Susan Thatcher's Blog, page 7
February 19, 2017
Life and Life and Life….
I got a very pleasant surprise this morning: the Authors Database named me and my books to a “Must Read” list.
I have gotten only one bad review and that was from a guy who thought he was buying something else. Yeah, I don’t have as many reviews as J.K. Rowling (who I admire even more for her brilliant tweets), but only one bad one is pretty good.
In other news…
Life, the Universe, and Everything (we’re not far from the Deep Thought computer that Douglas Adams envisioned) seems to be hell-bent on seeing how badly I want to write something. I sat down to write a short story (which – are you listening, Life? – I want to have completed to offer at Book Obsessed Babes in Jacksonville on April 8) .
One paragraph, one. One lousy paragraph and suddenly, I’m up to my armpits in other things demanding my immediate attention. This happens every bleeping time I sit down to write something new, I swear to God. One time, I powered through it and just hunched over my keyboard hammering away…
My computer died. And it died before I could upload the manuscript to a cloud and work on it from another device. It took a year and a half before I could buy a new one (it was the lean times).
Life is a bully. Straight up. “Ooh, can’t reach your manuscript! Hey, your phone’s blowing up! (once, literally) Ah, look at that; you have to move. Poop emoji (Like is a bully fluent in modern hieroglyphics). Nice story you’ve started. Shame if something happened to it.“
I hear from other authors that Life is equally mean to them at such times, sometimes in far worse ways.
So, Life, here’s the deal. Like it or not. I’m writing. You are not going to interrupt me. Got it? Go bug a sculptor or a stripper or someone doing a poetry slam. I’m busy.
February 15, 2017
In Brief…
A brief post tonight for a couple of things. Good things for me. Promotional thing.
First of all, Author MCV Egan interviewed me and reviewed “These Foolish Things” and “At Last.” Link below:
Also, I have 2 General Admission tickets available for Book Obsessed Babes 2017 on April 8, 2017 at the Omni (Oooh, swanky) in Jacksonville, FL. If you want them, leave a comment. Liking my Facebook page would help.
Susan Thatcher Author Facebook Page
February 12, 2017
I Am
You guys are getting a “two-fer” in blog posts today. One is me being pompous (at which I excel) and one is me promoting myself so you’ll say, “OMG. I need to buy her books and read them NOW!”
This is the pompous post, but I have something I’d like you to read, think about, and use. I want the people around me (and if you’re reading this, you’re around me) to be happy, free from worry, and have the psychic space, if you will, to enjoy life.
First, a bit of introduction. I have been a student of the Law of Attraction and quantum mechanics since I saw “What the Bleep Do We Know” in 2004. I had no idea what it was about, but I remember reading something in the Los Angeles times describing it as “fascinating” and a “must see.” My best friend came from a family of mathematicians, physicists, and one rogue lawyer. I wanted to understand the field a bit better (completely skipped physics in high school). What I saw changed my thinking on a lot of things. It is part narrative (Marlee Matlin, Elaine Hendrix, and Barry Newman (I remembered him from “Petrocelli,” an early 1970s lawyer drama on NBC)) and part documentary interviewing various doctors, physicists (Fred Alan Wolf talks about sub-atomic physics and says, “It gets a little nutty down there.” How could you not love that?), and a channeler discussing the effect of thoughts and emotions on our environment and that you can create your reality by choosing which thoughts get your focus. Energy flows where attention goes.
Two years later, “The Secret” came out on DVD and you’re more likely to have heard of that one. Essentially the same message, but simplified. And it has Fred Alan Wolf again. The takeaway, “Thoughts become things.”
You create your reality.
Somewhere, I came across the phrase, “’I Am’ is the most powerful phrase there is. It’s true. I have been on a roller coaster of financial/housing ups and downs since 2002. After finding these two movies, I changed my thinking about the down times. I chose to think of them as temporary, that my reality was something better, and I would return to it; I just didn’t know when.
“I am…”
How do you finish that? How you finish that sentence is your mindset about yourself. “I’m broke/tired/fat/depressed/helpless/angry/unloveable/lazy/useless/sick…”
What if, instead of “I’m broke,” you said to yourself, “I’m okay.”? It’s not a denial of your financial condition; it’s shifting the focus from the negative to what is right. You may not have a fat bank account, but you’re housed, your important bills are paid, you have food, your needs are met. IN THE MOMENT, you are okay. That’s all you need. For the moment, I’m okay.
