tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41536623509920189452024-03-19T06:57:06.986-06:00Diary of an Unkempt WomanTo laugh often and much, to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children, to earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends, to appreciate beauty, to find the best in others, to leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch... to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded! - EmersonSandra Miller Linharthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763775906422263427noreply@blogger.comBlogger12125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4153662350992018945.post-40111994013333146842023-08-28T11:37:00.004-06:002023-08-30T09:16:21.974-06:00Dear Jonathan,<p>28 August 2023</p><p>Man, so much has happened since you left. I can't believe you dipped out on me like that. I felt as though you were my closest and dearest friend. Apparently, you didn't feel the same. No worries. It happens. I still love you.</p><p>So... a few days after you left, Mom died. The cancer finally took her. Six-and-a-half weeks of watching her fade away was heart-wrenching and so very exhausting... I know you were there for most of it, and I appreciate your comfort and kindness during those weeks. I know you were having your own issues, and I wish I could've been there for you more than I was. Mom needed me, though. It was just me and her... in my living room... her in that Hospice-loaned hospital bed and me on the couch, sitting and watching and waiting in numbed stupor as she threw up green sludge and whispered for water or morphine. I was beyond exhausted.</p><p>Six-and-a-half weeks with little to no sleep will do that to a person. Ask any new mother.</p><p>Anyway, I think... I recall talking with you on Sunday, the 27th of October, 2019. We were both tired, but you took time to talk me off that proverbial ledge. Do you remember? That was the last time we spoke on the phone. Mom had just asked me to kill her so she could be out of pain. I told her I couldn't. You told me I should. </p><p>You told me if I loved her, I'd let her go.</p><p>The thing is, I did and do love her, but I just couldn't do that. That was too far, and quite frankly, too much for her to ask of me. </p><p>Monday afternoon, I upped her morphine a bit, trying to ease her pain.<br />And then I drank a whole bunch of whiskey and pop to try to ease mine. I awoke with a start on the couch. I don't know what time it was... maybe 6pm-ish. I had a god-wink to call you and tell you how much I care for you. But, you know, since you are so much younger than me, I thought you might take it the wrong way and then there'd be that awkwardness between us, and I just couldn't handle that.</p><p>So, I texted. </p><p>I texted our group chat:</p><p>"Hey, I just wanted you all to know how much you mean to me. I love you all so much."</p><p>Sarah answered back right away. Matt soon followed...</p><p>But, you didn't answer.</p><p>You rarely did. </p><p>I thought you might call, as was your norm when I texted. But you may have been preparing for your trip... or maybe you were already on your way. At any rate, I hope you read my message. </p><p>I remembered you had court that same day regarding custody of your kids. I remember hoping you got good news, but didn't want to ask in case you hadn't. I knew you'd eventually contact me.</p><p>So... back to Mom. Or, rather, me. (Man, I can't believe it's been this long since we've spoken.) I went back to sleep on the couch. I was probably still a little swasted. </p><p>Something woke me. </p><p>I sat up. I looked at Mom. </p><p>She was the same, but different. </p><p>But, then I noticed there were golden orbs floating over my head. I shit you, not. Like a stream of golden, beautiful, bright orbs... just passing, like in a stream above my head. </p><p>And then I was in them. </p><p>And then over them. </p><p>The most beautiful vibration/song engulfed the room. It felt like an eternity of beautiful serenity.</p><p>Then, I was back on the couch. </p><p>The orbs were lessened, but flowed away. </p><p>The music faded.</p><p>I looked at Mom. </p><p>She was still breathing... a mechanical, weird, cadence.</p><p>I don't remember the next few days. I was in a haze of exhaustion and... I don't know. I really don't recall much of it.</p><p>On Wednesday, Oct 30th, I asked my cousin to come over. I felt it was Mom's time--that her body was going to give up the ghost and I felt I didn't want to be alone. If you recall, Pam lived across the street.</p><p>Pam got there and we lotioned up Mom's arms and legs, talked with her, and tried to make her body comfy. She never responded... just that mechanical breathing that started on Monday and never ceased, changed, or altered. At around 11:30pm, her mouth snapped shut and she was still.</p><p>I called Hospice.</p><p>I contacted my siblings.</p><p>I texted our group, "She's gone."</p><p>Hospice came. They wrapped her shell up in a black bag and took her away. They took away her bed, her walker, the shower insert, the cane...everything they had lent us when she was first diagnosed on September 15th, was is? With stage four full-body cancer.</p><p>I fell asleep.</p><p>Sarah answered my text in the morning. She asked if y'all could come see me that day at noon.</p><p>I told her I looked a mess, my house was a mess, I probably stunk, but it'd be nice to have friends around me.</p><p>As promised, Sarah, Matt, and Gary from Habitat showed up at my door right around noon. I looked for you, but you weren't there. I figured you probably had to work.</p><p>I invited them in, apologized again for the state of my being.</p><p>They all awkwardly sat around for a moment. I get it, though. It's had to be around a mourner, and Mom had died barely twelve hours, prior.</p><p>Sarah opened her mouth to speak. I knew what she was going to say. She was going to say she was so sorry for my loss, and that Mom is no longer in any pain. I prepared to respond.</p><p>"So," she started, then stumbled. I waited until she began again. "So, I bet you notice Jonathan isn't with us today..."</p><p>I started to say that's okay, I'm sure he had to work, but I barely got my mouth open when she finished with, "because he's no longer with us."</p><p>It took me a second, I'll admit. I always thought I was quick on the uptake, but not that day. Not just twelve hours after Mom left me.</p><p>"They found his body yesterday afternoon. He took his life sometime Monday night."</p><p>And that was the final straw that broke my life.</p><p>I miss you, my dear friend. I should have followed that god-wink and called. I am so sorry I didn't.</p><p>I hope you found what you're looking for. I hope you have peace. </p><p>The (almost) last words you spoke to me were: "If you loved her, you'd let her go."</p><p>I can't help but think that was your good-bye to me. </p><p><br /></p><p>If you don't mind, I'll write to you now and again to let you know what and how I'm doing. You've missed so much. I wonder sometimes if one of the orbs was you. I'd like to believe so.</p><p><a href="https://988lifeline.org/">https://988lifeline.org/</a></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Sandra Miller Linharthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763775906422263427noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4153662350992018945.post-81281653543051944332018-01-13T20:31:00.001-07:002018-01-13T20:31:05.291-07:00Copyrights & Wrongs<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: 120%;">Article reprinted from The Military Writers Society of America's Winter 2018 Dispatches Magazine.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: 120%;">Most of us
are moved</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;">
by song lyrics, poems, or quotable quotes – they sometimes speak to our
innermost thoughts and dreams. Some can even compel us to be or do better. Who
doesn’t love a good chorus... </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhYlwEMNAtkFYASHjGewcW85H1org4iS4TUpoZ8cJhEZKEldlr6QjWDquSaFvXjM0VGj9VYqd6CERxAhU09XRU7nu3O2UbMBYYs5lv3SncLLI8HSeXKfJsOU8nhkgZFbsAZWMP0EwMLktE/s1600/love+walks+in.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhYlwEMNAtkFYASHjGewcW85H1org4iS4TUpoZ8cJhEZKEldlr6QjWDquSaFvXjM0VGj9VYqd6CERxAhU09XRU7nu3O2UbMBYYs5lv3SncLLI8HSeXKfJsOU8nhkgZFbsAZWMP0EwMLktE/s1600/love+walks+in.jpg" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">...or a song that sings to their soul?</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Also, a
well-written thought can enhance your book. Stephen King does it, as well as
myriad other writers...</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAVeb-X81KzcGSQ856NlSIIV8PR0hcu38YN5PCQGSUX7FU5hluy8rLIpCGFlk3p9Req1TM8smteeJydnBrn_pSIr0-hBtmgWvouhec04zI6iEiWSQIUaDJDERL059cOJVqO1stWkJHO5zd/s1600/he+did+it.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="208" data-original-width="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAVeb-X81KzcGSQ856NlSIIV8PR0hcu38YN5PCQGSUX7FU5hluy8rLIpCGFlk3p9Req1TM8smteeJydnBrn_pSIr0-hBtmgWvouhec04zI6iEiWSQIUaDJDERL059cOJVqO1stWkJHO5zd/s1600/he+did+it.jpg" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">...so why can't we?</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’ll tell you why – any work written
after 1923 is more than likely still copyrighted by the publisher or artist.
