D.G. Kaye's Blog, page 173

A Post About Reblogging

 

I’m writing this post because it has come to my attention several times by some of my readers that they occasionally wanted to reblog some of my posts but commented that there was no ‘reblog‘ button on my page to share.

As readers and writers, we are not all technically gifted and that little button makes it easy to share the blog instantly to your own blog. Unfortunately, when someone owns their own domain, that is, not having their blog on WordPress.com, they aren’t afforded the ability to add a ‘reblog‘ button from the plugins in their dashboards. When I first moved to my own site from WordPress, I had installed a plugin called ‘repost‘ to enable readers to copy my blog post over to their own blog. That button has since become invalid as the owner of the plugin discontinued it, hence I have removed it.

You may notice on many writer’s self-owned blogs, that there isn’t a reblog button on their pages. But there is in fact a way for everyone to be able to reblog any post using “Press This“. This is a tool you can download from your “tools” widget in your dashboards of your blogs which will install a little icon on your tool bar, or you can save to your favourites, wherever you choose it to go.

I use this handy little marklet myself for reblogging other’s posts. All I do is when I’m on a post that I’d like to reblog, is go to my favourites, scroll to “Press This”, click on it, and a screen pops up asking me if I’d like to save or publish the article of the page I am on. It’s that easy and convenient. I then save it so that when I’m ready to put the post together, the link to the blog has been saved to my drafts.

I hope this helps many of you. And remember, the courtesy of reblogging is to always link back to the person’s website in the post where you took the article from. This gives them the recognition for their work that has been shared on your page. This helps immensely to avoid copyright infringements, and beware that there are certain posts that you may have to obtain their permission to use.

When I reblog someone else’s post, I like to message them and let them know I have reposted their work, as a courtesy. Now, feel free to reblog this.

Click on the highlighted “Press This” if you’d like to read more about “Press This“

Find The Tail End Of A Rainbow And Hang On | Healing Beyond Survival

 

 

 

Mandy Smith is a wonderful memoir writer. We connected about a few months ago when we found a common thread about our writing. I was pleasantly surprised when Mandy told me that she had read my memoir, Conflicted Hearts and wrote a lovely review after reading it. Mandy has her own  blog, Healing Beyond Survival. which she writes on the subject of child abuse and shares intimate posts from parts of her upcoming memoir.

Thank you Mandy.

By
Mandy (Oregon)

Verified Purchase
This review is from: Conflicted Hearts: A Daughter’s Quest for Solace from Emotional Guilt (Kindle Edition)
Child abuse and neglect happen to a lot of people. Many victims of abuse put one foot in front of the other for the rest of their lives and call it surviving. But, D. G. Kaye shows us in “Conflicted Hearts” what it’s like when you catch the tail end of a rainbow—and hang on. Early on in this story, I sensed the strength and tenacity of Kaye as the young girl, coping with a turbulent childhood: Cruel treatment and neglect by her mother and the guilt of feeling like a bad child. Her many successes in early adulthood are overshadowed by the lingering guilt from her childhood abuse. However, “survive” she does. Kaye’s real test comes when she confronts life or death health problems; that’s when the real strength of this author shines—a true example of thriving. I especially loved when she says at the end of the book “when life throws you curve balls you learn to catch.”“Conflicted Hearts” will appeal to survivors of abuse (of any kind), to those who struggle with guilt and, especially, to those who need a reason to believe in rainbows and the recipe to hang on!

Thank you Mandy for reading my book and taking the time to post this lovely review.

Speaking about this book Conflicted Hearts, I would like to let you all in on two newsworthy items:

1. I have been writing a sequel to this book for the past year now and anticipate it to be finished and hopefully published by year’s end. The first book was left with some unanswered questions and resolution while I wrote and published with unsettled angst because my mother was still alive at the time. I knew when she passed that the pen would guide me to delve into and clarify much of what stayed stuck within me. My mother passed in October of 2014 and even though I had begun writing the sequel long before her passing, there was much more to be said.