Chances are you’ll also be okay in the next moment. And the next.
“Well, I’m sick. Nothing I can do about that.” Saying to yourself, “I’m okay” doesn’t deny illness. It denies illness and pain their power to make you helpless and powerless. I sprained my hip once and any movement was brutal pain (I’m not a fan of painkillers, so I gut it out with anti-inflammatory meds like ibuprofen). After a couple of days, I went to roll over in bed and it was agony. I got so mad, I yelled, “Fuck you! You’re only temporary! You’ll be gone in a few days, but I’ll still be here!” Think of crumpling a piece of newspaper. I felt that intense ache diminish in intensity and area just like crumpling a piece of paper.
“I am okay.”
It’s an affirmation. It’s not Stuart Smalley, “I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and dog-gone it, people like me.” (Senator Al Franken during his “Saturday Night Live” days) played for laughs.
It’s you telling yourself in two words that you will not let your problems eat you alive. You will claim this moment and psychic space for yourself. And the next one. And the next.
“But what if…” I would hazard a guess that if you can challenge “I am okay,” then you’re not arrested, blown to Oz in a tornado, being chased by a grizzly bear, or sitting in the middle of an IRS audit (actually, they’re pretty cool. They just want money and accurate accounting, not your immortal soul. You can be okay in an audit).
If you don’t feel okay, drink some water. Have something to eat. Close your eyes and take three deep breaths (unless you’re driving, then don’t close your eyes). Then reassess. If you still don’t feel okay, repeat.
I am okay.
Interviews and Other Things That Bring Me Out of My Cave
Self- promotion time! (It’s my blog and that’s part of the reason it exists)
First up, author Cheryllyn Dyess interviewed me for her “Behind the Pages” blog. If you’d like to read it (‘I’M FUNNY” as one of my nieces said when she was little), here is the link.
Morning Coffee With Susan Thatcher
Second, just a reminder because I posted this last week, the fabulous ladies of BookRhythm are hosting me for “Meet the Author” at 7 PM Eastern tomorrow night (Feb 13) on Facebook. I will be giving away 2 general admission tickets to Book Obsessed Babes 2017 in Jacksonville, FL on April 8.
(okay, I didn’t realize it was a live link and I punted on inserting it, but it’ll get you to the event!)
Third, there will be another interview forthcoming. I will post a link when it’s live.
I am grateful to the authors and bloggers helping to support my work, to the readers who reach out. My hope is that you will decide to become one of them.
February 9, 2017
Meet The Author
Want to talk to me? It can be done!
ME!
Monday, Feb 13, 2017 (or 13 Feb, 2017 for other parts of the world) at 7 PM Eastern Standard Time, I will be available to answer your questions, make you ask your phone why the chicken crossed the road, and get silly, if you’re so inclined.
The fabulous ladies of Bookrhythm are hosting and there will be fun, prizes, and silliness. Please join me.!
Here’s the link:
February 7, 2017
Enter Title Here
Sorry for missing a post yesterday, but here ‘tis. As I didn’t get frantic messages looking for it yesterday, I’m thinking no one was emotionally distressed by its absence.
Bastards.
Anyway, I have been able to rediscover a part of me that had to be shoved aside for the past few years of shelter instability: cooking and baking. I cooked: made one-dish dinners, pan fried meats, built salads and microwaved stuff, but it wasn’t my kind of cooking. I am one of those freaks that loves the challenge of Thanksgiving dinner. I experiment with meatloaf. My grandmother was one of the greatest cooks I’ve ever met and I can make her stuffed cabbage (Haven’t mastered her pot roast yet, though). Other than the cramps in my upper back from stuffing cabbage leaves, it’s all good.
This past week, I made a pan of brownies. Just an 8” x 8” of the family brownie recipe (that I tweaked and improved, much to my mother’s annoyance). They were fantastic.
And I’m going to do it again. Producing something to share with others feeds me as well, especially when it turns out well. I like to give back. (well, on my terms. Someone asked for my tiramisu recipe and I laughed at her. I think she whined to Mom afterwards because I heard about it).
Way back in the 1970s, we had a subscription to Gourmet magazine. I pored over those things, studying the pictures and the recipes. As a pre-teen in Vermont (not knocking the state, but this was before the foodie movement was born and garlic was an exotic spice), I didn’t understand a lot of the ingredients or cooking methods, but I did take on one recipe:
Baked Alaska.
