15 Minutes.

Daily Prompt : You have 15 minutes to address the whole world live (on television or radio — choose your format). What would you say?

(I find myself standing on a stage in front of millions of people. A hush has fallen over the crowd. It’s quiet. Except for a couple coughs and readjusting their seat. They wait. Cameras flash as people take pictures. Film crews, many, surrounding the stage that I shakily stand on. It’s Christmas Eve. The world has gone crazy on the debate whether or not Santa Clause is real. The world is watching. I fumble with my index cards as I look at the crowd, one more swoop through, and wonder if anything I was about to say would mean anything to any of them. I clear my throat.)

Dear People of the word, (My voice sound weak. Almost hoarse. I know if I’m going to get this to work, I must sound more proud. I straighten my back and take a deep breath. Starting over.)

Dear People Of The World, (A couple people smile in the front. I wonder if they know how nervous I am. How everything I was about to say I meant and I believe.)

Lately. (I adjust my skirt.) We have had a big debate on the existence of Santa Clause. Whether or not he is real, or an old fairy tale our parents told us to keep us in line – since no one has ever saw him. Thinking on this topic makes me think of a cartoon I watched the other night, “Yes, Virginia”.

(I stop for a moment and take a breather. I glance down at my hands, which are knotted and intertwined in themselves. A pretzel. I didn’t realize I could get my hands to look like this. The crowd, the world waits for me to continue.)

I have tried, many times in my lifetime, to explain why people should always believe in Santa Clause, whether you are 6 or 106, and until I watched that cartoon, alone in my cold living room, did I hear the best way to explain the reason. (I wipe my forehead free of sweat.) Out of curiosity I Googled the clipping from the newspaper in the cartoon and realized it was a real clipping from a newspaper from September 21, 1897 and written by a news reporter by the name of Francis Pharcellus Church.

I want to read this news paper clipping from the New York Sun if you’ll have me.

(Out of a small pocket on my jacket I pull out a folded piece of paper. I unfold it, shaking just a little, and run my eyes over the words that were printed on the sheet. I couldn’t believe I was standing in front of these millions of people. The world. Explaining to them why anyone, no matter how old they are, should believe in Santa Clause. I begin:)

Virginia O’Hanlon wrote to the sun, this is what she wrote, “Dear Editor, I am eight years old. Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Clause. Papa says, ‘If you see it in The Sun it’s so.’ Please tell me the truth; is there a Santa Clause?” After a quick response, Mr. Church replied, and he wrote:

‘Virginia, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except for what they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men’s or children’s, are little. In this great universe of ours man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.

Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus. It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginia’s. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.

Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies! You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas Eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if they did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that’s no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.

You may tear apart the baby’s rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, Virginia, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding.

No Santa Claus! Thank God! he lives, and he lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.’

(I folded the piece of paper and placed it back in my pocket, never looking up at the crowd. If I were to drop a pin, I’d hear it. I closed my eyes and took a moment for myself before lifting my head and revealing a jaw dropped audience. A couple, sitting in the middle of the front row, smiled, tears speckled their cheeks. I felt my heart expand. The crowd stood on it’s feet, applauding. I smiled.)

Thank you. (I took my bow. I took that moment to enjoy everything. Even if I didn’t win over everyone, even if I didn’t win the debate, I believe that I got my point across. The love and beauty, never being written so well since, still rings in my head from that clipping. I enjoyed it. If one person, or two, enjoyed it as much as me. Then I did my job.)

(I turned on my heels and began walking away. I didn’t stop until I got back to my hotel room where I dropped, roughly, on my bed and pulled a sheet over my face. I was still fully dressed as the last bit of sun peeked it’s “Hello!” through my window. I didn’t know what would happen the next day but I was proud. I was happy, and for me, that was enough.)

Ice + Cold = Me Still Not Writing.

Thursday into Friday it sleeted here. Constantly. Crazily. All night. Meaning – I have been stuck in the house (only leaving once to go to the Post office & pick up my copy of “Gabriel’s Redemption” by Sylvian Reynard.)

You would think, not being able to leave, I’d jump into writing and work nonstop on my novel. Right. That would be the smart thing to do. Write while I can’t leave. Finish the first draft. Seriously? Why would I do that?