2. Conflicted Hearts will be on Kindle promo for 5 FREE Days beginning this Friday January 23 through January 27th on Amazon. Please feel free to click on the highlighted universal  URL here to have a look inside the book and download. www.smarturl.it/bookconflictedhearts

Saving Relationships

 

Having  few good mottos and mantras are some good practices to live by. I have several, and coming from a broken home where many unkind words were said between my parents, made me cringe as a child and sent nervous butterflies swimming around my stomach. Some people follow suit, mimicking words and actions from what they had heard and seen as they were growing up. But gratefully, I took heed to those things, especially when my sensitivity to hurtful things recognized them as unhealthy patterns to follow.

I’ve always been about kindness and compassion, empathy and pathos. I try my best not to hurt anyone intentionally, I look at life and it’s punches with a glass half full attitude, and I also tend to feel others’ pain when they are hurting. Because of these things, one of my mantras has always been “Do unto others as you wish to be done unto you.” I write a lot about hurtful words and how they have the propensity to stick with us through life, most recently in my latest book, Words We Carry. In my book there is a sentence I wrote, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me, is a fallacy.”

A few months ago, I was at my dentist’s office and as always, I shared some great conversation with my hygienist, Miriam. She is a great fan of my books, and when I saw her that day, Miriam thanked me for some words of wisdom I shared with her. We had been chatting about her recent marriage and all that relationships can entail in the early stages of marriage as two young people acclimatize to one another’s lifestyle habits. We all know that life isn’t always a bowl of cherries and we are bound to have disagreements at times.

Miriam was asking me some questions about when couples disagree and get angry with one another, how to avoid blow-ups, which I had written about in my book and she found very useful. I first reminded her to always count to ten in her head before spewing something out of the moment’s anger, because we can never take those words back. Oh sure we can apologize, but the effect those words leave behind will always remain like a stain engraved in the mind of the one who was slighted.

Words are powerful. We must use them wisely. We talked about my method that I use when I’m ticked at something about my husband, the method she found so useful. I reminded her that in our heated moments, we sometimes forget the love we have for our partners and those can become the dangerous moments where words slip out that can hurt and cannot be taken back. I call it my safe method.

If I find myself upset with something my husband may have said or done and don’t feel at the moment that I can continue a civil conversation without my temper escalating and potentially getting me in regrettable hot water, I stay quiet for a few seconds and then I tell him, “I’m not your friend right now.” And then I exit the room immediately. Sometimes he will keep tailing me and try to make me talk and throw out the “Oh you don’t love me?” card.  That is when I reply with: “I love you, but I don’t like you right now, so give me my space.” This always ends the confrontation, gives us the rest of the evening, or sometimes even another day of silence between us, and by then we begin speaking, and can calmly work out our differences without any repercussions or ill feelings for hurtful words that were avoided.

Miriam thanked me for this advice and other things she took from my book and has begun to use it at the appropriate times instead of fighting dirty.I am always so happy when I learn that someone has taken something of value for themselves from my writing and experience. Hence, I love to share my thoughts and practices a lot in all my writing.

We often think the little things we do in daily life are common practice amongst everyone, but that it not always the case. Many people are always looking for helpful hints for situations they may be unaccustomed to or have no prior experience from learning certain things about, particularly because of the environments they were raised in. Perhaps they are shy or inexperienced or didn’t have freedoms or people in their lives to lead good examples in life. One never knows anybody else’s private laundry. So never be afraid to pass on good and helpful information for fear it’s being repeated. Nobody ever suffered from too much kindness.

D.G. Kaye ©2015

I Just Published my Book. Now What? | Nicholas C. Rossis

I found another one of Nicholas Rossis’ gems on his blog and I’m sharing it in the link below. Nicholas often posts great information on writing and publishing and I try not to miss any of his posts.

This post is a detailed report on his findings to help self-publish successfully. He talks about platform building, writing engaging content, choosing the correct categories for our books, and of course he gives us helpful tips on promoting.

 

I Just Published my Book. Now What? | Nicholas C. Rossis.

Bruised and Confused

Although I am posting this on the weekend. I wrote this on Day five in my new home. It’s been a brutal five days, especially moving day, last Saturday. We spent the better part of the previous week carting over boxes and small items as I packed them, in order to lessen the load for the movers.

