A Little Lite Rant

 

     Everyone seems to have something to complain about these days.  The media is full of ‘analysts’ who complain about what the politicians are doing. Voters are complaining about the money being spent, or not spent, considering their economic status. Everyone is protesting or griping about the state of public education. And yet, no one wants to fix anything.

 I’ve decided that the biggest problem we have in this country is that everyone likes to complain, but no one wants to help fix things.

We are a nation of enthusiasts.

Why hasn’t someone come along and rallied the troops to fix our country? We’ve been trying to fix everybody else’s countries for years. It’s time to focus on America.

Money is not the way to go.

Throwing money at a problem never works, and often it makes the problem worse.

What we need are people willing to work for America.  We’ve seen an increase in ‘Made in America’ products. Now it is time to make our country the product.

 We can fix the political system by voting. If you don’t vote, you don’t get to complain. Every citizen over the age of 18 needs to set aside enough time to study the issues and the candidates and vote.

If you want to fix education, find a school and volunteer. Teachers work every day, whether school is in or out. Don’t let the hours fool you. Teachers have year-round homework. Students need good role models. They need individualized help. But school budgets are falling while enrollment skyrockets. Volunteer and decide for yourself if legislatures are playing fair with the money they are taking away from our future.

Get involved. It’s the only way to change things in your community, your school, and your country.

Adventure

Life is an adventure ...the ongoing story. Or more commonly known as ‘Just when things were looking up, shit happened.’ And strangely enough, several of my friends experienced similar phenomenas this week.

A tough week for all of us.

Clicking along on my laptop, I was deep into my new story when I heard rain. I checked the window. Sunshine and clear skies. The sound of rain persisted, so I left my workstation to investigate. Sunshine and rain simultaneous in Texas? Happens occasionally.

 Sun outside and rain inside? Disaster alert!

Rain showered down the inside of the dining room window, dripping from the upper window casing and ending up on the (thankfully) tile floor. Above, I could hear one of my sons in the shower.

After mopping up and exploring the upstairs bathroom, I searched the internet for a plumber. Diagnosis: a cracked tub. First estimate: $6500 to gut and redo.

We’re thinking it over. Working on a plan to get the job done for less.

Wondering if we should encourage one of the boys to skip college and go into a trade—like plumbing. Sounds like a lucrative field.

Now we wait to see what next week brings. I’ll keep you posted.

Life is Crazy

            It’s been an interesting few weeks. I spend a wildly busy week in Anaheim attending the RWA National Conference.  My feet hurt, my brain thrummed from all the new things I learned, and I was frustrated when I couldn’t remember a new friend’s name (because I met so many wonderful, interesting people).

            The creative energy in the lobby of the Marriott was amazing. When I could find a place to sit, I opened my laptop and let the ambiance fill my soul with new words (and managed to write the first ten pages of my next book). If you ever have a chance to attend an RWA National conference, please do so.
            I’ve never known an industry other than Romance Writers where those who are successful are so interested in helping others be successful. In every workshop I attended, great writers like Susan Elizabeth Philips and Jane Ann Krentz were willing to share insights and advice. (I would happily add a list of all the great speakers I heard, but it would fill this page and many others. Too many to count, but many, many names I recognized from book stores.)
            On the way home, I stopped to visit dear friends and came away with wonderful memories of strong friendship that survives distance.

And then to work:

            While in California, I worked on a new book. When I got home, I had to revise and submit the manuscript I left on my desk. So, filled with momentum from the conference, I got busy. And I mean BUSY. Thank goodness that one is finished. It was a learning experience for me, and I hope I take the lessons with me on the next one. Happily, the story, Hijacked at the Rodeo, found a home at Siren Publishing and will be out in a few months. (I’ll post the date on my website.) it is one of two sequels to Kidnapped at the Gun Show, which is available now from Siren Publishing.

            Now on to new projects.

            I love my new job. I write every day and am constantly surprised by what my characters decide to do.  They lead me down dark corridors and into sunny meadows, and I love each and every one. Some days, I like the dark corners, and other days, I prefer the sunshine. What about you?

Submission

            The English language is a constantly evolving entity, and the meaning of a word or its connotation, can change overnight.  To a writer, submission has a specific meaning. It’s the act of actually sending a piece of work—novel, short story, or screenplay—to an agent or editor with the hope of getting it published.

