You Are a Writer

February 15, 2010

You are a writer.

It makes no difference whether you plan to pick up your pen for the first time tomorrow, or whether you have been clutching it tightly for many years already; a woman is no less a mother when her milk first begins to flow.

Writing is the music you make for a dance of your design; the legacy you will one day leave of the life you once lived. Writers write for different reasons. Some of us write because there are stories inside us we long to tell, people we wish to impress or maybe products we’d like to sell.

You may have a single reason or a hundred. I could never narrow mine down.

Maybe you are a writer because you know it is a sterling affair, each of those moments when you find the sound of swirling syllables speaking from a symphony born in your private abyss; a tangle of thought unraveled upon the page revealing the inner you, then placing it on display for the reader as you stand back both bashful and proud.

Perhaps you are a writer because you mourn the brevity of our existence and are selfish enough to wish you might live through the best of your moments more than once.

You may not know why you are a writer, but that’s okay. The important thing is to know you are.

Though no one needs a blessing to consider themselves a writer, many people have kept themselves prisoner of anemic thoughts and limiting preconceptions. If you are searching for permission, here you go – POOF! – you’re now a writer.

You may now inhabit more than a single existence. One life fixed firmly in the reality that swims before you, the other quietly observing all the versions which wait in your mind’s eye, eager to reveal their own romantic record of yesterday.

Get comfortable. Allow the knowledge that you are a writer to settle in your senses. Ponder where it might lead. What worlds will you create and who will your mind manufacture to fill them?

Because you are a writer, imagination is your only horizon.

For the dozen years preceding my life with a pen, I made my living buying and selling flowers. Perhaps it was there where I first learned to manipulate beauty; there where I discovered I could take something which was already beautiful, and shape it into something breathtaking. I found my favorite flowers, combined them with colors that echoed, and discovered that nature herself was only offering suggestion.

What works with flowers, works with words as well. You can write like that; words in a sentence like flowers in a bouquet. Language is color and there are few limits to its use. The more you use it, the more natural it will be.

Primary colors coalesce for the rainbow, yet the remaining hues paint the world which lies beneath. Paint your life with the tip of a pen or stroke of a key, rinse your memory in vivid color, and carve a future from the worlds you create.

You are a writer. Messy the desktop with your thoughts and pull the best from inside you.

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I Mostly Thought of You

February 12, 2010

It was twelve years ago.

Our first Valentines was spent beneath the raging torrent of El Niño. She was the boogey weather of the nightly news for months. But she was also real.

The flower shop flooded. Customers couldn’t get in and we couldn’t get our orders out.

Three days later I was standing beside my father, chopping the heads from thousands and thousands (and thousands) of dollars worth of roses. We watched the blooms roll into the trashcans as the bundled stems landed on the counter with a thud. The scent in the air was sweet, but the room was heavy.

Twelve 32-Gallon trashcans were filled, each one packed. Every trip to the dumpster was heartbreaking. It is impossible to recover from the loss of a perishable product.

It was devastating.

Fortunately, I mostly thought of you.

The way we met, and how one day had just seemed to settle right into the next like it never had before.

How your eyes looked bigger than your face.

Your smile.

My worst professional Valentine’s Day was still the best I’d ever had. The day’s freeze fell off me just moments after I came home.

Everything was okay.

You gave me everything then, as you have now for more than a decade.

Children that bloat my emotion and pull me deeper into my days, your unwavering faith that I can and will do anything I throw my mind to, and an unfaltering system of support to give me the time and tools to make it happen.

I can’t believe it’s been more than twelve years.

The math is clear. Our oldest child is now eight, plus the five we were together before she was born. Yet it doesn’t seem possible.

After all these years, each day still settles right into the next.

I love you. Happy Valentine’s Day.

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Lucky Chuck the Chicken Duck

February 10, 2010

Chuck the bird was not born sad, even though he knew no mom or dad.

He was always happy, night and day. Chuck loved to waddle, swim, and play.

Chuck was nice to everyone. He was kind and warm, like morning sun.

The other fowl were cold and cruel, but Chuck never lost his happy cool.

They puffed their wings and flapped about with whispered clucks and quacking shouts.

Often loud and rarely nice, the birds jeered him once then jibed him twice.

“You silly bird, you’ve such bad luck. You look just like a chicken duck!”

It was true that Chuck looked strange. But he did not ever wish to change.

His feet were webbed just like a duck and he did say quack instead of cluck.