The publishing company and/or artists (or heirs) own the rights to artistic works
until they don’t. If I wanted to put a particular song lyric which describes
how a man ignores any words he doesn’t want to hear, anywhere in my book...</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiviDGu07CTpH4KjzQTwpCki72CKlc-O1QtRPV72GHkgLNHMN0OUHIysD_CsnOq2uAAkUcVld4J70pPvAQl7hQ8J_NNi80h1Q1GGjtmtotaVlthfTjpz3J0ixaRXe_YNyhCQ7TPqeaPVDYs/s1600/boxer.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="325" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiviDGu07CTpH4KjzQTwpCki72CKlc-O1QtRPV72GHkgLNHMN0OUHIysD_CsnOq2uAAkUcVld4J70pPvAQl7hQ8J_NNi80h1Q1GGjtmtotaVlthfTjpz3J0ixaRXe_YNyhCQ7TPqeaPVDYs/s320/boxer.jpeg" width="260" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Which one was The Boxer, anyway? Simon or Garfunkel?</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">...I’d have to research who owns the
particular rights to the song</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">, send
them a letter, and wait for their response... which may or may not come. The
copyright holder is entitled (by law) to either deny you the right to use the
quote, grant you permission (and perhaps charge you whatever they deem as fair
– to them) or ignore you. If they choose the latter, you still cannot print
their intellectual property in your book. Sorry. </span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX2lQSg_Xl6sy0jJDwwq-JwKRvJPPKk22rz8uJzNChwRNQFdE4i4se20r0AbYnxKG1-rYTk7ZsO8cyP7ptB56rBLpOMSqsybRl_YnD-OhwloZqphVWV5GE0Pkd9Fx6rfZEgFew_Jv2DLgm/s1600/hands+tied.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="195" data-original-width="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX2lQSg_Xl6sy0jJDwwq-JwKRvJPPKk22rz8uJzNChwRNQFdE4i4se20r0AbYnxKG1-rYTk7ZsO8cyP7ptB56rBLpOMSqsybRl_YnD-OhwloZqphVWV5GE0Pkd9Fx6rfZEgFew_Jv2DLgm/s1600/hands+tied.jpg" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Them's the breaks.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Authors like Stephen King – an author
who is known to use song lyrics at the beginning of his books – have big-house
publishers who more than likely have copyright owners on speed-dial and have a
standard contract to use and pay as needed. Most independent traditional
publishers do not. Most POD publishers do not. And, be warned – most POD
publishers will print whatever you give them without a care to copyright
issues. Somewhere within their contract (most likely in legalese or small
print) resides a clause wherein you, the author, swear the work you’re
publishing with them is entirely of your own creation. That signed confession
right there lets them off the legal hook. Just because they haven't any qualms
printing your book with Simon’s lyrics, don’t for a second believe you’ve
checked all the blocks and are therefore scot-free.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK0cOf3I-ngOCJfu6RH6T5ct8xKAwShz4qCSWLZeWo8UK7W8LT2K7fg0x9Oc5ABXrFPvAQxupw3KgtIsE0xtEs5u8AvoftKsbufcf_MTYxEMrm-zTfLZAaL3ZPN4wX-q_9LQSOEZxTNBCS/s1600/scot+free.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="254" data-original-width="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK0cOf3I-ngOCJfu6RH6T5ct8xKAwShz4qCSWLZeWo8UK7W8LT2K7fg0x9Oc5ABXrFPvAQxupw3KgtIsE0xtEs5u8AvoftKsbufcf_MTYxEMrm-zTfLZAaL3ZPN4wX-q_9LQSOEZxTNBCS/s1600/scot+free.jpg" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Erm...not so much...</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You may think (as a self-published or
POD author) your work will fly under the radar, ergo safe. I get it. You like
to live dangerously. It spices up your life and thrills you. Great. But before
you throw caution to the wind, consider why you’re writing in the first place.
Do you put pen to paper, or fingertip to keyboard with a desire that no one
read you? Do you really pour your heart and soul in black and white to go
unnoticed? The internet is full of stories about people who write a
self-published book and it takes off like wildfire. </span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnRz2yXgtUdDJ7bqAnN7abeNdsXtbX50wHm6C9tYZXpj3danypOf_E_WohHRwvYzG9kVNcqq9vpncFE6kzOt2BeReVCtJP-Hh9wait0dXQCQWJ8l-gcjai1UkhowNzUa8SsPKWC1fAVw3V/s1600/self-pub.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="180" data-original-width="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnRz2yXgtUdDJ7bqAnN7abeNdsXtbX50wHm6C9tYZXpj3danypOf_E_WohHRwvYzG9kVNcqq9vpncFE6kzOt2BeReVCtJP-Hh9wait0dXQCQWJ8l-gcjai1UkhowNzUa8SsPKWC1fAVw3V/s1600/self-pub.jpg" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This could be you!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The next
thing you know you’re showcased on your favorite talk-show and the host
mentions the quoted lyric or line... and you sit there like a deer in the water
(or a fish in the headlights) hoping no one is watching. Yeah...</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBMsljWhRH7b-z9YA8H7xGDSksWrsLLchhc8Aka9-XCa4h9tGSoN1VDNBVlLHf9EtZloterP_DrwCB3jiadazUNiZBaA9hqcaTc8jy_W0LTTP451IScZZL4kR5ubWcKOZU4qjN1ljnEWym/s1600/busted.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="155" data-original-width="325" height="152" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBMsljWhRH7b-z9YA8H7xGDSksWrsLLchhc8Aka9-XCa4h9tGSoN1VDNBVlLHf9EtZloterP_DrwCB3jiadazUNiZBaA9hqcaTc8jy_W0LTTP451IScZZL4kR5ubWcKOZU4qjN1ljnEWym/s320/busted.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Too late!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">If you really gotta have that
particular quote in your book, research and get the copyright holder’s
permission to print long before your book goes to the presses. Get the
permission and stipulations in writing and keep the email or letter, like,
forever – don’t expect your independent or POD publisher to do it for you.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">If you just want ‘a’ quote – write your own
snazzy lyric and pass it off as a fictitious person...</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwhlcw42nS6JXRsJ934nN57VMW6d8_3UGbpZbM2RirdcikCVwfkDLZsz9yRapIrhGoyYMJYRAHvo64tQC4X_p3F_JT1OxIOfn3s_V61vUXCoEFAgHZ8SyXMBEiTPQ7pkCCBCB7XdNII1ec/s1600/CL.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="136" data-original-width="369" height="117" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwhlcw42nS6JXRsJ934nN57VMW6d8_3UGbpZbM2RirdcikCVwfkDLZsz9yRapIrhGoyYMJYRAHvo64tQC4X_p3F_JT1OxIOfn3s_V61vUXCoEFAgHZ8SyXMBEiTPQ7pkCCBCB7XdNII1ec/s320/CL.png" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">...as it were...</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">...or use content written before 1923 and most likely in the public
domain. One caveat though, some copyright holders renew the license regularly
on popular or significant songs or performers and authors, so the age test
doesn’t necessarily hold water. You still need to do your research to ensure it's in the public domain. Your best bet is to forgo the quote altogether and sleep
easily...</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh6ib3s3lE4-l5f9tgx3ub8KRsOjviEiuD2ShcE7sI_I3TkLRxowqWfu-uporesciGFwUPoc5OwtnCxRLnMFkerXRoxDRZVIrpJurwyV0ytJ5tTnHBMI8bkIWy-oqM-w8R5bnqbNR2_Zcz/s1600/baby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh6ib3s3lE4-l5f9tgx3ub8KRsOjviEiuD2ShcE7sI_I3TkLRxowqWfu-uporesciGFwUPoc5OwtnCxRLnMFkerXRoxDRZVIrpJurwyV0ytJ5tTnHBMI8bkIWy-oqM-w8R5bnqbNR2_Zcz/s1600/baby.jpg" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">...like a well-dosed baby.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Bottom line: Publish your book
without borrowing anyone else’s ideas, hope for the best, and maybe someday
you’ll be in the position to sue the pants off someone for using your copyrighted
