Penny Childs's Blog

September 17, 2013

A Circle’s End

If life teaches us valuable lessons along the way, so does death. Those of us left behind can learn not only from the person who has passed on, but from the people who surrounded them in life and death.


 Last week my husband’s mother, Joyce Childs passed away. It wasn’t a completely unexpected event, but certainly, you can never really be prepared for the loss. It still hits you hard. There are still those little moments it takes your breath away when you remember you’ll never see them again. But you understand that sometimes, in some circumstances, it is for the best. The suffering is at an end. So you celebrate the life they lived instead of the death. But that still doesn’t fill that void you feel. We’ll miss Joyce forever. We’ll cling to the memories we have of her.


 Those of us who took the time to get to know her and took the time to visit with her are the lucky ones. Those of us who gave up pieces of our own lives to help her and her husband when they so desperately needed help are the lucky ones. We knew them in both their good times and their bad times. We accepted the good and the bad.


 I’m angry right now. And I’m going to vent a little bit, which I wasn’t going to do. But something I found out about after her funeral has me absolutely fuming. And it taught me just how utterly petty some people really can be.


 Some of you, and you know who you are, deserted Joyce and Gerald in the bad times. Hell, what am I talking about? You couldn’t even be there for them in the good times. Because you lived too far away. Because you didn’t have time. Because you didn’t feel good. Because you have babies. You couldn’t even be bothered to pick up a phone. Seriously, I was told that. Couldn’t even spare ten minutes, ten minutes, to pick up a phone and say, “I love you”. Blah, blah, blah… Excuses. You always had (and still will, I’m sure) an arsenal of them on hand. But you know what? You lost out. YOU LOST OUT. You don’t have the memories the rest of us have. You never will. It’s too late. You’ll never know how much she loved books. What a joy it was to download them from the library for her and share them with her. It was never a burden. I enjoyed being able to do something for her that made her smile. You’ll never know how much fun it was to go pick her and Gerald up and bring them to your house for dinner for no reason other than to experience their company. We didn’t need holidays as a reason to visit with them like you did. You’ll never know what it was like to bring her fresh vegetables and spend the day canning sauces with her. You never got called at 10pm at night to go fix the TV remote because one of them messed it up. Not fun, certainly, when you have to be up for work at 4am, but it said a lot about our relationship with them. And my husband got up and went there in the middle of the night every time they called. So they called us because they knew they could count on us. For anything.


 I never liked or respected you for the way you treated them. But I was gonna let it go. I really was.


 Until you did something there, right at the end, right before they closed her casket that makes my stomach turn. It is a HUGE slap in the face to the people who actually cared about her and were there for her like you NEVER WERE. You put a picture of your family on your daughter’s wedding day in mother’s hands. A picture that did not include my husband or his children or many other family members who were not there that day. Sure, you have differences with your brother. But that… what you did… wow. You were asked to help plan the funeral. You said you had to go to work (seriously, none of us bought that excuse, by the way. Not when your other brother works with you and could be there). So, you left the unpleasant stuff to your siblings, as usual. You were asked to bring a few photos for the visitation and for the board at the funeral home. The board everyone else in the family used. But you said you “forgot the pictures at home.” You didn’t forget them. You already had a game plan, didn’t you? You wanted to be the only one to put something in her casket with her. And you were. Because nobody else in the family would have stooped that low. Anyone else in the family would have discussed it with the other family members.


 You did what you did to hurt your brother. To one-up him. Congratulations. You’re one classy lady. Just keep this in mind. You didn’t win. You lost. You lost time with mother you can never reclaim. You lost out on memories. That picture in her hand can’t erase what you didn’t do.


 You are childish. You are petty. You are selfish. You are a lot of words I choose not to type right now. What you did proves how TINY you really are. It speaks volumes about your character, or lack thereof. The last thing you did, the last gesture you made to your mother was made out of spite, anger and hatred. Not love. She wouldn’t have wanted that. I know she wouldn’t have. Because I knew her. And if you’d taken the time to get to know her, you’d know that too.


 Now you have to live with that last gesture you made to her. Congratulations.



