Reason #3023 Why I Detest Connecticut

Here I sit in the waiting room at Yale-New Haven Hospital. Here have I been since nine-twenty this evening. Why am I here? Chest pains...and hemoglobin and hematocrit readings which have probably sunk below sea level.

As my arm, face, and legs go numb, I listen in fascination as I am told by uncaring nurses in the infuriating sing-song voices reserved for the very young (or the very stupid) , "It's because you're getting anxious there,ma'am. It's your breathing."

My breathing.

Foolish me.

I thought it was the dizziness, lack of blood, and erratic heart beat.

This is what comes of touting the benefits of the medical profession (of any profession) based upon prestige, primarily upon pay packets. In a hospital bearing the name of supposedly one of the most famous and "prestigious" universities in the nation, not even the basic vestiges of human decency, compassion, or professionalism are present. Stone-faced security guards joke with one another, flirt with female registrars, and exchange jovial pleasantries with familiar passersby with seemingly no regard for the suffering of those left to wait hours to be seen.

(And people ask me why I choose to suffer in "isolation" in my apartment, ya'll.)

Though it has taken everything in me not to shout out in pain, in frustration, in outrage, I have succeeded. Though obviously, we who await care are less than human, I will neither forego nor deny my own, basic human dignity. The mind may be a bit fuzzy ("anxiety," don't you know); nevertheless, regardless of the callous, condescending, often dehumanizing treatment (one of my main reasons for deciding to move to Colorado), I know that I am still a human being; that my pain and suffering have merit; that my voice is one which deserves to be heard.

In the mundane ritual of day-to-day living, perhaps we take for granted that simple truth of having not only worth as human beings but also having the right to be seen as such, to be treated as such. As I pound away, using the gentle ebb and flow of written words to bring peace, solace, succor into the midst of such insanity (not to mention agony people), I am reminded of the power of an opinion expressed, an outrage noted, a stand taken. I might not be quite able to fight the good fight at this moment, people: yet, in this situation resides yet another story to be told, another truth to be explored. This issue of dehumanization--in the refusal to recognize the pain of others, in causing harm when the creed reportedly ascribed to is "first do no harm"--is one which can be explored in depth another day.

For the moment, however...

The question is:

WHY!?!?!?!?!?!?

When It Isn't Easy

Today, I am facing the hard truth:

Chanctetinyea Ouellette is not invincible.

Fatigue and dizziness do not make for the most scintillating prose--especially as I find myself wondering how I am going to march in tomorrow's Memorial Day parade, how I am going to finish my one-thousand words when I am constantly succumbing to multiple not-enough- oxygen-to-the-brain yawns, and even how I am going to write today's entry without whining like a three-year-old.

The fact of the matter is, life poses challenges. Sometimes, that which it requires of us is minimal: other times, it all but forces us to drain the dregs of our mental, physical, and emotional reserves. As such, the task--sometimes--is not to set the world on fire but instead to retain that small spark of enthusiasm or determination which urges the self forward even when circumstances not only discourage but fine one reluctant to leave the warmth and safety of his or her bed.

Thus, off I go to shoot at my goal. One thousand words. Perhaps I won't make it this day; yet, I will get awful doggone close. If I can do it, you can do it! Remember, we're all experiencing this process together.

So, keep writing, ya'll.

Or, as my best friend more directly phrased it:

"GO WRITE!!!!!"

Heeding Good Advice

Although it is a great temptation to begin the project The Strange Adventures Soup Kitchen Girl, I shall limit my experiences and notes to a single character in a single book.

No new projects!

Even though that one would be a "hum-dinger," ya'll!

(Yes, "hum-dinger" is a legitimate literary term!

So, for those of you who know me well: I do listen...

Every once in a while!

Grants

Today finds me doing something I have not done(or even thought of doing) in years: seeking writing grants. In my enthusiastic youth, searching out the means to pursue my first love came as second nature to me. In recent years, though, I seem to espouse the notion of creative financing to everyone else (often with quite favorable results) without taking my own advice.

Why is that?

Maybe the title of today's post, therefore, should be:

Wake Up, Chance!!!!!!!!!

