty of research, but very little preplanning in terms of the plot. It was liberating, heck it was darn near exhilarating. Suddenly, I liked my characters. I cared what they thought, and I couldn’t wait to write more! The experience made me realize that there is validity in preplanning, but there is a sense of passion when letting yourself become fully emerged in your character’s world, just as I hope my readers will be!

Like a romantic romp, my interlude with my draft eventually came to an end, and a rough draft stared back at me from the screen. “Now what?” I thought. Eventually, I decided that it would have to be proofed, if not formally edited. I started a long process that was somewhat successful. I decided to forgo formal editing due to my teacher’s salary and the demands of 3 children!

The Editing Process

-First I made a futile attempt at correcting my own work on the screen. This was not effective in the least. The errors and oddities blended in with some special camouflage that was dependent on my brain filling in the details with what I meant to say.

-A friend of mine recommended a program called White Smoke to help with grammar. I purchased it, and used it with mixed results. It allowed me to see that I was lousy with commas, occasionally used split infinitives and tended to use the same words over. This part was useful. Furthermore, seeing my work in a pop up with a different spacing and font made some of the errors stand out. The work was better, but still not great.

-I got desperate, and printed the whole thing out. I divided up by chapters and stapled each one. I then dug around in my teacher bag and found a different color ink for each fully literate family member. Even the twelve-year-old was not exempt. In this manner far more errors were weeded from the garden of my thoughts than before. It amazed me how many of the little gremlins still lingered in my manuscript!

-At this point I congratulated myself on a job well done and concentrated on teaching myself to format the darn thing for eBook publication (That is a matter to discuss another day.). I managed to iron out the formatting and asked an old friend for some help with cover art. Using Smashwords I quickly published my work to the Internet. I was published; my book was approved for the “premium catalog.” I was ecstatic- until I downloaded it and tried reading it on my own Kindle and iPhone. Ewww. Mistakes caught my eye at every turn. I quickly “unpublished” the book and spent two days going page by page one each device with my laptop in front on me, so I could immediately make corrections.

-After experimenting with Smashwords I decided to publish a second time with Amazon. In a lovely coincidence, my original formatting and cover art translated well!

What I learned:

My first book was relatively short. Its plot was engaging, but not complicated. I thought I could handle the editing process on my own. For my next book, The Corporeal Pull, which will hopefully be published in the fall of 2013 I will take the steps listed above once again. This time I will be wiser. After I go through all of those steps, (which I am working on now) then I will add a few more. I will read the book aloud with a recorder. You can hear when something is off with dialogue more easily that you can see it. I will also invest in a full critique and later a professional editor. After all, this is the same book that had changed point of view and dimensions twice!

Review of Shimmer in the Dark: Rouge Genesis

http://reviewguru4u.wordpress.com/201...

Review of In Hell by L. Marshall James

http://reviewguru4u.wordpress.com/201...

Terra’s Dilemma – An excerpt from The Corporeal Pull

Terra sat next to her portal. Her eyes seemed trained on the images within, but her mind raced with the tension of her new found perspective.

Before Terra had met Liam, she would have served endlessly. She was happy in her position; she was helpful here. She had an expressed purpose, and she could use her vision to match and guide. She could move the mortal creations through to the corporeal realm with the confidence that they were serving a greater purpose. It encompassed her focus. Terra carefully studied the temperament of each individual. She postulated the possible outcomes of each placement. Of course, there were some placements that would be simpler and some that would be difficult, some even painful; that was part of the placement. The intent was not to punish, but to push an entity towards a specific lesson or a precise portion of personal identity that was then molded and fine-tuned by honing in a mortal life. Each human life also had a place in the greater plan of the One. Terra had no control over that element. She could choose between certain placements that were given to her, but she could not alter the selections because that would change the part that each person was intended to play in the plan. Each lifespan created a tiny thread that would become part of a greater tapestry of beauty woven and perfected by the omniscient creator. Truly, it was an honor to do her part.

