Ten things my cat is teaching me about writing and about life.

Ten things my cat is teaching me about writing and about life.

1. S**t happens. Apparently, it happens more often than we think.
2. Everyone should have a cozy, safe place to go to once in a while. One that is beyond anyone else’s reach.
3. Trick me once, shame on you. Trick me twice, and I’ll hide under the bed.
4. I’m smarter and I’m faster. Go ahead, make my day—get out the pet carrier.
5. Okay, I’m only here for you. Go ahead, feed that fiction if it makes you happy.
6. Uh, you do know they only removed my front claws—right?
7. I’ll come out when I’m good and ready.
8. Catnip? I don’t need no stinkin’ catnip!
9. Of course I sleep all day. How else am I supposed to be able to annoy you all night?
10. Um…excuse me…my litter box needs cleaning. Now! And while you’re at it, would you refill my food dish and toss me a treat?

How might some of these lessons apply to writing?

1. Rejections happen.
2. Every writer needs a quiet space to cozy up with their characters.
5. We don’t always have as much control over our characters as we may think.
7. Our characters and their stories will reveal themselves when they are ready. Like the cat, you can’t drag them out from under the bed. And if you do, they just won’t cooperate.
10. Every so often we need to edit and rewrite—filter out the crap and refresh the story.

The rest pretty much apply to life.

3. If we’re smart, we learn the first time.
4. Be alert and be prepared.
6. Know your strengths.
8. Don’t be lured in by false promises of happiness.
9. Get enough rest and make time for play.
* Number 1 also applies here: S**t happens.

I'm either going to be very smart at the end of this relationship with Olivia, or I'm going to be locked in the pet carrier.

Linda

Adventures With Olivia

I brought my rescue cat home today. Minnie has been renamed Olivia. She really doesn't look like a Minnie anyway, does she? Actually, I should have named her Houdini.

She has done her best to initiate me into the world of cat parenting. I live in a third floor apartment. I lost her four times today. No, really. Lost--as in could not find her anywhere. And I looked--everywhere. She had taken to hiding behind the refrigerator, so that was the first place I looked. No Olivia. I was mystified as to where she could have gone. How does a fully-grown black and white cat completely disappear in a one-bedroom apartment?

Then I heard a little bump somewhere above my head. I was standing in the kitchen at the time. I began to open the doors to the kitchen cabinets. Sure enough, from the far corner on the top shelf appeared two green eyes. She was quite cozy in her little hiding space until I dragged her butt out of there.

An hour later--where's Olivia? Well, I'm trainable. I looked in the cabinet first. You guessed it. There she was. I removed her again, and then figured out how she was getting in there. Seems whoever installed the cabinets didn't finish off the ends of those shelves because they were hidden anyway. Well, from everyone except Olivia. She figured out if she made it onto the counter and stepped up onto the plastic containers filled with cereal, she could slip up behind the cabinets and into her secret place. (I can only hope she continues to find the litter box as easily as she found this tiny little opening to squeeze through into her hiding space.)

But while I was up on the ladder examining the cabinets, I saw the collection of dust on the top. So I retrieved the hand-vac and proceeded to suck up the dust. Cats are frightened by vacuum cleaners. So, Olivia takes another powder. She can't be in the cabinet, so I search again behind the fridge, but to no avail. I am totally at a loss. When I return to the living room where I had draped the sofa and one chair with sheets until I see if she's a furniture cat, I see a small bump beneath the sheet on the sofa and it appears to be breathing. Yup, it's Olivia. Snug in her safe place away from the vaccuum. Well, at least she's exercising me.

The fourth time, I had left my bedroom door open. Sure enough, I peered under the bedskirt and, from the other side, Olivia peered back at me.

As soon as I sat down to write and ignored her completely, however, she came out to rub against my ankles and roll on my feet.

I think she's going to let me stay, but we'll see if she changes the locks tomorrow while I'm at work.

Linda

Taking the Plunge

No, I'm not getting married. I'm getting a cat. After months of consideration, I am taking the plunge into pseudo-parenthood. At first, the idea of having a cat around was all about my needs. I would have company. Someone--or something--would (hopefully)greet me and be happy to see me come through the door at the end of the day. I say 'hopefully' because I have had enough experience with cats to know that some of them live with you--and others let you live with them.

I found Minnie (whose name will probably change once I see her personality a bit more) at a shelter. I was looking for a younger cat with lots of energy. Or so I thought until I'd visited three shelters. The energetic kittens and younger cats were yowling and swiping at me through the doors of their cages. Then I saw six-year-old Minnie. She was crouched in her cage, her eyes wide as she watched the goings on around her. But I passed her by to scratch the ears of a curious tabby in the next cage.

