Tag: being overwhelmed

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Near Death Experience and Writing by Darlene Jones

physio
provided by D. Jones

Being a pedestrian hit by a car means multiple injuries and critical condition, but it’s not all doom and gloom. Well, okay, 99.9% of it is, but there are a few bright humorous moments.

I know I’m lying on the ground in the middle of the road. “Where are my kids? Where are my kids?” I open my eyes and see my son bending over me.

“It’s okay, Mom. We’re right here.”

“Where’s my purse? Where’s my purse.”

I can’t see my daughter, but I hear her say, “It’s okay, Mom. I have it right here.”

So, you see, I have my priorities in the right order.

In the emergency room, I say, “I wear contacts.”

A nice young intern hovers over me. “It’s okay, we took them out.” He holds a contact lens case a couple of inches from my eyes. “See, I have them right here.” Maybe he’s not so nice after all. Or, maybe I’ve been babbling a little too much?

Weeks later I’m transferred from the trauma unit to the rehabilitation hospital. I lie in bed with casts from the top of my legs to the tips of my toes. My right arm has been so badly dislocated that it’s useless.

A nurse comes in to tell me I’ll be going to physio and occupational therapy. Physio first. I’m taken to a room that looks like something out of the Spanish inquisition. Weird contraptions on the walls, with belts and straps and hooks that menace the helpless patient.

“Mrs. Jones, what are you doing here?” says a bright young thing I recognize as a former junior high student.

“Sandra, what are you doing here?”

“I’m your physiotherapist.”

I look again at the instruments of torture. “Oh, God, I hoped you liked me.” Turns out we get along just fine.

One evening the tall skinny nurse’s aide who is my favorite staff member offers to give me a shower.

“How can we do that?” I ask gesturing to my casts. Not a problem for her. She wraps both my legs in green garbage bags, wheels me on a gurney to the shower room, proceeds with a shampoo, and sprays the top half of my body. Never has a shower felt so good…

To see the rest of this article and learn more about Darlene Jones, visit the ECS blog.

Thank you for taking the time to read this post. If you like it let me know and share it with others. See you next time, Toi Thomas. #thetoiboxofwords

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How to Avoid the Slush Pile by Stefan Vucak

First of all, what is as slush pile? Well, in the golden days of publishing, it used to be a large waste bin next to the submission editor’s desk where he would dump your book. Today, it’s likely to be the delete button on his e-mail Inbox. Either way, it’s bad news.

You have written your masterpiece and you are all fired up to mail it to every agent and publisher in the world, traditional or e-book. If you are self-publishing, you needn’t bother reading further.

Someone told me a long time ago that writing the book is the easy part. I spent a better part of six to nine months writing the damned thing. How can it be the easy part? All right, let’s look at your book using a very simple checklist.

  • Is it finished? Amazing how many writers approach an agent or publisher with a half-baked potato.
  • Is the book properly formatted? An agent or publisher may have specific requirements. Before submitting, it is prudent to make yourself aware of what they are.
  • Is the internal layout correct? This means, do your chapters start on a new page using Word’s page break function? Do you have tabs, extra spaces at end of a last sentence in a paragraph, manually centered headings, not spell checked? Starting a paragraph using the Tab key?
  • Has the book been thoroughly edited? Lots can be said about what ‘thoroughly’ means, but I think you get the idea.

If your Page One has any of these tripwire items, you can guess what will happen. Editors and agents get dozens of submissions a day. Even if your book is the next Gone with the Wind, if you haven’t presented it correctly – slush pile.

Having been diligent and done everything right, you’re still not ready to send the thing off. You have just done the easy part. Okay, so what’s the hard part? Making the submission, of course. What’s so hard about that? Churn out a letter and post the damned thing. Time for another checklist.

  • Do you have a polished submission letter that will sweep that agent or editor off his feet?
  • Does the submission letter contain the agent or editor’s correct name? Not much good if all it says ‘To whom it may concern’, or ‘Dear Sir’. It tells the person you haven’t bothered to research the agency or publisher.
  • Have you written a short and long blurb for your book? You’ll need this with your submission letter or e-mail.
  • Is your book synopsis done? This is where many writers suffer agonies of withdrawal symptoms. They can write a Gone with the Wind, but they cannot write a two-page synopsis even if their life depended on it.

The above items will be the first thing an agent or editor sees. If you cannot get past the submission letter – the slush pile. Let’s leave the submission letter and talk about the book blurb. You must write a paragraph, boiling your book down to about 100 words or so, that tells somebody what the book is about, injecting drama, suspense, tears, a shootout – whatever is the theme. Think about making a sauce. Your pot has all the necessary ingredients and is half full of water. To make the sauce, you boil the mess until only a gooey residue is left on the bottom. That’s your book blurb…

To see the rest of this article and learn more about Stefan Vucak, please visit the ECS blog.

Thank you for taking the time to read this post. If you like it let me know and share it with others. See you next time, Toi Thomas. #thetoiboxofwords

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My Friend, Uzo by Darlene Jones

drums
provided by D. Jones

Let me introduce you to Uzo

I don’t remember how we met. Uzo reminds me that he was surfing WordPress looking for authors, found my blog, and read some of the posts about Mali. He made a comment, I responded and a new friendship was born.

Uzo is a young Nigerian with a blog. He lives in Asaba, Delta State (South-South Nigeria), one of the oil producing states in his country. I’m an older Canadian with a blog. I live a world away (in so many respects) on Vancouver Island, Canada.

Uzo writes novels. I write novels. Uzo writes in English, which is not his first language. As he says, “English is quite a vast language. Every day is a learning process for me.”

We begin by talking about books. We both like Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. I’d read Half a Yellow Sun. He told me about Purple Hibiscus. Here’s what he had to say about that book. “Purple Hibiscus is a wonderful story. Adichie did a marvelous job there from the first person pov. Kambili’s account is so real and reflects the life of a rich, caged Igbo child-woman during one of the military regimes in Nigeria.”  We’re both anxious to read Americanah.

Uzo says, “I’m a no-good writer. I’m just a wannabe like you guys call it.” On the contrary, Uzo is a powerful writer. Here’s a sample.

Although the Liberian war is now over, I cannot wish away the memories. There are nights in my sleep when I still find myself dressed in army uniform, AK-47 ready. On these nights I hear the voices of parents calling their children; others joking, shouting: “Where’s your bunker?” The air cracks and I hear the sounds of diving jets and stuttering LMGs. Fire, blood, bullets and bodies everywhere. Things soon simmer to normal as danger passes. People fill the streets, young boys and girls going on various errands. Then he appears in a blood-stained enemy uniform. His oily dark face is teased with abandon. He’s about to aim his rifle at me. In my dreams, he dies in different ways. I’m his killer. Something tells me that he is my son. But I’m too afraid to believe it.

I’m not a professional editor, but I’ve offered to help Uzo with his English as he’d be drained if he had to pay an editor, so files are sent back and forth. I’m careful not to tamper with the uniqueness of his voice.

Only the eyes that moved swiftly would see the legs that desperately sprinted across the farms and pathways. Thereafter thoughts would arise if the runner was after something, or rather, was the prey.

Beautiful, right? And yes, my life, as a person and as a writer, is richer for having met him. That’s the beauty of the Internet…

To see the rest of this article and learn more about Uzo and  Darlene Jones, visit the ECS blog.

Thank you for taking the time to read this post. If you like it let me know and share it with others. See you next time, Toi Thomas. #thetoiboxofwords