He swung a sack beneath his bill which should have shook his iron will.

It was ruby red (like a rooster’s sack) and freckled all over in patches of black.

His feathers were white like a grown up chick, but waterproof and kind of thick.

The birds would laugh, then laugh some more, careless in an unkind war.

They kept on going, never done.  They never stopped, but never won.

“Words are just words,” Chuck would say, as he made the best of every day.

“They can not hurt me with harmless air. If they’re over here, I’ll play over there.”

They never shook him. Chuck ignored their cries. And all their empty, jealous lies.

The ducks in the pond would not let him play. The chicks in the coup clucked, “go away!”

Chuck raised his bill and quacked, “That’s fine. You have what’s yours, I’ll have mine.

These opposite ends both feel so mean, I will play in the farmland in between.”

The cows were happy, they said “hooray” and “moo” (so were the rest of the animals too).

The pigs said “oink!” and raised their snouts; the sheep baa-baaad with happy shouts.

The whole farm thrilled at its new luck, now  that they could play with Chuck.

He was always happy, so much fun. Pleased to play in rain or sun.

He liked Duck Duck Goose and other games with made up rhymes and silly names.

The other birds grew jealous fast. They said, “Hey Chuck, you know, it’s in the past.

We did not mean those things we said. We love your slightly different head.

Come swim with us. Play Hide-N-Seek. You can be our star this week!”

But Chuck was pleased with his new crew. They were nice to him, and funny too.

They never judged or laughed at Chuck. They never called him “Chicken Duck.”

“Thanks, but no,” Chuck said out loud, in a voice that made the barnyard proud.

“You never let me play your games. You laugh at me and called me names.

But I’m the one with all the luck. I really am a special duck.

I have friends who think I’m great. We love to dance and celebrate.

They do not care about my face, or how it seems so out of place.

My friends love me for who I am. Exactly how I feel for them.”

Seasons came and seasons went. Chuck’s good cheer was never spent.

He bounced in the barnyard every day as the birds all watched from far away.

On their own sides, in their own muck, no matter how they quacked and clucked,

Or waddled round and ran amuck, they never got to play with Chuck.

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A Content Marketing Carnival

February 9, 2010

If content marketing doesn’t bore you, then you’ll think this is awesome.

I’ll keep it short either way.

Though I have a lot going on, I try to keep business off the site as much as possible. Occasionally I’ll mention something either because I think it’s of genuine interest, or (rarely) because I’m trying trying to set some SEO in place, But for the most part what you get here is my version of fatherly art, four days a week.

However, I can see by the emails that there is curiosity.

I started a series on Ghostwriter Dad a few weeks ago. I’m not ready to blog about being a ghostwriter and I want to be genuine in anything I write. But the site needs content and I can’t afford to stop publishing over there. The SEO on the site is strong, enough so that it’s currently on page 1 for the general term “ghostwriter.”

I thought of the perfect solution. I’m now using the strong SEO on the site to benefit both myself and any reader who wants to learn about content marketing.

Simply put, content marketing is the means of growing a site through the creation of quality content which fuels word of mouth. It’s what David and I do for every site in the Collective Inkwell family. Each week we’re putting out a ton of great content. Why not use Ghostwriter Dad as a place to pull it all together?

So each Monday I’ve been doing a roundup that explains everything we did the previous week, along with the why. If something was a success, I write about it. If it was a failure, I write about that too. If it didn’t go one way or the other, I write about it anyway just to mop up the Google Juice.

If you’re in any way interested in getting a behind the scenes look at content marketing as it happens, or if you’ve ever wanted to see the buisness side of Writer Dad, come on over and check it out.

Click on the link for this week’s content marketing carnival. Or sign up for free updates delivered once a week.

See you there!
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Yes, we have another site in our syndicate.

But if you have kids, you’re going to LOVE it.

Have you ever been in line at the grocery store and had your son or daughter say something that made you want to melt into a puddle and then get mopped into a bucket?

Or has your child said something so funny or touching, you wished you could cast it in silver and hang it on the wall?

Good or bad, one thing seems to hold true. When our children have a memorable verbal experience, we are usually eager to share it.

Now we have a way for you to share with style!

Blogger Dad has designed what I think is our most adorable site yet.

The premise is simple. The site is called “Things My Child Says.” You can submit a quote from your child, niece, baby brother, you when you were small, the kid down the street who wears a purple shirt and runs real fast, it doesn’t matter, send it in. We’ll post it with a smile to match your own.

