Dear Readers,
Today, and once again DH and his friend Bill hit the woods in search of that almighty buck with all those points they're itching to shoot.
The thing is, they leave the house about 5 a.m. and I'm expecting them to be gone all day, after all, their hunting was torn up a day for Thanksgiving. But by golly, they were back home by eleven-thirty. Seems it was too windy to hunt. I guess when the wind's blowing, the deer don't travel, either that, or the mighty hunters bullets get blown off-target!
So, their theory was to let the wind settle and they'd go back to the woods about two-thirty. Again, they left anf again, they're back home hours before dark. Really, I think they just like to drive up and down the highway in orange vests and hats and pretend to hunt. It's a man thing...
Anyway, dh comes in and he's sooo upset. They didn't see a single deer.I'm thinking yeah, I know why, because the deer are too smart to commit vehicular suicide. THEY'RE IN THE WOODS!!!
Now I tell ya, dh is very upset, but not nearly as upset as Bill, who has started threatening to shoot the peanut butter off the trees to punish the deer for not jumping in front of a bullet for him...Of course, he claimed it's just so he can say he got to shoot his gun, but I know peanut butter abuse when I see it....Poor deer, poor trees, poor peanut butter!
Happy Hunting,
Tabs
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
RETURN OF THE BUMBLING DEER HUNTERS!!
Dear Readers,
OMG!!! After sharing yesterday's deer hunting tales, I couldn't pass up yet another hysterical story to share with you today.
Remember Dear Hubby's hunting buddie? For the sake of privacy, we'll just call him Bill. Well I failed to mention Bill is also our neighbor who lives directly behind us in our little neighborhood. For the last three years, since we bought here and the neighbor did the same, well, these two hunters bonded over the backyard fence.
They've shared family history, holiday dinners, health troubles and personal problems daily for these three years. So now having some understanding of this great friendship, you comprehend just how close they are. It isn't a bit unusual for one of them to hop in their truck, dash to our local Wal-Mart and buy some kind of fishing or hunting gift for the other just for the hell of it.
So, a day or two before deer season opened, Bill brought home the "Bacon." He bought a contraption of sorts that only a male could understand or yearn for, and he generously bought two, so DH would have one.
It's camouflaged,a bit like a very tiny tent, totally enclosed except for a little opening big enough to poke one's head out and shoot at the poor unsuspecting deer.
Inside, it's just big enough for a chair. It rather reminded me of a small outhouse. Since in my opinion these two particular deer hunters are 'full of it' they need these little houses.
After yesterday's fiasco with the water, I think this tale tops it. Once they reached their happy hunting grounds,DH and Bill parted way and set their "portable potties" in the woods some distance apart.
However, before they enshrined themselves inside said out house', they each rubbed doe urine on their clothes. (Yes, folks, one can actually purchase this liquid gold off the hunting department shelves of you-know-where.
Anyhoo, here they are, all set up in their own little hunting place, surrounded by trees painted with peanut butter, and Bill is having a few quiet moments when he hears a noise outside his little home.
Bill pokes his head out the "window" and OMG!! There it is! The biggest buck he's ever seen, the one he's been waiting on for three days, and they're looking eyeball-to-eyeball!!
Now I'm certain both these male animals are very excited, but for two entirely different reasons. You just know with Bill wearing the doe's inviting, "Come and get me" fragrance all over his clothes that the big buck is anticipating a different kind of creature.
Bill is beside himself. Here's his chance to prove his manly prowess as the great white hunter. "The buck! The buck!" Sounds so much more riveting than,"The plane! The plane!"
Bill grabs his gun, sticks it out the "window" and pulls the trigger.
Nothing.Total silence.
The buck stares through the hole at him, (probably snickering) no doubt wondering where his sweet smelling doe ran off to.
Now I ask you, why would a mighty hunter go to all that trouble to set himself up in nice, warm, comfortable surroundings and fail to load his rifle?
Yes, folks, this a true tale of the buck that got away and lives to hunt for his "lady love" another day.
And no, so far the peanut butter hasn't done the trick, but now we know the doe urine works just fine. All you gotta do is remember to load your gun!!
Happy Hunting,
Tabs
OMG!!! After sharing yesterday's deer hunting tales, I couldn't pass up yet another hysterical story to share with you today.
Remember Dear Hubby's hunting buddie? For the sake of privacy, we'll just call him Bill. Well I failed to mention Bill is also our neighbor who lives directly behind us in our little neighborhood. For the last three years, since we bought here and the neighbor did the same, well, these two hunters bonded over the backyard fence.
They've shared family history, holiday dinners, health troubles and personal problems daily for these three years. So now having some understanding of this great friendship, you comprehend just how close they are. It isn't a bit unusual for one of them to hop in their truck, dash to our local Wal-Mart and buy some kind of fishing or hunting gift for the other just for the hell of it.
So, a day or two before deer season opened, Bill brought home the "Bacon." He bought a contraption of sorts that only a male could understand or yearn for, and he generously bought two, so DH would have one.
It's camouflaged,a bit like a very tiny tent, totally enclosed except for a little opening big enough to poke one's head out and shoot at the poor unsuspecting deer.
Inside, it's just big enough for a chair. It rather reminded me of a small outhouse. Since in my opinion these two particular deer hunters are 'full of it' they need these little houses.
After yesterday's fiasco with the water, I think this tale tops it. Once they reached their happy hunting grounds,DH and Bill parted way and set their "portable potties" in the woods some distance apart.
However, before they enshrined themselves inside said out house', they each rubbed doe urine on their clothes. (Yes, folks, one can actually purchase this liquid gold off the hunting department shelves of you-know-where.
Anyhoo, here they are, all set up in their own little hunting place, surrounded by trees painted with peanut butter, and Bill is having a few quiet moments when he hears a noise outside his little home.
Bill pokes his head out the "window" and OMG!! There it is! The biggest buck he's ever seen, the one he's been waiting on for three days, and they're looking eyeball-to-eyeball!!
