Second weekend in December, we took the Amtrak train down to Florida for the holidays in coach style. It was the auto train and the first time we tried it. I must say it was a very pleasant experience as compared to driving all the way down. We relaxed in the comfortable seats, and were able to read, nap, and walk around with no problem at all.
The staff were pleasant, the meal in the dining car was plentiful and aesthetically appealing (chicken, rice, vegetable plus cheesecake and coffee). The restrooms were easily accessible and everyone around us was quiet (except for an older man up ahead who snored through the night!).
The only glitch to this trip was in the middle of the night, when the train stopped suddenly somewhere in South Carolina. I woke up, smelling rubber burning and looked out the window into the pitch black night. I immediately sensed something was not right when we saw the red flashing of police cars. I asked one of the staff what had happened and they said that someone's car was on the track and the train tried stopping in time. It was a very sobering moment for all of us, for we heard that there were other people in the car with this person and they tried to get him out, but he stayed in it. He did it on purpose. I prayed very hard for that person's soul. One can not and should not solve life's problems, which tend to be temporary, with permanent solutions like death. It just doesn't work that way. It is a very selfish solution - for each person has many loved ones in their circle, and when they choose to leave, just think about the anguish, guilt, and terrible sadness that they leave behind. How inconsiderate and foolish!
God gave us a brain, to solve and cope with life's problems. It took several days for me to get over that dreadful, negative feeling this event evoked in me.
Once in Florida, I sensed a refreshing feeling. We drove to the Tampa Bay area to visit family under cloudy weather but the next day it was fair. I immediately noticed how nice the weather was after that. It tended to be in the 70s, sunny and breezy. Also, the days were longer than up north. Instead of the sun setting around 5 pm, it was setting closer to 6:00 pm! So longer days and more sunshine were very much appreciated.
We visited the Greek church in Tarpon Springs the day before Christmas. St. Nicholas is nestled in the heart of Tarpon Springs and is quite a beautiful and spiritual experience being inside this church. I felt protected and very much at peace while the liturgy took place. The incense in the air, the chanter droning in the background, and the steady movements of the priest's robed body lulled me into a meditative state of being. In front of us stood a little old lady in the pew. She looked pious and wore a little scarf. Suddenly I heard the ringing of a cell phone and to my surprise, she reached down into her purse, gave an exclamation, and turned it off. Even little, old Greek ladies have cell phones these days! I smiled at the scene.
Our Christmas was enjoyable as we spent it with family and friends. Remember, it is the spirit of Christ's birth that sustains our faith and not how many gifts we give or receive. The greatest gift of all is Christ himself.
May you have a blessed and safe New Year 2012! Chronia Polla kai Eutichismenos o Kainourios Chronos!!
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Monday, November 21, 2011
Berkeley Springs Book Festival
Morgan Arts Council in Berkeley Springs, WV is hosting its first annual Book Festival on November 26, 2011 at the Ice House (10am-4pm).
I plan to be there to booksign my four books. Also, I will probably read a couple of my poems during the open mic session (3-4pm).
Here is more information about the book festival:
http://www.berkeleysprings.com/bookfest.html
I plan to be there to booksign my four books. Also, I will probably read a couple of my poems during the open mic session (3-4pm).
Here is more information about the book festival:
http://www.berkeleysprings.com/bookfest.html
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Excerpt from The Lion and the Nurse
THE LION AND THE NURSE
by Patty Apostolides
CHAPTER 1
April 1979
Truth exists, yet often times we don’t see it. Elusive, like a deer in hiding, it waits, revealing itself only when the beholder stands still, ready to accept it unconditionally. Such a moment of truth exposed itself on this spring afternoon to Cassiani, but was she ready for it?
Cassiani stepped out on to the sunlit balcony carrying a bucket of dirty soap water in one hand and a wet mop in the other. Her mind was miles away at the University Hospital in Cleveland, Ohio, where she worked the past five months as a registered nurse. Today she would have been taking blood pressure readings at seven o’clock in the morning or popping thermometers into patients’ mouths. Or she would have been reading charts and administering medications. Instead, she was here on the Greek Island of Kos, mopping Mrs. Lukas’ upstairs apartment.
A week ago, when she and her sister received the telephone call from the doctor at Kos Hospital telling them that her mother experienced a heart attack, it had come as a shock. Athena couldn’t come because she was pregnant with her second child, so it was decided that Cassiani would come. Cassiani rushed to get here, dropping everything she was doing with no other thought but to nurse her mother. When she arrived three days ago, little did she know that today she’d be cleaning and mopping Mrs. Lukas’ house.
Cassiani lifted the bucket and poured the soapy water over the side of the balcony, watching the water disappear down the slope of the lime-green hill below. Further observation revealed flecks of color among the hill; clusters of white cyclamen, bunches of daisies, and bright red poppies that swayed with each caress of the wind. She took a deep breath, enjoying the fresh mountain air.
“This would be a good place to rest,” she said aloud. Two wooden chairs and a small square table sat on the balcony. She sank into one chair, plopping her slender legs up on the other chair, enjoying the sun-drenched panoramic view of Kos Island below. She could see far on this clear day; the whitewashed houses scattered here and there, the sandy beach of Tigaki with its salt lake, and in the horizon, the small island of Pserimos.
Her gaze settled to her left, beyond the row of Cypress trees that marked the property’s boundary, on the winding road leading to the house. She remembered the walk she had with her mother years ago down that very same road. It was dusty and half the width; suited more for pedestrians and donkeys than for cars. This morning her mother said, “You’ll find the road paved now, so don’t miss the way. It was done two years ago when Mrs. Lukas bought a new Mercedes.”
Cassiani glimpsed the dark shade of a lonely automobile driving up the road, but lost track of it just as quickly; probably her imagination at work. Mrs. Lukas was napping downstairs and wasn’t expecting anyone. She yawned, rubbing her eyes, enjoying the feel of the warm sun on her face. Her eyes fluttered shut as she fell into a light sleep.
Thud.
