Today is a look forward, back, and side-wise. It is a speculation on a future as yet unformed. All of the past ceased to exist when the present moment came into existence, and all of tomorrow can never exist for this moment in time is all that can exist. Embracing this truth means knowing that everything before this breath reaches the bottom of my lungs has faded as fog to the morning sun, and all that I can be, have, do, think, and will must be chosen within the space of that breath. That knowledge is mighty and terrifying in its entirety, for I must choose well or continue to hide from disturbing consequences that greet me each moment of the rest of my life.

I'm playing again today, trying to decide how many of these I can create for a wee chapbook. Let me know what you think. The feedback will help me determine which goes in and which stays out.

Thanks for giving your opinion on 1.) whether poem is accentuated by this photo, 2.) whether placement of poem should shift to a different position or take on a different color font, or 3.) should I give up the idea of doing a chapbook of this type.

Waiting for opinions,

Claudsy

Days of Learning, Days of Growing

Courtesy of BJ Jones Photography

This past couples of weeks has been interesting. Have you ever had a time in your life when you seem to have gone back to school, but you don’t go to class? It’s as if everywhere you go, everything you encounter are lessons of one form or another.

What do you do with the experience of meeting a person casually who begins telling you their life story at that moment, for seemingly no other reason than because you happen to stand next to them? And what do you do when something in what they say “clicks” in your head audibly, telling you that this bit of information, this insight is something that must be remembered?

Here’s another example. I’ve been concentrating on several small projects lately aside from the blogs and website. I send out at least two, sometimes three, submissions each week; poetry at least once and fiction. I’m putting together a growing list of submission markets for both genres.

My biggest project at present is my book of poetry “The Moon Sees All.” It’s out with my beta readers. It’s being poked, prodded, and evaluated for necessary/suggested changes to make it absolutely irresistible to publishers. That’s an enormous step for me.

My rejection rate is decreasing. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not complaining. I’d just like to know the reason. In the meantime, I’ll accept this change and the blessing.

Life seems more settled for me in many ways right now. I actively write less, but produce better, given the acceptances lately. I don’t feel harried any longer, which is another blessing. On top of all that, these tiny lessons in changing my thoughts, attitudes, aspirations, etc. have begun bearing fruit in small but effective ways.

Perhaps, in the end, that’s really the take-away for life. Small changes—choosing to spend the day enjoying the outdoors and appreciating those natural gifts we can only experience where they live—repay us with fresher minds and hearts. Our spirits are rejuvenated because we focused on something outside ourselves for a while.

Doing the dishes allows for quiet thinking time. It isn’t the task that’s so important, it’s the time you spend with yourself, considering and pondering those caches of thoughts tucked away in mental closets that you’ve not had time for lately. Mundane chores, while necessary to a tidy household, are also opportunities to review, renew, and reconnect with that piece of yourself that you’ve neglected.

At least, that’s what I’ve concluded. For instance, a few weeks back I showed everyone my office area and how bad it was in the disorder department.  I’m about to get radical with it. I’m clearing out those things that don’t grow corn for me anymore.

About half of the items occupying my space will be eliminated in the next few weeks. I am simplifying my life, my work, and my intentions. The goals remain the same. It’s the approach that needs a clean sweep.

And there you have it. Part of my studying has led me here. The rest comes from lessons encountered willy-nilly in unexpected places.

Things should get really interesting before long. I’m looking forward to it.

Now, let me ask you again. Have you been given surprising lessons lately? Leave a comment and tell me about them. We all have them. It’s whether we recognize their delivery or not.

Until later,

Claudsy

Taking Stock

Once in a while, like everyone, I have to pause long enough to take stock of things that are going on in my life. This past week has been a really good one.

Two of my poems were accepted by the literary journal, Four and Twenty Short Form Poetry; one “Moon Paths” for the July 17 issue, and one “Seniority” for their online promos. I couldn’t be happier with this news.

The past couple of days I’ve been working to finish the final edit on my book of poetry “Moon Sees All” before sending it off to beta readers. I put out a call yesterday for those readers and have received a marvelous and enthusiastic response. As soon as I get the finishing touches on the manuscript and get it reformatted as a PDF, I can send it to those lovely readers on Thursday.

