Consider this . . .

24997436-close-up-image-of-young-people-using-laptop-at-classroom

If I started a story, would you consider contributing a paragraph in the comment’s field? It would be necessary for writers to consider this a serious endeavor, writing well and developing the plot. I would create a document adding each paragraph to the ongoing story.

Let’s consider having some fun while writing an incredible story. What do you say?

Be sure to include your full name and email address at the end of your paragraph. I will maintain perfect records of each contributing writer.

I’ll begin:

Meetings arranged by Lucid Lucy tended to end with half the attendees walking out before the designated time. “Why did I agree to accompany you tonight?” Paul said, shaking his head in disbelief.

My first novel

In Kala's Hands FINAL Amazon LargeLong time, I know! I’ve been busy writing my first novel. It’s published with a release date set for November 29, 2014.

Considering I never thought I’d accomplish my dream of becoming an author, this has been an amazing week!!

Please visit my new blog with book information and enjoy the videos showing the setting of the novel. There’s also a link to my Amazon Author’s Page if you are interested in pre-ordering a copy.

http://mcrocco.wordpress.com/

Please drop me a line and share your thoughts. 🙂

Thank you

Mary

The Power of a Tweet

twitter-power

I woke up after a restless two and a half hours sleep to the sound of a vehicle alarm horn blasting outside my bedroom window. You see, my window is a few yards from a major public street, where my truck sat overnight. Anyone who knows me is aware of how much I love my 1997 Toyota Tacoma pickup, and would understand my concern.

It’s too old to be equipped with the technological bells and whistles of later models, but I still woke up with a start from the blaring sound of another vehicle. There it waited, wondering why it was being punished, for me to drive it back into its comfort space at three o’clock this afternoon, adorned with fresh parking lot lines.

What does this has to do with a Tweet, you ask. I couldn’t get back to sleep, which has been the trend for a couple of weeks. You see, my waterbed heater broke, leaving my bed cold as ice, which my arthritis doesn’t appreciate. My neighbor and I installed a new heater over the weekend, and I’m waiting for the time it takes to heat up.

I digress – back to considering the Power of a Tweet. I hobbled out to the kitchen to unplug my iPad from its charge, and saw an email from a Tweet that read: Nice to meet you, too. I love your blogs. The tweet even added the two links to the blogs she reads, this one and my Living with CML blog. Incredible. Shamefully, I haven’t added a post to this particular blog since Sept. 2012. I replied how she made my day, even ‘considering’ writing a post today.

What’s the big deal? To some, who may have tens of thousands of followers who read and comment to their tweets, or for those who have hundreds of followers to their blogs, perhaps its nada? But I gotta tell you, it made my day!

Her tweet held such power over me because it’s been a trying time lately. Yesterday my knee MRI proved the tears I self-diagnosed were absolutely in need of repair. Surgery will be soon. I’ve been feeling down having to use my cane again, and popping pain killers kill me. (Couldn’t resist)

I’m still trying to edit my book, but it’s so damn hard to concentrate, between my knee and missing my relief of a nice, warm waterbed. To make matters worse, my eye is acting up, which makes it hard to even read, even my stomach problems have visited again, not to mention my damn cramps, especially my hands, which are having problems holding my Kindle.

So, the power of that Tweet at five a.m. forced me to write this post. Thank you, Nephylim@SevenPointStar.

Delivery of my monthly chemo drug is today, which I sign for. It’s far too expensive to leave at the doorstep. So I dare not hit the couch until it arrives, in fear of nodding off. This drug keeps me alive, and I don’t mess with Gleevec.

I must end here, because my eye won’t let me continue. It’s been the boss of me for weeks.

To anyone who reads this entry, please consider the Power of a Tweet today – 140 characters of muscle.

Thank you for reading.
Mary

The Power of Memories

tch pic

September 17, 2013
Today I traveled back in time, to 1979, the year I experienced a personal transformation in my life. An exchange of a few harmless words, on social media, reduced me to tears, as memories of a specific day flooded my mind. One never knows the direct impact a simple message can have on a person.

A college professor communicated with me today, which transported me back to my classroom seat thirty four years ago. His message read, ‘Glad to see that you write,’ and he joked around and asked if Mohave Community College did that for me. I replied with a specific answer to his innocent question, informing him how Professor Jones’ Creative Writing class actually did spark my writing interest. He wasn’t aware that his inquiry and the fact he taught at MCC had silently led my thoughts to a specific memory.

You see, I had just left Long Island, NY at the age of twenty three, with my first husband and two children. Independence was all I could think about after selling a beautiful home and hitting the road on my escape to the great southwest. No one was more excited to leave behind a familiar life and enter a new world of unfamiliar.