Now I'm certain both these male animals are very excited, but for two entirely different reasons. You just know with Bill wearing the doe's inviting, "Come and get me" fragrance all over his clothes that the big buck is anticipating a different kind of creature.
Bill is beside himself. Here's his chance to prove his manly prowess as the great white hunter. "The buck! The buck!" Sounds so much more riveting than,"The plane! The plane!"
Bill grabs his gun, sticks it out the "window" and pulls the trigger.
Nothing.Total silence.
The buck stares through the hole at him, (probably snickering) no doubt wondering where his sweet smelling doe ran off to.
Now I ask you, why would a mighty hunter go to all that trouble to set himself up in nice, warm, comfortable surroundings and fail to load his rifle?
Yes, folks, this a true tale of the buck that got away and lives to hunt for his "lady love" another day.
And no, so far the peanut butter hasn't done the trick, but now we know the doe urine works just fine. All you gotta do is remember to load your gun!!
Happy Hunting,
Tabs
Monday, November 23, 2009
DEER HUNTERS...YOU GOTTA LOVE 'EM?
Good Morning Readers,
Today's topic is about deer hunters. I have nothing good or bad to say about deer hunters, other than my own personal experiences with Dear Hubby for the last thirty years or so. Personally, I love deer meat, when I can get it, because although DH loves to hunt, he rarely brings in the kill.
Every year, it's the same old sorry thing. Along about the first of Sept., he gets "itchy." Drives me insane, because, one, he only hunts during rifle season and it doesn't start where I live until the first Sat. of the week of Thanksgiving.
All the same, he starts talking about getting his hunting license, his tag, his gun ready, his bullet, because hey, he'll only need one for the kill. His orange hunting vest he'll have to find because God knows he can't remember where he put it from the year before. (Pssst. Damn good thing I hung it up in the closet just like I've done for the last...well by now, you know how many years.
Included in this long list, is getting his other supplies and food gathered. (He's like a bear preparing for winter hibernation and no matter how many times I say, "Hon, we'll take care of that closer to time.") Do ya think he listens? No way!
Along with gathering these yearly supplies, he's changing the oil in and gasing up the 4-wheeler, cause Lord knows these little jewels are sooo quiet, one can sneak right up on the poor unsuspecting deer.
I won't even begin to tell you the number of times he loads up said 4-wheeler and hauls his buns to the woods just so he can look for "Deer Sign." Because you know, where that deer is today, it'll certainly be there tomorrow, same time, same place.
He puts out corn. (Numerous sacks of corn)Waste of time and money. He did this one year and some other hunter took his spot he'd been preparing for weeks. Cracked me up when he came home griping about it.
The latest thing he's putting out to attract that big buck? Peanut butter! On the trees. OMG!!! I can't imagine how many trees he's painted with it. He came home last night from the deer woods telling me how he and his hunting buddie bought four jars of peanut butter and smeared it on the trees.
Again, I'm cracking up and told him all he'd attract with that was ants. But hey, that's okay cause he said the deer would just eat the ants too...
Is it just me or do the males of our species go just a little bit insane every year about this time? I see hundreds of campers, men in orange and all they're doing is driving up and down the highway a dozen damn times and I'm thinking, Aren't the deer in the woods?
I can think of better places I'd rather be at four a.m. than out in the cold, stealing through the woods, possibly getting mistaken for a deer and shot for my trouble.
This morning, however, topped it off for me...DH was getting ready to leave and in his hurry to dash out the front door, poured a glass of icewater on my keyboard.
Now there's nothing that sparks my temper any quicker than for anyone to stumble around in the dark at said four a.m. when I'm trying to sleep, and dumps water on my computer board.
Knowing how anal I am about my precious computer when I ask him what he's doing (Because I keep hearing this odd sound of him cleaning) he tells me he knocked over some quarters I have stacked on my desk. But this odd cleaning sound goes on and on and it's not like I have a big stack of quarters there.
Suspicion flares."What are you doing?" I ask.
"Oh, I spilled a little bit of water on your computer."
Let me tell you, my eyes popped open and out of bed I rolled because I know his little bit and my little bit are two entirely different numbers. It turns out to be the flippin' glass full of water. Big glass.
By now, I'm wide-awake. He's apologetic. I'm ticked. I have no clue what damage it will do to my computer, but right at the moment, my "V" keeps sticking and some of the keys seem to be getting harder to press down...
However, basically I'm a pacifist. I won't mistake him for a deer in my bedroom and plug DH with his single bullet.I'm nice. I tell him to go on hunting, but underneath it all, he KNOWS there won't be any supper cooked and waiting on him when he returns home later today.
Gee, I hope his hunting buddie doesn't fall asleep in the deer woods today the way he did yesterday and miss that big buck snacking on peanut butter!
Happy Hunting,
Tabs
Today's topic is about deer hunters. I have nothing good or bad to say about deer hunters, other than my own personal experiences with Dear Hubby for the last thirty years or so. Personally, I love deer meat, when I can get it, because although DH loves to hunt, he rarely brings in the kill.
Every year, it's the same old sorry thing. Along about the first of Sept., he gets "itchy." Drives me insane, because, one, he only hunts during rifle season and it doesn't start where I live until the first Sat. of the week of Thanksgiving.
All the same, he starts talking about getting his hunting license, his tag, his gun ready, his bullet, because hey, he'll only need one for the kill. His orange hunting vest he'll have to find because God knows he can't remember where he put it from the year before. (Pssst. Damn good thing I hung it up in the closet just like I've done for the last...well by now, you know how many years.
Included in this long list, is getting his other supplies and food gathered. (He's like a bear preparing for winter hibernation and no matter how many times I say, "Hon, we'll take care of that closer to time.") Do ya think he listens? No way!
Along with gathering these yearly supplies, he's changing the oil in and gasing up the 4-wheeler, cause Lord knows these little jewels are sooo quiet, one can sneak right up on the poor unsuspecting deer.
