tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67931487403801607892024-03-13T21:39:31.774-04:00ramblings of a recovering insecureaholicJeanne Veillette Bowermanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07693112521911135141noreply@blogger.comBlogger28125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6793148740380160789.post-75559720944543078792011-01-13T13:54:00.001-05:002011-04-06T13:41:00.231-04:00The Blog Has a New Home.... on WordpressI've jumped the webisphere and officially moved over to Wordpress. <br />
<div><br />
</div><div>I feel so grown up. <br />
<div><br />
</div><div><b>You can find my new posts on </b><a href="http://jeannevb.com/"><b>http://jeannevb.com</b></a><b> </b></div><div><br />
</div><div>I hope all my blogger followers will find me on the new site! </div><div><br />
</div><div>I appreciate you all taking the journey of insecurity with me this past year, and I look forward to sharing more of my musings with you. </div><div><br />
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</div></div>Jeanne Veillette Bowermanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07693112521911135141noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6793148740380160789.post-17156121653523868172010-12-31T13:18:00.003-05:002010-12-31T16:16:42.954-05:00The Gift of Time<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiycD6ZTxO2nrmCIrXqXvmFWrhJblEahXfgOAO0JpvXrbUh8GNRHr2LzOgqFIXw7eSOaknL49vpYovM9l2m_Lwz5TYHANLG3fUKA4GU24_nTD3AyLFoq4fWa1cM9GLHZMvsgbrAGLTi_bk/s1600/61a6e973bccef946.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiycD6ZTxO2nrmCIrXqXvmFWrhJblEahXfgOAO0JpvXrbUh8GNRHr2LzOgqFIXw7eSOaknL49vpYovM9l2m_Lwz5TYHANLG3fUKA4GU24_nTD3AyLFoq4fWa1cM9GLHZMvsgbrAGLTi_bk/s1600/61a6e973bccef946.jpeg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;">In 2011, I'm going to guard and protect my time as if it were a living being in need of my ninja skills. </span></b><span style="text-decoration: none;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;">#learntosayNO</span></b></span> <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #353232; font-family: Arial;">The other day, I declared the above goal on Twitter. I hope I can succeed. Of all of my personal goals for the New Year, this is the one that matters most. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #353232; font-family: Arial;">Time. It is far more fragile and precious than we treat it. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #353232; font-family: Arial;">I challenge you all to think about time this year. How you use it. Why you waste it. If you squeeze every last drop out of it. If you wish it away. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #353232; font-family: Arial;">I promise you, if you do the latter, you’ll ultimately wish you had it back.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #353232; font-family: Arial;">Respect your time. Make other people respect your time. Demand that. Do it for yourself. Do it for your family. Do it for your sanity. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #353232; font-family: Arial;">I am now declaring publicly that I will protect my time as if my life depended on it. While I’d love to read all your scripts and manuscripts, write projects for you and with you, promote your work, read every blog post, watch every short film, and spend hours helping all of you, I simply can’t. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #353232; font-family: Arial;">In 2010, I accomplished more than I ever could have dreamed. I squeezed every second out of a day… and then some. But in doing so, I reached a breaking point that threatened to push me over the edge of sanity. I gave too much of myself without nurturing myself in return. I can’t do that for another year. It will kill me. Most importantly, I missed far too many moments with my teenage children, who are growing faster than I care to admit. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #353232; font-family: Arial;">Will I continue to be your Twitter Pimp Angel? <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">HELL, YES!</b> But I will now ask myself each time a request comes my way, “If I say yes, will I resent it later… will it distract too much from my own goals… will it take too much time away from my family?” I urge you to ask yourself those same questions when your time is on the line. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #353232; font-family: Arial;">I have no doubt I am at an impasse in my career. I am <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">right there</i>. So close I can taste it. I need to grab that brass ring, and to do that, I need time to continue to prepare myself, and my writing, for when the ring flies by on the carousel of this insane ride. I need to be ready for the opportunity. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #353232; font-family: Arial;">I need time to do that. I deserve to give myself that gift. My children deserve it.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #353232; font-family: Arial;">Are you using your time to its fullest? More importantly, are you really nurturing yourself enough? How do you juggle family and career? Do you feel balanced? <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #353232; font-family: Arial;">I’d love to know how you all manage your time. I could definitely use some advice. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #353232; font-family: Arial;">I wish for you a glorious year of love, success, happiness… and the time to enjoy it. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #353232; font-family: Arial;">Happy New Year! <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjUwMcwThfQ6ksBh9hxOIm0bsjUwd44zfduvE7HBSwaGkFYl3PtwCP554x5Ctwg6zR6fxHcMkxw-hc83PsN40sJ21vr11txID4GNVFY954T6clj29-zxmfj2NDmxg2l9jDnKJ4pyR9GAk/s1600/thumbnail.aspx.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjUwMcwThfQ6ksBh9hxOIm0bsjUwd44zfduvE7HBSwaGkFYl3PtwCP554x5Ctwg6zR6fxHcMkxw-hc83PsN40sJ21vr11txID4GNVFY954T6clj29-zxmfj2NDmxg2l9jDnKJ4pyR9GAk/s1600/thumbnail.aspx.jpeg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #353232; font-family: Arial;"><br />
</span></div>Jeanne Veillette Bowermanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07693112521911135141noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6793148740380160789.post-5313239894794898462010-12-22T23:42:00.001-05:002010-12-23T08:24:30.938-05:00From Country Girl to Film Courage: The Power of Community<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjohdP-GW1mJhLbGRKzppjbJotfLg4ahgORJ9J-C6mCAaq33fBI3QbKLAmBawHXJMcxOHdaMJfEMthWszMd0rTXYxKjloLnXXdbvXhVnkulSyqYKYYq5F7yHs2GE8sOYi09Um63WkSpWkM/s1600/filmcourage_logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="96" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjohdP-GW1mJhLbGRKzppjbJotfLg4ahgORJ9J-C6mCAaq33fBI3QbKLAmBawHXJMcxOHdaMJfEMthWszMd0rTXYxKjloLnXXdbvXhVnkulSyqYKYYq5F7yHs2GE8sOYi09Um63WkSpWkM/s320/filmcourage_logo.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
Last week, I had the honor of participating in a fun Christmas campaign by <b><a href="http://draft.blogger.com/goog_354132969">David</a></b><a href="http://draft.blogger.com/goog_354132969"> </a><b><a href="http://twitter.com/davidbranin">Branin</a></b> and <b><a href="http://twitter.com/karenworden">Karen Worden</a></b> of <b><a href="http://www.filmcourage.com/">Film Courage</a></b>. They gave the gift of allowing their audience to choose the radio guest for December 26<sup>th</sup>. This past Sunday, they announced I had won the spot! I’m beyond thrilled to represent not only the <b><a href="http://scriptchat.blogspot.com/p/about-treefort-creators.html">Scriptchat treefort</a></b>, but also all the members of our incredible community of screenwriters. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The fun-spirited “competition” between myself and the other nominees didn’t lead to fist fights, slander, or smack talk, it lead to a widening of an already incredible community. It was truly a Christmas miracle. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’d like to formally tip my pimp fedora to <b><a href="http://twitter.com/fearlessactress">Andrea Shreeman</a></b> and <b><a href="http://twitter.com/OklahomaWard">Oklahoma Ward</a></b>, both who put up a fierce fight to the end. Because of their efforts and support, David and Karen have promised them slots to guest in 2011. I can’t wait to help promote their appearances and their projects. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Another huge shout out to <b><a href="http://twitter.com/HalCroasmun">Hal Croasmun</a></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">, </b>president of <b><a href="http://www.screenwritingu.com/">ScreenwritingU</a></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">,</b> for rallying all the Pro Series alumni to cast their votes, as well as <b><a href="http://twitter.com/janefriedman">Jane Friedman</a></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> </b>and<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> </b><b><a href="http://twitter.com/thrillerchick">JT Ellison</a></b>, who did the final weekend push of support. Of course, the enormous rock-the-treehouse effort was led by my fellow treefort members, <b><a href="http://twitter.com/kageynyc">Kim Garland</a></b>, <b><a href="http://twitter.com/yeah_write">Jamie Livingston</a></b>, <b><a href="http://twitter.com/zacsanford">Zac Sanford</a></b> and <b><a href="http://twitter.com/dreamsgrafter">Mina Zaher</a></b>. I would be lost without all of you! </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">To all who voted, pimped me out on Twitter and Facebook, and watched the Scriptchat feed light on fire, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Imagine little old country girl me, on the LA Talk Radio station, all because of an astounding community of writers uniting! I’m blown away, and so grateful to have all of your support and encouragement. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Please listen in on <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><u>Sunday, December 26</u></span><sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><u>th</u></span></sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><u> at Noon PST</u></span></b>. You can go to the <b><a href="http://www.filmcourage.com/">Film Courage</a></b> page and click on my face, or go to <b><a href="http://LATalkRadio.com/">LATalkRadio.com</a></b> and click on the Film Courage icon. If you miss the show, you’ll be able to listen to an archived version.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I should warn you, I sound like I’m 12. <span style="font-family: Wingdings;">J</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Happy Holidays! You guys rock!</div>Jeanne Veillette Bowermanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07693112521911135141noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6793148740380160789.post-32540466382411617802010-11-28T11:29:00.001-05:002010-11-28T11:30:27.512-05:00The Choices We Make<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSL9NjAjxXmzwt5oEWrXGgs2dVF22L38MEWoWcHV6z3XJiL8_b-uSezrEQpR-qmUkRcFJXFXTUEiUrjNzydjZ9085TomQaoq14UO5mJWmE28bLnTSStqcxpfUxrnONgUoherUF6qkV_6c/s1600/IMG_0001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSL9NjAjxXmzwt5oEWrXGgs2dVF22L38MEWoWcHV6z3XJiL8_b-uSezrEQpR-qmUkRcFJXFXTUEiUrjNzydjZ9085TomQaoq14UO5mJWmE28bLnTSStqcxpfUxrnONgUoherUF6qkV_6c/s320/IMG_0001.jpg" width="188" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">What makes us who we are? Why do we make the choices we do? Those are questions I ask of my characters and also of myself.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">This month, I made choices that were slightly insane, to say the least. In November, both my mother and my husband had scheduled surgeries, I got a new freelance gig, had 13 houseguests for Thanksgiving, and I still went through with my promise to myself to participate in my first NaNoWriMo, a challenge to write a 50,000-word novel in 30 days. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The most common question people asked me this month was where I got my drive. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The answer was, surprisingly, not tequila. It was, “Mom”. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">As a little girl, I'd watch her beauty as she switched from being a gourmet chef to a construction worker, doing both effortlessly. This woman could run laps around Gloria Steinem. No Barbies for me. She thought they were sexist. Okay, so I didn’t like everything about my mother. But she was, and still is, a one-woman dynamo. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I wanted to be her when I grew up.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">When she was pregnant with me, we moved from Connecticut to the Chicago suburbs. As a country girl, the idea of living in a city was Mom's worst nightmare. Neighbors everywhere, and real friends nowhere. They stared from behind their curtains at her as she defied the logic of most housewives, digging in the dirt, actually playing with her children, and quitting smoking. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">One spring day in 1964, the neighborhood Stepford Husbands pulled out their sprinklers. My mom watched in amazement as they carefully synchronized the swish of the flow, all to avoid wetting the sidewalk. That night, my father informed her she needed to get a sprinkler so we'd be "in sync" in our new neighborhood. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Her response, "Yes, Dear." </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The next day, my dad returned from work, driving down the street, witnessing the left, right, left, right, left, right water dance, anxious to see his own yard in unison. As he pulled up, there before him was a loud, circular sprinkler – swoosh, swoosh, swoosh – watering not only our yard, but also the entire sidewalk. Neighbors peeked through the curtains in disgust. My mother opened her curtains wide, smiling. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">With one purchase, she made her statement. We didn’t last the year. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">After Illinois, we moved to the country in Upstate, NY. Mom was in heaven. We bought a run down 200-yr-old house on 150 acres. No sprinklers and not a neighbor in site. She didn’t even put up curtains. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYjEd7gVBL8BGHHchC0R1fhyphenhyphenH_GRdXPdqAd1jBojOL9E0i_rfDZLVUBbs8fqeEbUtKcQZrfU2jHoV8zeaCyfbvEtTlP95Tqql953TNlTWcDewENVApYBuBqIp0UVzGMs8qBHYxuC5bF4o/s1600/IMG_0006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYjEd7gVBL8BGHHchC0R1fhyphenhyphenH_GRdXPdqAd1jBojOL9E0i_rfDZLVUBbs8fqeEbUtKcQZrfU2jHoV8zeaCyfbvEtTlP95Tqql953TNlTWcDewENVApYBuBqIp0UVzGMs8qBHYxuC5bF4o/s320/IMG_0006.jpg" width="300" /></a>We let dandelions grow freely. Mom celebrated the yellow, multiplying flowers and had the four of us barefoot with buckets picking dandelions for her to make dandelion wine. When she wasn’t making wine, sewing dresses or having weekly barbeques, she was wielding tools and fixing the old house. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My childhood home was always full of construction workers. There was one in particular I remember – Jules, the excavator. Maybe it was because he reeked of dirt and drove a really cool bulldozer, or perhaps it was because he dug the hole that spewed water, creating a mud puddle that would later be our pond. But most likely, it was because he came in every day and had an Irish coffee. I marveled at the smell of the whiskey on his breath and how his face glowed a rosy color. His laugh was infectious. I was all of five, but he left a lasting impression. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">With piles of dirt covering our yard, Jules took ill and needed a few days off. My mother watched the empty bulldozer from her kitchen window, tapping her foot, anxious to see it moving again. I remember the heat of that summer day. My mom was in a bikini – I will say, she was nearing 40 with a smokin’ hot body. Perhaps that’s why the contractors loved working for her.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Itching to see progress of any kind, she jumped up on the roof of the porch and ripped down boards in between swatting flies. Every once in a while, she’d look over at that still bulldozer taunting her from the distance. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I noticed a look in her eyes as she glared the beast down, like they were having a telepathic conversation of double-dog dare. A little gleam came to her face. She jumped off the porch roof and marched over to the dinosaur. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4ZFShow4eVP9Cb_4iGe53iuJ8FWqz6b_Ly6QFM6k2MIuzrI3-TMIn6BPc__2gq2xXUJE-vXnzYa997i-6aZrWGjuBLmhEBlTxZyFWLd-0DVYtnET-w6pzn-foH416NbznH47LyKdIGkA/s1600/IMG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="311" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4ZFShow4eVP9Cb_4iGe53iuJ8FWqz6b_Ly6QFM6k2MIuzrI3-TMIn6BPc__2gq2xXUJE-vXnzYa997i-6aZrWGjuBLmhEBlTxZyFWLd-0DVYtnET-w6pzn-foH416NbznH47LyKdIGkA/s320/IMG.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>My petite mother, 5 foot 2, 100 pounds soaking wet, with rock hard abs (not something in vogue in 1968) stood next to the intimidating yellow monster and grabbed hold, pulling herself into the seat. I was in awe. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">She turned the key. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Vroom</i>. I think she was more shocked than I when she pulled the lever and the monster moved. It didn’t take her long before she was a pro. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">What I remember most is the look of satisfaction she sported at the end of that day. She had conquered the machine and moved mountains of soil, despite being… a woman. And a woman she was, with a unique combination of grace, beauty, charm and strength. She set the bar high for me. <br />
