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Reposted from:

I was amazed by Stephen King's memoir on writing, but am having trouble taking his advice. It's not easy, getting into my short story for December while I let my NaNoWriMo2015 practice novel Rough Draft rest for 6 weeks (ala Stephen King: On Writing).

So I hope you all, dear readers, will help hold me to account: This Week I want to finish planning the 10k words in large: Setting, Conflict(s?), Master Scenes and Protagonist character-building.

1st question: is a short story long enough to have both external and internal conflict??

2nd q: do people bother classifying the genre for a short story?


Public Service Announcement (mostly for American citizens of voting age living in the USA at the moment) from my GoodReads book in (reading) progress:

"Call, write, and visit your government officials and educators and share your insights. Let them know there are better answers. Stand up and tell them it is time to invest in the lives of poor and abandoned children.
Work in your community to reach out and help Invisible Children live among us as productive and healthy citizens.
Visit our website:
Use our ongoing web dialogue to post
your interests and findings:
Share ... Most importantly, be active and concerned for the abused and neglected children in your community."


In Solidarity with All Kind People,

(like author Trice, JrROTC friend Tammy, loyal friend Elaine, loyal activist friend Felice, and an allied Librarian)
Peace via Cooperation and Non-Cooperation,
3rd of December, 12015 HE
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originally posted 24.11.12015 HE on:

autobiography, cooperation, healing, health, mywritings, nanowrimo, recovery, survivors, tools Edit

Short story: glad I smiled at someone I did not know -who thanked me, and made me grateful to be alive, back in 2005. And also today.

Less short version of the story:
Ok, so after a useless day yesterday of only 1100 words written, and desperate fears of 8 more days zero, (I have another 10k words to write), I was reflecting on the use, or lack thereof, of my life.
moving morose meditation on beauty to bottom…

When I lived in Izmir, that summer I took long walks on Saturday afternoons. I had the habit of smiling, or at least nodding, to every person I saw because frankly, I hoped someone would smile or nod back at me. At least acknowledge me as a fellow human being, as I tried to do, even passing the homeless people lining the streets as you go into the Metro (DC).

So, I nodded at a lady in passing, never met her, just kept going because I was too tired to say Gunaydin (Good Morning/afternoon in Turkish), and my Turkish was only rudimentary any way.
Then I heard a call behind me. I turned to see that woman walking back toward me, and her eyes were glistening.
She put her hand on my chest, nothing scary, nothing sexual, just an ordinary safe contact, and said, in very simple Turkish that was clear and slow, that in five years in Izmir, no one had every greeted her. She thanked me, and I nodded in return, too moved to get out even one word of Turkish. We both turned and went our own ways. And now, over ten years later, I am glad that I smiled at a random person whom I had never met, and never saw again.
I hope that I can share that joy with …

On the uselessness of being beautiful:
I have always hated being called pretty, beautiful, fine, foxy, etc, and being thanked for existing by some guy who apparently thought I was the equivalent of a painting on the wall for him to admire. well, not so useful. But when YOU (any of you, dear readers!!) smile, you too are beautiful, no matter what you look like. You are beautiful, and USEFUL, when you smile at another human being just to acknowledge that he (or she) too, exists, and is worthy of recognition as a human being.
Smiles, (2000 more words to go, it is 3:30pm -aghh!!)
24 November, 12015 HE
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My second practice novel actually started on Wattpad , but much easier to track the deadline on the NaNoWriMo2015 website, has taught me several things about managing Depression (or PTSD -> anger->depression, sort of...).

First: Making a deadline feels good, even if it is Just/Only YOUR deadline. You DID it.
Second: Physical activity every day, like running or dance, etc, is, at least for me, imperative (and also a sun lamp).
Third: Making a deadline a second time, better than you did the first time, proves you can repeat the feat, thus showing discipline and perseverance. This makes me feel like less of a waste of oxygen, provided I can find a way to use that to help other folks.
Writing 1.) When writing your first/second/fifth practice novel, be sure to have a physical workout routine, preferably involving boxing gloves, AND several people to talk to about all of the crap your writing will drag out of you.

(Remember NOT to use the gloves on the people...)

