I am as smart as my border collie.

Dear Lynn,

Here is my response to your email suggesting I may have Age Related Attention Deficit Syndrome–

Ha! Yesterday morning as I walked the yard, I decided to plant one last pack of flowers in a new bed I had placed dollar store fencing around as a deterrent to wandering pets, etc. I tucked the packet inside my sweat pants waistband, then decided I would also carry two empty pots out to the vegetable garden and use some of the great soil there to fill them for more seeds and flowers. My dog, Sox, came along and didn’t he stomp right over one of my carrot patches! I hollered at him and thought I’d better take several sections of fence from around the flower bed and put it around the carrot patches. I set the pots down with my trowel, fetched the fencing, stuck it around the carrot patches and noticed all the weeds around the pumpkin patch. I spent a few minutes pulling some when the cumulative effects of 2 big mugs of coffee suddenly hit. I quickly returned to the kitchen where John was preparing to make a roast beef for Sunday dinner. He couldn’t find his favorite pan, so I stopped on the way to the bathroom and together we found another pot for him to use. Would I chop the onions? OK. My colonic urges had subsided, so I went out to the storage room, got an onion and proceeded to chop it with my new Ginsu knife (laughing and bragging about my expertise as I whacked away). Finally I made it to the bathroom and believe me I wasn’t in there long. I went out back to fill the pots and plant the seeds. There were the empty pots and trowel but no pack of seeds. Oh yeah, I had stuck them in the waistband of my pants. But, no they weren’t there. Not anywhere in the yard, by the flower garden, on the front porch, or anywhere in the house or storage room, either. John got the roast started and helped me look around the yard again. During the day, I spent another 30 minutes trying to find the damn seeds. I never found them. I figure someday the plumber will pry open the sewage tank and be knocked to the ground and devoured by giant, mutant columbines.

This morning there were paw prints all through the new flower bed.

Damn dumb dog.

This is a test of posting by email

Stray cats and roving bands of raccoons have disrupted my sleep the last two nights, the coffee has no taste except brown, I have a sinking feeling I’m coming down with a cold, and despite all my rearranging of porch furniture and flower pot shuffling, my tiny front porch does not in any way resemble a photo-shoot in Southern Living –so why should an attempt to add a email address function to my blog work right either? 
Why?  Because if it doesn’t I’m going to smack Ed square on the top of his fuzzy head and drink something alcoholic with lunch, which I’m planning on having at 11 am. 
That’s why, dang it.

A Blog by Any Other Name. . . .

Recently, after lamenting to a friend about how self-conscious I feel when I write on my blog (so self-conscious I sometimes force my cat, Ed, to write my posts), several thoughts occurred to me: #1. I needed a glass of wine and #2. I hardly ever have two thoughts at once. Kidding!

My thoughts actually were : #1 No one really reads my blog except me and Ed and # 2: I take blogging way too seriously.

Indeed. A blog need not be the serious, self-indulgent blabberings of a”blogger.” A blog can be the silly, self-indulgent result of a late morning glass of cheap wine.

And so, in keeping with my new devil-may-care attitude, here are six things the word”blog” puts me in mind of:

1. A solidified clump of grease and hair.
2. Something a dental hygienist scrapes off the front of her uniform after a particularly challenging flossing session.
3. The sound Ed makes while striving to cough up a moth.
4. The stuff that collects under the breast of a large woman on a really hot, humid day.
5. Malevolent fog.
6. The sound a big woodpecker would make if it dropped dead mid- flight and fell 20 feet down into the mud.
   

And finally, the WordPress spell checker highlighted “blog” and suggested “blag.” This could mean another couple of thoughts. Stay tuned. -Dana

A Great YA Writer’s Weblog

Dana here. Ed, my summer-loving writing buddy , says he’s going to sleep this frosty spring day away until sunlight fills his favorite western -facing window on the Hollow and warms up his window seat.  Oh, to be able to snooze like Ed; I can practically hear him snoring from here.  But, I digress.