intellectual property without permission.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNVQIMNPFZcnvsImy-x4nU9307oJ7USeZ_Y5utP_yPtrdD5PN13JvrmRUgIXPd0NsVZa9jbih4QjPMeb_dLfD1P4fncdmGnrrl2Dt3ageqLvjq74nI-Ryew7EmAuupHcrwl-hLR3MwLIHe/s1600/sue.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="243" data-original-width="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNVQIMNPFZcnvsImy-x4nU9307oJ7USeZ_Y5utP_yPtrdD5PN13JvrmRUgIXPd0NsVZa9jbih4QjPMeb_dLfD1P4fncdmGnrrl2Dt3ageqLvjq74nI-Ryew7EmAuupHcrwl-hLR3MwLIHe/s1600/sue.png" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;">Check this out for more information: </span><i><span style="color: #103cc0; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 120%;"><a href="https://www.copyright.gov/circs/circ15a.pdf">Copyright Circular 15a</a></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 120%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Enjoy & In Joy!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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Sandra Miller Linharthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763775906422263427noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4153662350992018945.post-40066261042517952832017-09-19T10:44:00.001-06:002018-04-13T14:10:38.371-06:00It's all how you look at itI believe good writers have superpowers mere mortals don't possess. Well, not really. But close.<br />
<br />
When you dig deep into a book by your favorite author, he or she guides you down paths of intrigue, romance, and fear... which sometimes lead to worlds yet unknown to you, the reader.<br />
<br />
A decent writer has more than one character, usually, therefore has more than one perspective of the situation he or she is creating from thin air. Yes. We are gods.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFMeoke62a9m3jtI_uCTK25v-12frDfwks7RXtqVCF8h8OgP9pZ95gg-L9J8MB5IqSDpWvyJmBIDMatFh-oRlBGJTFJFkyI4cnVbc_0wk1Xnamk9qgtNxHGGXxfi43-5585f8gbW_rSB4j/s1600/seriously.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="225" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFMeoke62a9m3jtI_uCTK25v-12frDfwks7RXtqVCF8h8OgP9pZ95gg-L9J8MB5IqSDpWvyJmBIDMatFh-oRlBGJTFJFkyI4cnVbc_0wk1Xnamk9qgtNxHGGXxfi43-5585f8gbW_rSB4j/s400/seriously.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gods who are not to be taken seriously.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Consider point of view for a second. We can use yesterday's blog as an example. I offered a story about the one who got away. I recounted the memory from my personal experience and point of view. I have no earthly idea how he felt about our situation. Truth be told, he might have despised me. Who knows?<br />
He does.<br />
Or, did.<br />
We're not even sure if he remembers me, are we? He and I almost happened nearly thirty years ago.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbrR5kaRZecV-iTcfbXJfP-x8BVX0RUW_cQ6Jvb6W6W6VfWOqKV6zLrfRQWYehyphenhyphenIHjG9pfhSfIIJWCaQzzvkA6XhbWbuF6DF9HPnbHqpDwCGWTUQtzRMrZBX08fq288NEGD9soIqreyfoQ/s1600/the+80s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="203" data-original-width="248" height="327" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbrR5kaRZecV-iTcfbXJfP-x8BVX0RUW_cQ6Jvb6W6W6VfWOqKV6zLrfRQWYehyphenhyphenIHjG9pfhSfIIJWCaQzzvkA6XhbWbuF6DF9HPnbHqpDwCGWTUQtzRMrZBX08fq288NEGD9soIqreyfoQ/s400/the+80s.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We didn't even know how to dress then.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
From my perspective, he and I had the beginnings of a happily ever after. What went wrong? No idea, but does it matter? If you're going to write a book about my failed relationships, you'll more than likely want to have me be the main character and use my point of view when writing. You'll start with my thoughts and memories; how they pop up from time to time - but only the good ones because humans don't like to remember the bad stuff. Maybe that's just me.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheOBDt6fcKLT7h-yGJUpb8OHQx5mpWbxvK_sr9xbXS3Y2EhRZsUY5EqcF9GDxdVo7lcOA7Q6buaAvclt32FKd_j9PcLJuvQ6SpmnBXy7prZqS5xh9sTHVCMTA-K2jVJPeYaxEJ_uC3LFvq/s1600/just+the+bad+ones.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="201" data-original-width="251" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheOBDt6fcKLT7h-yGJUpb8OHQx5mpWbxvK_sr9xbXS3Y2EhRZsUY5EqcF9GDxdVo7lcOA7Q6buaAvclt32FKd_j9PcLJuvQ6SpmnBXy7prZqS5xh9sTHVCMTA-K2jVJPeYaxEJ_uC3LFvq/s400/just+the+bad+ones.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...just the bad ones, please.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
So, first person narrative maybe? You start out in my head, writing my thoughts, smelling, seeing, tasting, sensing the world through my eye-filters, processing information through my limited brain. You quite literally write from my perspective. You can't imagine or discover what another character is thinking or feeling or seeing. You have no omniscient knowledge that isn't already present in my brain. You can't see any emotions or reactions on my face - unless you have me, as your character looking in a reflective glass or image of some sort. You can't see anything or anyone coming up behind me - nothing that isn't directly in my field of vision. That's why you need to know "me" top to bottom, inside and out. You need to figure out why I'm a single woman of fifty-five, who lives alone without cats. Why do relationships scare me, and do I have trust issues? Why would I rather do things myself than ask for help? If you don't know me personally, that's okay. This is why we call it fiction. But in order for you to write about me, you need to feel you know me better than you know yourself. You may want to put some of your own fears and insecurities in the mix to make it easier to connect with the writing.<br />
<br />
Now you have to ask yourself, do you want to write a story strictly from my point of view?<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghWZ4N-A3t3euMggMtYfeKNx-Wexuc4bf_p6SrK9jIEPXaRF4dj8F9SdJAk1OKjofi3i8x3AmitFtn3B6slCCHBz_ah003yqNcHE2Dkh3WKFHIs5QXRSyA00F-Ft5BunFUd4QVn_B6QRye/s1600/tunnel+vision.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="194" data-original-width="259" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghWZ4N-A3t3euMggMtYfeKNx-Wexuc4bf_p6SrK9jIEPXaRF4dj8F9SdJAk1OKjofi3i8x3AmitFtn3B6slCCHBz_ah003yqNcHE2Dkh3WKFHIs5QXRSyA00F-Ft5BunFUd4QVn_B6QRye/s400/tunnel+vision.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yawn!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
So, you have a secondary character. Let's say TOWGA is our SC. I've not really told you much about him, but let's give him the moniker, Erik. We can only see Erik from my POV. We can hear what he tells me and see what he does in front of me. We can feel his strong, yet gentle arms around me. We can feel his velvet lips as they press into mine and how they linger over parts of my body; his shallow, warm breath as it momentarily cools the places his tongue touches. We can feel how his skin brushes mine, causing goosebumps to grow under his heat. We can smell his cologne and sense how it ignites my desire...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6xH7FImWz9LyTgY4bVZKeA6hiAkAVIEKHCkz4TQKmWwBQsxhVA_fK43oguo1cwUpv38CB36eau_WnMeV_WLBVZozCzp5HXpdMfRV2QQ4zutE4BgukMqXH26JjCJiqLelAgDgwkLElRrF1/s1600/yum.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="142" data-original-width="355" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6xH7FImWz9LyTgY4bVZKeA6hiAkAVIEKHCkz4TQKmWwBQsxhVA_fK43oguo1cwUpv38CB36eau_WnMeV_WLBVZozCzp5HXpdMfRV2QQ4zutE4BgukMqXH26JjCJiqLelAgDgwkLElRrF1/s400/yum.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
But what we can't do is know what he's thinking or feeling. We can't hear his inner dialogue. Unless we write, also, from his POV. Now, what you absolutely don't want to do is scramble the eggs, here. IF you're going to write from his POV, too, you'll need to separate the brains.<br />
<br />
[was going to put a graphic, but that shit's disgusting]<br />
<br />
For instance, maybe write each POV in a different section or chapter. Make it obvious to the reader that the POV has changed from one head to the other; the camera has moved from my brain to Erik's.<br />
<br />
One of the best movies to tackle change of POV (in my humble opinion) is <i><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0102011/?ref_=ttpl_pl_tt">He Said, She Said</a></i>, in which the POV is dramatically shifted by a flying coffee cup slamming into Dan's forehead.<br />
<br />