Writing 2.) For me, at least, plan the ending first...
Writing 3.) Plan setting, time and weather for each scene, not just the plot!!
Writing 4.) Outline by scene, not by # of words (I outlined by 300wds, which ended up driving me nuts toward the end...)
Writing 5.) Do not write a chapter per file, it is a formatting nightmare to insert 18 files (one for each chapter) into one 'book' file on an exhausted day 28!
Writing 6.) Lay out the chapter plan on one large calendar in the same notebook (if at all possible) as the planning notebook (and resist the temptation to plan each chapter on small scraps of paper!! You cannot believe the number of scraps I now have floating around...).
7.) Start on day one, and don't punish yourself for not planning ahead. A planner is not a pantser, and you will feel annoyed if try to write stream-of-consciousness just because you have 2000 words to finish That Day.

Better to take the day to plan out the next two scenes and write them the next day, at least for me.

I found that when I knew the time of day and year and weather as well as what the MC was supposed to do in the next couple of scenes, I could just imagine the flow and zap, 2000 words came out of no where (I did NOT say 2000 Good Words, but that is for the next 3 or 4 re-writes!!!).

and the real

Writing 7.) Set a new notebook aside for the 30-Day 50k challenge, because it will turn into at least a year, and probably 80k words. Before it goes back down to 60k again.


In Solidarity with All Kind People,
Peace via Cooperation and Non-Cooperation,

29 November 12015 HE

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    A woman came up to me, after a Zembekiko at a Greek festival in the Boston area, and asked me
'What do you feel when you dance?'  -I had to ask her what she meant; she explained that I seemed to be in another world, as if I were having a spiritual experience, when I danced.  
   Upon reflection, I had to admit that she was right -the beautiful music of the Mediterranean, the Balkans, even of those wild places where men danced with swords in hand, or like Zorba, gone mad with grief -those mournful yet insistent strains pulled me into some place where life existed.   A place, maybe the only place, where I felt alive.

   For me, spirituality seems to be that thing that gives meaning to life, a reason to keep going day after day, eating, breathing.  Why bother?  Because there is beauty in this world, and each person has a particular way of looking at it -a distinctive way of seeing the world. 

For me, writing makes me understand and remember how it felt to be alive, throwing myself into the air, reaching into the clouds, stretching into the breeze.  When the words overwhelm me, refusing to leave me alone, writing them down is the only escape. 
But then, they demand to be pondered.
The emotional work always follows the meaning -is it possible to be happy, and why does that matter?  Action matters.  But thoughts and feelings affect actions.

So I use four criteria to order my days:

1.  An action that gives meaning to my life: either dance or write each day,
2.  A thought that adds to my emotional stability each day, either comprehending my reasons for feeling/behaving a certain way, or meditation on some feeling and the causes behind that feeling, leading to a decision on how to classify and use that feeling in the future.
3.  A physical action that furthers my goals for reaching my body's fullest potential (running a marathon, for example),   and 
4.  An action that furthers my goals for developing my fullest personal intelectual potential (reading a certain number of pages in Turkish, for example).

For me, these four things represent my personal responsibility to reach my fullest potential as a human being, spiritually (if that exists), emotionally, physically and intellectually.  Now, I wonder if and how I can help others do the same?
Shira "Holocene/Human Era" Destinie
20 August, 12015 HE
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I find that perhaps it is difficult to write if one has on belief in oneself, thus difficult if one questions one's own right to exit. Low self-esteem must be causing my lack of will to write my own stories, as is is more sure that I am doing something useful for the world, earning my right to exist, if I am serving others.  Even when running? ShiraDest: Mon carnet 2015 Shira "Holocene/Human Era" Dest. 23 June, 12015 HE
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I have just ended draft # 6 of my first practice novel, a Biblical SF/Fantasy "speculative fiction" work, which seeks to show possible perspectives of the women in Genesis, chapters 1-5.

(If you wish to read it, feel free, and please let me know your thoughts. It actually did get good reviews from two good friends, fwiw:

Now, I am working out my next story plot, choosing from several historical novel ideas I have been trying to ignore for a few years.

27 December, 12014 H.E. (Holocene/Human Era)

(Glad to have finished this first practice novel, as I have learned much in the writing of it...)

Read, Write, Dream, Teach !