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Published on September 17, 2013 08:08

August 26, 2013

So… Bad Language – Bad Book?

Okay, so when it comes to writing, I tend to write what I feel. I let the story pull from my head what it will. That includes the language of the book. You see, when I am writing a character, I know everything about them. How they dress, how they look, how they feel, what makes them tick… and yes, even how they express themselves. With that being said, sometimes my characters use colorful language. It’s who they are. I do not write Christian Literature. I do not write any religious material for that matter. I never claimed to nor will I ever claim to. My characters are not priests (well one was… and in keeping with character he never, ever swore).We don’t expect someone who say, works in a factory with all males (Me! Me! Me!) to use sweet language, now do we? Or a member of a street gang – you expect all hearts and roses coming out of his mouth? God, I sure hope you answered NO to that question. I really, really do. Because if you didn’t, you might as well quit reading this post right now. I mean it. Close it out without reading another word. Because before this post is over I am absolutely sure I will offend you (assuming, of course, I haven’t managed to do that already).

Here’s the thing. I understand some people are sensitive when it comes to what they consider foul language. To me, foul language is just a state of mind. They are just words which reside in a big bucket. I pull ‘em out and use them as the situation merits. I mean, let’s face it, saying “awe fudge” just doesn’t have the same impact as saying “awe fuck”. And the gang member I spoke of earlier would have his ass handed to him if he busted out with an “oh poop”. But… I know not everyone is on-board with that particular sentiment. So… in real life, when I am talking to the easily offended, I realize this and tone it down for them out of respect. I mean, I don’t go up to a person at work that I don’t know and drop the F-Bomb on them right away. I check ‘em out. See how they are. See if they are a delicate flower or a hardened factory rat. And then I speak to them in a manner which works for both of us. I adapt to the company I am in and the situation I am in. I don’t ever force people to listen to a string of obscenities when I know it offends them.

However, when it comes to writing, I feel very differently. Of course I don’t want to offend anyone (or maybe I do, the jury is still out on that one… LOL). But listen folks, if you get offended by what an author has written, PUT THE BOOK DOWN. STOP READING. Walk away. You don’t have to keep reading. No one is holding a fricking gun to your head. And for God’s sake, don’t belittle the author in a public forum because the author doesn’t conform to your own set of personal beliefs. Put the fucking book down and walk the hell away. I’ll go on with my life and you go on with yours. And by all means, if my language offends you, don’t read my stuff ever again. Please. Sheesh.

Whew. There. I feel better now 



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Published on August 26, 2013 14:29

January 10, 2013

All I Wanted Was An Effing Candy Bar

I’d been craving a Twix Bar for a while. So every day at work I would check the vending machine in the break area, only to come up empty-handed. Until one day last week! Finally! They were in our “healthy” vending machine (shhh, don’t tell them I found a candy bar, they’d probably take it out of the machine). So I inserted my dollar bill and got my candy bar. And frowned when I pulled it out of the machine. Was it my imagination or was I getting a lot less candy bar than I used to? Nope, not my imagination, it was definitely smaller. And it cost twenty more cents, too. Well, I was committed now, so I took the thing up to my office and ate it on my break. And started thinking…