I won't even begin to tell you the number of times he loads up said 4-wheeler and hauls his buns to the woods just so he can look for "Deer Sign." Because you know, where that deer is today, it'll certainly be there tomorrow, same time, same place.
He puts out corn. (Numerous sacks of corn)Waste of time and money. He did this one year and some other hunter took his spot he'd been preparing for weeks. Cracked me up when he came home griping about it.
The latest thing he's putting out to attract that big buck? Peanut butter! On the trees. OMG!!! I can't imagine how many trees he's painted with it. He came home last night from the deer woods telling me how he and his hunting buddie bought four jars of peanut butter and smeared it on the trees.
Again, I'm cracking up and told him all he'd attract with that was ants. But hey, that's okay cause he said the deer would just eat the ants too...
Is it just me or do the males of our species go just a little bit insane every year about this time? I see hundreds of campers, men in orange and all they're doing is driving up and down the highway a dozen damn times and I'm thinking, Aren't the deer in the woods?
I can think of better places I'd rather be at four a.m. than out in the cold, stealing through the woods, possibly getting mistaken for a deer and shot for my trouble.
This morning, however, topped it off for me...DH was getting ready to leave and in his hurry to dash out the front door, poured a glass of icewater on my keyboard.
Now there's nothing that sparks my temper any quicker than for anyone to stumble around in the dark at said four a.m. when I'm trying to sleep, and dumps water on my computer board.
Knowing how anal I am about my precious computer when I ask him what he's doing (Because I keep hearing this odd sound of him cleaning) he tells me he knocked over some quarters I have stacked on my desk. But this odd cleaning sound goes on and on and it's not like I have a big stack of quarters there.
Suspicion flares."What are you doing?" I ask.
"Oh, I spilled a little bit of water on your computer."
Let me tell you, my eyes popped open and out of bed I rolled because I know his little bit and my little bit are two entirely different numbers. It turns out to be the flippin' glass full of water. Big glass.
By now, I'm wide-awake. He's apologetic. I'm ticked. I have no clue what damage it will do to my computer, but right at the moment, my "V" keeps sticking and some of the keys seem to be getting harder to press down...
However, basically I'm a pacifist. I won't mistake him for a deer in my bedroom and plug DH with his single bullet.I'm nice. I tell him to go on hunting, but underneath it all, he KNOWS there won't be any supper cooked and waiting on him when he returns home later today.
Gee, I hope his hunting buddie doesn't fall asleep in the deer woods today the way he did yesterday and miss that big buck snacking on peanut butter!
Happy Hunting,
Tabs
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Facts About Me!!
Hi Readers,
Today I thought instead of asking a question, I'd fill in some facts about my family and me. Hope this isn't too boring...and yes, I'll answer any questions you leave in your comments...maybe.
Facts:
My mother married when she was thirteen. I was born when she was fifteen.
For the first seven years of school, I attended a two room school house with two teachers. One teacher taught from first through fourth grade, and we were all in one room together. The other taught from fourth through eighth, same thing, all in one room.
I'm the eldest of nine kids. All of us are still living, except for one. I lost a brother when he was twenty in a car wreck. Two of my sisters have had heart attacks, both were in their early forties when it happened. Neither had a weight problem, but both smoked. I have a weight problem, I don't smoke, and knock on wood, I haven't had a heart attack...yet.
I married when I was seventeen, divorced when I was twenty-three, married again when I was twenty-five and have been married to that man for over thirty-four years, but if he keeps telling everyone I write about sex and it's about him and me, he might not make it another thirty-four years!
I'm the mother of five, four boys, one girl and the stepmother of two boys. When my ex-husband remarried, he married a woman with two boys and then he and his new wife had a boy. My poor daughter grew up with nine brothers who threatened every boy she dated that if she wasn't treated right and home on time...they'd be waiting. She didn't date much?
My family was nearly grown when I decided to go to nursing school.I'd always wanted to be a nurse, but I wanted to be an author more. While in nursing school, I wrote my first complete contemporary romance novel and the entire nursing class passed it around and read it--when we should have been studying for the next exam.Ha! That novel was published years later under the title, No Holds Barred, book two of the Montana Men series.
Fourteen years later my nursing career ended due to an accident and I returned to my first love: writing. I dusted off No Holds Barred, did some editing, changed the names of the characters and submitted it to my publisher. It has been one of my best sellers to date.
My life is full with family, friends, a good husband, and wonderful fans who love my books. Who could ask for more?
Well, I'd love to be on the New York Times best seller's list...yeah, I know, keep dreaming!
See you tomorrow!
Tabitha Shay
Labels: author, eternal press, family, friends, Futuristic romances, tabitha shay
Today I thought instead of asking a question, I'd fill in some facts about my family and me. Hope this isn't too boring...and yes, I'll answer any questions you leave in your comments...maybe.
Facts:
My mother married when she was thirteen. I was born when she was fifteen.
For the first seven years of school, I attended a two room school house with two teachers. One teacher taught from first through fourth grade, and we were all in one room together. The other taught from fourth through eighth, same thing, all in one room.
I'm the eldest of nine kids. All of us are still living, except for one. I lost a brother when he was twenty in a car wreck. Two of my sisters have had heart attacks, both were in their early forties when it happened. Neither had a weight problem, but both smoked. I have a weight problem, I don't smoke, and knock on wood, I haven't had a heart attack...yet.
I married when I was seventeen, divorced when I was twenty-three, married again when I was twenty-five and have been married to that man for over thirty-four years, but if he keeps telling everyone I write about sex and it's about him and me, he might not make it another thirty-four years!
I'm the mother of five, four boys, one girl and the stepmother of two boys. When my ex-husband remarried, he married a woman with two boys and then he and his new wife had a boy. My poor daughter grew up with nine brothers who threatened every boy she dated that if she wasn't treated right and home on time...they'd be waiting. She didn't date much?