We gave away a lot of our furniture and belongings to family, as we were downsizing once again. These factors apparently didn’t help the move take less than thirteen hours! The weather held up thankfully, through last week as we went back and forth with car loads of items to move. It was not too freezing and no snow was on the ground as we crossed our fingers it would stay like that just until Saturday’s move.

Just as the moving truck was getting ready to pull away from our home, the temps dropped drastically and the blowing snow and sleet had begun. It took the movers an hour to get to our new place which normally would have taken a half an hour. Seven hours later they finished unloading after schlepping our things from the loading dock to the elevators and down a long corridor to our apartment. Some of my furniture came up with actual snow on it, which didn’t leave me a happy camper. I mean, bad enough they left some things uncovered, but common sense . . . WIPE THE DAMN SNOW OFF before ruining my stuff!

Our fair sized condo was laden with boxes. I cleared a narrow path for us to try and walk around as I wondered where to begin unpacking. I spent time being meticulous when packing, so that I would clearly label which room every box belonged in so I wouldn’t have to spend time searching for things. Boxes aren’t cheap, and I had well over a hundred of them! We were lucky enough to get a ton of boxes donated to us by family members from a move in their own family. That was the beginning of some unforeseen mix-ups.

Some boxes had so many labels and scratch outs after being reused that the movers didn’t bother to figure out which room they really belonged in, so the hunt was on for misplaced boxes. My body obtained approximately fourteen bruises from banging into scattered boxes and furniture. I somehow sprained the top of my left foot, or so it felt like it after one day of standing fourteen hours in non-supportive shoes, but I finally found some solace in a pair of crocs I managed to pluck out of one of my too many shoe boxes. My tail bone feels as though it was sawed in half from continuous bending, and my legs and neck and shoulders feel like what I’m sure the Tin Man felt like in the Wizard of Oz.

The first two nights, I don’t think I even slept four hours a night, despite my sheer exhaustion. I woke up many times, as if my body knew it was in a strange environment. You know, that weird ‘where am I?’ feeling you sometimes get when you are on vacation and wake up a bit disoriented? I have moved five times in my fifteen years of marriage. Three of those moves were in the last four and a half years!

One may think I’d be quite used to it by now, but the older I get and the more shit I accumulate really adds up to a toll on the body. For some strange reason, this move felt like the most difficult of all moves. I don’t get it as we have downsized along the way, gave so much away and moved from a house to a condo. Perhaps it was the long and many treks of lugging stuff for days through undergrounds and elevators and corridors just to get inside the condo, but it felt like moving went on forever, and my body has the war wounds to prove it.

It was also difficult for me not to be in touch with my writing world. So many ideas whirled around my head, just wanting to land on paper at most inopportune moments, when I had to stay focused on the task at hand. On this Day five after moving in, I still have two rooms to unpack  and my body is slowly adjusting to the long days it has put in doing physical labour- other than my taped up hips that couldn’t take the punishment of eternal bending, I’m getting used to being stiff. I’m still trying to get used to my new surroundings and glad the bulk of the move is over and done with.

Only now am I looking forward to my winter vacation which I will be leaving for in less than three weeks! Heading down to the Caribbean and out of the minus thirty temps is just what the doctor ordered! A new year, a new life has begun.

In spring, we will be heading off to Arizona for a few weeks, in search of a place to rent for next winter and all winters after. This big move has afforded us for the extended winter stays away, which was the initial plan. Who knows what other great possibilities await me in my new life!

For now, I am still unpacking and stealing more computer time after not being connected for a few days. I know I have missed reading and commenting on so many of your wonderful blogs and hope to catch up in the next few weeks. And oh . . . despite cuts on every one of my knuckles, I managed to not break a single nail!!

►Greek Mythology: “The Sirens, Muses of the Lower World”.- | La Audacia de Aquiles

Today I’d like to thank the lovely Aquileana who writes incredible posts every week with great detail on the topic of Greek mythology. Her in-depth description of mythical characters and how they connect to stories  that are so easily relatable to life as we know it now, is fascinating.