The corporeal entities had the full recall of temporal life when they were free of the mortal form, but while interred in the body, they were only aware of the experiences that they had while in that form. Terra had met many intriguing individuals who had seen and experienced so much in their mortal life. Some individuals experienced bodily life more than one time. Once freed from their bodies personal memories were no longer clouded by the frail capacity of a mortal brain. The inner soul stored every nuance of each entity’s eternity with perfect clarity. She had witnessed the lives of famous people whose lives had made a great difference in the grand scheme of mortality. Abraham Lincoln had endured considerable personal pain and tragedy which tempered him in his ability and resolve to make the effects that he was intended to make. He stood immovable as his country crumbled down. The issue of basic human rights was enough to erode the fabric of a nation. His resolve was sufficient to tip the scale in favor of a proclamation that eventually freed thousands of souls who were suffering in slavery. Some of those who had made the most difference had no mortal acclaim at all.

There was once a woman who had followed her faith and led others towards a moral life in a desolate desert part of the world that is often forgotten. When she died, nobody remembered her name, yet she changed the lives of thousands for the better as she educated the people from that village, and armed them with knowledge of how to obtain and purify drinking water, avoid the ravages of AIDS and work towards a more peaceful existence despite guerrilla factions.

Liam’s case came to Terra like any other. She was to place him on Earth for his term of service. Surprisingly, she had less control over his placement; typically, she had several options. She would look in on each one to examine the situation before sending a new life force to a transition to mortality. However, Liam had only two options for placement. He was made for a specific purpose. The intriguing thing was that there was no notation as to why he had been made for so narrow a purpose. Of course, it was not her place to question the infinite wisdom of the One, but she could not look away.

~~~~~~~~

Terra peered into portal one. It was one of the two options for Liam. The place was a primitive shack in the middle of a swampy forest. The area was once a wildlife preserve. It had been sheltered from the onslaught of man. The nature preserve had been intended for animals and wildlife to have some small piece of home left over after the daunting urban sprawl had left many parts of the earth desolate and used up. When that had been the case, the place had undoubtedly been one of the unspoiled beauty and harmony. It was hard to see that now. During the years of civil unrest and political shifts, the importance of preserving this piece of the natural beauty of the word fell by the way side. Factories utilized this lull in popular attention to use the area as a chemical and heavy machinery dumping ground. True, the trees and bushes had sought to cover these blatant wounds in the landscape, but the damage was done; this fragile ecosystem and been forever thrown out of its natural balance. Algae grew in the puddles in unnatural shades choking out the wildlife that once lived beneath. Cockroaches scuttled about openly feeding on the rot of what was left of healthy life.

It was here that the woman hid from the world. Her shelter was no better than a shanty. She moved through her daily life at a slow waddle. It was obvious how she had come to this impasse. What was not self-evident was what direction she would take from here. Free will is a tricky thing. Terra wondered idly what sort of being the woman’s guide was. Maybe the woman was one of the lost souls, or perhaps she had been claimed by the scourge. The latter option seemed more likely. Her stomach was strangely descended from the weight of the unborn life that she carried in her womb. She was aimless and feverish from the withdrawal she suffered. It racked through her body in spasms when she let down her guard. The tract marks on her arms told another piece of her story. Truly, her body told a story of a sad life filled with poor decisions. She was a prostitute by trade. When she had been younger and less “with child” it had afforded her a simple existence of bare necessities and substance abuse. Her pregnancy brought that piece meal existence to a close. No man would pay for a hugely pregnant hooker. No men to draw an income from meant a lack of income.

So what would she do with an infant? What type of mother could she be? As a guide, mortal thought was open to Terra. She could not discern the private musings of the other guides around her, or of those who in the Tweens, who were not her charges. However, this woman, mortal, yet barely sentient was readable to her. She was clear but certainly not understandable. Her thoughts were alternating from drowning the child at birth to leaving it here for whom or whatever found it. Truly, bringing the child into her daily life was not an option. Terra could see the appeal of these options in the woman’s thoughts. She could see the woman’s complete lack of remorse. In her mind, this disposal of the life she would bear was an act of self-preservation. She could see no moral qualm with the possible solutions to her problem. Her thoughts only dwelled on her next fix. How soon could that be? When would she be able to resume her life the way she knew it… the way she chose it? The infant was inconsequential for her in the same way most people felt about stepping on an ant.

It was so ironic that Terra could see the woman’s thoughts as they formed on earth, but any in existence in the Tweens, the thoughts of others were completely silent. She had once been told that this was a way of keeping things peaceful here where all could pass through. In reality, it was a blessing for Terra to keep her own thoughts private, especially those pertaining to Liam! It would be hard for the others to understand her intrigue.

As Terra observed the woman whose mortal name was Katrina, she heard her mind slowly focus on the acts that had led her to this shameful condition; the situation was disgraceful not because she was with child, but because of the neglect and damaged state that she allowed her body to sink into. She was convinced that the deciding act had been one she had performed with Mink, a street pharmacist who had been known to occasionally take in women of ill repute and support their habits in a sheltering kind of way or eliminate their problems altogether in a cold and more permanent fashion. Although there were other patrons, she had not been as careless with them as she had with Mink. She wanted to win his favor, to be allowed to carry on under his shelter and enabling hand. She had been successful in winning him over until this; this was not what she had wanted. This conception would surely move Katrina’s name to the list of those who were no longer useful to Mink. She knew that if he learned her secret, she would be silenced permanently. He would think no more of eliminating her for his convenience as she would for her own child.

Terra shuttered at the idol thoughts that rang only as an empty promise in the mind of Katrina. The child within her womb had a small chance of survival. This child’s birth was meant to either affect the mother’s path, or go on to alter paths in another fashion. The lifespan of the child would make that determination.