My family was nearly grown when I decided to go to nursing school.I'd always wanted to be a nurse, but I wanted to be an author more. While in nursing school, I wrote my first complete contemporary romance novel and the entire nursing class passed it around and read it--when we should have been studying for the next exam.Ha! That novel was published years later under the title, No Holds Barred, book two of the Montana Men series.
Fourteen years later my nursing career ended due to an accident and I returned to my first love: writing. I dusted off No Holds Barred, did some editing, changed the names of the characters and submitted it to my publisher. It has been one of my best sellers to date.
My life is full with family, friends, a good husband, and wonderful fans who love my books. Who could ask for more?
Well, I'd love to be on the New York Times best seller's list...yeah, I know, keep dreaming!
See you tomorrow!
Tabitha Shay
Labels: author, eternal press, family, friends, Futuristic romances, tabitha shay
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
SHARING THE JOY!!!
Hi Readers,
This kind of news isn't one a person gets to announce very often, but I'm so happy and thrilled to share with everyone the news that my daughter is expecting a little bundle of joy.
This news in itself isn't that big a deal. Right? But the other news to go along with this is the fact that her daughter is expecting as well. Too cool!
Now the major news!! Woo Hoo!!! They're both having their babies the first week of June.
Yes!! They're trying to make an old woman out of me, but I refuse to give in gracefully, although I'll be both a grandmother and great-grandmother at the same time.
As you will recall, the big addition to my family almost two years ago were my twin grandsons, Chance and Keiffer...
These days, babies in my family seem to arrive in twos...aren't I blessed???
No matter, babies are always a blessing and root out a place in our hearts and make it their home.
So please join me in welcoming into my family, two delightful bundles of joy due in the spring of 2010.
Tabs
This kind of news isn't one a person gets to announce very often, but I'm so happy and thrilled to share with everyone the news that my daughter is expecting a little bundle of joy.
This news in itself isn't that big a deal. Right? But the other news to go along with this is the fact that her daughter is expecting as well. Too cool!
Now the major news!! Woo Hoo!!! They're both having their babies the first week of June.
Yes!! They're trying to make an old woman out of me, but I refuse to give in gracefully, although I'll be both a grandmother and great-grandmother at the same time.
As you will recall, the big addition to my family almost two years ago were my twin grandsons, Chance and Keiffer...
These days, babies in my family seem to arrive in twos...aren't I blessed???
No matter, babies are always a blessing and root out a place in our hearts and make it their home.
So please join me in welcoming into my family, two delightful bundles of joy due in the spring of 2010.
Tabs
Friday, November 13, 2009
BULLFIGHTS AND BURGERS BY MAGGIE DOVE
Good Morning Readers,
So sorry for the delay posting this lovely story by the talented romance author, Maggie Dove. Unfortunately, she and I ran into a few technical difficulties this morning, but better late than never. So please make welcome, Maggie Dove while she shares a part of her true life experiences with you in Bullfights and Burgers. Leave a wonderful comment so at the end of the day you have a chance to win an E-copy of Maggie's new book, the historical romance novel, Angel of Windward.Pssst! Her book has been at the top of the charts and was the number one best selling historical romance at Fictionwise, so you definitely want this book.
BULLFIGHTS AND BURGERS
I was born in Cuba in 1954, five years before Fidel Castro's communist regime took over the island. In 1960, my family was forced to flee to the United States. Although I was brought up in Miami, it took me twenty years and a trip to Spain to realize that I was a "true American." During the first year of exile, my family lived in a vacation-like atmosphere. All of us believed that we would be returning to Cuba in a matter of months. We were certain that communism would not be allowed to exist only ninety miles from the United States. However, after the Bay Of Pigs invasion, we knew that we were here to stay.
When I was growing up, I was welcomed and treated as an equal by all of my American friends. I was raised on hamburgers and rice and beans. I spoke Spanish at home and English in school. I memorized the Star Spangled Banner and learned all about the Mayflower. I dressed up for Halloween and celebrated Thanksgiving. I even became a U.S. citizen; however when someone asked about my nationality, I always answered "Cuban."
In 1974, on my twentieth birthday, my sister and brother-in-law invited me to spend a year with them in Spain. My brother-in-law was the manager of an American company in Madrid. They had been living there for two years. I was thrilled. I would never return to Cuba, but here was my opportunity to see the land from where my ancestors had come. I decided not to spend my time studying in Spain. I wanted to travel all over the country and learn about its people. I spent time in San Sebastian and Barcelona. I went to Marbella during the summer and visited Pamplona (the town that Ernest Hemingway wrote about in The Sun Also Rises).I saw dozens of bullfights and enjoyed clapping the beat to the flamenco dances. I went to El Greco's home in Toledo, the El prado museum in Madrid and beautiful Aranquez. I was amazed by the Escorial, the exquisite monastery and palace built by Phillip II.
I found Spain to be a magnificent country with colorful customs and wonderful traditions; nevertheless, there was something missing. I encountered a very closed-minded society. One had to be born and bred in Spain to be considered worthwhile. I felt like an outsider. In order to be accepted, I wanted to explain that my grandfather had been a very famous writer and that his statue stood in one of their main promenades. I wanted to tell them that when my grandmother had visited Spain thirty years before, Franco had welcomed her to his home. Yet, I sensed it would be to no avail. Thus, the only real friends that I made were foreign students living in Madrid.
As time passed, I began to feel sorry for the Spaniards that I encountered. It was sad to meet people that could not appreciate anyone that was different. How predicatable and limited they all seemed. How fortunate I felt to have been raised in a place that combined all different cultures and molded them together to form a great country.
I realized the differences between the United States and Spain. In the United States, a person is judged by what one accomplishes and is respected for one's merits. In 1974, a person in Spain was judged by whether or not they carried a title.
During my last month in Spain, I had a very enlightening experience. I was late for a luncheon appointment and decided to take a taxicab to save time. The driver, noticing my Cuban-American accent, asked me where I was from. I told him that I came from the United States. "Oh, the imperialistic U.S.A.," he said flatly.