In the Aftermath of Last Night's Thunderstorm

This dark, chilly Sunday afternoon finds me huddled beneath a blanket in my living room-- windows throw open to let in the crisp, fresh air--as I listen to the joyful chirp of a single enthusiastic bird...and bang away at my keyboard, determined to somehow connect with my characters once again. The breaking down of subtly erected barriers has proven more complicated than I thought. Somewhere along the line, by distancing myself from my own deeper emotions, I have stifled the emotional development of my characters as well. It is hard to miss the lack of dimension and depth...and even harder to identify with them as individuals who love and live, hurt and hearken, both need others and answer to the needs they sense in those around them.
I suppose it is easy to forget that in order to write, one must be willing to put not just words and phrases upon the page but a piece of the Self. And, even though I am still a staunch advocate of my one-thousand words per day, to that, I think I should add at least one honest observation--preferably one which has radiated from the inside out, revealing not just an opinion, but the thoughts, emotions, and sensations which led to it.
That's a tall order for a "dark, chilly Sunday afternoon!"

Getting Out

One of the challenges I have faced as a writer has been the simple concept of "getting out." In order to write about life, living, and the human condition...one must first be in a position to experience life, living, and the human condition.

Well, Monday I got it into my head to join the Red Cross, Tuesday I attended my first DAT (Disaster Action Team) training seminar, and today found me sitting at a booth at a Senior Expo passing out pamphlets and mimicking the "spiels" of the seasoned volunteers as though I had actual knowledge about the topics themselves!!!! Just meeting people, "running off at the mouth" (as a good Southern girl must do), and listening to their concerns, questions, and comments really stirred my creative juices.

Writing can be such a sedentary occupation (or "calling"..."drive"..."insane obsession") that one often forgets that unless the time is made to step away from the computer, typewriter, notebook, or laptop in order to actually interact with this process of living, there is that possibility of being not a "writer," but one of those fabled fools who "write" for no other reason than they cannot "do."

Stay connected, people!

Tell me, in what ways do you "get out"...and how does this benefit your writing?

Nonfiction Proposals

This week has been an eventful one. Between attending writers' forums, discussion groups, and lectures, joining the Red Cross, and resuming my two-hour morning walks, sticking to my thousand-word minimum has proven something of a challenge. Okay, I slacked off, ya'll! I admit it. Visualize Chanctetinyea hanging her head in shame. Still, one very good thing to come from all of this was the amount of new information I amassed. Having been out of the proverbial loop for so long, learning how much has changed is a constant source of amazement for me. Most notable was the concept of the Nonfiction Proposal. At three separate events and from numerous sources, I learned about the art of writing the strong nonfiction proposal. Subsequently, I condensed my notes, which I am now sharing with you.

Components of a Nonfiction Book Proposal

1. The concept of your book 2. The contents of your book 3. The current market for your book 4. The present competition for your book (or its content) 5. Your qualifications to address the subject matter 6. Your professional (as a writer) history, and/or background 7. In what ways your book might be promoted coupled with your own "hard sell" 8. The Table of Contents for your book 9. Chapter synopses or summaries 10. Sample chapters
Writing the Nonfiction Nonfiction Proposal

1. The title of your book 2. An overview of approximately three to twelve pages, conveying your style or voice 3. Your credentials or "platform" as an author 4. Marketing information detailing other books of the same subject matter currently in print, information regarding the numbers sold, and why yours is comparable--no, superior
5. Manuscript data (which includes an approximate word count, estimated time of completion, and an idea of the number of charts, illustrations, or photographs it will contain) 6. The table of contents 7. Chapter outline with synopsis for each chapter 8. A sample chapter (research guidelines when possible to confirm how many the agent or publisher might prefer) 9. Additional materials which "sell" your concept--such as the names of anyone notable willing to endorse your book, current articles relative to the subject or theme, pertinent samples of your work (which demonstrate your ability to write knowledgeably about the topic, any articles about you, depictions of the front and back covers of any previously published books, etc. Wow. It wasn't quite so complicated years ago; however, knowledge is power. So...those of you working on that nonfiction book, make note. Also remember that one no does not submit the completed manuscript for a nonfiction work! Happy writing. And, if you pick up helpful tips or information, websites or links, please... SHARE!!!