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Warning: this is a no-edit zone…

Today, I received a very lovely note from a very gentle woman who sent her condolences on the loss of my future grandchild. I appreciated the note, I appreciated the thought and concern behind it. But at the end of that note, she said, “Don’t worry, Vic. She’s young. She’ll have other babies.”

I was grateful that it was email. This gentle woman could not hear me scream. I know that her intentions were good. I know that the dozens of times I’ve heard this in the past two weeks, the intentions have all been good. But if I hear that again, I might just come unglued.

One child never replaces another. Trust me on this. I watched my mother bury two sons. I’ve watched countless friends suffer miscarriages and the deaths of their children. NO other child replaces the one lost. And while the intentions are to comfort, they don’t. They infuriate. It’s as if this child, this life, doesn’t matter. Is insignificant.

I KNOW that isn’t the case. But I’m grieving THIS child. THIS loss. And to me it’s extremely significant.

I guess the whole point of this post is to share with you the pain that can be transferred even in gentleness by a kind woman attempting to be compassionate. And you let you know that “another child” comment to someone grieving this child negates the value of the life of this child.

I guess the whole point is warn you not to do it, to let you know that it doesn’t have the desired, comforting effect.

God, I read this and I feel like a total bitch because I know she meant well. I know it. But my throat is raw from the silent scream, anyway. And my heart shattered again, anyway. And my mind and logic fall to grief, anyway.

And I am so grateful that I was not on the phone. That this sweet soul will not know the impact of her words, though I hope she does somehow gain the understanding shared in this note.

Grief is a tough master. It’s merciless and it taints everything. You can rail against it, demand it ease up on the wrenching of your heart. You can ask, beg, pray for relief. But it still demands its due. I know that’s a good thing because the depth of that kind of pain can’t be touched otherwise, and to know oneself, one must know all of oneself. One must also treasure that outside itself. And there is no more forceful teacher than loss.

As I close now, I trust that tomorrow will be a better day. That light will again find its way into the darkness. I know it will; I’ve grieved and lost many times before. And if not tomorrow, then perhaps the next day. In its time. In its time…

Blessings,

Vicki

Warning: this is an edit-free zone…

For every writer, there comes times in their careers where what had been working well just isn’t working anymore.

The causes are all over the board. You write historicals and readers just aren’t buying them. You lose a publisher. You lose an editor and the new one doesn’t get what you write, doesn’t like it, doesn’t want it. You work with an editor who thinks revisions is another word for him/her conjuring daydreams and having you write them only to change her mind again and again, so you wake up in a spin cycle that is stuck in revisions and never gets anything done. You are facing crises in your personal life and they just shut down your creativity. That can be anything from depression to grief to worry or financial troubles, or even a loss of interest or a spurred interest in something else.

It’s all about change.

And change is all about personal growth.

I have a theory that life teaches you lessons. Some lessons you learn easily–read that, without being knocked to your knees or slammed to the mat. Others hit you harder. Either because they didn’t get your attention the first time or because they got your attention, you resolved the challenge, and then promptly forgot the lesson. So a repeat is in order.

Even if you totally get the lesson and you remember it, you’re put in a similar situation yet again. The reason isn’t to make your life miserable, it’s two-fold. To test your reaction to be sure you’ve really gotten the lesson and so that you are consciously aware that you’ve gotten it.

Lessons are not free. We pay for them with time, effort, energy, emotion, and often money. We pay for them with bits of our lives. Sometimes with large slices of it.

I’ve been asked often, why does this keep happening to me? Well, my theory above is why.

I’ve been asked often, what is the purpose of these challenges? Well, I have a theory on that, too. As my friend, Phyllis Rowan, often says: It takes a lot of heat to temper steel.

People–their will, their determination, their persistence, their devotion, their loyalty, their substance–are all forged in steel. None of those things would be worth much forged in marshmallow, now would they?

Do life lessons ever get easier?

Uh, no. They don’t. Once you learn one, it’s upward and onward to more significant challenges that are more complex. Why? Well, think about it. Someone has to handle the tough stuff and a rookie can’t handle it. Nope, the rough stuff requires steel because only they can endure it and remain upright.

Sometimes we have partial successes and partial failures, and that seems to trouble many people. But the truth is, you can’t be an Olympian without training, right? Well, you can’t be a master challenge solver or lesson learner without training, either. You can’t skip straight from a tricycle to a NASCAR vehicle, either. So why should lessons be any different?

Now one thing that tends to confuse a lot of people when they see a repetitive lesson pattern in their lives is that they automatically believe they’re to stick out the challenge until the bitter end. That’s the only way to avoid a body slam repeat.