~~~~~~~~

Portal two was a different shade of the same sorrow. Carol had once been a beautiful girl. She had dark chestnut hair, and blue almond-shaped eyes. Her skin was somewhat fair, and her features were refined. She was a child of fortune. He parents had doted on her endlessly. She had her looks, her intelligence and a promising future when she left for college. Truly, college was the decision that she was intended to make. It was the stair step to her eventual goal. She would use these life skills to make her contribution to the world. However, free will got in her way.

In this case, Carol had not made the decision that made her mortal life one of sorrow. She had been on her way to college when things went terribly wrong. The bus on which she was a passenger had swerved to avoid a drunk driver. When the bus went off course, it happened to be on a bridge over a river. The bus careened through the side of the railing like a hot knife through butter. It only gained speed as it plummeted into the water below; the bus became a flying death trap. The driver was the first to die. He was killed by the initial impact. The other passengers were submerged under the water below. Thirty-seven living souls went into that river; three came out alive. Carol was among the living, but she did not know that. The lack of oxygen damaged her mortal brain. Her immortal essence remained. It was unable to leave her strong young body, yet she was trapped in isolation in her own existence. She could no longer use her human form to navigate the mortal world. So she lingered; aware of her own existence yet separate from the mortal shell that now held her prisoner.

Carol lingered, trapped inside her body for a long time. Her family did not come. They mourned for her loss; they felt it in every way; but the body that they buried and grieved over was not Carol’s. The severity of the injuries that the bus passengers had suffered had made identification of the casualties difficult to pin down. The young woman who had been buried in her place had been an orphan, also on her way to college. Nobody remained to look for her; nobody came to see if the hospitalized girl was who she was thought to be. That young lady’s name was Kelsey. The medical charts in Carol’s room all read Kelsey Troy. Carol did not know if she was anywhere or anyone. She only knew that she was trapped within herself. She did not know that she could not be released from this half way existence because her body was now a ward-of-the-state. Kelsey had no next of kin to advocate her.