Since I’ll be incommunicado from Friday through Sunday, I have plenty to get set up for my working week beginning on that absent Sunday. The editorial calendar is in place for Two Voices, One Song and will take effect on July 8^th as soon as Meena and I both return from trips elsewhere. That puts work onto my plate for the next three days.

What work? Oh, research for profiles, some flash fiction, themed chat and brainstorming ideas. I’d like to have several finished posts for all my blogs in place and ready for auto-downloading before I leave for a few days. That takes some of the pressure off for next week, too.

Along with that work is my attempt to catch up on all of my coursework. I’m a few lessons behind and would like to start fresh when I return. Whether I make it or not depends on a few things; mainly whether I make it harder on myself than it needs to be, which is often the case. I really have to work on that tendency of mine.

I’m also beginning to take better care of myself; a plus in anyone’s book. I came close to the crash and burn scenario a couple of weeks ago. Having been in deep doodoo before with that scenario, I’ve chosen a much healthier avenue.

A half an hour of yoga will begin my day, followed by my recumbent bike workout. At that point, a need for sustenance will take over; giving me an opportunity to continue with health consciousness and to choose something that will aid my body to get healthier. Meditation will follow later in the day when I really need a break from everything else.

I know. I tend to make full schedules for myself. It could be my age, you know. I’m at that stage where each minute seems to need some purpose, even if it’s only to be still and live within the silent moment. Over the past few months I’ve come to appreciate stillness and the inward view as a way of coping with self-imposed work demands. I’ve reduced those demands to help compensate, as well.

And there you have it; my recap and taking stock for the week.

I hope everyone has a great holiday tomorrow and fun rest of the week. If you need to, pause to take stock of your own days and what you choose to fill them with. What’s happened lately that improved your attitude, gave you reason to ponder an important question, or encouraged you to push just a bit further in pursuit of something you really desire?

Feel free to share here. I love comments and knowing what’s happening with others. Now I must return to the editing table. Take care, all, and God bless.

Claudsy

Today's sandbox at my poet's playground. I hope you enjoy it. Be sure and let me know if there are types of images or poetry that you'd like to see, or not, and I'll try to accommodate at least once a week.

Claudsy

There are times when creativity overwhelms other considerations. Hence this bit of poetry with image.               

How-To Create Writing Prompts

One of the most helpful and time-saving tasks the writer can do is to create a series of writing prompts. These prompts can be for any genre, any writing level, and any length of proposed project. If all you need is a mental push—okay, let’s talk shove here—prompts fill your plate with possibilities.

Deciding on a theme for a group of prompts can keep you in work. Whether you’re blogging or writing on spec, prompts can help keep you focused. If you enjoy writing poetry, you can keep yourself occupied forever with a few photos or subject prompts. Here are some examples for two subjects.

All you need is to give your imagination free range. Each prompt is a wisp of thought or image derived from the theme.

Theme: A coastal location and a brewing storm (This theme has driven prose and poetry alike for centuries.) 

·       Prompts

o   A lost child is calling

o   Returning home

o   Sunken treasure

o   Selkies—mythical creatures

Theme: A Winter’s Day

·       Prompts

o   Old-fashioned sledding with shovels

o   Bitter cold and the walk home

o   Deep snow hinders free movement

o   Bright blue skies and snow-burdened pines

None of these prompts took time to conger up. They were waiting there, just under the surface, vying for attention. What can you do with such small prompts?

Any of these could be the basis of a short story, a poem, an article, or a profile. A Profile?

Yes, a profile. Look at it this way. How many times have you read an article about a lost child calling for help until someone hears? There’s a rescue, emergency personnel, etc. And how many times is the child interviewed? What about the rescuer? Sometimes they fade into obscurity or anonymity. In times past, they’re often ignored. Or, what about when the rescuer is an animal? Can you think of an angle where a profile can be done on the one ignored, or the animal praised and forgotten? Could this not be a historical article?

Selkies? Really? Dig a little into mythological history and see what you find. These are fascinating creatures; ones still accepted as real among some fishermen. Could you not put verse together about these, a piece of short fiction, or perhaps an article on mythical creatures in today's world?

Bright blue skies and snow-burdened pines are an idyllic winter scene, but what is the danger here? Can you find it? If you live in the Deep South, would this be heavenly or hellish? Perspective defines all things.

