The Meaning of Life

The Meaning of Life by Debra H. Goldstein

One of the first songs I remember learning as a child was Que Sera Sera – What Will Be Will Be. I always accepted it as the explanation for life. Today, three things made me reflect upon its application to what some may term “the long run.”

I received word a friend died last night. She was ninety-eight. The person who called hastened to note my friend lived a good life. That’s true, but I doubt in retrospect my friend would have fully agreed. She took pride in the education she received from Northwestern, in a time when women often didn’t have an opportunity to receive a college degree; the job she landed out of school; her marriage to the love of her life; her children and her grandchildren; and the volunteer activities that let her use her mind to advance the causes she loved.  But, there also was dismay that marriage meant the end of her professional career; volunteer activities filled her time but weren’t considered as important as moves for her husband’s profession nor could they conflict with the ideology of his company; unable to do anything, she watched her oldest daughter fight, win, fight and lose a battle with cancer; and for the past two years, a series of strokes robbed her of her ability to read and then the detailed brain function she cherished.  

Perusing Facebook today, I came across an article about scientist David Goodall, who recently celebrated his hundred and fourth birthday by blowing out his candles and expressing his special birthday wish is to die. Believing he has lived long enough, Goodall plans to effectuate his wish in Switzerland, where euthanasia is permitted, in May. Some question why a man of his stature who devoted his life to science started a GoFundMe campaign to pay for his and a helper’s travel expenses, but he notes he isn’t happy watching his body deteriorate and would be glad to die with dignity in his native Australia, but the laws don’t permit it. He acknowledges that at his age, even without euthanasia, his time is limited, but he doesn’t want to continue going downhill becoming more dependent on others while allowing nature to take its course.

An article discussing choosing between self-publishing and traditional publishing surprisingly made me reflect on this topic, too. The article, written by a writer who I am familiar with, noted that she began her career traditionally published, but that nearing age eighty and with a following of her works, she’s opted for self-publishing because of the timetables involved with dealing with agents, editors, and publishing house schedules. She made me think of the cartoon/joke that periodically goes around about the golden years when she observed she can no longer get around easily, do radio interviews because of her hearing loss, or spend years waiting for her books to become final products.

Perhaps because I am significantly younger, I understand the frustration delays, infirmities, and losses generate, but I can’t help but wonder why?  What purpose, perhaps unknown to them or the rest of us, exists for their continued existence? I believe life is cyclic with moments of joy and of sorrow, with good and with bad, but does its meaning change at different points over the long run? Is What Will Be Will Be too simplistic? I don’t know. But as I observe different people’s reactions, I wonder.  Do you?

Clicking Our Heels – Redoing Life – Maybe

At some point in life, one looks back and contemplates a re-do. Stiletto Gang members are no different, but the question is whether given the chance to re-do anything, would they?

Paula Benson – Maybe I would have gone to the Bristol Speedway to watch a race with my father, uncles and cousins.  Maybe.  But, I don’t think so.

Cathy Perkins – Not work 9-gazillion hours at the day job and spend more time writing or enjoying one of my other creative outlets.

Dru Ann Love –Would have gone to graduate school.

A.B. Plum – Start Writing for publication earlier.

Juliana Aragon Fatula – Go to college when I was twenty not fifty. I would have a Ph.D in

literature instead of a Ph.D in life.

Linda Rodriguez – I’d try to worry less and have faith that things would eventually work out, as I’ve found they usually do.  I say “try” because this is a lesson I’m still learning.

Bethany Maines – Community college. Not the actual going, but the rate at which I did it. I took far too long to figure out where I was going and what I was doing.

Kay Kendall – I would quiz my parents and grandparents about their lives in an in-depth way, making notes so I would never forget.  There are many things I want to ask them so much more about, now that it is way too late.

Sparkle Abbey:

  Anita – I can’t think of anything I’d like to redo. Maybe the last family road trip. 6 people, jammed inside a Grand Caravan for 20 days. We saw Mt. Rushmore, Custer Park, Yellowstone Park, the Redwoods, Napa Valley, San Francisco, LA, Laguna Beach, Hoover Dam and Las Vegas … maybe it wasn’t as great as I think it was.