It took me awhile to answer him. I was so furious that I could not see straight. How dare this man insult my country? How ignorant of him to say such a thing!
I had never felt more American in my life. I looked at him and said, "Yes, how about those Yankees? How imperialistic of them to provide food and help to many countries that cannot appreciate it and are ungrateful enough to resent it!"
He immediately apologized and I was actually grateful to him. For the first time in my life, I knew who I was. I was a Spanish-speaking, Cuban-born, American-Yankee! A month late when I arrived at Miami International Airport, I knew I was really home.
It has been many years since my eventful trip to Spain. I know that there is a part of me that will always remain Cuban. It is a part that I hold very dear. It consists of my Spanish upbringing, my passion for "arroz con pollo," and my parents' memories of their stolen paradise. However, I also love pizza, burritos, bagels, sweet and sour pork and frankfurters. It is wonderful to live in a country where one can eat all this and still think one is consuming and American meal!
(I have returned to Spain since and have found it to be a much more open and congenial society than the one I encountered in 1974.)
www.maggiedove.net
http://www.eternalpress.ca
So sorry for the delay posting this lovely story by the talented romance author, Maggie Dove. Unfortunately, she and I ran into a few technical difficulties this morning, but better late than never. So please make welcome, Maggie Dove while she shares a part of her true life experiences with you in Bullfights and Burgers. Leave a wonderful comment so at the end of the day you have a chance to win an E-copy of Maggie's new book, the historical romance novel, Angel of Windward.Pssst! Her book has been at the top of the charts and was the number one best selling historical romance at Fictionwise, so you definitely want this book.
BULLFIGHTS AND BURGERS
I was born in Cuba in 1954, five years before Fidel Castro's communist regime took over the island. In 1960, my family was forced to flee to the United States. Although I was brought up in Miami, it took me twenty years and a trip to Spain to realize that I was a "true American." During the first year of exile, my family lived in a vacation-like atmosphere. All of us believed that we would be returning to Cuba in a matter of months. We were certain that communism would not be allowed to exist only ninety miles from the United States. However, after the Bay Of Pigs invasion, we knew that we were here to stay.
When I was growing up, I was welcomed and treated as an equal by all of my American friends. I was raised on hamburgers and rice and beans. I spoke Spanish at home and English in school. I memorized the Star Spangled Banner and learned all about the Mayflower. I dressed up for Halloween and celebrated Thanksgiving. I even became a U.S. citizen; however when someone asked about my nationality, I always answered "Cuban."
In 1974, on my twentieth birthday, my sister and brother-in-law invited me to spend a year with them in Spain. My brother-in-law was the manager of an American company in Madrid. They had been living there for two years. I was thrilled. I would never return to Cuba, but here was my opportunity to see the land from where my ancestors had come. I decided not to spend my time studying in Spain. I wanted to travel all over the country and learn about its people. I spent time in San Sebastian and Barcelona. I went to Marbella during the summer and visited Pamplona (the town that Ernest Hemingway wrote about in The Sun Also Rises).I saw dozens of bullfights and enjoyed clapping the beat to the flamenco dances. I went to El Greco's home in Toledo, the El prado museum in Madrid and beautiful Aranquez. I was amazed by the Escorial, the exquisite monastery and palace built by Phillip II.
I found Spain to be a magnificent country with colorful customs and wonderful traditions; nevertheless, there was something missing. I encountered a very closed-minded society. One had to be born and bred in Spain to be considered worthwhile. I felt like an outsider. In order to be accepted, I wanted to explain that my grandfather had been a very famous writer and that his statue stood in one of their main promenades. I wanted to tell them that when my grandmother had visited Spain thirty years before, Franco had welcomed her to his home. Yet, I sensed it would be to no avail. Thus, the only real friends that I made were foreign students living in Madrid.
As time passed, I began to feel sorry for the Spaniards that I encountered. It was sad to meet people that could not appreciate anyone that was different. How predicatable and limited they all seemed. How fortunate I felt to have been raised in a place that combined all different cultures and molded them together to form a great country.
I realized the differences between the United States and Spain. In the United States, a person is judged by what one accomplishes and is respected for one's merits. In 1974, a person in Spain was judged by whether or not they carried a title.
During my last month in Spain, I had a very enlightening experience. I was late for a luncheon appointment and decided to take a taxicab to save time. The driver, noticing my Cuban-American accent, asked me where I was from. I told him that I came from the United States. "Oh, the imperialistic U.S.A.," he said flatly.
It took me awhile to answer him. I was so furious that I could not see straight. How dare this man insult my country? How ignorant of him to say such a thing!
I had never felt more American in my life. I looked at him and said, "Yes, how about those Yankees? How imperialistic of them to provide food and help to many countries that cannot appreciate it and are ungrateful enough to resent it!"
He immediately apologized and I was actually grateful to him. For the first time in my life, I knew who I was. I was a Spanish-speaking, Cuban-born, American-Yankee! A month late when I arrived at Miami International Airport, I knew I was really home.
It has been many years since my eventful trip to Spain. I know that there is a part of me that will always remain Cuban. It is a part that I hold very dear. It consists of my Spanish upbringing, my passion for "arroz con pollo," and my parents' memories of their stolen paradise. However, I also love pizza, burritos, bagels, sweet and sour pork and frankfurters. It is wonderful to live in a country where one can eat all this and still think one is consuming and American meal!
(I have returned to Spain since and have found it to be a much more open and congenial society than the one I encountered in 1974.)
www.maggiedove.net
http://www.eternalpress.ca
Friday, November 6, 2009
NaNoWriMo
NaNoWriMo seems to be getting bigger every year. Apparently, it's even made it into pop culture. For those not in the know, NaNoWriMo stands for National Novel Writing Month. If you accept the challege, you join the legions of writers trying to write a 50,000 word novel by November 30th.
I'm not participating. I tried to in the past, but it didn't work out. I put up respectable numbers (28,000) but had to do so much revision that I might as well not have bothered.
