Potty Training… Help!

January 13, 2009 By 20 Comments

Potty Training Help is here.

ptp-250x250Today is the release of my first info product, Potty Training Power, an e-book package designed to offer potty training help to those parents who need it most.

I am exceedingly proud of this product. Cindy and I have poured a tremendous amount of thought into the book, and David Wright (Blogger Dad) is responsible for the wonderful design. We’ve set up a separate site, so I won’t bore you with a sale’s pitch here.

I’ll be brief and just ask you to spread the word if you’re able; a link maybe, or a forward to someone you know. It doesn’t matter if I just wrote the next Da Vinci Code. If no one sees it, no one’s buying.  Since I would love for this to be my first success leading to another, each one assembling toward the actuality of writing for a living instead of simply dreaming about it… well, that would be awesome.

Potty Training Power is a two part product.  The first component is our brand new e-book, laying out a method for quick and dirty potty training in two-dozen pages.  The second part is the wee-book, “Number One and Two it!” with gorgeous graphic design by Dave.  The package is $27 and includes full email support from both Daisy and myself.  We’ve all put a lot of work into both the site and our product and need it to be as successful as possible.

If you need potty training help, please check out our new book on potty training your toddler, Potty Training Power.  You can see the site here.

Also, if you would like to be an affiliate for Potty Training Power, and have one of Dave’s pretty little buttons gleaming on the sidebar of your site, you can sign up with e-junkie here, or email me here, and I’ll walk you through it.  Of course all affiliates will receive a complimentary copy of the book.

Thanks!

Writer Dad

Contact me to hire a ghostwriter to help you with your next ebook or SEO copy project.

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Finding My Friday

November 17, 2008 By 47 Comments

How can a society that exists on instant mashed potatoes, packaged cake mixes, frozen dinners, and instant cameras teach patience to its young?

~Paul Sweeney

Life never unfolds exactly as expected.  Hoping it will is only swatting at fog.  Days transpire, weeks disappear, and we are often engaging our best when we simply catch up, and catch our breath.  We keep our eyes fixed on what’s coming and then accept it when it does; remain thankful for all we have that works well, and arrange to change what doesn’t.

We cannot stop life from happening.  It goes on every day, with or without us.  It follows us everywhere, surrounding us everywhere we go, no different from the air we breathe.

We never know how that first drift will flutter the next, so it is paramount that we regard our moments as each a possible precursor to the last; forever holding our head in the now, while never forgetting to flick our eyes at the horizon and whatever prize we’ve placed beneath, while understanding that there are few things we can simply compel to happen.

When big things happen suddenly, there is often unreasonable cost attached.

Like a tsunami, or avalanche.

Life, at its best, happens bit by tiny bit.

Does the caterpillar know what he will one day be?

Probably not.

One thing Daisy’s always said, though only now am I hearing it in the way she’s always meant it: “We mustn’t ever skip our steps.”

I love our modern world, but when I can download nearly anything I’m in the mood for, and less than a decade from losing the nearly altogether, how can I remain humble while looking patience in the eye.  More important, how can I teach this to my children?

There’s an order to life, and to most things we say we want and are willing to work for.  Skipping even a single step, often means misunderstanding or misapplying something in the future.  If we consider we’re here only once, this seems precarious and unnecessary.

My biggest one to grow on during my twenties was patience.  Fortunately, life saw fit to outfit me with the ultimate foe of an impatient man: first a girl and then a boy.

I’m more patient than I used to be, but I still have a million miles to meander.

Last Friday, I was in the middle of telling Daisy about my brand new idea – the new one.  This was the one that would change everything, allow us to scale our next summit, and plant a flag deep inside all future possibility.  A good fifteen minutes had passed since the last idea and, since it was getting late, it was perfectly possible that a better idea would not arrive before the dawn.

“Sweetheart,” Daisy said.  She put her hand on my forearm to stop me from pacing, then pulled me down on the couch beside her.  “You need to find your Friday.”

This last week saw me celebrating my new life as a full time writer by piling even more onto my ridiculously heaping plate.  I tackled the week as though the Romans didn’t get it done in a day by choice.  There’s something to be said for working hard and using every minute, but it’s something else when your minutes are misapplied.

We will find our success.  It will happen because we are willing to wake up and give our best every day, but doing my best doesn’t always mean doing my most.

I found my Friday, and fortunately, my Saturday and Sunday sailed into the sunset right behind.

Writer Dad

Sean Platt is a ghostwriter for hire, specializing in ebook design and press releases.