17 March, 12016 HE
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  He had humbled me, taking my honor from me, declaring me his wife.  Taken from me my virtue, my obedience, taking my reason and even my will, nearly my life.  When I could withstand the pain no longer, and cared not whether I lived or died, as he said I would, I cried out.  Not to his God, but to my teacher, a woman of valor.  Now, five years later, he had seen me, telling me he forgave me for ruining his life, and putting his arm around me, told me that he wanted me back.  That I was still, and always would be, his.  Destined to have his children.  Destined to obey him.  I said, feeling the stiff collar of my uniform, that I had always only wanted this, his arm around me, his affection, this was all I ever wanted.  And he sneered, pushing me away, anger and punishment written in his face, as when he pushed my head toward his manhood, ordering me to put my mouth where I would rather have vomitted.  He had pushed me then, too, away, but then fallen atop me, not stopping until the pain was all I could see.  Now, the pain was emotional, rejected by the one person who had taken my honor, and now derisively denigrated me, refusing even to respect the rank I wore, so hard earned, on my sharply creased Class A daily dress uniform.  My status as an officer meant nothing, as had my pain, my wishes, my belief in his promises, his prophecies, my obedience, to him.  My faith, never enough, was now entirely broken, symbolized by the officer´s rank on my uniform.  I straightened my posture, lifted my head, as I boarded the train, and he watched, leering.

   Now, five years later, in a library, where I had always thought myself safe, here he was.  Appearing out of nowhere, advancing toward me, demanding to be heard.  I fled his angry eyes, his voice, that same tone, the same smell as each time he would grapple me to the floor, my face still stinging from his slaps, pressing the breath out of me as he reminded me never to question him, the pain beginning afresh, grating as he tore in, once again, to where he hoped to force my body to bear him fruit.  I ran to the stairs, my books thrown in my bag hastily over my shoulder, as I prayed he could not follow before I found shelter, reliving the feeling of his weight crushing me into the floor, searing my birth canal, now forever closed.  I fled, humiliated, vowing to leave even at the cost of losing a scholarship that had granted me life, not knowing how I would survive now, not halfway through my studies.  This scholarship had given me hope, purpose, a way to live.  Now, the monster who was to protect me, get me out of the frying pan and into school, putting me into a caldron of his own instead, had returned, for me.  How many times would he return, seeming more angry each time, and why now, when I was nearly on track again, steering my course to a life of meaning, succeeding and planning to live.  To give back to the community, contribute and make others proud.  Where could I go that he would not find me, again advancing upon me?  Not in a uniform, this time, I felt lost, as I ran, without any cover, source of strength to fall back upon, to hide from this disgrace.
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Journal Article: ‘A Theoretical Framework for Shared MonetaryGovernance’ International Journalof CommunityCurrency Research 15(A) ISSN 13259547, 2011.
Book: “Shared Monetary Governance”, ISBN978-3-639-26780-8, VDM Publishing, August, 2010.
Thesis: May 2010, Department of Social Policy, University of Bath, United Kingdom.
Poem: “Lost in a Rose”, Concrete Wolf Poetry Quarterly Issue Number 2. 2001
Classes and Talks or PRESENTATIONS by SHIR
Dvar Tikkun (social justice related talk): “TakomaTime”, 17 Dec. 2010, TLS, Washington, DC.
Class presented for adults: “Mishnah Gittin and Community Empowerment via LocalCurrencies“Mifnei Tikkun Ha-Olam"”, DC Beit Midrash,16 August 2010, JCC Washington, DC.
Talk: Re´eh -“Time Banks: Loan Remission Step Two”, Adas Israel Traditional Egalitarian Minyan,7 August 2010, Washington, DC.
Presentation: "Community Empowerment through LocalCurrencies" at The Bell, July 2010, Bath,UK.
Presentation: "Green Money and Community Empowerment:Local Currencies as a project ofTikkun Olam", AdasIsrael 2010 Tikkun Leil Shavuot , May 18th-19th, DC.
Presentation: “La Gobernanza Compartida del Dinero”, por la RedCreativa, 2009, Puerto Morelos,Quintana Roo, Mexico.
Presentation: “Shared Monetary Governance” Poster at 2008Heterodox Economics Conference,Cambridge, UK.

(I hadn't realized how much I did how quickly in DC: no wonder I was exhausted in 3.5 years...)

Read, Write, Dream, Teach !

8 March, 12016 HE

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