This blog could probably go on for days because there are multiple POVs from which to choose. I have barely scratched the surface, but Imma gonna stop you right here because...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheov17Aai7CHkpuKCLEYR2w046KBExqCcmb-WPwwqpqv5Zme4EXzqj7vcBf0swJeJb55tBfBZPnEaS33XPQuGIGs431cnsM96REteiQUaNTqAshyUu75WSIFmTH5fwIXOgsFGClZN9EWQI/s1600/angtft.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="167" data-original-width="302" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheov17Aai7CHkpuKCLEYR2w046KBExqCcmb-WPwwqpqv5Zme4EXzqj7vcBf0swJeJb55tBfBZPnEaS33XPQuGIGs431cnsM96REteiQUaNTqAshyUu75WSIFmTH5fwIXOgsFGClZN9EWQI/s400/angtft.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Point of View, aka perspective can make or break your novel. If you don't get it down, and down right, your audience will fall off your wordy merry-go-round dizzy as hell. Instead, here are a few good resources to get you headed down the right path:<br />
<br />
<i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/0759214360">The Fiction Writer's Toolkit</a></i> by Bob Mayer (I think he has a newer version out - The Novel Writer's Toolkit - but I've not read it).<br />
<i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/1599632128">Characters & Viewpoints</a></i> by Orson Scott Card<br />
<i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/0312254210">Stein on Writing</a></i> by Sol Stein<br />
<br />
Respect your readers by giving them their money's worth. Learn your craft, love what you do, and others will love it, too.<br />
<br />
Cheers!Sandra Miller Linharthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763775906422263427noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4153662350992018945.post-46345287005502154172017-09-18T11:27:00.002-06:002023-08-30T09:14:20.809-06:00Do You Love to Write, or Write to Love?Some days it feels almost impossible to get down to the nitty-gritty of writing. Today is unfortunately one of those days.<br />
<br />
The weather's been a bit brisker as of late. I noticed it on my morning walk. The sun has yet to warm up my little section of the planet or my cold fingers.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_XGizsgeSvidBCCp7Knyj2aLHV7aLb-LcZYt6Jr5320UenMLmy2fExXnQUrpM58ET3lvf98X7qv0P3wEpspd6d9h1SP_xovFtH8QttJ5s3pHdDXr6i4HxT52HsKi97RO6C2i0xwUQhU_b/s1600/leaves+falling.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="170" data-original-width="296" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_XGizsgeSvidBCCp7Knyj2aLHV7aLb-LcZYt6Jr5320UenMLmy2fExXnQUrpM58ET3lvf98X7qv0P3wEpspd6d9h1SP_xovFtH8QttJ5s3pHdDXr6i4HxT52HsKi97RO6C2i0xwUQhU_b/s400/leaves+falling.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And the trees are shedding their summer attire.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
This weekend as I textured and painted my living room walls, I allowed my thoughts to once again wander back almost twenty-eight(ish) years ago and to the one man whom I (I can say with certainty...probably) truly loved. Timing apparently wasn't right for us and it all just, I don't know - dissipated, maybe? I'd been struggling with that question all day yesterday, and finally went to bed with the admission that it's true: people enter our lives for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. He must have been either a reason or a seasonal lover. I wish circumstances had been more accommodating for a lifetime one--he would've made a good one. I've wondered about him over the years. I also wonder why a week can't go by without thoughts of him popping into my mind. And I wonder what I did to deserve that particular type of hell.<br />
<br />
I hope he's living a fulfilling and loving life--he deserves nothing less. I'd best stop writing about him or risk breaking out in Adele or Taylor Swift song lyrics.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjvuA96PbgVvS_r9FT9WdrC3uZN5PqG85zrqBwbVKuHEtefEnVgMrwagafSQi4fKESJTavJNbO12C6oM6egJhutZI53hRZVGk10NSnBlbsbRyh8XKhyphenhyphenzt-5YQC0YEaUtRzmm-0zBKaWPJn/s1600/adele+and+taylor.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="191" data-original-width="265" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjvuA96PbgVvS_r9FT9WdrC3uZN5PqG85zrqBwbVKuHEtefEnVgMrwagafSQi4fKESJTavJNbO12C6oM6egJhutZI53hRZVGk10NSnBlbsbRyh8XKhyphenhyphenzt-5YQC0YEaUtRzmm-0zBKaWPJn/s400/adele+and+taylor.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
We have our niches in which to write, so <i>they </i>tell us. I predominantly pen children's books. I find it rewarding and calming. I started writing mainstream fiction while still in high school. I shared my short stories with my closest friends, who always asked for more. It became my drug--my reason. I've yet to publish a true fiction novel. Hopefully that changes this year.<br />
<br />
At the same time I published <i>Daddy's Boots</i>, I started writing <i>Living with L.V. Brown</i> and have been working on it ever since. The problem with novels, especially fiction novels (for me) is you can't tell when you're done. I had a college professor once who told me, "When you can't make it better, that's when you know you're done."<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9nhv_aRL4xjcHb-QzbX7csesQ2aqZQpaPycFfj6TvypnXKCEXdN0zf-fEYskjtJ7o094mp6Ct8zTe6ZOfqhYmC9OitXaJ2LXwiZXl3c4tlSrhG5Q_4WDJITuQESDXSdnsoTZd_1yBuOBM/s1600/or+manuscript.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="213" data-original-width="236" height="361" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9nhv_aRL4xjcHb-QzbX7csesQ2aqZQpaPycFfj6TvypnXKCEXdN0zf-fEYskjtJ7o094mp6Ct8zTe6ZOfqhYmC9OitXaJ2LXwiZXl3c4tlSrhG5Q_4WDJITuQESDXSdnsoTZd_1yBuOBM/s400/or+manuscript.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Great... except I always think I can make it just a little bit better, so...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Another professor said, "There's going to be a point in your writing where you have to say, 'this is good enough' and walk away. But don't walk away for good. Come back to it in about a month and see if you still think it's good enough. If it is, you know it's done." Not really having any luck with that suggestion, either.<br />
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It is what it is, I suppose. It'll be done when it tells me it's done.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfZHarqKyd_eGVMVdaIhkwB1q7csMMc872BLcabtUoorMr9s8n2b0EBwPcTw97Oqq2gCon3MLq1cEB0nQ7BxQeAqS0SxyAxYf2n9S73iVd_4b94xAeDN9qKI6pK2oLHK2CzmfykOTO2iPk/s1600/fork+in+it.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="275" data-original-width="183" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfZHarqKyd_eGVMVdaIhkwB1q7csMMc872BLcabtUoorMr9s8n2b0EBwPcTw97Oqq2gCon3MLq1cEB0nQ7BxQeAqS0SxyAxYf2n9S73iVd_4b94xAeDN9qKI6pK2oLHK2CzmfykOTO2iPk/s320/fork+in+it.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>
<br />
Like love, maybe?<br />
The words between you melt away so you think it's done...but maybe it wasn't supposed to be a short story. Perhaps it was supposed to be a full-length romance novel, and that's why you can't get him out of your head. Maybe you both closed the book too soon, when so much more needed to be written. Perhaps coming back to it... yeah, I guess I'll never know.<br />
<br />
And, hey, my niches are children's books and (hopefully) mainstream fiction. I question my skills at creating a good romance novel, anyway.<br />
<br />
In Joy & Enjoy<br />
<br />Sandra Miller Linharthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763775906422263427noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4153662350992018945.post-91547712414248889322017-08-10T09:42:00.000-06:002017-12-24T13:02:17.419-07:00Off with the Old<div style="text-align: justify;">
Purging:</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgReDojQBgOcnnJyURfjn5SuzKVTmU9a9fYsiwKmVNShLmXU_n9O7JJmZYx401wxFfV9c6oWwVO4sKEK2UMRuTLcN8DYM8Aw7j3w-F6V3zpym_-07WZOPHrBb2WLZJ1nwgrNMAj_VjTaMyr/s1600/shift.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="174" data-original-width="290" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgReDojQBgOcnnJyURfjn5SuzKVTmU9a9fYsiwKmVNShLmXU_n9O7JJmZYx401wxFfV9c6oWwVO4sKEK2UMRuTLcN8DYM8Aw7j3w-F6V3zpym_-07WZOPHrBb2WLZJ1nwgrNMAj_VjTaMyr/s400/shift.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The best process one can undertake when one feels a shift in consciousness.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="text-align: justify;">Recently a program fell </span><span style="text-align: justify;">(figuratively)</span><span style="text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="text-align: justify;">into my lap which literally changed my perceptions, and therefore my life. I don't recall how I stumbled upon it. I'd heard it mentioned here and there -- like a side-note, or a post script -- but never got the gumption to investigate it further. Then one day something clicked, and my entire outlook on life and love changed in one distinct moment.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjLjfHZLcgcU2Hdw3FO9s30Dggjye_7jzV_ohldIiRWP_PBbJB0w81iNLM50usKW-gCTVxy0vCmsl6jvH80tAjPW-BgJ6DYu7KANShUSKfERGS0t8yAIEK5oDW_rWmwCAkLt776MkS6PBR/s1600/stumble.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="192" data-original-width="262" height="293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjLjfHZLcgcU2Hdw3FO9s30Dggjye_7jzV_ohldIiRWP_PBbJB0w81iNLM50usKW-gCTVxy0vCmsl6jvH80tAjPW-BgJ6DYu7KANShUSKfERGS0t8yAIEK5oDW_rWmwCAkLt776MkS6PBR/s400/stumble.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And when I say stumble...</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
