Archive for the ‘2006 NaNoWriMo’ Category

Peace Now – Inner Peace Thoughts for 9/11

September 11, 2007


Just in case some of you want to know about this . . .

Please Pass It On to Others!

The Call is Thursday 9/13

Do you know Gay Hendricks? He’s written over 30 best-selling transformational books — books about relationships, breathing, manifestation, even golf!

Gay is are offering an upcoming teleclass that I’d like to invite you to attend at no charge.

Here’s Gay’s message about the class:

   When I was in Boulder recently, I had dinner with an old friend,    Steven Sashen. He’s one of the best “system thinkers” I know. If you want to know what REALLY makes something work, or how to make something more powerful or efficient, he’s your guy. He and I are teaming up on a new meditation course that will be offered via teleseminar.

   Steven is a longtime meditator. And when he turned his systems-thinking scope on meditation he discovered something that truly impressed me, a set of insights and practices that I wish I’d had 30 years ago. (Some of you know that I’m a longtime  meditator–in fact, I haven’t missed a day of meditation since 1973. So, anything that fine-tunes meditation is right up my alley.)

   If I’d had Steven’s insights and techniques, I think it would have accelerated my practice and my spiritual growth by years. He’s taken people who are new to meditation or who couldn’t make it work  for them – he’s even worked with teenagers and homeless people–and after just a few minutes of instruction, they’ve had experiences of peace, and deep spiritual insights that take most meditators decades to find.

   Steven’s techniques work well for advanced meditators, too. If you already have a meditation or spiritual practice, you can make an almost instant leap to a new depth and expansion.

   With Steven’s techniques you don’t need to stop (or even slow down) your thoughts and you don’t need to take time out from your busy schedule. You can do them practically anywhere.

   I could tell you more, it would be better for you to experience it yourself. So, I’ve arranged a way for you to do that.

       Go to
   When you get to the site, fill out the registration form and I’ll let you know about an upcoming free teleclass where you can discover for yourself how easily you can find deep body relaxation, greatly expanded awareness, and real inner-peace…even while the kids are demanding your attention or work is getting nuts.

   I hope you’ll join me for this new and exciting opportunity,

   Gay Hendricks

The teleclass is going to be really fun and interesting and there’s a chance to get a $400 gift. I hope you can make it, too.

presented by Garuda, Inc.

Have fun!


“It is no sign of mental health to be well-adjusted to an insane world.”

                 The Dalai Lama


Too Much?

November 29, 2006

I ran into one of the other NaNoWriMo participants at Whole Foods yesterday. She said “hi” back, but I had the definite sense of being avoided.

It’s funny. She’s a very outspoken person and I would have expected her to be the type to say, “I’m in a hurry and can’t talk right now.” That may indeed have been the case. I don’t really know.

But of course, Monkey Mind doesn’t accept the face value simple answers from us. Of course not! That’s why we call it Monkey Mind.

So, Monkey Mind has now made up this silly (or is it?) story. It goes like this:

I posted a few hundred words from the first part of my first attempt at “Ann’s Tale: There’s Another Mile to Go” on the NaNoWriMo page. What if she read it and was offended? That would be easy to do. There’s a naked body (mine) on the first page.

Who knows?

More to the point: Whose business am I in when I think that thought?



*** There are 3 kinds of business: God’s, someone else’s and mine. It clearly is not mine.


November 29, 2006


I’m confirming something I’ve known about myself for some years now. I am not so much a writer in the sense of a craftsman. I don’t crave the art of it. I don’t revel in the mechanics of it. Not one bit. I know Kurt does. He’s studied this stuff his whole life. I enjoy listening to him about it. I don’t feel motiated to do what he talks about.

What I love to do is write letters. That’s it.

I’ve alway said I write to communicate. I must have an audience or I have nothing to say.

When I wrote my admissions essays back in the mid-90’s for grad school, I couldn’t write a word until I had called the department and spoken to a human being, someone who was likely to be the reader. I usually spoke to the faculty advisor. I’d ask what they wanted in the paper, have a few minutes of conversation with them, and I got of the phone ready to write. No problem. I had an audience.

