Joy, Interrupted

The conception of this anthology was inspired by my own grief journey. After the death of my daughter in 2003 from SIDS, I noticed is that there wasn't a book that addressed the many different interruptions of the joy of motherhood.

So, I decided to edit Joy, Interrupted: An Anthology on Motherhood and Loss.  It includes tales of mothers whose joys had been interrupted, deferred or delayed. Women who had miscarriages; daughters who talked about the pains of being adopted; women struggling with the loss of identity while mothering; men and women who were taking care of their dying mothers.

I learned to see my experiences in a larger, more universal, context.  Some of these universal themes addressed include: coping with the death of a child; relationships between mother and child (including adoption and estrangement): caring for disabled children: and having to mother one’s own mother because of an illness. In reading about other dimensions of loss, I saw new opportunities for coping, for making meaning out of pain, and for healing.

The anthology showed how motherhood and loss exists in the space between grief and joy.  We remember and hope for the joyous aspects of mothering at the same time we mourn the loss. It is my hope that this anthology can allow others to move closer to joy. I hope this anthology can reveal how each loss reaffirms the many possibilities of motherhood, even when joy is interrupted.

I believe these voices  open up our views about the space between joy and grief, and what the act of mothering can entail. I see this anthology as a prism reflecting a multiplicity of voices. Each voice meant something to me, and I anticipate that some of the pieces will mean something for others, as well.

This book is intense and isn't meant to be read cover to cover. I believe this book is one you put on your nightstand, and in your darkest hour you turn to it for processing your grief.  I think we all need those moments to grieve openly, while still being able to function, and hopefully, feel joy once again.

The contributors demonstrate courage in baring their souls.  They teach us how creativity can exist even in tragedy. They show us how even through our tears we can find some meaning in life.  They share their stories after going through the fires of loss.  They are proof that we can rise up out of the ashes of grief.

So, this book is ultimately about motherhood, loss, and healing.  I believe it can do the same for others as it did for me, moving us closer to joy, even when it has been interrupted.

More info about the book
The book on Amazon:
If you are interested in reviewing the book, I can send you a free PDF copy.  It is available to buy now but hasn't been shipped to anyone yet.
                                                     

You can contact me, Melissa Miles McCarter, at fdfarmpress@gmail.com or go to the website of my small press at http://fatdaddysfarm.org
I am on facebook at http://facebook.com/Melissa.miles.mccarter
My twitter handle is @fatdaddysfarm
 

Dark Night of the Dinosaur

Dive!
Dive deep
Wild child of the night
Playmates gone
Supper’s over
Jammies on
Time for bed
Lights are off

It’s very quiet . . . quiet . . . quiet
A l l   a t   o n c e!
YYEEAAAH !
Attack!!!
A big ole’ dinosaur jumps straight inside his head!
No!   no, not a dinosaur - better’n that
A long nose scissor tooth grinning fishy-eyed ichthyosaur
One from the picture book 
Green thrashing around right inside his head!
Swimmin’ in an ocean eatin’ everything in sight
A BIG crashing scaly water dragon
Better’n anything walking anywhere
CHOMP    YEEEARRG    CRUNCH
Eating a whole tyrannosaur that’s walkin’ in the water
WOAARRR
Then,
Underwater dragon goes down,  down,   down . . . down . . . down
Where lights are off 
And no one’s home . . .
And everything is quiet . . .
But sleep’s not there
A big black shadow sneaks across the wall
Oh no!
Tyrannosaur comes back for revenge!
Wild child rises to the challenge
And grabs his truck beside the bed
Truckasaurus flies everywhere
No one can escape
He flatfoot gallops on bare feet around the room
Pounce!   Attack!
POUNCE    POUNCE    POUNCE    POUNCE    POUNCE 
On every toy that sits around the bed
Yea!   Here comes streakasaurus to the fight!
Streakasaurus grabs tyrannosaur by the neck
KRRAAAAKK
Tyrannosaur rears up and roars with his big claws slashing
Slashing,  slashing,    slashing . . . slashing

Then, he falls right off the pillow
And  s  l  i  d  e  s  down the covers to the floor
Down, down, down a thousand miles deep
. . . Bump
Into sleep . . . into dreams . . .

From the doorway slightly closing
A slim blade of light slices across the wall
Then the latch resets itself noiselessly
Supersaur backs away and tiptoes lightly
Gently turning lights off down the hall . . .

