Category: Life and Other Bits

Banned Books Week

The stories we tell ourselves help us understand ourselves and each other. To take away those stories is to deny the truth of who we are as a society. It’s a damaging philosophy of silencing the voices and denying people the right to speak their truth. But the truth is the truth, whether or not you see it reflected in art—and anyone’s attempt to hide goes against what the forefathers saw as a very necessary piece of a democracy.

Banned Books Week underscores the importance of the Freedom of Expression and the Freedom to Read.

Most of us have read a banned or challenged book. Here are a few of the ones I’ve read—

Think back to the books you’ve read that have been banned. What did you experience when you read them? Did reading them make you a worse citizen? None of these did that to me. What I got out of them was entertainment, explanations to social questions, and warnings about what happens when our freedoms are taken away, as in 1984, and what a book ban can lead to, as in Fahrenheit 451.

I do have to wonder why Adolph Hitler’s Mein Kampf is overlooked by the folks who want to ban books in the name of protecting society. It seems to me that one should be at the top of anyone’s list of books that are bad for society. So, who is making up these lists? People who desire to control your thoughts and what information you can receive, that’s who. And, that’s always bad for society.

The Freedom of Expression and the right to read is protected under the very first amendment of the U.S. Constitution. I’ve written about why our forefathers decided it was the most important part of the foundation of “a government by the people and for the people” in an article I wrote for Chanticleer Book Reviews. You can read it by clicking on the button—

Banned Books Week
An illustration promoting the celebration of banned books, featuring a silhouette of a person raising a fist atop a stack of books against a backdrop of the American flag.

Road Trip Travel Tips for Families

One of my first freelance writing jobs was writing travel posts for websites. With Spring Break and Summer trips coming up, I thought I’d share a post I wrote to help families keep the fun happening throughout their time on the move. I hope you enjoy it!

Tips for a Smooth Sailing Family Adventure


Don’t Forget These Travel Tips When Packing For Your Kids

We’re hitting the road for a long trip across half the United States, but with eighteen hundred miles of open road ahead of us and a three-year-old in the car seat behind me, how are we going to keep our sanity over the course of seven days. Here are some tips I’ve picked up to keep your children from turning your family truckster into a roaming mental hospital.

Road Trip1

1)  Plan your trip so that your sight-seeing stops are spread out at regular intervals.

2)  Have games of all sorts that require little or no actual pieces. A few games that have always worked in my family are I Spy, Twenty Questions, Where’s the Alphabet, The License Plate Game, and memory games like ”I went on a picnic and I brought ____.” Our family loves to put in an adventuresome sounding CD and play the pretend game of “Going on Safari”, where we “see” elephants, giraffes, zebras, and gazelles in the things we pass.

3)  Eat in the car and play at the picnic areas and rest stops you find along the way by active games like catch or exploring. By doing this they’ll get their energy out and have another activity in the car to keep them busy. And don’t forget to stretch as often as possible.

4)  Buy a kid’s camera and create a scrapbook along the way so your child can keep his/her memories and gain the skill of   a photographer.

Road trip3

5)  I have mixed feelings about this one–Bring an iPad loaded with your child’s favorite movies

or TV shows but save it for times when there is no other way to keep boredom from becoming meltdowns. The point of being on a road trip is enjoying the landscape around you, so make sure they have time to idly stare out the windows, too.

6)  Pack healthy snacks in easily accessible, single-serve bags so whenever they want to eat they’ll be faced with only healthy options.

7)  Make sure sight-seeing stops are interesting to your kids so conversation before and after will be engaging and kill time in the car.

Road Trip

8)  Along with a box of crayons and paper, bring other craft projects that won’t be messy.Origami or crocheting are both great activities that will require no tools and create no mess and their projects can be given as gifts to people you’ll see along the way.

9)  Keep the phone charged so the kids can call grandma and grandpa and tell them where they’re at and what they are doing.