So, it has been nearly terminally frustrating to try to do NaNoWriMo.

I’m not motivated to write fiction in the first place. Nor am I motivated to write an outline, create conflicts, create characters, get characters in and out of those conflicts and show, don’t tell, in the meantime.


Sure, the “show, don’t tell” edict still applies, but the rest of it?


In an attempt to pander to my proclivities, I created a word document and dutifully titled it “Letters,” thinking that maybe I could make up characters that Ann would write to, based on real life friends, of course, but made up.

That document remains blank, but this blog, well, I have a real audience. You.

This “problem” turned up when I tried to write something for Eric Francis. I’m not done trying to submit something to him that he will publish, but I have been regrouping since it first came up in July. I don’t know what all of the shortcomings of my attempts may have been, but even I could see that they were forced and weren’t going where I wanted them to.

So, for a while I wrote in to the forums on his site. Somewhere in there, he wrote me a note and suggested that I not write as if I’m writing directly to him.


Fortunately, by now I’ve read some of the other astrologers and participants on his site and I can more easily address the group, but he caught me in my biggest characteristic as a writer… I write to a specific audience.

Even more fortunately, I am of the Steven Sashen school of thought that a seeming “problem” is nothing more than the pointer to the “solution.” Every single problem we have is practically screaming the answer to us.

I might be willing to learn to write better letters.

I am definitely willing to put effort into putting my letters together in some sequence that tells a story, writing some connecting material and bringing it together to say something that is meaningful. Yes. I’ll do all of that.

So, here I am blogging in an attempt to write another 14,000 words for NaNoWriMo. It’s physically possible. It’s even probable if I write enough letters.



Self-Imposed Goals

November 26, 2006

Aren’t they all?  Really?

When I began NaNoWriMo on November 1, I have to say I was not totally commited to finishing something I hardly knew how to start. Now, in typical Sagittarius Sun, Midheaven, Mercury, Mars, Jupiter, Pallas and Juno fashion I am shooting my arrows toward a goal.

Yeah, that’s a lot of Centaur energy in my chart and it’s all in the 9th house. Well, except the Sun depending on how you do that. The 9th house is the house governed by Sagittarius. Jupiter rules it. It’s the planet of fortune, expansion, teaching, philosophy and more. The Sun is our Self. The Midheaven has to do with how the world sees us in a certain way.  Mercury is how we communicate. Mars is how we act. For more on Pallas and Juno, asteroids, check or I don’t have time right now. I’m on a deadline.

Yep. I’ve made it mine. Midnight, November 30 there will be 50,000 words in a document titled Ann’s Tale or I will know the reason why!

So, folks, no more here till then.



Another Ireland Note

November 8, 2006

Frankly, I think this is a bit lame. But I’ve been working toward writing 50,000 words on the fictionalized version of my memoir since November 1… sans outline … sans plot … sans sanity, if you ask me.

I might make the word goal, but next time I try this sort of insanity I will be sure to bring an outline, a structure, something!

It’s okay. I don’t really want to be writing this as fiction. I just see the value in doing so. I hate the process. I told that to another writer at brunch a few weeks ago. I said I didn’t want to write fiction. She took me at face value and said, “Then don’t. It’s too much work.” I can’t seem to stop it. At least not until I try.

So here are about 300 words that issued from my fingers today in an effort to write something, anything.

I used to say that when I travel, I finally feel comfortable in a place when I have found the health food store, the Indian restaurant and the Starbucks. I found all of those quickly in Ireland, but I never felt at home there.

The health food store was tiny. It had wooden floors, like all health food stores should, but the products on the shelves were mostly unfamiliar to me. I saw a few things I recognized, but the brands and packaging were not those comfortable familiar objects I saw at home. There would be Vitamin C, but no Solar Ray brand of it. Chai, but none was Oregon, not even Third Street which I hated. Even the way things were lined up on the shelves seemed foreign and unfamiliar.

