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Dealing With Rejection

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Deciding  to be a full time writer requires discipline, vision, and direction.  There are daily challenges to your craft and the daily checking of your cognitivedissonancebrainmailbox and inbox.  Focus becomes your enemy in the beginning because there are so many distractions.  The biggest distraction is rejection letters.

          It is difficult, no matter how mature or evolved you feel you are to deal with someone telling you, that YOU are not good enough.  Adding insult, to personal injury, it is being written, addressed, and sent to you, to say, you are not worthy.

          When attempting to process these letters of hate and disgruntlement, I am faced with a word that was posted on Facebook by a friend, she simply stated “cognitive dissonance.” For those of us, a tad bit out of school, this is imagesCAQ26ZX9just a fancy term for sour grapes.  If we go back to Aesop’s fables, the story of the Fox & the Grapes, is indicative of cognitive dissonance.  Since the Fox couldn’t reach the grapes he concluded they were sour and he did not need them anyway.

I am feeling some kind of way about these rejection letters. I don’t want to just say that maybe those publishers are not right for me, because in my heart, I know they are not.  I just submitted because I needed to submit.  In all honesty, the work was not ready and it should have never been sent to anyone.

I am not going to have sour grapes because I am going to take to time to make it right. My skin will become thicker, my vision will become clearer and I am going to stay off Facebutt and TwitBook.  I have installed HootSuite, and loaded all my pages into this app to reduce my distractions and move forward in my writing life. 

This is my year.

This my craft.

This is my vision….

Ooooh….Facebutt post…..

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The Writings on Her Wall: A Facebook Novella, Entry #2

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Thank you for coming back to our ever evolving tale of the Facebook perv who was called for higher purpose. To update you, if you are not on board, please see my previous post on Exercising Your Writing Muscle for the beginning of this story.

Once more, here is the definition of a Facebook Perv.

Facebook perve : A person who goes on facebook, randomly reading peoples wall to walls, and later discussing what they read. (Courtesy of Urban Dictionary).

We rejoin the story in progress picking up from where we left off. For the purpose of continuity, I am including the last section from The Reader.
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Akins-Anderson Sydney: Sydney continued to stare at the computer screen, but he had long since stopped reading. His intuition had been correct. He was being watched, though until he knew by who he would act oblivious (He had his share of enemies). He sat a bit straighter in an effort to strain his peripheral vision-nothing. It was then that a new message appeared on the screen. He read it over, then re-read it. An encrypted code was neatly hidden between the words. The code was for a meeting. He made a mental show of thinking it over, but Sydney already knew the end result of such contemplation. He would go, if only to find out more about the woman (he was sure now that the aura he sense was that of a woman), and why there paths had crossed. A breeze passed behind him, and with it a feather light touch. He turned around, but saw nothing. She was gone. .

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Augusta Writers: She waited at the coffee house on Broad Street wondering if her new victim understood what he was supposed to do; adding another sugar to the coffee, it always started this way, the game of cat and mouse. Twirling the lock in her hand, she sniffed the faint strong scent of the Reader and enjoyed the smell. It was woodsy, manly with a hint of an average soap. This one was not pretentious like the last Reader. This one, had possibilities; this one could be it. Again, another sip of the bitter liquid as she replayed in her mind the new quest to ensure that writers would be heard in such a time of need. Her personal quest to make certain that this town would not fall victim again. He new reader needed to be strong. Her new Reader needed to be a man that was sure of himself. She needed a hero of sort, one unafraid of the challenge. She gasped when the shadow appeared at the window……
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Akins-Anderson Sydney: The morning air was laced with the strong scent of coffee and trepidation. Across the street loomed the Broad Street coffee house; the place they were to meet. Sydney took a deep breath of the crisp December air, and considered what he was getting into. In the message he had received yesterday, the woman had called herself simply ‘The Writer’. The title was enigmatic and seemed to hint at some esoteric knowledge. What did she write? Who did she write for? But most importantly, why did she want him? Those and many more questions tumbled about his mind like fire flies in a hurricane. Yet he knew there was only one way to get the answers he sought. High above an endless sheet of clouds blanketed the sky a lugubrious gray. Sydney had never been one for omens, but the weather was not optimistic.