But that isn’t so. No, you don’t cut and run at the first sign of trouble. You do your best to remove emotion, you take as objective a look at the situation as is humanly possible, and you assess. Often, we repeat lessons not because we acted but because we acted too long and tried too hard to make something work when it wouldn’t. Because we didn’t recognize the signs or pay attention to the internal nudgings (gut instinct/women’s intuition/call it whatever you wish, you know what I mean) that our efforts were hitting brick walls and it was time to stop pouring constructive energy into something that just wasn’t going to work out constructively.

Now many times, there are interim steps that can and should be taken to determine whether or not you’ve reached that point. And be warned, often fear will pose as an internal nudge and you must really pull that emotion out into the bald light to make sure what it is. If it’s fear, face it. That drains its power over you immediately. If it’s a genuine nudging, listen and hear.

So you’ve made multiple attempts to accommodate and things still aren’t working. Actually, odds are good now that you’ve experienced overflow. Where this specific challenge has tainted other efforts or other interactions as well. That, sadly is a byproduct of being overly accommodating, which particularly women are wont to do.

Regardless, now you’re in a lose/lose situation. And you’ve got to address it to remove yourself from it. I don’t recommend cutting loose with your emotions. You’ll regret it later and live with it a long time. I do recommend keeping your wits and sticking to the facts and then accepting them. If you’ve done this and your gut is telling you that your time is done with this challenge, then walk away. That could well be the mark of success: that you recognize continuing would be more damaging and destroy more than could ever be gained.

Knowing what you don’t want is as important as knowing what you do want.
Knowing when you’ve been issued an invitation to submit elsewhere is as important as knowing when you’ve been issued an invitation to stay put.
Knowing when you’ve fought the good fight, given your all, and it didn’t work so it’s time to go is just as important as knowing when you’ve won that fight and your all clicks and you soar to the pinnacle.

I hope what you see is that it’s all perception. Your perception of what’s right for you and what you hope to achieve and do with your life and your writing. If you’re not working toward that goal, then you’re working against it. Hence, the lessons. To help you recognize what you’re doing so that you make a conscious choice on what you want to do.

I think this is one of God’s most loving graces to us. These lessons. They’re difficult because easy stuff doesn’t get our attention or spur us to act or get remembered. So the lessons are hard, they hurt, they vex, they test us to our limits. But in my life, I’ve found that when I thought I just couldn’t take one more thing going wrong, it always did, and I always dealt with it. Sometimes better than others, but it didn’t do me in. That, I’ve decided is success.

So is knowing when a lesson is occurring to signal you that you’ve reached a turning point. Sometimes those points are in your face and sometimes they’re subtle. Becoming a mother and then a gran was a major turning point. Listening to people’s thoughts without feeling compelled to tell them mine was a more subtle turning point. Yet both signaled significant shifts in me, the human being.

A lesson for today: sift through your life and see what your repeating patterns are. See what keeps happening to you over and over again. What’s the lesson in it? Each occurrence is harder on you–trying harder to get your attention. What is the message to you in that lesson, and have you addressed it? If not, consider it. Beats the socks off addressing it again.

It’s been a very rough three weeks, as I’m sure you’ve intuited from this post. Crises all around that were unexpected, unwelcome, and apparently unavoidable. But the pattern is there, and I’m grateful to have recognized it. Now, I can act with confidence on what I am to do.

And I hope that after reading this post, you will, too.

Blessings,

Vicki

“Trust is earned, one book at a time.” –Vicki Hinze http://vickihinze.com

Note: I edit books and professional correspondence. But I do NOT edit email or this blog. This is chat time for me, so if the grammar is goofed or a word’s spelled wrong, please just breeze on past it. I’d appreciate it–and salute you with my coffee cup.

You are permitted to use the blog post above in its entirety, free of charge, provided you include the following text:
—————————————————————————–
Copyright 2005. Vicki Hinze
Vicki Hinze is a multi-published author, who has a free library of her articles on writing–the craft, business and life–at http://www.vickihinze.com.

Warning: this is an edit-free zone…

The past two weeks, the pressure has been on. Produce the book on time and endure a hurricane (and the kids evacuating, which is just as scary considering road rage during tense times) and get ready for a national conference. It’s been a work full out in warp-speed mode couple of weeks.

For grins, I pulled out my calendar from last year just before the national conference, and the year before, and the year before that. And I discovered something that tickled my funnybone and made me thwap myself. It’s been nuts every year right before a conference.