Minnie stayed on my mind all weekend, however. Her story of being sacrificed by her former owner explained the frightened look in her eyes. She'd gone from a home she'd lived in for six years to--well--jail. I returned to the shelter to take a closer look at her. She trembled at first when the shelter attendant placed her in my arms. With no front claws, she pawed frantically at my shoulder until I soothed her.

When she was put down to roam free, she found first one hiding place on a book shelf, then an even better spot behind the computer tower under the attendant's desk. But when the attendant reached back to coax her from behind the desk, Minnie allowed herself to be pulled from her spot without complaint--no hiss or meow. And when I once again held her, she rubbed her face against my chin and my hand, claiming me as hers.

While I prepare for Minnie's arrival next Monday, I find I'm both anxious and excited. And the anxiety is curious to me. I think I've realized that this isn't just about my needs. It's a commitment to Minnie (or whomever she will become), too.

This post has absolutely nothing to do with writing. It does, however, have a lot to do with stepping outside ourselves. Which, in a way, has something to do with writing, now that I think about it. We can become very isolated and insulated when we only live inside our own heads, our own fictions. Caring for someone or something else forces us outside of ourselves.

You know, Minnie could make me a better writer with that lesson. I fully expect she'll make me a better person. Once I have her settled at home, I'll post her picture, if I can get the shy girl to step out of the shadows and pose for a minute.

I have to say that visiting the animal shelters was wrenching. There are so many helpless animals in need of good homes. If you're considering a pet, please consider adopting from a shelter. You might be lucky enough to find the next Minnie.

Linda

COMING IN SEPTEMBER: The Restoration of Abby Walker

I just signed a contract with Wings ePress, Inc. to publish my women's fiction novel, THE RESTORATION OF ABBY WALKER. The book will be available in September.

Here is a short synopsis to whet your appetite:

Abigail Walker Mulgrew married into one of the wealthiest families in Baltimore society. Her daughter, Caitlin, is in graduate school in California, and Abby is preparing to celebrate her twenty-fifth wedding anniversary with her husband, Wil, on a cruise through Alaska’s inner passage. Abby is determined to use this time alone with Wil to bridge the chasm that has gradually widened between them.

The last thing Abby expects as an anniversary gift is the news she receives from her husband. It propels her into a tailspin that drops her down in an Ocean City, Maryland B&B. Abby faces several changes, among them the opportunity to open the antiques business she has always wanted to own.

As Abby learns more about refinishing and restoring furniture, she begins her own process of restoration, reclaiming the woman she thought she would one day become.

~ * ~

If you need a summer read to carry you through, check out my books at http://www.wings-press.com/Author%20Pages/Author%20-%20Linda%20Rettstatt.htm or read excerpts and reviews and find buy links on my website at http://www.geocities.com/lindarettstatt


Linda (who is perfecting her Happy Dance from a recliner beneath her laptop :)

Shooting Into the Sun

Shooting Into the Sun has been contracted by Champagne Books for publication in May, 2010.

Nature photographer Rylee Morgan invites her recently un-engaged younger sister, Lexie, to accompany her on a business trip across the country. Lexie, the wild child of the family, challenges Rylee to stretch her boundaries and live outside the neatly constructed box in which she’s placed herself for safe keeping. A perfectionist, Rylee is haunted and driven by ghosts from her past. She locates and confronts the father who abandoned her and Lexie sixteen years earlier, and she finds herself falling for a hitchhiker who is crossing the country to lay his own ghosts to rest. Rylee is breaking her own rules left and right.

Rylee must face her fears, dare to step beyond the safe boundaries she has constructed, and risk her heart. And in order to do so, she has to break a cardinal rule of her craft, both literally and figuratively, by Shooting Into the Sun.

~ * ~

But first -- Next Time, I'm Gonna Dance is scheduled for January release.

Facing breast cancer for the second time, and certain she could die, Emmie Steele takes an inventory of her life. She realizes her one regret—she never learned to dance—and makes this a metaphor that gives her the strength to survive.

~ * ~

While you're eagerly awaiting these books, visit my website at: http://www.geocities.com/lindarettstatt or stop by http://www.wings-press.com/ to check out one of my previously published books: And the Truth Will Set You Free; Pieces; The Year I Lost My Mind; and, Finding Hope.