Calm down, he mentally chided, stop taking cues from the weather. Encouraged by a cool breeze, he jammed his hands in his coat pockets and walked across the road. As a full time reader and part time writer Sydney had gotten into the habit of observing himself from an objective perspective. It helped keep him ground in reality when fantasy was so alluring. He found himself doing so now as a means of staying focused.
In his mind’s eye he saw himself walking across the road; a twenty two year old black guy wearing a gray coat and glasses over dark brown eyes. He was tall, six feet, and of medium build. On impulse he had shaved his head bald yesterday night, and as another spirited winter breeze chilled his scalp he found himself regretting it immensely.

It was halfway down the cross walk that he felt her aura emanating from the red brick building. It was strange, but not unpleasant. He likened it to the smell of white lotus, coffee (coincidently enough), and blood; sometimes sweet, sometimes bitter, yet always deadly. He slowed his pace when he reached the sidewalk and turned towards the door. It was then that he stopped. A lone form sat in a window booth. Sydney turned and faced The Writer.

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Augusta Writers: She held up one finger and gestured for him to enter; slightly turning, she eyed the Barista, bidding him to bring another cup of darkened courage. As The Writer crossed Broad Street, she knew it was him. There! He held the same strong demeanor and posture, but today, unlike yesterday, he was hairless. If the Reader chose to never regrow the locks of hair, she held in her fist, the last remaining curl of his Samsonian strength.

He was younger than she had imagined, but looked fit for the challenge. The glasses covered dark brown eyes that seem to read so much more than just her words. He entered the café and took a seat across the table from the Writer. The waiter arrived with his coffee and he was surprised to find it was the way he liked it, or at least she ordered what she thought she saw him drinking at the Internet Café before.

The Writer’s eyes darted back and forth in an effort to locate in the air the right words to explain why he was here with her. She searched the room for ways to punctuate this conversation without the story being stale and trite. The Writer should at least tell the Reader her name, but there was not time for such trivial matters. If they both survived this, the pleasantries would then come forth, draped in civil platitudes, but for now, what she needed was him.

A flash of pearly whites put the Reader a bit more at ease, but he only sipped the coffee as she reached down in her bag and retrieved the Gobo. She rapidly applied the flashlight to illuminate the object which lit up the wall. Time seemed to stop in the café. The only two who were able to move were the Reader and the Writer. The writings were now on the wall. The Writer watched the Reader who was now reading the writings on the wall. A flash of realization came to him and his mouth dropped open.

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There is still so much more to come. You can follow the live feed on Facebook or check back in a day or so for the latest update.

PS: After reading his last entry, I have to up my writing game.

Give Me A Break

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    I am so tense and tight that I feel at any moment I am about to break loose and hurt a body. Please don’t misunderstand, I am not angry, I am just tired and in need of a respite. I reached the limit of my tolerance for bullpuckey about two weeks ago.

    As an educator of adults, you are sometimes torn between the adult who feels they are too old to learn or the youngster with way too much feeling and is scared to learn. All of it is trying on a nerve. A nerve that is hurting. If you factor in days when Uncle Osteo Arthritis wants to be uncooperative, then you have an unhappy camper. However, let us back up for a minute.

    We can begin with Hoodie-Thon. Yes, this is one subject that I will barely touch other than to point out a few obvious things. The first obvious thing is that we are so desperate for something to believe in, that we find ourselves championing something that yes, is controversial, but will not change our lives. If changing your Facebook status to a picture of you in a hood is your idea of activism, then it is time to reevaluate your standing. Second, using your celebrity to Tweet a location for the gathering of a lynch mob is stupid. And last, we are paying four dollars per gallon of gas, our children are eating crap, the food manufacturers are feeding us “pink slime” in our beef and you are wearing a hoodie to show solidarity. Give me a break and he (guy in photo) is a vegetarian, but I’d bet he has days when he wants to hurt a burger and provide a news report on how good it is.

    Let’s move on to our twenty four hour news networks. I tuned in and the same stories are run hour after hour with the same catch phrases. There are seven continents and one is melting, I would rather see the coverage of the ice melting than your news. Even Jon Stewart, with his fake news is more informative than what Fox News is reporting. Please don’t make me hurt you. Give me a break.