I'm not going to bore you with details or my own personal journey, but I am going to reach out to anyone I may have insulted or abused within these blog posts. Although inadvertent on my part -- or at least I told myself it was, disguised as biting humor, sarcastic or sardonic commentary, or deeply meaningful insights -- I do sincerely apologize. We live, we grow, we learn. I hope you find a way to forgive me. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif4CQkpTSIjN_EukC6IpmIkXlOT8bzABe9rZAynD-rsynXo5nhzV6V4dzd-Ue8eKkxWlKtXp6IBXyw5U3C7FfaV4nVvYVdCz2KTi40JlxSy6tbNxwrCrGnMiMTDs6H1QA50vK5niRRF7LX/s1600/forgiveness.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif4CQkpTSIjN_EukC6IpmIkXlOT8bzABe9rZAynD-rsynXo5nhzV6V4dzd-Ue8eKkxWlKtXp6IBXyw5U3C7FfaV4nVvYVdCz2KTi40JlxSy6tbNxwrCrGnMiMTDs6H1QA50vK5niRRF7LX/s400/forgiveness.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
I've known for the majority of my life we draw into our lives the people and experiences we need to grow as infinite beings. I finally fully understand this concept. If at one point you were in my life, it's because we both needed to learn a lesson. My lesson was undoubtedly different than yours, but both of us (hopefully) became richer from our mutual experience(s). For that I am grateful. All life experiences, especially the tough ones, help create who we are, and who we will become. Therefore I am most grateful to people in my life who have caused me the most pain and suffering. I am also very grateful you are no longer part of my life, because, honestly, who needs <i>that </i>much negativity in their life?</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD9PA0O6rz9WgwN5U1FtbakGkrVfFqFSN6NF5sxlvRJqmloGcKrM-zwzP5iBuSxMswGFatvztK3CBIhTocNRt2z69oZ9rU-g1CARbHJ2qDQMnahLu2NmcnX8_aDUDR5rCVbqr-g7I5rklP/s1600/positivity.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="276" data-original-width="183" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD9PA0O6rz9WgwN5U1FtbakGkrVfFqFSN6NF5sxlvRJqmloGcKrM-zwzP5iBuSxMswGFatvztK3CBIhTocNRt2z69oZ9rU-g1CARbHJ2qDQMnahLu2NmcnX8_aDUDR5rCVbqr-g7I5rklP/s400/positivity.jpg" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You, no doubt, feel the same about me.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
If it calls to you, please investigate <a href="http://www.tappingsolutionfoundation.org/">The Tapping Solution</a> -- <a href="https://www.thetappingsolution.com/">Emotional Freeing Technique (EFT)</a>, and listen or subscribe to <a href="https://www.tonyrobbins.com/">Tony Robbins</a> (on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/TonyRobbins/">Facebook</a>). If you're in a place where these messages reach you emotionally or spiritually, you'll be glad you did. If you're already a student, you know of what I'm talking. I've been a fan of Tony's for years now, (as well as <a href="http://www.louisehay.com/">Louise L. Hay</a>, <a href="http://www.drwaynedyer.com/">Wayne Dyer</a>, and <a href="http://www.abraham-hicks.com/lawofattractionsource/index.php">Abraham Hicks</a>) but Tony's message is resonating more with me now than ever before. I told someone in an interview recently I want to swim in Tony's pool, and I will someday. I don't know how or when -- </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgufLtYPT4wom3MYDImITQiLqvrv23HHpddiusholNBhtEWq-xh3NJfXJ1zxJKGkFrgjjM-8fKOXVTLFFxFBcJB0JMSrVhwQQTSBJK-v-XDQs-K4Y7lZ509P0KgKdO0Xaol-b4LYYo8ybTJ/s1600/TR+pool.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgufLtYPT4wom3MYDImITQiLqvrv23HHpddiusholNBhtEWq-xh3NJfXJ1zxJKGkFrgjjM-8fKOXVTLFFxFBcJB0JMSrVhwQQTSBJK-v-XDQs-K4Y7lZ509P0KgKdO0Xaol-b4LYYo8ybTJ/s400/TR+pool.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">maybe they'll ask me to house sit</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
-- but I know I will. Eventually.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I have a good life, and am grateful -- from the bottom of my heart. My books have won multiple awards and <a href="http://www.thejennyevolution.com/childrens-books-on-sensory-processing-disorder/">are</a> <a href="https://www.pinterest.dk/pin/223843043953402707/">mentioned</a> <a href="https://coe.k-state.edu/military/docs/Military-Connected-Learning-books.pdf">in</a> <a href="https://www.verywell.com/when-a-parent-is-deployed-1448714">plethora</a> <a href="http://www.operationwearehere.com/ChildrenBooks.html">articles</a>. I'm humbly proud of the messages and comfort they provide children. I endeavor to remain worthy of the title: award-winning author. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
From this point forward the focus of this blog will therefore be on writing, my works, and tips of the trade. It's been said if you do something for fifteen years, you become an expert. So, here I stand -- apparently your resident expert, of sorts. Drop me a line (<a href="mailto:sandra@sandstarbooks.com">sandra@sandstarbooks.com</a>) or leave a question in the comments section. I'm here for you. </div>
<br />
Thanks for being here for me.<br />
In Light & LoveSandra Miller Linharthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763775906422263427noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4153662350992018945.post-72464863108284134252017-06-07T17:15:00.001-06:002017-08-10T07:55:55.253-06:00Aw... shucks. Hearing nice things said about your book(s) from an uninterested party pretty much makes the world go 'round. I mean, my mother always gushes about my creations, but she's supposed to, right?<br />
<br />
Imagine my pleasant shock and surprise when I see my titles show up on stranger's blogs, websites, or mentioned in articles.<br />
<br />
For the military family - the boots books series:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/1938505190" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzLLnELp07z9HihFOaW3LinxKkhneXwTbrQSVKSyAmQLbFRb9zmIZ67Fk_BboYpXY5MAmgtI_G4M0c_JTBXptzugxgVtbDoXT5knP5GKzMWo06VNUe-GH1DIn4lr4w4TOsxUNiJ026hOkk/s320/Daddys+Boots+%2528New%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/1938505190" target="_blank">deployment book</a> for Daddies to read to their child(ren)..</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<i><a href="http://livelovetexas.com/12-veterans-day-books-for-kids/" target="_blank">12 Veterans Day Books for Kids</a></i> features none other than the above favorite, <i><b><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/1938505190" target="_blank">Daddy's Boots</a></b></i>.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b><i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/1938505190" target="_blank">Daddy's Boots</a></i></b> is included in the top five "<i><a href="http://sarahsandifer.com/resources/" target="_blank">best books for military kids</a> to help them THRIVE within this military life...</i>"<br />