Along with the quote, you can send a brief introduction to give the story context, then David will post it on the site for others to see and comment on. You can send a photo to go along with the quote if you’d like, but it’s not necessary.

You can click on the submissions page for more details, but make sure to visit ThingsMyChildSays. You’ll love it. If you want free updates delivered to your inbox, click here.

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I Stink!

February 4, 2010

Of course I do not want a bath, even though I have a funk

That reeks so bad, my mom is sad. She just called me a skunk

I want to play with Bobby, but he bounced away from me

I tried to play with Trina, but she scrambled up a tree

I thought that maybe Joseph, wouldn’t notice I smelled bad

Because he inherited halitosis from his hairy dad

But when I went to talk to him, he up and ran away

So I guess I’ll need to take a bath if I really want to play

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NOTE: This is a guest post from Lori Hoeck from ThinkLikeABlackbelt.

In the white-water rapids of parenting – when work, visiting relatives, or perhaps that needed car repair threaten to swamp your raft – it’s hard to rearrange competing priorities.

Sometimes it’s all you can do to lift your paddle, or drag your fingers over the side.

But sometimes, there’s a tug at your attention.

“Move this one up in the queue,” it says.

  • Perhaps it’s a new way of eating after a friend’s child is diagnosed with diabetes.
  • Perhaps it’s a CPR class when your mom moves in with the family.
  • Perhaps it’s insistence that you will all take a vacation as soon as a good deal pops up.

Today, Betsy Wuebker and I would like you to add one more thing, an understanding that will help you and your children dodge heartache, betrayal, and stress. It’s something you may have never heard of, or maybe rarely think about outside of abstract terms.

Until it’s standing dead in front of you like a wall of concrete and you find yourself going far too fast to stop.

What are we talking about?

Recognizing a narcissist.

Most times, the word “narcissist” is applied to simple ego-maniacs or attention-seekers.

But narcissists are more, much more than that.

They can make you feel guilt and demand you take the blame for all their ills. They will use every trick in the book to keep you squirming under their thumb. They finesse and skillfully manipulate situations as easily as you sip at a cup of coffee. They build themselves up at the expense of others. Their machinations can lead to feelings of dread, depression and other disorders in those with whom they’re involved.

Their need to do this, like any addictive behavior, will escalate after they’ve used up their existing narcissistic supply.  Even more frightening – the idea that one could be zeroing in on your child.

Think Venus Fly trap.
Think sweet poison.
Think primrose path.
Think predator.

As parents, we spend an inordinate amount of time concerning ourselves with boosting our child’s self-esteem. Yet few of us consider, much less know, the essential strategies we need to protect against a narcissist. And if we don’t know or consider how to protect ourselves from being victimized, how ever are we going to equip our children with the skills to do the same?

Betsy and I have written a guide that addresses just that.

In The Narcissist: A User’s Guide, we pull the rug from under a toxic dynamic that serves the narcissist while sucking the life from his prey. We help you turn the tables. Instead of being used, you can use our tips and scripts to stand your ground. And, you can teach your child to be positively assertive in the face of a probe by a narcissist, causing the predator to slink away in search of easier prey.

If you have formerly been involved with a narcissist, you already know how difficult it can be to leave the relationship. If you’re currently in a relationship with a narcissist, you may have been concerned about modeling an inappropriate perception of life in front of your child.

There’s no way to completely heal if there’s even a remote chance you might find yourself in a repeat situation.

Our guide can help.

We teach you how to spot narcissistic behavior and cover why the narcissistic response is dangerous. We include stories and anecdotes submitted by a variety of individuals who have been involved with narcissists. You may see some parallels to puzzling or frustrating behaviors within relationships you’ve experienced. Plus, we show you what to do once you’ve assessed the situation to change your responses and ultimately neutralize additional harm.

You’ll want to read The Narcissist: A User’s Guide. You may want to pass it along to someone you know. When you read it, you may recognize individuals in your own life who have displayed characteristics or have played a role in a narcissistic relationship. You’ll begin to think about arming your child with age-appropriate defenses, including additional awareness on your part, to avoid the downward spiral participating in a toxic dynamic can trigger.

Our job as parents is to acquaint our children with the good and teach them to treat it with preference.

We want to encourage our children to embrace life in an open and giving way, but we must protect their sweet natures if we wish for them grow into healthy individuals with loving relationships that thrive on reciprocity of spirit.