©  Sandy Hartman                          

9/28/10

Reading poetry aloud has always been a joy for me.  A friend once remarked that I would read aloud to a tree stump if given the chance.  Well, she was wrong. . .I will read to the wind or an empty room should a power packed  poem or gorgeous paean come my way.  Dark Night of the Dinosaur was especially fun because of its audio challenge.  It is posted on my web site   www.eonriter.com  along with other other poems and the many, many photos from flickr photoshare, Getty Images, and Google images. You are invited.

                                                                                            

Algernon and Bertie

 
The day was warm and the spring birds filled the countryside with their happy chirruping; Algenon Pinsbury and his Bertram Rushley were walking along the country lane when Bertie turned to Algie and asked him, "Algie, dear friend, why do you rise so late? By the time you get up it is almost midday."

Algie stopped his afternoon stroll by a stile, and sat down before he explained, "Bertie,my dear fellow, I rise late for many reasons. If I stay in bed I can remain warm, my room is cold and when I get up I can feel the cold start to creep into my bones."

"I'm sorry old chap, I hadn't realised your lodgings were that bad."

"That is just one reason, Bertie, if you want to hear more all you need do is ask."

Bertie and Algie were close friends despite the vast differences in their backgrounds. Algie was a struggling writer whose words could enthral Bertie, while Bertie was the man about town with the connections; however, coming from a wealthy family this side of life had never occurred to him, his friend always met him in the lanes and not at his lodging house and even on a bad day; Algie was usually careful not to let on about his squalid life,"Please, go on, if you don't mind," Bertie said.

Algie took his cap off and laid down on the grass at his feet, then he started, "Bertie, I rise late because by getting up late, I can miss breakfast as my first and main meal of the day counts as both breakfast and lunch."

Shocked at this news, Bertie said, "I am so sorry, Algie I never realised things were so bad for you. I thought your work was liked and read."

"They are, Bertie, but the sales have dried up and I cannot live on reputation alone. Do you remember the bad fall I had a few years ago?"

Bertie stopped to think back to the day, and replied, "Yes, it was terrible you slipped on the ice and banged your shoulder, if I remember."

Algie rubbed his shoulder to ease his pain a little and said, "That's correct, the pain has got so bad there are days when I cannot write, which brings me to the other reasons I rise late. By staying warm I can ease the pain in my shoulder, this is why even on a warm day like today I wear a cardigan on top of my shirt, Bertie. By staying in bed, I found that lying down helps ease the pressures on the shoulder muscles too. By staying in bed, not only do I stay warm but you see it is less painful for me, Bertie."

Bertie had a thought and said, "I know you are a man of honour, but will you allow me to subsidise you until you can make some money. It would be an honour for me to be able to help you, your work is so brilliant it needs to be read."

Algie looked up at his friend and said, "It is a lovely thought, Bertie, and I thank you for your kind offer but I will never be able to repay you and you know how that will tear me apart."

"I meant no offence, Algie, as I know you as a man of honour; but what do you intend to do?"

"No offence was taken, Bertie. For now, my plans are too keep writing and hope something changes, if not I may have to consider other work and let the writing become a smaller part of my meagre life."

Alan Place http://hereiamattheedge.blogspot.co.uk/
http://alsdomain.weebly.com/index.html#.UYki5qKG0W7 and http://www.linkedin.com/profile/view?id=152423744&trk=tab_pro

Introducing "Ontario"

For today’s post I wanted to show you a bit of Ontario’s world – her art class. One of Ontario’s favorite things to do is draw or paint. Art is her emotional outlet and it means a lot to her. Here’s part of a scene when Ontario is in her art class at school. Her teacher has just introduced a new exercise where the students hear short bits of music and in a small amount of time each person tries to depict what the song is saying to them:

We waited in anticipation for the music to start, and when it did we all laughed, including Mrs. Wheeler. It was the theme song from American Idol.

      “Well, get to it!” Mrs. Wheeler said, and we all began. Most of didn’t get very far since the opening song was only about thirty seconds long, but we all obediently got to work. The next song was Poker Face by Lady Gaga, which again brought some laughs and also some moans. Next was the school fight song, Stairway to Heaven, and the National Anthem.

      Silently we painted away, song after song. I enjoyed the activity very much and I really tried hard to paint what my own emotions were telling me, not what the words were saying. The last song that played was Blue Suede Shoes, by Elvis Presley.

      “Really?” I said, out loud accidentally. I got several weird looks from people and hurriedly turned back to my work. I tried hard to think of something other than Austin, but that was definitely where my emotions were taking me so I gave in and started painting, trying to depict the way that he danced. This time I really got lost in the music and just let it guide my hand.