Cassiani jumped up from her chair, knocking it over, her heart beating wildly. She anxiously peered through the balcony’s glass door into the darkness of the apartment. Could it be that Mrs. Lukas had walked up the stairs looking for her and had slipped on the newly mopped floor? Then she caught sight of the man. His movements were slow and cautious, as if he had sensed another presence…her presence. “A burglar,” she whispered. She quickly made the sign of the cross. “Dear Lord, have mercy on me.”
He was lean and dressed in dark clothes, and was heading purposefully towards her.
* * *
“What are you doing here?” Leo demanded. Just as he was about to reach the balcony he slipped on the wet floor and landed on his back.
At that very same moment Cassiani sprinted past him, then slid on the wet floor, her arms flailing about her until she regained her momentum. In her haste to leave, she blindly ran into the luggage lined up at the door. She lost her balance and grabbed the doorframe managing to keep from falling. She shakily pulled the two large suitcases upright. Were these the cause of the sound she heard from the balcony? She glanced at the nametag. “Dr. Leonidas Regas,” she whispered. Why did the name sound familiar? Her eyes flew open. “Oh, no!”
The burglar was none other than the much-awaited nephew of Soula Lukas. How could it be? He was supposed to arrive tomorrow. Ashamed at her behavior, Cassiani turned around and stared at the fallen man. She inched her way towards him, careful not to slip on the wet floor. Although his eyes were shut, to her relief she could make out the faint movement of his chest rising and falling rhythmically. Yes, he was alive…and undeniably handsome. His tanned face was lean, with a strong chin and a prominent, straight nose. She bent down, ready to check his head for bumps when his eyes fluttered open, staring upwards to gaze at the ceiling.
She caught her breath when his eyes settled on her. Magnificently large in size, their golden hazel color, speckled with emerald and saffron, glowed like a cat’s eyes…no…more like a lion’s eyes…as if there was a fire brewing inside them. It was unnerving, the intent way he studied her.
“Ouch,” he said, touching the back of his head. Apparently satisfied with the result, he raised himself in a sitting position. He studied her once more.
She could feel the warm rush of his breath against her face. Suddenly aware of how physically close he was to her, Cassiani moved back, trembling. A minute ago she was nursing a vulnerable, weak patient. As soon as he spoke, as soon as he was a man again and not a patient, society’s norms, her Christian principles, and her parents’ sound upbringing joined forces, sending warning signals up her spine. You’re alone in this apartment with a man.
“Don’t worry, I won’t bite.” His teasing voice was low and husky. She smiled. He smiled back. “What were you doing here?”
“I, I…was.” she said, very conscious of his stare. For some odd reason, she couldn’t speak. Instead, she stood up and pointed towards the balcony where she had left the bucket and mop. She made the motion of mopping.
In one swift movement he was up on his feet, his agile body moving cautiously to the balcony. “You were mopping the apartment,” he finished her sentence. “That explains the wet floor.”
Cassiani was about to introduce herself when she heard a faint call coming from downstairs. She turned her head to hear better. “It’s Mrs. Lukas. She is calling.” She ran towards the door, knocking the luggage over.
“Wait!” Leo shouted.
Cassiani flew down the steps. This time there was no turning back. She sprinted through the large kitchen with the peppermint tea scent, across the narrow hallway with its paintings, and into the bedroom. She found Soula Lukas sitting upright in her bed, propped up by several large pillows. The pink satin robe covering her thin frame, meant for a much younger woman, captured the eye first before settling on her olive-skinned, wrinkled face. Her fluffy white hair circled her head like a misplaced halo.
Maybe it was the way her brown eyes, clouded and unfocused, looked up at Cassiani, or the dazed look on her face, as if she had just seen a ghost; whatever it was, something had caused her to call out.
Cassiani leaned over and touched her shoulder. “Mrs. Lukas, is everything all right?” she asked, feeling breathless. “I heard you calling.”
“What? Oh, yes,” Soula muttered. Her hand fluttered over her eyes. “I had a dream…yes…a dream. That Leo was here.”
“Actually, Leo did—” Cassiani began, then stopped when she saw Leo.
In a few strides Leo reached his aunt’s bed. “Aunt Soula!” he said. He bent down and kissed his aunt tenderly on the forehead then eased his body on the edge of the bed
Soula’s voice trembled with joy. She gripped his hand as if she were testing the reality of his presence. “So you weren’t really a dream after all! I thought I saw you in a dream…that you had come.”
Captivated by this new development into Mrs. Lukas’ world, Cassiani watched with surprise, witnessing the caring look on Leo’s face and the gentle way he touched his aunt’s arm. There was sensitivity in that gesture, one that conveyed a soul that had experienced love and knew how to show it and this spoke louder than words to Cassiani’s fine-tuned heart. She was mesmerized.
The tender way in which Mrs. Lukas gazed back into her nephew’s eyes revealed no coldness or hardness that Cassiani had glimpsed in the past, but a startling show of affection…resembling the love of a mother towards her child.
“I stopped by earlier, but you were asleep.”
“Ahh, so that was what happened!” Soula said, touching Leo’s face fondly. “Weren’t you supposed to come tomorrow?” She scrunched her face, thinking. “What is today…Thursday or Friday?”
Leo playfully patted her on the hand. “We had arranged for me to come today, Thursday.”
“Oh, my,” Soula replied, appearing apologetic. “For some reason I thought it was tomorrow. You know…I’m becoming rather forgetful.”
Cassiani quietly removed herself, not wanting to interfere with the reunion. As a nurse, she had learned not to pry into people’s affairs. She paused at the door and looked at them. “I must be going,” she said.
Leo stood up. “I’m sorry if I frightened you. I wasn’t expecting to find anyone upstairs in the apartment.”
I wasn’t expecting anyone either. “That’s all right. I’m the one that should be apologizing,” Cassiani replied.
“What happened?” Soula asked Leo, her eyes narrowing.
“I slipped on the floor she had mopped and – ”
“Did you hurt yourself?” Soula interjected, looking concerned.
“I’m fine,” Leo chuckled, gingerly touching the back of his head. “Not even a small bump for a souvenir.”