Aquileana has kindly nominated me for a new award that I am thrilled to receive. It is called Hearts As One-Dreamwalker’s Drum Beat Award.

This award was created by Sue Dreamwalker’s Sanctuary; a blog which shares inspiration and kindness. In Sue’s words herself: “This is an award to pass along to bloggers who are sharing posts which are helping show our empathy, Love and Kindness, or who Highlight injustice who beat their own Drum to bring awareness to the world.”

The nominee is to nominate ten bloggers whom they choose to receive this award, display the award logo on their blog, and link back to the blogger who nominated you. Here are my nominees:

TheonethingIknowforsure

Womenwhoinspire

HolisticWayfarer

Healingbeyondsurvival

ElaineMansfield.com

Plainandfancy

Anniesperspective

Visit Aquileana’s blog below, and read her latest post on La Audacia de Aquiles.

►Greek Mythology: “The Sirens, Muses of the Lower World”.- | La Audacia de Aquiles.

Even Hemingway got them – read the rejection letters publishers sent to 11 great authors – Independent.ie

 

Just a side note here. Four days after a hectic move, I only found my way to my computer. It was a horrendous move and of courseeeeeeeee I’m going to write about it when I find a place to sit. For now I just wanted to share an interesting post here on writing, some food for thought for struggling writers to ponder until I get back on my virtual feet!

I thought I’d repost this informative article I came across which showcases rejection comments given to some of our most iconic authors. As a writer, it reminds me that editors are only human and what tastes one have may not be the same as another, which can so easily lead to a rejection without even realizing the brilliance of the work. Yet rejection is a harsh blow to our egos and only those with thick skin  can persist to follow their passion.

A few examples of rejection in the article are: Slighting Anne Frank for her writing, rejecting Herman Melville’s Moby Dick. D.H. Lawrence was asked to please don’t publish for your own sake, his Lady Chatterley’s Lover as well as Le Carre was told that he had no future when he submitted The Spy Who Came in from the Cold.

An interesting read to say the least. Click the link below and don’t forget to close your jaw back shut when you feel it dropping.

 

Even Hemingway got them – read the rejection letters publishers sent to 11 great authors – Independent.ie.

Every Child Loves Christmas – A Christmas Memoir

I wrote this post and didn’t get the chance to put it up in time for Christmas, but I believe it’s meaning holds a lot of value and still worth a read. So please forgive my tardiness because I have been in the process of moving for the last two weeks and didn’t even get to partake in the holiday spirit.

Better late than never so the old cliché goes, so I hope you have all enjoyed your holidays and made resolutions to have yourselves a wonderful 2015.

Please forgive my absence until well into next week as I will be disconnected from my virtual world on Friday through the weekend and I will have to deal with internet withdrawl until I’m reconnected after the weekend. So if you don’t see me visiting and commenting on your wonderful blogs, or responding in a timely manner here to your wonderful comments, you know that I’m up to my ears in moving and unpacking.

Enjoy your weekend and enjoy this little Christmas memoir.

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As December approached, and Christmas decorations sprouted everywhere, from the street posts to the homes all lit up, I remembered driving by them in all their glory. I was a child and wanted so badly to be part of Christmas.

Coming from a family that didn’t practice much of religion, and having Orthodox Jewish grandparents on my paternal side, didn’t afford me the luxury of having a Christmas tree. This didn’t mean that I didn’t love Christmas and all special things about it. I envied the kids who spent fun times with their families, doing traditional holidays things such as wrapping presents, singing carols and most especially, decorating the tree. Oh how I longed to have a bright and sparkly Christmas tree in my home.

When I was very young I didn’t understand why I couldn’t be a part of the festive season, and nobody explained religion to me, other than being told by my grandparents that Jews don’t celebrate that holiday. I felt empty inside. I wanted to be a part of a family celebration and other than seeing the menorah lit at my grandparent’s house or gathering there for a Passover dinner, a long time sitting for a child to listen to Hebrew prayers for what seemed like many hours, we didn’t celebrate anything. This didn’t quench my fascination  with celebrating with loved ones, nor did I feel any bonding; something I craved much of as a child.