  Mary Lee – I can’t say that I have many things I’d re-do.  Even some of the bad choices eventually led to good things.  However, if I could re-do anything in my life, I think it would be my education. At the time, I simply didn’t realize all the options out there…

J.M. Phillippe – I would have stuck with dance when I was a kid, and made it more a part of my life. I have found myself at various times in my life drifting to and from it – and I always wish I could make more room for it in my life.

Debra H. Goldstein – Given in to being a writer and comedienne vs. a lawyer and judge.

Looking for Fun

Looking for Fun by Debra H. Goldstein

Sometimes, I don’t feel like writing a blog.  Other times, I have ideas galore, but not enough time to address them.  The reality, according to John Lennon is “life is what happens to you when you’re busy making other plans.” This has been that kind of week. In fact, it has been that kind of month.

I could complain, but what good would it do? And, why would I want to?  Life isn’t perfect (ask my air conditioner), but it certainly beats the alternative. Besides, sometimes a “bad” thing turns out to be the best thing that could have happened. Plans falling through may mean extra time to do something on my to-do list or to simply have fun.

Fun is something I like. I tend to be super serious, but when there is laughter and fun, no matter what goes wrong, the world is right. Occasionally, I forget to have fun. I become too overwhelmed with obligations.  Responsibilities become burdensome. Eventually, my to-do list is accomplished, but when things aren’t fun, every task takes longer. Little roadblocks, which usually never bother me, are irksome. When I reach that point, I need to step away, take stock, and find my sense of fun.  It may be a deep reach, but it always is there. Thank goodness.

What about you? How do you find your way back to an even keel?

What I Want from Life

What I Want from Life by Debra H. Goldstein

Do you ever wonder what you want from life? 

Lately, I’ve been in a pensive mood, giving that question a bit of thought. Don’t worry, I’m not thinking about death or aging, but simply being selfish about my own desires. The topic doesn’t require me to delve into the meaning of life, only what I want from it.

 When I started brainstorming a response, I immediately blurted out: “I want my family to be happy, healthy, and prosperous.”  My second answer, after listening to our present political catfights and catching a re-run of Miss Congeniality was “World Peace.” Both were nice comments, but neither addressed the specificity of the question.

So, taking my wishes for my family and the world out of the equation – what do I want?

A successful career? I think that one has been satisfied between my legal career and now following my passion to write, but then again, I don’t write every day and I haven’t made the New York Times bestseller list.  Admittedly, there is room for this goal to be expanded upon, but I’m pretty content knowing two novels, Should Have Played Poker and Maze in Blue, as well as eighteen short stories have been published in the past few years, and that the challenge of making the bigtime is just over the horizon. After all, recently, the mail brought a check for my first sale to Alfred Hitchcock Murder Magazine.

A break to veg and read?  There could always be more time for reading, but according to my Goodreads Challenge tally, I’m ahead of my projected reading schedule. This week alone, I’ve already knocked out Dark Money, the new Harry Potter book/script, and my backlog of periodicals.

Talent without envy of others?  I’m still at the bottom of the learning curve, but there are so many gifted writers out there.  What my friend, TK Thorne, can do with a phrase or an image constantly stops me in my tracks and shows me how elementary my skills are.  Yet, whether it be from TK, Linda Rodriguez, or so many others who have been generous with their time, advice, and patience, I can’t even verbalize how much I’ve gained as a writer and a person. So, yes, I envy their talents, but appreciate them too much for there to be more than a mild form of jealousy.

Happiness? I’ve had my share and it continues to come my way. 

Friends?  I’m blessed in that department, too. I hope all know, even when I’m oblivious or overbooked, they are my lifelines, support, and cheerleaders --- and that it is reciprocal (even if you have to make me stop long enough to sense a need).

So, what do I want out of life?  Probably nothing more than I’ve been given, except maybe

developing a better sense of style. I noticed in this recent picture that the legs of my pants might be a bit short.

Cranking (Toddler) Tunes

By Bethany Maines

Many things change after having a baby.  And I have to say that one of the things that I’m the most sad to see change is the amount of music I listen to.  Baby nap times seem to encompass the whole dang day! I used to have iTunes running almost constantly.  Not that it wasn’t a battle with my husband over what to listen to.  No, I don’t want more Phish.  And there’s only so much hip-hop and Grateful Dead I can listen to before going insane. (Yes, my husband is a hippy with a secret love of 90’s R&B.  He compensates for this deficiency by being ruggedly handsome and having the miraculous ability to open jars and kill countless spiders.)  

