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The Red Bra by Jina Bacarr

July 11, 2014 by in category Archives tagged as , , , , , , , , ,

We writers are notorious for writing in our pajamas and bathtubs au naturel…

And we love to give our heroines a killer wardrobe…and those stilettos, wow!

But what about her underwear?

You’ve heard of the red shoes…why not the red bra?

When I found this ultra sexy photo on www.Dreamstime.com, I knew I had to write a poem about a lady’s obsession with her underwear…

The Red Bra

Intrigued am I by underwear
A subject we don’t often dare

 
To discuss
But we make such a fuss
 
About what goes under our baby tees
It’s a form of modern striptease

We wiggle and shake, squeeze and tug
Hoping our lover will not shrug

But search for his prize

Under our T-shirt disguise
 
What will he find to please his eye? 
And makes us giggle, laugh, and sigh?

A lacy bra so pretty and red 
And then it’s off we go eagerly to bed

No losers here when all is said and done 
It’s a game we play and so much fun!
 

Best,
Jina

www.facebook.com/JinaBacarr.author
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Accidents Happen by Kitty Bucholtz

July 9, 2014 by in category Archives tagged as , ,
John buying his new motorcycle

You may know that my husband John was in a motorcycle accident four months ago. He broke his leg badly but, as I’m fond of saying, his brain and internal organs are all in their original packaging. He’s alive, and that’s all that really matters to me.

That being said, I was on a major writing roll when the accident happened, and I’ve written very little since. I had my year planned out with my production schedule, speaking schedule, etc. all posted on my calendar in color-coded sticky notes. Those of you who have taken my goal setting and time management class know what I’m talking about. And you also know what I have to do now – hit the restart button and move all the stickies to new dates.

The thing is, that’s not the only hard thing that has happened this year. John’s current project ended (he works in the entertainment industry); we’re packing up our apartment in preparation to move to the next job even though we don’t know when or where that will be; our car decided it can’t go on any longer; and we had another death in the family so we had to put plane tickets on a credit card. There are days when, as blessed as you know you are, life just sucks.

But then one morning as you’re lying in bed trying to figure out how to juggle the day’s tasks, you remember that despite not having been on some of these roads before, you do know what to do. You accept that accidents happen in life – life happens – and you hit the restart button.

You remind yourself that you only have to move through the now. You don’t even have to be sure how you’re going to handle the afternoon. You only have to decide the first thing to do today. Maybe even the first three things. You tell yourself that you choose to be positive in spite of life’s difficulties – because we all know that going through difficult times with a bad attitude only makes it worse.

You keep doing the next thing that needs to be done. On a To Do list that feels a mile long, when you don’t know which is the most important thing to do next, you just choose one. You keep moving. You remember to be grateful for the things that go well, no matter how small. And before you know it, you’ve made it through another day. Not just survived, you had a few moments of thriving – you smiled at a stranger, had a short but nice conversation with a friend or neighbor or family member, you got a few things done that needed to be done.

And soon, you realize that a week has gone by, a month, four months, and you’re still standing. The things that haven’t gotten done, including the book that was to be published months ago that still isn’t finished, they will be done eventually. Life has ebbs and flows, sunny days and storms, accidents and accomplishments, and you have what it takes to get through them all.

You do.

Kitty Bucholtz decided to combine her undergraduate degree in business, her years of experience in accounting and finance, and her graduate degree in creative writing to become a writer-turned-independent-publisher. Her novels, Little Miss Lovesick and Unexpected Superhero, and the free short story, “Superhero in Disguise,” are now available at most online retail sites. Superhero in the Making will be released this summer.

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Wonder

June 24, 2014 by in category Archives

Isn’t that a remarkable word?

I was sitting with a writer friend–a literary type–and we were talking about things in general, delving into personalities, actions, motives,  assumptions…speculating on scenarios.  And in the midst, she noted, “Perhaps I wonder too much.”

Hmmmm.  Well for her, in many ways wondering was her job, as it is for most  writers.

And I have to admit, I wonder too.  Life is filled with so many mysteries, so many different perspectives, so many different layers of truth.  Such richness.  Indeed, such wonder.  Can there be too much?

Well…it depends how much time you have to spare wondering.  Because it can be a fairly time consuming habit!  Indeed, it can expand to encompass all time.