      “Alright!” Mrs. Wheeler said as the song ended. She stood up and turned off the CD player. “What did you come up with?” She looked around excitedly.  “Who wants to share what they drew for the first song? Is there anyone who drew something other than a singer?” she asked with a laugh.

      To our surprise a hand shot up in the back. It was Chad, a tall and gangly guy.

      “Okay Chad, what did American Idol say to you?” Mrs. Wheeler asked with a smile. Chad held up his picture and we laughed. He had painted stick figures of a man and a young girl fighting over a remote.

      “Would you care to explain?” Mrs. Wheeler asked.

      “It’s my Dad and little sister,” Chad said. “Every time it comes on my Dad tries to change it and my sister throws a royal fit.”

      “Very nice,” said Mrs. Wheeler and we clapped.

      “Alright, what about Lady Gaga?”

      This time several hands shot into the air so Mrs. Wheeler let them all share. We laughed at the various pictures we saw, including one that showed Lady Gaga holding I sign that said “I’m insane and I know it” and another that showed the creator at a concert freaking out.

To learn more about Ontario and her story, buy the book today, now available on Amazon in Paperback and Kindle formats!

Author Bio

Heidi Nicole Bird has been writing for as long as she can remember and it is her favorite thing in the world. Heidi is a regular NaNoWriMo participant and is mostly a young adult fantasy writer, but also likes to write juvenile fiction and other genres. She holds a Bachelor of Arts degree in History from Brigham Young University and she looks forward to exploring the genre of historical fiction. Heidi lives in Utah with her family and three dogs, and loves working from home as a full time writer.

Also by Heidi Nicole Bird, Through the Paper Wall

http://www.amazon.com/Through-the-Paper-Wall-ebook/dp/B00BF1MNT4

Links:                

www.facebook.com/HeidiNicoleBird

www.twitter.com/HeidiNicoleBird             

http://heidinicolebird.blogspot.com/

Links to Ontario:                                                                      

Paperback                                       Kindle Store

Ontario on Goodreads

Travels with a Blue Vase

For as long as I can remember I have loved to travel. My father traveled in
his work and frequently took us along. My mother said I was born with the
“go” gene. I also loved to draw. I was the one who drew pictures of Mickey
Mouse for my friends, the one the teacher called on for bulletin boards.
Even though my first love was art, I studied nursing in college. These were
the turbulent Kennedy years, and a bomb shelter had been built next door.
Later, when my children were in school, l wanted to be home on holidays
and summer vacations so I returned to school and became certified to
teach art.
When I began, I longed to go where they great artists had gone, lived and
painted. In 1994 I had a chance to go to Provence in the south of France to
paint. I visited the studios of Monet, Cezanne and Renoir, the scenes
painted by Van Gogh and Matisse as well. I took with me a blue plastic
vase so I could enjoy fresh flowers in my room. Sometimes it got into my
pictures. I filled a sketchbook, and I was hooked. Each winter I saved my
pennies, and every other summer I traveled and painted.
Many years and multiple sketchbooks later, I sat beside a lady from London
on the plane. She looked at my sketchbooks, noticed the blue vase and
suggested I put them all together in a book and call it Travels with a Blue
Vase. I had my title.
I decided to narrow the scope of my various travels to the Mediterranean
area: Provence, Italy and Greece. Because I am a foodie and love to paint
food, I included illustrated recipes from those countries.
Shortly after I began, I lost my daughter. I had retired from teaching to care
for her at home so I was at loose ends. I volunteered to do art with several
special needs groups, but it wasn’t enough. Putting together this book gave
me a focus, a reason for being. I relived each place I had been when I
made these sketches, and it made me happy.
When it was finished, I combed the bookshelves of stores and libraries to
find similar books and their publishers. I talked to authors and editors
before I sent a proposal to two of them. After six months I had two very nice
Travels with a Blue Vase
rejection letters so I decided to publish it myself. After all, our lives are
getting shorter every day.
Travels with a Blue Vase: A Mostly Mediterranean Sketchbook has
done very well. I’m not looking to become rich or famous - I’d just like to
share the beauty I see around me and the gift from God I’ve been given.
A second book came easily as I learned the modern technology of
computers. I called it More Travels with a Blue Vase: Paris and Beyond.
Currently I’m working on a third in the series. It encompasses England,
Scotland, Ireland and Wales. I have much of it done. I just need to take one
more trip...

Mary Ann Miller
Member of www.NLAPW.org, Jacksonville branch
Her book is available on her website and also at the Cummer Museum in Jacksonville, Fl

Where will Mars exploration lead us?

