WORLDS THAT NEVER WERE

I originally posted this one year ago, and am reposting it today for my mom.

Today I’d like to thank you, Mom, for the things you did that helped me become the person that I am. You married my father when you were still in high school. You and dad lived in a small one-room cabin when I was a baby. You took me there several years ago. I was startled to see how small it was. What it must have been like for you in that small room with a baby, I can only imagine. Yet, I’ve never heard you complain. You talk about that time almost with yearning. It must have been a happy time for you and Dad.

I have some of my happiest memories of later, when we lived in a small singlewide trailer until I was five. I remember falling asleep in my bunk bed listening to you doing the dishes and singing or talking with Dad. I felt safe and warm and wanted to live in that trailer forever. You never complained when you hauled our clothes to the ringer washer in the trailer court and then hung them on the line. I remember playing under the clothes strung from one end of the trailer to the other, the smell of laundry soap heavy in the air. As a young child I thought it was fun running through those clothes, not able to walk from one end of the trailer to the other. I never asked you how you managed to raise five kids living so simply. I’m so proud to call you my mom.

Mom, you had a huge influence on my success. Here are a few things that you did that helped make it possible for me to pursue my dreams.

• Because you were so young and cooped up with my sisters and I, you played games with us. When I was very young, we played, “I’m thinking of something green.” We begged you to play “the color game” and others, endlessly. Later it was cards, yahtzee, and even Barbies. I still love games because of you.
• Mom, you made the time to read us stories. You hauled us to the library every week, where I checked out as many books as I could carry. Because of you, I still love reading today. You will find me at my happiest with my nose in a thriller.
• You played the piano and sang and encouraged all five of us to play an instrument. You forced us to practice, which we hated. Although none of us pursued it, the experience taught us persistence and a good work ethic.
• You made our clothes, for all five of us. You also made all of the clothes for my dolls and Barbies. You taught me to sew, which is a skill that I found so valuable later in life.
• Mom, you instilled a work ethic in me that has brought much of my success. I would not have been a good teacher without that skill. The attention to detail and drive for success that helps me now as a science education researcher I owe to you.
• You are not afraid to stand up for yourself. That one example has probably helped me more than anything else. I’ve watched you march up to a receptionist or make a phone call where you were relentless in getting what you needed, either for your husband, your children, or yourself. You are an inspiration to me.
• Mom, you show me that you love and care for me every time that I talk to you. I treasure our walks together and our long talks.

So thanks, Mom! You have helped me by your example and your caring. I love you.

This post is a warning for anyone with a Web site. I received a deceptive notice yesterday from Domain Registry of America (DRoA). See image below. It made me so angry that I had to write this post about DRoA. The notice came by snail mail in an envelope with my correct name and address–which really ticked me off–and included a return envelope for payment. The notice looks like a bill and was written to scare me into changing my domain name registry: “You must renew your domain name to retain exclusive rights to it on the Web, and now is the time to transfer and renew your name from your current Registrar to the Domain Registry of America. Failure to renew your domain name by the expiration date may result in a loss of your online identify…”

I went to the Web site given in the letter: http://www.droa.com to find that the company offers “free” Web hosting for the lifetime of your domain. Free indeed! You can register your domain for only $30 for a year, with the rate adjusted to save if you sign up for three to five years. It is a scam. A scam that 50,000 Canadians fell prey to in 2003.

I learned from The Register that following an investigation by The Federal Trade commission, Domain Registry of America based in Ontario, Canada, was prohibited from making misrepresentations in the marketing of its domain name registration. Well DRoA is up to its old tricks and they obviously have my address.

There is no need for me to renew my domain name, and certainly not with DRoA. I have a Geocities Web site hosted by Yahoo. I pay a small monthly fee, but you can build a Web site for free through Yahoo with no need to pay for registering the domain name. Other sites offer similar free sites. I have no intention of switching. But this trick probably works quite well with people who have no clue how the Domain Name System (DNS) works.

DRoA have been fooling people since at least 2002, as the Domain Registry of America, of Canada, of Europe and of Australia. They’ve also used the names Yellowbusiness.ca, Internet Registry of Canada, Domain Registry Services, and Registration Services Incorporated. There is even a site dedicated to “inform internet users of the continuing saga of ‘Registration Services Incoporated’”.

According to the site this company first started sending out fake domain renewal letters to domain holders, using information illegally harvested from various WHOIS databases (mainly the Tucows OpenSRS database) in 2002.
The DRoA Web site lists contact addresses for them in North America, England, and Australia.