Lesson learned: one should slow down and review specific warp-speed times on a regular basis. Perhaps then scheduling can be eased so that one isn’t working into the ground to keep to a schedule.

That aside, the hurricane has past and finally all my children are back home AND have power restored. Now, there is no gasoline. The stations that aren’t out have been shut down for price-gouging. So there’s a critical shortage everywhere.

The blessing is both Lloyd H and I work at home, so we might not have noticed. But one son is a distance driver to his job, and so is our son-in-law. A woman in a store said today that the authorities should have someone else come in and sell the gas in the stations that have been closed for gouging. I don’t see that as feasible, since they’re privately owned, but it is a shame that people are in this fix. It appears that 75% of the monthly allotment of fuel was used in the two days before the hurricane evacuating tourists. That’s important, too. And the barge couldn’t get through to come fill the tanks that supply the stations. So now, we have a bit of a fix that we didn’t have after Hurricane Opal (in which we suffered far more extensive damage). FEMA was supposed to have prepositioned fuel trucks–and I suspect they did because near the Interstate one is able to buy 1/4 tank of gas.

Anyway, enough of the fuel challenges. We’ll stay parked until normalcy is restored, and if one of the kids runs out going to/from work, we’ll retrieve them. It’s early in the season, and I’m already sick of storms. Emily isn’t coming here, and for that, I am grateful. Instead, it appears to be heading toward my mother-in-law. Given the choice I’d take it here. She’s 88, and pretty determined not to evacuate. With nubs for nails over the kids, I guess I’ll be gnawing knuckles until Emily has passed and I know she’s okay.

I’m really ticked off at the gougers. Everything from gas to chainsaws to generators and ice. It’s pathetic. But I’ll tell something. The stores doing it will find after this time of crisis that they have far fewer customers. Word gets around, and people remember those who took advantage of them. I just can’t figure out why an established business would do something so stupid. But they have.

The book, I’m thrilled to say, is written. I’ve started the final read today. It’s odd, this book. I’ve written pretty close to forty–maybe a few more or less, I quit tracking them a while back–and I’ve never cried my way through one before. I don’t cry easily or often. But I have wept my heart out with this woman through her entire journey.

At first, I worried that that was a bad thing. But then I backed off and looked at it and realized that there are all kinds of tears in this book. Tears of frustration, of happiness, of shock–tender tears, and ones of discovery and ones claiming victory and defeat and ones of pure joy. A lot of different emotions, a lot of different tears. And I walked away from the complete manuscript thinking, this is a good thing. To be my age with my experiences and to weep all those different kinds of tears because this woman and her experiences and journey–all the highs and lows and ups and downs–touched my heart.

I believe that in every book is an opportunity to discover something about yourself. More than anything, in this book I discovered my heart can still be touched by many things. With so much of the world jaded and cynical, I find that very reassuring. Now, as I’m doing the final read on it, I’m praying that when other readers read this book, their hearts too are touched.

If that should happen, I will be one very happy writer.

Blessings,

Vicki

Vicki Hinze

c,2005

www.vickihinze.com

Warning: this is an edit-free zone:

July is always a busy month, but this July is grueling. I’m in a major push to get a solid, clean draft of HER PERFECT LIFE written. And because of the subject matter, this novel is ripping me up emotionally in a way no book I’ve written before has done.

I wonder if that will come through in the book. If readers will feel all I feel in writing it. I know from experience that a writer must feel to infuse a book, but I wonder if the level of that infusion runs consistent with the level the writer feels. That I don’t know–yet. But I plan to seek feedback from readers so that I do once HER PERFECT LIFE has been published next April and readers have had time to read it and respond.

In the past few days, I’ve been focusing intently on the book and on two other projects, both of which are conference related. RT Daytona. I’m putting together the action/adventure panels of speakers. I’ve been fortunate with this; the people asked are strong writers in the genre and they’ve agreed to do it.

The second aspect of this same conference is a tea to honor the military. It is with a humble heart that I participate in that one with Catherine Mann.

The second conference uppermost in mind is the RWA Reno conference. I’m doing a workshop there on writing the action/adventure heroine on Friday morning with Associate Senior Editor for Bombshell novels, Natashya Wilson. Beginning next week, I’ll be focusing intently on pulling together handouts that bring in the opinions of a lot of leading writers in this subgenre. I really want to try to give those who attend a strong cross-section of the types of writing that have successfully fit in established lines with publishers.