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<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGlN0S3nAhEbcu40o3fqj5vMFzC188iokg96MDrIIQVgRYY-tBe_m2OQa7AsSja_kWYUwYvQR3I-NHYWgqEgk5XBC8fXf4iwa3cBEzuLdMZNkSWdRI88-xncQOlhT7Q29DrOXMPdOP_ub3/s1600/BWI_300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGlN0S3nAhEbcu40o3fqj5vMFzC188iokg96MDrIIQVgRYY-tBe_m2OQa7AsSja_kWYUwYvQR3I-NHYWgqEgk5XBC8fXf4iwa3cBEzuLdMZNkSWdRI88-xncQOlhT7Q29DrOXMPdOP_ub3/s320/BWI_300.jpg" width="319" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/0984512721" target="_blank">book</a> to address anxiety when Daddy's headed home.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<b><a href="http://www.operationwearehere.com/" target="_blank">Operation We Are Here</a></b> gives a shout-out to <i><b><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/1938505190" target="_blank">Daddy's Boots</a></b></i> and <b><i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/0984512721" target="_blank">But...What If?</a></i></b> in their article, <i><a href="http://www.operationwearehere.com/ChildrenBooks.html" target="_blank">Books for military children with a deployed father.</a></i><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Another article, <a href="http://confidentcounselors.com/2017/04/03/9-books-help-military-children/" target="_blank">9 Books to Help Military Children</a> lists <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/0984512721" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;" target="_blank">But...What If?</a><i style="font-weight: bold;">, </i>and says about it, "<i>Homecomings are often – and for good reason – painted in a celebratory light. In this book, however, the author highlights some of the worries children might experience and be hesitant to voice as deployments come to an end. This is a great book to begin exploring feelings and expectations as homecoming day approaches.</i>"<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6nAHpoOQvpzhG6dq3JWtY2DXctMzmnwnx5HQ5dmaHH66-msf44rRA8ldMGNig-yXJAD3qsqmP7nbbiy8CCK8suh4DxLQ1tBYIOkzvrzhxy5ckxf82nGSt-YDHfAzMJcR2sIskj_bqwG0g/s1600/GWI_300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1574" data-original-width="1600" height="314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6nAHpoOQvpzhG6dq3JWtY2DXctMzmnwnx5HQ5dmaHH66-msf44rRA8ldMGNig-yXJAD3qsqmP7nbbiy8CCK8suh4DxLQ1tBYIOkzvrzhxy5ckxf82nGSt-YDHfAzMJcR2sIskj_bqwG0g/s320/GWI_300.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/098451273X" target="_blank">book</a> to address anxiety when Momma's headed home.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<b><a href="http://www.operationwearehere.com/" target="_blank">Operation We Are Here</a></b> also gives <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/0984512713" target="_blank"><b><i>Momma's Boot</i></b>s</a> and <b><i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/098451273X" target="_blank">Grandpa, What If?</a></i></b> a shout-out in <i><a href="http://www.operationwearehere.com/ChildrenBooksDeployedMother.html" target="_blank">Books for military children with a deployed mother.</a></i><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFyobmVTKl7YbT0-GO4fCJwfxsZijfwAAmjFaX3ZUdmBK1M48e_y_Opv9ZTmyVx5b_l4bD4QeEN2mqS73S6vwJTzKJAOsYE7x8TpUQYiIBL5HeGBfPx7ajEdh1iLReX219Bp86mvcqEg51/s1600/MB+300+dpi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFyobmVTKl7YbT0-GO4fCJwfxsZijfwAAmjFaX3ZUdmBK1M48e_y_Opv9ZTmyVx5b_l4bD4QeEN2mqS73S6vwJTzKJAOsYE7x8TpUQYiIBL5HeGBfPx7ajEdh1iLReX219Bp86mvcqEg51/s320/MB+300+dpi.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">A <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/0984512713" target="_blank">deployment book</a> for Mommies to read to their child(ren).</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b><i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/0984512713" target="_blank">Momma's Boots</a></i></b> also garners a proud mention on the <i><a href="http://www.easterseals.com/shared-components/document-library/women-veteran-resource-list.pdf" target="_blank">Women Veterans, their Spouses, Caregivers & Family Members Resource List.</a></i></div>
<div>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div>
...And the list is growing. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Another of my books that makes the headlines(ish) is <b><i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/193850500X" target="_blank">Pickysaurus Mac</a></i></b>. Proud of this little book, too, I am. It's given practically dozens of individuals with <a href="https://www.spdstar.org/basic/about-spd" target="_blank">Sensory Processing Disorder</a> a book to call his or her own.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
An awesome review by <i><a href="http://growingbookbybook.com/books-for-kids-picky-eaters/" target="_blank">Growing Book by Book</a></i> on <b><i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/193850500X" target="_blank">Pickysaurus Mac</a></i></b> states, "<i>...is one of very few books I could find that addresses the sensory challenges that some children deal with at mealtime.</i>"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And another from <a href="https://eyaslanding.com/blog-sensory-processing-books-for-kids/" target="_blank"><i>Eyas Landing</i></a>: "<i>This clever book encourages children to experience new textures in a safe, unenforced environment that increases sensory tolerance and lets them know that other kids share the same discomfort with food</i>."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtHQ421A-TyI0Fy1rFqGNo2ZkKXj8Sr77YBtGCy_2cuEv0HRplHAi0LhBh3_oNEWdgC6pnXvBOT75ILtH_QxYdjG3ny0LhyphenhyphenNB9C4UnaWIRd-_rtvlkboI9Ol1QF4VGgmjDTupfgHpg1c6k/s1600/Pickysaurus+Mac+300.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtHQ421A-TyI0Fy1rFqGNo2ZkKXj8Sr77YBtGCy_2cuEv0HRplHAi0LhBh3_oNEWdgC6pnXvBOT75ILtH_QxYdjG3ny0LhyphenhyphenNB9C4UnaWIRd-_rtvlkboI9Ol1QF4VGgmjDTupfgHpg1c6k/s320/Pickysaurus+Mac+300.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/193850500X" target="_blank">Mac </a>can't find anything to eat to save his life.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Though, I'd be remiss if I failed to mention Mac's friend, <b><i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/1938505174" target="_blank">Brooke, and her icky picky sister</a></i></b> - a newer addition to my family of books. So new, in fact, nothing has been written on or about it (or I'd have added it)... pretty sure only my mother has purchased it to date. But, that's okay. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXwbetX62NW8qzZ-Rq-65Eb8Vy5m6EVWAQHhZXegs9-ArMDVPJsXK54plj9fq0RfFDpciuoMGfgfLKtvp2G5Ew3hWSH0hO2Pb6DZu-50ONZOaml8OUFJk1lBqVY0Mz2U8M7J4iZy6FTYbI/s1600/Brooke.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1219" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXwbetX62NW8qzZ-Rq-65Eb8Vy5m6EVWAQHhZXegs9-ArMDVPJsXK54plj9fq0RfFDpciuoMGfgfLKtvp2G5Ew3hWSH0hO2Pb6DZu-50ONZOaml8OUFJk1lBqVY0Mz2U8M7J4iZy6FTYbI/s320/Brooke.jpg" width="243" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Add it to your wish list today!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
There you have it. Endorsements from people I don't know who don't know me. It gives this author a great deal of encouragement, I can attest to that. I appreciate every shout-out. </div>
<div>
<br />
Thanks for reading.</div>
<div>
<br />
Enjoy & In Joy<br />
<br /></div>
Sandra Miller Linharthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763775906422263427noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4153662350992018945.post-7338052275220129762015-05-03T09:18:00.001-06:002017-08-10T07:57:08.186-06:00Don't Label Me<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
I am pleased and proud to announce my new picture book, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/1938505123/" target="_blank">Don't Label Me</a>:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmub1-rB3JUw4Ok-CzPiJEUv_-ubzascJ90MaYu3RRBMjBTtIlFGrQgChFfvmhc6O69TbhBE6-z7kQXhEvBXWZxP9lcZvUBjhz5vW_q3Mqt5bxY7nL9UQ7oOjXKV2EuKl5LH-W7DSdBzDH/s1600/2015.02.17-DLM-Front_Cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="397" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmub1-rB3JUw4Ok-CzPiJEUv_-ubzascJ90MaYu3RRBMjBTtIlFGrQgChFfvmhc6O69TbhBE6-z7kQXhEvBXWZxP9lcZvUBjhz5vW_q3Mqt5bxY7nL9UQ7oOjXKV2EuKl5LH-W7DSdBzDH/s1600/2015.02.17-DLM-Front_Cover.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
The artwork is amazing, too.<br />
<br />
Enjoy & In Joy<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Sandra Miller Linharthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763775906422263427noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4153662350992018945.post-19969377296457136232014-06-10T22:19:00.001-06:002017-08-10T07:58:09.168-06:00Frustration<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I wrap my fingers around you.<br />
I've longed for the feel of you in my hands; your hardness pleases me.<br />
I caress you while I imagine the heights you'll take me.<br />
<br />
I slide you in...<br />
I slide you out, ever... so... slowly...<br />