I should be working on the draft rather than just sitting in my house watching Netflix. A couple nights ago I decided to watch “Once Upon A Time” and now I’m addicted. In fact, as soon as I finish this post, about how I’m not writing, I’m going to watch more of the show on my laptop.

I still have all intentions of writing, I do. I have all intentions of finishing it. But I’m still stuck. I have wrote the beginning and the end. I’m having trouble finding the middle. Think of it as a sandwich. I have two pieces of bread and no bologna. (What a meat to think of, bologna.) I have a couple parts in mind to use, and I’ve basically wrote them out. However, it needs something else because it doesn’t make sense otherwise.

I will say this much, though. I may not be writing but I am thinking about it constantly. Always have paper around – in my purse, car, beside my bed, at my desk, & on my coffee table. I went out a couple Friday’s ago with some friends. In the middle of a ‘bar’ I began writing. Jotting down notes. Inspiration hits me at odd times and in weird places. That’s why I always have paper and a pen. However, that particular night I did not. I rode to Denton, Texas with someone else, leaving paper in my car. But someone had a slip in their purse along with a pen.

Maybe I am in over my head. Maybe not?

*shakes head* I WILL finish this book.

(If I can get the first draft finished I will upload a synopsis about it and see if it would be worth reading. Basically seeing if someone might want to buy it and if I should go ahead and try for it to be published. So here is to finishing the first draft. *lifts mug of cocoa* ching!)

Don’t be a jerk! It’s Christmas!

It is the fourth of December.

December – a month where you’re supposed to be happy. It’s beginning to get cold – if it isn’t already cold. (I live in Southern Oklahoma – it’s just beginning to get cold.) Go out in public with a smile and help people as much as possible. Sometimes I forget that I don’t live in a pink world with cotton candy trees where people just break out in a musical number at the drop of a dime. (We can only wish.)

I was slapped in the face tonight with how much of a moron I really am. I went up to Family Dollar in hopes of finding a cheaper set of headphones because mine aren’t working anymore and I love listening to music when I write. I parked, wobbled in, and began searching. Once I found everything I needed (about eight things) I headed to the register. There were two people in front of me so I just stood to the side a little because they knew I was there, including the cashier.

Apparently, when I’m standing somewhere I tend to bob my head so I was doing that. (I noticed and stopped.) Waiting. I’m a patient person. Always have been even when I was a child. I figured if someone is in a bigger hurry than me there is a reason behind it. I’m never in a hurry. When I get into a hurry I tend to get flustered and never regain my composure. It’s easier for everyone in my life if I just take my time.

There I stand in line with my few items waiting. People get in line and go before me. Now I’d like to point out, I am 5’3″ but I’m as wide as a barn – you can see me. I promise. People were acting as if they couldn’t see me. They’d look at me and continue on. Finally it is back down to two people in front of me, I get a little excited because I’m about to leave. A boy in his teens gets in line, he glances at me, I do my normal “smile and nod my head.” Nothing. I shrug it off. Maybe he thought I like them younger and now totally want to attack him in the store. Who knows really?

A couple minutes flash by, the lady in front of him had a basket full, overflowing. I glance around a lot when I’m waiting in line. I take in the scenery, if you will. I glanced back over at the kid and now an older woman, possibly in her 40’s, is now standing with him. Her eyes never leave me. Yes, she is watching me like a hawk. I shrug that off. (I seriously am just that mellow.)

The woman is finishing up her payment and the teen looks over at his mom and gestures toward me. The mother (remember, she’s in her 40’s talking to her teenager) turns her back to me and proudly exclaims, “If the bitch was in line she would be next.” Then the mother pushes her son forward, almost bumping into the woman in front of them, and begins putting their stuff on the counter.

First, I’d like to say that I have very good hearing. I can honestly hear people whispering in a loud room.

Two, it takes a lot to piss me off. I just don’t see the point in being angry, at anything.

Three, that 40 year old mother of a teenager is a prime example of why teenagers now days need a good swift kick to the teeth. Because their parents, who they look up to, don’t teach them right & wrong.

Four, that mother angered me. I cussed to myself all the way to my car. Through the drive home. To my sister-in-law as I was dropping off the stuff for her. All the way across the street. To updating my Facebook status. And now, I’m still complaining.

