Death to the Stay-cay!
I am out of town and indulging. Who’d have thought this UnSavvy Traveler would be enjoying a cruise? But I am; oh, am I. All aboard and point me toward the all-day childcare!! See you in the new decade. Kiss-kiss.In response to an e-mail from an early riser, in response to this:
I am the personality type who, if you tell me to eat peas, I’ll eat carrots. And (with apologies to Clueless Cher) those only go in my mouth.
Busy morning, non? Off with the blog and on to submissions!
When I took his workshop on the novel at Centrum Writers’ Conference, Michael D. Collins shared an antidote to the dread BBS. The tincture continues to work for me (for short as well as longer pieces). Keep in mind that my best starts come from the organic rather than the structured side of the spectrum.
Collins begins with what he terms “islands of fiction”–writing into an image or a thought, no particular plan in mind. Not a “forever” commitment. He is searching for a voice that will hold him for three hundred pages. By the time he moves to hammering out a draft, he might have (get this!) about 100 pages of writing. Non-linear to be sure, but still; pages. Without the God-awful trying.
Get cracking, amigos.
PS. This thought generated by a question on this helpful publishing blog.
In context of our conversation about verbal abuse, one brave soul confided: “I spanked my daughter when she wouldn’t behave, and it worked. I’ve decided to keep spanking her.”
Certainly, spanking your child could reduce, even eliminate, whatever behavior is:
- driving you nuts;
- embarrassing you in public or in front of relatives; and/or
- preventing you from doing what you want to do, finally, for ten minutes, finally, to yourself.
Yep, spanking might work. While they are young and small.
The problem is, a child is destined to grow. Their sense of self and their personal power will strengthen. Each and every hit lays down a layer of fear on the child’s part, fear that is matched or exceeded by anger. Compile those layers like a lasagna, and the child is likely to:
- short-term take out their anger on smaller siblings and/or friends. This does not make for a child who is asked back for playdates. This makes for a lonely child; and
- long-term realize she or he no longer fears you. Good luck to you, in those teen years.
So let’s stop whacking them around, shall we? When I want to smack a child, I make sure to put the child in a safe place and keep at least ten feet between the little shit and myself. I keep the distance until I can again see that child as acting their age in response to a situation set up by the adult in charge.
Should I be the alleged adult allegedly in charge, I apologize.
Here is a good anti-spank resource, and here is another. And still one more.
A near-crisp morsel. I enjoy this blog for its insider publishing tips, but feel this one is insid-ier as it is written by an agent very willing to share information.
Chappy Channukah, one and all.
I am out of town and indulging. Who’d have thought this UnSavvy Traveler would be enjoying a cruise? But I am; oh, am I.
Should my imperialist, polluting, boatload-of-addiction sojourn reveal anything blog-worthy, I shall attempt to turn on and upload. If not, my dedicated readers (both of you) will be treated to a re-release of my essay “Japan, My Foot,” which originally published in the Seal Press anthology, The UnSavvy Traveler.
All aboard and point me toward the all-day childcare!! See you in the new decade. Kiss-kiss.
We yell at our children because we can.
In Hilary Stout’s recent for The New York Times, the former Wall Street Journal editor references a national study where, of the 1,300 parents asked, two-thirds “named yelling — not working or spanking or missing a school event — as their biggest guilt inducer … Parental yelling today may be partly a releasing of stress for multitasking, overachieving adults, parenting experts say.”
Hope them experts didn’t spend too much on that study.
The eye-opener here is not that we do it, or that damages the children we love purportedly more than anything on earth. What Stout brings forward is that we are finally defining yelling for what it is: verbal abuse.
My childhood was loaded with abuse. While the physical and sexual elements were more immediately life-threatening, the verbal abuse was no less damaging. No one believed me … UNTIL NOW. (Dum dum dum!!!!)
PS. Yelling at each other in front of our children is just as abusive.
We also yell at children because we still can. Most of the avenues that used to be considered a parent’s right are now punishable by jail time. Not so with our dirty little secret. It and emotional abuse remain the adult way to off-load onto the most vulnerable everything from frustration to fury. I call that abusive.
“Well, every parent yells.” True, but: desirable? Would it make a difference if you heard instead: “Every parent commits verbal abuse.” If: ”My parents yelled at me, and I turned out okay,” then: “My parents verbally abused me.”
After I yell at my children, I apologize. To them. “I am sorry I yelled at you.” I resist the urge to add, “Because you (list offenses).” That can come later, in a low-key chat. “Hey, loved offspring; when you yadada yadada yadada, I thought/felt (choose all that apply): Anger. Fear. Guilt. Shame. Lonely.
It doesn’t matter how Loved Offspring responds, or even if. What matters is that I apologized.
Bless his cotton socks, Sherman Alexie rocked The Nation last Tuesday. As staunch as ever in his ideals, Alexie took on the digitalization of books in a manner which out-colberted Colbert. He ran that interview with grace and humor, going so far as to get the last word.
Alexie, whose recent is War Dances and much acclaimed, says that while he will adapt his art somewhat to get when he can out of technology, we will not allow his books into digital format.
I don’t know that I will adopt Alexie’s stance , mostly because I haven’t published any books.
No posts in a long time, sports fans. Engrossed in a World Series-quality attack of peri-menopause. Appear to be at the bottom of the ninth; hooray! (More blogs later.) First pitch of the new season (blogging; not menopause) thrown by The New York Times‘ article: For Some Parents, Shouting Is the New Spanking.
SCENE: Interior of Town Hall. High, white walls with arching, stained glass roof. Very cool. In the front pews, the writers and techies mingle for dress rehearsal.
Me: Jenny, what are you wearing tonight?
Jenny. Very straight. Nice black pants and a white blouse. Matching black jacket. Although I did bring a gold-painted velvet coat that I bought in Venice.
Me: Wear the coat. Then I can wear my apricot-velvet pirate captain coat.
Jenny: I’d be the most overdressed woman in Washington State.
Me: I’ll be wearing an apricot-velvet pirate captain coat. (Turns to Vikram Chandra.) How ’bout you, Vikram? Jacket and tie?
Vikram: I don’t own a tie. I’m ethnic. People don’t expect a tie.
“It’s never too late to have a well-adjusted adolescence.” Jenny Boylan.