As these things are going on, so is Mother Nature. She’s cranking up, and we felt the first sting yesterday with Tropical Storm Cindy. Most of the day was spent under tornado watches–and what wasn’t, was largely spent under warnings. Today we have sun. But we are also dead-center in the path of Hurricane Dennis. Heaven knows I don’t wish him on anyone else, but a miracle to have it dissipate would sure be lovely. So many in our area still haven’t recovered from Hurricane Ivan last year. If this one strikes here, too, many will be disheartened. So if you’re reading this, and wouldn’t mind, please add your good thoughts for them.

I awakened to the news of London being bombed. It is positively cowardice to strike innocent civilians like this, and absolute idiocy to think that these type attacks serve any constructive purpose.

Many oppose this war on terror. But that doesn’t make it less real or less apt to continue. If you doubt it, ask Spain. They were told if they withdrew from fighting the war, they would be spared. They withdrew and were bombed. Hundreds of thousands in England protested the war, and yet they’ve been bombed, too. That these people do this senseless acts in the name of God is just unforgivable. We are weeping. He must be weeping. How could He not be weeping?

Blessings,

Vicki
c2005, Vicki Hinze

Vicki Hinze

www.vickihinze.com
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Warning: this is a no-edit zone…

Back to work on Her Perfect Life today, and I’m in a bit better mood than I was yesterday. Holidays bring out the worst in some people, and while I’m usually not one of them, I’m finding I’m super-sensitive on political and military issues at the moment. I know it’s this book. It brings everything into such stark relief and while there are still shades of gray, beyond them is necessity and truth. And that’s what’s on my mind this morning.

When we write, we have a license to lie. We’re supposed to lie–to create a fictional world and fill it with fictional people that are rich in texture and substance–so real that even we forget that they exist only on the pages of our stories.

And yet for a reader to connect with a character and care what happens to them, the writer must create a character who matters to the reader. Today, I think that’s a lot more difficult than it was five years ago or fifty years ago. The rules society lived by were more clear cut then. This conduct was acceptable. That conduct was not. This most people find acceptable. That most people oppose.

But as I ponder different topics, and look around for prevailing wisdoms, I’m just not seeing as many this or thats as I used to see. More people are taking refuge in the gray areas, and if you’re standing outside them, then you’re deemed an idealist, a zealot, a person who can’t possibly be that altruistic. You’re deemed insincere.

In large part, this major shift has come from a couple generations taking a “me” attitude rather than a “we” attitude. I’ve seen more people in the last few years whose first question is “What’s in it for me?” Not too long ago, that first question would have been, “What’s in it for us?” The difference might seem small, but its impact is huge. Us might be a classroom of kids, a community, a church group, a band. It might be any group or even mankind.

There was a shift in this country to “me” and “my rights.” It has not served us well. We’ve been so focused on me and mine that we’ve forgotten we’re part of a larger group. Our bigger picture involves everyone.

You know, in this book, I’m looking at this woman and all that she’s sacrificed, and I’m seeing all the changes around her to everything important to her. And I find myself wondering how she, who has sacrificed so much, can return and still sacrifice more. Willingly. She’s not a martyr. She’s not sadistic or self-effacing. And as I look into her heart, I see why. She believes in the greater good. That by doing what she believes is right and good and true, she will leave the world better than she found it.

Some will say that’s idealism at its best or worst. But I think it’s actually just normal to human beings. When you take away the marketing brainwashing and social conditioning, you have truth at its purest form. I know this is true. I have proof.

Last night, before the fireworks, I watched a two-year-old girl, a five-year-old boy, and a one-year-old girl play. The older two were gentle and protective of the one-year-old. They shared toys, they laughed and played. There was no greed. There was no jockeying for power or control. There was no manipulation.

The kids were caring and compassionate, adjusting to play “older” or “younger,” and protected the weaker, smaller, preventing them from venturing out a door, from putting a small toy in her mouth.

People are naturally joyful, I thought. They must learn all the negative traits. And then spend a lifetime trying to unlearn them and find a balance that allows them to meet their eyes in the mirror and feel content and not shame.

So as I start my writing day–time to hit Chapter 15–I’m thinking about the kids. And I’m convinced that adults need to take lessons from kids on humanity.

Blessings,

Vicki
c2005, Vicki Hinze

www.vickihinze.com
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WARNING: this is an edit-free zone!

Happy Independence Day!

My mind is on freedom today–even more so than usual. The book I’m focusing on currently, HER PERFECT LIFE, is about a POW who is rescued after six years and returns home to many, many changes.

It’s a hard book to write. I don’t cry easily, but I’ve sniffled and sobbed through the first 150 pages of this book because her plight is so easy to envision, and as I look around and see the news, I’m seeing it all through her eyes. The pain is remarkable.