You’re supposed to teach your children how to be respectful. If you have a basket full of stuff, someone has eight, you’re supposed to teach them that it’s okay to let them go first. But no. This woman will raise that teenager to be the type of person who is walking through Wal-Mart, someone ACCIDENTALLY bumps into him, and he punches them in the eye followed by some horrible language and a screaming match where he is eventually arrested.

Good luck in the world, young man. I wish you luck.

(Side note, this was written by a 26 year old. Goes to show just how much parents have changed in a few years.)

Writer Page.

I keep thinking about some of the articles I have read about being published. (I have never been myself.) I want to make a living out of writing. I dream of being an author, published, and everyone owning a copy of a book that I have wrote. I honestly don’t know if that will happen – I really don’t. But I do know that I have to start somewhere. Other than of course finishing my novel.

So tonight, as I listen to the Christmas Carol, I made a facebook community page – & I’m the only one that has liked it so far. I understand, right now, it will be fanless. I understand that because I’m still a nobody in the writing world. One day, however, I’d like to become a known writer in the writing community. Tonight, however, I understand I won’t.

Procrastination…

…is bad. I know it. But I do it anyway.

I haven’t really wrote anything in a week. Finished up my prologue & wrote my epilogue and finished chapter 11. I began chapter 12 last weekend – now – I haven’t been able to work anymore on it. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m having issues finishing it or not. I know how I want to end it. I basically already wrote the ending. But the middle. The peanut butter, if you will, is still missing. All I have is bread that has a little bit of jelly on it. I have to figure out the ‘peanut butter’ or I’ll never finish it. I have thought, since I am still working on the parts, that I would go back & correct it. However, what I do when I do that is fix it. “Butcher it”. Then it will end up like the short story I wrote a few years ago – in the bottom of my closet never to be finished. This story, however, I don’t want to do that to.

I want to finish it. I want to try & get it published. I want to feel a book, written by me, in my hands. But I wonder a lot if I will ever finish it. At this rate – I won’t.

A pickle.

I wanted to post a blog. However, I am tired tonight so I am posting a picture in stead.

Novel

I seem to work on this a lot. A lot less than I did before but still a lot compared to everything else I attempt to do. I still don’t seem to get very far into it. My problem? I want to get to the good parts and skip all the small parts. You know, the parts people consider the glue. But I realize that I have to put in all of the small parts or it wont make any sense. Sometimes I wish I could just snap my fingers and be done with it.

Easy button anyone?

Right now I am attempting to finish chapter nine. Mostly because I have been in this chapter way too long. Too long being nearly two months. I set myself a goal and at this rate I won’t achieve it.

What is the goal? I wanted to be done with the first draft by December 2013 – which would be a year. But at the rate I am at right now, it won’t happen. I have decided though, I won’t be hard in myself if I don’t achieve it. It sometimes takes people a couple years to write their first book. With jobs and every day life, sometimes you have to take what you can.

I have faith in myself and I know I can. It just takes time. Hopefully sooner than later I will be able to share my novel with y’all. A clip or something. Hopefully I write more often – typing on a cell phone can get annoying fast.

So until next time..

…

I haven’t wrote in a while. Not because I don’t want to, but because I have no ability to log onto the internet. That fact saddens me. I have all intentions of getting it – the only thing that i have left that I don’t have – but right now the funds don’t agree with me. Will it ever? I don’t have the answer to that.

Another question? Am I really missed all that much? Do people sit down at their computer during the day & think “Oh, Barbara hasn’t updated her blog lately…” No. No one thinks that. No one misses me online. Because no one knows who I am. One day possibly, but for now – I’m just a silent writer who aspires to be much more. Much, much more.

I was sitting in my bedroom the other night looking at my novel-in-the-works and my mind began to wander. (It does that often.) I began wondering what it would feel like to walk into a book store and see this large display of my book. Books with my name at the bottom. To stand there with the largest smile on my face because I know I accomplished something for myself, and now I am a published author. I sat there and wondered what it would be like, what it would feel like, to know that I can go around and tell people that I am a published author.