A narcissist has no place in all that. Let’s make sure they get out and stay out.

Download the e-book here.

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Again With the Poop?

February 2, 2010

Caca, poo-poo, pee-pee, dookie…

Ah, that felt good.

Longtime readers probably know where I’m going with this.

Thanks for being patient. :)

About a year back, Cindy, Dave and I decided to create our first info product.

And um… yeah, it was about poop.

It was called Potty Training Power and was designed to help parents make potty training an enriching, positive experience, rather than the purgatory of conflict it often is.

This was after we closed our preschool, but before all our students had left. We still had one in diapers, but had just finished training a dozen in a row. We were transitioning from running the preschool to facing a zero income scenario.

So we wrote the book, designed the site, and started to run it quietly in the background of our many other projects.

Sales were modest, but reasonably steady. Yet far more than the generated income, the site has afforded our company with a constant learning experience for learning how to build, market and continuously improve an online information product.

Early last summer we decided to overhaul Potty Training Power, relaunching it on Writer Dad’s first birthday. We transformed the product from a simple e-book into a full potty training system with several separate components, each designed to help parents potty train their children with minimal strife.

Publishing weekly content on potty training, in addition to helping a steady procession of parents get through the process, ballooned our knowledge base and further equipped us to solve customer concerns. Because each system came with full e-mail support, every family who bought the product helped us to make it better.

We continued to incorporate our customer’s experience, spending another six months refining the product.

Last week we launched Potty Training Power’s third version, which now includes phone support.

This project has been interesting for our business in many ways.

At first, Potty Training Power was designed to be a set-it-and forget-it enterprise. We wanted to write an e-book, build a site to host the sales, then move on. Yet Potty Training Power is slowly growing into what I believe will be a sustainable business over time, where we can continue to help families turn their potty training into a positive experience, while also delivering a product that is unique to the market place.

This is infinitely more rewarding.

Earlier this week there was a post on Copyblogger on a similar topic. Johnny Truant wrote about how he spent his first year trying to make money building niche sites targeting dollars from AdSense before finally realizing it was best to make money the old-fashioned way – by connecting to people and offering them something of value.

I’m done with set-it-and-forget-it.

Creating something of value, that I can continue to improve over time, is far more in alignment with my natural instincts and intrinsic values.

If you have a parenting blog where a mention of Potty Training Power might be a natural fit, I’d really appreciate a shout out.

If you’re a regular Writer Dad reader who happens to be potty training, drop a comment (before the end of this week) and we’ll set you up with a complimentary download.

Even if you’re not potty training, Dave’s awesome design deserves a look. The site is squeaky clean and easy to navigate.

I’ll leave you with this cute little commercial we made last summer.

As we say on the site…

Potty training power… AWAY!

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I’m Fat!

February 1, 2010

I’m fat.

Not like Elvis Presley on the year I was born, with lardy ridges rolling off of my body, fat. But I’ve got work to do.

Last year was rough. Though I’ve been known to fart sunshine, I’m as human as anyone. And when my going gets low, by going likes to get eating.

Something about sitting in front of the screen, leaning back in my chair as I’m listening to the loud silence that screams my to-do’s, makes me want to shove peanut M&M’s into my mouth a handful at a time. I know they’re only low grade nuts surrounded by cheap milk chocolate, and not some magic elixir that will make everything alright or extinguish my sadness.

But just try to convince me while I’m chewing.

It also doesn’t help that I love pasta with an unhealthy appetite, and that Cindy cooks it just about better than anyone I’ve ever known.

I know I’m not alone in what I am about to say.

Somewhere around October I just gave up.

Halloween, after all, was right around the corner, and there would be plenty of candy within easy reach, with Turkey Day really just a beat behind. Then Christmas, which we all know lasts a full three weeks, would be followed by New Years.

I could always eat better in the new year!

Of course, I would’ve started the New Year with a clean slate, but my daughter’s birthday is only two weeks into January and my own is just one week after that.

Why bother trying to stay clean when there are so many obstacles clearly in my way?

Sad thing is, this is the same game I play with myself every year.

Today is February 1st.

Just like last February 1st, and all the I’m not sure how many before, I will be getting lean and eliminating sugar from my diet.

I’ve always loved the 28 Days of  February, a chance to trim up and feel my best. Four weeks of discipline, capped at the end by a lean frame and renewed vigor. Sure, I like to punch myself in the stomach without feeling a wobbly vibration, but it’s more than that.