10) Books, books, and more books. Take your kids to the library prior to the trip and let them pick out some favorites and some new books to try. Maybe something about the things you’ll see along the way or maybe the history of the places you’ll visit.

Have a great time and make great memories with your kids on your next trip!

Mom’s Music

Music often will trigger memories that are connected to the song you’re listening to. It connects across all borders, including the gulf that separates us from the ones we love and lost.

I’m listening to classical music right now.

I listen to all kinds of music while I’m writing, often picking particular styles that set the mood for whatever I’m working on at the time. I don’t know why I picked classical today but it just so happens the first piece to come up features a pianist.

As I’m trying to concentrate there is a thing deep inside me that makes itself known. Not a voice, although it certainly speaks to me. Not even a feeling, really. Just a knowing…

It’s my mother.

My mom passed away almost ten years ago and for those who knew her personally I’m sure it comes as no surprise that the sound of a piano instantly brings her back to life in my mind. Music was a big part of her life. As was I. If only two things could be said about my mom they would be, above all else, she loved her kids and she loved music.

Thank you, Mom.

Now that I’m writing I can understand why she felt so connected to her music. Just like putting pen to paper is for me, playing music transferred her to a different world…heart and soul. When she heard the notes rolling gently along, building then receding, they spoke to her in a language only she could understand. It is the most intimate thing in the world. It was her poetry.

The image of her at the piano keeps popping up in my head. Her back is to me, her hands fanned out across the keys. They move with the grace of someone who is part of the music…not the clumsy, clunking poking at them like I do. She felt each and every note she played.

In a way, I see her music in my writing. The ebb and flow of the story, the pace and tone…it’s there. The way a sentence reads, letting it lead to the next thing. The images. For me, I must feel what my characters are feeling. I have to experience their emotions myself in order to express them in my writing. Sometimes that’s a bit scary…like right now.

I see her finishing now…just as I’m about to. She lifts her fingers from the keys gently, letting the music fade off into nothingness…

Just as she does…

My Indiana Jones Moment

On a trip to an ancient city, I had a memorable experience with a rickshaw driver. Exciting, yes. Annoying, yes, too.

Press play, then come back to read the article: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-bTpp8PQSog 

A true story, 1996  

Black market street vendors lined the sidewalk all the way out to the main road. They were agressive, thrusting armloads of cheaply made goods out in front of me as I passed by. Trinkets, souvenirs, flowers… I’d just about made it out to the street when something useful caught my eye.

A black leather whip.

“Whip?” the vendor asked hopefully, as he removed it from his arm. “Very good leather. Made from bull,” he added, “I show you.” With a downward thrust of his arm, a loop wound through the long coil, ending with a loud crack as it snapped back on itself. He smiled at me. “You try now,” he held it out to me and as soon as I wrapped my hand around the handle my inner Indiana Jones sprang to life. I had to have this whip!

I handed over my rupees, stuffed the whip into my backpack, and turned towards the street where several rickshaw drivers were calling to me. I went to the nearest one and looked the rickshaw and its driver over with a wary eye. “Very comfortable! Very comfortable, ” he assured me. I doubted this was the case as I looked over his rusted three-wheeled motorized rickshaw, but no matter, I was just going back to the hotel. The driver took a look at the address printed on my hotel’s business card and assured me he could get me there, so we settle on the fare and I jumped into the backseat.

With a sputter of the engine, the rickshaw took off.  We rounded the corner and fought our way through the narrow streets of the ancient city, braking for other rickshaws, pedistrians, and the variety of livestock that veered into our path. Gas, brake, gas brake; my body lurched forward and back, pitching left and right as the rickshaw bumped over the pitted streets. It was taking much longer than it should have and I began to sense a tenseness in my driver.

He doesn’t know where he’s going, I realized. Digging into the side pocket of my backpack, I brought out my hotel’s business card again and offered it to him but he waved it away. So, I sat back and watched as the streets continued to pass by. Finally, after turning away from the main road and driving us onto a more deserted and darker street I ventured to ask, “Hotel?”