Namas Daisy has a lesson from the geese.  Both Daves and Tara are getting fit in front of the whole internet.  Check out their awesome new blog, BLOG TO FIT.

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Jolly Good Then

November 6, 2008 By 79 Comments

“I like the English. They have the most rigid code of immorality in the world.“
~Malcolm Bradbury

I’m nut sure exactly when I became friends with Dave Fowler.  Truth is, I didn’t realize that he wasn’t Dave Wright (Blogger Dad) for the longest time.  One day, after a particularly long sequence of emails, I realized something was wrong.  “This guy used to be a reporter?”  I thought.  He can’t even spell.  At that moment I realized I’d been talking to a different Dave, one who lived on the other side of the pond where they don’t love the letter Z and, by all accounts, feast on some truly dreadful dishes.  It was an a-ha moment, a thousand cheerios! and blimeys! bloomed into clarity.

But not really.

Actually, Dave’s been here since the beginning.  He’s been reading Writer Dad since words were bouncing against the walls of a mostly empty blog.  My favorite thing about Dave is that, though he left the force to be a stay at home dad, he maintains the voice of an officer (even though he was an English bobby who preferred scones to donuts and wasn’t allowed to carry a gun like a real man).  Dave is always willing to step into a situation with articulate authority, and express what he feels is right.  Sometimes with humor, other times with carefully crafted words, but always with honor.  Dave Fowler is a jolly good man and, indubitably, a Blogger I Heart.

Here’s Jeeves:

Dare To Dream

I am a chronic daydreamer.

I’ve been a daydreamer all my life, and will remain so until I close my eyes forever.

As a child I was constantly criticised for my wandering mind.

Whilst my body was in the classroom, my mind was often absent; engaged in another, far more interesting world.

Without a doubt, daydreaming held me back; at least as far as my formal
education was concerned. I simply didn’t learn half of what was taught.  In fact, I never even heard it.

I sometimes wonder what I might have become had I not been so distracted by my wandering thoughts. I’ll never know for sure, but one thing I do know…. I was born to ponder.

I love to think, and I love the random thoughts that float about my mind. My favourite thoughts are those that pull me into a dreamlike state, then coalesce to tell a story.

It is never the sort of narrative that could become a novel, or even a children’s book, rather it is a simple story about my life; my future to be more precise.

It’s a beautiful moment; detached from reality, and immersed in a daydream.

It feels real. I see the sights, hear the sounds, smell the scents, and feel the emotions.

Once the dream has finished, it feels as though it’s actually happened, and my mind lingers with the aftertaste of a memory.

I used to fight my daydreams to stave off the constant bombardment of criticism, but I’ve come to realise the inherent power in these flights of fancy. I now believe my ability to daydream is a treasure in my life, rather than the curse it was at school.

I realise that nearly everything I’ve achieved in my life has been the product of a dream developed.

When I first met the woman who would later become my wife, I used to dream about what I would say the next time I saw her. I used to dream about how we’d fall in love, how I’d propose, and how we’d live happily ever after.

I’ve fostered daydreams about my cars, my career, my house, my interests, and pretty much everything else that make up the minutes of my days.

I’ve found this to be an incredibly powerful mechanism for achieving those things I long for most.

Prior to my revelation, I’d read much about goal setting and achieving success in life through identifying key steps, setting deadlines and then writing them down. I’m sure it works for a great many people, but I am not one of them.

My goals just ended up being another list of “things to do.”  Unfortunately for me, previous experience proved me a repeated offender of ignoring such lists.

But a story …. a story pulls me in and commands my attention; transports me from one reality to another.  A different atmosphere, where anything is possible.

I can be the hero of the story, or simply observe from a short distance away. Either way, I’m still involved.

The fable of my future – born of my daydreams – captivates and excites me like little else.  I am compelled to chase those dreams.

Within the last year, I’ve dreamt outrageous dreams of leaving my job and living a new, more rewarding life. I’ve also dreamt of earning a living by creating things of value, and then inserting them into my own agenda.

The first part of my dream has already come true.  I have absolutely no doubt that the rest of the dream will also come to be a reality.

In fact, it’s already starting to happen.

I urge you – dare to dream – about what’s possible.  Buy into the story you create for yourself, then fulfill it with happiness and success.

You can find Dave speaking Constapateze here.  It’s fun to read his blog while imagining the many funny faces that English people make while speaking.

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High Five!

October 20, 2008 By 79 Comments

“I can live for two months on a good compliment.”