Time went by and slowly Carol’s body healed, though cruelly the mind, she needed to control it did not improve. Her beauty did return as she healed and although Carol did not notice her physical rejuvenation, others did. For some, it was a bittersweet twist. The nurses both envied and pitied her as she lay beautiful yet inanimate. Others noticed as well; cruel others who sought only to take advantage of her perilous situation. It began with one of the men who cleaned the floors of the long-term care wing that housed Carol’s body and forced it to continue without her. He had visited her room over and over on his nightly rounds. Had anybody taken the time to notice they would have realized that the floors in the area were being cleaned more often and thoroughly than any others on in the wing. He only stood and stared at Carol at first; when nobody noticed the time that he spent there by her side he grew more and more brazen. His bravery led to recklessness that led to cruel deeds. He repeatedly ravaged her knowing she had no way to make a complaint. As if that was not enough, he brought others to participate in more of the same. It was a blessing that Carol could not know any of this. The result was conception. The strong body that held Carol so firmly now also held a secret passenger. A passenger who would have nobody but a comatose mother as an incubator and a rapist sire who would never take credit or responsibility for his actions, much less be brought to justice.

Carol’s thoughts were a stark contrast to Katrina’s. She quietly hummed to herself bored. She longed to be set free. She missed her family and friends from her mortal life and wondered what would have been if not for this strange twist of fate. There was no malaise towards the men who had victimized her body. She was not aware of that. Terra wondered if Carol would be informed of the child her body carried when she was finally returned to the Tweens. There was no malaise towards her unborn child. Though the child occupied her body, Carol was completely unaware of the budding life force. She was a consciousness separate from her body. The body acted as a vessel, an incubator and a jail all at once.