The about page on the NaNoWriMo website says:
That's pretty much the opposite way I write. I believe in getting the chapter/scene/paragraph the best it can be before I move on. I don't like plowing through a novel if I know the previous scenes aren't strong. If you fix an earlier scene, it has impacts throughout the book.
Even then, my work needs to be proofread, critiqued, and edited before it's polished enough to let anyone read it. You can imagine what this process is like if you start with word-vomited crap. It's just not worth it.
The other aspect of NaNoWriMo is that it teaches writers to set goals and work toward them. Well, I don't really have deadlines so this isn't a problem. I find that I want to write everyday, especially if I think what I'm writing is good. I don't set a daily goal because I never know what my day will be like. I open my manuscript, read the last scene, continue where it left off, and stop when I draw a blank. I can usually crank out a few hundred words with this method.
But NaNoWriMo requires a lot more than a few hundred words five days a week. For each of the 30 days in November, you have to crank out 1667 words. Keep in mind there's Thanksgiving too. My average speed is 500 words every hour, mainly because I sit there and ponder each sentence, each character action. So to do 1667+ words daily, that's over 3 hours of writing. Between work, family stuff, and the dog that's damn hard to do. It's giving up everything that helps me relax - watching tv and reading a good book.
I feel like the basis of NaNoWriMo is misleading. "It's all about quantity, not quality." I think you'd be better off writing quality work from the start, and with practice, get faster and set goals. Even so, I wish all the participants good luck and happy writing.
I'm not participating. I tried to in the past, but it didn't work out. I put up respectable numbers (28,000) but had to do so much revision that I might as well not have bothered.
The about page on the NaNoWriMo website says:
Because of the limited writing window, the ONLY thing that matters in NaNoWriMo is output. It's all about quantity, not quality. The kamikaze approach forces you to lower your expectations, take risks, and write on the fly.
Make no mistake: You will be writing a lot of crap. And that's a good thing. By forcing yourself to write so intensely, you are giving yourself permission to make mistakes. To forgo the endless tweaking and editing and just create.
That's pretty much the opposite way I write. I believe in getting the chapter/scene/paragraph the best it can be before I move on. I don't like plowing through a novel if I know the previous scenes aren't strong. If you fix an earlier scene, it has impacts throughout the book.
Even then, my work needs to be proofread, critiqued, and edited before it's polished enough to let anyone read it. You can imagine what this process is like if you start with word-vomited crap. It's just not worth it.
The other aspect of NaNoWriMo is that it teaches writers to set goals and work toward them. Well, I don't really have deadlines so this isn't a problem. I find that I want to write everyday, especially if I think what I'm writing is good. I don't set a daily goal because I never know what my day will be like. I open my manuscript, read the last scene, continue where it left off, and stop when I draw a blank. I can usually crank out a few hundred words with this method.
But NaNoWriMo requires a lot more than a few hundred words five days a week. For each of the 30 days in November, you have to crank out 1667 words. Keep in mind there's Thanksgiving too. My average speed is 500 words every hour, mainly because I sit there and ponder each sentence, each character action. So to do 1667+ words daily, that's over 3 hours of writing. Between work, family stuff, and the dog that's damn hard to do. It's giving up everything that helps me relax - watching tv and reading a good book.
I feel like the basis of NaNoWriMo is misleading. "It's all about quantity, not quality." I think you'd be better off writing quality work from the start, and with practice, get faster and set goals. Even so, I wish all the participants good luck and happy writing.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
First Person POV
I find it interesting the surge in First Person Narrative books lately. First person is when a story is told from the main character's perspective. I, me, we, are used frequently rather than he, she, them which is Third Person Narrative.
Not only has more books been published in First Person, but they have been hugely successful. Suzanne Collins' Hunger Games series. Patricia Briggs' Mercy Thompson novels. Maria V. Synder's Poison Study trilogy. Stephanie Meyer's Twilight series. Zoe's Tale by John Scalzi.
You want more? From the USAToday Best Seller list:
Push by Sapphire
The Sookie Stackhouse series by Charlaine Harris
The Vampire Academy series by Richelle Mead
The Lighning Thief by Rick Riordan
The Time Traveler's Wife (yes, both Clare and Henry are narrators, but the author identifies who is narrating at the beginning of each scene.)
I could go on, but I've made my point. There are a number of current best selling books that use First Person.
So what, right? Out of all the books out there, it would make sense for some to be written in First Person. Well, not exactly. There are numerous articles and writing advice that consistently say to use Third Person for creative writing. I won't list them all, but here's one. The general opinion is that writing in First Person is something that beginner writers do. Some literary agents refuse to consider it. There is nothing wrong with that; that is their choice. However, look at the best seller list again.
Personally I'm thrilled that First Person is getting so much success. It's darned easier to write than Third Person.
1. You place yourself in the head of a single character.
You totally submerge yourself in this other character. How does she see the world around her? How did her upbringing and events in the past affect her choices and personality? What does she think of other people? How does she perceive herself in the group dynamic?
First Person narrative is easier to do character development with because you know every thought the character has, without writing something corny like, that's enough television for today, she thought. First Person allows you to write, I've had way too much boob tube today. The character's personality and vernacular are allowed to shine.
2. Plot twists are easier.
I find the limiting view of First Person narrative to be not limiting at all. Readers often complain they are only getting one side of the story, the side the protagonist sees and what she can figure out. That's true of First Person. There will be a lot going on behind the scenes that the protagonist is not aware of. Then again, did Harry Potter know everything that was going on? So that argument is not true of Third Person either.
As a writer, I love the fact my protagonist only knows things from her perspective. That's more like real life. And I can throw twists into the story that she, and hopefully the reader weren't expecting. For example, your protagonist is skipping along living a happy life. She notices one of her friends, Matt, has been in a bad mood for a week, but she figures it was because he got in trouble for something at home. She totally wasn't expecting his bad mood was because she said she'd go to the dance with another guy. The clues that Matt is in love with her are subtle, but she (and the reader) miss them, until they go back and analyze the events up to that point.