<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" /></div><div class="MsoNormal">For the next five days, she owned that sucker. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">When Jules came back and saw what she accomplished, he stood speechless for at least five minutes. I held my breath and waited for him to scream at her for touching his baby. But, he didn’t. He slowly smiled and admired her work. The yard looked fabulous. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Finally, Jules mumbled, “You wanna come work for me?” When she got done laughing, albeit with great pride, she politely turned him down… all while pouring him a double shot of whiskey in his coffee. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I knew right then I wanted to be her when I grew up. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Who influenced you and the choices you make? Was it a teacher, a friend, a parent, or a complete stranger? Think back and honor that person in the comments below. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">If you’re a writer, consider who had the most impact on your characters. It might spark some fresh ideas. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">By the way, when I finished my NaNoWriMo challenge in 19 days, I had the same expression on my face as my mother. NaNo wasn’t a bulldozer, but I moved a mountain of words. It felt fantastic.<br />
<br />
</div>Jeanne Veillette Bowermanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07693112521911135141noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6793148740380160789.post-39747129038923775902010-10-15T11:41:00.000-04:002010-10-15T11:41:26.952-04:00Succeed by Giving<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">#PIMPtipoftheday: When you network, ask what you can do for THEM, not what they can do for you. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">That was today’s tip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I sent it out and wondered what the reaction would be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><b><u>Networking</u>: the exchange of information or services among individuals, groups, or institutions; the cultivation of productive relationships for employment or business</b><o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Do you see the word “selfish” in the definition?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t think so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I witness so many people on Twitter “network” by solely promoting themselves or asking, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What can you do for ME?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Maybe they don’t directly come out and ask that question, but the subtext in their actions screams it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When my DM stream gets clogged up with “gimme, gimme, gimme”, I shake my head in disbelief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Pondering this selfishness made me take a look back at my own networking strategy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where had I achieved the most success?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why had those connections succeeded and not others?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The answer didn’t surprise me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I helped them first.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Proactively.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Happily.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Without obligation or expectation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just reached out and helped simply because I could.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Period.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Through an intertwining series of networking opportunities, I landed a gig teaching a <a href="http://jeanneveillettebowerman.blogspot.com/2010/09/pimps-and-power-point-together-at-last.html">screenwriting webinar</a> for <a href="http://writersdigest.com/">Writer’s Digest</a>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That class was yesterday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I learned from teaching.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The participants learned from listening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But we all connected on a selfless level.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My email inbox was pinging like mad after the class with exclamations of gratitude and declarations of a break in their writer’s block.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You can’t imagine how great that felt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Teaching is just another way of helping people, bringing them joy, and giving them skills they need to succeed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hope to do it often.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So, as your Twitter Pimp Angel turned teacher, here’s your homework assignment: </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">Do something selfless for someone in the next week. Don’t expect a thing in return. Just reach out and help. I double-dog dare you not to enjoy the rewards. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Does this mean you can never ask for help?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Absolutely not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It just means you need to give back too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don’t be a Hoover, sucking all the energy out of your relationships.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nurture them and give something first.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">You really do get back what you give.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><!--EndFragment-->Jeanne Veillette Bowermanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07693112521911135141noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6793148740380160789.post-72252350953599647602010-09-28T16:49:00.000-04:002010-09-28T16:49:12.181-04:00Pimps and Power Point, Together at Last<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.writersdigestshop.com/product/How_to_Write_a_Marketable_Screenplay/?r=jeanne" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs-IBwZLsDXOyqKet6FN-6nW3mCXWO-RkrPDD76ULPUvUZM07wqytQwmTKzVR4pvyrVCdDTQV6Vbx-1-mxLnoZx4K1Pl7KEhSjeFTq4cBaesOdgylExgHDbysdcclcHgc3a9ZJfEI-Hy8/s1600/X4801.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #372922; font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 20.0pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">That’s right, I’m teaching. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #372922; font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 20.0pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><a href="http://writersdigest.com/">Writer’s Digest</a> has provided me with an incredible opportunity to share my screenwriting knowledge with their community of writers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #372922; font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 20.0pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">On October 14<sup>th</sup> at 1pm, I’ll be teaching a live webinar, entitled, <i><a href="http://draft.blogger.com/goog_1194229085">How to Write a Marketable Screenplay: Learn how to structure your script the Hollywood way</a></i><a href="http://www.writersdigestshop.com/product/How_to_Write_a_Marketable_Screenplay/?r=jeanne">.</a><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #372922; font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 20.0pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">All the details of the webinar can be found on the <a href="http://twitter.com/writersdigest">Writer’s Digest</a> site <b><a href="http://www.writersdigestshop.com/product/How_to_Write_a_Marketable_Screenplay/?r=jeanne">HERE</a></b>. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #372922; font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 20.0pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">If you’ve always been curious about screenwriting, please join the class, and I’ll provide you with as much knowledge as I can fit in 75 minutes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #372922; font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 20.0pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">You’ll even have the opportunity to send me the first three pages of your script for a quick critique.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll try not to make you cry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #372922; font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 20.0pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">And, if you’re good in class, I may even pass out cookies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><!--EndFragment-->Jeanne Veillette Bowermanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07693112521911135141noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6793148740380160789.post-54282562172516939002010-09-13T19:09:00.003-04:002010-09-13T19:35:03.819-04:00Editing is Murder... and other tips<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKiIX8cgDAvpNpeFe04uYzl9_Rdpjev2kCMiruqHSye7QJ4mq4I566-cyMPT49rOOCEFjbCZpUyEfFlhTpfbXyuUH2YqYqLbmC9hyQ6SS8RhkCV3K3ALP0DeWxPhINQKpR4npL5KrJX3k/s1600/IMG00118-20100913-1917.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKiIX8cgDAvpNpeFe04uYzl9_Rdpjev2kCMiruqHSye7QJ4mq4I566-cyMPT49rOOCEFjbCZpUyEfFlhTpfbXyuUH2YqYqLbmC9hyQ6SS8RhkCV3K3ALP0DeWxPhINQKpR4npL5KrJX3k/s320/IMG00118-20100913-1917.jpg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">My writing partner and I recently cut 25 pages of </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><a href="http://jeanneveillettebowerman.blogspot.com/p/slavery-by-another-name-pulitzer.html">SLAVERY BY ANOTHER NAME</a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"> in order to meet contest requirements.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">Daunting, to say the least.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">But in the process, I learned I love editing.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">I’ve always said, “Love is in the details”.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I love writing, even the gritty nasty parts.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">As I tweeted out my progress, writers started sharing their own tips. Whenever I learn from others, I aim to spread the love.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><a href="http://twitter.com/peevishpenman">Carrie Bailey</a> of Peevish Penman graciously offered me the perfect venue for </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><i><b><a href="http://peevishpenman.blogspot.com/2010/09/editing-is-murder.html">Editing is Murder</a></b></i>, my latest in a recent string of editing and rewrite pieces. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The previous two were for <a href="http://twitter.com/tylerweaver">Tyler Weaver’s</a> <a href="http://multi-hyphenate.com/">Multi-Hyphenate</a> on what I learned at <a href="http://www.stonybrook.edu/writers/screenwriting/">Stony Brook Southampton Screenwriters Conference</a>, specifically, rewrites and handling feedback:<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 20.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><b><span style="color: #2f2f2f; font-family: Arial;"><a href="http://multi-hyphenate.com/?p=1113"><i><span style="color: #a84441; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">Stony Brook, Rewrites, and Tequila (Part One)</span></i></a><o:p></o:p></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #2f2f2f; font-family: Arial;"><a href="http://multi-hyphenate.com/?p=1142"><i><span style="color: #a84441; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;">Stony Brook, Rewrites, and Tequila (Part Two)</span></i></a><o:p></o:p></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #2f2f2f; font-family: Arial;">If you’re looking for other writing tips, you can find great information on <a href="http://peevishpenman.blogspot.com/">Peevish Penman</a> as well as the <a href="http://scriptchat.blogspot.com/">Scriptchat blog</a>.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #2f2f2f; font-family: Arial;">Don’t dread editing. Embrace it. You can't be a true writer without the courage to kill your own words.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #2f2f2f; font-family: Arial;"><br />
</span></div>Jeanne Veillette Bowermanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07693112521911135141noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6793148740380160789.post-27123472971549176052010-09-08T17:12:00.003-04:002010-09-09T17:18:06.114-04:00Scriptchat has arrived!What started as a little Twitter screenwriting chat on Sunday evenings has turned into an internet phenomenon.... okay, maybe just a big screenwriter party of learning. <br />
<br />
<a href="http://scriptmag.com/">Script Magazine</a> mentions #<a href="http://scriptchat.com/">scriptchat</a> in the November/December 2010 issue! <br />
<br />
Thanks to <a href="http://twitter.com/joshuascriptmag">Joshua Stecker</a>, West Coast Editor and wonderful supporter of scriptchat, we appear on the page alongside other recommended websites for screenwriters. We even share the page with <a href="http://twitter.com/johnaugust">John August</a>!<br />
<br />
The smiley stickers are plastered all over the scriptchat #treefort!<br />
<br />
Long live the generous screenwriting community, our <b><a href="http://scriptchat.blogspot.com/p/about-treefort-creators.html">treefort team</a></b>... and tequila!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC9vhBxjdvk1gnO-G6Q0L2nD_ZakEZmGZAKMzd2IcIePymB4JaKkaxvJPZ5HaYu27xIa1O1nymC3_K51fUwtWPZf_Q9udjU0iZZQfi2dwe29Y96L3Jwc0nqpYUH0wud2Yij76s6L3VVQc/s1600/Scan_Pic0001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC9vhBxjdvk1gnO-G6Q0L2nD_ZakEZmGZAKMzd2IcIePymB4JaKkaxvJPZ5HaYu27xIa1O1nymC3_K51fUwtWPZf_Q9udjU0iZZQfi2dwe29Y96L3Jwc0nqpYUH0wud2Yij76s6L3VVQc/s640/Scan_Pic0001.jpg" width="464" /></a></div>Jeanne Veillette Bowermanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07693112521911135141noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6793148740380160789.post-46469411630406748712010-08-17T16:02:00.009-04:002010-08-23T11:06:00.577-04:00lessons come with a stingI have been bitchslapped by Sundance. I only have one thing to say to Robert Redford: <br />
<br />
“Thank you, Sir, may I have another?”<br />
<br />
If you follow me on Twitter, you’re probably familiar with my journey to get our script, <a href="http://jeanneveillettebowerman.blogspot.com/p/slavery-by-another-name-pulitzer.html">SLAVERY BY ANOTHER NAME</a>, into the <a href="http://www.sundance.org/press_subgen.html?articleID=8&colorCode=blue">Sundance Screenwriters Lab</a>. Yeah, it was our dream. A big one. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS9IjomhRBOrtfYwCvnJEfjvl87nwGbNLYoXYiSnN8p2mqynzAI_i2l8_OoLlVYq_hP1Of55WHEoXHL78bkUSBaxdFhpdoBr_EwKeGTi0tKNT3UITrJ4G0zNkaR_FN76SXgAX0gGjillE/s1600/IMG00001-20100426-1646.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS9IjomhRBOrtfYwCvnJEfjvl87nwGbNLYoXYiSnN8p2mqynzAI_i2l8_OoLlVYq_hP1Of55WHEoXHL78bkUSBaxdFhpdoBr_EwKeGTi0tKNT3UITrJ4G0zNkaR_FN76SXgAX0gGjillE/s320/IMG00001-20100426-1646.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Am I upset they passed? <br />