Freedom isn’t free. Soldiers pay it with their lives and their blood. And then they’re rewarded by hearing idiotic and destructive comments like those from Dick Durbin and others who assert their rights to freedom of speech but haven’t made the first sacrifice to preserve it.

My mind today is on the two-party political system and how it’s hampered progress over the last twenty years. Politicians who are supposed to be serving the country are too busy getting reelected and fighting for their party to fight for America, much less Americans.

Supreme Court Justice Sandra O’Connor retired. And that same afternoon on the news, discussion wasn’t on who would be the best in the land to replace her, it was on the bloodbath that was coming regardless of whom the President recommended for the job. I saw it through my eyes and was disappointed. Business as usual in Washington. I’m sick of it. I saw that report through my POW’s eyes and was disgusted to the point of weeping and to asking when we Americans will stand up and say we won’t tolerate this anymore.

Americans have outgrown the two-party system and should fight to abolish it. It no longer best serves us. It hinders our progress. Even if those elected took an oath to do what was in the best interests of their country and not their party, they wouldn’t do it. History proves it. So Americans need to eliminate the temptation that is obviously too strong for mere men to resist.

The focus on reelections proves there should be term limits. When the Constitution was drafted, men served their country to do their duty, and then they went home. It never occurred to our forefathers that anyone would make a career of politics. There was wisdom in serving and going home, and there is little good in career politicians. When serving, the focus should be on service, not on reelections and power plays/players. Experience isn’t a challenge; it’s everywhere. The politicians aren’t going to change this. Americans should.

Focus has dwindled from 9/11 and passion has cooled. With it so has support for the war on terror. For or against the war, an understanding has to be accepted that includes recognition of how many attacks on the U.S. have been stopped since 9/11 due to Homeland Security and its efforts. Not hypothetical attacks, but real ones that were near misses. Whether we fight the war here or there in Iraq, we’re going to have to fight it. That’s a truth that we can’t shake. But the real bottom line for me is that you don’t put troops under fire and then yank support from them. So be for or against the war, but support the men and women fighting it. They’d rather be at home bitching about it, too, but they’re not. They breathe and they bleed and they do it for me and you.

A lot is on my mind today. For the most part, it’s anger. People are filled with apathy, so busy living their own lives that they just can’t spare a thought for those fighting for something bigger. They get bent over a tailgater, but not over a senator comparing soldiers to mass murderers. Do you know, out of millions of Americans a mere 140,000 objected to Durbin enough to email his sorry ass? Maybe to knock people out of their lethargy we need a shock.

What if our soldiers said, “No, uh-uh. I’m not sacrificing another thing. Not one more. Let them fight for themselves.” There’d be war on the streets in our towns. I wonder if those who object to the right to bear arms will fight? What will happen to them if they don’t? They say no man in a foxhole doesn’t know God. I wonder if at war on their streets, those who object to seeing the Commandments and the country’s Judeo-Christian heritage display will, too?

I guess I’m doing a lot of thinking about these things because of the book, but I believe I’d be thinking a good bit about them anyway. I was raised with a fundamental respect for the country. One that recognized that real men and women and families paid with real sacrifices for every single privilege Americans enjoy. Freedom isn’t free.

And the next time you bitch because you’re suffering some minor infraction or some trivial inconvenience, pause and think a minute about what others have suffered. Start with our soldiers. Then travel back a bit through time to our founding fathers. I’m not sure who the author of what follows was, but full credit is hereby acknowledged and given. In case you’ve forgotten what they sacrificed, here’s a reminder:

What happened to the 56 men who signed the Declaration of Independence?

–Author Unknown

Five signers were captured by the British as traitors, and tortured before they died.

Twelve had their homes ransacked and burned. Two lost their sons serving in the Revolutionary Army; another had two sons captured.

Nine of the 56 fought and died from wounds or hardships of the Revolutionary War.

They signed and they pledged their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor.

What kind of men were they?

Twenty-four were lawyers and jurists.

Eleven were merchants, nine were farmers and large plantation owners; men of means, well educated, but they signed the Declaration of Independence knowing full well that the penalty would be death if they were captured.

Carter Braxton of Virginia, a wealthy planter and trader, saw his ships swept from the seas by the British Navy. He sold his home and properties to pay his debts, and died in rags.

Thomas McKeam was so hounded by the British that he was forced to move his family almost constantly. He served in the Congress without pay, and his family was kept in hiding. His possessions were taken from him, and poverty was his reward.

Vandals or soldiers looted the properties of Dillery, Hall, Clymer, Walton, Gwinnett, Heyward, Ruttledge, and Middleton.