The interesting thing is that, aside from the specific bands, where my husband I deviate in our musical tastes is an actual love of music.  He loves music.  Phish, Dave Matthews, the Allman Brothers, and the Grateful Dead all have one thing common.  OK, take a toke and make that two things – they’re jam bands.  I hate jam bands.  It’s just giant swaths of useless music that take away from the important thing – the lyrics.  I love the words. (Surprised?  Probably not.)  For me, music is like poetry with half the pretentiousness and way more shake-your-bootiliciousness.  And I like to play it ALL the time particularly when I’m working.  I find that music helps put me in the zone for writing and for design.  

But with an in-home office and a baby, it’s become a lot more difficult to crank the tunes through the work day.  I was excited when the baby hit two and it became easier to send her to daycare/babysitting and there’s only one nap to contend with, but it has also meant that she’s tons more verbal.  With a toddler in the house, I don’t feel quite so comfortable cranking up a few of the songs I love, like Don’t Shoot Me Santa by The Killers.  I am perfectly prepared to explain that boys have a penis and some people are in wheelchairs and sometimes boys marry boys and girls marry girls.  But… I am not at all prepared to explain why Santa is shooting that guy in the song.  I’m pretty sure I see headphones in my future.

***

Bethany Maines is the author of the Carrie Mae Mysteries, Wild Waters, Tales from the City of Destiny and An Unseen Current.  You can also view the Carrie Mae youtube video or catch up with her on Twitter and Facebook.

When Life Happens by Debra H. Goldstein

When Life Happens by Debra H. Goldstein

Did you ever notice how much your day varies from your to-do list? That, as John Lennon said, “Life is what happens while you are busy making other plans.”

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately especially when I look at the stacks on my desk, credenza, and the floors of my office and bedroom. They annoy me, but at the same time, I don’t care. I’m sure there will come a point when I have to stop and clean things up, but what I realize looking at my clutter is that it represents flexibility and being alive.

The pile to the right of my chair represents materials from board meetings attended last week that I haven’t filed away yet. That’s okay, it was more important that I showed up at the meetings, contributed, and then came home to work on responses for blog interviews scheduled for next month’s release of Should Have Played Poker: a Carrie Martin and the Mah Jongg Players Mystery.

The stack right of my desk are bills I paid, notated with check numbers or online confirmations, but haven’t thrown in the keep these bills envelope. That’s okay, it was important that I wrote checks for the mortgage, utilities, internet, and the plane tickets for the family wedding that’s coming up in a few months.

The cards and invitations centered at the top of my desk are for gifts I need to buy for upcoming showers and weddings or birthday cards from those who kindly took me to different birthday dinners and lunches this month. That’s okay, I wish we can’t accept every invitation, I want to acknowledge these lift cycle events. I am happy to report that the thank you notes were written for the birthday festivities as they occurred but some of the cards are so hilarious that I want to read them again. It wasn’t a special birthday, but celebrating for an entire month has been fun.

In the near center of my desk are printed copies of two stories I submitted this month. Submission guidelines for other calls I’d like to address are near some pads on the left. That’s okay, I didn’t think I could come up with an idea for the stories, but things worked out before the deadlines passed and the others still have promise so long as I keep them in my sight lines.

I was supposed to have this blog ready and scheduled before I went to California last weekend, but getting the two stories, PR, and spending time with family and friends took precedent. That’s okay, it’s written. It’s going to be set up a day early. And best of all, it reflects the most important thing any of us can embrace: Life is what happens when we go with it rather than trying to force square pegs into round holes.

Hopefully, all of your distractions have been good; but if not, here’s hoping you’ve been able to let go of enough to survive and come out on the other end.

Hashtag This

by Bethany Maines

There’s a hashtag on Twitter for people who are writing - #amwriting. An innocuous hashtag for tracking other writers, but sometimes… it can be just a little bit smug. And given the nature of writers I was wondering if we could have a more honest hashtag? #amsurfingtheweb #amwatchingcatvideos #amdoinganythingbutwriting