Sure. <br />
<br />
Did I cry? <br />
You betcha. <br />
<br />
Did I get angry? <br />
Just ask my heavy bag in the basement. <br />
<br />
Do I feel defeated? <br />
<b>Not on your life. </b><br />
<br />
I. Am. Grateful. <br />
<br />
I’m grateful in part because it’s with rejection and failure we learn the most. <br />
<br />
<b>Just ask yourself if you learned anything when things came easy to you. I bet the answer is no. </b><br />
<br />
I know I haven’t. It’s only those journeys full of pain and obstacles where real growth has happened for me.<br />
<br />
In short, this script was my black belt in writing. Hands down. It kicked my ass every single day. But, I took the beating and kept coming back for more. <br />
<br />
On February 1, 2010, my writing partner, Doug, and I started with a 31-page outline, and 11 weeks later, we had our submission off to Sundance. In between that time, I wrote 12-hr days, never took a single day off, went to NYC to meet with Doug and <a href="http://scripteach.com/">Bill Pace</a>, our fabulous script consultant, and barely saw my family. <br />
<br />
I cried many tears while writing. It wasn't because I was tired or thought for even a minute I wasn't capable of doing it. I knew we'd kick this out of the park. I cried because of the enormous weight we felt to “get it right” for the African-American community. We didn't take that responsibility lightly. Sundance accepting us wasn’t about an advance of our careers, it was about the advancement of this incredible story… and the truth being told. Note: I didn’t cry after the rejection because of my loss, I cried for the loss of an opportunity to share the truth. <br />
<br />
I tweeted in panic one day after realizing that in the midst of getting the draft done, Sundance also wanted a 2-page synopsis. That moment nearly pushed me over the edge. Then, <a href="http://twitter.com/jlichtenberg">Jacqueline Lichtenberg</a> wrote a post for me with <a href="http://editingcircle.blogspot.com/search/label/synposis">synopsis advice</a>. You have no idea what that meant. It wasn’t just her great advice; she was the hand reaching out as I felt the undercurrent pull me down. Her generosity saved my life that day. I will be eternally grateful to her.<br />
<br />
Even after we submitted, we sought more feedback. I spent hours on the phone with <a href="http://twitter.com/nevadagrey">Nevada Grey</a> for consultations, Bill Pace sent added notes to work on, and we sent the script to trusted screenwriters to read and rip apart. We continued to rewrite draft after draft, in hopes to knock Sundance off their feet when they requested the full read. It would be a total of six months before I took my first day off.<br />
<br />
In short, we kept raising the bar for ourselves. <br />
<br />
But they passed. Passed without that full read. Ouch. <br />
<br />
Was it that Sundance thought the Pulitzer win and PBS documentary would already give us a leg up over other, newer writers? Perhaps they didn’t feel we really needed them, or the budget would be too big for an indie venture. Or maybe I’m just rationalizing and they simply weren’t interested. In the end, it doesn’t matter. <br />
<br />
The bitchslap stung like hell. <br />
<br />
Once I numbed the pain with tequila last night, I realized I learned an enormous amount from the process. Maybe that was my win.<br />
<br />
*I learned I’m capable of so much more than I ever realized.<br />
*I can write like a fiend under pressure. <br />
*I absolutely LOVE feedback and editing. <br />
*As much as I loathed writing that synopsis, I will now make it a regular part of my story preparation process (1. Outline, 2. Synopsis, 3. First draft). <br />
*I have an entirely different outlook on writing partnerships.<br />
*I will ALWAYS get professional feedback. <br />
*I am blessed to have Doug’s trust and faith. In truth, I still pinch myself that I am writing with a Pulitzer winner as a partner. He is both generous and humble. <br />
*I am a damned good writer.<br />
*My family believes in me.<br />
*There isn’t enough room in a partnership for both an ego and a successful project. The project always comes first.<br />
*Patience. Patience. Patience. <br />
*Stony Brook Southampton Screenwriters Conference kicks ass.<br />
*You can be a determined and great businessperson, but without writing talent, an ability to take honest feedback (even when it’s ugly), and a great support system behind you, it doesn’t mean squat. Everyone talks about having to have a business mind to succeed. Yes, you do, but first and foremost you need to know the craft and write well. Even the best businessperson can't sell a poorly-written script. <br />
*Polish, polish, polish. Do the hard work. <br />
<br />
The Sundance experience also taught me who my real friends are. While most were supportive, some who have known me for years weren't. That saddened me, but I had to learn to not let anyone piss on my flame. I had to keep moving forward. I grieved and moved on. I took delight in my Facebook friends and Twitter writers cheering me on and following our <a href="http://www.twapperkeeper.com/hashtag/slaverybyanothername?sm=1&sd=1&sy=2010&em=12&ed=31&ey=2012&o=a&l=10000">#slaverybyanothername</a> hashtag with curiosity and support. You were there for me, not expecting anything in return other than the joy of riding the wave and learning alongside me. You didn’t try to distract me. You fought to keep me focused. You wanted me to succeed. I wanted to succeed for you. You raised the bar for my standards of real-life friendships. I am deeply grateful for all of you and the lessons you have taught me. <br />
<br />
But, one of the best things that came out of the experience was a voicemail from my mother. Our characters and story moved her to tears. That trumps Redford’s seal of approval any day. My mother has never read any of my scripts before… and she rarely cries. She’s the toughest bird in town.<br />
<br />
I take Sundance’s bitchslap with pleasure. No regrets. No “what ifs”. We tried. We put our baby out there. I’m damn proud of our script and of us. <br />
<br />
However, I will be drinking tequila yet another night to continue the writer’s anesthetic. I’ll also be making voodoo dolls of the 12 winners. I am Sicilian after all. Just sayin’. <br />
<br />
What have you learned from the setbacks in your life? Those goals you thought mattered so much… did they really matter in the end?Jeanne Veillette Bowermanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07693112521911135141noreply@blogger.com44tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6793148740380160789.post-91912258332108453732010-08-02T21:14:00.000-04:002010-08-02T21:14:05.498-04:00A Graveyard Writing Shift<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgba6CSkRPM0XVoiEMIw1LZI095mT9iZxL0vJryPyM7FBPKobq8Oq_C3nZuylHDBHEF0a8PCPAt-vvs-tD8sEcMbpQzez0E1CAIlHl1JjiTFpmj0ITZ-BkphCHR9DERiTBckR4UtNI6wLo/s1600/IMG_1709.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgba6CSkRPM0XVoiEMIw1LZI095mT9iZxL0vJryPyM7FBPKobq8Oq_C3nZuylHDBHEF0a8PCPAt-vvs-tD8sEcMbpQzez0E1CAIlHl1JjiTFpmj0ITZ-BkphCHR9DERiTBckR4UtNI6wLo/s320/IMG_1709.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">Living in rural New York, I often drive the countryside for writing inspiration.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This particular day, I needed to find a way to kill one of my characters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wanted something unique for her death.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Suddenly, my car’s ball joint snapped and twisted the front wheel perpendicular to the car. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The car screeched to a halt, opposite a graveyard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How fitting. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Could my character die in a car wreck?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Too cliché.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">As I waited for the tow truck, a flurry of tornado-warning emails filled my cell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not an alarmist, so I ignored them, until the winds swirled faster and faster.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was a sitting duck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I glanced over at the graveyard wondering if God was trying to kill me… or just send me a message.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Should this tornado come, there was no way I’d survive in the car or fully exposed outside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why didn’t I watch that survivor episode on The Discovery Channel?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Think. Think. Think.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How could I find safety in the middle of nowhere?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The graveyard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I grabbed a rope from my car and ran across, planning to tie myself to a gravestone. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, you read that right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I may be calm under pressure, but I didn’t say I was smart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Whose stone would I choose: a man’s, a woman’s, or a child’s?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who would I want to die with?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">As my hair spun in the wind, I pulled it from my eyes to read the names and dates on the stones.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My imagination ran wild.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I became swept into the stories buried with these people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe he died in a shoot out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps she died in childbirth or at the hands of a jealous lover.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stories were popping in my head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My body was in peril, but the writer inside me was on fire.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Like a lunatic, I lurked gravestones while the threat of the tornado was still buzzing in my pocket.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Is this how Geraldo felt revealing King Tuts tomb?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe someone would find my dead body the next day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">There should be a warning label on notepads: “Writing can be deadly.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The winds whipped, literally smashing me into gravestones as I searched for the one I’d connect to, both emotionally and physically.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, I discovered the old section of the graveyard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The stones were riddled with details.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Such art.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Lix_1Mup8XmwV0u_F54_FtQY2wbZLHXDuwlQy1xZoVROGs4xolY51mHUgCmRiAF7WxIpllnKJGO5BetIuWbrhavUfHgLxWjkZ3m0Ch3iKVXlYoTk3qpm7U-MpiNf2XSphDLdzRACe-E/s1600/IMG_0969.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Lix_1Mup8XmwV0u_F54_FtQY2wbZLHXDuwlQy1xZoVROGs4xolY51mHUgCmRiAF7WxIpllnKJGO5BetIuWbrhavUfHgLxWjkZ3m0Ch3iKVXlYoTk3qpm7U-MpiNf2XSphDLdzRACe-E/s320/IMG_0969.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">As I admired the carvings on the delicate stone, a tree branch snapped and flew past, almost crashing into me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I glanced toward my car to see the large SUV rocking in the heavy winds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Time to stop admiring and start graveyard bondage.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">While the old stones were more to my artistic taste, I couldn’t tie myself to a wuss headstone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I needed a big, gaudy monument.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I ran toward the largest one I could find, the wind forcing me into a zig-zag path.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Just as I found the perfect dead person to join in all eternity, the tow truck pulled alongside my car.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I raced to my hero of wreckage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">As my mechanic secured the car on the flatbed, I snatched my notepad and frantically wrote, “Idea: girl passes up delicate gravestone for a sturdier, safer and massive monument.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ties herself down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Winds howl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Suddenly, the delicate gravestone is yanked from the ground.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She smiles, happy not to have chosen it… until it heads her way, smashes into her, and kills her.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Now that is what I call a unique death.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’ve decided to make graveyards a part of my writing inspiration routine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Next time, however, I’ll choose a lovely sunny day, admire the beautiful ornate stones and see what other stories rise from the dead. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">A graveyard can be the perfect resurrection for creativity. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i>*originally published in Making Me Magazine</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><!--EndFragment-->Jeanne Veillette Bowermanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07693112521911135141noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6793148740380160789.post-7778601675041064912010-08-02T21:03:00.005-04:002010-09-01T12:27:00.395-04:00Memories of the Crandell Theatre<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbvXai3kYiTxfyy2-SjWIn4FXry313BhnMzBEpWlPg1Pkm-C84J4k18tVy2k6ax6LKv5HUex4Vp6gyygqlrPBc2VRL3qLjBnSTPQ8ieykhL-2M3cbs7BAzp9m6ooy0S5NBH7roWiWff2s/s1600/IMG_1028.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbvXai3kYiTxfyy2-SjWIn4FXry313BhnMzBEpWlPg1Pkm-C84J4k18tVy2k6ax6LKv5HUex4Vp6gyygqlrPBc2VRL3qLjBnSTPQ8ieykhL-2M3cbs7BAzp9m6ooy0S5NBH7roWiWff2s/s320/IMG_1028.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #3c0909; font-family: Tahoma;">Palms sweating and heart pounding, I entered the <a href="http://crandelltheatre.com/">Crandell Theatre</a>. I prayed garbage cans were within reach, as I was positive I’d be sick from fear. I was 11 and on my very first date. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #3c0909; font-family: Tahoma;">The Crandell Theatre was built in 1926, as a vaudeville house in a little Upstate, New York country town. Much of my childhood was spent sitting in the balcony watching the red velvet curtain part, to reveal the Marx Brothers, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, and Jaws, amongst others. For years, the price of a film was $1.50 until it slowly rose to $5.00. The best bargain in town.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #3c0909; font-family: Tahoma;">What better place for a first date? <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #3c0909; font-family: Tahoma;">Young Frankenstein, 1974. Yes, I’m revealing my age with that admission, but the thrill of seeing the film alongside my boy crush was indescribable. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #3c0909; font-family: Tahoma;">That night, as I sat frozen in my chair with “him” mere inches away, I never noticed the beautiful architecture of the building. The old lanterns, Spanish-arched designs, stucco walls, 26-foot wide stage and orchestra pit. Little did I know, there were still dressing rooms in the back from the vaudeville days. Perhaps my date knew, but luckily, we were only 11 and not 18. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #3c0909; font-family: Tahoma;">Did he hold my hand? I don’t remember, but I do remember the sexual innuendo between Gene Wilder and the gorgeous Teri Garr horrified me. I was definitely too young to date… and too young for that film. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #3c0909; font-family: Tahoma;">This was to be my first of many dates at the Crandell. Three years later, I went back with the same boy to see Star Wars. This time it was Princess Leia flirting with Han Solo. If only I were that graceful and experienced. Even though I was older, not even a Jedi mind trick could calm my nerves. I was convinced I was in love… though perhaps it was Luke Skywalker I loved, not my date. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #3c0909; font-family: Tahoma;">The years past and my taste in movies and boys did too. I saw everything from The Breakfast Club to the horror flick, Friday the 13<sup>th</sup>. For that, I do remember being clutched to a boy’s arm. Horror films were the perfect rouse for boys to hold my hand. I fell for it, hook, line and sinker.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #3c0909; font-family: Tahoma;">The thrill of the Crandell wasn’t just in the charm of the architecture, it was the family who ran it. I’d come to the counter to buy my R-rated film ticket, terrified the owner would turn me away for being under 17. He would give a stern look, ask if my parents gave permission, I’d nod, then he’d smile and hand me my ticket. No one dared lie to him, because he indeed knew all our parents. Small town living. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #3c0909; font-family: Tahoma;">Time went on, but it never seemed to change the Crandell. It was the town anchor of amusement and beauty. Ten years ago, our community formed <a href="http://www.thechathamfilmclub.com/">The Chatham Film Club</a>, a lovely group of film fanatics who birthed the film festival, <a href="http://www.filmcolumbia.com/">Film Columbia</a>. Our Crandell Theatre was the star. I would buy a pass and sit in my chair, this time with my husband holding my hand. We’d watch foreign films and a variety of independent features. The seats were packed, and we lived on popcorn and Hot Tamales for four days. By this time, the theatre had passed hands to the next generation, and every day of the festival, the owner and his wife were present. Him smiling and greeting the locals, and her at the concession stand passing out Milk Duds. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #3c0909; font-family: Tahoma;">Sadly, the owner, Tony Quirino, unexpectedly passed, and the theatre closed. The Film Club is raising money in hopes of purchasing it to preserve its beauty and charm for future generations, just as the Quirino family did. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm554Z_UN9XM2DYB-IOvdEXO0aVFRY5b48CEqhsDiJTohgvKMV3o8QGw-D4-CAWVCKi8E21W1cc_B5gQgLiSQhh_3M7mP8Ws5qFKZk-1xlgu3tEZ8GxMqdxQnEs7b97kHZkWwsY74YJEc/s1600/IMG_1047.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm554Z_UN9XM2DYB-IOvdEXO0aVFRY5b48CEqhsDiJTohgvKMV3o8QGw-D4-CAWVCKi8E21W1cc_B5gQgLiSQhh_3M7mP8Ws5qFKZk-1xlgu3tEZ8GxMqdxQnEs7b97kHZkWwsY74YJEc/s320/IMG_1047.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #3c0909; font-family: Tahoma;">A part of our town’s charm passed away with Tony that sad day, as the lights went out on the marquise. While we all miss him, we are grateful for the years of joy he and his family brought our lives and the memories forever embedded in our souls. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #3c0909; font-family: Tahoma;">The Crandell was more than a movie house; it was a treasure of celluloid, first loves, hand-holding memories and a magical red velvet curtain. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #3c0909; font-family: Tahoma;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #3c0909; font-family: Tahoma;"><i>*originally published in Making Me Magazine</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #3c0909; font-family: Tahoma;"><i>*update: The Chatham Film Club now owns of the Crandell Theatre. Full story <a href="http://www.filmcolumbia.com/pdfs/Dear_Friends_and_Supporters.pdf">HERE</a></i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;">*NEW URGENT UPDATE* Our theatre desperately needs a new roof. </span></b></span><br />
<span style="color: #3c0909; font-family: Tahoma;"><span style="color: black; font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;"></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #3c0909; font-family: Tahoma;"><span style="color: black; font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b><span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Please help the Crandell Theatre win $25,000 in a community challenge.</span></span></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b><span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;"> </span></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b><span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Just click on this link and vote for the Crandell in the National Trust for Historic Preservation's "This Place Matters" contest. It doesn't cost anything and you can opt out of receiving any further emails from them. Please do this now.<span> </span>You must vote BEFORE SEPTEMBER 15<sup>th.</sup></span></span></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://my.preservationnation.org/site/News2?page=NewsArticle&id=9486&security=2862&s_interest=3224" target="_blank" title="http://my.preservationnation.org/site/News2?page=NewsArticle&id=9486&security=2862&s_interest=3224"><span style="color: purple;">http://my.preservationnation.org/site/News2?page=NewsArticle&id=9486&security=2862&s_interest=3224</span></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">You can only vote once, but please take a few moments to pass this message along to your friends, neighbors, family and co-workers.<span> </span>The Crandell needs your support and a new roof before winter!</span></span></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;"> </span></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Thank you so much for your time.</span></span></span></b></div></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div>Jeanne Veillette Bowermanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07693112521911135141noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6793148740380160789.post-10273705623061318462010-07-19T21:45:00.009-04:002010-07-20T21:04:39.273-04:00Writing as a Martial Art<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDXa7pQ7rTw6K0NM1raVxrxdbzV7DFvCgKxCH7N0VRexzel9tuKM9gspJtB3gj70UeUQqF5vmInLzVwHNGpWD5svI5nOXbfEc86_W97S0_UmOn2l_z-kRwwLvTNv5EKLkfYatFgMtS834/s1600/brucegodflyingkick.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDXa7pQ7rTw6K0NM1raVxrxdbzV7DFvCgKxCH7N0VRexzel9tuKM9gspJtB3gj70UeUQqF5vmInLzVwHNGpWD5svI5nOXbfEc86_W97S0_UmOn2l_z-kRwwLvTNv5EKLkfYatFgMtS834/s320/brucegodflyingkick.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i>“This is a last-laugh business: If you can survive as people are kicking you in the head, eventually their leg will get tired, and they’ll want to start kicking someone else. If you’re still there, and can pull yourself up to your feet, you get the last laugh.” </i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i>Billy Ray, professional screenwriter</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">When I heard the above quote, while watching <a href="http://www.talesfromthescript.com/">TALES FROM THE SCRIPT</a>, I realized how similar writing is to martial arts. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Persistence, determination and belief in oneself are needed to finish any script or novel. Coincidentally, those qualities are also found in a martial artist. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Let’s compare the journeys: </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>1. </b><i><u><b>Training</b></u></i>: </div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>MA</b>: We train by repeating blocks, kicks and punches over and over until sweat drips from our bodies. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Writer</b>: The first draft is never good enough, so we write it over and over, until our brain and fingers throb. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>2. </b><i><u><b>Fighting under pressure</b></u></i><b>: </b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>MA</b>: Once you’ve trained hard enough, the moves become “muscle memory”. When under the pressure of fighting, we need our moves to occur without thought. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Writer</b>: When you’re under a deadline, you need your words to flow effortlessly. That won’t happen if you spend your days procrastinating and not putting words down on paper (side note: the program Write or Die is fantastic at honing your writing-under-pressure skills). </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>3. </b><i><u><b>Being tested by your Master</b></u></i><b>: </b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>MA</b>: The test day for your next belt arrives. If you’ve practiced, your Master will know it and reward you. But if you haven’t, he can see it with one look into your eyes. There’s no way to fake being ready.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Writer</b>: Every time you send out your work, you’re being tested. Are you prepared? Did you do as many drafts necessary to make it your best? Will your work be viewed as amateur or professional? Do you have the stamina to wait for, and then deal with, the feedback? It’s a test. It’s always a test. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>4. </b><i><u><b>Number one rule of fighting is to avoid a fight at all cost</b></u></i><b>: </b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>MA</b>: Never, ever fight if you don’t have to. Only fight if it’s absolutely necessary, and even then, just inflict enough injury to your opponent to give yourself time to get away. Instead of looking for a fight, be aware of your surroundings. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Writer</b>: Every new producer, agent or editor who reads your work is a new fight. But, you can avoid the fight simply by being patient and make your work shine before you ever send it out. If you send it too early, be ready to defend your work and choices. Believe me, the blow from a premature submission can be just as bad as one dealt you by a black belt. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>5. </b><i><u><b>Humility</b></u></i><b>: </b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>MA</b>: being humble in and out of the dojo is a must. Simply put, its what earns you respect from your peers. A Master or comrade might kick the crap out of you in the ring, but at the end of the fight, he’ll always shake your hand and bow. It’s an honor to be in the ring with a warrior. Take your lickings and learn from them. It’ll make you better, in and out of the ring. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Writer</b>: No one wants to hear a writer say how great her work is. The work should speak for itself. When you sit across the table from a producer or agent who has just ripped your work to shreds, be gracious and reach across the divide, shake their hand and thank them for their time and thoughts. It is an honor to have gotten the chance to be in the ring with a professional. Their criticism isn’t a personal attack; it’s a gift of perspective. Feedback is THE most valuable asset a writer has. Don’t run from it; embrace it. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The seven years I trained before becoming a black belt, my master always said, “It is the journey that matters, not the belt color.” As writers, we’re so focused on becoming published or getting produced that we forget to enjoy the journey. Every piece of work we put to paper is a chance to learn, grow and challenge ourselves, not just the ones that reach celluloid or book shelves. Appreciate those early, horrible pieces of writing that will never see the light of day… and thank the heavens they won’t! They taught you. You cut your teeth on them. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Above all, don’t give up. As writers, we need to be prepared to pull our half-broken and bleeding bodies off the floor and have the last laugh. I know I intent to.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">What have you learned from your other passions in life that have brought your writing to a different level? </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div>Jeanne Veillette Bowermanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07693112521911135141noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6793148740380160789.post-88658292566646146852010-06-09T10:02:00.003-04:002010-06-09T10:41:14.632-04:00what if...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd9rjTuJjtIObDvA8FFsiUXiwLPCmgUxTaROoyh1-1ejvlv9_XAzSS8AG94Aj91-OZ6OHh1GoxjhLvdyiSW33dWgSulv8zuD8_21eEy7_wPR6L7wbxm3HkdBBX5Ioo_D_6zARwuYzQcDo/s1600/scream-painting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd9rjTuJjtIObDvA8FFsiUXiwLPCmgUxTaROoyh1-1ejvlv9_XAzSS8AG94Aj91-OZ6OHh1GoxjhLvdyiSW33dWgSulv8zuD8_21eEy7_wPR6L7wbxm3HkdBBX5Ioo_D_6zARwuYzQcDo/s320/scream-painting.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">After posting <a href="http://jeanneveillettebowerman.blogspot.com/2009/12/kicking-fears-ass.html">Kicking Fear’s Ass</a>, many people have approached me, fascinated I gave up fear for Lent. They want answers. How can I be fearless too? Are you ever terrified? What do you do when you can’t imagine facing your fear? <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">I may have faced fear head on, but I still have moments of terror. Everyone does. We’re afraid for our children’s safety and health. We’re afraid we won’t get a job or do well at the job we have. We’re afraid we can’t pay our mortgage. We’re afraid world peace will never come. We’re afraid of growing old. You name it, we’re afraid of it. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">At this point in my life, there’s only one fear that drives me: I'm afraid I'll arrive at my deathbed and utter the words, “What if…?” What if I had worked harder? What if I had pitched that script to one more producer? What if I had taken that writing bootcamp? What if I had spent more time with my kids? What if I admitted I wanted to change my life years ago? What if…? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">Missing out on living my life to the fullest scares me far more than failure or rejection. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">“What if?” We all need to be reminded of what the greatest dangers truly are in life... not living it. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11pt;">What are you afraid of? What will you do to face that fear? <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;">*<i>this post is dedicated to Alie Flierl <a href="http://twitter.com/2degreesofalie">@2degreesofalie</a></i>* </span></span></div>Jeanne Veillette Bowermanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07693112521911135141noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6793148740380160789.post-34104130803643750352010-05-08T15:12:00.005-04:002010-05-10T13:10:22.995-04:00a disease diagnosed... an author born<div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLQZA_sG7uMVjOVB9_bLLI8U9VcikU2euQCF-kfo8bxHs8qQC7XjTDP6Yfo5Sgv4bYiIGk4PuwJ3DLAvgGm3W0GdKp6dP7ac1h6BtUqNt-c6pSfD7vs6uCBRARJkfaKmvPW9aDxcsi6P4/s1600/Grace+Blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLQZA_sG7uMVjOVB9_bLLI8U9VcikU2euQCF-kfo8bxHs8qQC7XjTDP6Yfo5Sgv4bYiIGk4PuwJ3DLAvgGm3W0GdKp6dP7ac1h6BtUqNt-c6pSfD7vs6uCBRARJkfaKmvPW9aDxcsi6P4/s320/Grace+Blog.jpg" width="316" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Arial;">November 22, 2008 is the day my life changed forever. Only months ago, I was an innocent 10-year-old running around carefree. Then Crohn’s disease forced me to become a prisoner in my house. I wouldn’t dare try to walk in fear that my stomach would explode. Lying down on the couch, watching old reruns of “Full House,” I dreamed of a book with a child’s perspective of Crohn’s with the hope of finding a cure. Google was the only option to search for my dream book, but all I found were medical versions only adults could understand. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">As time progressed, and tons of medicine ingested, my life began to return to normal… almost. Even though I was feeling better, I always felt a pang of guilt, running around playing soccer when I knew other children were still very sick. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Flashbacks of my dream of a children’s Crohn’s book pushed me to think if nobody else had the “guts” to write one, why couldn’t I?? For two months my fingers were sore from typing my special story about a girl who has Crohn’s disease, and through her determination, she finds a cure. Madison popcorn, snickers, and cashews were finally reunited!! <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I believe, children with this serious illness will finally have something to look up to and something uplifting to read while they are feeling down. Being 12 doesn’t mean that I can’t follow my dream.