Taking the time to put together short writing prompts, to themes which interest you or can further express your thoughts and ideas, can keep you writing, even when you’re facing that blank page and empty mind syndrome known as writer’s block. Give it whirl. What do you have to lose? I’d be willing to bet you can get through to the end without your mind triggering on one of your generated prompts.

Enjoy the exercise. It helps tone a writer’s idea muscles. Until later,

Claudsy

We're Having an Interview

Just a short note to announce that children's writer, Denise Stanley, posted an interview with me on her lovely site, A Room to Write. Please feel free to slide over there, read all the "juicy secrets" and leave a comment or question. I'll try to field questions as quickly as possible during today and tomorrow.


Thank you everyone for your kind attention. I return you now to your regularly scheduled snooze. 


Later,


Claudsy

Planning for the Month Ahead

During this past couple of months I’ve spent most of my spare writing time working on my Wordpress blog, with daily postings related to a central theme. This month’s theme was “Whether.” Nothing else, just “Whether.” I decided, for those who haven’t dropped by one of my other homes yet, to write about aspects of a writer’s life and work.

Each post title begins with the word “Whether” and tries to reflect the heart of the post’s theme. I’m not sure if I succeeded with my final desire. I know that I received more likes from April 1 to April 20 than I’ve ever received in one month before. That’s going some.

What I discovered is that I can suck the life out of a subject and still find something more to write about it. I wonder what else I can find to write about for the next few days before April arrives. Just call me “Vampira.”

Next month is almost a predictable theme. POEM. Since April is National Poetry Month, having this theme makes perfect sense.

Now, let’s look at that scenario before trying for substance on it. Robert Brewer’s Poetic Asides site will have its annual poem-a-day challenge going, with the end result being a chapbook manuscript to be submitted for competition and possible publication.

My friend Marie Elena and her poetic partner in cyberville, Walt, will probably have more goodies lined up on their poetry site, Poetic Bloomings. Several of the other sites dealing in verse will undoubtedly have goings-on that will rival the upcoming Maypole dance.

Which should I go for this coming month? It’s not like I haven’t anything else to do but write poems.

I could do Robert’s challenge prompt each day and also post it on my Claudsy’s Blog and on BlogHer. I think that would be cheating, though, and have to reconsider that to find out if I’m allowed to do that. Either way, I would be writing a lot of poetry throughout those halcyon days of Ares’ month, if I take up either challenge—BlogHer, Poetic Aides, and/or any of the others available.

As my friends know, I have no trouble writing poetry. I enjoy it more than most things, when I allow myself to take the time to produce it. I think what bothers me about it is that revision of it is such a pain. When I write verse, it’s instinctual, immediate.

I don’t what to have to analyze the intimate feelings that brought those particular words to the front of my consciousness and placed them on paper. I want raw emotion, not devised and controlled feeling that insinuates itself into the reader’s mind during the reading process. I want the reader to see and feel it as I did when I wrote it. I want the reader to envision that instant that’s been placed in physical form upon the page.

That need of my own may be the most poetic thing about what I do when I put words on paper for others to read. Visceral response should be the only response, to my way of thinking. That’s what verse is for me. Shakespeare wrote from the gut. Its form of verse tells a story that resonates within the sinuses upon reading aloud. Whitman did the same when he wrote about his take on the world and our place in it, about how we treated each other and ourselves.

There is no thought in my mind of advancing to great acclaim for verse I produce. My only need is to translate personal feelings and perceptions into some concrete form that approximates the echoes of nebulous and insubstantial stimuli.

April, a month of verse, arrives in five days. How many others out there will accept the challenge, is unknown. Would that each could take but a moment to place simple words on a page for the purpose of holding on to that moment in time.

TTFN, all

Claudsy

Can This Be Love

Can this be love which causes my fingers to twitch? Is it that quivery, nerve-tingling emotion that narrows my eyes, wrinkles my brow in concentration, or causes my eyes to lose outer focus in order to see only the movie playing within?

Just because words fascinate me, and the thought of constructing the perfect sentence drives me onward, doesn’t mean that I’ve fallen in love, does it?

If so, I’m horribly lost in this entanglement of feelings with no hope of escape. I have so few moments in my word-cluttered day in which pure thought of something other takes hold long enough to distract me from this suffocating passion.