I don’t know how I persuaded my parents to let me give it a shot, but Dad (whose birthday was today, Feb 7) cut a small board for me to use as the platform (according to the directions) and the folks bought 3 kinds of ice cream, brandy, and rum, and everything else. I studied that recipe for a couple of days before making it, and then…
Game day: supporting cake made, soaked in brandy. Ice cream whipped and frozen into 3 layers, and egg whites beaten into fluffy insulating meringue. Assembly, quick browning under the broiler, which caused a leak which made me cry but then, who else has made Baked Alaska? At 13? I was too stupid to know I could fail.
Anyway, I made another one later and it worked. Unfortunately, that was the last because my brother took my board and used it for his fish gutting operation.
I’m looking for that recipe. I’m going to make it again. And cheesecake. And stuffed cabbage. It brings me joy. Joy is in short supply these days.
January 31, 2017
The Electronic Soapbox
I’m going to use this space, my space, to address something.
If you know me in real life, you know I’m not a shrinking violet. You also know that I think the current President is a “disastuh,” to use one of his favorite words, and I genuinely believe the United States of America may have actually passed from democracy to oligarchy. This angers and grieves me no end. Prior to this administration, my political activity was voting and running my mouth, in person and on social media. The picture here is something I first saw in an American History textbook I still have from my second semester at UVM (1980. You do the math). I think it fits our current situation.
Do you not see what’s coming?
Since the 2016 election, I have joined the ACLU (not as an attorney), EMILY’s List, Brand New Congress, and other organizations loosely known as “The Resistance.” If you’re a regular reader of this blog, we’ve covered this territory.
However,
I participated in a Facebook comment thread the other day on another author’s page. The topic was about readers unfollowing authors because they’ve become too political. (Notice that I didn’t put that in quotes. I’m not repeating that sarcastically or ironically. It’s someone else’s view). One of the comments said that books are an escape from real life and the person who posted the comment didn’t want her experience with books to be polluted by real life (well, she phrased it differently, but you get the idea. I don’t remember how she phrased it). Please note, I am not disagreeing with or judging or deriding her.
I can see that viewpoint. It’s a valid one. Sometimes, our psychic (not ESP, but mental) barrier between the imaginary worlds that are an escape and the real world from which we want the escape are delicate. If the real world intrudes just once, the barrier may be destroyed forever and that lovely oasis lost. I get that.
On the other hand…
Novels like “Animal Farm” and “1984,” the two biggies, have been influential in changing thought (and with the current Administration, we have our Napoleon, our Squealer, and you can make the novel fit). Upton Sinclair’s novel, “The Jungle,” while not a political book, helped lead to slaughterhouse reform and “cleaner” food.
One of my heroes is Dorothy Parker, founding member of the Algonquin Round Table, aka “The Vicious Circle,” and an icon of hit and run snark.
She’ still the gold standard
Any politics (other than gender politics) in Dottie’s writing are coded. However, she was not afraid to take a stand and put her money where her wit was and protest injustice, whether it was Sacco and Vanzetti (2 innocent men convicted and executed for a murder because they were belonged to an anarchist movement)
Dorothy protesting for Sacco and Vanzetti
or against HUAC (the House Unamerican Activities Committee. Joe McCarthy. Red plague, Commies, all that jazz. His buddy, Roy Cohn, a deeply closeted gay man who used his influence to ruin the lives of other gay men, wrote President #45’s pre-nuptial agreement for his first marriage. The one that #45 weaseled out of. Schmuck).