Today is the one-year anniversary of my mother-in-law’s passing, so in her honor, I’m reposting March.

Sometimes, life has a way of reminding you that there’s nothing more important than being with the ones you love. I want to offer my sympathy to everyone who’s had a loved one pass away suddenly. And I want to thank friends and family who comforted my husband Harry and I. When your world is turned upside down in a minute, it is hard get beyond the emptiness to find a way even to grieve.

It’s been a long, hard week. I was too emotionally drained to work, even today, although I sat at my computer and pretended that I was able, while my mind drifted to the events of the past week. If I’m in a state of emotional overload that has left me exhausted, I can only imagine the grief that my husband is feeling.

Harry’s mother, Beulah M. “Snooks” Calhoun, passed away Monday morning, March 19, 2007, from a cerebral vascular accident, a stroke.

I met Harry’s father for the first time as we walked across the hospital parking lot late Saturday afternoon and then met Beulah Calhoun where she lay in a hospital bed, an oxygen tube in her nose. She opened her eyes and looked at my husband, made noises, but nothing that resembled words. She didn’t recognize her son. It is the worst thing I’ve ever witnessed, or ever hope to.

Days followed: funeral arrangements, the viewing, financial matters and family dinners. Each day ran into the next and ended with Harry and I falling into bed exhausted and numb. When we came home on Saturday, although we had been gone for not even a week, it felt like an eternity.

I noticed on the drive home from the airport that in our absence winter had departed. After the cold and rain in Connellsville, Pa, the sights and sounds of spring in North Carolina were a welcome sight. Tulips had broken ground, pushing through the hardy daffodils. Pink and red azaleas now dotted the hedges, seemingly overnight. The oaks hung heavy with seedpods and cottony dogwood flowers rained pink and white petals, joining maple seed airplanes on the recently cut grass. The sight of gold finches fighting for seed at the bird feeder made me cry. We were home.

Beulah’s loved ones describe her as being most happy out of doors, so I think it fitting to end this entry with “March,” written by Hal Borland. Although I never knew her in life, the narrative seems to fit the mother of my husband. So, in memory of Beulah Calhoun, whose funeral was held on the first day of spring, and for her son:

March is a tomboy with tousled hair, a mischievous smile, mud on her shoes and a laugh in her voice. She knows when the first shadbush will blow, where the first violet will bloom, and she isn’t afraid of a salamander. She has whims and winning ways. She’s exasperating, lovable, a terror-on-wheels, too young to be reasoned with, too old to be spanked.

March is rain drenching as June and cold as January. It is mud and slush and the first green grass down along the brook. March gave its name, and not without reason, to the mad hare. March is the vernal equinox when, by the calculations of the stargazers, Spring arrives. Sometimes the equinox is cold and impersonal as a mathematical table, and sometimes it is warm and lively and spangled with crocuses. The equinox is fixed and immutable, but Spring is a movable feast that is spread only when sun and wind and all the elements of weather contrive to smile at the same time.

March is pussy willows. March is hepatica in bloom, and often it is arbutus. Sometimes it is anemones and bloodroot blossoms and even brave daffodils. March is a sleet storm pelting out of the north the day after you find the first violet bud. March is boys playing marbles and girls playing jacks and hopscotch. March once was sulphur and molasses; it still is dandelion greens and rock cress.

March is the gardener impatient to garden; it is the winter-weary sun seeker impatient for a case of Spring fever. March is February with a smile and April with a sniffle. March is a problem child with a twinkle in its eye.

Hal Borland: Sundial of the Seasons, 1964

The title of this post is the subject line of an e-mail I received yesterday. I thought it was a spammer offering me money if I’d only provide my banking information, so I almost deleted it. I am happy that I didn’t. My speculative fiction story “To Live Again“,won $100 and first place in Write Around the Block’s January short story contest. I have never won a contest in my life. I am thrilled.

“To Live Again“, holds a special place in my heart. It is the first story that I wrote back in 2002–a dog story with a twist. Second, as I previously posted, it was the first of my stories to appear in a print publication, so it became one of my milestones. I think that seeing that story on the printed page will always be my greatest thrill.

Those of you who know me will realize that “To Live Again” is loosely based on my life. The woman in the story who learns to take charge of her life through her dog is me. I drew on my own experience in an abusive marriage to create Allison’s character, who is too frightened to get out of bed and turn on a light at night. And during the day, she is too scared to leave her house. Then she adopts Vanquisher, a scrappy pit bull terrier mix facing euthanasia.