I position you... I pause...<br />
<br />
My heart beats a bit faster. My breath catches.<br />
I bite my lip.<br />
<br />
I'm not quite ready. It's been a while...<br />
<br />
Slower... we have time.<br />
<br />
I slide you in, and hold you there.<br />
The seconds pass. I sense your energy - our potential...<br />
I dare not move for fear of ruining this perfect moment.<br />
<br />
I slide you out.<br />
I bring you to my lips; my tongue plays with your tip and my lips barely dance across your shaft. My mind is already where we could be together.<br />
<br />
Okay. I'm ready.<br />
<br />
I place your tip in the proper position and slowly move with you... and with every stroke I become more excited, more alive... more me. My passion pours out through you.<br />
Each stroke melds us, you and I. Entangled in a divine purpose, fate brought us together.<br />
I feel your power as you allow me to guide you. My hunger builds.<br />
<br />
Our strokes come faster now, more powerful; raw with desire.<br />
My mind races; my heart pounds, I grip you tighter.. I am lost in the moment with you...<br />
The phone screams from its cradle...<br />
<br />
...My passion evaporates; gone.<br />
<br />
I slide you back into your cap.<br />
I place you on our half-written page...<br />
<br />
There will be no more writing today.<br />
<br /></div>
Sandra Miller Linharthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763775906422263427noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4153662350992018945.post-5494480011249260002011-02-20T14:27:00.002-07:002017-08-10T07:59:15.968-06:00In sickness...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOSet9Ig9juqflMDucyMvJlt4RwtdudFgMROZDUBXEKsigKgzJgNpGVn1w0INXenIzhZNZuarEC4AVo9Q4E3w1JiZjXp5_G-rjK1TLgh4WcRuPlqxuYM8NrHI1Hs8kvFPq-id7rOmYqaP6/s1600/sick.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOSet9Ig9juqflMDucyMvJlt4RwtdudFgMROZDUBXEKsigKgzJgNpGVn1w0INXenIzhZNZuarEC4AVo9Q4E3w1JiZjXp5_G-rjK1TLgh4WcRuPlqxuYM8NrHI1Hs8kvFPq-id7rOmYqaP6/s400/sick.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
I ache.<br />
I shiver.<br />
I flush cold with fever.<br />
I nestle my shoulder deep<br />
into the warm cave of your armpit.<br />
My heavy head finds soft purchase<br />
in the valley between your shoulder and chest.<br />
Your strong arm tenderly cradles my back.<br />
The cadence of your breath lulls me...<br />
I sleep.<br />
I dream.<br />
I heal in your love.<br />
<br />
As the bonds of sleep release me<br />
I slowly awaken.<br />
Your arm morphs into my blanket.<br />
I stir.<br />
Your chest reveals itself as my pillow.<br />
I rise.<br />
My shoulder has no cave.<br />
<br />
I feel your absence.<br />
You exist only in my dreams.<br />
You've yet to enter my life.<br />
<br />
You.<br />
The one<br />
who'll snuggle me<br />
...in sickness and in health.Sandra Miller Linharthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763775906422263427noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4153662350992018945.post-61626661938417195772010-10-18T07:29:00.000-06:002017-08-10T08:00:19.994-06:00I'm told I don't come across well.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
There's a reason I seldom leave home.<br />
There's a reason I enjoy my solitude.<br />
There's a reason I don't get close, and keep my distance.<br />
There's a reason...<br />
<br />
So, don't come into <i>my </i>world and tell me I'm rubbing <i>you </i>the wrong way.<br />
My world doesn't touch yours...<br />
and, I never invited you in.<br />
<br />
You click on the bookmark<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;">*no referring link*</span></span><br />
so you can find something which incites you<br />
between my words.<br />
<br />
You love to hate me.<br />
Me... the mother of your offspring?<br />
The one who got away?<br />
The reason for your failed relationships?<br />
The reason for your failed life?<br />
The reason you burnt your toast this morning?<br />
<br />
You think my words are directed at you.<br />
You anon yourself into my blog.<br />
You cajole and you quip;<br />
You twist and you turn and you lie<br />
safely<br />
warmly<br />
snuggly<br />
inside the blanket of a mask<br />
you stab me with your keyboard.<br />
<br />
You know who I am.<br />
I'm the reason you're miserable.<br />
I'm the reason you fight.<br />
I'm the reason you can't sleep at night.<br />
Me...without even trying.<br />
<br />
I<br />
am<br />
just<br />
sitting<br />
here<br />
putting<br />
one<br />
word<br />
after<br />
another<br />
on<br />
this<br />
page...<br />
<br />
You read the words and go berserk.<br />
"What a moron!; What a jerk!"<br />
"What a worthless piece of work!"<br />
<br />
So... stop reading my blog.<br />
<br />
I write to express, to talk, to feel...<br />
something.<br />
A gift I've not had access to in my non-virtual world,<br />
as I feel my soul slowly dying...<br />
like my skin - shriveling up and thinning; blotchy; tired<br />
<br />
...and so very much alone; untouched.<br />
<br />
Words I speak aloud are seldom heard;<br />
they fall to the floor and seep into the cracks<br />
where they cushion the soles<br />
of the people I pick up after.<br />
<br />
...until I put them down here<br />
and you read them<br />
and decide for yourself what I'm saying<br />
and it's never pretty...<br />
<br />
for you don't see me as pretty<br />
you can't see me as pretty<br />
you won't see me as pretty<br />
...on the inside<br />
<br />
I write for myself<br />
I write of my feelings, my thoughts and my fears.<br />
I don't write for you.<br />
<i>I don't</i> <i>know who you are</i>.<br />
<br />
Were we once friends?<br />
Did you once care?<br />
Because if so, I don't know you anymore...<br />
<br />
and you most certainly don't know me,<br />
...if you ever did.<br />
So, stop reading my blog.<br />
<br />
In Joy & Enjoy<br />
<br />
.</div>
Sandra Miller Linharthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763775906422263427noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4153662350992018945.post-71615718711535321122009-03-13T09:32:00.000-06:002017-08-10T08:02:16.525-06:00I love it when a plan…<div id="ms__id17">
<span style="color: #3333ff;"><span style="color: white;">…..</span>“Did you guys see th...?” I turned back to see I was standing alone in Blue’s front yard. I looked again at the sky above Grandfather’s ranch and saw nothing out of the ordinary. The snow fell silently. Except for the trail of white behind my eyelids when I closed my eyes, like an imprint of a camera flash, I would have never believed I saw anything. I ran toward Grandfather’s home.<br /><span style="color: white;">…..</span>I got almost completely through the field when I spotted Grandfather’s prize bull lying on the ground next to the water trough. Steam rose from its body. A strange chemical-type smell surrounded the still body of the bull.<br /><span style="color: white;">…..</span>“Nebesiibehe!!” I screamed through the silence. “Nebesiibehe!! Come quick! I think the bull got shocked.”<br /><span style="color: white;">…..</span>“What is it, Hono’ie Neeceeebi?” Grandfather emerged from the house, wiping his hands on a towel. He saw me standing next to the bull and came running toward me. He knelt down in the snow next to the bull.<br /><span style="color: white;">…..</span>“I haven’t seen anything like this since the summer of 1976.”<br /><span style="color: white;">…..</span>“Like what, Nebesiibehe?”<br /><span style="color: white;">…..</span>“See, here. Look where the bull is. There are no tracks, no prints leading up to this carcass. Except yours and mine. But the snow has... has poofed... yes, good word, poofed up like the bull was dropped from height of maybe two... three feet in the air. And, see, here, where the parts of bull have been surgically cut away... almost burnt, cauterized. No blood. No blood anywhere. And, he’s missing his eyes. And, his eyelashes...”<br /><span style="color: white;">…..</span>The white snow all around showed no signs of blood anywhere, not even under the animal. A shiver ran up my spine and I took a step back. The smell rising from the dead animal made me gag.<br /><span style="color: white;">…..</span>Grandfather took his Leatherman tool from his belt and opened the knife blade. He plunged it in and out of the bull’s neck easily, but no blood spilled from the wound. <br /><span style="color: white;">…..</span>“What does that mean, Nebesiibehe?” My hand still covered my mouth. <br /><span style="color: white;">…..</span>Grandfather stood up and looked into the sky, as if searching…<br /><br />That was an excerpt from my chapter book, The Elementary Adventures of Buck. Want to hear more? Buy the book! <span style="font-size: 85%;">hehehe</span> (Now available at a store near you - or you can click on the Target.com link on the left of this page.) That was easy.<br /><br />Now, if you find that just too out-there… read this:<br /></span><a href="http://www.chieftain.com/articles/2009/03/10/news/region/doc49b5fcf251ae5358562333.txt"><span style="color: #6600cc;">http://www.chieftain.com/articles/2009/03/10/news/region/doc49b5fcf251ae5358562333.txt</span></a><br />