Then I began to wonder : would I actually tell someone that I am published author. “Oh hi. What do I do? Oh, I’m a published author! Take that bitches!” *snaps fingers in air* No. I wouldn’t say that. I might be thinking it. But I honestly believe that I would still reply with the normal “I’m a security dispatcher at a the second largest casino in the world.”

Other thoughts began to roam my brain. I have read a lot of books in my life. I love to read. But if you google the authors of all of these books none of them, but one, is below the age of 30. Is that because publishing companies don’t like to publish people below the age of 30? Or is that because most people below the age of 30 cannot write a book well enough to even be considered a great book? What makes a book great? Worth publishing.

I’m still on chapter seven. I’ve been on chapter seven for nearly a month. I am near the spot I wanted to be. But I’m no where near finishing chapter seven. Nor do I really know how to. I got advice from an older guy I work with. I’m not sure if I’ve ever said it before so just in case, he told me instead of writing from the beginning – to write to the end. I have no idea how I’m going to end chapter seven. I want it to end with a bang. Something nice. But what?

I need another brain. A working brain. I might talk to my ‘editor’. Wait. Not that kind of editor. A friend that isn’t afraid to tell me the harsh truth to tell me that my “hick is showing”. Stop giggling! My hick shows a lot. Sadly. But honestly what do you expect from living in Southern Oklahoma all my life. Shut up! I know that you don’t have to show your hick. It just depends on what I say. I’ll work through it. Stop giggling!

I don’t know. I’ll figure chapter seven out somehow. Or throw away the first six chapters and say to hell with it!

Inspiration Gone.

I was looking for inspiration. It’s been awhile since I have posted anything. But I have found nothing. None. No inspiration. So now what? Sit here and ramble about any and everything I possibly can think of. No. I will not do that. Today anyway.

I’m sitting here staring at my laptop. That’s actually something I have been doing since around eleven o’clock last night. I have been staring at the screen as I write. I finished up chapter five and began writing chapter six.

I’m tapping my fingers loudly on the coffee table as I sit in front of the television flipping through channels trying to find something to watch. I am starting to believe that television is becoming overrated. Nothing on. Ever. A person could have over three million channels and still have nothing to watch.

My mind is running amok in my head. A thousand thoughts are flying around in circles hitting each other in the head but none of them make any sense to me. It’s all a bunch of mumbling to me. The thought of being able to pick one out and understand it would be a great feeling.

It’s 8:30 in the morning. I’m sitting in my brother’s living room floor with my laptop in on his coffee table watching a television show, “House of Payne”, because there is nothing else on to watch.

I still have no inspiration. My mind is thinking about – mostly – my story. Frost. Chapter Six. I began this story the last week of November 2012 & I’m on Chapter Six. Chapter. Six. This is the first story I’ve wrote this much on. Normally, I would have already given up. But look at me! Excitement bubbles up every time I make another chapter. Excitement. Even if as I write further into the story it’s not the way I had planned. I planned it in November. Figured out what I was going to write. As I finish a chapter I rewrite the chapter. Then, as I’m writing the chapter, I rewrite it again. I finished chapter five and began chapter six. Went back and rewrote chapter five again. So in turn, I had to rewrite chapter six.

I still want to write y’all a short story. But every time I sit down to do so, I end up working on Frost instead and never finishing the short story. Yeah. I still have that problem. Start something and never finish it. I might give it another try today as I sit here waiting to watch my normal morning shows that I have missed all week. Yeah. Morning shows. Shows that come on in the mornings.

Summing it up…

I guess you could say that I am a little on the ‘slacking side’ Every year bloggers usually say what happened throughout the year and how much they’ve changed. I normally do. I think I did last year. I’m not sure. I’ve slept since then. Since I am not really doing anything I figured I’d go ahead and give it a shot.

1. I said goodbye to my normal November movie. The final installment of the Twilight Saga ended last year and once the movie is out on DVD, it’s done. Over with. Complete. I’m sad. Now I have to find something else to get obsessed with. (Besides 50 Shades of Grey and Gabriel’s Inferno.) And just an FYI, I bought my first popcorn bucket at Carmike 8 Theater and will probably never use it.