And so the story was born. I modeled Vanquisher after my dog Buddy, who I am sad to say, most likely came to the same fate as Vanquisher did in the story. Heavy sigh–if he hadn’t, there would be no story.

When I learned that Write Around the Block accepts previously published stories, I revised the story–the first version rambled a bit and had some other issues–and submitted it to the contest. I am thrilled that it won.

I will never consider “”To Live Again”” to be my best story, but writing it helped me learn the art of writing fiction. It will probably always be my favorite, especially because Harry and I recently adopted a black lab. Alex is sweet and mischievous and as beautiful as Buddy was ugly–like Sam in the story. He is intelligent and makes us laugh every day, especially when he squeaks his little plastic bone and does tricks for food. I love him, but he can’t completely fill the void in my heart left by Buddy.

Here’s to strays, shelter dogs and rescued dogs who continue to rescue their saviors.

As part of my New Year’s resolutions to finish every story that I start, I’ve just finished Good Game, a story about a man visited by his dead father, although I think the dog steals the show—see below. For you chess players, the story is centered in the world of chess, hence the title. For anyone who doesn’t play chess, you won’t hear players wish each other “Good luck.” That would be considered bad chess etiquette. Since chess is a game of skill, most players would be offended if you wished them luck. The term used before a game and also coinciding with the handshake at the end is “Good game.”

Finally, I’m getting to the point of this blog: when does gender matter? I play chess, but I am unusual in that–I am a woman. Very few women play chess. In fact, when I taught chess both as an elective chess class and an after school chess club for middle school students, almost all of my students were boys. I had one girl only one semester in the chess elective class. I had a couple of other girls start the class and then drop it after a few days. Chess is simply a boy’s sport. Therefore, the audience for Good Game will likely be men.

Here was my dilemma. The main character in the story was a woman who plays chess. I wondered, would men read 2,900 words about a woman? Could they relate to her? And would women want to read a story about a chess player? I wanted to keep her, but I rewrote the story from a male point of view. Did I cave or was I being smart? The male perspective changed the story completely. Men react and show emotion differently than women. A man won’t cry so easily, for example. Since the story is written in first person, it is now a different story than the first draft. But, like my dog trainer says about our dog, “He is what he is.”

As a side note about dogs, in researching the role of the dog in Good Game I ran across the Carolina Canines Web site. Service dogs trained through Carolina Canines for Service, Inc. are able to perform the following tasks for their partners:

• Retrieving dropped/distant objects
• Pulling wheelchairs and loading wheelchairs into vehicles
• Opening doors
• Carrying items/packages
• Rising to high counters
• Physical support for mobility and transfers to/from wheelchairs
• Physical assistance to recover from a fall
• Dressing or undressing
• Assisting with household tasks such as bed making and laundry

Now, we’ve got to quit working with Alex on his aggression issues–as a result of his history before being rescued–and start training him to do household chores. I’ll let you know when he starts making the bed and doing laundry.

I was not surprised to learn that the extensive training required for each service dog takes 18-24 months in basic training and 6-12 months in advanced training. These dogs are provided free of charge from Carolina Canines to people with disabilities including: cerebral palsy, multiple sclerosis, stroke, spinal cord injury and seizure disorders. This is a savings of $2,000 - $12,000 for the disabled. What a worthy endeavor. Some people do have a two to three year wait for a service dog, though.

As far as my progress on my young adult NIP, I have reached a standstill. I’m still trying to decide whether to include Pocahontas and, as a result, have lost momentum. I’ll get back to it, though. I always do. Meanwhile, I’m trying to set realistic goals and then focus on one goal at a time. My goal for today is to revise Remission, a story I wrote earlier this year, and submit it to the Doris Betts Fiction Prize. Deadline is February 1. Wish me luck.

The “from across the hall” category will feature posts from and about my husband Harry Calhoun, who writes a monthly wine column, Ten Dollar Tastings.

Hello wine lovers!

The latest column (December/January) is now online — a special one, because this marks my first anniversary with Ten Dollar Tastings!

While 2007 was a hard year in many ways, I certainly have my share of blessings. They start with Trina and extend to good health, good friends and our “son” Alex the Labrador. As you’ll see in the column, Trina has snagged a little bit of celebrity and I’m revisiting my past career as a small-press poet and fiction writer.