“Yes,” he answered, with another dismissive wave.

“I don’t think so,” I point to a busier street a few blocks away, “Take me back to the main road over there.” I didn’t know where I was or where my hotel was and it was quite obvious this driver didn’t know either.

“I take you to hotel,” he said with authority.

“No, you take me to that road now.”

He turned in his seat, taking his eyes off the the road ahead without easing up on the gas. “You sit. I drive!” he ordered.

“No! You stop this rickshaw, right now!” I was becoming more and more angry with each exchange.

“You be quiet, woman.”

Well, that was it. I knew who I was dealing with.

I slid to the edge of my seat as he slowed to take a corner. Sticking my foot out of the rickshaw, I caught the ground and sprang from the back seat and landed safely on the dirt road. As I turned to walk away I heard his brakes squealing and felt a spray of rocks pelt the backs of my legs. “You come here! Pay me!” yelled the driver as he came running up behind me.

I had already goetten a few steps ahead of him and knew this would be my best chance to protect myself, so I reached into my backpack and pulled out the whip.

His curses grew louder behind me until he was almost close enough to grab me. With a spin on my heels, I turned to face him. His fist raised in anger “You pay me!” he yelled.

Raising my arm high in the air, I drove the handle of the whip forcefully down towards the ground. The leather rope rippled in a high arc, snapping as it curled around its end with a resounding CRACK!

Surprise stopped the driver in his tracks. A stunned look passed through his dark eyes before turning into a new level of rage. “You listen to me, woman!” he yelled into my face.

Anger flooded my own face as I shook the whip’s handle at him. “No! You listen to me! I am not paying you, and you are not taking me anywhere, so turn around and leave. Now!”  I backed away, keeping my whip out in front of me, ready and waiting for him to retaliate.

“You pay me,” the driver called out once more as the distance between us grew. He shook his fist in the air, but he did not move. “You pay me…” His voice trailed off defeated.

I kept walking and made it to the main street where I hired another driver. Anger had overridden fear, but I was tense. After making it back to the hotel I headed to the bar for a shot of whiskey.

Because that’s what Indie would do.

A Personal Account of Russia’s Drastic Social and Political Change in 1993

I visited Russia during the 1993 Constitutional Crisis. This is what I experienced.

This is a blog post I wrote years ago on another website. It is a partial account of what I experienced during my stay in Russia in 1993 during a tumultuous time of change-one of many.

Last Stop: Russia

It’d been three hours since we crossed Russia’s northwestern border–hours spent deep inside the West Siberian taiga forest. The constant chug, chug, chugging of the engine had lulled me into a semi-hypnotic state, leaving me numb to the sensations of the train’s forward movement.

Down the tracks, a small town emerged from the shadows of the trees. It was the first village we’d come to since crossing the border, so we’d be disembarking and registering at the customs office. Our passports would be checked and stamped, maybe our picture would be taken, maybe a few questions would be asked. “Just a formality,” our guide assured us.

With a bump and a jerk, our car came to a complete stop beside the station’s platform. Deathly cold outside, snowflakes hung suspended in the thin air, insulating and isolating people from one another. Solemn faces obscured by frosty clouds of breath stared out from under layers of heavy clothing. On the ground, remnants of footprints were carved into the snow, ghostly evidence of travelers who’d passed through this lonely depot before me. A line formed  in front of the customs office and I dutifully found my place at its end. As I shuffled along I noticed an English language newspaper lying on a bench. Its headline read:

September 28, 1993: Bloody Clashes Ignite Between Special Police and Anti-Yeltsin Demonstrators. Interior Ministry Seals Off Parliament Building, Erecting Barricades.*

Once again, Russia had found itself swept up in drastic social and political change, and tensions were at a breaking point. During the past week, control of the government had shifted several times between the old Soviet guard and the new Russian Federation, with each side pushing the boundaries of their offices in an attempt to take control.