I'm taking a well-earned vacation and will be traveling to Arizona until the end of May. Despite my promise that this will be 'time off', I'm sure at least one new story line will worm it's way into my brain. Who wouldn't be inspired by the red rocks and canyons around Sedona, or the desert of Tucson?

See you in June.

Linda

Who Am I To Judge?

Most of us have, at one time or another, entered our work in writing contests. And more than a few of us have served as judges for contests. When I was first invited to judge a contest for an RWA chapter, I mulled the idea over for a few days. Sure, I'd written a few books by then. And, yes, two had been published. But I still heard that nagging question, "Who am I to judge someone else's writing?"

One can get caught up in a debate about the qualifications of judges for writing competitions. Should the first round judges always be published authors and/or editors? Does having a book published prove one possesses the skills needed to judge another's work? And we can't dismiss the subjectivity involved in judging another writer's work. Each of us has our strong areas and our weaknesses, even as published authors. And we all have our own preferences as to what we like in a story, in the plot and in the characters. We can't divorce ourselves completely from those preferences, even when we're handed a scoring sheet to follow.

I've been on the receiving end of having my work judged for a competition. It can be exhilarating, humiliating, affirming, clarifying--or all of the above. In discussions on the topic with other writers, what I hear most people say is, "The real value of a contest lies in the critique and feedback you receive. That helps you to improve your writing." I agree, but I also think there's more to it. I think we enter our work in writing competitions with the same optimism a mother submits her child's photo to a 'most beautiful baby' contest. We believe we have the most beautiful baby and will win the grand prize. No one wants to have their submission returned with a note that, in effect, says, "Your baby's just not cute enough."

Some things I think we need to be mindful of when putting our work out there for judgment:

* Be prepared for the best and the worst in feedback (what you'll probably get is something in the middle).

* It's not the end of the world if you lose; it's not the Pulitzer, if you win.

* You can learn from the feedback of both the best and worst of judges. You will learn to be discriminating about your own work, to begin to trust what you know is true in your work, even if someone else doesn't see it. And you will learn from the better judges how you can make your sentences tighter, crisper, and more active.

* Every opinion is just one person's opinion. I don't want to minimize the value of a judge's opinion, but urge writers to keep the feedback in perspective, just as you would with a critique partner.

* Don't be discouraged. Use what is offered that will strengthen your writing; leave the rest and move on.

* If you keep entering contests and you keep getting the same negative feedback--work to improve your skill. Don't write it off as being the fault of judges who know nothing. One judge may know nothing; a second judge may be having a bad day and/or know nothing. Five judges can't all be wrong.

And for those daring souls who agree to serve as judge:

* Start by remembering what it is like to be in the other pair of shoes, the other person's skin--sending your baby off to judgment.

* Follow the guidelines given for whatever particular contest you are judging.

* Read each entry more than once. I don't think anyone can fairly judge twenty-five pages of work at first glance. Give the work the time it deserves. Not only is this someone's blood and sweat, their heart's work that you're holding in your hands, but they've no doubt paid a fee to have you examine and judge the work.

* Be honest, fair, and kind. Some people think that being honest translates into being cutting, harsh, or demeaning. No--that's just being mean.

* Explain your scoring--Most score sheets allow space for comments. If it's a low score, what would the writer need to do to improve? If it's a high score, what has he or she done remarkably well?

Now, do I think a contest judge should be a published writer? Yes, and no. Yes, I think a first-round judge should be published and know the writing process (this could include editors). No, I don't think ALL published writers should be judges. A number of people can write, but not well. And some of those get published because a really good editor makes their work publishable. We all need editors for our work, but those writers who manage to get published, but struggle with the basics of good writing should not be judging someone else's writing. And, yes, that does happen. Of course, that's just my opinion. You may differ.

What have been your experiences with writing competitions--as a writer and/or as a judge? I'm off the soapbox. It's all yours.

Linda

HAPPY EARTH DAY

Save a tree...Read an e-book!

I am the first to admit that I love the look, the feel, the smell of one of my own brand new books. But as we celebrate Earth Day, I take a moment to pause and consider ways I can be kinder to Mother Earth. Yes, the manufacturing and use of electronic devices has other effects on the environment. There are arguments on both sides of the table for and against electronic publishing versus traditional print publishing.

If you don't know about electronic publishing and e-books, take time today to educate yourself. Then you can make a well-informed choice. Here are some handy links to help:

EPIC - The Electronically Published Internet Connection www.epicauthors.com/

Fictionwise (an online electronic book distributor) www.fictionwise.com/

Or type the words 'electronic publishing' in your browser and do a bit of research.

Have a Happy Earth Day!

Linda