<span style="color: #3333ff;"><span style="color: #6600cc;"><br /></span>(If you’re lazy, like me - It's a newspaper article from the Pueblo Chieftan dated 10 March 2009, and it starts out by saying: </span></div>
<div id="ms__id19">
<span style="color: #3333ff;">TRINIDAD - A cattle rancher made a horrific and mysterious discovery Sunday when he found the carcass of one of his cattle that was missing its udders and other female parts… </span></div>
<div id="ms__id20">
<span style="color: #3333ff;">...plus a lot more.)<br /><br />Enjoy & In Joy<br /><br />p(m)s. Hey - read my book! (please and thank you!)</span></div>
Sandra Miller Linharthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763775906422263427noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4153662350992018945.post-7064403411942695892008-09-13T07:32:00.000-06:002017-08-10T08:03:05.235-06:00Desiderata<div align="center" id="ms__id232">
<span style="color: #333399;">Go placidly amid the noise and haste,</span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id268">
<span style="color: #333399;">and remember what peace there may be in</span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id269">
<span style="color: #333399;">silence. As far as possible, without</span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id235">
<span style="color: #333399;">surrender, be on good terms with all persons.</span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id236">
<span style="color: #333399;">Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and</span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id237">
<span style="color: #333399;">listen to others, even to the dull and ignorant;</span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id234">
<span style="color: #333399;">they too have their story.</span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id233">
<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id217">
<span style="color: #333399;">Avoid loud and aggressive persons;</span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id238">
<span style="color: #333399;">the are vexatious to the spirit. If you</span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id240">
<span style="color: #333399;">compare yourself with others, you may</span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id241">
<span style="color: #333399;">become vain or bitter, for always there will be</span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id242">
<span style="color: #333399;">greater and lesser persons than yourself.</span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id239">
<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id243">
<span style="color: #333399;">Enjoy your achievements as well as your</span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id244">
<span style="color: #333399;">plans. Keep interested in your own career, </span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id245">
<span style="color: #333399;">however humble; it is a real possession in the</span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id247">
<span style="color: #333399;">changing fortunes of time. Exercise caution</span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id248">
<span style="color: #333399;">in your business affairs, for the world is full</span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id249">
<span style="color: #333399;">of trickery. But let this not blind you to what</span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id250">
<span style="color: #333399;">virtue there is; many persons strive for high</span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id251">
<span style="color: #333399;">ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism.</span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id246">
<span style="color: white;">,</span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id252">
<span style="color: #333399;">Be yourself. Especially do not feign</span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id253">
<span style="color: #333399;">affection. Neither be cynical about love; for</span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id254">
<span style="color: #333399;">in the face of all aridity and disenchantment,</span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id256">
<span style="color: #333399;">it is as perennial as the grass.</span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id255">
<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id257">
<span style="color: #333399;">Take kindly the counsel of the years,</span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id258">
<span style="color: #333399;">gracefully surrendering the things of youth.</span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id259">
<span style="color: #333399;">Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in</span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id260">
<span style="color: #333399;">sudden misfortune. But do not distress</span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id261">
<span style="color: #333399;">yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears</span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id262">
<span style="color: #333399;">are born of fatigue and loneliness.</span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id263">
<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id264">
<span style="color: #333399;">Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle</span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id265">
<span style="color: #333399;">with yourself. You are a child of the Universe</span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id266">
<span style="color: #333399;">no less than the trees and stars; you have</span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id267">
<span style="color: #333399;">a right to be here. And whether or not it is</span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id231">
<span style="color: #333399;">clear to you, no doubt the Universe is </span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id218">
<span style="color: #333399;">unfolding as it should.</span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id219">
<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id229">
<span style="color: #333399;">Therefore, be at peace with God, whatever</span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id228">
<span style="color: #333399;">you conceive Him to be. And whatever your</span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id230">
<span style="color: #333399;">labors and aspirations, in the noisy</span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id220">
<span style="color: #333399;">confusion of life, keep peace with your soul.</span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id221">
<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id222">
<span style="color: #333399;">With all its sham, drudgery and broken</span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id223">
<span style="color: #333399;">dreams, it is still a beautiful world.</span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id224">
<span style="color: #333399;">Be careful. Strive to be happy.</span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id225">
<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
<div align="center" id="ms__id226">
<em><span style="color: #333399;">~ Max Ehrmann</span></em></div>
Sandra Miller Linharthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763775906422263427noreply@blogger.com