 An author friend of mine, Bonnie Doerr, sent me a link to The Wild Rose Press blog site, to share with teens and YA fans of all ages.  Bonnie and I met in eighth grade, became friends , and introduced our older siblings to one another.  Her brother and my sister have been married for many years.  Because of that family tie, Bonnie and I didn’t lose track of one another over the decades.

I am not sure she was planning a series when she first penned  “Kenzie’s Keys”  (published in 2002 by Laurel & Herbert, Inc.).  The mystery, set in the Florida Keys, is about  twelve-year-old Kenzie Ryan’s struggle to protect the tiny Key deer from poachers. Doerr’s environmentally themed novel predated Al “Green” Gore’s” book. It’s perhaps inevitable such a timely topic would snare Doerr a go-ahead for a YA series. 

For more info, interviews, and other interesting stuff, click this link:  http://twrpclimbingrose.blogspot.com/
 Time to check out the sunny spot in the driveway where the dog is sleeping.  Apparently I am the only one around with any work to do.  So long for now- Dana

Unemployment Causes Crime Spree

ED’S EYE ON THE HOLLOW

Hi, Ed here.  The latest news is the crime wave, or to be more exact, the crime ripple, here in the hollow.  Recently, after Dana, my esteemed blogmaster, and her brood were fast asleep, a robber snuck into three unlocked vehicles in the driveway and stole all the cash and a pricey pair of sunglasses.  Well, to be fair, the dastardly thieves left three dimes in the mister’s car and about three dollars in change, and a cheap pink, frosted lipstick in Dana’s.  Frugal, that lady, the exception being some very nifty kitty toys and brushes which I am sure the resident feline appreciates.  Anyhoo, let me tell you, there was outrage in this household the next morning when the robbery was discovered.

The erstwhile Officer DeFrank stopped by and offered this: “Now, what did we learn from this?  Always lock our cars!”  Didn’t even dust for paw, I mean fingerprints, bag any hairs (That would have pointed an accusatory finger at the clueless “Sox” , the 65 pound border collie who often sheds profusely when Mommy takes him for lovely rides through the countryside, leaving the cat here alone with a few, paltry Whisker Lickin’s.) 

But,I digress–The super sleuth jotted down a few facts in between his yawns, his parting words of wisdom being, “You know, many people are out of work right now in this area, and that’s why we see so much of this sort of thing.”  Right.  Many Hollow residents, upon losing their jobs and signing up for unemployment, turn to burglarizing their neighbors’ cars for spare change. 

The mister installed a motion detector spotlight.  It works extremely well, although it does cause cars full of friends and neighbors, (thankfully, none of who are unemployed) to scream and  shield their eyes with their hands as they pull into the driveway.  However, the new device did enable Dana and the mister to spot a late night prowler.  About 2am, a mangy, and  if I do say so myself, butt ugly, cat crept from car to car  snooping around, apparently with the intent of breaking in one of them to find some snacks or bits of dog kibble that may have dropped out of Sox’s droopy gums.

We found out later the cat had recently lost his job.  Officer DeFrank was right on the mark with that observation.

That’s all for today.  I’ve got to go for my nap, now.   –Ed

An Effort in Futility: My Writing Life

My writing life has kicked the bucket and is presently swinging at the end of  a rope.  It is not even struggling; it hangs there passively, slobbering a little, waiting for the end.

And I was so gung ho about it all this morning.  Reading my Writer’s Market, jotting down ideas, chugging Maxwell House. Perhaps I was still slightly high from a couple strong bourbons I drank last night, or I was buzzed from caffeine. 

The morning high plunged downward, along with my blood sugar, after I got lost in some content on my rarely read Google reader, then on to the hellish Technorati.  That’s when I learned the truth about my writing life, indeed–the truth about my very existence.

 

I HAVE NO AUTHORITY. 

Zilch.  Zero.   -0 .

I not only have no authority, I don’t exist in blogdom, at least in the Technorati blogdom.  Like Govenor Palin in a world without without Tina Fey.    Like  George W. on innauguration day, or Gayle without Oprah.  If Technorati was Brangelina, I am their contraceptive.

Think I’ll get dressed and go outside to see if the dog knows me.  If he plays his cards right, I might even take him for a ride in the car. 