“I have to go now,” Cassiani said, feeling awkward under Mrs. Lukas’ scrutiny. “My mother hasn’t been feeling well. I need to be with her.”
“Ah, yes. Say hello to her for me,” Soula said, her face softening. “Oh…and don’t forget to take the payment for cleaning the upstairs apartment. The money is on the kitchen table.” She signaled towards the kitchen.
Cassiani blushed at the patronizing manner in which Mrs. Lukas had just spoken. I helped because I wanted to, not because of any payment. Instead of replying, she fled from the room.
* * *
Leo watched with amusement at Cassiani’s flustered exit. His mind had been preoccupied all day with business deals and his aunt’s health. Cassiani’s brief entrance into his life had been a refreshingly beautiful diversion. I wonder whether I’ll see her again. I wonder where she lives. “Who is she?”
“She’s the daughter of my hired companion, Vera Meletis. Vera had a heart attack recently. I needed help, so she sent her in her place.” Soula motioned to Leo. “Come, take my arm so I can get up.”
Leo held on to his aunt as she arose out of bed. “I didn’t see her car outside. Does she need a ride—”
“Don’t go thinking too much about her,” Soula interjected.
“What makes you think that?” Leo asked, shrugging his shoulders.
“Oh, an old woman’s intuition,” was his aunt’s tart reply.
* * *
Available on www.Amazon.com
by Patty Apostolides
CHAPTER 1
April 1979
Truth exists, yet often times we don’t see it. Elusive, like a deer in hiding, it waits, revealing itself only when the beholder stands still, ready to accept it unconditionally. Such a moment of truth exposed itself on this spring afternoon to Cassiani, but was she ready for it?
Cassiani stepped out on to the sunlit balcony carrying a bucket of dirty soap water in one hand and a wet mop in the other. Her mind was miles away at the University Hospital in Cleveland, Ohio, where she worked the past five months as a registered nurse. Today she would have been taking blood pressure readings at seven o’clock in the morning or popping thermometers into patients’ mouths. Or she would have been reading charts and administering medications. Instead, she was here on the Greek Island of Kos, mopping Mrs. Lukas’ upstairs apartment.
A week ago, when she and her sister received the telephone call from the doctor at Kos Hospital telling them that her mother experienced a heart attack, it had come as a shock. Athena couldn’t come because she was pregnant with her second child, so it was decided that Cassiani would come. Cassiani rushed to get here, dropping everything she was doing with no other thought but to nurse her mother. When she arrived three days ago, little did she know that today she’d be cleaning and mopping Mrs. Lukas’ house.
Cassiani lifted the bucket and poured the soapy water over the side of the balcony, watching the water disappear down the slope of the lime-green hill below. Further observation revealed flecks of color among the hill; clusters of white cyclamen, bunches of daisies, and bright red poppies that swayed with each caress of the wind. She took a deep breath, enjoying the fresh mountain air.
“This would be a good place to rest,” she said aloud. Two wooden chairs and a small square table sat on the balcony. She sank into one chair, plopping her slender legs up on the other chair, enjoying the sun-drenched panoramic view of Kos Island below. She could see far on this clear day; the whitewashed houses scattered here and there, the sandy beach of Tigaki with its salt lake, and in the horizon, the small island of Pserimos.
Her gaze settled to her left, beyond the row of Cypress trees that marked the property’s boundary, on the winding road leading to the house. She remembered the walk she had with her mother years ago down that very same road. It was dusty and half the width; suited more for pedestrians and donkeys than for cars. This morning her mother said, “You’ll find the road paved now, so don’t miss the way. It was done two years ago when Mrs. Lukas bought a new Mercedes.”
Cassiani glimpsed the dark shade of a lonely automobile driving up the road, but lost track of it just as quickly; probably her imagination at work. Mrs. Lukas was napping downstairs and wasn’t expecting anyone. She yawned, rubbing her eyes, enjoying the feel of the warm sun on her face. Her eyes fluttered shut as she fell into a light sleep.
Thud.
Cassiani jumped up from her chair, knocking it over, her heart beating wildly. She anxiously peered through the balcony’s glass door into the darkness of the apartment. Could it be that Mrs. Lukas had walked up the stairs looking for her and had slipped on the newly mopped floor? Then she caught sight of the man. His movements were slow and cautious, as if he had sensed another presence…her presence. “A burglar,” she whispered. She quickly made the sign of the cross. “Dear Lord, have mercy on me.”
He was lean and dressed in dark clothes, and was heading purposefully towards her.
* * *
“What are you doing here?” Leo demanded. Just as he was about to reach the balcony he slipped on the wet floor and landed on his back.
At that very same moment Cassiani sprinted past him, then slid on the wet floor, her arms flailing about her until she regained her momentum. In her haste to leave, she blindly ran into the luggage lined up at the door. She lost her balance and grabbed the doorframe managing to keep from falling. She shakily pulled the two large suitcases upright. Were these the cause of the sound she heard from the balcony? She glanced at the nametag. “Dr. Leonidas Regas,” she whispered. Why did the name sound familiar? Her eyes flew open. “Oh, no!”
The burglar was none other than the much-awaited nephew of Soula Lukas. How could it be? He was supposed to arrive tomorrow. Ashamed at her behavior, Cassiani turned around and stared at the fallen man. She inched her way towards him, careful not to slip on the wet floor. Although his eyes were shut, to her relief she could make out the faint movement of his chest rising and falling rhythmically. Yes, he was alive…and undeniably handsome. His tanned face was lean, with a strong chin and a prominent, straight nose. She bent down, ready to check his head for bumps when his eyes fluttered open, staring upwards to gaze at the ceiling.
She caught her breath when his eyes settled on her. Magnificently large in size, their golden hazel color, speckled with emerald and saffron, glowed like a cat’s eyes…no…more like a lion’s eyes…as if there was a fire brewing inside them. It was unnerving, the intent way he studied her.
“Ouch,” he said, touching the back of his head. Apparently satisfied with the result, he raised himself in a sitting position. He studied her once more.