    Last, but not least on my list of people who require hurting are IT Techs. These people should not be allowed to breed! No, it is not harsh; let’s think about the last conversation you had with your company’s “IT person?” In order to start the conversation you first may want to find a different entrance into their office because the main door has been outstretched by their giganimous heads. Next, please bring spray for your walkway in order to kill the aroma of their God-like egos before you stand in their presence. Excuse me, did I say stand? Allow me to rephrase, you may want to genuflect in order to even have them hear you because they will answer your question with all the reasons why they can’t help you, the forms you need to fill out, and reminding you to open a ticket. With the pleasantries out of the way, you will be forced to listen to all of the other things that are far more important than you. Here’s list of toilets they would rather clean with their personal toothbrush than to help you with your crummy little issue. Be Gone UnTechnical Peasant idiot and stop pressing control, alt, delete. Give me a Break. I’m crushing your head. I’m crushing your head.

    Next, I am going to crush my own head with a Xanax and glass of wine. I will make the loud noises stop.

Angry Facebook Postings

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Last week, in one of the many groups I will swing by and make random comments, a statement was posted about writers block.

Use Image Searches Like a Thesaurus to Overcome Your Creative Blocks lifehacker.com. Creative blocks are extremely frustrating. They come when you’re excited to produce something awesome but can’t manage to find the necessary inspiration to do so.

In my, evidently incorrect posting, I stated that I did not believe in writer’s block. I said that writer’s block was a term created by people who had run out of things to say and that when a writer, pens themselves into a corner, in frustration, they say it is writer’s block. I further went on to add, that if the writer reevaluates where they are and what they are attempting to say, you can write your way into a good story.

    Simply stated I thought. Again, I was wrong. Some random lady, felt she needed to correct me with a statement that says my statement was rather opinionated.


Lauren StarrI don’t agree with that Cheryl, strongly so, some may have no issues of writer’s block – but that doesn’t mean others don’t have that problem. With the amount of books written on the subject I’m afraid that you are in the minority. I’ve also had an author state that “there are no characters writing the story, it’s just the author’s imagination…” Frankly, I’ve spoken to many authors & writers that claim that they have characters that they argue with, that some try to change the storyline & that there is a large number that feel that way. So just because one person or a few believe something, that doesn’t mean it is true for the majority. I found your statement that having a writing block is equivalent to not having anything to say is rather harsh and short sighted. It’s also rather hurtful to those that may be going through it. Often I get a type of writer’s block – not from a lack of ideas or having nothing to say, but from the sheer amount that wants to rush forth. I don’t know where to start or which story to tell. That can cause a bit of a dam when it comes time to actually write. The words are there, it’s just drawing out the first sentence so that things will start to flow. I’ve known well known authors that have different kinds of writer’s block – so your statement is rather opinionated, as well as negative in its presentation towards those that are dealing with the condition themselves. Criticism is good as long as it is helpful and not harmful.

March 9 at 10:46am · Like Unlike · 1

I know right! I was amused initially and so I thought I would send back a smart ass comment to counteract the negativity, provide my background and shed some light as to why I wrote what I did. I even thanked her for the Republican response. It appears that someone else also agreed with her and liked the comment. She evidently did not like mine, because this is what she wrote back.

Lauren StarrNice of you to assume I’m acting like a Republican. I’m not one. I’ve also been a teacher, though that was many years ago. Being a teacher, even of english is no guarantee to being a good writer. Or even of teaching others to be good writers. But no one says it better than James N. Frey in his book, “Write a Damn Good Novel”. His opinion on teachers and writing is priceless, since he used to be a professor himself. You should check it out if you haven’t yet. I also do not know why you seek to prove your view as superior as you did. As Mr. Frey stated in his insightful book, “there are many ways to write.” I agree that there is no one-size-fits-all ideal or the profession would not be such a coveted position. I’m sure you’re proud of your recognition, local fame and achievements. That’s fine, though I see no reason to fan them out as a peacock tail. Since I don’t know you, I find it a bit arrogant. But then that’s my opinion, my viewpoint. Everyone has one, like them or not. But it is far more telling of one’s character by seeing how they react to the views of others, than in the words they use to seek to clarify their own views. Why does one seek to prove their own opinion is better or more valid than another’s opinion. What is there to gain? Personally, when it came to criticism, more often, I’ve found a child’s feedback much more interesting, honest and useful. It’s also much more welcome, than the same from those that claim to be “experts”. As they are experts of their opinion and point of view. No more or less than anyone else. Frankly, I’d no idea why you’d bet your PhD – In our present economy, it’s worth is somewhat questionable. When even doctors and lawyers are unable to become employed, I don’t see the point. Nor do I see the relivancy in making the bet. Sorry to step on your toes, but if you don’t like my opinion that’s fine. But don’t wave your resume at me to prove your opinion has more worth. It doesn’t.