3. Emotions are easier to portray.
Third Person narrative is tough when it comes to emotions. Let's use anger for example.
A boiling wave emanated from Annie. Her fingers shook at what Tim said to her.
Melodramatic, isn't it?
I wanted to kick his ass, and I thought about all the ways I could do it. Baseball bat, copper pipe, headbutt, spiked heel, etc. I wasn't in the mood to be picky.
Better, yes?
Maybe the creative writing experts are correct, and First Person is the mark of a beginner writer. Oh well. I find Third Person to be laboring, and who the heck wants to labor through a 90,000 word manuscript? Bring on the First Person, baby.
Not only has more books been published in First Person, but they have been hugely successful. Suzanne Collins' Hunger Games series. Patricia Briggs' Mercy Thompson novels. Maria V. Synder's Poison Study trilogy. Stephanie Meyer's Twilight series. Zoe's Tale by John Scalzi.
You want more? From the USAToday Best Seller list:
Push by Sapphire
The Sookie Stackhouse series by Charlaine Harris
The Vampire Academy series by Richelle Mead
The Lighning Thief by Rick Riordan
The Time Traveler's Wife (yes, both Clare and Henry are narrators, but the author identifies who is narrating at the beginning of each scene.)
I could go on, but I've made my point. There are a number of current best selling books that use First Person.
So what, right? Out of all the books out there, it would make sense for some to be written in First Person. Well, not exactly. There are numerous articles and writing advice that consistently say to use Third Person for creative writing. I won't list them all, but here's one. The general opinion is that writing in First Person is something that beginner writers do. Some literary agents refuse to consider it. There is nothing wrong with that; that is their choice. However, look at the best seller list again.
Personally I'm thrilled that First Person is getting so much success. It's darned easier to write than Third Person.
1. You place yourself in the head of a single character.
You totally submerge yourself in this other character. How does she see the world around her? How did her upbringing and events in the past affect her choices and personality? What does she think of other people? How does she perceive herself in the group dynamic?
First Person narrative is easier to do character development with because you know every thought the character has, without writing something corny like, that's enough television for today, she thought. First Person allows you to write, I've had way too much boob tube today. The character's personality and vernacular are allowed to shine.
2. Plot twists are easier.
I find the limiting view of First Person narrative to be not limiting at all. Readers often complain they are only getting one side of the story, the side the protagonist sees and what she can figure out. That's true of First Person. There will be a lot going on behind the scenes that the protagonist is not aware of. Then again, did Harry Potter know everything that was going on? So that argument is not true of Third Person either.
As a writer, I love the fact my protagonist only knows things from her perspective. That's more like real life. And I can throw twists into the story that she, and hopefully the reader weren't expecting. For example, your protagonist is skipping along living a happy life. She notices one of her friends, Matt, has been in a bad mood for a week, but she figures it was because he got in trouble for something at home. She totally wasn't expecting his bad mood was because she said she'd go to the dance with another guy. The clues that Matt is in love with her are subtle, but she (and the reader) miss them, until they go back and analyze the events up to that point.
3. Emotions are easier to portray.
Third Person narrative is tough when it comes to emotions. Let's use anger for example.
A boiling wave emanated from Annie. Her fingers shook at what Tim said to her.
Melodramatic, isn't it?
I wanted to kick his ass, and I thought about all the ways I could do it. Baseball bat, copper pipe, headbutt, spiked heel, etc. I wasn't in the mood to be picky.
Better, yes?
Maybe the creative writing experts are correct, and First Person is the mark of a beginner writer. Oh well. I find Third Person to be laboring, and who the heck wants to labor through a 90,000 word manuscript? Bring on the First Person, baby.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Women Only Parking
Seoul, South Korea has painted 5,000 parking spaces pink and designated them women only.
Yeah.
Since when did being a women become a handicap? The purpose behind these parking spaces is to increase happiness in women. South Korea is typically a male-driven society, and Seoul is putting $104 million dollars toward changing that image. Starting with parking spaces so high-heel wearing women don't have to walk far to work or to the mall.
No, I'm not kidding.
In addition to the parking spaces, the city is working toward finding women better jobs, building more restrooms, improving street lighting for safety, creating safer parks, and building more day care centers. Supposedly to relieve the worried stress about working and shopping.
I think it's curious that Seoul is doing all this under the slogan "Happy Women, Happy Seoul", and not because it's the right thing to do, creating safer parks and day cares for the families of the city. The women-only parking space is odd as hell, and just a little demeaning. I'm not versed in the fashion there, but I doubt women wear high heels everyday, all occasions. So to create parking spaces that are high-heel friendly is just dumb. The only justification I see for women-only spaces is in high crime areas. If you were trying to revitalize a section of the city by bringing in upscale stores, yeah I'd want my own parking space close to the store so I don't have to walk through the neighborhood.
You can imagine how this idea for "Happy Women, Happy Seoul" came about. The men in charge realized they must do something about the gender inequality. Maybe the womenfolk were getting restless or outside influences forced their hand. Whatever. So they sat in a room and thought about ways to improve the lives of women. Thus making them happier and making men's lives easier. Because if the little wifey is happy, the whole family is, right? When the idea for convenient parking was introduced, the men in charge thought it was fabulous idea. Those women and their insensible shoes needed to go shopping!
I guarantee you not one woman was consulted on the idea on how to improve gender inequality. Kinda says something about the greater mentality, doesn't it?
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Starting a Novel
I was asked a question yesterday by someone wanting to write a novel. Where do I start?
For the sake of keeping this post short, let's not go into details on how your first step should be research, outlines, character sketches, synopses, plus creating subplots, internal conflict, and the entire details of the setting. Let's assume the question asker meant "what should my first scene be?"
A lot of resources will tell you to start where your story gets exciting. This website suggests starting with your hero in immediate danger. Or the "the discovery of the body, not the detective commuting to work or reading the morning newspaper."