Adding Tags, I Hope

I am writing this quicky post to add tags I hope will refer readers to my  REALLY IMPORTANT POST, “Six Tips…”  ’cause for the life of me, I can’t figure out any other way to add relevant tags to a published post!  Any comments on this subject will be either:

A.  Welcomed with much fanfare and confetti.

or

B.  Sneered at and referred to as “crap.”

Thank you. 

Six Sales Tips to Help Beginning Writers Conduct Interviews

I have published versions of the following column in the Writer’s Digest Forum and online at the Blue Oasis –Boost for Writers.  The six sales tips help me in many nerve-wracking situations. 

 

My career in sales helped me become a confident interviewer. When, after several years of writing for a daily newspaper, my editor strongly suggested I segue from short humor to regional features, I hesitated. I had never conducted an interview before–could I handle it? Then it dawned on me–I already possessed the skills needed for fearless interviews. I had acquired them during long hours working in retail sales. Sales training and experience had molded me into a darned good salesperson despite my less than aggressive nature. I decided to take the selling techniques I had learned and apply them to my interviews. If you are nervous about interviewing sources for your articles or fiction, the following six sales tips will help you proceed with confidence and end up with great quotes, realistic details, priceless insights, and a list of reliable sources.

1. Visualize success :  Prior to an appointment, picture the most self-assured person you know conducting the upcoming interview. Then imagine that you are the relaxed interviewer. See yourself acting in the same professional manner.

2. Smile during initial contact :  Whether face to face, or over the telephone, your smile inspires confidence and puts your source at ease. When conducting a telephone interview, a smile actually changes your tone of voice, making it radiate enthusiasm. (Try smiling the next time you record an announcement for your voice mailbox–you’ll hear the difference.)

3. Never prejudge people :  Appearances can be misleading, and first impressions are often way off base. Stay open-minded. The person who initially rubs you the wrong way or doesn’t “look the part” may prove to be fascinating or at the very least, informative.

4. Actively listen and restate :  Don’t merely record information. Really listen to the responses–”hear” between the lines. Respond to answers by occasionally restating important points. For example: “So what you’re saying is, you feel emu farming compromises your vegetarian beliefs….” The twin skills of actively listening and restating will make you appear sharp as a tack and will train you to quickly pick up on a new slant to a story or perfect sidebar to accompany it.

5. Ask open-ended questions :  Avoid asking closed questions that elicit yes or no answers (“Do you like emus?” or “Have you lost your mind?”) Instead, ask “Why?” (“Why would anyone want to raise emus?”) Begin questions with “What, tell me, or describe to me….”

 6. Use positive body language:   Look directly at the person you’re interviewing, and lean slightly forward. Be still, don’t fidget. When your body language conveys sincere interest, you instantly inspire trust. When people trust you, they relax and open up. After a decade of telephoning experts ranging from neurosurgeons to Buddhist monks, after shouting questions from edges of swimming pools, across noisy barrooms, and over the heads of snarling dogs, and after conducting interviews in coal mines, horse barns, and brain injury centers, I still occasionally suffer from a case of butterflies. Positive thinking and recalling the six sales tips help me get the job done. And if I disregard one tiny incident in a nursing home when a hearing impaired resident hollered, ” That’s the stupidest question I ever heard!” I haven’t blown an interview yet. Practice the six tips and you’ll feel like a veteran interviewer in no time.

New writing partner makes debut

My writing partner, Ed, made his debut on my From the Hollow blog.  If you are interested in some new, interesting tales of the people and critters of the Hollow, please visit the site and click on the “New Voice” page.  Good job, Ed.

The Twitterings of Birds and Politicians

I wrote this column last year.  This seems a fitting time to post it on “From the Hollow.”

Birds on the Stump

“…Every man has a right to be heard; but no man has the right to strangle democracy with a single set of vocal chords.” Adlai Stevenson

 

My sister recently burst into song–birdsong, that is. We were at the tail end of a telephone gab session when our chitchat segued from the presidential race to wild bird calls. “Blue jays have quite a repertoire of songs,” Carol explained. “One of them sounds just like a chimpanzee,” and she screeched so realistically I nearly dropped my cell phone into the pot of simmering gator parts, I mean spaghetti sauce. Thank heavens my melodramatic sibling doesn’t own a camera phone. Just imagining her blue jay/chimpanzee -like facial contortions made my weak eye shiver like a Jello shot at a polish wedding reception.

