Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts

Saturday, July 11, 2015

SOMETIMES A WRITER'S SKIN CANNOT BE THICK ENOUGH


Often I have made this comment to my younger writer friends,"you need thick skin to be a published writer." Some look at me with skepticism while others nod as if it didn't take them long to find that out.  Just because someone spends hours alone writing what is in their heart, doesn't mean that they have lost all sensitivity to negative remarks and criticism.  If anything is true the majority of writers are more sensitive, intuitive persons.  They learn to read body language and understand, "I'll come back and buy your book," to mean no sale.They can tell when some acquaintances want you to give them your book.  It is as if they went into a bookstore and saw your publication and think because they know you they should get it at a discount.  A book is a piece of art just like a beautifully crafted quilt or a specialty piece of jewelry.  Do you know what I mean? Craftsman should receive awards for their creations.  I have a dear friend who always buys local authors' works. He does that to show he recognizes the hard work that goes into a book.  Now he is a published author and he understands what a good thing he has been doing.

      Recently I gave my all to a preschool celebration for the end of school.  I prepared by attending a two hour meeting with the Director.  I had my illustrator make drawings from the book I was reading for the children to color. I took colorful posters, lots of books (I had been told I would sell many, I sold three to adults, not parents). I thought I was well prepared.  The children brought their favorite stuffed animals, as I did. The mothers and family members were present. There was excitement about a parade to follow the program.  The parade would be led by a man and his service dog. It was a special time for the children. The excitement had been building so when it came time to hear the author, dressed like a cat, read her book, the children were talkative and younger siblings were crying.  It was probably their nap times  It would have been ideal if they had sat there quiet as little mice, but that wouldn't have been natural.  I had the attention of some and received responses.  I chalked it up as a typical experience with young children.  Evidently the Director did not see it that way. Being an overly sensitive person, I felt the chill after the event was over.  There was not a thank you card or a simple gift to remind my illustrator and me of the event.  I have always felt it only good manners to do so.
     I thought that within the next few days I would be getting a call to be asked a few questions for info to go into the fabulous article with pictures to go into the local paper.  No email, no calls.  I even sent my friend a note to see if she or the Director were sick or there were problems. I have received no response and it has been over six months. I truly cannot understand the silence nor can my illustrator.
     I will put it in my memoir bank as one of the most hurtful, shocking, unbelievable experiences of my career.  It will remain a mystery.  I hope the answer is not what keeps popping into my head.  It is such an unchristian thought that I won't mention it.  I'm still looking for that fantastic article in the local paper.
     I'm not sure my skin is thick enough for this incident that happened  in a church sponsored activity. I could probably take it with a grain of salt if it happened in a secular setting.
     In standing back and looking at the situation, here is my theory:  they wanted a cute little kitten and they got an old mama cat!!!!!!

Thank you for reading this post.  Your comments and questions are welcomed.

Darlene Eichler
Writer, Memoirist, and Blogger



Friday, March 20, 2015

WHEN IS A VACATION NOT A VACATION?i


Even if one lives in a tourist area a vacation is needed for rest to body and mind. We missed our annual trip to Florida last year because of the weather.  We had to postpone it a month this year because of my health  and the myriad of medical tests I was prescribed.  The day finally arrived.  We drove to Wilmington to save money on our tickets.  Our one large piece of luggage, bulging like a bloated hog, held more than it should. I held my breath when it was lifted onto the scales. Whew!  Twenty-five dollars, please. Security was next.  would our small handbag of medications make it through? I must remember to show my electronic card for my Loop recorder.  I was assured I would not have to go through the metal detector.  Hold your arms above your head and step on the yellow footprints. After the "pat down,"  I was home free.

This was to be a vacation of relaxation.  We would take short trips and attend special happenings but mainly we would sit at home and enjoy each other's company.  I left my computer and Ipad at home.  I had my Iphone but I am not too good using it as anything but a phone and a camera. Oh, yes, email, too.  But it didn't give me a writing instrument .  After about two days I began to have a feeling that something was missing. Had I forgotten one of my medications?  No, they were all there?  What could it be?  Had I forgotten something really important to do at home.  Did I close the cat  in the guest room?  Or forget to turn the thermostat back?  No, I was pretty sure those things had been done.  Then it hit me like a brick.  I had not written anything in days! How can I remedy that?  I brought a small notebook and I would write the old fashioned way. That evening after everyone had gone to bed I decided to sit on my side of the bed and write.  There was no place to rest the notebook.   Soon my neck began to hurt and I closed the notebook. Perhaps I could go in the bathroom and find comfort.  That lasted for a few minutes.  Besides I seemed to have writers'  block or was it cramp?  I decided to go to bed and try to sleep.  Sleep at 11:30!  /A t home I would just be getting my second wind.  But I did fall asleep. I had some amazing dreams but little came to mind he following morning.  I gave myself a stern lecture..Darlene, forget the writing until you go home, after all no one seems interested.  So sit back enjoy the conversations of times gone by.  Some day my friends might be surprised to recognize one of their stories in print.
        I  can't wait to open my computer