At the battle of Yorktown, Thomas Nelson, Jr., noted that the British General Cornwallis had taken over the Nelson home for his headquarters. He quietly urged General George Washington to open fire. The home was destroyed, and Nelson died bankrupt.

Francis Lewis had his home and properties destroyed. The enemy jailed his wife, and she died within a few months.

John Hart was driven from his wife’s bedside as she was dying. Their 13 children fled for their lives. His fields and his gristmill were laid to waste. For more than a year he lived in forests and caves, returning home to find his wife dead and his children vanished.

Some of us take these liberties so much for granted, but we shouldn’t. So, take a few minutes while enjoying your 4th of July holiday and silently thank these patriots. It’s not much to ask for the price they paid.

Remember: freedom is never free! I hope you will show your support by sending this to as many people as you can, please. It’s time we get the word out that patriotism is NOT a sin, and the Fourth of July has more to it than beer, picnics, and baseball games.”

I hope that today, you will think. You will not take anything for granted. You will be grateful, and you will remember….

Blessings,

Vicki

c2005, Vicki Hinze

www.vickihinze.com

Warning: This is an edit-free zone.

Well, I just spent an hour writing a letter blasting Dick Durbin for making idiotic comments that compared our US Troops at Gitmo to Hitler, Stalin and Pol Pot.

It seems some prisoners down at Gitmo had to listen to loud rap music, and some had their air-conditioners turned down so their rooms were hot. And that triggered Durbin making this comparison.

Now I doubt the man is ignorant of history. He is after all in politics. So he surely knows better than to compare turning down air-conditioners and rap music to the MURDER of 14 MILLION people. There’s a hell of a difference in reduced air-conditioning and gas chambers and ovens. But he did it anyway.

Oh, I’m sure his comments were intended as one of those “hit the other political party–above the belt, below the belt, wherever, just hit them”–stupid ass games these party freaks in D.C. play. Durbin probably never considered that he was:

1. Insulting the troops. Comparing them to horrific killers? Fine action for a US Senator, eh? Lemme see how this works out. Put the troops in harm’s way, then insult and demoralize them and increase the jeopardy you’ve put them in.

No, that doesn’t work for me. I think the troops are on the short end and deserve better.

Oh but wait. Called on it, he says, “Oh gee, you’ve got it all wrong. I support the troops.”

That doesn’t work for me, either. Best keep this kind of support. It gets our soldiers killed. One would think a senator would know that…

2. Aiding the enemy. “U.S. senator stands by Nazi remark.” That was the headline on Al Jazeera’s web page. Now this network is notorious for spreading anti-American anything throughout the Arab world. Lemme take a look at this. Well, the news ain’t good. The man’s just undermined America/Americans and upped recruitment–for the other side. Thanks for the inflamation, Mr. Durbin. I wonder if he’s noticed that he’s violated the idealogy and concepts he took an oath to preserve? I wonder if he’s noticed that the only people following his lead are the enemy? I wonder if he’s noticed that the enemy wants Americans–and Iraqis–dead?

You know, I wrote a letter blistering this man’s ears. But anyone who can refuse 130,000 invitations to apologize and stand behind idiotic remarks isn’t apt to learn a damn thing. He figures he’ll get smacked around in the press a little, maybe slapped on the wrist by his political party leader, and bitched out by a few constituents, and then it’ll be over. But God do I hope he’s wrong.

While I really do believe that this was a slam your opposing party comment that he’d not weighed and considered, it doesn’t absolve him from the responsibility of its consequences. He’d made it and then pride made him stand behind it. He’s not the first man to screw up. Everyone does. He’s not the first man pride’s made stupid, either.

Bottom line, whether jockeying for political position or historical ignorance, neither serves the Senate well or the Americans it serves. Time to issue Mr. Durbin another type invitation. One to seek employment elsewhere.

Lastly, he should get on his knees and thank God I’m not running the ethics committee. Because if I were, I’d do my damnedest to bring him up on charges of treason. What he’s done–and even after seeing consequences has refused to apologize for doing–has and will cost good men and women their lives. To do that to score a point in a stupid ass tit-for-tat game between political parties is just despicable. He’s not just a party member; he’s supposed to be an American. A fact too often forgotten in that destructive political party game.

Blessings,

Vicki, extremely ticked and on a tear…

Vicki Hinze

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Trust is earned, one book at a time.”

–Vicki Hinze http://vickihinze.com

Note: I edit books and professional correspondence. But I do NOT edit email or this blog. This is chat time for me, so if the grammar is goofed or a word’s spelled wrong, please just breeze on past it. I’d appreciate it–and salute you with my coffee cup.