She could feel the warm rush of his breath against her face. Suddenly aware of how physically close he was to her, Cassiani moved back, trembling. A minute ago she was nursing a vulnerable, weak patient. As soon as he spoke, as soon as he was a man again and not a patient, society’s norms, her Christian principles, and her parents’ sound upbringing joined forces, sending warning signals up her spine. You’re alone in this apartment with a man.
“Don’t worry, I won’t bite.” His teasing voice was low and husky. She smiled. He smiled back. “What were you doing here?”
“I, I…was.” she said, very conscious of his stare. For some odd reason, she couldn’t speak. Instead, she stood up and pointed towards the balcony where she had left the bucket and mop. She made the motion of mopping.
In one swift movement he was up on his feet, his agile body moving cautiously to the balcony. “You were mopping the apartment,” he finished her sentence. “That explains the wet floor.”
Cassiani was about to introduce herself when she heard a faint call coming from downstairs. She turned her head to hear better. “It’s Mrs. Lukas. She is calling.” She ran towards the door, knocking the luggage over.
“Wait!” Leo shouted.
Cassiani flew down the steps. This time there was no turning back. She sprinted through the large kitchen with the peppermint tea scent, across the narrow hallway with its paintings, and into the bedroom. She found Soula Lukas sitting upright in her bed, propped up by several large pillows. The pink satin robe covering her thin frame, meant for a much younger woman, captured the eye first before settling on her olive-skinned, wrinkled face. Her fluffy white hair circled her head like a misplaced halo.
Maybe it was the way her brown eyes, clouded and unfocused, looked up at Cassiani, or the dazed look on her face, as if she had just seen a ghost; whatever it was, something had caused her to call out.
Cassiani leaned over and touched her shoulder. “Mrs. Lukas, is everything all right?” she asked, feeling breathless. “I heard you calling.”
“What? Oh, yes,” Soula muttered. Her hand fluttered over her eyes. “I had a dream…yes…a dream. That Leo was here.”
“Actually, Leo did—” Cassiani began, then stopped when she saw Leo.
In a few strides Leo reached his aunt’s bed. “Aunt Soula!” he said. He bent down and kissed his aunt tenderly on the forehead then eased his body on the edge of the bed
Soula’s voice trembled with joy. She gripped his hand as if she were testing the reality of his presence. “So you weren’t really a dream after all! I thought I saw you in a dream…that you had come.”
Captivated by this new development into Mrs. Lukas’ world, Cassiani watched with surprise, witnessing the caring look on Leo’s face and the gentle way he touched his aunt’s arm. There was sensitivity in that gesture, one that conveyed a soul that had experienced love and knew how to show it and this spoke louder than words to Cassiani’s fine-tuned heart. She was mesmerized.
The tender way in which Mrs. Lukas gazed back into her nephew’s eyes revealed no coldness or hardness that Cassiani had glimpsed in the past, but a startling show of affection…resembling the love of a mother towards her child.
“I stopped by earlier, but you were asleep.”
“Ahh, so that was what happened!” Soula said, touching Leo’s face fondly. “Weren’t you supposed to come tomorrow?” She scrunched her face, thinking. “What is today…Thursday or Friday?”
Leo playfully patted her on the hand. “We had arranged for me to come today, Thursday.”
“Oh, my,” Soula replied, appearing apologetic. “For some reason I thought it was tomorrow. You know…I’m becoming rather forgetful.”
Cassiani quietly removed herself, not wanting to interfere with the reunion. As a nurse, she had learned not to pry into people’s affairs. She paused at the door and looked at them. “I must be going,” she said.
Leo stood up. “I’m sorry if I frightened you. I wasn’t expecting to find anyone upstairs in the apartment.”
I wasn’t expecting anyone either. “That’s all right. I’m the one that should be apologizing,” Cassiani replied.
“What happened?” Soula asked Leo, her eyes narrowing.
“I slipped on the floor she had mopped and – ”
“Did you hurt yourself?” Soula interjected, looking concerned.
“I’m fine,” Leo chuckled, gingerly touching the back of his head. “Not even a small bump for a souvenir.”
“I have to go now,” Cassiani said, feeling awkward under Mrs. Lukas’ scrutiny. “My mother hasn’t been feeling well. I need to be with her.”
“Ah, yes. Say hello to her for me,” Soula said, her face softening. “Oh…and don’t forget to take the payment for cleaning the upstairs apartment. The money is on the kitchen table.” She signaled towards the kitchen.
Cassiani blushed at the patronizing manner in which Mrs. Lukas had just spoken. I helped because I wanted to, not because of any payment. Instead of replying, she fled from the room.
* * *
Leo watched with amusement at Cassiani’s flustered exit. His mind had been preoccupied all day with business deals and his aunt’s health. Cassiani’s brief entrance into his life had been a refreshingly beautiful diversion. I wonder whether I’ll see her again. I wonder where she lives. “Who is she?”
“She’s the daughter of my hired companion, Vera Meletis. Vera had a heart attack recently. I needed help, so she sent her in her place.” Soula motioned to Leo. “Come, take my arm so I can get up.”
Leo held on to his aunt as she arose out of bed. “I didn’t see her car outside. Does she need a ride—”
“Don’t go thinking too much about her,” Soula interjected.
“What makes you think that?” Leo asked, shrugging his shoulders.
“Oh, an old woman’s intuition,” was his aunt’s tart reply.
* * *
Available on www.Amazon.com
Sunday, November 06, 2011
Goodness of Heart
Today is Sunday, and we read the Bible. I particularly like reading the Proverbs section, and of course, passages from the New Testament. Sometimes we bring in other reading that is spiritual.
Today, we read a portion from a book by St. Therese of Lisiuex, France. She had written an autobiography before she passed away in her twenties. It showed her simple, pure thinking and how she prayed for all the souls so they wouldn't go to purgatory. She was very inspiring.
If we could all see the goodness in each other and forgive one another, knowing that we all are God's children, wouldn't this be a better, safer place to live?