Just the week before, my paycheck got smaller. Seems I am now paying $15.00 a week more for the Social Security tax, something I am sure by the time I am eligible to receive, I won’t get anyway. And then I thought about the memo my work had sent out the week before that. They would be taking more money out of my check for health benefits. Our premium is going up. Again. Second year in a row. They told us all how sorry they were about that, but that they were still doing better than the average company when it came to what the employee contributes. And I’m thinking, seriously? Just last year they quit covering allergy medications even if the doctor prescribed them – because – as they said, you can buy them over the counter now. So, while they are saving what I am sure amounts to BILLIONS of dollars, they are charging me more and giving me less coverage. Add to that the extra they charge if you are what they categorize as noncompliant. Meaning, you do not fit their cookie cutter model of the perfect person. If you are overweight or have any health issues (such as high blood pressure or high cholesterol) and do not meet their strict rules, you are noncompliant. Well, my husband is being treated for high cholesterol. By his DOCTOR. He has discussed his condition with his DOCTOR. It cannot be controlled by diet. He has to take medication for it. Not good enough for my employer. They want him to take time off his job to come to their Fitness Factory and discuss his high cholesterol with them. Take time off work for them to check his blood pressure too (which his fucking doctor does!) and go to a class about eating healthy. Diet options for people with high cholesterol (which won’t work for him, duh).He has a doctor. And his doctor went to medical school! These chicks at my work did not go to medical school. I’m sure they went to school, but it wasn’t medical school, I can guarantee that. But now they’re more qualified than our doctor? They feel the need to second guess what he’s told my husband? Woof. Don’t get me started on what a colossal waste of time and money this little program is for us. But it works out for my company. They make more money because my husband can’t just leave his job in the middle of the day to come talk to them about something his doctor has already discussed/diagnosed/treated. Hence we pay more. A lot more.


A few months ago my right shoulder was really bothering me. So I went to the doctor. I told her if at all possible I wanted to stay away from taking any drugs for the pain. I’m a writer and don’t like to take things that inhibit my thoughts. I was wondering what alternatives were available. She asked me if I would be willing to try physical therapy and I said, sure, why not? Beats being on pain meds. I just got a bill in the mail from the hospital. I owe them $671.00 for the physical therapy. When I got the bill I thought, “Oh, my insurance will cover this. They always have covered when my doctor referred me to a specialist for treatment.” WRONG! I guess last year (when my premium went up) they also decided they were going to start making us responsible for a rather large deductible (which I do not remember them every telling us about… pretty sure they just let us find out on our own the hard way). If we are referred to a specialist and they perform treatment we are on the hook for the first $800.00 and up to $2,000 out of pocket expenses. Great. Just great. I can’t freaking afford that shit!! And starting Monday, they’ll be taking more money out of my check!!! For less coverage!!! So… no more physical therapy for this chick. Just give me the narcotics, at least they’re covered. I just better make damn sure I don’t get hooked on them. My insurance probably won’t cover the rehab expenses which will be required to get me sober.


Hmmm…. The only bright and shining light there is; they do random drug tests and if I’m on prescription meds and they test me I’ll get 3 days off paid while they verify my prescription with my doctor. Always lookin’ for the rainbow. Yup, that’s me. Just sayin’.


To make matters even happier for me, I have capped out on my pay. I will never, ever, get another raise again. As someone in our HR department told me, my wage is stagnant. Stagnant. Inspiring word. Well, let us look at it this way: my attitude has been inspired by that little gem now. I mean, seriously, do they really expect me to go above and beyond, to exceed their expectations, knowing they will never again reward me for my efforts? Get real, people. You have removed any incentive I may have had. Stagnant… yes indeed… I will do my job. Period. No more. No less.


Oh, and one other little thing. I was watching the news last night and it seems the governor of our fine state thinks he needs to raise our taxes so we can fix the roads. I thought that’s why we were paying such high gas taxes! Guess they must have used that money for something else. Arrrggg!!! My check will continue to get smaller and smaller because more and more will get taken out of it and I will never make more money (where I am currently employed, at any rate).


I’d do a happy dance but I’m afraid I’d slip, hurt myself, and wind up paying a healthy deductible for the ensuing hospital visit and therapy.



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Published on January 10, 2013 14:24

December 29, 2012

Theives Among Us

I don’t blog a whole lot, mainly because I don’t usually feel like I have much to say. In my last blog I talked about how depressing it can be to put your blood, sweat, and tears into something only to see it sit idle. Only to see poor sales. Well, true to human nature, someone (or a group of someones) out there has shown me things can, indeed, be even worse. What can be worse than not selling my books, you might ask? Well, selling them only to have them read and returned. In other words, having them stolen from me.


Through the month of December every one of my eleven books has been purchased on multiple occasions. Good for me. I love it. What I don’t love is the pattern I saw start about a week and a half ago. A book would be bought, then, a couple of days later returned for refund. How do I know it was someone reading and returning them? Every single refund was in the order of the two series I wrote. Then they went through the stand-alone novels.