The child would be born to no one, a ward-of-the-state like the mother. The infant would be considered evidence of a heinous crime that could not be distributed among the public until its mystery was solved. The case would never be solved. The perpetrator, upon noticing the gradual change of Carol’s body left the area to return into the country of his origin. He had destroyed the falsified work visa that had allowed him to stay in the facility. He disappeared from the area as completely as a fish into the ocean. He would never be found. He was untraceable. The child born from their union was destined to be trapped in limbo, in many ways just as the mother who he would never know.

~~~~~~~~

Terra adjusted the portal so that she could perceive what scenarios each situation would lead to. No matter how she adjusted the scenario, Liam was intended to become a sort of living martyr. His pain in life would change the course of thousands of life times. He was meant to take away a great part of the evil Scourge that was consuming the mortal world.

The threat of the Scourge was known to the guides. They made every attempt to steer their charges from its path, but it was plain to Terra that either course would take Liam on a collision course with this dark force. It seemed that he was intended to battle this menace and regain some footing against its spread. There was the risk that he would be completely lost during the process; or worse, consumed and assimilated by the darkness. There had been many campaigns to rid the world of the Scourge, but all had failed. There were rumors, mostly told in whispers that the Scourge could not be stopped. Some guides even believed that the Scourge would ultimately consume the world of man. Terra had always sided with the optimistic vantage point who maintained that should the source of the Scourge be eliminated; the problem would finally be resolved. The trouble was the simple fact that a true source had never been made known to the population of the Tweens, if it was truly known at all. Now she was feeling less confident.

The idea of dropping Liam into the course of the Scourge and hoping that he would emerge victorious seemed foolhardy at best. Seeing that there was no other option triggered a wave of panic that seemed to crush Terra from the inside out. She felt herself sink to the floor of her workspace in sorrow. There she pulled her knees to her chest and let the sobbing shake her until she succumbed totally. Terra remained upon the floor in a spent heap for an untold length of time. What need did she have to push herself forward? She wished that there was a way that the scourge could take her instead. At least then the loss would not seem as great.

Book Building

I am like thousands of independent authors circulating in cyber space. I want what all of them want; to write the perfect eBook that will be wildly successful. I want my work to be meaningful and appealing to the masses. Today, I want my work to be complete. I want to look at the long process I have endured with a grain of satisfaction before I obsessively shoulder the task of tackling my next creation.

It is easy to but in my order to the universe. I know the exact results that I want to achieve. I have a clear image of the mood and emotional response I would like my readers to have. Now for the fun part; how to go form words on a page to an enriching read that makes readers want to immediately immerse themselves into the worlds of my imagination.

There are many element that must play a role in this journey, but today I will discuss the most crucial element of the process; writing an awesome book. No amount of marketing will circumvent the basic need to have a book that is worth the hype.

I have been doing an extensive amount of reading on the topic of book creation. There are common threads in the publications. This is what they all agree upon;

-Books need an awesome first chapter that hooks the reader.

-Books need action in each section to hold a reader’s attention.

-Show, don’t tell.

-Make your characters three dimensional and likeable.

-Books need a satisfying conclusion.

-Books should be free of mistakes, and other nonsensical utterings.

-Books should be screened by multiple sources before they are released to the public.

-Books need a marketable cover image (the pictures are hard for the writer to focus energy on because the images in the mind are more vivid).

All of these elements are great. But nobody really tells you how to accomplish any of this in the real world. So I for one am seeking assistance. I can churn out a draft. But the next part I will send out into the universe. I have tried beta readers, but apparently I am the only person I know who is bookishly dedicated enough to purposely dedicate time and energy to plowing through other’s books and formulating feedback. I don’t have a clone, and I am short on volunteers. At this point I am considering investing in a paid critique. I know this seems odd. Especially in light of the fact that to date I have made fifteen dollars on my last book. (I spent fifty on the cover so I am still in the red). But in the grand scheme of things I do not want to send this book that I have invested a lot of time and energy into, out to the public without making it the very best that it can possibly be!

My first book, a novella entitled To Conspire is still floating out there in Amazon land. If you’re like minded, in my beliefs that authors should have a chance, and deserve a read and if they are truly blessed, a review then check it out here. http://www.amazon.com/To-Conspire-ebook/dp/B00CL203KM/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1374768319&sr=1-1

Should you feel sincerely interested in beta reading or reviewing any of my work, new or old, send me a message and I will be glad to accommodate your request. In the meant time, I have an 80,000 word document calling my name!

The Dance

Life tempts and teases

Makes simple victories into a defeat,

Progress into pain.