You are permitted to use the blog post above in its entirety, free of charge, provided you include the following text:

—————————————————————————–

Copyright 2005. Vicki Hinze

Vicki Hinze is a multi-published author, who has a free library of her articles on writing–the craft, business and life–at http://www.vickihinze.com.

WARNING! This is an edit-free zone.

When you write full-time, you spend a lot of time alone. That’s especially difficult when things are going really well or really badly. I’ve been at this since 1987, and truthfully, I can’t tell you which is worse. When there’s news to share, you want someone who “gets it” to share that news with, and that means another writer is required. Because as much as family and friends can fill that square, they can’t define the square they’re filling like another writer.

Today was a good writing day. I found out that Body Double was Number 8 on the Walden’s Bestseller series list. Still riding that high, I learned that True Confessions magazine had named Double Vision as one of the books they’re promoting this month in a contest (where they are giving away free books). hey’re celebrating the military and their families.

I’ve been trying to do the same thing in my books since 1995 when Shades of Gray was published, so this was a very big deal to me and an honor I don’t take lightly. When I went to their website and read the editor’s note, I felt even more privileged. She, too, wants to celebrate the military and their families and she shared a personal story that was very touching.

On a typical day, I receive about 400 emails. Some days fewer, some days more. Many are questions from other writers on writing, and I’m happy to answer them as best I can. It does, however, consume a great deal of time. I give it, trusting that the things I must do will get done. I’m not sure how it happens, but they do.

Still, this was an extremely heavy email day, with many congrats coming in as well as questions that needed answering and normal business correspondence. I thought to myself that I wouldn’t make my writing quota today. Then I cut myself a little slack because honors and joys should be celebrated, and if doing so requires one to work a little later the next day, or to start a little earlier, then that’s what a writer has to do.

So all day, I dribbled a little writing in here and there and answered the questions and gave the advice and sought answers and celebrated this good news and then celebrated the second batch of good news and reconciled myself to starting work at 2 a.m. tomorrow. But the oddest thing happened. I checked to see how much I’d written today in these snatches, and I was totally stunned. Thirty pages. Thirty!

Isn’t it amazing how much actually gets done when you’re dribbling it in as you go through your day?

So today is a very good writing day. I’ve written, been honored, realized a dream, helped others where I could and celebrated.

In a writing life, days just don’t get much better than this.

The moral of this post?

Even when you don’t think you’re accomplishing all you need to, and you’re worried about diverting time to help someone else, have a little faith and take that outstretched hand. Things have a way of working out–and adding up.

Here’s wishing you many good days in your writing world.

Blessings,

Vicki

Vicki Hinze

See the mini-movie promo for Double Vision

Go to: www.vickihinze.com

Click on “News”

Click on “see the mini…”

Trust is earned, one book at a time.”

–Vicki Hinze http://vickihinze.com

Note: I edit books and professional correspondence. But I do NOT edit email or this blog. This is chat time for me, so if the grammar is goofed or a word’s spelled wrong, please just breeze on past it. I’d appreciate it–and salute you with my coffee cup.

You are permitted to use the blog post above in its entirety, free of charge, provided you include the following text:

—————————————————————————–

Copyright 2005. Vicki Hinze

Vicki Hinze is a multi-published author, who has a free library of her articles on writing–the craft, business and life–at http://www.vickihinze.com.

Warning: this is an edit-free zone.

You know, I remember summers being a time of lazy days, lots of sunshine and, okay, more than a few mosquito bites. What I don’t remember is being tied to my desk so much it takes a tropical storm to break away and see the sun–or in this case, the rain and wind whipping around the trees.

It’s easy to get too busy in this job. I think that’s probably true for doing anything you love. You’re excited about work and you drown in it, not realizing that you’re doing it half the time.

Yesterday, my daughter, granddaughter and husband went to the farm and picked blackberries. I had to stay at home to go over some copyedits that are due back in New York pronto. When they returned, my grand was so excited. Her face was flushed and she smelled of kid sweat. But her eyes sparkled at this grand adventure of tromping between the rows and tossing blackberries into a bucket. I looked at my daughter and husband, and their eyes were sparkling, too. And it hit me how little of these type things I’ve had time for in the last few months.

Okay, I make time when the baby asks me to go to the mall and ride the carousel, or to go shopping, or to go to lunch. If she asks, I go. I work late, early, whatever it takes, but I go.

Still, I’ve not been to the park to dangle my feet in the water since Mother’s Day. Or been to the beach to watch the waves–one of my favorite things to do for perspective. Looking out on that horizon, well, no problem seems too significant or difficult to solve.