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">~Grace Wilgucki <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Our brave niece, Grace, is participating in the 2010 <a href="http://online.ccfa.org/site/TR/Walk/Chapter-NewJersey?px=1550085&pg=personal&fr_id=1777">Take Steps for Crohn’s and Colitis Walkathon</a>. Please <b><a href="http://online.ccfa.org/site/TR/Walk/Chapter-NewJersey?px=1550085&pg=personal&fr_id=1777">CLICK HERE</a></b> to help her reach her $500 goal and help the effort in finding a cure.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">If any children’s book publishers or agents are lurking out there, please contact me if you’d like to read Grace’s wonderful book. Email: <a href="mailto:jeannevb2@gmail.com">jeannevb2@gmail.com</a> <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>Jeanne Veillette Bowermanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07693112521911135141noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6793148740380160789.post-76610720923595781212010-04-04T14:57:00.002-04:002010-08-03T13:08:39.024-04:00Love the Invisible<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-C8EAAFGL4GxvVBVzh3lJn05c4B7f4mp37hfztDK_A55BJWsqGAuaejqkkx96Oa32DTRHAao2HUMmMXnYTDdq-LTPCmueAjQeMlzVY6rAYNghc6-g557ywNUn6qnGJRZN4UHillPPVIk/s1600/homeless6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-C8EAAFGL4GxvVBVzh3lJn05c4B7f4mp37hfztDK_A55BJWsqGAuaejqkkx96Oa32DTRHAao2HUMmMXnYTDdq-LTPCmueAjQeMlzVY6rAYNghc6-g557ywNUn6qnGJRZN4UHillPPVIk/s320/homeless6.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: 'Lucida Grande';">How often do you reach out to another human?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: 'Lucida Grande';">On Good Friday, I was at Penn Station. A homeless man politely approached me and asked for money. His pitch was eloquent, heartfelt, and with wonderful eye contact. I was marveled by his intelligence. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: 'Lucida Grande';">Liquor seeped from his breath, and a cane supported his frail body, but I couldn’t help but wonder what his story was. If he were a character in my script or novel, what would I learn from him? What would his arc be? But this man wasn’t fiction. He was real, and he indeed needed help. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: 'Lucida Grande';">Instead of handing him a ten dollar bill that would have most certainly been spent on more moonshine, I offered, "Let me buy you lunch." I wanted to take him into the restaurant so he could choose what most appealed to him, but he explained the homeless weren't allowed. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: 'Lucida Grande';">As I stood on line waiting for food, I glanced back at him, propped against the wall. People were passing by, as if he didn’t exist. He was invisible. Totally invisible. My heart broke. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: 'Lucida Grande';">With a bag of warm nourishment, I returned and held out his hot lunch. As he reached for it, I looked him in the eyes and said, "I love you." He was astonished. A tear rolled down his cheek, "I don't remember the last time someone said that to me.” I simply repeated, “I love you.” A sweet smile rose across his parched lips as he declared, “I love you too." <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: 'Lucida Grande';">I smiled and walked away, never to see him again. But for that one day, that one moment, I hope he felt loved. Those three words were more nourishing to him than any amount of food. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: 'Lucida Grande';">Try spreading love and see what joy comes back to you. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Jeanne Veillette Bowermanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07693112521911135141noreply@blogger.com33tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6793148740380160789.post-73738335357956726922010-02-26T21:36:00.011-05:002010-03-06T11:06:12.340-05:00Write or Die<div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Today, I officially became a freelance writer, and I owe it to insanity. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">I was too insane to quit.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I was a hustler by day. Sales. Straight commission. Even though I enjoyed my job, the economy was not conducive to selling anything. While I wasn't making enough money, I was still afraid to leave the job for the unpredictable world of freelance. I also recognized I’d never make it as a writer until I knew more about the industry.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">So there I was, working the day job and writing whenever I could squeeze in some time. Sometimes, the lines blurred. Last spring, I was at a convention answering questions from potential customers as they passed by our booth. I gazed at them as they strolled by, wondering who they were, what their wounds were, what kind of character they’d make in a story. My mind was on anything but my “job.” <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Then, the “ah-ha” moment hit.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">A woman approached, picked up our brochure and asked about our company. I jumped into my sales pitch, “blah, blah, blahing” her the spin. During our chat, I asked, “what is it you do now?” She answers, “Oh, I’m a writer.” My heart sank. I wanted to yell, “<i>I’m a writer too!</i>” But I couldn’t. I stuffed it down and presented her with my card of my false life. She was a writer. I was a salesperson. I vomited in my mouth. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The next week, I met my writing partner for breakfast. He noticed my distraction. I shared my frustration of living a dual life. Would I ever be free? He reached across the table, looked straight into my teary eyes, “Jeanne, I am your biggest believer. You <i>are</i> a writer.” You’d think, coming from a Pulitzer Prize winner, I would believe him. I wanted to believe him. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I kept working the job, writing blog posts and connecting with writers. I soaked up information anywhere I could find it. I simply wouldn’t give up. I was readying myself for the opportunity. When that opportunity finally arrived, it was in the form of Jane Friedman, publisher of Writer’s Digest.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I met Jane on Twitter and pimped out her links and those of her colleagues. She knew my day job was based in Cincinnati, so when Writer’s Digest had its 90<sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup> Anniversary Party, she invited me. I used my last airmile to get there.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">It was a dream come true. I had found nirvana in that crowded bar full of hippy writers. I was the real me. I was smiling so brightly, my face hurt. Jane opened her arms, literally and figuratively and changed my life. While drinking and chatting about Twitter, she nonchalantly said, “You should write an article for us on the value of Twitter.” She was dead serious. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Before my plane took off, I started writing. I submitted a classic, conservative article along with a how-to list to tweeting. Jane sweetly replied the article was “solid,” but she wanted a personal essay of my journey through Twitterverse in my own unique voice. I rolled up my velour sleeves and gave her the pure, raw Twitter Pimp Angel that is Jeanne.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Today, I got an email from Writer’s Digest, making an offer to acquire my submission. Within two hours, I had the contract signed, scanned and back. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I still don’t know how I did it through the tears. Yes, tears. I was bawling. I’m still crying. I wish I had the words to describe the validation coursing through me. It’s more than validation; it’s relief. All the tension, anxiety, fear, and insanity that is being a writer is pouring out my eyes as the words fly out my fingertips. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The irony is the editor probably has finalized offers with hundreds, maybe thousands of writers. Today was just one more writer providing the article to fill the empty slot. But for me, it was a day I will remember forever. A gift. A blessing. A moment of hope. I <i>am</i> a writer. I <i>am</i> free. <i>Free</i>lance. Damn. I did it! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">What Jane didn’t know was just hours before I walked into that party, I quit my day job. It was time. Write or die. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">I pray I never forget this feeling or ever take it for granted.</span><br />
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</span></div>Jeanne Veillette Bowermanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07693112521911135141noreply@blogger.com34tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6793148740380160789.post-28707987461565431922010-02-18T10:57:00.005-05:002010-02-18T19:43:15.053-05:00The Honest Scrap Award<div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw6GFyXKnZZhtETL_Mwf54BylPWGyt9jqXu1o4viLKTlnKwNlbyuzBSPv46ccCYJA1NddWwMiuNgGYZ5TBBhjy0YV6rUHEi6lA40ZcLdF6IDbv3T5Wz5FPxUBlhNrSILKzV01kbiSaMrw/s1600-h/Honest+Scrap+Award.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw6GFyXKnZZhtETL_Mwf54BylPWGyt9jqXu1o4viLKTlnKwNlbyuzBSPv46ccCYJA1NddWwMiuNgGYZ5TBBhjy0YV6rUHEi6lA40ZcLdF6IDbv3T5Wz5FPxUBlhNrSILKzV01kbiSaMrw/s200/Honest+Scrap+Award.png" width="147" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Arial;">I click a link and BAM – I discover I have been awarded the Honest Scrap Award by Brittany Landgrebe aka <a href="http://www.twitter.com/lights_aurora"><b>@lights_aurora</b></a>. I look closer. This must be a mistake. Perhaps it reads “Honest Crap Award”… yeah, that would be more like it.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I have no idea what this award means, but it comes with rules. I knew there was a catch. Why couldn’t it come with <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q5im0Ssyyus">unicorns</a>, candy and sparklers? I read closer. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The rules? Simple. Reveal ten things you likely don’t know about me, then pass the award on to someone else I admire. They shall do the same, and it’s just a whole big pile of Honest Scrap! </span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">She admires me! She admires me! I felt like Rudolph.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Once the happy dust settled, the rules sunk in. I’m to unleash 10 sins to cyberspace and do the work for TMZ. Afraid? Hell, no. I’m very competitive, therefore the thought of beating a reporter hiding in my shrubs and sifting through my garbage for an award-winning expose of my life has my sin-riddled skin tingling. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://rds.yahoo.com/_ylt=A0WTefgRWn1LRXkAgyGJzbkF;_ylu=X3oDMTBpdnJhMHUzBHBvcwMxBHNlYwNzcgR2dGlkAw--/SIG=1heicuj66/EXP=1266592657/**http%3a//images.search.yahoo.com/images/view%3fback=http%253A%252F%252Fimages.search.yahoo.com%252Fsearch%252Fimages%253Fp%253Dwalter%252Bcronkite%2526ei%253DUTF-8%2526fr%253Dyfp-t-701%26w=420%26h=504%26imgurl=www.meteoweb.it%252Fimages%252Fcronkite.jpg%26rurl=http%253A%252F%252Fpeppecaridi2.wordpress.com%252F2009%252F07%252F18%252Fe-morto-walter-cronkite-leggenda-del-giornalismo-usa%26size=27k%26name=cronkite%2bjpg%26p=walter%2bcronkite%26oid=d867bea581de449a%26fr2=%26no=1%26tt=26201%26sigr=131mke9j3%26sigi=113i9kqfi%26sigb=12k2sod3h" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Go to fullsize image" height="145" src="http://thm-a01.yimg.com/nimage/d867bea581de449a" title="http://peppecaridi2.wordpress.com/2009/07/18/e-morto-walter-cronkite-leggenda-del-giornalismo-usa" width="120" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial;">I need to channel a reporter to get into character. But who… or is it whom? If I were Walter Cronkite, I’d know the answer. He was my fraternity brother (see #7 below). I even shook his hand while wearing a very ugly 1980s puffy dress. I was in the dress, not Walter. Just wanted to clarify, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">since I’m a top-notch reporter and all. </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Does that count as one of the ten? Nah, I’ll give you that one for free.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFHpB4lwqSklxiLB_IJTsJtHckH7vm-VgcjlsjYYimIdFEqUXBhNk2s-2Im6Qak2ArctbBKRBuG1J5Ep87eeEWx7UBzpmt4L5vtv7hihNATNYIKA44l478S1cd6ZdHra5TfX1m-REqx0M/s1600-h/Lady.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFHpB4lwqSklxiLB_IJTsJtHckH7vm-VgcjlsjYYimIdFEqUXBhNk2s-2Im6Qak2ArctbBKRBuG1J5Ep87eeEWx7UBzpmt4L5vtv7hihNATNYIKA44l478S1cd6ZdHra5TfX1m-REqx0M/s200/Lady.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">1. <b>Jackasses make me laugh</b>. In the 60s, my parents decided to move to the country in pursuit of a simpler life. Intellectual father. Hippy mother. They found an old run-down farmhouse on 150 acres where the animals roamed free… inside <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">and</i> out. Flies. Oh man, were there flies. The sale came with a horse and a jackass. I always giggled when my daddy said, “jackass” *giggle*. I was four when a scary man came and took them away. They either became my school glue or my dog’s dinner. I hate the smell of both. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj70tWSyePyKr6d0sfAIhV4SXsifejz9gfXPVWAZwpIPS8Evwd-hOt1o8cHDtmodMZPJw6AEw5Rsi5eLtozH2n4eSO6bBdkvzXW_ca95NxY-_rCDyNC6D6mK0XEAaXKoGEhQd1YOl2820Q/s1600-h/_Device_Memory_home_user_pictures_IMG00335.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj70tWSyePyKr6d0sfAIhV4SXsifejz9gfXPVWAZwpIPS8Evwd-hOt1o8cHDtmodMZPJw6AEw5Rsi5eLtozH2n4eSO6bBdkvzXW_ca95NxY-_rCDyNC6D6mK0XEAaXKoGEhQd1YOl2820Q/s200/_Device_Memory_home_user_pictures_IMG00335.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial;">2. <b>I </b><b>didn’t like to play with the girls in kindergarten.</b><b> </b> I wanted to play with the boy toys… oops, I mean boyS' toys. My kindergarten teacher didn’t know what to do with me, since all the other girls were fighting over the only cute doll. At first, she tried to conform me into a proper girl, but I always ended up on the sidelines starring at the boy’s fascinating toys that made noises and turned into buildings and magical structures. These girls bored me. One day, the teacher knelt by me, took my hand and said, “Go ahead. Show me what you can do.” She unleashed my creativity in that single moment. I ran straight to the Legos and found a quiet, shy boy who became my best friend. I remember building a duck with wheels for feet. I still have some clay ducks we made together. I guess we liked ducks. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://rds.yahoo.com/_ylt=A0WTb_woXH1LtBgAMpiJzbkF;_ylu=X3oDMTBpY2Y5NXNiBHBvcwM2BHNlYwNzcgR2dGlkAw--/SIG=1ho34jvvm/EXP=1266593192/**http%3a//images.search.yahoo.com/images/view%3fback=http%253A%252F%252Fimages.search.yahoo.com%252Fsearch%252Fimages%253Fp%253Dbroken%252Bheart%2526ei%253Dutf-8%2526y%253DSearch%2526fr%253Dyfp-t-701%26w=300%26h=300%26imgurl=farm1.static.flickr.com%252F205%252F521384232_573aa241bb.jpg%26rurl=http%253A%252F%252Fwww.flickr.com%252Fphotos%252F8279769%2540N04%252F521384232%252F%26size=34k%26name=Broken%2bheart%26p=broken%2bheart%26oid=13d41f4bfba0dac4%26fr2=%26fusr=teamdrifters...%26no=6%26tt=210853%26sigr=11jtlce5q%26sigi=11kc8bcgr%26sigb=12quja796" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Go to fullsize image" height="130" src="http://thm-a02.yimg.com/nimage/13d41f4bfba0dac4" title="http://www.flickr.com/photos/8279769@N04/521384232/" width="130" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial;">3. <b> </b><b>I have always been unlucky in love</b>. My Lego duck buddy came to class with cupcakes. I was confused. I knew it wasn’t his birthday, but was convinced he did it just for me. He knew the way to my heart. He liked ducks, after all. As I joyously gobbled my chocolately goodness, he sadly announced he was moving away. My heart was pounding so hard I thought I’d throw up… but I never let chocolate out once it was in. I held back tears all day. As we lay on the mats for our daily nap, I let the tears fall. He crawled closer to me and held my hand. I squeezed his back. When it was time to say goodbye, he leaned in and ga<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">ve me a kiss. My first kiss. Then he ran out the door and never looked back. I don’t remember his name... but he loved me. I didn’t play with Legos the rest of the school year. I tried to conform… because playing with the boys hurt too much.