I was wrong. It fits just right except she can wiggle out of it and turn it into an off-shoulder sweater.
But for some reason she wants a sweater. I have an old one that I bought at PetSmart. Unfortunately it hasn’t lasted that long. I have knitted sweaters for myself and others that have lasted years. The one I bought is falling apart after one winter of use.
Since the world is falling apart right now, I find that knitting is relaxing. I have a dog that sits on my lap as I knit and watch “Closer” or some other TV episode on Amazon or Netflix. I am still unhappy that most of my favorite shows “Constantine” and others have been canceled. NETFLIX for the love of the fans– Please get those shows and make new episodes. I would watch.
If Netflix won’t listen to me, then AMAZON I don’t want to see a middle-aged (almost late aged) transgender. I want to see more Marvel with superheroes and great story lines. Heck, I’d even watch some of Neil Gaiman’s old graphic story lines on TV.
One of the reasons (I have a lot of reasons for writing including that if I don’t write, I’ll act out in my dreams), is that I am tired of the story lines on national TV. The mystery detective shows that I have enjoyed for a long time have been co-opted with message fiction. It seems that global warming, gamergate, or bad corporations mixed with evil returning soldiers has taken over the entertainment. Seriously I am tired of messages… since I was in the Navy from 1988-1994, I am tired of messages that denigrate our returnees, whether combat soldiers or support personnel.
It became fashionable to spit on our returnees after Vietnam. A completely alienated generation is bad for us all.
But back to what I want to see in entertainment. I want to see stories. Something that will help me escape. Something that will make me laugh and cry. Something that will make my life a little more hopeful and a little more worthwhile.
Don’t tell me I am a bad person. I know that I am the hero in my own story. And you are the hero in yours.
One of the reasons I have a problem with dystopia is because many of these stories are– it was bad, it was your fault, and now you’ll die. Huh?
So this is why I like Marvel– as bad as it gets, the hero wins. Not always big… and not always apparent. I can relate. I have small wins every day. I take a pill and my disease is pushed back another day. I walk and my muscles move another day. These small wins have added up from 2003 to the present day. I am still living.
I want to write this way, too.
Last night, I was getting ready to do a little Facebook time when I caught the beginnings of the Paris terror attacks. It was reminiscent of our 9/11 attacks. In this new terror attack, young men without masks went to several venues, killed people, and then suicided. The attack was claimed by ISIS.
I hope this time we will actually support France instead of just giving them lip time. “I stand with Charlie Hepdo” is all nice, but this time action is required. I heard the French President’s call to action, I hope it is heard.
So far we haven’t had a major attack of this nature, designed to crush a nation’s spirit, since 9/11. But then, we may yet. We have been adding a lot of immigrants to our nation who won’t assimilate. Go back. Look at history. What happened to Rome? What happened to other nations who were overrun by masses of people.
France has closed its borders. One of the gunmen was a “supposed” refugee that came to Greece and then France. How many sleeper cells do we have in our own nation?
It may sound like a cold war novel in the making. I do remember the underlying fear in the entire nation that the Soviet Union would “push the button,” the fear that we would have a nuclear war that would kill entire swathes of population in both countries.
When the wall came down and when the Soviet Union broke into pieces that fear dissipated. Our children and grandchildren have never felt this fear.
So I am feeling the beginnings of this fear. My stress relief is knitting. Foxy, my little dog, can tell that it is for her because I am holding it against her and hoping I didn’t knit it too small. I should be writing. I really should. The unrest I feel in the bottoms of my feet is disrupting my thoughts.
Therefore I knit and hope that “Rome” doesn’t burn.
I couldn’t have said it better. Amanda is right. I like to read and my ebook buying is a luxury so I go for more bang for my buck.
Originally posted on madgeniusclub:
Oh that pesky little invention called an e-book is once more confounding the Big 5. You see, that wonderful digital product continues to confuse and confound them. Well, that and the buying public’s taste in books, determination of what the best price point is for an e-book, and related issues continue to cause consternation in publishing circles. And indie writers are sitting back and smiling because it really isn’t that difficult to figure out.
You can blame our own Dr. Monkey for this post. Well, him and my frustration after considering buying the latest book in a series my mother enjoys and telling her it can wait until it is under not $12.99, not $10.99 but under $6.99. Either that or she can borrow it online from the library.
Whether the Big 5 wants to admit it or not, they are confused and, if they are smart, more than a…
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This morning, I put on a pot of navy beans to cook all day. When the beans start to get a little soft, then I’ll put in some bacon and onions. I am not sure what else. I might take a look on the internet for recipes. I will eat a bowl or two tonight, then put the rest in the freezer.