Today, we read a portion from a book by St. Therese of Lisiuex, France. She had written an autobiography before she passed away in her twenties. It showed her simple, pure thinking and how she prayed for all the souls so they wouldn't go to purgatory. She was very inspiring.
If we could all see the goodness in each other and forgive one another, knowing that we all are God's children, wouldn't this be a better, safer place to live?
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Tips for Novice Authors
Tips for Novice Authors
If you are reading this article then you probably have asked yourself at some point in your life, "Do I have what it takes to become an author?"
I believe that successful authors, those who actually write and finish that novel, or book of poetry, or even that book of short stories, and see it all the way to publication, have certain characteristics.
Characteristics of Authors
1. They like to sit for hours in front of a computer screen (or with pen and paper), typing (writing) away.
2. They think about their book, even when they're not writing.
3. They are motivated to finish their book.
4. They are motivated to proofread, edit and revise their finished book until it is the best it can be.
5. They are motivated to publish their book.
6. Once they publish the first book, they are already working on the next one.
If you answered yes to anyone of the above, then you have a good chance of attaining your dreams of becoming an author. Don't listen to those people who say it's a competitive market out there. Don't listen to those people who say they've written five books and haven't had one published yet. And don't listen to those people who send you back your manuscripts! Listen to yourself. Listen to that inner voice, the one that is whispering now. But wait until you get started. Once your book is written and published, that inner voice will be roaring! And the whole world will hear about it.
I know, I know. I tend to be the optimist. But we have so many pessimists in the book business, we sure need some more optimists around!
For you, the novice writer who would like to start writing that first book, the best way to begin is to start writing. Yes, just sit down and do it. Stop the other activities, the television, the reading, the shopping, the chatting on the telephone, and find the time to devote at least one hour a day to writing.
What's one hour a day in the scheme of things? It comes and goes like this, poof! What do you have to show after an hour of television? A lazy yawn? If that same hour were spent on writing, then there would be a product in your hands, something that will be shared, hopefully, one day with others.
So, go ahead, shut the door to the rest of the world for one hour (or more) and make yourself comfortable in front of the computer screen (or pen and paper). Let's take the first step to becoming an author.
How To Begin
Foundation
Just like a construction company which builds a foundation to a home, you also need to prepare a foundation for your career in writing. Don't skip this step, it's important.
Your "foundation" will consist of basic writing skills. Remember those English courses you took in high school and college? If you don't remember anything from those courses, then it wouldn't be a bad idea if you found your old English textbooks, dusted them off a bit, and looked through their pages to refresh your memory.
If you haven't taken any courses in creative writing, you might consider signing up for one. Check with your local community college. They often offer weekend and evening classes, and sometimes even online classes. If you're on a budget, then visit the public library and sign out books relevant to writing.
In addition, it would be very useful to join a writing group (online or in your local area) that critiques your work and gives you the opportunity to critique also. The group provides wonderful support and an avenue to sharpen your skills as you gain experience in writing, as well as exposure to other people's writing. For example, Writing.com is a good example of an online resource that provides many opportunities to share your writing, and get your work rated and reviewed. If you want to join a critique or review group, it offers that also.
The second step to becoming an author, is to have the right tools.
Tools Needed
Besides a comfortable chair, plenty of lighting, and a quiet room, you will need a computer with a word processing program (e.g., Microsoft Word), a printer, and plenty of paper.
Why a computer? First of all, publishers typically will request a copy of your files sent to them on a floppy disk. More importantly, working with a word processing program will aid you in many ways towards becoming a published author. It will provide the opportunity to save your work as a Word file, without having to use up tons of paper (as with a typewriter). This greatly aids you in keeping your work organized. It also gives you the flexibility to edit and re-edit large sections of your work quickly by allowing you to utilize the copy and paste functions.
Other advantages of using a computer word processing program is that it provides spell check capabilities, and also helps you count the number of words per page. In addition, when you want to spice up your vocabulary (For example, if you like to use the word "walk" often, and are getting tired of that word), place your cursor on the word "walk", hit shift F7. It will give you a list of synonyms you can choose from - like stroll, amble, etc.).
The time saved by using a computer is very valuable. It gives you more time available to write! Of course, if you don't have the above materials, don't let that stop you from writing that book! Using a pen and paper is perfectly fine. Books were written with these two basic tools for centuries.
Let's assume you are using a computer and a Word processing software. First of all, before you begin writing, form a subdirectory that you can add all your chapters to. Maybe you know the title of your book already. Fine, then form a subdirectory using the name of the title. After you finish writing that first chapter (oh joy!), just save it as Chapter 1 under the subdirectory. If you are writing a book of poetry, then you might want to save each poem as a separate file.
When I write my chapters for my novel, I format them in double space mode, with a Times New Roman 11 font. All the margins are at least one inch. This way it will be ready for manuscript submission.
Try not to add your page numbers until the very last revision. Page numbers constantly change when you're revising, so wait until the end.
Finally, another reason for having a computer is for Internet access. As a writer, you will have opportunities to submit your fiction online, such as http://www.Writing.com, or even your articles online for e-zines, such as http://www.articlecity.com. Any chance you can get to write online, do it. As long as it doesn't take too much time away from your book. It's also a free way of promoting yourself before the book is even published.
So you need to balance your time in writing that book, honing your writing skills, submitting your work along the way for others to critique, and promoting yourself. Can you do it? Of course you can!
The third step to becoming an author is:
What to Write
If you are planning to write a novel, it would help to know what general category your book is going to be in. Will it be in the romance, mystery, or science fiction category? If you don't know, take some time and think about it. Read some books in those genres. Which books seem to attract you the most? It's highly likely that you'll be writing in the category that you like to read. My preference is romance because I read those types of books the most. Once you decide the category, then you are closer to writing that novel!
For poetry, you might start by writing a poem and submitting it to a poetry journal, or a poetry contest. Gain exposure for your poetry. Join a critique group so you can sharpen your poetry skills. A chapbook usually consists of about 25-35 poems. For a poetry book, you'll need at least 60 pages of poetry, if not more.