2. I began writing a novel. It’s called ‘Frost’ & as the end of the year ended I had three chapters wrote. I am, right now, working on chapter 5. I decided that if I want to be a writer I must begin writing something. So I began writing my twist on the famous Cinderella. Except mine isn’t the average (how many times will this story be wrote? I found one the other day that is about Cinderella being a robot (Cinder)…) I have been wanting to write this story for a long time & last year I decided just to do it.

3. Read an article in a newspaper that a co-worker gave me and realized that I need to get into the ‘writing community’ & get a following. Because publishing companies go by that when it comes to figuring out who to publish. They figure if people follow you to begin with then there is probably something there that will make them money. I completely understand but I’m having issues getting into it & getting followers. I have a few. & when I post something they like they hit ‘like’. But compared to a lot of people – three likes isn’t doing it. (Sometimes I wish they’d count my Facebook On one status I get nearly 20 likes. BUT – my family/friends think I’m hilarious. Strangers haven’t figured that out yet. Trust me, though, I’m HILARIOUS!)

4. April I moved out on my own. My own house. Paying bills myself. & I have decided it was probably by far the worse idea ever. Not living on my own. Living in this particular house. Right now, as I type this, my water is shut off because I have a leak in my bathtub & no one seems to be in a hurry to fix it. (I’m withholding rent until they fix it. They don’t know this yet. They’ll figure it out the first. They seem too busy to fix it. I’m too busy to pay it.) This is actually the THIRD leak I’ve had & I haven’t been there a year. My landlord’s husband done all of the plumbing. They should probably pay someone to do it for them. Because not only has he had to fix my plumbing but he had to fix it in EVERY house they own. I’m seriously thinking about moving into apartments in April when my lease is up. I’d hate to move out of a house into an apartment but at least they will fix it. I’ll miss living across the street from my brother, though.

5. I don’t believe I have a number 5. That seems to have summed up last year. Oh, other than the fact that we are still alive and I hope that no one done anything stupid. You know, for an example, run through your life savings. Buy a bunch of stuff you didn’t need just because you thought we wouldn’t be here anymore. Eat someone’s face because you thought you were a zombie. *rawr*

This year I’m hoping for a better year. I’m hoping for the best year of my life. Then next year I hope to have an even better year. I’m hoping that each year that passes just keeps getting better. Starting with this year of course. What do I hope happens? Just like every year I hope to get into shape. Mostly because I have the risk of dying young in my face. What do I mean? My great-grandmother died in her 60’s. My grandmother was in her 50’s. My mother was 40. I don’t have great odds. But I know that I can beat that if I lose weight. That’s common sense.

I hope to finish ‘Frost’. At least through the first stage of it. I haven’t reread any chapter yet. I get irritated at it and never finish. I have done that all my life. Right now, as I’ve said, I’m at Chapter 5 & I have been writing since the last week of November ’12. So keeping hope alive I hope to be done by July and then have the final draft by December. Possibly then will I be able to have it published. If not – at least then I can say that I have finally finished a full story. Start to finish. That is an accomplishment for myself since I’ve never done it. (I realized that the other night. I have never finished a story from start to finish & it bummed me to the core. I realize though, that I’m young and I have learning to do when it comes to writing. As I get older my writing will become better. But I also know that when it comes to publishing, an editor does a lot to ‘help’ the story a long. I don’t want to rely on that, though. I’d like someone to read my writing & say ‘oh it’s good the way it sits.’)

What kind of writer do I want to be? I want to have at least one person in my life tell me ‘your book touched me in ways a story never has’. I’ve said that before about books. Because it was true. I have read books in my life that still, to this day, awe me in ways I didn’t thinking writing could. No, Frost I can tell you now, will not be that story. One day though. Or one of the writers that someone reads the work of and turns it into a movie/television show because it was just that good.

So… know people who want to follow someone on their blog that rarely blogs because they don’t have internet at home & their phone is not good enough for blogging. Send them my way. Fine me on twitter – follow me there. I need a following… I guess I don’t ‘need’ a following. I’d like one. Trust me. I’m hilarious. I feel like I’m pimping myself out. @HightowerBarb I’d put my Facebook on here but I use that for family/friends & I’d never accept anything. I might have to make one for my blog or something. We’ll see.