I absolutely do not have a problem with someone changing their mind and returning a book of mine. I don’t have a problem with them starting one and deciding they don’t like it, for whatever reason. To each his or her own. I know my writing style isn’t appealing to every reader out there. I also realize people hit the wrong button on occasion. Happens to me all the time. But to buy something, use it (or read it, in this case) and return it… that is thievery, pure and simple. That’s like buying a suit or dress, wearing it to a party, and then taking it back to the store.


Writing is what I want to do for a living. Which means I need to make money doing it. If these people are allowed to steal from me, to read my work for free, then I will not be able to pursue my dream. I will be stuck working a factory job for the rest of my life and writing books for them for free.


Not acceptable.



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Published on December 29, 2012 16:52

November 19, 2012

Promoting Books – OMG!!!

I find myself in a promotion lull. No matter what I try I don’t seem to get anywhere. Sales stink. I’ve tried Twitter, Facebook, Goodreads, the classifieds, and I even have a nice vinyl sign in the back window of my truck. I have bumper stickers. I have a QR code I’m still trying to figure out what the hell to do with. My sales stink. Period. Which leaves me wondering what to try next. I’m not in the mood to give up. Do I rent a billboard? Stand on a corner dressed as an oversized book holding a sign directing drivers to my website?


I don’t really know what to do at this point. Twitter feels like a waste of my time. The Facebook and Goodreads ads feel like a waste of my time and my money. And I’m not made of money, so I can’t spend big bucks on advertisements.


Aside from all of that I have another issue: I’m extremely shy around people I don’t know. I’m not one of those bold people who can stand up in a crowd and say, “Look what I did! Buy my books! They rock!”. So trying to get on the radio or something probably wouldn’t work, I’d melt into a mortified lump of jello. I like to lay low. Stay behind the scenes. It’s why I write and am not a public personality. I don’t want people looking at me, I want them reading my books.


So what am I to do? Well, for right now I think I’m just going to concentrate on my writing. I’m gonna quit sweating it so much. Quit looking at my sales numbers every day. Quit spending hours on Twitter trying to come up with witty ads. I will, however, continue to promote other authors works on Twitter since it is as simple as the retweet button. Plus the fact there are some really splendid indie authors out there and I want people to know about them.


So….


Moonshadows is in the final stages of editing. It still needs a front cover, something which has been eluding me for quite some time now. I just need to grab my camera and go for a drive – like I used to do.


Just A Kiss Away has been through outside editing and needs the suggested corrections/changes made to it then needs to go through a few more rounds of editing. It also needs a front cover.


I’m writing the sequel to Just A Kiss Away right now too and I have about three other stories floating around in my head.


So, here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to do what I love doing. I’m going to write. I’m going to get to making those covers. I’m an artist for Pete’s sake. I took college courses in photography and art because it was what I wanted to do. It’s time I quit worrying about what everyone else thinks and just do what I love to do :)


 



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Published on November 19, 2012 07:28

November 10, 2012

The Writing Blues

Right now I’m kind of finding myself a little blue. This writing thing is getting to me; or should I say this selling thing is getting to me. Writing the books is the easy part. But selling them… man… if I could just get one of these books to hit…


I always try to not let my sales interfere with my writing, but I have to say sometimes it does, no matter how hard I try to keep them from doing so. Sometimes that little demon wakes up and says, “Why are you bothering? No one is buying your books anyway. You’ll be stuck in that factory for the rest of your pathetic existence.” To that little bastard I say bullshit. I’m not working in that factory for the rest of my life. I’m going to write books and people are going to read them. As a friend of mine told me, “Penny, you’re just one best seller away from telling that place to f*&k off.” He’s a pretty funny guy. Secretly, I whisper that little ditty to myself all the time. It makes me smile.