They didn’t keep quiet
We are in a different time from the 1920s, 1950s. Duh. I can tell you that the lines are blurred on social media (for me, anyway) between personal and “professional” as an author. I have one Twitter account that I use for both. And this blog. If I tweet or retweet something political, it’s going to show up on my Facebook feed (because those are the settings I established before President # 45 even declared his candidacy). People will approve, be disgusted, unfollow me (What the hell, two of my siblings have BLOCKED me on Facebook. One I used to worship, then that person did a bunch of shit that felt like I was just someone to be taken advantage of, the other one has hated me from Day 1. Destroyed anything of mine that I left unguarded (collectibles, dresses, pictures) while telling me “You’re lucky I’m so forgiving.” No, Sweetie, I forgive you because your shit will bite you in the ass. But I digress)
I will make an effort to keep my personal out of the professional (not that I have a shit ton of followers in the first place), although I have notes, notes, notes, and an unfinished manuscript for a political farce (and how that has resurfaced is a whooooole other blog post). I had a separate email address for my authorship activities, but that has been “abandoned” so long, Google can’t verify my ownership and I can’t retrieve what’s there (offers to sell my stories for millions of dollars, praise from Oprah Winfrey and Cher, a lucrative publishing deal). However, I encourage, exhort, urge (and I have a bigger vocab than #45. I have a lot more words. I have even better words than your tired, overused “best words.”) my fellow Americans to get involved in politics beyond just voting (and if you agree with #45, but you didn’t even vote, I don’t care. Get off your butt and get involved NOW. Democracy doesn’t run on autopilot).
In the near future, I will use this space to announce new Twitter handles (maybe) and a new email address for “author stuff.” Until then, go buy my books. It’ll keep me busy and quiet.
January 30, 2017
Promotion!
Well, promoting my books is the purpose of this page (when I’m not veering off topic or doing something other than writing).
Right now, I am one of BookRhythm’s featured authors. Really:
And if you’re interested, I’m participating in a giveaway over at their site:
#ENTERBOOKRHYMSEVENTSDAILY
You can win a Kindle! Woo Hoo!
Who doesn’t want free electronics? Go sign up!
Go Sign Up!
Or drop and give me 50!
January 25, 2017
This Blog Ain’t Gonna Write Itself
People are amazed and impressed when you write a book.
“Oh, my God!,” they say, “ You must LOVE to write.” They see us author types as constantly, happily bent over a keyboard madly pounding away in a frenzy of verbs, nouns, maybe with a little sex (“Sullivan’s Travels” reference. Great movie and you’ll see lots of nods to it in “O Brother, Where Art Thou?”) , emerging from solitude happy, exhausted, disheveled, malodorous (because we’re so busy creating that we forget to bathe) clutching pages and pages of glorious word art. “I could never do that.”
Well, between you and me, based on emails and Facebook, the basics of English composition and grammar plumb evaded them. “Lie” is fast fading as the correct verb for putting oneself into a horizontal position; the bastard “lay” is usurping the throne. YOU LIE DOWN. THE DOG LIES DOWN. I LIE DOWN BECAUSE I HAVE A POUNDING HEADACHE FROM ABUSE OF THE WORD “LAY.” There is a reason, People, that the phrase is “get laid,” because the seducer is laying you (putting you horizontally) down on a bed. (And all you smartasses who want to snigger and post comments about various positions – don’t even thi…well, wait a minute. If they’re good comments and get some attention…NO! EXTREMISM IN THE PURSUIT OF GOOD WRITING IS NO VICE.
It may be a losing cause, but I’ll continue to fight a rear-guard action like the Spartans at Thermopylae.
Woo.
Where was I? Ah yes, writing.
I do not happily pound a keyboard. Years of pounding keyboards for a living plus being enough of a klutz to have fractured the navicular bone in both wrists have made the actual typing of writing somewhat uncomfortable and stirs up carpal tunnel-like symptoms. Y’all can imagine how much fun that is.
I do write during the weekday. I make terse, yet helpful comments on mortgage loan files. I write short, clipped sentences about homeowner’s insurance, disclosures, and whatever else I spot. No, “Hortense pondered what to write on her application. Would they believe she could afford a $500,000 house on a McDonalds part-time salary which her mom was actually buying as an investment?” (No. I can read.
And I have common sense)
It has been three and half years since I published my books and I have fragments of other stories and notes for still more on various hard drives, scribbled in what appears to be a lost alphabet of Middle Earth in fifty-cent composition books and sheaves of paper locked in a small filing cabinet 3,000 miles from me. See me rushing to retrieve it so I can continue my work?
After his death, Douglas Adams’ computers (he had several) were searched and a host of story fragments, imaginary interviews and other intriguing tidbits were found. I can relate.
I’m not lazy so much as I excel at procrastinating. And it’s fun. Suddenly, sorting through beads, completing my tax return, playing endless games of Spider Solitaire (although that’s how I do my thinking for writing. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. Alternative fact), doing laundry, all become absorbing and fascinating when the alternative is to transfer thoughts out of one’s head and into a medium where other people can see it. Unless those other people are psychics and I’ll just sit still and let them read the story in my head because my “process” (Ewww, how hipster and arty) is that I “watch a movie” of the story in my mind’s eye, then try to retell it to the reader. That’s the sucky part right there.