 

There’s talk in the media about missions to Mars, there has been ever since the moon landings 40 years ago. How would we fund such a trip, would we be able to overcome the technological and psychological obstacles? These are all issues that now have potential solutions. Mars One is a project that hopes to use reality TV funding to raise the cash.

So the audition (sorry selection) process will be televised (as will the revolution but that's a different story). Their web site states “The online application will consist of general information about the applicant, a motivational letter, a resume and a one minute video in which the applicant answers some given questions and explains why he or she should be among the first humans who set foot on Mars.”  I might even apply myself, surely a dissipated, middle aged writer with poor eyesight and a dodgy beard would be just what they need. What’s the worst that can happen, I get rejected? Hey, I’m a struggling writer, I’m used to rejection.

audience

The process continues with the obligatory medical checks but round three is the most telling. “This round is the national selection round, which could be broadcast on TV and internet in countries around the world. In each country, 20-40 applicants will participate in challenges that demonstrate their suitability to become one of the first humans on Mars. The audience will select one winner per country and Mars One experts will select additional participants to continue to round four.” So it really is possible to see the selection  process turning into an audition and once the public becomes involved we are talking about the full Big Brother experience. Will the first colonists of other worlds be the most beautiful and handsome? Will the first children born on other planets have square jaws, perfect clear skin and the blondest of hair? Presumably the broadcast will continue right to the point where they land on Mars, build their settlement and begin their existence on the red lifeless waste that will be their new home for the rest of their lives.

We might imagine how their daily lives, of survival decisions and scientific experimentation, are influenced by ratings. Will there be a behind the scenes struggle between the directors of the scientific programme and the media division, with the associated back stabbing and scandal? This would make a great plot for a film or TV series. In fact I think the film might already have been made and I think there was a series with a similar background. The series was cancelled, I seem to remember, because the real world accountants pulled the plug when ratings didn't take off. So what happens when the audience figures for the real Mars landings drop off? Actually, when you consider it, it would be self-sustaining as lack of audience figures would put their funding at risk, which would put their lives at risk, and their audience would increase with the likelihood of disaster. They would be on a constant knife edge though. (Comparisons to Columbus might break down when you consider he wasn’t reliant on a constant stream of funding from his supporters in Europe to ensure he had survival resources on board ship or in the new world.)

televised

But this is where the big issue arises. When the inevitable disaster happens, when they have a catastrophic failure, or worse, a slow demise due to some equipment failure that can't be resolved in the eight months it takes to resupply, how much will be televised? Doubtless the media will debate the fact that this is what they might have expected and as such the colonisers/stars would want it to be broadcast, it's in their contract, after all the royalties will go to their families after their death.

The first Dutch Big Brother programme in 1999 was a game changer and this will be too (it’s interesting to note that the first Big Brother series was in Holland where the Mars One project has its base). The spread of Big Brother and other reality TV concepts in the first years after the millennium changed what we considered to be acceptable in the media in general and so will Mars One. Once we see people in daily peril for the sake of audience figures disguised as exploration, how long will it be before live reality TV is used as a funding source for other risky activities? Will it then become acceptable to film the death of participants in extreme situations? Hell let’s take people and film them while they risk their lives for big cash prizes, they sign a release form so there’s no risk to the producers at least. Come to think of it, this would make a good plot for a film.

Jack Barrow 
Jack is embarking on a 39 day long trip across the UK today. He will send in posts from the road.

Debt is a Home Wrecker

When I was with my husband we were always on a budget. We would have to be on an “austerity program” as he called it. He worked ten hour days and still we could never get ahead. Our budget was always being blown. At times, I thought he blamed me even though I contributed quite a bit of money to the household. We just never went a month without some kind of new debt.
I know most people have this issue to worry about. It is the way of the world and can be a never-ending struggle. My husband used to say he wanted to make enough money so he wouldn’t have to take crap from anyone. Somehow he thought if he was a financial success nothing else would matter. He hated being reminded of his own mediocrity and refused to hear about people who were achieving more than he did. Being with that kind of person made it difficult to look past our money problems. When I was with him I was always reminded that we were not okay. That is a hard way to walk around life, feeling like you are not good enough. After a while I started to think of myself as a failure too.
Now that we are apart, I refuse to look at my triumphs in life solely based on my economic situation. Money makes life easier but it does not guarantee happiness. Happiness is accepting yourself as you are.

Brenda Perlin

GOODREADS
FACEBOOK: HOME WRECKER 
FACEBOOK: HOME WRECKER: THE BROOKLYN AND BO CHRONICLES 
AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE
TWITTER

8 Slices of cake
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/8-slices-of-cake-melanie-toye/1114675541
http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/281812
LinkedIn