</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://rds.yahoo.com/_ylt=A0WTb_oWXX1Lg0UAZlaJzbkF;_ylu=X3oDMTBpc2VvdmQ2BHBvcwM3BHNlYwNzcgR2dGlkAw--/SIG=1hmv0cu0t/EXP=1266593430/**http%3a//images.search.yahoo.com/images/view%3fback=http%253A%252F%252Fimages.search.yahoo.com%252Fsearch%252Fimages%253Fp%253Dcute%252Bbabies%2526sado%253D1%2526ei%253Dutf-8%2526fr%253Dyfp-t-701%2526fr2%253Dsg-gac%26w=499%26h=751%26imgurl=desicolours.com%252Fwp-content%252Fuploads%252F2008%252F04%252Fbabydc07.jpg%26rurl=http%253A%252F%252Fwww.desicolours.com%252Fcute-babies%252F29%252F04%26size=52k%26name=babydc07%2bjpg%26p=cute%2bbabies%26oid=dc30ebb2423d2516%26fr2=sg-gac%26no=7%26tt=252463%26sigr=11c0o7g1a%26sigi=11n3ktqb4%26sigb=1326f6nnm" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Go to fullsize image" height="150" src="http://thm-a03.yimg.com/nimage/dc30ebb2423d2516" title="http://www.desicolours.com/cute-babies/29/04" width="99" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial;">4. <b>I was obsessed with babies</b>. I cut baby pictures out of magazines and hid them in my room. The Vietnam War was always on the news. I’d watch people bringing home Vietnamese babies, praying my parents would adopt one for me. Being the youngest of four, I wanted a little sister. I cried when the war ended, and no one understood why.<o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"></span></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://rds.yahoo.com/_ylt=A0WTb_lUXX1LcWsA1tiJzbkF;_ylu=X3oDMTBpaWhqZmNtBHBvcwMzBHNlYwNzcgR2dGlkAw--/SIG=1grs41jo9/EXP=1266593492/**http%3a//images.search.yahoo.com/images/view%3fback=http%253A%252F%252Fimages.search.yahoo.com%252Fsearch%252Fimages%253Fp%253Dkitten%2526ei%253Dutf-8%2526y%253DSearch%2526fr%253Dyfp-t-701%26w=400%26h=500%26imgurl=farm3.static.flickr.com%252F2004%252F2473548737_ec717ae6c6.jpg%26rurl=http%253A%252F%252Fwww.flickr.com%252Fphotos%252Fartolog%252F2473548737%252F%26size=149k%26name=kitten%26p=kitten%26oid=e16b1face60df094%26fr2=%26fusr=artolog%26lic=2%26no=3%26tt=4570765%26sigr=11gpnd84p%26sigi=11mtd2bom%26sigb=12kailepm" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Go to fullsize image" height="145" src="http://thm-a03.yimg.com/nimage/e16b1face60df094" title="http://www.flickr.com/photos/artolog/2473548737/" width="116" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">5. <b>I am a murderer.</b> Back on the farm, we replaced all the farm animals with forty-five cats. Yes, you read that right. The previous owners would let their pigs in the house, but we changed that rule. Our cats were never allowed inside unless one was about to give birth. Grumph gave birth a lot. She was a kitty slut. I used to curl up with my kitten on the couch and fall asleep. When I woke from my deep child-like slumber, I found her lifeless, fuzzy body and panicked. I squashed her. I ran to the fire and laid her on the warm hearth, hoping to bring her back to life. I don’t remember anything other than being alone in the living room with the dead kitten and feeling empty. I think I left her there and ran upstairs. I wonder what my parents thought when they found her. They might have thought I <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">was the next Ted Bundy. Yikes. I should really ask.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"></span></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I need a part two to #5 because now I’m depressed. Let me share a really cool kitty story: my siblings’ kittens were always healthy, but my kitties often fell victim to amputation. No, I didn’t amputate them. I just had bad kitty luck, remember? I will never forget picking my injured kitten up from the vet only to be terrified to hold the now "broken" kitten. The vet heartlessly shoved the kitten into my 6-year-old arms, with still-bleeding stump, and told me I was selfish for not loving her. He was a mean prick. I had no idea how to handle a three-legged cat. I ignored her for weeks. She hobbled around the house crying for me. I hated her. I missed what she was before… perfect. Then one day, I was playing with my matchbox cars on the square-patterned rug, and she came bouncing over. Without even thinking, I swept her up in my arms and kissed her. A moment passed and I froze, holding this imperfect cat that I had hated. An enormous smile swept my face, and I went running out of the room, kitty clutched into my chest, yelling, “Mommy, mommy… I DO love her!” That kitten taught me great lessons in loving the imperfect. I don’t remember her name… but she loved me and I loved her.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><a href="http://rds.yahoo.com/_ylt=A0WTb_nKXX1LCG0A8.mJzbkF;_ylu=X3oDMTBqMjRpazg1BHBvcwMxMARzZWMDc3IEdnRpZAM-/SIG=1j75kovvp/EXP=1266593610/**http%3a//images.search.yahoo.com/images/view%3fback=http%253A%252F%252Fimages.search.yahoo.com%252Fsearch%252Fimages%253Fp%253Dpile%252Bof%252Bblue%252Bjeans%2526ei%253Dutf-8%2526y%253DSearch%2526fr%253Dyfp-t-701%26w=350%26h=300%26imgurl=greenbydesign.com%252Fwp-content%252Fuploads%252F2009%252F02%252Fbluejean-pile.jpg%26rurl=http%253A%252F%252Fgreenbydesign.com%252F2009%252F02%252F06%252Fkeeping-the-out-cold-withblue-jeans%26size=36k%26name=Blue%2bjean%2bready%2b...%26p=pile%2bof%2bblue%2bjeans%26oid=b55047e3affe00e2%26fr2=%26no=10%26tt=88%26sigr=127tkijp7%26sigi=11u42opg7%26sigb=1307cn7hk" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Go to fullsize image" height="115" src="http://thm-a02.yimg.com/nimage/b55047e3affe00e2" title="http://greenbydesign.com/2009/02/06/keeping-the-out-cold-withblue-jeans" width="135" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial;">6. <b>We never bought new clothes as kids.</b> Our “shopping sprees” were always at Salvation Army – $1 for a paper bag of clothes. Sure, my dad had a great job, but my mom was a hippy and a Depression-Era kid. I think she felt guilty buying new things. Once, she drove in the yard in her hippy van, jumped out, and yelled for us. She whipped open the back doors like The Price is Right curtain, revealing hundreds of jeans! Fat jeans, skinny jeans, straight jeans, and bell-bottoms. She paid $100 for the van load. We were set for life. I made purses, stuffed animals and my own bell-bottoms with flowered-patterned triangles. Man, my mom was cool. She picked up hitchhikers too.<o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"></span></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://rds.yahoo.com/_ylt=A0WTb_kyXn1Lwm8AKOGJzbkF;_ylu=X3oDMTBqdGFzdWxiBHBvcwMxNQRzZWMDc3IEdnRpZAM-/SIG=1gaiuov8a/EXP=1266593714/**http%3a//images.search.yahoo.com/images/view%3fback=http%253A%252F%252Fimages.search.yahoo.com%252Fsearch%252Fimages%253Fp%253Dsorority%2526ei%253Dutf-8%2526y%253DSearch%2526fr%253Dyfp-t-701%26w=600%26h=499%26imgurl=home.comcast.net%252F%257EIrishEd%252Fachs%252Fsorority.jpg%26rurl=http%253A%252F%252Fhome.comcast.net%252F%257EIrishEd%252Fachs%252Fmsg7.htm%26size=46k%26name=sorority%2bjpg%26p=sorority%26oid=3fbcb3e8cb131460%26fr2=%26no=15%26tt=257507%26sigr=11eroce9o%26sigi=11bh63e9j%26sigb=12mbhii8k" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Go to fullsize image" height="120" src="http://thm-a03.yimg.com/nimage/3fbcb3e8cb131460" title="http://home.comcast.net/~IrishEd/achs/msg7.htm" width="145" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial;">7. <b>I never joined a sorority</b>. I went through the whole rushing process. Even got a bid to the most popular sorority on campus. But when it came time to accept, I felt like that little girl in kindergarten. I just didn’t get it. I didn’t want to fight over the pretty doll. I became a little <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">sister in a fraternity instead. </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC44-daydCC7Nccvn4LvZM8PL2yYvZrUFA_ul6CoqKvhdLwjWLX1aEEdhP7K6EF1DFvvdYsavGkWKI7pGpFV1Qte29-HVPH3U6qFVfkjZ4typPespKkWTRT1lX0RsXgr2U6NHsBrGPheQ/s1600-h/_Device_Memory_home_user_pictures_IMG00202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC44-daydCC7Nccvn4LvZM8PL2yYvZrUFA_ul6CoqKvhdLwjWLX1aEEdhP7K6EF1DFvvdYsavGkWKI7pGpFV1Qte29-HVPH3U6qFVfkjZ4typPespKkWTRT1lX0RsXgr2U6NHsBrGPheQ/s200/_Device_Memory_home_user_pictures_IMG00202.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">8. <b>I can bring home the bacon, fry it up in a pan and even fix the broken shelves.</b> I was 29 when I got married and managed a motel and restaurant. I had all the girlie things I needed at that age, but I didn’t have tools. For my wedding shower, I registered at True Value Hardware Store. There was even a picture of me in the national True Value newsletter. Before you assume I’m a complete tomboy, you should know I’m also a gourmet cook. I would have dinner parties with five-course meals. I once broke up with a guy because he wouldn’t eat Coquille St. Jacques. I’m sorry, but if you were too scared to taste a scallop, you’d be boring as hell to live with.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://rds.yahoo.com/_ylt=A0WTb_inXn1L.VoAvDmJzbkF;_ylu=X3oDMTBqM3IzZ25kBHBvcwMzMgRzZWMDc3IEdnRpZAM-/SIG=1jn87n6dt/EXP=1266593831/**http%3a//images.search.yahoo.com/images/view%3fback=http%253A%252F%252Fimages.search.yahoo.com%252Fsearch%252Fimages%253Fp%253Dpregnant%252Bmonkey%2526b%253D21%2526ni%253D20%2526ei%253Dutf-8%2526y%253DSearch%2526xargs%253D0%2526pstart%253D1%2526fr%253Dyfp-t-701%26w=400%26h=350%26imgurl=i282.photobucket.com%252Falbums%252Fkk271%252Fmoozxy%252Fpregnantmonkey.jpg%26rurl=http%253A%252F%252Fgbatemp.net%252Findex.php%253Fshowtopic%253D93009%26size=13k%26name=pregnantmonkey%2bj...%26p=pregnant%2bmonkey%26oid=f49121401235b65a%26fr2=%26no=32%26tt=486%26b=21%26ni=20%26sigr=11c419jkh%26sigi=11rs8gf6b%26sigb=13p6422s5" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Go to fullsize image" height="118" src="http://thm-a04.yimg.com/nimage/f49121401235b65a" title="http://gbatemp.net/index.php?showtopic=93009" width="135" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial;">9. <b>I gave birth like a monkey.</b> When I was pregnant with my first child, I was a tad nervous about this whole birth thing. I’m gonna push this kid out of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">there</i>? Really!? Yikes. As my belly grew, I searched for any answers I could find on how to make this hurt less. I flipped to the Discovery Channel and found a show with two monkeys giving birth – one via cesarean and one natural. Excellent. All the research I needed. The mama monkey who had the natural birth was amazing. No humans helped her. She delivered her baby all by herself in her little cage. That monkey never made a peep. Not one little groan, moan or complaint. I <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">was going to be that monkey. And I was. Three days of labor, and not a peep out of me. I quietly pushed my baby girl out without even an aspirin. </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW778E4vS9qEB8H4qP6JBATYtj_DN6bhxkjYRlh8u6Nkt3A_RiQKxJ9bKP3GDFCFjVJGRWY-7BsidQSci5RJa9nzasYUa9YGI4v2XTqagZmIPMawTf2v0cqn2snpo7oFRJDjZaeiDS-lU/s1600-h/trumpfox.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW778E4vS9qEB8H4qP6JBATYtj_DN6bhxkjYRlh8u6Nkt3A_RiQKxJ9bKP3GDFCFjVJGRWY-7BsidQSci5RJa9nzasYUa9YGI4v2XTqagZmIPMawTf2v0cqn2snpo7oFRJDjZaeiDS-lU/s200/trumpfox.jpg" width="155" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Arial;">10. <b>I got fired only once in my life.</b><b> </b> After both my kids were in school full time, I decided I needed a new career. A friend convinced me to try medical transcriptioning. Being a competitive freak and all, I was top in my class. I started working for a hospital in Massachusetts, getting all my files online. Every few days, this one doctor would dictate with the most pompous voice, and he’d make up big words that didn’t exist. Now, I went to Cornell. I’m no moron, but I am a perfectionist and stickler for detail. At first, I’d give him the benefit of the doubt and search for the words, but when I was finally satisfied they didn’t exist, I’d flag the report. After several weeks, my boss told me I was pissing off Dr. Pompous. In fact, the doctor’s words were, “Who does this glorified secretary think she is?” I may have given birth like a monkey, but I wasn’t going to put my name to a report dictated by one. He fired me. I wish I could find him and thank him. He was the person who finally gave me the confidence to write. </span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There you have it. Ten things about me you probably didn’t know. Is your life better for knowing them? I’m sure not. But at least I beat TMZ to it. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioxvLj1VNV5BWzAC_d9ha5iwiUkyrE91UC53En7lQxFak4oMFnlUgpytxfmkLJF2uz0WrxoM1JaUel4-JxPumts5MvjHMhV0OlvQdRKhXgcyfeScsekeDwmzasIh3qaWrpk5-I28NCisE/s1600-h/me2_bigger.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioxvLj1VNV5BWzAC_d9ha5iwiUkyrE91UC53En7lQxFak4oMFnlUgpytxfmkLJF2uz0WrxoM1JaUel4-JxPumts5MvjHMhV0OlvQdRKhXgcyfeScsekeDwmzasIh3qaWrpk5-I28NCisE/s320/me2_bigger.jpg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I now pass the Honest Scrap Award onto a person who I admire but don’t know enough about. This was very difficult to choose. There are many I admire, but today, I am choosing <a href="http://www.twitter.com/slushpilehero"><b>@slushpilehero</b></a>. Oh my God, I don’t even know her real name! Actually, I don’t know the name of my dead kitten or the boy who gave me my first kiss. This is perfect. </span></div>Jeanne Veillette Bowermanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07693112521911135141noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6793148740380160789.post-54204826939086689692010-02-10T22:20:00.008-05:002010-02-12T12:33:22.561-05:00save Karen... I beg you<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeYZXKm3-VSdyP8tRUTiB9VeGjAY0ct9D_xxRhzESdDclPNeHQWHQH96CV8d_tID1pavJB6FdES2GDjiF7onMdI6RlP9A-roQfVeRFxa_mNiCSEsWi-BgYtfRAt9lEzeCFORqMUliK2yQ/s1600-h/karen5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeYZXKm3-VSdyP8tRUTiB9VeGjAY0ct9D_xxRhzESdDclPNeHQWHQH96CV8d_tID1pavJB6FdES2GDjiF7onMdI6RlP9A-roQfVeRFxa_mNiCSEsWi-BgYtfRAt9lEzeCFORqMUliK2yQ/s200/karen5.jpg" width="147" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">When I started blogging, I made myself a simple promise to post every two weeks. Doable, right? Wrong. Real life gets in the way. Specifically, the current script we’re writing. Oh, I’ve thought of at least half a dozen topics, but I can’t afford to miss this deadline. Completed script or blog post? The tipping scales have spoken. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">While lamenting my blog constipation to <a href="http://www.twitter.com/karenquah"><b>Karen Quah</b></a>, <b><a href="http://www.twitter.com/pennyash">Penny Ash</a></b> and <b><a href="http://www.twitter.com/purelycarrie">Carrie Brozovic</a></b> tonight, we came up with a super-silly-crazy-nutty-psycho idea: a blog to create a new bio for Karen.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Why does Karen need a new bio? Because hers sucks. Specifically, it just says “<i>writer</i>.” That’s it. Writer. Man, I could have written that. What Karen needs is a bio defining her true glorious skill set. This woman is a goddess. A writing phenomenon who is stalked regularly… by none other than herself. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">This is an official intervention to cure her bio boringness. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">You don’t know Karen? Have no fear. No suggestion you leave could possibly be more boring than “writer.” You have nothing to lose. But if you’d like to get to know her, read the <b><a href="http://multihyphenate.blogspot.com/2010/02/writing-me-stalker-story.html">great post</a></b> she wrote on <b><a href="http://www.twitter.com/tylerweaver">Tyler Weaver’s</a> </b><a href="http://multihyphenate.blogspot.com/">Multi-hypenate</a> site. You’ll have all the ammo you need to kick her boring bio to the curb.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">So grab your tequila and give it a shot. You truly can’t fail.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">P.S. Wow, I even made a post about Karen's bio a pimp out for Tyler Weaver. Maybe I'm the one who needs an intervention - #pimpaholic.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><br />
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</span></div>Jeanne Veillette Bowermanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07693112521911135141noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6793148740380160789.post-25560636084116292802010-01-16T13:38:00.001-05:002010-04-21T20:18:42.567-04:00Forty PoundsHoly heifer... I won!<br />