I like to have meals in the freezer for those days when I am too intent on writing to remember to make food or even eat. I used to have a schedule. At four to four thirty p.m., I would start dinner. My late hubby would be home after five p.m. It took about five to ten minutes for him to come home.
I would dish up dinner, we would eat, then he would take some time for himself (amateur radio or computer). Last two years he would be so tired that he would nap. It was that schedule that kept me well. Now I have to make my own schedules. It helps that Foxy needs to be fed at certain hours and she will scratch my leg if I forget.
This morning I was thinking of my writings– one of the hardest things I have ever done is allow myself to shine in my writings. I had spent my formative years hiding my true self. When I showed my true colors, I received some severe punishments. I thought I was a bad person. So in reaction to this upbringing, I spent my mid-years (late twenties to forties) tearing masks off myself and others.
I admit that it hasn’t been fun to find the worms at the heart of people. On the other hand, there are a lot of good people out there who do not show their charity in the normal way. These silent people are the engine that run charitable organizations or even their families. In my opinion, families are important for building a civilized society.
Anyone who is willing to raise children to be civilized and productive adults have my admiration. It was hard enough to raise myself and to support my siblings who still need it.
But to be a writer, I have learned bit by bit that I must open my inner world. I can’t close that door and hide it by using shortened symbolism. For one thing, people who read that type of story can feel that something is wrong, but can’t put their finger on it. Another thing, raw emotion is good and well, but doesn’t make for a good story.
Primal screams– I’ve had my share of pain given voice. The screams are so individual that no one else can decipher the meaning.
So I am learning to open myself and to control the primal scream that runs through much of my stories.
Let my hair down. Smile. Show those pretty teeth because here I come.
Just recently, I have been listening to the brouhaha about Starbucks(r) and their plain colored coffee cups. I want to inject a little sanity right now.
What the heck. Why are you interested in Christmas before Thanksgiving? It would make more sense to yell at Starbucks(r) for the Pumpkin Spice Latte (shudder) that they sold for Halloween than to get excited about Christmas coffee containers.
There I said it… Christmas. It is unnatural to even be thinking of lights and trees with presents all around until after Thanksgiving. Save it for Black Friday.
Heck I have more of a problem with their desire to use Italian for the cup sizes instead of being smart and saying small, medium, and large. So much for Starbucks(r) and the now plain red cups. At least the baristas aren’t forcing a dialog with me about the topic du jour.
When I do get a cuppa, I Veni, Vidi, Vici.
So let’s keep Christmas in December. My new motto.
If you’d like to read some fantasy and a little sci-fi, my books are here.
My most recent release is Hilda’s Inn.
Sword and Sorcery
Hilda isn’t prepared for the damage and chaos caused by a dragon, black mage, and elementals. And a very angry Lord Barton.
Percy is a trader, a rescuer, a time traveler who works under the radar of the authorities. His backer is a so-called criminal organization called the family.
Percy may be a swashbuckler, but he doesn’t want Grandma, the matriarchal head, mad at him.
Outside it is a balmy 60 degrees. The hills around the place received snow last night. I can see it miles away from my window. When I took the dog out for a walk, we ran all the way because we wanted to get back to the relative warmth of the inside. Foxy, my little chihuahua terrier mix, is now wrapped in a blanket.
I am looking at a blank screen and trying to decide what to do with Hilda and Davi in the next book of their adventures. Plus I am not sure if I need to bring Lord Barton in so soon with the story. His representative, although it is not clear at this time, is the Draugr. I am not sure in this world if a Draugr can be killed. Maybe only be put to sleep for a long time. Davi will have to discover this himself.
When I write, the characters become real in my head. I have talked to other writers who say the same. At least they don’t crowd my mind when I am relaxing. Or maybe I am rejoicing too soon. There are times when they wake me from sleep or just at twilight when my body starts to relax, I hear and sometimes see what will happen next.
Does that make me a nutcase? I don’t think so because I can use my five senses in this world. I can touch the table and lean my arms against it. I know when I am here. I do dream though. When I dream it is like I don’t know I am dreaming. And sometimes the dreams leak into my day to day life. Why just yesterday I was trying to remember a fact and only realized later that some character in my dream had told me. That it was a true fact when I looked it up, still didn’t stop the chills. I knew before I was supposed to know.
So I write of this and other things. Of what is real and semi-real.
My motivation for writing is story. I want to write a story that will help someone escape. I want that reader to feel better after they finished my book. And in rare cases I want them to laugh. I want my writings to give the same enjoyment that I get when I read my favorite authors.
So here is the rub. I am a reader first and a writer second.