Right now I’m doing anything but working on the outline of Carrie Mae Book 4.  Because, no, I don’t know how they ended up in a brawl to the death among the Amsterdam tulips.  Can’t I just wave my magic writer wand, do a little jazz hands, and write by the seat of my pants? #pantsingit  The problem with pantsing it, is that I am no Louis L’Amour.  Mr. L’Amour apparently did not believe in rewrites or edits; he believed that rewrites killed the freshness of the story.  Or he believed that we would buy whatever he wrote. #hewasright  When I attempt to pants it, my stories go sideways and I end up writing entire chapters that sound like vacation brochures. #needavacation No story was ever moved forward by a character actually stopping to smell the roses, or in my case, tulips.  Unless, of course, he got wacked on the head while bending to smell one. #deathbytulip #nameformynextnovel #dontstealit #mine

So here I am, forced into the drudgery of outlining.  Coming up with the answers before I even know what all the questions are. Or in my case, procrastinating for all I’m worth. #procrastination! I could say that I’m mulling it over or letting it marinate, but let’s face it, at no point in my life have I ever mulled something over while doing the dishes.  The only thing I think while doing the dishes is that dishes suck and we all need to stop eating so there will be less dishes.  #seriously It’s productivity through hatred of the other available task. #atleastsomethinggotdone Eventually, I’ll have to return to the outline – figure out the who, why, where and how.  Eventually, I will have to do the research and plug the plot holes.  Eventually, I will actually have to write.  #amwriting   Sigh.  Can’t I be #amvacuuming instead?  

Bethany Maines is the author of the Carrie Mae Mysteries, Tales from the City of Destiny and the forthcoming An Unseen Current.  You can also view the Carrie Mae youtube video or catch up with her on Twitter and Facebook.

Writing, Promotion, Life

All of the above battle for my time.

I'm in the process of writing my next Rocky Bluff P.D. mystery. I try to work on it every day--but things like laundry, making arrangements for a trip to promote a book, coming up with promotions, planning a blog tour, etc.

While writing a police procedural there are times that I have to do a bit of research. I'm fortunate to belong to PSWA and it's easy to get on the listserve and ask any question about police procedure that I need to find out. The answers will flood in from many law enforcement professionals.

Though not an outliner, I do have a good idea of where I'm going with the mystery--though at this point, I only have a vague idea of the outcome. Because this will be #11 in this series, I have continuing threads about the characters that I need to address.

As thoughts come to me, I always jot them down, because if I don't I might forget.

I was overdue with my Deputy Tempe Crabtree mystery. I don't really have due date with the publisher, but I was so late sending in a manuscript, I got an email asking if I had one. I've turned it in and it's been assigned to an editor with a possible launch date at the end of September.

And of course this means I must get busy with planning the promotion.

And then there's life.

My husband does like to spend some time with me (and I with him) so we do take off and go to the movies and out to eat. He usually  comes along with me on any promotion trips and we turn them into mini-vacations.

We have a huge family--and many live nearby, one daughter, a son, five adult grandids, and 7 great-grands.We see them a lot and enjoy spending time with all of them. One daughter lives in Southern CA and two of her kids live with her. We try to get down there when possible.

And our eldest daughter is farther away also, Southern CA, but about a 6 hour drive. Her two adult kids are there with their families--and five more great-grands. And yes, we go there when we can.

There you have it--a busy life for this old lady, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Marilyn aka F. M. Meredith

Life is Too Short to Eat Boring Rice

by Rachel Brady

I saw a billboard with this phrase today and thought to myself, “Yes. Life is too short to eat boring rice.” It is too short to do a lot of things.

Life is too short for me to wear clothes that don’t fit right just because I already own them. So what? I’ll give them away and then somebody else can own them. Problem solved.

It’s too short for painful shoes. Although, I will wear them to dress up.
Because life is also too short not to dress up sometimes.

Life is too short for me to bother with that little, almost-gone, flat and skinny yet not quite useless piece of soap that is left right before a bar disintegrates. I’m finished with that piece of soap.

Life’s too short to gut out reading a book that isn’t amazing. There are more incredible books in the world than I can read in my lifetime. I’m gonna stick with those.

Life is too short not to wear perfume even when it’s just me and the dishwasher.

Life is too short to say no to something today because of something that might happen tomorrow. That something also might not happen tomorrow. Where will that leave me? Wishing I’d done something different yesterday, that’s where.

Life’s too short to worry about what people think about me. Who am I to think they are thinking anything about me? That’s kind of narcissistic. Instead I’ll assume nobody is thinking anything about me. Then I can do whatever I want. I’ll have way more fun.