The Indian restaurant was closer. I mean, being a foreign restaurant in a foreign country, how much difference could there be? They served pakoras and dal and saag panir. Good. So far. The décor was dark wood rich with tapestries of blue people and gold and red borders. So. The chai was spicy and sweet. Good. This I could deal with. Funny to find that the very foreign was the most familiar thing in a foreign country.

Starbucks. You’re not going to believe this, but at the Cork airport in Ireland, I went to the Starbucks counter asking for the Ethiopian Sidamo that was on the menu board. “I’m sorry,” the girl told me, “this is our first week to be open and the Ethiopian Sidamo has not arrived yet.” Oh dear. So, I drank Costa Rica blend and liked it. I normally don’t drink Starbucks at home anymore, but I guess even at the airport, after hours and hours of airplane travel, I realized that any taste of home was better than none.

*shrug* It’s word count at this point, that counts.




October 28, 2006

At about 11 am I was on the phone with my friend, Ralph, catching up on some things. I started hearing some kind of loud, sharp noise that could have been someone poking around downstairs. Because the carpet was removed for the painters to do the trim, and I have no car in the driveway, the place looks pretty empty. So, I asked Ralph to stay on the phone while I checked. Nobody was there. I figured maybe the house was shifting. I had the stereo on and I was mostly focused on our conversation.

A few minutes later, an officer rang the doorbell insistently and I trundled downstairs quickly (in my nightshirt… I had run bathwater, but then Ralph called). He informed me that there was a fire next door and I should probably (how’s that for the Most Gratuitous Use of “Probably” in an email?) leave the house till they had it under control.

Since he didn’t grab me or insist I walk out the door in my nightshirt, I went back upstairs, dressed quickly in last night’s clothes, while turning off and packing the computer, grabbed my purse and cell phone.

I saw flames shooting out of the condo 3 doors down from us as I left the house. That helped my adrenaline levels quite a bit. Aubrey tells me I was not quite coherent on the phone, that I was missing some of her questions. Okay. Maybe I was a little bit shocked.

At one point, describing the scene to someone on the phone, I counted about 13 or 14 emergency vehicles with accompanying official-looking personnel.

Apparently, it was so well known that drug dealers live there that when our realtor called, he told *me* about it relieving me of the decision just as I was trying to figure out how to say something. Aubrey has information from a friend in the sheriff’s department that an arrest was made on a previous controlled substance warrant, but no Haz Mat team showed up, so no one was making drugs at that moment.

They let us go back into our houses, all but the one where the fire started and the one adjacent after about 4 hours. So, about 2:30 or 3. The rest of my day was kind of a wash other than a good conversation with Cricket. I just finished talking with Aubrey for half an hour and then I called Sean for a little emotional support, and left a message for Ralph that I’d like to talk tomorrow.

I can smell smoke (and paint), but I feel like it’s more in the air. I believe we’re far enough away that any damage here is unlikely.

Aubrey told me that her mother said, “Oh, how awful!” and Aubrey assured her that, while certainly there were losses, it might help clean up the neighborhood.

Even her realtor called me and offered to come by and be emotional support. He’s completely different than I’d expect a realtor to be. He has consistently offered to be there for us if we get overwhelmed at all. I told him I have a good support system, but that I’d call if need be, and that there was apparently no smoke damage that we could find at this point.

I wonder if a fire will figure in my fiction now?  🙂  I’m beginning to look at everything, every story that happens as fuel for the f… no wait, let’s choose a cooler metaphor… as . . . I don’t know… fodder, inspiration.

Okay, I will likely sleep like a log.

I’m okay. My roommate is okay. We’re both a little shaken, but that would be normal. 

I’ve been taking time to be as aware as possible of “who’s business am I in when I think that thought?” after becoming aware that I have used other people’s business to avoid my own.  So, I’m not all that interested in this whole story beyond whatever plot line the experience might assist or whatever assistance a live human being might need around here, especially my roommate re: the refurbishing and sale of her house.

Good night,
~ Stacy