Types of Novelists
I have found over time, that there are two types of novelists. The first type is the writer who prefers drawing up a proposal or plan of what they will write about. The second type prefers to write whatever comes into their mind at that moment.
You decide which writer you will be.
Type 1 Novelist
They begin by describing the characters, their names, personalities, and sometimes their motives. Then they decide when and where the setting will take place. When will it take place? If it takes place before the 1900's, then it will be considered historical. Also, will the setting be in the country, in a city (which city?), in a house (whose house), on a cruise ship? That needs to be defined also.
Once those decisions are made, they write brief sketches of each chapter. It could be a page or two long. Once all this is done, then the real writing begins. If this method works for you, then feel free to use it. It may take some time, but you will become more confident about what you'll write once you go through this initial process.
Type 2 Novelist
What if you're the type of person who doesn't want to spend all that time writing proposals and character sketches? What if you're like me, who prefers to just write whatever comes into your head? Then do it! Sit down and start writing. Write anything.
As the story develops, something wonderful begins brewing in your mind. Something called creativity. I've caught myself hours after I finished writing a chapter, and I'll be preparing dinner, or walking somewhere, and a scene from my novel will begin to unfold. It's called creative problem solving. My mind is working to solve the problem that the writing presents it, even though I'm not actively writing. When I get those urges, I immediately stop what I'm doing and jot down my thoughts. It's helped me many times, particularly when everything clicks together.
How Long Will It Take?
It took me almost two years to write and find a publisher for my first novel, Lipsi's Daughter. For other people, it may take longer or shorter, depending on the amount of time they allow for writing and how many pages they are writing. I know of authors that took six, seven, up to twelve years to write their first book. I also know of a famous author who writes two novels a year!
So unless you begin writing that first page of your book, you'll never know how long it'll take you to write it. Go ahead, make that first step, and good luck!
This Article is available also on EzineArticles.com: http://EzineArticles.com/31617
If you are reading this article then you probably have asked yourself at some point in your life, "Do I have what it takes to become an author?"
I believe that successful authors, those who actually write and finish that novel, or book of poetry, or even that book of short stories, and see it all the way to publication, have certain characteristics.
Characteristics of Authors
1. They like to sit for hours in front of a computer screen (or with pen and paper), typing (writing) away.
2. They think about their book, even when they're not writing.
3. They are motivated to finish their book.
4. They are motivated to proofread, edit and revise their finished book until it is the best it can be.
5. They are motivated to publish their book.
6. Once they publish the first book, they are already working on the next one.
If you answered yes to anyone of the above, then you have a good chance of attaining your dreams of becoming an author. Don't listen to those people who say it's a competitive market out there. Don't listen to those people who say they've written five books and haven't had one published yet. And don't listen to those people who send you back your manuscripts! Listen to yourself. Listen to that inner voice, the one that is whispering now. But wait until you get started. Once your book is written and published, that inner voice will be roaring! And the whole world will hear about it.
I know, I know. I tend to be the optimist. But we have so many pessimists in the book business, we sure need some more optimists around!
For you, the novice writer who would like to start writing that first book, the best way to begin is to start writing. Yes, just sit down and do it. Stop the other activities, the television, the reading, the shopping, the chatting on the telephone, and find the time to devote at least one hour a day to writing.
What's one hour a day in the scheme of things? It comes and goes like this, poof! What do you have to show after an hour of television? A lazy yawn? If that same hour were spent on writing, then there would be a product in your hands, something that will be shared, hopefully, one day with others.
So, go ahead, shut the door to the rest of the world for one hour (or more) and make yourself comfortable in front of the computer screen (or pen and paper). Let's take the first step to becoming an author.
How To Begin
Foundation
Just like a construction company which builds a foundation to a home, you also need to prepare a foundation for your career in writing. Don't skip this step, it's important.
Your "foundation" will consist of basic writing skills. Remember those English courses you took in high school and college? If you don't remember anything from those courses, then it wouldn't be a bad idea if you found your old English textbooks, dusted them off a bit, and looked through their pages to refresh your memory.
If you haven't taken any courses in creative writing, you might consider signing up for one. Check with your local community college. They often offer weekend and evening classes, and sometimes even online classes. If you're on a budget, then visit the public library and sign out books relevant to writing.
In addition, it would be very useful to join a writing group (online or in your local area) that critiques your work and gives you the opportunity to critique also. The group provides wonderful support and an avenue to sharpen your skills as you gain experience in writing, as well as exposure to other people's writing. For example, Writing.com is a good example of an online resource that provides many opportunities to share your writing, and get your work rated and reviewed. If you want to join a critique or review group, it offers that also.
The second step to becoming an author, is to have the right tools.
Tools Needed
Besides a comfortable chair, plenty of lighting, and a quiet room, you will need a computer with a word processing program (e.g., Microsoft Word), a printer, and plenty of paper.
Why a computer? First of all, publishers typically will request a copy of your files sent to them on a floppy disk. More importantly, working with a word processing program will aid you in many ways towards becoming a published author. It will provide the opportunity to save your work as a Word file, without having to use up tons of paper (as with a typewriter). This greatly aids you in keeping your work organized. It also gives you the flexibility to edit and re-edit large sections of your work quickly by allowing you to utilize the copy and paste functions.
Other advantages of using a computer word processing program is that it provides spell check capabilities, and also helps you count the number of words per page. In addition, when you want to spice up your vocabulary (For example, if you like to use the word "walk" often, and are getting tired of that word), place your cursor on the word "walk", hit shift F7. It will give you a list of synonyms you can choose from - like stroll, amble, etc.).
The time saved by using a computer is very valuable. It gives you more time available to write! Of course, if you don't have the above materials, don't let that stop you from writing that book! Using a pen and paper is perfectly fine. Books were written with these two basic tools for centuries.
Let's assume you are using a computer and a Word processing software. First of all, before you begin writing, form a subdirectory that you can add all your chapters to. Maybe you know the title of your book already. Fine, then form a subdirectory using the name of the title. After you finish writing that first chapter (oh joy!), just save it as Chapter 1 under the subdirectory. If you are writing a book of poetry, then you might want to save each poem as a separate file.