Blogging is procrastination. And I even procrastinate that.
“Drinking,” you say. “The great writers drank.” Yes, and died of cirrhosis, suicide, cancer, being totally broke and homeless because they drank all their royalties or an ex-spouse got them in one of your divorces (Glenda? Theresa? Charles? I can’t remember)
“Well, how about one of those voice to text softwares?” Yeeeah. Right. Until I get a story rolling, I feel disconnected* (“disconnect is a verb. Not a noun. Another losing battle for me) from what I’m doing. I have to start in longhand until things establish themselves. I shit you not. It’s like putting a standard transmission in first gear and rolling down hit until you hit 5 to 10 MPH then you pop the clutch. With the voice to text dictation, you have to also include the punctuation as you dictate. Doesn’t make for the greatest flow, “Jerry slid his warm [comma] long[dash]fingered hand down Luella[apostrophe s] silken thigh [period][quotation marks] [capital M]y darling[‘comma] {quotation marks] he whispered[comma][quotation marks] I want to put my [laughable euphemism for genitals]
You get the idea.
However, if I do not write all these “movies” I have inside me, I will kick myself. Hard. Very hard. I think they’re good. I think you’ll like them. However, there is a pregnancy and labor of undetermined duration to undergo before they emerge, covered in goo and screaming for attention, into the world. (And then it’s time for the Amazon reviews to show up. Oy)
Or as is more often the case, it’s like passing a kidney stone.
Time to procrastinate.
January 23, 2017
What I Saw at the (Newish) Revolution
with a hearty “Fuck you” to Reagan apologist Peggy Noonan. Your crew put a lot of shit into motion that has effectively hamstrung the American middle class.
I participated in the Women’s March on January 21 as promised. I was at the Palm Beach, FL rally. They expected 1,500 people, got 3,000 RSVPs and the final estimate of the crowd was 7,000. Seems this happened at all rallies (except Antarctica. I think they got exactly the number they expected).
All 7 continents!
I’m hearing the same thing about all the Marches/Rallies: they were peaceful. Upwards of 3 million people assembling around the world and no arrests. In fact, a group of the marchers in DC sang “Happy Birthday” to a cop.
Peaceful, I tell ya.
http://www.wfaa.com/news/local/womens-march-protesters-serenade-dc-police-officer/389951026
My group and I were heading home (actually, it was me, my friend, and three ladies we met on our way to the rally) before we were hassled. That was by a random man who decided he was going to lecture us on abortion because when women march obviously, that’s we’re planning to kill babies.
I’ve seen posts on Facebook from people telling us to “get over it” in terms of the election results
Oh yeah.
and just accept them. And posts from people condemning the marchers for wanting to kill babies.
You guys, this was so much more than that.
Women deserve respect.
Yes, there were signs with coat hangers and Pro Choice messages. There were signs protesting the attempts to kill Planned Parenthood. “Aha!” you say, “So this was all about reproductive rights!”
Not even close.
There were signs for LGBTQ rights. Signs for immigration rights. Signs for equal pay and a higher minimum wage. Signs for mental health care. Signs about respect. Signs for veterans, Black Lives Matter, protecting Muslims from official harassment, climate change (Gaia is a female construct. MOTHER Earth)
The numbers of people hitting the streets and the diversity of issues presented said a lot about how the new President and his agenda is viewed. Inaugural speeches are usually upbeat, speak of unity and progress, and speak of a better future. “New Frontier.” “Ask not what your country can do for you. Ask what you can do for your country.” “We have nothing to fear but fear itself.” “With malice toward none, with charity for all…” are the kinds of classic phrases that have come from inaugural speeches. What did we get January 20th? “American carnage.” “radical Islamic terrorism.” That won’t do. I will not fear. I’d like to think that, if necessary, I would stand my ground against tyranny like this:
This is courage.
The message of fear was stopped by millions lacing up their sneakers, donning pussy hats (not me. And I’m not showing you pictures of me from Saturday because I look like a weird-looking old man), and hoisting signs demanding respect, equality, and services for better lives for all.
Hope. Love. Apply liberally
I’m going to sum up with another picture (it’s how I get you guys to read these things)