Love at arms length

Pulls at the heart like magnetic force

But to get to close is

Allowing loss.

Working for a future

Is ignoring the present.

Enjoying the present is

Accepting future failure.

How long can we dance this dance?

How long can we play

Life’s game…

Going through the motions.

The steps are rote now, but for how long

Until we see

We are dancing away our happiness….

Mortality

I have always been drawn to the looming truth of mortality. As I begin the transition from writing as a hobby to writing as a professional I have been doing some looking back. The theme seems to permeate my writing. I suppose part of reason is my early brush with death. I was fourteen the first time I looked death in the face and knew it for what it was. A simple mistake and a horrible car crash; there I sat bleeding to death in a ditch. I watched the others around me in a panic. But a sense of calm came over me. I knew in that moment that our mortal bodies are not meant to last. We are infinitely fragile beings who are destined to die.

I hear people mention people who are dying. They talk about the stress of knowing you are going to die. I cannot help but find it ironic that in truth we are all dying. We are but a flash in the pan in the grand scheme of time and space. The difference is that the people who have been diagnosed with a terminal illness have been forced to recognize the fact. It bothers the onlooker who does not want to know that they too are dying. Yet even as they express the sentiment of pity their own mortality is certain.

That leads me to the next part of our discussion. Clearly cultures from all over our world have different beliefs about the afterlife. They run the gambit in imagery and reasoning. I have learned at least a little about most of them. There are common threads. Most cultures believe in at least one higher power. They believe that things happen in the universe and in the world with reason and intent. They believe that in some form or fashion the conscious part of humanity, the part that makes us who we are will go on. They also believe that there are a set of rules, moral guide lines to go by to ensure that this process will go smoothly. As far as I can tell the picture of what this means varies from individual to individual. It also seems to vary at different points in an individual’s life. I find that to be true for myself. My own sense of spirituality has changed over time and with life experiences. Knowledge and perspective changes the way we see things as children. Sometimes I find that I envy those that have the “faith of a child”. But other times I am glad to have tempered my understandings with doubts, questions, prayer and searching.

The element that keeps coming back to me more recently is the role of the dead in the world of the living. Most of us believe that our loved ones go on in an afterlife. It is difficult to quantitatively monitor their progress in the transcendent state. I think of this. I tend to look at what I can measure. A person’s influence lives on. I envision this using the metaphor of a child standing by a lake;

The child can see the shore and all that the sun bathes in light around him. He is happy to be in the sun, but the curiosity that is to him innate beckons him towards the water, that which is deep dark and unknown. Fear prevents the child form leaping into the depths without his parents as a source of safety. He spies a stone on the shore. The stone pre-exists the child’s awareness of it. It has lingered here undisturbed for an immeasurable length of time. Yet it existed. If he cannot probe this unknown depth but he can send this representative to the beyond. No one will miss a stone. The child picks up the stone and examines it. It fits into his hand in a comfortable manner. He draws back his hand and launches the stone into the air. As the stone arcs upwards towards the blue sky, it is free and moves toward the light. It would continue forever but the inevitable force of gravity acts upon it. The stone’s upward progress slows. It reaches the crux of the arch. It has met its fruition. The maximum it can achieve. The moment that it is in its prime is immeasurably minute. The stone now gives way to the downward pull. It approaches the water’s surface, gaining speed as it travels. The boy watches closely. He does not want to miss seeing what will become of his stone. The stone breaks the surface of the water. For an instant the boys believes he can see the stone sinking, but before he can think through the process fully the stone is out of his sight and a new phenomenon has captured his attention. A ripple extends form the point of the stones impact, although the stone itself has sunk from sight. The boy will never be able to recover the stone or behold it again. It is lost to him. The ripple the stone has left is all that remains to the boy. It is the only reminder that the stone truly existed that the boy can perceive. The ripple is a thing of beauty. Its silvery circles extend far out into the water. It is far more amazing to perceive than the stone itself had ever been. They silently move outward from the apex that once was the stone and continue their influence outward toward the boy and the deeper waters of the unknown. They alone are perceivable to the light and safety of the shore.

I believe that all of us are like the stone. We did not suddenly exist on this Earth. We existed in some form, be is spiritual, biological through DNA or in the form of the energy we use to exude life. We began our journey as a young person arching upward. We could only see the sun and not the inevitability of our fall. Truly we were going up; why would we think of stopping. We reach our inevitable crux and are pulled downward by the inevitability of our mortality. We reach our death and cross over into the unknown. We are unreachable by those we left behind, yet our ripple of influence remains as proof to the living that yes, we did exist and our influence in this world, our ripple lives on. It is up to us in our lives to ensure that our ripple is positive and not negative. We influence in some way all that is around us by our interactions. It is my hope that we all can pause and evaluate the type of ripple we are creating as we live.