March 11 at 11:20pm · Unlike Like · 3

I was doubly a smart ass, because I was one of the three people that liked her comment. Then I posted in the group this really neat photo. I am still laughing too. I am creating a blog post dedicated to her effrontery. I am going to link it to her blog, because I am a teacher. In this economy, I even have a job.


Here’s the rub my friends. If you are going to pick a fight on Facebook with a person, at least know who you are fighting. I came up through corporate in the 1980s. I only know one way to fight; that is dirty and to take you out. Since you posted your comment in a public group and a public forum, I can repost it. I am coming for you sweetheart. I am going to explain to you relevancy, although you misspelled it, and I am going to bet my PhD, that your silly ass won’t do this again.

7 Types of Men Every Woman Should Date

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Okay, admittedly so, I have on several occasions acknowledged that I need to stay off Facebook. However, I could not pass up this little ditty. According to Quentin McCall, Life Coach, there are seven types of women, every man should date. These beauties include a simple, low maintenance woman, a woman who has submitted herself to God, an emotionally stable, selfless woman who can be your best friend. The last two traits that every man should look for is a woman of character, who is also loyal and patient. If you happen to find this woman, I think I would like to date her too, because I am not sure if this person exists. On a good day, I can cover maybe three, but all seven, I fear, my friends, that I am not that enlightened. Even June Cleaver sometimes got a little terse with the Beaver.

As a woman, I am always looking for ways in which I can be better, or ways in which I can evolve. Yet, we all know that in order to evolve, we must learn ways to grow from our mistakes. The things which have slowed us down or rather taught us major lessons in life, are the things which have caused us pain. Therefore, it is only fitting that I pick up where Mr. McCall has left off, and make a list of seven men that every woman should date.

  1. Someone who is broke, so you can remember, it ain’t cute constantly eat off the dollar menu.
  2. A man without a car, you will easily learn that he spends his money on Jordan’s instead of saving for something worthwhile like a vehicle.
  3. A bad boy, these are great to show you that drama is not a formula for relationship success. Getting drunk and fighting is only fun and exciting the first time, until you either get arrested or the cops threaten to haul you off with that idiot.
  4. A sexaholic. When you are young, you can go all night. When you are 35, the only thing you want to do all night is sleep. These guys are great for a once a month outing, but really, in two years when you would rather sleep, he and his friend are constantly poking you in the back trying to get you to play. Both of them need to go to sleep. You want to converse with me, talk to me with your mouth.
  5. A man who is in touch with his emotions. He can tell you all about his feelings, which is great, but a year into the relationship, he is just going to seem like he is just whining.
  6. A cheap skate. The good thing about this man is that you will never be broke. You will also never have anything new, never get a new car, a bigger house or shop at Macy’s.
  7. A man of refinement, this person is usually smarter than you are, are well traveled and understand food and wine pairings. He is also a test model because these types of men always make you feel as if you are not quite at their level. I love these types of men, because they inspire you to learn more and be better. Please keep in mind, you are not being better to be with them, just tuning up for when you meet your future husband. PS, hubby is going to be proud that you know food and wine pairings. This insipid fellow also taught you about stocks and bonds, so you can a little bit of moolah.

Even though I said seven, there is still one type of man with a must have trait in the man you marry; that is the ability to fix things. I love a handy man. I hate when something breaks and your man is in the Yellow Pages looking for a repair person. Heck, I can do that myself.

    I know I may have missed a man or two that a woman should date, but these are not to be confused with the type of men a woman can’t resist. That in itself is a different story with a whole new set of rules and lessons learned. We will visit that on a later edition.

Did you just unfriend me?

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Today I was just given a shock. I was checking my Facebook page and hubby made the comment that our son had something funny on his wall. I went to check and found that my own child had unfriended me! The nerve!

Here is the beauty of this; he is not able to see my post because he is not my friend. Therefore I can talk about him and he not know.

What does it really mean in Americanspeak when someone unfriends you on a social network? It means that you have been deemed unimportant in their daily lives. It means they do not care to know what you are doing on a daily basis and you are not privy to their information. In other words, you have been ruled as obsolete.

I know, it hurts. It hurts me too. I unfriended by brother-in-law and his insipid wife. I unfriended that guy from high school that I never really spoke to 30 years ago and I don’t really want to know about his daily life. I unfriended that drunk girl from college, who claimed she was allergic to alcohol, but found a way to guzzle it every weekend. I unfriended an Army buddy who found religion. She did not necessarily find God, because she is always judging how someone else is living their lives. I unfriended that former co-worker who I remembered tried to get me fired. Witch!