After settling in and purchasing a home, I decided to go to college. Moving to the small town of Lake Havasu City, AZ presented an easy choice, as there was only one college in this remote desert town. I registered and signed up for two classes, Professor Jones’ Creative Writing and a Sociology class called, Deviant Behavior. Professor Jones assigned a variety of writing exercises and I considered each one significant, writing and rewriting until my hand ached with cramps, (before technology). I received a B+ on my first story and couldn’t keep the smile off my face. He asked me to read it to the class, which petrified me, but at the same time, thrilled me to death. The class enjoyed the story, appreciating my humor, and the professor commented on my tongue and cheek style of writing.

While the Creative Writing class was a positive experience, I viewed the Sociology class as a rite of passage. Let me explain, I didn’t have an unhappy childhood, but I will admit it went all to hell when I became a teenager. Without turning this into a psychotherapy session, here’s the situation growing up. I had never been asked for my opinion, never been asked to express my thoughts. Maybe it was because I was a girl, maybe it was because my thoughts weren’t valued, whatever the reason, that’s the way it was.

Back in class during a lecture, my sociology professor left his podium and began walking around the classroom. He would stop and direct his attention to a student and ask a question. I was thoroughly enjoying the discussion and informal teaching style of the professor, until something unexpected happened.

He stopped at ‘my’ desk, looked directly at ‘me’, and asked ‘me’, what I thought. I kid you not as I describe my reaction to the first time anyone in authority ever asked for my opinion. I was dumbfounded, bolted out of the room, climbed into my truck, and cried all the way home. So powerful a memory thirty four years later, that it evoked an intense emotional reaction as if it had happened today.

I considered dropping the class, as I was mortified over my behavior. Somehow, I managed to conjure up the strength to face the professor and my classmates. I read the assigned chapters, inside and out, to be prepared to join in classroom discussions and answer a direct question from the professor. Looking back, I recognized how astute he was, he didn’t give up on me and waited for body language clues before asking the once dreaded question, ‘What do you think, Mary?’ (I never forgot this lesson as a mother or a teacher.) This wise professor proved my thoughts were valuable and my written essays improved along with my participation and I received an A- for the class.

Memories are a lot to consider. Everyone harbors the pleasant and the not so pleasant, wishing the unpleasant would stop resurfacing. Even though a professor’s innocent words today evoked unpleasant memories, the original experience served an important purpose because it turned into a positive, life changing event.

On that school day in 1979, I realized I could voice my opinion; that my thoughts were indeed valued and worthwhile. It was an eye-opening experience to consider, and is imbedded in my memory.

Thanks for reading.
Mary

Walking in Kala’s shoes

Kala's shoes

September 16, 2013

Feeling good for almost two months, I committed to last week’s plan. I booked a flight to Rapid City, South Dakota. Using my son Bobby’s expression – I’m stoked!

Why Rapid City? It’s the setting for my novel, of course. The protagonist in my story, Kala, lives in Rapid City, and she drives out to the Pine Ridge Reservation hoping the visit will shed light on her proclaimed destiny.

I will walk in Kala’s shoes for four days, visiting the Prairie Edge Gallery where she works, eating at her favorite restaurant, The All American Café, and taking the two hour drive to the Pine Ridge Reservation. I’ll also visit the Journey Museum where her friend works, and patron a couple of restaurants where she and her boyfriend, Todd, enjoyed many delicious meals together. What better way to add any finishing touches to my novel than to walk in Kala’s shoes.

If this sounds a bit extreme, you may be right, and I may be crazy, but when I see Diana Nyad and Valerie Harper acting brave, facing their fears and standing up to cancer, it makes me think, why can’t I be brave? I don’t know how long I’ll feel this good, so I’ve got to strike while the iron is hot, as the cliché goes. Walking in Kala’s shoes wasn’t on my list – however, it’s such a great idea, I just gotta do it!

My son is going to accompany me and offered to video tape the entire trip. The footage he shoots will post on the website I create to promote the book. How awesome is that, and how awesome is he? Bobby is an Indie musician and currently on tour, http://bobbymeadermusic.com/ so we booked my adventure for mid- November. I hired an indigenous Native American from the Lakota Sioux Nation, born and raised on the Pine Ridge Reservation. Speaking to White Thunder and explaining what I needed confirmed any doubts about embarking on this undertaking. Are you starting to understand why I’m so excited?