The Mantra of an LD Child

“I am not stupid, I am not broken, I am intelligent, I am different, I can learn, I can overcome”

I repeated these concepts in my mind thousands of times as a child. I was lucky. My parents repeated these ideas as well and dared any educator or outsider to tell me any different. I was never allowed to make excuses. “You have a glitch, work around it, we’ll figure it out.” I was taught that I was pursuing school to learn, and if I learned well I was successful, even if my grades did not agree. I was told that a mediocre grade I fought for would always be welcome, but an A plus I received skating by was a joke. I am thankful for these lessons.

The question now is how to perpetuate these ideas to a generation of children who seem to have more varieties of glitches than even my cross wired brain can take in. We as a society of parents, educators, and at large need to stop calling these variations of the classic learning style an excuse for failure. Children whose parents hope for hang ups to receive a check have children who are being forever crippled by a label. The entire implication of the word, “Learning Disabled” is a travesty, the prefix “dis” anchored to a the word “able”, unable, helpless, hopeless, so many negative synonyms cling to the term like a life sentence for failure. None of these terms fit. The reality is we should be calling these variations to what is common, uncommon, these persons of alternative perspective can approach the world and make many significant contributions that perhaps the conventional mind may miss. These uncommon minds have a brilliant chance for success if they are not crippled by a label, an excuse, a cop out from the world at large.

So what does this misnomer of a term really mean? Disabled does not mean no longer accountable for learning. Disabled does not mean you will receive a note and be excused from life’s challenges. Disabled means you are up for a fight. Disabled means you have to understand the label well enough to work around it and live a successful life despite whatever quirk of brain neurology you may be experiencing.

So my fellow variants, don’t give up on yourselves. Fight for your future. Make changes and make a positive path for yourself. You are not a dead end. You are a hope for the future. Fight for your ability to make a change. And when the conventional path does not work, let your unconventional mind lead you on a path that works for you, after all only you can walk it.

For my fellow educators, don’t be swayed by a label. Each student is an individual. You have to find a way around every day challenges, find a way around exceptional ones, and help a student see that they are not broken. They are just wired to learn and understand in a different way.

For my fellow parents, every child is different. Be in your child’s life and be a force of positive change. Live the example you would have them live. Do not encourage them to hide behind a perceived disability. Instead encourage them to rise above the situation and be the brilliant source of change they are capable of being.

After all, no one is put in this world to fail. Failure is a choice. Failure is not trying. Failure is giving up. Failure is quitting a journey before it begins. Do not choose to fail!

The Journey

From a freshly broken

heart, through a warm

state of being, it

travels on, now an

impulse, like the seed

before the tree.

Like that seed it

grows in its reason,

reaching the eye

in a salty trickle

that forms a tear and

drops away, taking

with it some small

part of the pain

that will begin this

journey again.

Parental Responsibility

Upon observing the current crop of young people I see an alarming rate of children who are raising themselves. There are other children who are being fine tuned into rude beasts and near-do-wells. While there are many wonderful parents working every day to improve upon the lives of their children, there are an increasing number of individuals who are not putting forth he needed effort, actions, and follow through to achieve successful results. This observation is not intended to be a purveyor of judgment, but rater at attempt at analyzing the causes and therefore the possibility of improving upon the situation.

The most blatant change I see stems from an evolution in cultural structure and norms. The nuclear family based on a patriarchal structure that was common place one hundred and even fifty years ago is now the exception rather than the common place. Many wonderful children have been raised in non-traditional homes, but I conjecture that having more than one individual who is responsible for children is helpful to be able to more fully focus on the needs of the child. Further, years ago a family could be supported on one income, leaving one parent, usually the mother with more time at home and with the children as an area of focus. Today’s economy demands a dual income family to make the same ends meet. Most two parent families today are dual income families and many women value the opportunity to pursue a career. This does not make them bad mothers by definition, but it does place constraints on time. Many more fortunate families find themselves in a tug-of war between time and money. They may work nonstop and not have time to enjoy the spoils, or they may find themselves under employed and not have the money to enjoy or utilize the time fully. Either scenario has a direct correlation to the child who is not participating in the work world. Many children are faced with a dual income family that leaves them with inadequate parental time or supervision, or in a situation where the parent or parents are underemployed and the child is faced with the very real challenges of poverty that chokes the opportunities for enrichment out of the garden of possibility. There are many variations on this trend. Nontraditional family units such as children raised by gay or lesbian couple are faced with the same challenges of time versus money.