Poems flit about my head as so many hummingbirds, stabbing toward possible feeding stations with pointed beaks, hovering over gardens of flowery prose in search of the quintessential expression of such vibrant blossoms of thought. Chittering communications between these winged messengers of joy fill my hearing with tantalizing snippets for the taking, if only I could understand the language.

I no longer need outer images to fuel my flights of fancy any more than my hummingbirds need solid fuel to power their wings. I’ve passed that stage of this thing called a “Love of Words,” a “Passion for Prose,” or a “Love Affair with Ideas.”

Yes, I admit it! I have fallen madly, deeply, irrevocably in love with language and its expressions across the face of literature and the world. I admit it! I cannot live without it nestled in my heart. And never will I allow anyone to pry it from my mind or fingers. Without it, I cannot see the world, nor would I want to.

Thank you for listening. I feel better now for having gotten that out. I know there are others who feel similarly. Please, take the time to express your own feelings on the subject. Tell the world how you feel about this philandering lover who keeps you waiting at the altar of creation, then begs to be taken back into your arms for another dance around the floor.

Until later,

Claudsy

Promotions Rethink

Every writer inevitably must turn her mind to promoting her work. That’s something many of us don’t want to think about early in our writing experience. It’s scary, intimidating, and tends to smack of the ego.

Writers talk about publishing and marketing on a regular basis as a rule. Seminars, workshops, and articles instruct writers, regardless of experience level, on the best and easiest ways to pursue this course of necessary work. The stumbling block for some, like me, is when we must take a more intimate role in the process.

For instance, right now I have three poems in an anthology just released this past weekend. “Prompted: An International Collection of Poems” contains 120 poems grouped around ten poetry writing prompts. Forty poets contributed three poems each for this anthology, plus created two strand poems to specific prompts for the book. Our publisher is in England, our poets live around the world, and the Foreword is penned by none other than Robert Brewer of WD’s Poetic Asides fame.

We’ve taken the step to sign over proceeds to the LitWorld charity to promote and develop literacy globally, and we must promote the book. We are proud of our efforts and should be. We have award-winning poets here who are sharing their work.

Something we’re doing must be right. “Prompted…” sits at the top of the New Released Anthologies list on Amazon, and managed to make it there within its first days after release.

You’re probably wondering why I’m concerned about promoting this book. I’m not really concerned about this book’s advertising per se. I don’t mind telling everyone I know about the fascinating choices of poems and the diversity of voices and perspectives on each subject.

The book is a joy to promote, not because my work is in it, but because mine is such a small percentage of the work showcased. For someone in a business rampant with those who seek recognition and fame, I’m one of those who want to have anonymous recognition.

I want my work recognized without having to stand on the corner, hawking my wares. It smacks of insincerity, political arenas, and a snake-oil mentality. Now you see why I didn’t continue to write commercials years ago.

Though I want everyone to buy one of the anthologies to enjoy the work and words of such fine poets as grace its pages, I feel inadequate to the task of promoting it. The worry of whether friends, colleagues, and family will think less of me circle above my head, weighty and menacing.

Is there any real chance that I will lose respect of others? Probably not. Does that answer sooth me. No, it doesn’t, especially right now at the holidays.

However, I will take up the gauntlet, stand on that podium, and say in a loudly ringing voice, “Please show your support for the spread of literacy across the globe, to towns and villages otherwise without a chance, and zip over to Amazon.com/ and select one copy or more of “Prompted: An International Collection of Poems.”

There! I’ve done it. Now to other networks, other readers, writers, and delvers into the esoteric pages of poetry. Thank you all for listening to one introvert stumble through her first personal book promotion. I’ve met the challenge and come away without any visible wounds. You’ve been most kind to me.

Until later,

Claudsy

View From the Road

I wanted to show you all the kind of autumn day that comes our way here in northwest Montana. With Jo's permission, I put  this together with a poem I wrote for the occasion. I hope you all enjoy it on this marvelous Sunday afternoon.

Think of this as my little postcard to you all.

Claudsy

Family Separation, Disconnection, and Chaos Theory

What happens when you’re suddenly contacted by someone you’ve not seen nor talked to in 26 years? Stick around and let me tell you what happened to me.

Last week when I called my father, who’s recuperating from hip surgery in a convalescent center, I got to talk to my brother who happened to be in the room at the time. He asked me if I wanted the phone number and email addy of my first cousin, Pat. I took up pencil and paper and duly wrote down the information. Color me too  shocked to object or question anything.