I believe I owe it to my body to give it the best. Though I’m fairly certain I’ll be able to go all cyborg sometime before I die, I probably shouldn’t bank on it.

Yet at the end of each year, I lead myself into the same trap. Last year more so than most.

Though I’m sure next next year I’ll still be celebrating these four weeks without sugar in my diet, this will be the last 28 Days I spend undoing the mistakes I made the previous three months.

By saying this out loud, here to you, I am hopefully flipping a switch inside me.

One that will keep me doing what I’m supposed to do, even when it’s most difficult.

If you’d like to join me, I’d love the company. Hit me downstairs in the comments and I’ll tell you what Cindy and I have on the menu for the next month.

Good stuff, all you can eat. Just no sugar.

The first few days are rough, but soon you start to coast. After a few weeks, food tastes better and, sometimes, the sky even looks a little bluer.

Happy February.

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Dear Sean,

You know how I love “stuff”, and there is nothing better than sharing my “stuff” with those I love. It’s great to find these treasures but even more fun when I see the excitement in my grandchildren’s eyes when “grammy brings them a treat.”

This probably goes back to when I was a little girl and my “nina” used to spoil me rotten. My aunt and uncle had no car but they would take me all over the place on the greyhound bus and the “red car” streetcars. My family had very humble beginnings, but there was never a shortage of treats, even if it was a box of cracker-jacks with the much coveted prize at the bottom.

My dad was the king of chotchkis, as you well know.

Before I was born he had been in the shoe business and the “sample size” back then was a size 4, which coincidentally was my mom’s size. She had shoes to rival Imelda Marcos!  Dad always had a new pair of shoes, a handbag or a piece of costume jewelry for her and it didn’t matter how cheesy some of the trinkets were, her eyes would light up as though he had presented her with a box from Tiffany’s. They were in their late eighties and he was still giving her goodies!

When you and Megan were growing up I always picked up goodies for you whenever I went somewhere that I felt warranted a souvenir because you were not there with me. (even if it was a nintendo-saurus shirt I chose to make for you at the arts and crafts trade show, much to your chagrin). So please understand that I have had a lifetime of this gift giving habit, either on the giving or receiving end. Old habits die very hard!

The Dora the Explorer house was a real feather in my cap! I think you are wildly exaggerating about its condition. It was in great shape and had most of the accessory pieces to go with it, and as I recall, the kids were very excited and played with it all night.  The glamour might have worn off sooner than I thought, but for the instant gratification, it was great!

When I saw it sitting on the curb I could not believe that someone would be so wasteful as to throw it out for the trashmen. They could have donated it to a women and children’s shelter or a church nursery. I guess everyone does not have the same preservation/recycling ethic that I do.  How many children have no toys or very few toys because their families can barely get by with the necessities?  I had to rescue it!

I knew the kids would have a good time.  I will never be deterred from salvaging other people’s perfectly good things that are put out  to further engorge our landfills so that the kids can have the newer model of whatever it was. In the future, however, I will donate these things to charity.

Now, the donkey…..ah yes, the donkey…..I WAS ELATED  when I saw him sitting at the Goodwill, just waiting to be adopted.  I wondered how in the world I could get him to fit into my little Honda Element. I just KNEW  WITHOUT A CRUMBLE OF DOUBT  that the kids would go berserk when I walked through the door with him…..and they did!  I did not notice that the tail was missing until I got to your house. Apparently, the tail had dropped off in the parking lot.

I thought that it was hilarious that two weeks later when I walked into the store they remembered I had bought him and saved the tail for me.  Sorry I keep forgetting it…It’s probably cleaner than the donkey at this point and won’t match.

Ok, so no more presents for my grandkids….nah, no can do!!  BUT….. I promise to keep them at a very minimum and make them either edible, wearable, miniscule in size, or disposable with a short shelf life, such as stickers, paperback coloring books or crafts we can do together.

I propose explaining the problem to the children and giving them the option of one new goodie in, one old goodie out.  They could even make a “treasure chest” of things they are willing to donate forward with the prospect of receiving a new treat.  We can designate one “grammy nite” a month as “treat night” if you wish.

Is this a good compromise?

I understand your quest for minimalization, but please do not deny me my grammy spoiling rights altogether. that’s what grammies are supposed to do! Within a few years they will be too old to be dazzled by fun little trinkets.

Like Santa, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy, Grammies were destined to bring stuff!

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