I reviewed my list and so far this summer, I’ve written two books, revised one, copyedited another, designed a website, bookmarks, put together two promotional plans, done three workshops, two lectures and a few other little goodies. I’ve one conference, two workshops, one lecture, one set of revisions–maybe two–and one book to write before September 1st.

I pulled out the calendar and scheduled everything I know to expect. I know things will come up that need to be done, but I have two days circled in red. My days. To go to the water and play in the waves. You can bet a lot of other things will give before either of those days get marked off the schedule.

It’s easy to forget many things, when you go project to project, ticking off items on your to-do list. You tend not to spend a lot of time thinking beyond the next high-priority item. But every now and then, a body just has to stop and take stock. Smell the roses, and their leaves and stems.

I mentioned this to my husband, Lloyd H. He thought a second, then said, “Yeah, I don’t remember ever seeing anything about working on a headstone.”

I thought about that. A lot longer than a second.

And since I’m on my way to mail in those high-priority copyedits and a few books to contest winners anyway, and since the water is a mere block away, I believe I’ll just stop and sit on the dock for a while.

Summer, like grandchildren, can’t wait…

Blessings,

Vicki

Trust is earned, one book at a time.”

–Vicki Hinze http://vickihinze.com

Note: I edit books and professional correspondence. But I do NOT edit email or this blog. This is chat time for me, so if the grammar is goofed or a word’s spelled wrong, please just breeze on past it. I’d appreciate it–and salute you with my coffee cup.

You are permitted to use the blog post above in its entirety, free of charge, provided you include the following text:

—————————————————————————–

Copyright 2005. Vicki Hinze

Vicki Hinze is a multi-published author, who has a free library of her articles on writing–the craft, business and life–at http://www.vickihinze.com.

Warning: This is an edit-free zone.

For those interested, I’ll be chatting this week at eharlequin.com. The topic is the national conference, but you know me, I’ll answer questions on whatever you ask. Here’s a direct link to the thread:

http://community.eharlequin.com/WebX?50@@.4a82ca20/0

Tonight, I’ll be in the Bombshelter for the monthly bombshellauthors.com chat. 9 P.M. Eastern. Here, the focus is on Bombshell novels, one of my favorite topics.

For those following the RWA graphic content discussion, if you haven’t heard: RWA has suspended policy at this time. They’ve designated that an ad hoc committee will review and study the issue and report back to the Board on 9/1. In the interim, they suggest caution to stay within postal regulations and the office will make determinations on the suitability of suggested materials for ads in the RWR, etc. There’s a letter on the RWA website, which if any of this pertains or is of interest, you might review. www.rwanational.org.

My daughter and oldest granddaughter (2) moved closer. Gran has been in heaven, with lots of play time and I always function better when getting my prorata share of hugs and sloppy kisses. I love it, and wouldn’t change this for anything. I swore before she was born that if she asked for my time, she would have it. No exceptions.

Well, my darling has learned to phone her Gran. “Gran, let’s go shopping. Gran, have lunch with me? Gran, I want to ride the carousel. Dexter and Daisy and Jack Rabbit.”

With these invitations this past week, how could I refuse? Well, I didn’t, and I won’t. These are the days of building memories. True, she likely won’t remember the events, but I will, and they will work to forge the bond between us that will sustain anything. It worked with my mother and me, me and my daughter, and it will with my granddaugter(s).

But I do write for a living, and so in real terms it means that I work later and more nights and that my typical heavy schedule must be condensed even more. No problem; this priority is worth whatever it takes. So Gran gears up for the marathon, and since Thursday, that’s exactly what she’s done–marathon. And yesterday afternoon, she finished the current book. Today she does copyedits, and tomorrow she starts the next book–unless she gets a phone call from a wee girl. In that case, she’ll start the next book tomorrow night–and grateful she is for that blessing!

There is a point to this rambling. It’s easy to be inundated in this business. If you want a life as well, then you have to take it. You can’t wait for the time to come when you’re less busy. You don’t get less busy. You get to the point where you must pick and choose where to focus your time. It’s easy to become consumed with work because it’s something you love so much. And if you couple the business end requirements with the writing requirements, then you’re seeking time for anything else. Make time for life, too.

Watch a movie, go to the beach. Take a walk in the park. Do something just for the fun of it. You return refreshed. In my case, just looking at my granddaughter makes me happy from the bone out. Spending time with her is sheer joy. Do whatever it is that makes you happy from the bone out and fills you with joy. Do it often. It will enrich your life, and your writing.

Blessings,

Vicki