Yes, It’s About Grammar (And, Yes, You Need This Little Lesson)

2014-05-08 11.52.45

Libby does NOT care even a little bit, but as she is a dog, I’m gonna give her a pass on the grammar lesson.

Every once in a while, I just can’t take it anymore. And by “it”, I mean all those words used incorrectly that pop up in the newspaper or across social media or even out of the mouths of candidates in their TV commercials.

Oy.

Thank goodness, I have the means in which to right the writing world. And so when I have one of those moments when I just want to scream like a crazy woman, “NO! It’s not effect, it’s affect! Affect! Affect!“, I can sit myself down and mostly rationally expound on “Two Little Words Used Incorrectly.”

If you know the difference between the use of “affect” and “effect”, then you can save yourself a few minutes and go on your merry way, patting yourself on the back. But if you are scratching your head and wondering, “Hmmm. Do I know the difference between those two words?”, then please do yourself (and me) a favor and give it a read. Because honestly, y’all, I really can’t take it anymore.

 

 

A Tiny Library! (And Mom)

2009-07-09 13.08.51

Note Mom’s expression. I was doing something with Cathy-on-a-Stick.

Before I manage to get myself out of bed every morning, I’ll stall a bit. And this morning, I realized it was Mom’s birthday so I wished her a heavenly happy birthday. And then I laughed out loud because I could just hear my Mom saying, “Pfffft.” (Not that she was anti-birthday, but she didn’t have time for any wishing of “heavenly” birthday foolishness.)

I sure miss my mom, but I often hear her. Not out loud, y’all, just in my head. If I start writing about literally hearing my mom (or Dad or Mister Man or really, any dead person), then I hope someone will contact one of the Hall kidders and send them over to check on me.

Anyway, my mom had an opinion on just about everything and I’ll often hear one of those opinions at the strangest times. Like this morning, when I was reading about the latest Tiny Door news.

Y’all remember that I’m completely smitten with the Tiny Doors around the ATL. So now, the folks who do Tiny Doors are opening a Tiny Library.

What-can-go-on-a-bookWHAT??? I am beside myself! It’s a fundraiser where you can get your own teeny tiny book on a shelf in the teeny tiny library. So you can become an art patron for this fantabulous project as well as get a little promotion. Or maybe get a little creative. Or maybe just put your name on the spine of the teeny tiny book for the fun of it.

The point is, it’s a tiny book! In a tiny library! You can find out more about the library project at C4’s website. (And you might enjoy taking a look around C4, too. Lots of creative stuff!) And you don’t have to be from the ATL area to participate, either. So when I go to the Tiny Library to take a pic of my book, I’ll take a pic of yours.

Now, back to Mom and her opinion of this Tiny Library. Can you guess what I heard her say (still just in my head, y’all)?

a. What in the Sam Hill is this tiny library?

b. Well, isn’t that just darlin’.

c.  If I were you, I’d spend my hard-earned money on that.

d. For heaven’s sake, Cathy, that’s as silly as a heavenly birthday. Pfffffffft.

(Note that I often hear her voice. I don’t always listen.)

May is for Magic

pexels-photo-127053It’s no secret that I’ve had a spot of trouble this past year, getting my writing going. But I think I may have wandered back to the joy of words, the thrill of creating. I think that I may have found my mojo again.

Which is not to say that I’ve suddenly written up a dozen manuscripts or sold a handful of others. That’s not what mojo is about, friends. It’s about magic.

The kind of magic that happens when a batter is on a roll, seeing everything good that crosses the plate. Or when a lawyer keeps winning case after case against all odds, or even when a mom has one of those days when the kids are happy, everything in the house is working smoothly, and at the end of the day, pizza–that’s still hot when it gets to the table!

Mojo. It’s a wonderful thing when you have it in your life. So if you want to know how I got mine back–and how you can get yours back, too, in whatever you’re pursuing–then zip over to the Muffin and read all about it in “Getting Your Mojo Back.” 

And P.S. May all my Mom friends– in whatever way, shape, or form that takes for you– have a wonderful and mojo-filled Mother’s Day!

 

Shout Out to #RhymeRevolution!

I’m starting May with a big shout out to Rhyme Revolution!

I love this month long celebration of rhyme, even if I don’t really write that much rhyme. The thing is, I LOVE rhyme, I love learning the tricks of the rhyme trade from excellent rhymers/authors, and I just love being a part of Angie Karcher’s community.

You will, too, even though, yes, it’s a little late for you to win in the giveaways BUT it’s not too late for you to be a winner! Angie has tons of opportunities available if you want to improve your mad rhyming skills, so zip over to the fun stuff information and join up with her!

(And P.S. I’ve taken a class from Angie and she’s the bomb diggity as Youngest Junior Hall would say. Not sure what that means when he says it, but when I say it, it means you’ll get your money’s worth and more!)

Checking In, Sort Of

IMG_20170426_182421

The pic will make sense, eventually.

So I was outside, picking up my recycling bin (which is a maneuver fraught with anxiety for me since it was whilst picking up the recycling bin that I took a tumble down the driveway and lay there for 20 MINUTES waiting for Mister Man to come and investigate and when he did not, I somehow stumbled into the house and took the next twelve months sorting out the various bumps, bruises, cuts, sprains and strains associated with said tumble, taking the opportunity to complain to Mister Man whenever possible) when I saw my neighbor.

We don’t see each other often, so we had a little chat. And then he asked a simple question. To wit, “Do you work?”

Now, let’s not forget that I was already anxious (due to the whole recycling bin thing) and so I paused. And I don’t mean just a blip of a pause. I mean one of those really long and uncomfortable pauses. He clearly thought he had somehow wandered into some incredibly inappropriate waters and he began to flail around, apologizing, but really, there’s nothing wrong with asking a person if she works.

Except for me, it opened up the door to Angst and Uncertainty. A year ago, I would’ve said, “Oh, yes, I work at home. I’m a writer.” And then I’d explain how I don’t make a ton of money but I enjoy my work, blah-blah-blah. I’d have meant it, too.

But as I stood there on the edge of my driveway (and honestly, I considered catapulting myself down the slope so I wouldn’t have to answer the question put to me because I’d rather take another tumble than explain exactly what it is I am doing these days), I did not know what to say.

Do I work? Well…that required me to consider whether or not I was still a writer. Not to put too fine a point on it, but I think a writer should actually…you know…write. And to work as a writer, I think it might be necessary to put writing out there in the wide world. To try at least to make some money from writing, even if the money’s not enough to pay your internet bill (which just went up again).

And here it just happened to be the end of the month, when I was thinking about checking in and realizing that April had been a not-so-very accomplished month. To tell the truth, April has been a very unaccomplished month (unless you count all the books I’ve read, which I don’t, because let’s be fair, reading is not writing).

So all of these thoughts were whirling about in my head as I stood there, not saying anything for the longest time. Until at last I said, “I work at home. I’m a writer.” And then we blah-blah-blahed about writing and I talked with one part of my brain while the other part of my brain was screaming like the old woman in Princess Bride, “LIAR!, LIAAAR! LIARRRRR!”

Who would’ve thought going to get the recycling bin could be such an emotional experience? (Well, besides the crazy emotions I always feel, getting the recycling bin.) But as I walked back into the house, I thought, Cathy, poop or get off the pot.

I’ll let you know how that comes out. (No pun intended.)