I wanted to wrap up shiny presents and give them to people I loved. I wanted to give gifts even more than I wanted to receive them. I wanted to sing to Christmas songs and wake up Christmas day and run to the tree and open presents with my family.

When I turned eleven, my excitement for Christmas had only heightened. I decided that I just had to be a part of the tradition; if only in a small way. So I began my own ritual.

I was the eldest of four—the mother hen of my siblings. We were alone together much of our childhood and I wanted to get them as excited as I was about Christmas. I saved my allowance and went to the local drug store before Christmas eve and bought candy and little prizes with the coins I had saved, so that I could fill stockings for them. I told my siblings to hang a sock over the fireplace before they went to bed on Christmas eve. I made up little Christmas stories and convinced them that Santa loved all children, and if they would be good and not fight, Santa would come to our house too.

I filled those stockings for a few years, until the younger ones realized as they were getting older that there wasn’t really a Santa. But for those four to five years, I filled their imaginations and stockings, and they believed in the magic of Christmas. I wanted a Christmas tree so badly, and I never gave up asking my mother to allow us to have one, to no avail.

When I moved away from home, still in my teens, I got my first tree. I couldn’t wait for Christmas to come so I could go and buy the biggest tree I could find that would fit in my living room. It was a Scotch Pine and I didn’t realize just how humongous it was until it ‘thawed’ and drank lots of water, and its branches unfolded to almost eight feet wide! Not to mention the aftermath of prickly Scotch Pine tiny needles left fallen deep inside my shag carpet, long after Christmas passed. But  I was filled with excitement buying my first Christmas ornaments to decorate my very own tree. I will never forget how happy I was that Christmas eve, in my own peaceful home, sipping wine with close friends in front of the tree, on my first real Christmas eve.

I’d like to wish all of my friends here a very happy holiday season and a new year filled with health and happiness. Remember to be grateful for all of the wonderful things and people in your life, let us not take them for granted. As a very important lyric in one of the most iconic Christmas songs of all time states, Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas, reminds us: “Through the years, we all will be together, if the fates allow.” Let us love while we still all have the chance.

 

D.G. Kaye ©2014

Enjoy the song, sung by Sam Smith http://youtu.be/rnEqv8WcVq8

The Fire and “The Lady”

 

Do you believe in spirits? Have you ever sensed a ghost in your home?

Many people are skeptical about ghosts until they actually encounter an experience that they have no other explanation for. I always believed in spirits. I may have been skeptical when I was younger, but through the years, I have had encounters several times with my dear father who had passed more than twenty years ago. Those encounters were enough for me to banish any skepticism that I had.

My sister is very different than me in many ways, especially her beliefs in ghosts. She never acquired ‘the gift’ of having a sixth sense and many times throughout our lives, she’d laugh at my stories and tell me I was crazy.

Something changed when she moved into her current house over twenty years ago. She began to experience weird occurrences with electronics in her home. Often, her kids would watch TV in the basement and hear strange noises from upstairs when nobody else was home. Their TV had shut off and turned on many times through the years and they witnessed the channels changing on the TV, landing on bizarre stations, usually pertaining to death, right in the middle of watching a taped movie.

Through the years, my sister and her family began to accept the fact that a spirit was living in their home, and my sister no longer denied her belief in spirits. She had occasionally noticed an odd shadow cast on her bedroom wall which had no bearing on sunlight coming through the window. She said it was in the shape of a woman, so she decided that the presumed ghost in her house was of the same woman.

Fast forwarding to a few months ago, something very frightening, yet bizarre happened. While my sister and her boys were out at work, a fire started in her home. It was an unseasonably hot day and her air conditioner had also been broken and off for quite some time. My nephew had left the controller of one of his gaming devices on his dresser when he went to work. According to the firemen, these controllers have the propensity to explode in extreme heat. While the house was hot, the sun beamed through my nephew’s window and apparently caused the controller to explode.