When I write my chapters for my novel, I format them in double space mode, with a Times New Roman 11 font. All the margins are at least one inch. This way it will be ready for manuscript submission.
Try not to add your page numbers until the very last revision. Page numbers constantly change when you're revising, so wait until the end.
Finally, another reason for having a computer is for Internet access. As a writer, you will have opportunities to submit your fiction online, such as http://www.Writing.com, or even your articles online for e-zines, such as http://www.articlecity.com. Any chance you can get to write online, do it. As long as it doesn't take too much time away from your book. It's also a free way of promoting yourself before the book is even published.
So you need to balance your time in writing that book, honing your writing skills, submitting your work along the way for others to critique, and promoting yourself. Can you do it? Of course you can!
The third step to becoming an author is:
What to Write
If you are planning to write a novel, it would help to know what general category your book is going to be in. Will it be in the romance, mystery, or science fiction category? If you don't know, take some time and think about it. Read some books in those genres. Which books seem to attract you the most? It's highly likely that you'll be writing in the category that you like to read. My preference is romance because I read those types of books the most. Once you decide the category, then you are closer to writing that novel!
For poetry, you might start by writing a poem and submitting it to a poetry journal, or a poetry contest. Gain exposure for your poetry. Join a critique group so you can sharpen your poetry skills. A chapbook usually consists of about 25-35 poems. For a poetry book, you'll need at least 60 pages of poetry, if not more.
Types of Novelists
I have found over time, that there are two types of novelists. The first type is the writer who prefers drawing up a proposal or plan of what they will write about. The second type prefers to write whatever comes into their mind at that moment.
You decide which writer you will be.
Type 1 Novelist
They begin by describing the characters, their names, personalities, and sometimes their motives. Then they decide when and where the setting will take place. When will it take place? If it takes place before the 1900's, then it will be considered historical. Also, will the setting be in the country, in a city (which city?), in a house (whose house), on a cruise ship? That needs to be defined also.
Once those decisions are made, they write brief sketches of each chapter. It could be a page or two long. Once all this is done, then the real writing begins. If this method works for you, then feel free to use it. It may take some time, but you will become more confident about what you'll write once you go through this initial process.
Type 2 Novelist
What if you're the type of person who doesn't want to spend all that time writing proposals and character sketches? What if you're like me, who prefers to just write whatever comes into your head? Then do it! Sit down and start writing. Write anything.
As the story develops, something wonderful begins brewing in your mind. Something called creativity. I've caught myself hours after I finished writing a chapter, and I'll be preparing dinner, or walking somewhere, and a scene from my novel will begin to unfold. It's called creative problem solving. My mind is working to solve the problem that the writing presents it, even though I'm not actively writing. When I get those urges, I immediately stop what I'm doing and jot down my thoughts. It's helped me many times, particularly when everything clicks together.
How Long Will It Take?
It took me almost two years to write and find a publisher for my first novel, Lipsi's Daughter. For other people, it may take longer or shorter, depending on the amount of time they allow for writing and how many pages they are writing. I know of authors that took six, seven, up to twelve years to write their first book. I also know of a famous author who writes two novels a year!
So unless you begin writing that first page of your book, you'll never know how long it'll take you to write it. Go ahead, make that first step, and good luck!
This Article is available also on EzineArticles.com: http://EzineArticles.com/31617
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Plagiarizing is a key offense
A couple of months ago, my husband Anthony and I published an article on cancer in the prestigious Townsend Letter titled "The U.S. Cancer Program and Specific Types of Cancer, 1975-2007: A Failure, Part 1, Aug/Sep 2011 issue (www.townsendletter.com). More recently, Part 2 of the article was published in the October 2011 issue, and Part 3 will be published in the November 2011 issue.
The article is about the US Cancer Program (1975-2007) and assesses specific types of cancers. It is written in 3 parts. We are the first researchers to have assessed the program's success or failure in the prevention or treatment of cancer using very specific criteria.
Unfortunately, while doing a search on the topic, we recently came across an article that looked almost identical to our article, but was written by a "Dr. Robert O. Young" on his blog. He used exactly the same words as we did, particularly with the criteria used in assessing the program, word for word, but instead of giving us the credit for our work, he begins his article with "I have assessed the U.S. Cancer Program for prevention and treatment.."
I left a comment on his blog and have not heard anything from him. This is blatant plagiarism and the publisher of Townsend Letter has been notified.
The article is about the US Cancer Program (1975-2007) and assesses specific types of cancers. It is written in 3 parts. We are the first researchers to have assessed the program's success or failure in the prevention or treatment of cancer using very specific criteria.
Unfortunately, while doing a search on the topic, we recently came across an article that looked almost identical to our article, but was written by a "Dr. Robert O. Young" on his blog. He used exactly the same words as we did, particularly with the criteria used in assessing the program, word for word, but instead of giving us the credit for our work, he begins his article with "I have assessed the U.S. Cancer Program for prevention and treatment.."
I left a comment on his blog and have not heard anything from him. This is blatant plagiarism and the publisher of Townsend Letter has been notified.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Ending Aging
Hello again,
Yesterday we attended a talk hosted by the World Future Society at the Community College of Baltimore in Essex, MD given by Dr. Aubrey de Grey. He is a Cambridge graduate and the author of the 2007 book "Ending Aging." He was an hour late and he only spoke a half hour, but it was an interesting talk, never-the-less.
I learned about him after picking up his book a few months ago and
found what he wrote to be very interesting. He is the director of a foundation called SENS (www.sens.org).
Dr. Aubrey de Grey is optimistic that with the help of technology we will be able to live longer. Although he stressed in his talk that his focus is not only about longevity, but more importantly, about improving our health. For some reason, he doesn't believe that supplements, etc. add to our longevity, yet he does believe in preventative medicine.