I blocked Mafia Wars, My Little Pony, I have a Butt Rash, Hearts, Rabbits and other irrelevant applications that drained my phone’s battery. I stopped following and unliking artist who made sucky movies. I stopped liking artist who sold out and added rap music to beautiful R & B ballads. I stopped responding to events that I would never, ever attend, by groups, I don’t want to be associated with anyway.

I took a cue from my son.

I started to update my pages as well and began to remove people that I really didn’t deal with on a regular basis.

I am okay with it.

I just hope some my acquaintances are as well, my sister in law, I don’t really care about.

Unfriending someone is not an insult. I see it as a separation of church and state. I don’t need to see everything that is going on in my son’s life and he does not need to see what I am posting. Not that either of us are saying anything offensive.

I am glad I have a chance to now ask him how was his day, versus sharing his life vicariously through his daily updates. I, now get to talk to him in person. Unfriending me, may just save our relationship.


But She is My Friend…………………….

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After the week I have had, I am thoroughly convinced that people are losing their minds! First I receive a text out of the blue from a friend who just has to see me, and invites me for drinks on Saturday night. Secondly, I receive an email from another friend who is itching to scrapbook but want to have lunch first and them get started about 3 pm after her hubby comes back to be able to sit with the dog. Last, but not least, I literally run into an old friend in Wal-Mart, who avoids me. Me? What did I do to you? She treated me as if she caught me sleeping with her husband.

Let me back up for a minute and start with friend one and the call out of nowhere. Initially, a month ago, she calls and tells me she is having a get together for the ladies at the church and she wants me to come over. She did not invite me as a guest, but as an extra pair of hands. I guess this was supposed to be our bonding time. She actually expected me to show up and work my butt off serving her guest. I refused.

Fast forward two months, her over complicated life is about to swallow her up and she knows the perfect friend to call. This of course would be me. How the bleep do you figure that I have nothing better to do with time other than make you feel better about yourself and your sorry life choices? She was buying lunch, I wanted hot wings, so I went. I made her feel better and she was proud to say she calls me friend.

The second friend, which, we haven’t know each other that long, we really aren’t that close, and really haven’t had a chance to truly bond. Our first night out with her and her hubby, they brought the 10 year old. Understandaly, you didn’t have a sitter. Second time we met, she left the windows down on the car and I thought, well maybe she doesn’t like air conditioning. There was a dog in the back seat. I was informed that the dog had some issues and did not like to be left home alone.

Two weeks later, we are planning to get together to scrapbook. She said she has to bring her dog.

I. Don’t. Have. A . Dog.

She said he would be fine if I had shade in my back yard. What makes you think I want dog crap in my yard? I can see making a concession for your 10 year old, even considering I don’t have one, but for your dog? You have lost your damn mind!

Last but not least, to my former friend in the store, I am sorry if I have done something to offend you. I am even sorrier if you have done something to offend me that I have yet to learn. I am sorry that we have come to this point in our relationship. Which leads me to this thought, why do I call these people friend?

I am starting a running list of my new dirty words and friend comes in at number two. I am uncertain if we have entered such and electronic world where knowing the intimacies of your life via your Tweets and Facebook posts, makes us close. It does not. It makes you a person who is losing touch with reality. Where were you in your book of “Hello, God, it’s me Magaret…” that no one answered you back?

If your friends do not have small children, then it is not okay to bring your child to dinner. If your friend does not have a dog, then why would you want to bring yours to my house? If I don’t call you to vent and unload my problems, then why do you think it is okay to do this to me? Why, because you call me friend? Out of curiosity, what do you think I call you?

If you are avoiding me in the store, then the problem lies within you. I have not wronged you and you will not afford me the opportunity to make it right. Dictionary.com defines friend as “a person attached to another by feelings of affection or personal regard.” If you hold these people you call friend in high regard, then treat them as such and not as a person who owes you something, your personal counselor, or someone you need to hate in order to feel alive.

On the other shoe, if she gets drunk every time you go out, and you have to be their babysitter, you can also scratch them off your list as a friend. If you constantly have to bail them out, literally and figuratively, then maybe you should not call them friend. Today I am making a list, and noting the qualities I like in those who support me and I them and why I choose to call them my friend. I am glad you are on my list.