This month features my top ten affordable wines for the year. Is a red wine or a white the top choice? Those of you who know my tastes may be surprised. There’s also the red wine I pick each month for Charlie Hart and my featured wines, from Redwood Creek.

As always, I hope you enjoy Ten Dollar Tastings.

Harry Calhoun

E-mail: HarryC13@aol.com
Web site: http://wine.newsonly.org/news.php

I’d like to close 2007 with part of JA Konrath’s New Year’s Resolutions Part 3:

I will refuse to get discouraged, because I know JA Konrath wrote 9 novels, received almost 500 rejections, and penned over 1 million words before he sold a thing–and I’m a lot more talented than that guy … Read entire post.

I especially like the last. It gives me hope.

Have a wonderful holiday and I’ll be blogging again in the New Year.

I am breaking my temporary blogging silence for one exciting post.

Raleigh Area Women Writers (RAWW) will be on television! This is a thrilling first for me.

I am happy to share that three members of my writing group, (including me of course), were interviewed for the Raleigh Television Network about the process and workings of creating and maintaining a writing group. The interview will air on “The Artist’s Craft” segment the first and second weeks in January, on Sunday at 8:30, and on Tuesday and Thursday of both weeks. For those of you local to Raleigh, that is channel 10.

Or, you can watch the interview now on YouTube in 3 parts:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

When Stacey Cochran first e-mailed me to see if I was interested in being interviewed, I was both flattered and apprehensive. See my post from October. I wondered if anyone would really want to watch a half-hour segment of me talking, so I suggested he interview the members of RAWW and he liked the idea. After watching the interview, I think anyone interested in starting a writing group or writing fiction may actually learn something about the writing process.

I have been making good progress on my YA novel in progress, High Treason. The daily journal has helped me focus. I think I may just finish by year end.

As therapy for my father’s recent passing, I allowed myself to take a break from HT to write a short story this week titled Good Game, about a man who is visited by his dead father every morning. I had planned the story to be titled, Into the third and fourth generations, about the personality disorders inherited by a young girl in a psychiatric hospital. But once I started writing, the young woman turned out to be the sister of the main character. I think it may shape up into a nice piece once I have time to polish it.

I blogged that I will finish my young adult novel in progress, High Treason, by December 31st, 2007. Argh. That was before the month of November hit me hard — scroll through the posts here in the “life coming at me fast” category to learn more. I will make an honest effort to get ‘er done, as they say in here in North Carolina. Wish me well as I travel back in time to the colonial world of spying, espionage, and rebellion this holiday season.

This said, I’m cutting myself off from blogging temporarily, until Jan 1st or when I finish High Treason, whichever comes first, heavy sigh. I estimate I have about 40 hours of editing to go (based on the amount of time I’ve spent on each chapter so far). It is increasingly difficult to get myself started editing High Treason. I find myself doing anything else: reading my e-mail, surfing writing discussion boards, blogging (like I’m doing now), creating new short stories, revising stories based on my critique group’s edits, and looking for markets for my stories.

So, I’m making a hard editing schedule for myself based on Greg Martin’s writing workshop focused on revision. He suggests that students should keep a daily journal of their writing schedule and goals as follows.

Each day you make seven entries:
1. The date and the time
2. How long you plan to work.
3. What you plan to work on for this day.
4. Time when you stop writing and total amount of time writing.
5. Answer the questions: What did you actually end up doing? How well did it go?
6. What you plan to work on tomorrow
7. When you plan to work tomorrow and for how long.

Rules:
• You can’t take three days off in a row.
• If you take two days off in a row, you ought to feel bad, not just about your habits and your lack of discipline, but about yourself as a person.
• You must log 18 hours of writing time a week. This is an average of 3 hours a day six days a week. (You can write more.) Take a day off each week, if you must, but I don’t recommend it. Why would you?.

Hmm — day job, Christmas preparations, husband, dog, friends, family, shopping for food, washing clothes.

You’re supposed to love it. You’ll love it more, the more you do it. Wynton Marsalis didn’t take a day off practicing the trumpet for two years. That’s why he’s Wynton Marsalis.
• Unplug the phone. (Turn off cell, if you feel you must have one of those)
• No email.
• No diary-type notes. Nothing about your cat’s urinary tract infection.

So, I have 22 days. If I write 3 hours a day, the math totals to 66 hours of writing. I could finish even if I take a day or two off. I’m going to give ‘er the old college try. Wish me luck.