The attached families who are spending all of their energies on making ends meet are generally more fortunate. The alternative is the single parent family. Of course single parents do not love their children any less than any other sub group. They are faced with challenges that attached homes are not. A single parent is obligated to support the child or children involved while simultaneously providing child care, educational support and enrichment. Often parents find themselves in a situation where they make less money at work than they will be obligated to pay in transportation and child care. This situation leads to children who grow up in poverty. When parents have to choose between working constantly for a meager wage while sacrificing time with children or giving up on working and relying on the possibility of child support or welfare it is a sad situation. Either way the child is going with out something they need to ensure the best possibility for success. It may be nutrition, shelter, time, educational support, enrichment, or just the time they need to form a genuine relationship and bond that allows them to learn from the parent.

The expression “It takes a village to raise a child.” comes to mind. We as a society depend less and less on the extended family in a constructive way. Years ago families stayed near one another and helped one another with the child rearing task. Today many families raise their children in isolation. Many people move far from the family of origin for the purpose of pursuing a career. Again the pursuit of financial stability takes a stab at the family structure. This lack of help from grandparents, aunts and uncles means less people to help the child move towards being a productive human being, and less age old wisdom being passed down to the children. There is a flip side to this coin. There are many parents today who do not actively parent at all. Rather their offspring is left to family member or society at large due the original parents being unwilling or unable to properly care for their offspring.

The increase in misplaced children; those who have been moved for the original parents by circumstances or court order is a sad trend in today’s world. Many of these situations are related to substance abuse on the part of the parent or parents. A culture of permissiveness has come to keep company with a culture of strain for financial security. This permissive attitude can lead directly to negative family situations. Persons who are under financial strain, or who have too much free time are more likely to become involved with drugs, be they legal or illicit in an attempt to fill the void of time or to ease the strain of constantly striving forward. More and more this behavior is considered socially acceptable. It is more commonplace. There are other loosenings of the belt that compound the problem. Years ago promiscuity was much less socially acceptable. Of course people have always had a biological urge to propagate the species. Over time is has become more common to propagate out of wedlock, forming more single parent families who face strain. It has become more common to propagate with passing acquaintances who do not keep new familiar ties or financial ones in the form of support. It has also become more acceptable to propagate large groups of children in order to garner financial support from the government. This is a self-perpetuating situation, the more children produced, the more demand for income increases, so that the need in never actually filled despite the increase in benefit.

When all of these factors are put into play, the instance of children who are not being lead down a positive path increases. The acceptance of negative life situations such as drug use and dependence on the welfare system becomes more and more commonplace to each generation. Sadly, even the parents who have managed to properly raise their children are faced with sending them out into the world where deviant behavior is becoming the norm. Peer pressure speaks volumes and many of these children despite the best of situations and parenting skills are being sucked in to a cultural trend that is degrading he futures of our nation’s youth.

Of course other elements are at play. Many will point to an end to corporal punishment. Other will mention the failings of the increasingly overburdened educational system that faces children that have never been raised, children faced with biological damage from drug addiction, and an increasing population of children who have major medical problems, learning disabilities, autism, delays due to premature birth that are resulting from a tandem of new medicines saving children who years ago would not have thrived and an ever changing array of chemical influences in the form of legal and illegal drugs, food additives, pollution and pesticides.

In truth, all of these factors make the difficult task of sculpting a child into a moral and productive member of society, let alone an educated and intelligent one more and more difficult. Perhaps by drawing attention to the root of the problems more people will be inspired to reach out and try to make a difference in these trends. There is much work to be done. Daily there is more and more demand for volunteers, tutors, mentors, religious leaders, substance abuse support. The “family” is no longer the only sort of “village” who must raise a child. We as a society need to step up and be the system of support and enrichment these children need to turn the tide of negatives into a sea of positives. Every child holds unique gifts and the potential for great things. We cannot afford to continue to allow this trend to threaten the children of our community and the citizens of the future.