Nobody knew there was a fire while the two dogs were alone with it in the house. My sister and her boys came home from work and while she started dinner, my nephew went upstairs to take a shower. He opened his bedroom door and was overwhelmed by the blackness of smoke and ashes strewn throughout his room. Nothing was left unblackened. He saw that the controller had melted itself into an imprint, burned right into the dresser where the fire began. Yet, somehow it didn’t continue to spread and by some miracle went out on its own.

Look at this picture:

It is The Lady.

The same shadow my sister had seen appear on her bedroom wall was now branded into my nephew’s dresser top.

Although the fire went out, my sister called the fire department. The firemen couldn’t fathom how a fire could start and burn with nobody home all day, and not burn the house down.

There was no logical explanation. But my sister knew instinctively that The Lady had saved her home and dogs. If you look closely at the picture, you may spot a skeleton-like skull near where the stomach would be. My sister is convinced that The Lady lived on her property years ago before the land was developed, and thinks that perhaps The Lady lost a child there, keeping her spirit around, thus protecting the home.

I can’t argue with this theory. Do you have any better explanations? Have you encountered spirits?

 

Wrapping up the Year

 

 

It was a year today that I anxiously opened the box that came by UPS moments before my hub and I were heading out the door for Christmas Eve dinner with family. Copies of my very first book I published, Conflicted Hearts, were in that box. I couldn’t wait to open it.

I remember taking off my jacket and tearing the box apart. I also remember the elation I felt when I held my very own books in my hand for the first time. As tears slid out from the corners of my eyes, I couldn’t remember another time I felt so proud. I reminisced over the year before when I began writing the book and the long months I put into revisions, editing, working on a book cover, formatting, and finally, publishing. It was a long tedious process and I had done it.

Now another year has passed. As I look back on my accomplishments, I sometimes feel that I didn’t get everything done that I wanted to. I know it was a difficult year as we spent many of my husband’s free days looking for a place to move to and when we finally found the right place, the game was on to get things in order and ready my own home for sale and pack.

This year my husband buried a daughter, a sister, a niece and I buried my mother. There were many difficult times in our life to overcome. When I look back on the year and feel as though I didn’t accomplish all I wanted to, I was kindly reminded by some good friends of all that I had accomplished.

When I really thought about it and allowed myself to take some credit, I realized how full my year was. I came back from winter vacation and began revisions on my second book, while writing my third book. My husband and I took a little jaunt to Arizona to check out the place we loved which inspired us to sell our home so we could begin spending winters there next year. By mid October I had become the published author of three books within one year, did many interviews with some wonderful writers and bloggers, kept up my blogging, got my house ready to sell, packed up my house and almost finished writing my fourth book.

No, I didn’t perfect my media kit yet, and no, my plans to publish my fourth book by year’s end didn’t pan out and those kinds of things that ruin my self-imposed deadlines really tend to eat away at me. So I am learning patience and learning that I am only human and I cannot take on everything at once single handedly.

I am moving the day after New Years. I will unpack for a few weeks, then pack up for my longgggggggg awaited winter vacation, plop my azz on a beach and exhale. I will return mid February and then I will get my writing back on track, at regular daily word count writes, complete my fourth book and aim to have it published by late spring and continue working on my fifth book, the sequel to Conflicted Hearts, which will take me the better part of the year to complete.

Life goes by us very quickly, and especially for writers who look for stolen hours or minutes sometimes, to put their craft to work. I’ve lost count how many writers ask for the same one thing—more hours in a day. It’s great to take stock of our lives sometimes when we are always rushing to get on to the next thing. I know I have been guilty of this many times, always worrying about what I have to do and giving myself deadlines to do them, and finding life sometimes gets in the way of our good intentions and we have to revise our plans. But sometimes we need to stand still, take a pause and take a look of what we’ve accomplished and stop being so hard on ourselves.

To all my friends and readers here, I wish you all a very happy holiday season and wish you all only happiness and health, foremost, for the coming year and always. Be kind to others, but remember to be kind to yourselves. Live Laugh Love, and Don’t Forget to Breathe!

As a side note, I’d like to inform you all that Words We Carry is on Holiday Sale starting today until Dec. 28th. This is my own promotion, not a kindle promo, so the sale is available globally.

Merry Bookmas!