My sales were pretty good last month (not good enough to quit the day job, but good). That got my spirits up about what I’m doing. And then… the month changed… November came… and it’s like a light switch got thrown. For those of you who don’t know, us writers can check our sales numbers for each book we’ve written as many times a day as we like. This feature can either be exciting or just down right depressing. The month: depressing. I have had the dreaded brown bar of no sales across my sales page all month so far. Haven’t sold a thing, not one lousy book, in 9 days. Sigh. I’m just one best seller away… just one best seller away… There, I’m smiling again :)


Oh, I just checked my sales again, just for the hell of it. The brown bar is gone. I sold a book! I hate that effing brown bar. I really do. But now, back to writing that best seller. LOL :)


 



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Published on November 10, 2012 05:31

October 14, 2012

A Gloomy Day Can Be A Beautiful Day

Today is one of those days I used to wake up to and think, yuck! It’s cloudy, rainy and chilly out. Not the kind of day which inspires me to get anything productive done. Or so used to be the case. But since I’ve started writing again, I’ve found I actually like these rainy days. Things are quiet. I mean, I can generally write no matter what is going on around me. Once I allow myself to get sucked back into the story… well, my husband can attest to the fact I become oblivious to everything around me. Everything. Drives him nuts sometimes, I know. But this morning, with the soft patter of rain on the roof and the absence of human noises outside, wow, a whole new level of concentration is realized.


And that chill I know is in the air out there… there is something to be said for a nice, hot cup of coffee sitting on the table next to me as I peck away on the keyboard of my computer. It’s absolutely relaxing. Then add to that the pellet stove burning beside me, warming the house the way only a fire can do… I could do this every day :)



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Published on October 14, 2012 06:21

May 23, 2012

The Story Seed

This morning I am taking a little bit of time to sit back and relax. The last week has been busy, to say the least. My mother in-law had a medical issue last Tuesday and has since been in the hospital. My husband has been working 10 hour days, going to his father’s and picking him up, taking him to visit mother, taking him home, making him dinner and then coming home around 8pm. He’s been doing this every day and it looks like it will be weeks before mother might be going home. I won’t get into bashing his 3 siblings too much except to say they have been as much help as they always are: which is none at all. But I suppose that is somehow our fault…. Anyway… enough about that. Back to my relaxing morning…….


I’m sitting in my rocking chair, hot cup of coffee by my side, laptop on the stand in front of me, watching the birds come to the feeders and bird bath on the back deck. Ahh…. And on a weekday! I’m also watching my old-ass barn cat BC lying in the sun on the deck while the birds laugh at him because he’s too darn old to be a real threat to them anymore:-)


I’ve had a little seed of a story steadily growing in my head over the last week or so and sitting here watching birds, drinking coffee, perusing twitter and listening to my favorite music is like fertilizer for that seed. It helps my mind wander and helps the seed grow into something I can put to paper….err…C-drive…. Some authors will say their favorite part of writing a book is the part where that first draft is DONE. Some will say it is when the final edit is done and they put THE END to it. Some will say when they publish and release. I love all those parts too and have my own little celebrations for each of them. But for me,  my absolute favorite part is where I am now. Bits and pieces of the story have been whirling around in my head for a while now, buzzing and buzzing. Scenes have been playing out at random (sometimes at awkward and inopportune moments). But now… now I am ready to plant the little story seed and put all those scenes together and see where it takes all of my characters! Matter of fact, I think I’ll get to it!


 


Live! Love! Read!


 



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Published on May 23, 2012 07:01

May 13, 2012

Is This Real….. Or Is It Mother’s Day???

I feel the need to post something that is near and dear to my heart. It may be a story from my own life… it might not be. Let’s just begin by saying I don’t really want to piss anyone off… oh, what the hell, I don’t care, she’s burned that bridge.


We go to my husband’s parent’s condo for Mother’s Day, Father’s Day and rotate Thanksgiving and Christmas between his parents and mine. We do this every year. So… that is really the only time we see my brother’s sibling. I say sibling… he actaully has three of them but only one shows up…. ever… but I digress. Sadly, this is the only time my husband’s parents see said sibling as well, unless of course they are in the hospital, then it is an hour visit and see ya later.


