Top 10 Blogs for Writers List is Out
Just sitting at my desk day after day trying to make something work with my writing. Dig this. For three days I was cheered because I stayed in first place in the most recent Helium.com writing contest. I figured I'd just write one more article even though I was a shoo-in to win. Today it all came crumbling down and the peers rated me so low I am not a contender. I wish I knew how the peers rate. I think I am a good writer. I do a lot of research and really knock myself out on each and every article I write. And then I find out it was all set on sand.
I have been applying for some more freelance gigs. Nothing too ambitious. Just part-time sort of fun article writing. I am wondering if Google's Knol really ends up paying anything. It's all AdSense money and I have never used that before. I am so sick of making nickle and dimes while I get my big chance at that overused want-ad word, "exposure." I need to make some money, not be exposed.
I am still plugging away at 30 poems in 30 days. Here's one poem I wrote about my 18-year-old son:
Bunny Boy
My son, the semi-grown man-child, memorizes rap music and says fuck too much.
He wanted something to love never having had a girlfriend and his Dad died.
Now he has a tiny, baby, long-eared, softer than baby hair, white and brown rabbit
That follows him wherever he goes.
It eats bright green, crunchy lettuce from his hand.
He makes little houses for it to crawl in and out from boxes.
I was there the first time the little bunny let him pet her with two extended fingers.
His touch was barely there, almost above her, as though he were petting her aura.
His smile was so gentle and loving as he petted her the gate to his heart was left
wide open.
Anyone could have walked right in. I sure did.
***
Anyhow, it came from my heart. My son is so precious with his rabbit, Biscuit. He would kill me if he ever read this poem, but I don't have to worry about either of my kids reading my blog.
Now I am working on a Helium.com Marketplace publisher request for an article that provides "a compelling view of life between the ages of 50 and 59." They want the "most interesting, scintillating or inspiring items of news that are occurring." All I came up with is that it's making big news that Baby Boomers are rethinking retirement in view of the economic situation in this country. Instead, they are looking into second and third careers. Some talk about having to work until they are 80. A survey of 50- to 65-year-old workers done for the federal government in August found that 29 percent of 55- to 59-year-olds plan to work beyond 65. And that was even before all the shit hit the fan on Wall Street. I'm sure it's worse now.
I better get some discipline with my writing life or I'm going to be one of the toothless ones asking, "Do you want fries with that?"
This is the authentic voice of an old woman who hopes she has learned some things to share. It is about transformation. It is becoming our true selves. It is finally about returning to Oneness. It is also about writing and recovery.
THE WRITING LIFE OF UPS AND DOWNS AND ALL AROUNDS
Top 10 Blogs for Writers List is Out
Just sitting at my desk day after day trying to make something work with my writing. Dig this. For three days I was cheered because I stayed in first place in the most recent Helium.com writing contest. I figured I'd just write one more article even though I was a shoo-in to win. Today it all came crumbling down and the peers rated me so low I am not a contender. I wish I knew how the peers rate. I think I am a good writer. I do a lot of research and really knock myself out on each and every article I write. And then I find out it was all set on sand.
I have been applying for some more freelance gigs. Nothing too ambitious. Just part-time sort of fun article writing. I am wondering if Google's Knol really ends up paying anything. It's all AdSense money and I have never used that before. I am so sick of making nickle and dimes while I get my big chance at that overused want-ad word, "exposure." I need to make some money, not be exposed.
I am still plugging away at 30 poems in 30 days. Here's one poem I wrote about my 18-year-old son:
Bunny Boy
My son, the semi-grown man-child, memorizes rap music and says fuck too much.
He wanted something to love never having had a girlfriend and his Dad died.
Now he has a tiny, baby, long-eared, softer than baby hair, white and brown rabbit
That follows him wherever he goes.
It eats bright green, crunchy lettuce from his hand.
He makes little houses for it to crawl in and out from boxes.
I was there the first time the little bunny let him pet her with two extended fingers.
His touch was barely there, almost above her, as though he were petting her aura.
His smile was so gentle and loving as he petted her the gate to his heart was left
wide open.
Anyone could have walked right in. I sure did.
***
Anyhow, it came from my heart. My son is so precious with his rabbit, Biscuit. He would kill me if he ever read this poem, but I don't have to worry about either of my kids reading my blog.
Now I am working on a Helium.com Marketplace publisher request for an article that provides "a compelling view of life between the ages of 50 and 59." They want the "most interesting, scintillating or inspiring items of news that are occurring." All I came up with is that it's making big news that Baby Boomers are rethinking retirement in view of the economic situation in this country. Instead, they are looking into second and third careers. Some talk about having to work until they are 80. A survey of 50- to 65-year-old workers done for the federal government in August found that 29 percent of 55- to 59-year-olds plan to work beyond 65. And that was even before all the shit hit the fan on Wall Street. I'm sure it's worse now.
I better get some discipline with my writing life or I'm going to be one of the toothless ones asking, "Do you want fries with that?"
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