            But lately, with the phenomena of Fifty Shades, the mass market public has realized the word has a much different definition.  Romance writers have known this for years, but mainstream readers tend to shun romance novels, missing out on the best new fiction available. (Check out Siren Publishing’s website for a taste of what’s new in the genre.) Submission has become a sexual word, a naughty word.
            Perhaps the dominance and submission brouhaha is a reverence for what used to be the norm.
            Since the 1960’s, women have been taking a stronger role in their own lives, working outside the home, juggling work, spouse, kids, and home life. We are exhausted, overworked, stressed and sex is often the last item on the overburdened agenda.
            (Husbands are busy, too. Don’t think I’m putting them down. But women tend to take on the caretaker role to the extreme.)
            Prior to the sexual revolution, women submitted to their husbands.
            Husbands made all the decisions and women took care of the house and kids while their man provided the household income and made the important decisions.  He was in charge, financially, emotionally, and sexually.
            As a wife and mom and wage earner in 2012, going back to the ‘good old days’ of 1955 sounds like a wonderful idea. I’d get to stay home every day, leave all the worries of the world to my dear hubby, and cook a nice dinner every evening. In a sense, I’d do everything I already do at home, but I wouldn’t put in a full day at a job outside the home. Sounds like a perpetual vacation!
            Husbands around the world would groan.  Loss of income. Wife suddenly has time after dinner to sit and talk. Shirts are suddenly starched and pressed, as are boxers.
            The conversations we hear today about submission are focused on sexual submission. However, turning the act of submitting on and off can be complicated. Giving up control of your mind and body to your husband or lover is liberating. And like the women’s liberation movement of the sixties and seventies, it may become addicting.
            Food for thought:
            Do we want to go back to being pampered housewives, cleaning house, cooking dinner, and planting flowers?

            Tell me what you think.

Expectations

            I went to the movies yesterday to see a much-hyped movie, and it wasn’t at all what I expected. From the promos, I planned to see an comedy filled with half-naked men dancing.
            What I got was a dark look at the underside (no pun intended) of the industry. The headline grabbing actor who is prominent in all the movie’s advertisements wasn’t in much of the movie. And although the show was interesting, I’d expected to see more of him.
            The dancing (and tight male chests) were nice to watch, but the alcohol and drug abuse worried me, since I saw a few children in the audience with their moms. Not the type of movie I would have taken a six year old to see.
            Discussing the movie with my hubby the next day was enlightening. He made this interesting query. Why do women see nothing wrong with watching male strippers, yet think of women who earn a living stripping with derision?
            The double standard is there for all to see.  I can’t imagine a movie of this sort playing in major theatres if the genders were reversed. The male leads were promiscuous, but in our culture, men are allowed to sleep around while women are still expected by many to be innocent.
            It’s all about expectations.
            As a reader and writer of romantic fiction, I have my own expectations. When I pick up a book with a house on the front, expect a certain type of story, usually a mystery or a sweet romance. When the cover shows a bare-chested man, I expect a hot, sexy love story.  The same can be said of people on the street or at the neighborhood mall. Who among us hasn’t sat on a bench at the mall and people-watched?
            The way people dress, walk, talk to their companions, interact with their children or spouse, is fascinating. Sometimes it’s even better than a movie.
            Sometimes it’s fuel for a novel.
            Beware. There are writers among you.

Procrastination

             There’s an art to procrastinating. It’s handed down from mother to daughter, or—in my case, from grandmother to granddaughter.  I created this blog because I’m a procrastinator.  For months, I’ve been planning to do this. Friends have encouraged me, but I’ve put it off.  Too many other things crowded my schedule and I used those obligations to push back creating a blog.

            Ironically, I’m now using the blog to procrastinate on other projects. 
            I should be writing the next chapter in my current novel-in-progress. Instead, I’ve spent the better part of a day toggling between screens trying to figure out why the changes I keep making in my template aren’t showing up.  Technology and I are not always on speaking terms.  Don’t get me wrong. I love my laptop.  But new programs often drive me crazy! I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been tempted to get out a piece of notebook paper and a pencil, especially when I needed a chart or table.  Sometimes old school is the best school.
            This is my first post, so if you visit again, please be patient.  The lines may not match up and the subject may be obscure, but I’ll keep plugging away until I get it right.
                                                            Lavender