~Mark Twain

Anyone who questions the power of praise, should test its undiluted strength on any random pack of children.

Picture this:

A dozen kids are sitting around a table, waiting on their wedges of fruit.  The youngest, at eighteen months, is mashing his mitts on the table; the oldest is sitting quietly with his  hands braided into a nest in the seat of his lap.  The remaining wee-ones are scattered in varying shenanigans.

“My goodness,” I say.  I draw my breath, and send my eyebrows climbing.  “Look how well William is waiting.”

Instant hush hovers over the table, thicker than if I’d said Santa was in surveillance.

“I’m being patient, Mr. Sean.”

This voice tweets from a toddler who, a split second before was yodeling Yankee Doodle.  His declaration fills the air, chased by an avalanche of echos.  Even the tiniest tot looks up from his high chair, relaxes his hands, and begins to wildly clap.

We all long for validation.  It is as much a part of our DNA as the tint of our eyes, only less visible, and infinitely more important.

With my own children, I never let sun and sky split without letting them know how proud I am of precisely who they are.  Their ears perk as they stand straight and smile wide, swelling to fill the outline I’ve drawn around them.  This verbal applause gives my words gravity.  My children love it when I tell them great job, but are loathe to find me upset, disappointed, or angry.

This isn’t new age hokum I’m spitting from the right side of my brain.  There’s plenty of research to document the infinite advantage of regular praise.  I know of no analysis to disprove the theory.

There is something inside each of us, that steady beat that makes us human, always searching for a rhythm to follow, eager to find license to a tempo that’s true.  We never shed this need for compliments, any more than we do our need for sun.  Like with our star, we can burn our soul if we soak too much, but this is still far preferable to the threatening gray of a rainy day.

Each day, Daisy tells me that she’s proud of me, and then she tells me why.  I do the same for her.  That may seem corny to some, but it isn’t; it’s feeding our flames with the finest of fuel, from the purest provenance possible.

We must practice praise with our children.  It’s important for who they are, and who they will one day be.  We must of course tell them how they can do better, but we must also never forget to tell them what they have done well.  There is nothing quite like watching them recapture the magic.

Writer Dad

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Namas Daisy is talking about too much TV.  You’ll find that here.

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Crabs Don’t Walk Straight For a Reason

August 13, 2008 By 40 Comments

They must often change, who would be constant in happiness or wisdom.

~Confucious

These next months are all transition.  As our family moves from one life to the next, we must maintain the best of what we’re leaving behind, and anticipate the strange tide of an unfamiliar fate.  

Life well lived should blend consistency with adaptation, we are slaves to evolution after all.  We get one life, it should be glorious.  I want my family to take risks, aim high, and be thrilled no matter the outcome, so long as we tried. 

Daisy and I make a habit of never sitting still too long. 

In our time, we’ve made subtle shifts with modest regularity, penciling in a seismic tremor every few years. 

Our pending adventure rests on a fault line. 

Daisy’s lived everywhere; I’ve lived in the same burg since before I could walk.  She’s taught abroad, packing her rucksack with lessons learned in many countries, on several continents; I’ve rarely left my city. 

A craving to travel, born long ago, is now roaring inside me. 

I want to see everything I haven’t, learn what I don’t know, and visit places that will fill me in a way that the same half a million street signs stuck deep in the concrete of my own city never could.  Being able to find success as a writer, means my office can fit in a knapsack. 

Who am I kidding? 

In another three years, I’ll be slipping it next to my wallet. 

Few things are as romantic as the thought of working wherever I am, whenever I happen to find myself there.  And though success from the keyboard is a matter of when not if, this period is paramount to our preparation. 

Right now, we are hermit crabs looking for a bigger and better shell.  We engage in daily discussion about what’s hiding behind tomorrow’s shadow, but sometimes we get anxious for the sun to illuminate an obvious direction. 

But Writer Dad, wouldn’t overnight success be wrong?

Yes, it would.

Just as nine months of pregnancy prepares the body for the sleepless nights and new, exhausting lifestyle, we need this time to draw ourselves together.  

The biggest difficulty is knowing when to pull the plug.  We have families that are depending on us.  When our world changes, theirs will too. 

We know we’re going, but we’re not sure when. 

In the meantime, we must continue to look our clients in the eye, do the best we can to educate and nurture their children while they’re with us, and believe that everything is for a reason, and all in good time. 

A hermit crab must be sure his new home is right before he leaves his old one to the tide.

Writer Dad

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