Terrified that Carol would launch into her celebrated medley of jungle bird calls, I hung up and opened a book on birdsongs.

Several chapters later I had an “Aha!” moment. Although I had never deliberately thought about politicians and birds at the same time (other than thinking Ross Perot looked like a plucked chicken), I now clearly saw similarities in their methods of communication.

Early 20^th century author and bird expert Aretas A. Saunder wrote, “Many birds communicate in a loud, harsh chatter, while others call out in an emphatic twitter. ” I immediately pictured Hillary, Barack, and John as birds–their sharp little bills open, loudly chirping at one another..

Here are a few striking examples of the bird/ politician connection:

Meadowlarks are capable of singing two songs at once, and politicians can talk out of both sides of their mouths: “Since 1968 there have been all these theories that I was running for this, that or the other. This country has enough problems without inflicting me on it,” said Ross Perot who shortly thereafter ran for president on the Independent ticket. Bird calls and songs can be maddeningly repetitious, and politicians have also used repetitive songs in their speeches. For example: A neighbor of mine was unable to fall asleep in his camper one summer night because a whippoorwill perched on his roof and whipped poor will 385 times in a row. In early spring of 2007 John McCain sang his answer to a question about his international policies:

“You know that old Beach Boys song, Bomb Iran? Bomb bomb bomb, bomb bomb Iran….”

 

 

 

The calls of both the white-crowned pigeon (“Coo-cooo”) and Bell’s vireo (“Tweedle-deedle dum”) cheerfully refer to their tiny bird-brains, and politicians say really dumb things that confirm our doubts about their IQs:

“It’s wonderful to be here in the great state of Chicago.” Dan Quayle “Outside of the killings, Washington has one of the lowest crime rates in the country,” said Mayor Marion Barry of Washington D.C.

 

Meadowlarks vary their songs from region to region. Barnstorming politicians change their tunes faster than a mockingbird on speed: “Wait a minute, I didn’t say ‘assassination.’ I said our special forces should ‘take him out,’ and ‘take him out’ can be a number of things, including kidnaping.” –Pat Robertson, clarifying his call to assassinate Hugo Chavez“He didn’t say that. He was reading what was given to him in a speech–” OMB director Richard Darman, explaining why President Bush wasn’t following up on a campaign pledge.  

Mockingbirds and catbirds mimic other birds’ songs. Politicians love to mock their rivals: “After one of his long-winded harangues, I suggested he (Hubert Humphrey) had probably been vaccinated with a phonograph needle.” Barry Goldwater 

The bohemian waxwing and Philadelphia vireo sing out “Seee,” or “See-me? Here-I-am! Up-here!” Politicians love to talk about themselves. “I like the color red because it’s a fire. And I see myself as always being on fire.” Arnold Schwarzenegger

“I’d forgotten how big a tourist attraction I am.” Newt Gingrich

 

 

A large shore bird called a willet sings a silly song, “pill, will, willet, kuk, kuk, kuk,”

Politicians often sound silly:“The problem of cat versus bird is as old as time. If we attempt to resolve it by legislation why who knows but what we may be called upon to take sides as well in the age old problems of dog versus cat, bird versus bird, or even bird versus worm….” Adlai Stevevson “Depends on what your definition of is is,” Bill Clinton 1998.

“I know something about being a government. And you’ve got a good one.” —George W. Bush 2002

 

On a final note, I’ll repeat the call of a mystery bird I call the “Pat Nixon bird.” I have never spotted it, but it sits in my maple tree and calls out “Reechard, Reechard, Reechard!” I suppose I should be relieved it isn’t butchering a Beach Boys song. Think I’ll go and phone my sister for an identification and a darned fine vocal impression.

 

 

 

 

“I purchased a gun when I was a young man. I’ve been a hunter pretty much all my life,” Mitt Romney once said, then later commented, “I’m not a big-game hunter. I’ve made that very clear…..”