In his talk, Dr. de Grey used the description of a car, which is a machine, and as it ages, is maintained and repaired and therefore can live well beyond its intended life span (in his example - 50 years). He believes that we can do the same thing to the human body - treat it like a machine. Each time we extend our lives, then that buys us time for newer technology to add more life.
Just the act of living causes oxidation in our bodies, so that is an inherent part of our lives. Damage to the body caused by oxidation accumulates over time, and instead of focusing our efforts on what causes this damage, we should repair the damage.
I asked the question: "There are assumptions in your theory, that the patient will get to the doctor on time, that the doctor is well trained in this new technology, and that the insurance companies will pay for these services." His answer was that his main focus is on the biological aspect and that these issues will come up and will need to be addressed at some point.
After the talk, I went up to him and mentioned to him about the incidence in cancer rising in the US and with environmental factors like radiation and pollution contributing to it, that it will be difficult to be healthy, but there was a long line of students behind me, so I didn't get a chance to talk at length on that dear subject.
Yesterday we attended a talk hosted by the World Future Society at the Community College of Baltimore in Essex, MD given by Dr. Aubrey de Grey. He is a Cambridge graduate and the author of the 2007 book "Ending Aging." He was an hour late and he only spoke a half hour, but it was an interesting talk, never-the-less.
I learned about him after picking up his book a few months ago and
found what he wrote to be very interesting. He is the director of a foundation called SENS (www.sens.org).
Dr. Aubrey de Grey is optimistic that with the help of technology we will be able to live longer. Although he stressed in his talk that his focus is not only about longevity, but more importantly, about improving our health. For some reason, he doesn't believe that supplements, etc. add to our longevity, yet he does believe in preventative medicine.
In his talk, Dr. de Grey used the description of a car, which is a machine, and as it ages, is maintained and repaired and therefore can live well beyond its intended life span (in his example - 50 years). He believes that we can do the same thing to the human body - treat it like a machine. Each time we extend our lives, then that buys us time for newer technology to add more life.
Just the act of living causes oxidation in our bodies, so that is an inherent part of our lives. Damage to the body caused by oxidation accumulates over time, and instead of focusing our efforts on what causes this damage, we should repair the damage.
I asked the question: "There are assumptions in your theory, that the patient will get to the doctor on time, that the doctor is well trained in this new technology, and that the insurance companies will pay for these services." His answer was that his main focus is on the biological aspect and that these issues will come up and will need to be addressed at some point.
After the talk, I went up to him and mentioned to him about the incidence in cancer rising in the US and with environmental factors like radiation and pollution contributing to it, that it will be difficult to be healthy, but there was a long line of students behind me, so I didn't get a chance to talk at length on that dear subject.
Sunday, October 02, 2011
Social Media
The change that is happening these last few years with regard to social media is astounding. More and more people are connecting socially through the internet with the techno gadgets they tout in their purses and pockets. Who would have ever thought of technology and humans meshing into such a global social network a few years back? Not me, but then I also wasn't too keen about cell phones, either.
Amazing to watch your fingers "do the talking" as you silently touch keyboards, putting your subconscious thoughts down, and bingo, getting a response from somewhere in the global cosmos from another human being. This is beginning to remind me of what happened to money. First, there was barter, then there was money, then there were plastic cards, then there were electronic accounts.
Increasingly complex and symbolic. How often do you touch money these days?
Socially, at first we humans talked with other humans, then there were telephones, then there was email, then there is Facebook and Twitter. Something is missing in all of this. This is a sketchy existence, an outline of life in order to be part of something bigger than us. What is wrong here? Plenty.
What is missing is the human connection; seeing and hearing people talk in a conversation, watching them express emotions, touching their hand, or giving them a smile or nod. What is missing here is the ability to carry on a conversation and learning the signals that people give when communicating. What is missing here are real people.
Another problem is that I don't know that the person I am writing to on twitter or facebook is real, do I, unless I know them personally. So we learn to accept another reality, just like we learned to accept other worlds while watching movies and videos. Even though we are living in this "real" world, when we watch movies, read a book, or communicate via internet, we are transcending ourselves and living in another reality at the same time that our bodies are rooted in a physical place.
Finally, I have noticed on an increasing basis, that more and more people are not writing proper English on the internet. At first, I dismissed it thinking that people would write on their tiny computers and it would be difficult to correct, but when I saw a Wikipedia article the other day written full of typos, I said enough is enough. The internet does not have quality control. People write and push a button, and voila it is public to the whole world. Something is wrong about that. Because once it goes on the internet, it stays in the databanks forever.
Think about it.
Amazing to watch your fingers "do the talking" as you silently touch keyboards, putting your subconscious thoughts down, and bingo, getting a response from somewhere in the global cosmos from another human being. This is beginning to remind me of what happened to money. First, there was barter, then there was money, then there were plastic cards, then there were electronic accounts.
Increasingly complex and symbolic. How often do you touch money these days?
Socially, at first we humans talked with other humans, then there were telephones, then there was email, then there is Facebook and Twitter. Something is missing in all of this. This is a sketchy existence, an outline of life in order to be part of something bigger than us. What is wrong here? Plenty.
What is missing is the human connection; seeing and hearing people talk in a conversation, watching them express emotions, touching their hand, or giving them a smile or nod. What is missing here is the ability to carry on a conversation and learning the signals that people give when communicating. What is missing here are real people.
Another problem is that I don't know that the person I am writing to on twitter or facebook is real, do I, unless I know them personally. So we learn to accept another reality, just like we learned to accept other worlds while watching movies and videos. Even though we are living in this "real" world, when we watch movies, read a book, or communicate via internet, we are transcending ourselves and living in another reality at the same time that our bodies are rooted in a physical place.
Finally, I have noticed on an increasing basis, that more and more people are not writing proper English on the internet. At first, I dismissed it thinking that people would write on their tiny computers and it would be difficult to correct, but when I saw a Wikipedia article the other day written full of typos, I said enough is enough. The internet does not have quality control. People write and push a button, and voila it is public to the whole world. Something is wrong about that. Because once it goes on the internet, it stays in the databanks forever.
Think about it.
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