Considering the option of purchasing travel insurance through the airline, was an unwelcome dose of reality. When the agent offered it, I replied, ‘I’ll consider it.’ I know it makes sense to buy, and I’m sure I will call the agent, because not feeling well enough to make the trip is a possibility. However, just for a minute, I wanted to feel like a normal healthy person just booking a flight for fun.

Off to the pool for exercise – I will be strong enough to walk in Kala’s shoes come November.

Thanks for reading!

Mary

Consider my considerations.

i love men

September 15, 2013

While taking a suggested break from editing my first novel, I confused my pea brain. Where do I channel the daily frustrations of revising a manuscript? I wrote a short story, trying to perfect it before entering a contest, and will write another. I post monthly on my Living with CML blog, http://www.marycrocco.wordpress.com. I read, I consider, and I swim at the local athletic club to clear my misunderstandings of life – oh yeah, and to exercise. Wait a minute, swim is a lie, I walk and kinda swim for two hours, which is another story I’ll tell you about later on, if there’s interest.

Where was I? Oh yeah. Wanting to have some fun with writing, I named this blog, ‘Considering’, because I consider everything. For this post, I will consider how much I love being in the pool, considering how fat (yup fat, no sugar coating) I look in my bathing suit upon entering and exiting. I will consider the great job the water does of concealing my body from the neck down, helping me forget what hides underneath, while making me feel thinner. I will consider if I’ll ever reap the rewards of my two hour, ‘this feels so good’ routine, and I will consider how much I love being the only person in the pool.

That’s the beauty of a 24/7 athletic club. Don’t start considering conclusions of your own as to why I fancy going solo, because the reason may be unexpected. It has nada to do with cellulite, and everything to do with – well, let me begin by saying, I have attended every single aqua class offered at every hour of the day and night. Self-help gurus consider it unhealthy to spend day in and day out alone, hence I forced myself to socialize. But I gotta tell ya, I can’t do it. I’m not anti-social and I don’t mind crowds assembled for a reason, but the small groups huddled together for mindless conversations are another story.

To prove I’m not a schmuck, when I exercised in between daytime organized classes, I was nick named, Teacher Mary, because I helped women overcome their fear of water (hugging the side of the pool in torment was unacceptable) and assisting women when being asked about an exercise in my routine. As a retired teacher frequently presented with ‘teaching moments’ in a variety of life situations, I do enjoy helping men, women, and children, if and whenever I can. Now back to considering the reason why I swim solo. Let me consider for a moment whether to confess. Hmmmmmm. Ok, here goes – I hate groups of women. Phew! I’ve said it, now I’m considering if it was a wise decision.

Let me explain, there is nada worse than the general conversations of women. Exchanging recipes and cleaning hints, gardening, fashion trends, and shopping. I have no interest in any of these. Oh, don’t let me forget the men bashing dialogue. Considering how I love men, this drove me to consider finding a time suited for my own convoluted thoughts.

I hope I haven’t alienated any women from continuing my blog. Please consider reading so I can further explain. I don’t hate women, just groups of them. In my experience, a group of women fester conversations evolving around typical women stuff. I consider being raised an only girl having three brothers, and then married twice and having three sons, the root of my lack of girly interests. While some women in the same situation may be extra girly, what can I say? This is me.

I hate flowers, jewelry, (although I do enjoy nice earrings); getting dressed up in fancy clothes and hairdos. To give you an example, I’m writing in my boxers and tee shirt, both are my favorite attire. When I go out to get the mail, it annoys me that I have to put on pants! Did I mention I’m long overdue for a Super Cut?

Where was I? Oh yeah, considering my effort to arrange a time where the pool was all mine, paid off. Going after midnight, guarantees I’m one of two or three people, but I would miss a few laughs from Late Late Night with Craig Ferguson or Jimmy Fallon (love the Roots), so I go a little earlier. There are a handful of people, but mostly men! Did I mention I love men? We talk, laugh, and have a good time while exercising, considering the lack of discussion about recipes, cleaning, gardening, fashion, and shopping. No matter what situation, in or out of the pool, I always gravitate towards men and never regret it. I’m not pushy or domineering, I just prefer men.

Considering the length of my first entry, I will consider ending with this consideration – I’m considering writing this blog daily considering what I considered for the day. Today my consideration was how to fill the void of editing my manuscript, which resulted in creating this blog called, ‘Considering.’ I shared my nightly two hour exercise schedule along with some (riveting) personal tidbits.

Your turn – would you consider reading another considerable post? I promise I will consider never using the word consider again.

Please consider (I only said I would consider never using the word) leaving a comment for me to consider.

Thanks for your consideration.

Mary