This website gives the worst advice of all. "Unveil the back story to your novel by using flashbacks and narrative reminiscences in the first chapter."
But here's one that gets it right. "The first chapter should begin just before a pivotal event in your protagonist’s life."
"Begin just before" is the key phrase there. It's my opinion that you have to set up the normal life of the protagonist first, before you set things in motion. It's the only way the reader can understand why the pivotal event is so pivotal. Usually the normal life is unhappy in some way. After all, you can't have a happy ending without an unhappy beginning.
Let's jump into a few examples.
Harry Potter and the Sorceror's Stone started with Harry living under the stairs at his aunt and uncle's house. He was entirely miserable, having to endure a trip to the zoo to celebrate his cousin's birthday. Then the pivotal event happened...an owl showed up with an invitation to a school.
If we were going to take the advice of the first website, Harry Potter and the Sorceror's Stone would've started with the owl. We would've learned about Harry's home life through backstory and flashbacks. The problem with that is you have to pause the linear story to go back and give information. It would read like--Harry gets the invitation from the owl. It's really exciting for him because his life was so miserable. For example, there was this one time at the zoo...
It doesn't work as well. You have to stop all forward motion with the owl and put the reader's curiosity on hold. You also have the added problem of Show vs Tell working correctly. A good writer will SHOW Harry miserable, rather than saying he was.
Another example is the movie Speed. It doesn't start with everyone on the bus learning there is a bomb aboard. It starts with us learning that Annie lost her license, and with Jack responding to a threat in an elevator, plus how he interacts with his partner. So later when his partner dies, we understand the magnitude of his loss. We also understand why the bomb on the bus is personal for Jack.
Lord of the Rings starts in a happy, utopia called the shire. The unhappiness surrounding it is that Bilbo is losing his mind.
A Christmas Carol doesn't start with Scrooge being warned he'll be visited by ghosts. It starts with him at work, hating Christmas, treating people badly, and all around not a nice person.
The Matrix starts with Neo as a boring, unhappy computer programmer.
You'll always find exceptions to the rule. There are plenty of stories that begin with a man running for his life through an alley, or a woman being murdered. Watchmen started with a murder. Desperate Housewives started with a suicide. Pretty much every crime show on television starts with a body. But then again, we see those characters every week, and it isn't until the 4th or 5th episode do we want to learn more about their regular lives.
My advice is to know the genre you are writing in. Go to the library and get several of the most popular books currently out. Where do they start? Murder Mystery might start with a body. Historical fiction might start with a protagonist on a stroll through Victorian England. Fantasy most likely starts with a farm boy or bar maid.
For crap's sake don't copy these stories. All I'm saying is know if the genre typically starts with the pivotal moment, or right before. Does the farm boy perform his miserable chores for a drunkard father before the evil sorceror shows up?
For the sake of keeping this post short, let's not go into details on how your first step should be research, outlines, character sketches, synopses, plus creating subplots, internal conflict, and the entire details of the setting. Let's assume the question asker meant "what should my first scene be?"
A lot of resources will tell you to start where your story gets exciting. This website suggests starting with your hero in immediate danger. Or the "the discovery of the body, not the detective commuting to work or reading the morning newspaper."
This website gives the worst advice of all. "Unveil the back story to your novel by using flashbacks and narrative reminiscences in the first chapter."
But here's one that gets it right. "The first chapter should begin just before a pivotal event in your protagonist’s life."
"Begin just before" is the key phrase there. It's my opinion that you have to set up the normal life of the protagonist first, before you set things in motion. It's the only way the reader can understand why the pivotal event is so pivotal. Usually the normal life is unhappy in some way. After all, you can't have a happy ending without an unhappy beginning.
Let's jump into a few examples.
Harry Potter and the Sorceror's Stone started with Harry living under the stairs at his aunt and uncle's house. He was entirely miserable, having to endure a trip to the zoo to celebrate his cousin's birthday. Then the pivotal event happened...an owl showed up with an invitation to a school.
If we were going to take the advice of the first website, Harry Potter and the Sorceror's Stone would've started with the owl. We would've learned about Harry's home life through backstory and flashbacks. The problem with that is you have to pause the linear story to go back and give information. It would read like--Harry gets the invitation from the owl. It's really exciting for him because his life was so miserable. For example, there was this one time at the zoo...
It doesn't work as well. You have to stop all forward motion with the owl and put the reader's curiosity on hold. You also have the added problem of Show vs Tell working correctly. A good writer will SHOW Harry miserable, rather than saying he was.
Another example is the movie Speed. It doesn't start with everyone on the bus learning there is a bomb aboard. It starts with us learning that Annie lost her license, and with Jack responding to a threat in an elevator, plus how he interacts with his partner. So later when his partner dies, we understand the magnitude of his loss. We also understand why the bomb on the bus is personal for Jack.
Lord of the Rings starts in a happy, utopia called the shire. The unhappiness surrounding it is that Bilbo is losing his mind.
A Christmas Carol doesn't start with Scrooge being warned he'll be visited by ghosts. It starts with him at work, hating Christmas, treating people badly, and all around not a nice person.
The Matrix starts with Neo as a boring, unhappy computer programmer.
You'll always find exceptions to the rule. There are plenty of stories that begin with a man running for his life through an alley, or a woman being murdered. Watchmen started with a murder. Desperate Housewives started with a suicide. Pretty much every crime show on television starts with a body. But then again, we see those characters every week, and it isn't until the 4th or 5th episode do we want to learn more about their regular lives.
My advice is to know the genre you are writing in. Go to the library and get several of the most popular books currently out. Where do they start? Murder Mystery might start with a body. Historical fiction might start with a protagonist on a stroll through Victorian England. Fantasy most likely starts with a farm boy or bar maid.
For crap's sake don't copy these stories. All I'm saying is know if the genre typically starts with the pivotal moment, or right before. Does the farm boy perform his miserable chores for a drunkard father before the evil sorceror shows up?
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