It seems that she’d paid a visit to Dad that day while visiting with an old classmate. She even brought along the classmate. She’d been thinking about him recently, had spoken to her friend about not being able to contact him, and this classmate happened to be in Burger King one day to discover someone who knew Dad. In that round-about way, Pat was informed of his stay at the convalescent center.

Talk about your seven degrees of separation!

The upshot was that I now had in my possession the information to make contact possible after 26 years. The oddest part of this story, I suppose, was that this cousin had been on my mind for a couple of weeks. I had no clue why I kept thinking about her, though. Couple that oddity with the fact that all of a sudden I’d been picking up friend requests from writers from Indiana for a solid week, when I had no others before that. Now you can glimpse my need to shiver a bit.

Yep, things aren’t always what they seem on the surface, unless you’re like me, and have dealt with too many coincidences in the past to take them lightly. There is no such thing as a coincidence, in my humble opinion.

I contacted Pat, who now goes by a different nickname, by email. It was short and sweet and inviting. She responded immediately and we’ve been corresponding daily since.

We’re getting reacquainted. As we all know, people change over time. Life does that to a person. I’ve learned some things about this lovely woman that I would never have expected. For instance, she loves poetry and buys books of poetry every time she finds a poet that she can click with. She's happily used her time to garden since she retired a few years ago.

These are the kinds of things that I would have known if we could have communicated over those intervening years. We’ve lost time with each other. We’ve lost our connections. As we grow older, having family contemporaries becomes more difficult.

She is one of only three cousins of my age—within a year or so—on either side of my family. That’s a really small pool to draw from, and she’s the only relative that I know left on my mother’s side of the family. That pool just got dangerously small.

Why am I talking about all of this? It has to do with recognizing how fragile connections and communication really are. It focuses one’s attention on those bits of self that have been left behind; bits that impacted other people that one never expected. And, it allows for more examples of those seven degrees of separation that Chaos Theory is always shoving down our throats.

Remember I said that Pat loves poetry. I sent her a link to some of my published poems on the Soft Whispers site. She came back to me expressing her pleasure in a specific poem and told me how much it reminded her of her favorite poet, Gwen Frostic. She told me that she used to go to Gwen’s studio each year to get any new books of poetry that had come out since the last visit.

Now I’d never heard of that poet, but I remedied that with a Google search. Though deceased now, Gwen became an instant favorite of my own, as well. Look her up and see if you can figure out why. Her books are also still available on Amazon. Somehow I can see an order in my future.

I discovered a new poet, introduced to me by a cousin long estranged, reconnected with a much forgotten past, from a place I hadn’t lived in 26 years. I think that’s a good week’s work, don’t you?

I’m just trying to figure out what I’m going to discover this week. Until I find out, take care, all, and may blessings litter you path through life.

Claudsy

Let The Insanity Begin

That's right, folks. NaNoWriMo is here, rip-rearing to go. Yours truly will be on the frontlines again this year. Perhaps with hard work, determination, and loads of luck, I'll be able to finish this time around. Family crises have keep me from that goal two years running, so this year I've loaded my weapon of choice and readied to punch out a couple of marketable books of poetry out of this.

I do know that this is for a novel. I haven't had any luck trying to do novels during this monthly endeavor, so I thought I'd switch tacks and try something new. I know it doesn't fit the criteria, but people, criteria is for the writer doing the work. Right. A badge of completion is a wonderful thing. But for me, it's the dedication of the month to doing only writing on one selected project to get it to a point where finishing it is doable in a short amount of time and getting it out to publishers.

I have these two books of poetry I need to get written for me. Not for anyone else. Personally, I do have three such books to do, but I thought that might stretch things a bit. To that end, I picked up a children's illustrated story book instead.

Thank you. Thank you very much. I do know I'm slipped a few gears. But it was so kind of you to point that out so that it's been verified.

Now that you know how I'll be spending most of my time for the next month, what do you intend to do to keep yourself occupied?

I've been submitting articles, stories, and poems like mad for the past few weeks, so that I could clear the way for this wonderful challenge.

Have a great week, my friends. If you're doing NaNo along with me and the rest of my friends, good luck, and have lots of fun along the way. I'll drop in here every few days to report on my progress. I'll consider that my coffee break around the water cooler.

Until then,

Claudsy