On September 21, one week prior to my arrival, President Boris Yeltsin had declared the governing body, the Supreme Soviet, dissolved, and announced a constitutional referendum and plans for new legislative elections. The next day, deputies from the Congress of People convened to impeach Yeltsin and two days later Yeltsin countered with a June 1994 date for Russia’s second presidential elections. Following this move Congress announced a March 1994 date for simultaneous parliamentary and presidential elections, preceding Yeltsin’s date by three months.

That’s when the fight turned deadly.

Members of Congress barricaded themselves inside the Parliament Building, prompting Yeltsin to cut off their electricity, hot water and telephone service, and send in the military. Demonstrators on both sides fought in the streets and four days later, September 28, the day I read the headline, marked the first day of casualties. Three days after that, on the first of October, the Interior Ministry estimated that six hundred armed men had joined in with the opposition and reports claimed dozens of people had been killed and hundreds wounded. This development initiated an attempt at negotiations that went on for two days without any outcome.

During this time, top opposition leaders approached the military brass to ask for their support. They realized that without the backing of the armed forces, their cause would be lost. A solid plan, one would think, but, as has often been the case in Russian history, they overlooked the lower rank and file and soon found themselves without the support of the masses. The generals, deciding they couldn’t afford to take a chance on the shaky leadership of the pro-Soviet groups, sided with Yeltsin. He quickly implemented his military offensive, lining up ten tanks in front of the building and firing at the top floors in an effort to force the rebels into a smaller space on the lower levels.

This show of force intensified the situation, and on October 3, Moscow police failed to control a demonstration near the House of the Government of the Russian Federation, commonly referred to as “the White House.” It soon developed into armed conflict. Opponents of Yeltsin successfully stormed the police cordon around the White House, and by noon the next day, elite forces entered the building, occupying it floor-by-floor. Within hours, the popular resistance in the streets had been completely suppressed, except for occasional sniper fire. It was the deadliest street fighting in Moscow since the October Revolution in 1917, when the Russian Empire fell to the Bolsheviks, and the country officially became the Soviet Union. Reports put the “Second October Revolution’s” death toll at only 437 wounded, but some sources claim up to 2,000 had died.

We were in Moscow for five days, and on one particularly cold night, my friends and I took the subway over to the White House. We walked up and down the sidewalk behind those tanks as they sat poised and ready to fire at the occupied state building. It was quiet that night, and in the distance, closer to the building, we could hear Russian voices rising in protest, this time calling for the death of communism.

I had many wonderful experiences during my stay in Russia: visiting ancient cathedrals and beautiful palaces, attending world-renowned ballet performances, but the most fascinating aspect of my trip was being witness to Russian history repeating itself. As I stood in the lonely depot and read the newspaper’s headline I wondered if the stamp I’d receive on my passport would represent the same country two weeks later when I left Russia.

*The headline I use here represents actual headlines of the day.

Video news coverage of the event: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PkPfUnwyFsI

Welcome to My World of Writing Spaces

I have found that occasionally switching between several different writing spaces provides me with distinct advantages that helps keep me on the track to better writing.

Why An Effective Writing Space Is Essential To A Productive Writer

For writers, an effective writing space is more than just a physical area—it’s a critical component of the creative process which can ultimately dictate the writer’s level of productivity. It can significantly impact your output, focus, and overall well-being. Personally, I have found that occasionally switching between several different writing spaces provides me with distinct advantages that helps keep me on the track to better writing.

Where Do You Find Inspiration?

For inspiration I go to a local coffee shop with a great view of the bay. The friendly vibe, smell of great coffee, and the background noise of soft music, clattering cups, and pleasant conversation is a relaxing environment to set my imagination free as I look out across the bay to the San Juan Islands.

Having the Space to Do Your Research

When I’m doing research I like to sit at a desk or table so it’s easier to take notes and look through books. That can be at my home, at a coffee shop or restaurant, a library, or anywhere else where I find ample space to spread out my notebook, computer, and anything else I need.