Here’s my most recent wondering experience (alas, not a nice one):

Yesterday, I had the unpleasant–I think almost entirely female experience–of going to the Womens’ Room in a restaurant and sitting on a wet toilet seat (lighting was low).

Now I have spent years wondering why a woman who clearly is overly obsessed (in my opinion) about GERMS would decide the right thing to do is urinate all over the toilet seat such that someone else may sit on a seat they have fouled.

Really?  You couldn’t lift the seat with your foot and hover over the bowl? It’s excellent for tightening those flabby thigh muscles!  Or just use the often available toilet seat cover?

The good news is that urine is almost always sterile, so as disgusting an experience as it is, the likelihood of any harm (aside of rather strange wet spots on the back of one’s pant legs) is minuscule.

But the hypocrisy of this germ-phobic human dumping her waste so that others may sit in it just boggles my mind.

Perhaps it’s an aggressive act? Like a hacker sending a computer virus just for the fun of messing up strangers’ lives? That at least offers me some logic.  Perhaps the world is filled with angry souls, acting out in small ways.  Perhaps, as I wipe myself, I should send a silent pitying prayer to the offender, rather than a not-so-silent curse! Perhaps….

Though I have to admit, I am, in general, very pro-germ.  If I pause to reflect (yes, OK, wonder) on where obsessive cleanliness will get you, it is not a place I want to be.  I want my body trained–like an athlete–to handle germs easily, without breaking a sweat.

Hey, I eat things I’ve dropped on the floor, and I’m still alive. No, I’m not allergic to anything–my body is a finely tuned germ-ingesting instrument! For me, the germ phobia road leads to a version of becoming David, the bubble baby.

I celebrate a world filled with good things and bad things.  And I wonder….

Isabel Swift

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Sew Up Your Novel

June 15, 2014 by in category Archives tagged as , , ,
It is true. I began writing on a crazy dare.
I was an account supervisor in a large advertising agency in San Francisco. My client was married to Danielle Steel. When I was told she was one of the most successful, most prolific authors of the day I uttered those ridiculous words, “I bet I could do that – I bet I could write a book.”
Well, my colleague dared me to do it so I dug in with both heels. At the very least, I would get a rejection and prove that I had tried. Maybe then she would stop laughing at my ridiculous boast. I tackled this challenge in the same way I tackled a marketing plan: by asking questions. How was a book published? Who did I have to talk to in order to get a book published? What kind of book had the greatest chance of being published? Finally, does one actually write a book?
The first three questions were easily answered. Even without the Internet (or computers) I was able to find out exactly how, who, and what. All the answers led to Harlequin. No agent needed, a synopsis and a partial submitted to editors directly and editorial guidelines were offered for each line. The only problem was that I had no idea how to write a book even though I had read hundreds. I could think of only one thing to do.
I would learn to write a book the same way I learned to sew – by studying and following a pattern.
It seemed appropriate that the pattern would be based on one of Danielle Steel’s novels. I can’t remember which book I chose, but I clearly remember three nights spent in front of a fireplace with that book, wine and a yellow marker. I read each page and highlighted the ‘seams’ of her work. 
  • ·      When was the reader introduced to the main characters
  • ·      Where were the dramatic plot points
  • ·      When and where were the emotional reveals
  • ·      How many pages were there of expository
  • ·      How many pages were there in the book, for that matter
  •      What role did secondary characters play and how often were they mentioned

When I was finished I had a simple, working plan – a pattern, if you will – and I was thrilled. I wrote for months and when I was done I had exactly the right number of pages, all the characters came in on cue and the plot was revealed appropriately.
Yawn!
Writing my book was like making a plain dress. Even I knew that, while I had meticulously followed the pattern, my work was lacking. My book was in dreadful need of buttons and bows to make it unique, to make every editorial head turn when I walked into the room via my novel.
When I understood this, I had the final piece of the pattern. Every book needs the right foundation – the proper pacing, a solid cast of characters, the right setting – but it also needs style. Style is what sets an artist apart from a painter, a fashion designer from a seamstress and a writer from an author.

I am writing my twenty-ninth book and I have learned a great deal but I still follow the pattern I created years ago after analyzing one of Danielle Steel’s books. Now I add on my own unique buttons and bows that are expressed through my voice, my observations and my personal inspiration. I can only hope that someday a writer will take one of my books, sit in front of the fireplace with a marker and ask, how did she do that? If she pays close attention, she will be able to see my pattern and then she will add her own buttons and bows.
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