My husband’s parents are not well. They do not get around much on their own and rely on other people to help them out. By other people, I mean my husband, myself and my husband’s aunt and uncle. My husband is over there at a minimum twice a week to do their perscriptions, bills, make their bed, take the trash out… you get the point. The aunt and uncle take them to about 99% of their doctor appointments and grocery shopping.


So, that brings me to today… Mother’s Day. My husband siezed a little had opportunity and told his sister that we needed help with his parents. We both hold down 50 hour a week plus jobs, six days a week, plus are trying to have a life of our own. HE ASKED FOR HELP. He asked her for ONE DAY A MONTH to come and clean their condo. He asked her to call them once in a while (she only calls before the holidays to see what time to show up). When he asked her for help and explained why we need it she got pissed off! I could not believe it! She said that we should be calling her to let her know what is going on with their parents. She said her parents should be calling her to let her know if they need help! I am in awe.


I’m ranting here for one reason. If you have parents who are still around and who raised you well, treat them with the same respect and kindness they treated you. Pick up a damn phone once in a while and make a call to them. Ask them how they are doing. Is a half an hour on the phone once a week too much of your precious time? Is going to visit them even if they live (OMG! AN HOUR AWAY!) too much for you?


Take care of them! They took care of you!



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Published on May 13, 2012 17:47

February 25, 2012

Who I Am

I’ve been thinking a lot about it. About who I am. I’ve been thinking about it a lot because it seems I may not be what some people expect me to be, or maybe even want me to be lately.


Don’t let the 40+ hour a week factory job fool you. That is not who I am. Not completely. But, when you spend that much time a week doing something, I think people begin to form a picture in their mind. They do it from the moment they meet you by asking what you do for a living. They keep doing it by asking how the job is going every time they see you. Now don’t get me wrong; I’m glad I have a decent paying job, I really I am. Those bills, they gotta get paid.


But I have discovered something over the past few years. I want more. I want to be more than the chick who runs the paint line.


Enter my five horses, four dogs and flock of chickens. They are a fun bonus which rounds me out. They add character (and everyone can use a little more of that, am I right?). It would be boring around here without them. They are not what I do, though. They are not who I am, either. They are my kids and give me some real fun stories to tell people though! And some real cute pics to post on Facebook. I love every single one of them with all my heart.


Okay, now enter my family. They do define who I am, to a certain extent. My mother, father, step-mother, step-father, in-laws, brother…. you get the picture. Some of these people I am related to by blood (and boy can you tell).  Some of them raised me. They helped mold me into the person I am today… you can stop cringing over there now, mom. I didn’t turn out to be an axe murderer, so that points in your favor:) Just kidding. I know you’re proud of me for what I am doing and I love you so much for it!


And, of course, my husband. He is, and has been since the day I met him, a big part of who I am. I have made some pretty heavy decisions both with him and because of him. I love him and he is part of me. He is part of who I am. He is my friend, my lover, and my confidant. But he is not all of who I am, and he shouldn’t be. There is still more to me.


I’ve discovered another part of me over the last few years. Or should I say, I have rediscovered that part of me.


I am a writer. And I absolutely LOVE it. Writing at times consumes me. The story is all I can think about and I can’t wait to get back to it. The characters move around in my head, striving for my attention because they have places to go, things to do, damnit! And I want to get them there! It makes me feel alive to have such passion for something like that again (surprise, surprise, the factory job doesn’t do it for me).


I am determined to keep feeling that passion. I know for some people in my life, my latest discovery has thrown them for a loop. They feel I’ve become obsessed with the writing. I have to ask this; if you found something you were so passionate about, something you loved to do as much as I love writing, wouldn’t you do it? Wouldn’t you sacrifice time now in order to make something bigger of it later? Wouldn’t you at least take a shot at it? Well, I am. I’m not gonna just lay down and give up. I want this. I want to write books for a living. I do not want to work in the factory for the rest of my life to make ends meet. I want to be one of those fortunate few who makes a living by doing what they LOVE. And guess what? I’m gonna go for it!


As always,


Live! Love! Read! (and in my case: Write!)



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Published on February 25, 2012 06:07