The Physical Aspects of Writing

Editing is a labor intensive job for writers and that’s why I often find myself in a comfortable chair at home. It’s where I focus best as the hour hand spins around the clock and I am suggested to my endless inner questioning of grammar and my story.

Finding Your Own Best Writing Space

Creating a writing space that works for you requires a personal examination of how you write, when you write, and what type of environment is best for the tasks you are undertaking that day. The best way to start imagining your ideal space is to consider the following:

  1. Fosters Focus and Concentration: An effective writing space is designed to minimize distractions and interruptions. By having a dedicated area that signals to your brain it’s time to write, you can achieve deeper concentration and maintain a flow state. This focused environment helps you immerse yourself in your work, leading to higher-quality writing.
  2. Enhances Productivity: A well-organized and comfortable writing space can significantly boost productivity. When your tools and materials are within easy reach and your workspace is ergonomically designed, you spend less time searching for items and more time writing. This streamlined setup helps you work more efficiently and meet deadlines with greater ease.
  3. Promotes Creativity: Personalizing your writing space with items that inspire you—such as artwork, books, or plants—can stimulate creativity. A space that reflects your personality and interests creates a conducive atmosphere for brainstorming and creative thinking, making it easier to generate new ideas.
  1. Reduces Stress and Discomfort: Comfort is key to maintaining a productive writing routine. An uncomfortable chair or poorly arranged desk can lead to physical strain and mental frustration. Investing in ergonomic furniture and creating a pleasant environment helps reduce stress and physical discomfort, allowing you to focus on your writing rather than on your aches and pains.
  2. Builds a Writing Routine: Establishing designated writing spaces helps build a strong writing routine. When you consistently use the same spaces for writing, it becomes a habit and a mental cue that it’s time to get to work. This routine can enhance your discipline and make writing a more seamless part of your daily life.
  3. Encourages a Professional Mindset: Treating your writing space as a professional environment fosters a serious attitude toward your craft. It signals to yourself and others that writing is a significant and respected activity, not just a casual hobby. This mindset can help you approach your work with greater dedication and respect.

A well-planned writing space is essential for writers seeking to enhance their focus, productivity, creativity, and overall writing experience. By investing time and effort into creating an effective environment, you set yourself up for success and make your writing process more enjoyable and efficient.

You can find more tips on how to set up your writing space in an article I wrote for work. Just click here!

Persistence or Being Stubborn: The story behind the logo

I’ve often been accused of being stubborn. That may be true, but I choose to call it persistence.

I can’t deny this accusation. There are plenty of instances in my life where persistence has been the basis of my actions. But that same persistence has also taken me to many amazing places and led to many incredible experiences. And it’s that same persistence that prompted me to chose the image of a girl on a tricycle as the logo of my newsletter, Chasing the Dream. 

Way back when, at the tender age of four or five, I pursued my preschool dream of riding my tricycle in the town’s annual parade. This was not something someone my age was typically allowed to do, but I was determined. I dressed my trusty steed up with streamers and I pedaled the entire half-mile route alongside the big kids on bicycles, sandwiched between the classic cars and the tractors.

People said I couldn’t do it. They said I was too little, and the parade route was too long to ride on a trike. My own mother ran alongside me on the sidewalk, taking pictures and waiting for a sign that I was ready to stop and she could carry my trike back to the house. (She was an exceptionally good and patient mother!)

But I was not deterred! I pedaled that entire parade route and my legs were almost too sore to walk the next day–but I did it! It was an early example of the same persistence that kept me writing until I finished The Byzantine Cross, and it’s the same persistence that has carried me through to publishing. 

That’s why I chose the image of “A Girl on a Tricycle” as the logo for my newsletter. I’m “Chasing the Dream” relentlessly and eventually I will find my way!!

Below are the pictures my mom took of me on my first “ride or die” experience.