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Pauline Campos, our very own <a href="http://twitter.com/aspiringmama">@aspiringmama</a>, is running an <a href="http://aspiringmama.com/?page_id=485">essay contest</a> on her <a href="http://aspiringmama.com/">Aspiring Mama site</a> for mothers to share their stories of postpartum weight loss. Gee, an opportunity to reveal how fat I got... how could I resist?<br />
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Apparently, I was either the best essay writer, or I gained more weight than any other entrant. Regardless, check out my jiggle journey and read for yourself:<br />
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<a href="http://aspiringmama.com/?p=840"><b>Baby F(Ph)at Winner #1: Forty Pounds</b></a><br />
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If you're a mom with a story to share, don't forget to enter her ongoing monthly <a href="http://aspiringmama.com/?page_id=485">contest</a>. Let the phat mama reign!Jeanne Veillette Bowermanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07693112521911135141noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6793148740380160789.post-23452241948210379812010-01-01T17:25:00.004-05:002010-01-04T07:57:05.731-05:00I will not read your f*cking script or manuscript... until June<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">By now, I’m confident most of you have heard about Josh Olsen’s blog in The Village Voice, “<i><a href="http://blogs.villagevoice.com/runninscared/archives/2009/09/i_will_not_read.php">I Will Not Read Your F*cking Script</a></i>”. While I find his lack of tact or ability to give back distasteful, I’m going to join him in saying “no” to reading your f*cking script (or manuscript)... for the next six months.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I need your help in keeping that promise to myself. I can’t do this without you.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Here’s the deal: I am a disease-to-please, insane giver. I didn’t come upon the title of Twitter Pimp Angel by being selfish, you know. It’s because I promote others, put fellow writers’ needs first, and give of myself until my pimp feet ache that I am in the position of spending hours a day reading and giving feedback to my posse of wonderful and talented writers. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The reality is, I have a May deadline to submit the script <a href="http://jeanneveillettebowerman.blogspot.com/2009/08/chasing-writing-project-of-your-dreams.html">Doug</a> and I are writing to the Sundance Screenwriter’s Lab. Our adaptation of Doug's Pulitzer-winning <i><a href="http://www.slaverybyanothername.com/">Slavery by Another Name</a></i> has to be my number one priority. At this juncture, it is essential to my well-being and professional goals to be selfish. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Sure, being one of twelve scripts selected is a long shot, but if you know me at all, you know odds don’t scare me. I believe in the impossible. <a href="http://twitter.com/dannybrown">Danny Brown</a> recently taught me that “IMpossible” should be interpreted as “<a href="http://dannybrown.me/2009/12/31/i-am-possible-my-wish-for-you-in-2010/">I’M possible</a>”. In order for me to reach my goal, I can’t stand in my own way.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Therefore, Doug and I are going for the brass ring. If we don’t get Willy Wonka’s golden ticket, it won’t be because we didn’t eat every chocolate bar in sight while writing our fingers to the bone. Submitting a polished, moving script to Sundance is more important to me than a big, feathery pimp fedora. If you have any doubt how committed I am, please know I have tears in my eyes as I write this. Not being able to fully support my fellow writers is extremely difficult for me. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">So if you love me; if you want to see your pimp succeed, please, I beg you, don’t ask me to read your f*cking script. Hold on to it, and I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">promise</i> I will consider reading as many as I can in June. Above all, know that I do support you; I do love you; I do want you to be the best writer you can possibly be, but I can’t give any more of myself than I’m giving at this moment. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">My brutally honest, raw feedback will be here waiting for you… in June. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">It ain’t easy for a pimp to ask for help, but I’m asking. Help me.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><i>*I haven't completely gone on the selfish, self-obsessed train ride... I still want to read all of your blogs, so @ me on Twitter with your latest posts. I'll read, comment, and pimp until my hat falls off.</i></span><br />
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</div>Jeanne Veillette Bowermanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07693112521911135141noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6793148740380160789.post-73064509629121590082009-12-08T13:56:00.022-05:002010-09-09T16:03:06.256-04:00Kicking Fear's Ass<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><div class="MsoNormal">In 2008, I gave up fear for Lent. It changed my life forever.<br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Fear was paralyzing me. I was afraid to make a decision, afraid of change, afraid of hurting people. You name it, I was afraid of it. I was miserable in many areas, and the one common factor blocking me from growth was fear. So, I decided to put my fear in God’s hands and let Him hold it, allowing me to focus on the problem, not the emotion. I trusted He’d be there and would only give me what I could handle. It wasn’t about a religious belief, it was about finding a way, any way, to let fear go because it was not serving me, it was stopping me… it was killing me and killing my spirit.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Let me step back to the weeks leading up to Lent. I had been training in tae kwon do for seven years. Nine months before my black belt test, I tore my ACL in half, sparring. I had only been back to three classes after my injury and nine-month absence when my Master declared I was to test with the other candidates in three week’s time. I couldn’t believe his request. Just moments before, he was fighting me, and I was crying during the fight because I was so scared of getting hurt. This injury had stolen my otherwise inspired mojo. How could I possibly test? I’d have to train intensely, but more importantly, I had to face my fear of fighting… and failing. I had never been more terrified in my adult life.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I spent days searching deep in my soul to find the strength to do this. I had two choices: cower in fear or face it. I needed desperately to feel some sense of control. So, for the next three weeks, I trained hard. It became a full-time job. My whole body ached. I could barely get out of bed in the morning. I got massages, put Chinese oils on my tired muscles, prayed for strength, meditated, listened to my friends words of encouragement, and let them feed me with power. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">One day, I was beating “Bob” in the basement, our heavy bag shaped like the head and trunk of man, absent appendages. Exhausted, overwhelmed, and fighting my fear of failure, I hit him over and over… then burst into tears. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around “Bob” as if the armless man would hold me in return. I held tight, releasing sobbing fear-filled tears onto his shoulder until I suddenly realized, he could not embrace me back… he could not give me the reassuring hugs I needed. I was truly on my own. Lightbulb. The <i>only</i> person who could give me the strength I needed was me. My mojo was being summoned. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Even with a small bright light of hope, there was much work to do to make up for nine lost months. I knew all the moves of the forms, I now needed to feel them, listen to my body as I blocked and punched and let the forms move through me. I was merely a vessel for its beauty. Fear had no room on this vessel.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I ran daily for the stamina to endure the aerobic aspect of the test, knee throbbing. While running, I’d think about what the forms and karate meant to me. I realized how symbolic this art form is to what I am trying to accomplish in my life, mostly finding strength, both physical and emotional. A form is a perfect example: It’s a fine balance of strength and grace. With each step and movement, you show power, but at the same time, the fluidity of a dancer. It’s the balance of male and female. Strength and beauty. My life goal. When done correctly, forms are almost hypnotic to watch. I strive to do a form the way my Master does. When I watch him, I literally stop, my mouth drops a bit, and all I can think is, “Wow! I want that. I want that kind of strength and grace.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Each day, I felt a little stronger. Each day I learned new things. Each day I rediscovered my inner strength, until one day, I was able to wake up feeling this goal might actually be possible. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The day before the test, I knew there was nothing further I could do to increase my odds. Time was up. There was no point in being afraid. I either knew it, or I didn’t. I had to now stop thinking, stop cramming, and just trust my body to perform. I started to feel some of the stress leaving my shoulders, but my back still ached. I went about my day as normally as I could, even getting a mammogram I had been putting off for six months. Just a routine day. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The next morning, I was making our bed, joking with my husband that either one, two or no black belts would be sleeping in it that night. He held me, kissed my forehead and said he didn’t care. He was proud of us for getting this far. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The phone interrupted the moment. It was the mammogram center. They needed more images of my left breast to investigate a “suspicious spot.” My husband immediately panicked. I breathed. I passed my fear to God and breathed. My husband stared at me in disbelief as I spoke calmly to the woman delivering the news. Her voice was eerily spooked… even confused. She too was alarmed by my soft tone. I admit, I had a moment of panic, but I was able to instantly push it out of my mind, chanting silently, “I am not afraid. I am not afraid.” I know this sounds strange, but I truly wasn’t worried, even if it did turn out to be cancer. I knew I could handle whatever it was. There wasn’t an ounce of fear in me. I was strong… at least at that moment. That was enough to hold on to.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">God was simply testing me again. I wasn’t going to let fear rule me. I gave it up.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">So I danced all morning, literally. I put on old disco music – Michael Jackson, Chaka Kahn, Marvin Gaye, and just danced and danced. I was calm, smiling, and even giddy.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">As my husband and I drove to the test that night, I was still rocking out in the car to Mustang Sally while he intensely focused. We both decided that no matter what happened, we wanted to enjoy the test. We wanted to be able to look back on the night and remember how much fun it was and not focus on the stress.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">We entered Master Grant’s basement dojo smiling and ready, shaking all the black belts hands. I stretched, put my knee brace on and then sat for a quick prayer. As I blessed myself, I could feel tears start to well inside me. I looked down at my injured knee, hoping it would survive the night. I touched my left breast, hoping it would survive too. Taking the deepest breath I could, I quickly asked God for strength and courage and sat up before allowing the tears and fear to take over. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">As we lined up for the test, my husband and I were in the front row. The small basement was already hot with 15 black belts who were judging us, not to mention the wood stove blaring in the back. We went through all the kicking and blocking drills one could imagine and even some I had never heard of. Sweat poured down my back and my knee throbbed. Condensation dripped down the windows from the heat… and it was March.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">One candidate grew pale and faint. She left the dojo to get air. The Master turned to me and growled, “Get her back in here.” I opened the door and firmly stated, “Don’t you give up! I am not leaving you behind.” She rejoined us, weak.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Forms went on, alternating between the six men and women candidates. I didn’t watch anyone else… well, I did peek at my husband, but I stayed in my zone. Closed my eyes when I was off the floor. Stayed focused solely on what I needed to do next. I gave every command every ounce of energy I had. I did my forms heading straight toward the five Masters and throwing kicks and yelling out loud, with all the passion that was in me. I never felt weak. I never allowed myself to think about what was still ahead of me. I forged on one form at a time, giving each move intense power. Dead on. Every punch, every kick was directed at fear.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">My biggest fear of the test was fighting and fully tearing the half an ACL I had left. There were two Masters I was most afraid of: Master Baccognia, a 6ft 8in 6</span><sup><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;">th</span></span></sup><span style="font-family: Arial;"> degree whose reach and speed were that of a cheetah, and Master Kazinski, a 5</span><sup><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;">th</span></span></sup><span style="font-family: Arial;"> degree, strong-as-hell, built-like-a-brick-house prison guard. Guess who I had to fight? Yep. Both of them. I thought the mammogram scare was enough, but God had other plans. He wasn’t done testing me that day. Master Kazinski’s gaze pierced through me, but I looked him in the eye with my best Dirty Harry glare and went at it. It was intense, he didn’t hold back, kicking, hitting, slamming, but as I went, I was determined to block as much as I could, and get off something… and I did. I landed a powerful kick, dead on target. Later, he told me he threw a punch to my head he was convinced would nail me and somehow I avoided the hit. He wanted to know how. I didn’t remember it. Someone else said, “She ducked.” Guess my body did know what to do. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Then I fought Master Baccognia, who nailed me multiple times in the head. Let me say, my 5ft 3in frame is no match for that guy. I might as well have been a Lollipop kid. Instead of quitting, I dodged, took the punches, and even got some good moves in. Two days later, my cheekbones still hurt from the blows.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The very last task of the 2½-hour test was board breaking. My only option was to use my bad leg for the sidekick. I lined up, took a slow, deep breath, stared those boards down like they were my enemy and went for it. I busted through all four in the first shot. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The test was over. A rush came over me. Even if I hadn’t passed the Master’s test, I had passed my own test of inner strength. But yes, I was promoted. After the new black belts changed, I was the first one back in the dojo and literally skipped in. As he watched my smiling, skipping, giddiness, Master Baccognia turned to my direct Master, Master Jones, and said, “I don’t remember that move, did you teach her that?” Everyone laughed. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">When pictures were done, the Masters approached with congratulations, saying my injury never showed. One even confessed he literally gasped watching me do forms and thought, “COOL!” To me, that meant more than the belt itself.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">What an incredible feeling. The best thing I can compare it to is childbirth. Pride. Joy. Excitement. Anxiety. Amazement my body could actually do it. I birthed a new woman that night: A f’ing black belt goddess! She would never have been born if I had not faced my fears.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">One week later, I went for my repeat mammogram. I noticed the pink robe tied in exactly the manner my karate uniform did. I smiled, went into the room and told the technician, “Show me this spot and let’s kick its ass.” I was not afraid. She was floored how composed I was. I explained fear had kept me from making important decisions in my life, and I could no longer afford to cower to it… especially if I had cancer. Her eyes welled with tears. Apparently, she was having a terrifying day of her own. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">As I left, this scared, shaking technician hugged me, thanking me for teaching her she alone had the power over her own destiny and emotions. I’ll never forget that day. She said, “I will have hope to survive today and hope that tomorrow will be better.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Hope kicks fears ass.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I am now a second-degree black belt who is both cancer and fear free.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">Courage is fear holding on a minute longer. – George S. Patton</span></i><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU_R3po0BxPZ-NBtRh0se-aW1cfwdMPhkCt3XqqiFwRXL8huqnaKNppakqDupL7YManMhGl1cGNYss8IWyolstlMRKbRZxcSD-7DT92OCQmlr7Dduj8bcZejoTpGs1pr7JIwNRadF_GQs/s1600-h/IMG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU_R3po0BxPZ-NBtRh0se-aW1cfwdMPhkCt3XqqiFwRXL8huqnaKNppakqDupL7YManMhGl1cGNYss8IWyolstlMRKbRZxcSD-7DT92OCQmlr7Dduj8bcZejoTpGs1pr7JIwNRadF_GQs/s320/IMG.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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note: the Masters are in the back row, standing. Master J, Master C, Master G, Master K, Master M, and Master B.<br />