Life is too short to eat high-calorie but utterly boring food, like stale cookies from the supermarket. Yes to 400 calorie divine food, like the homemade, glorious brownies that my friend Wally brings to the office pot-luck lunches. No to 400 calorie boring food, like store bought birthday cake with waxy icing.

Unless I feel like eating it that day. Life is too short not to do what I feel like sometimes.

Life is too short for complaining. Fix or accept.

Too short for blame.

Also for grudges.

Too short for agonizing over decisions. I recently had to buy a clock. I went to Target and they didn’t have quite what I wanted. On the spot, I decided that I didn’t need the best clock on the planet. The best one at Target would suffice. So I picked one. The world didn’t end.

Life’s too short for second guessing the past. I made the best choices I could at the time, with the information I had at the time. Sure, I know more now. But, I didn’t then. Short of time travel, there’s no solution I see here other than moving forward. Life is One Way.

Life is too short to play my favorite music at a reasonable volume.

It’s too short to worry about grass stains.

And that billboard was right. It’s way to short to eat boring rice.

Feast or Famine

by Susan McBride

I've been wishing for calm and peace around here lately, particularly after finishing up a really tough deadline for LITTLE BLACK DRESS (which you all heard about in my last post!). It's been a crazy few months what with putting on the "Wine, Wit & Lit" fundraiser for Casting for Recovery back in early October, my mom's diagnosis of breast cancer and her treatment, and LBD's due date. I kept telling myself, "This too shall pass," and it did. The fundraiser went beautifully, and we raised enough money to send 1-1/2 women to a Casting for Recovery retreat for breast cancer survivors; my mom made it through her surgery and treatment with flying colors; and, I finished LBD in the nick of time AND am so proud of how it turned out.

"Can I have a week of calm?" I asked. "Just one week?"

I figured that would be a given. I mean, what could go wrong? I had the days ahead all planned out: lounging in front of the boob tube in my jammies (as opposed to slaving away at the keyboard in said jammies); watching endless HGTV until I began to have dreams that Clive and Lisa had shown up to stage my house; reading all the books I'd put aside while I was in deadline hell; and sleeping so much my husband would check my pulse to make sure I was alive.

What happened instead was our youngest kitty Blue crashed within 24 hours of turning my latest book in. She was listless that Friday, but I was listless, too. So I kind of thought her need to sleep reflected my need to sleep. But she didn't eat that night (which is when we KNEW something was wrong). By Saturday morning, she had yellow inner ears, skin, and inner eyelids. I called our vet and we took her in ASAP. We found out she had something called hemolytic anemia, which is when the cat's immune system turns on itself, and we have no idea what triggered it. Sometimes they can identify the culprit--fleas, ticks, vaccinations--but in many cases, like ours, they can't find a reason why.

We had to take her to the emergency animal clinic, where she was admitted and stayed for two days. It killed me to leave her there with strangers, even ones who could care for her better than I. She had a blood transfusion to get her hemoblogin count up. I called several times a day, and we took in food and tried to feed her when they said she wasn't eating. We finally sprung her on Monday afternoon, after basically camping out at the hospital because I knew she'd be better off at home.

So much for peace and quiet. Our last week was filled with twice a day meds (antibiotic pills and steroid syrup), trying to get her to eat and drink, making sure she went potty, and keeping her away from the other cats. I feel like all I did everyday was wash cat dishes, open cans, take up food, take down old food that was rejected, lather, rinse, and repeat.

The good news is that Blue is doing much, much better. Her hemoglobin count has risen to almost normal levels, which means her meds are working. She had lost 1.6 pounds within 48 hours at the vet hospital but has regained 1.4 (hooray!). Within about three weeks, once they taper her Prednisolone, we'll know if she's going to survive this. We have high hopes. Blue's a super kitty.

In the meantime, other things have cropped up in my life--personal and professional--that put off any chance of peace and quiet for the near future (like, the crazy backdoor neighbors shooting rifle pellets through our brand new fence! But, hey, I made a new contact at the local police station when I filed my report. He's a lieutenant with a 30-year background in law enforcement who's agreed to be my consultant when I write my young adult thriller next year). My mother likes to say, "feast or famine," and sometimes I think life just loves throwing us those "feast" curveballs to keep us on our toes.

You can understand why I didn't go shopping on Black Friday. I didn't want to chance being crushed.

So I guess I'll take my calm when I can get it, in tiny snatches here and there. And perhaps I'll put "peace and quiet" on my Christmas list and see what happens.