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</div></span></div>Jeanne Veillette Bowermanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07693112521911135141noreply@blogger.com35tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6793148740380160789.post-69503368941174651762009-11-18T19:54:00.012-05:002009-11-24T13:25:17.047-05:00TweetsGiving: What I Am Thankful For<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Giving thanks.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Some years, it’s easier to identify what I am thankful for than others.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">However, a crap storm has barraged my life the past few weeks, making each day a struggle. </span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I’ve questioned my sanity, my goals, my writing, my perspectives, and even my character. </span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I’ve been in survival mode.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I’ve lost focus, specifically in my writing.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Contemplating what I’m thankful for has been the last thing on my mind. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Yet, here I sit, pondering the notion of pushing aside the above-mentioned crap, and seeing the big picture.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Right now, I’m thankful for Tina, @CTK1, for inviting me to participate in TweetsGiving.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Perspective is precisely what I need.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">What am I thankful for? </span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Without a doubt, I’m thankful for the obvious blessings: health, family, friends... and my therapist.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">But this year, I’m most thankful for the lessons I’ve learned in my life, especially in my writing.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Being open to those lessons, even in times of great sorrow and pain, is the key to growth and learning.</span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Through my words, I have moved people to tears, to laughter, and yes, to anger… anger directed at me for daring to write naked.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I have apologized and defended, even taking down one blog post, but refusing to take down others.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">But in all of this, I owned when I was wrong, tried to rectify it, and most importantly, learned critical lessons.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Many of my Twitter writers felt my angst these past weeks.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">As I slowly peeled away the layers of pain from having censored myself, they rallied around me, sending hugs, kisses, and even chocolate tweets as salves.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">They encouraged me to write without fear and to stay true to my words. </span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">They provided me with perspective, compassion and love. They pulled off the duct tape I had placed across my mouth.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I am forever thankful for my posse of insane writers who understand the pain of censorship the way no family member could.</span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I am thankful for the people who question not only my motives, but also me.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I am thankful for the people who have honored my words, enjoyed them, and shared them with friends.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I am thankful for having the ability to swell emotions in my readers’ hearts.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I am even thankful for pissing them off, whether I am right or wrong.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Above all, I am thankful people read my words.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I am humbled by the power they have.</span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Writing naked is an enormous responsibility.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Sometimes, one must be a mercenary… a hard lesson for a disease-to-pleaser like me. </span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">So when you’re barraged with a crap storm of your own, remember to plug your nose and dive in. </span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">The sting will seep in your eyes, your nose, your throat, but feel it… let it in.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Once you push past the pain, you will find light and lessons. </span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Every crap storm has a lesson… if you dare to stick your head in deep enough.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Above all, be thankful for the opportunity to grow.</span></span></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Please click on the TweetsGiving donation link below and unleash your gratitude. </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:'Lucida Grande';font-size:11px;"><a name="b_e956d810b6d3012cb547000d60d4c902"></a><object classid="clsid:d27cdb6e-ae6d-11cf-96b8-444553540000" id="badgee956d810b6d3012cb547000d60d4c902" width="205" codebase="http://fpdownload.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=8,0,0,0" height="350" align="middle"> <param value="always" name="allowScriptAccess"> <param value="all" name="allowNetworking"> <param value="https://giving.paypallabs.com/flash/badge.swf" name="movie"> <param value="high" name="quality"> <param value="#000000" name="bgcolor"> <param value="transparent" name="wmode"> <param value="Id=e956d810b6d3012cb547000d60d4c902" name="FlashVars"> <embed allownetworking="all" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" quality="high" allowscriptaccess="always" align="middle" flashvars="Id=e956d810b6d3012cb547000d60d4c902" src="https://giving.paypallabs.com/flash/badge.swf" height="350" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" bgcolor="#000000" id="badgee956d810b6d3012cb547000d60d4c902" width="205" wmode="transparent"></embed> </object></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">This post was created as part of a global groundswell of gratitude called TweetsGiving. In conjunction with 12For12K, this celebration, created by US nonprofit Epic Change is an experiment in social innovation that seeks to change the world through the power of gratitude.</span></span></i></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Join us </span></span></i></span><a href="http://tweetsgiving.epicchange.org/"><span style="color:#001DFD;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">http://tweetsgiving.epicchange.org/</span></span></i></span></a><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-Times New Roman"font-family:";font-size:16.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment-->Jeanne Veillette Bowermanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07693112521911135141noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6793148740380160789.post-91214625821064295512009-10-28T13:29:00.004-04:002009-10-28T13:37:34.942-04:00Who Do You Attract?<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaTtX76KPmF9oeNWv23s4gpWsxgGsS1TYM3MGgzFUCdG9ZDb5OD37RYLk5W5uQ0S4R1fcQTkjCUaYdyLUsX7qjtD3DO9IpZsCweJoG2jx3_IhwwjP5XFmNkp6W4Pa2fpQTMfoxodF9c88/s1600-h/IMG_0525.JPG"></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFbq1HiOMBkYNA7YXQM7ETvUPK8P0TWV13jShafXSUJd9uGa5fpaczlA_JtN2eRRtYIMcBFNVUD6niyrg1EDscdMhfXliREeSVDxNAfqUaeF1ReRUdDNhoDV1S85MbygSMuBkjjXWl5yo/s1600-h/photo-1.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 102px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFbq1HiOMBkYNA7YXQM7ETvUPK8P0TWV13jShafXSUJd9uGa5fpaczlA_JtN2eRRtYIMcBFNVUD6niyrg1EDscdMhfXliREeSVDxNAfqUaeF1ReRUdDNhoDV1S85MbygSMuBkjjXWl5yo/s200/photo-1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397705357678452210" /></a><br /><!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">S<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">aturday morning, September 5, 2009. </span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">As I pulled my weary body out of bed, I reached for my cell, finding a stream of unopened emails.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I scrolled down, reading, “Call me when you get this.”</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">My heart sank.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I didn’t need to dial the numbers to know Sharon was dead.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I met Sharon in elementary school.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I couldn’t have been more than six or seven.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">She had a strong personality, even as a child.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Stubborn.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to ask for it. </span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Two years ago, her brother called to deliver the news of her ALS, more commonly known as Lou Gehrig’s disease.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">She was 44 and mother of three.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Sadly, life as working mothers had forced us to lose touch, absent the occasional Christmas card or accidental meeting.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">But despite that, she wanted me to know.</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Even though I hadn’t seen her in six years, her smile greeted me with all the warmth of someone I saw every day. </span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Only months after her diagnosis, she was already dependant on a walker.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Despite the obvious decline, denial was everywhere.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">We didn’t broach the subject of her disease or what it meant.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I simply cleaned her kitchen, made her laugh as much as possible and played with her young children.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">As we talked for hours, catching up on our lives, I puttered about her house, being her arms and legs to do her bidding.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">The joy of being together was exhilarating.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">At the end of the day, I arrived home exhausted but still had my own family to care for.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">As I cooked dinner, I looked at the timer.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Ninety seconds before the pasta was ready.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I raced to the bathroom and returned before the buzz went off.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Seems simple, right?</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Except just hours earlier, I watched Sharon take a total of 25 minutes to walk to and from her bathroom.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I drained my pasta, crying.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Everything I did that night, no matter how simple, was something Sharon could no longer do.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Her life was now full of dependency… my greatest personal fear.</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Although I lived almost an hour away, over the coming months, I helped care for her whenever possible, always spreading a constant stream of laughter through her house… my forte.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Each time I’d arrive, I’d see a steady decline – the wheelchair being used more often, and then her hands betraying her.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I cut her food and fed her.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">But the task I remember most was taking her to the bathroom.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Allow me to digress:</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">When Sharon and I were in the 3</span></span><sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">rd</span></span></sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> grade, we went to her family’s lake house.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">We were changing into our swimsuits, when she asked me to turn around.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I wanted to laugh.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">We were so young, and as insecure as I was, I was never shy about my body.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Besides, I was all of eight.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">What was there to hide?</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">But that was Sharon: Conservative, modest and stubborn to the core.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">You simply didn’t deny Sharon a request, even back then.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">So, here I now was, helping her with the most personal bodily function, yet trying to allow her dignity.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">As I wrapped my arms around her, lifting her almost lifeless body from the wheelchair, we looked like a couple slow dancing.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I held on with one hand and slid her pants down with the other.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">She started to giggle and whispered, “Jeanne, come on… at least you could romance me a bit first.”</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">We laughed so hard I almost dropped her.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">She’s lucky I’m a mule.</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">That moment got me thinking, who would wipe my ass if I couldn’t? </span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Have you ever pondered the notion of not being able to do the simplest of tasks?</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I now look at my friends and family wondering which one of them, if any, would be humble enough to serve me.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Sharon always said, “Who ever thought when we played Barbies, I would need you this way?”</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Who ever thought, indeed.</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I was usually alone with her, but as time went on, the family required more caregivers, not just for Sharon, but also for her children.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Sharon’s posse of supporters, live-in au pairs, nurses, and her neighbors would flutter in and out.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I no longer spent hours cleaning her house, as she had people for that.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">My time with her became a luxury of laughter and remembrance.</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">My job now was to bring Sharon any friend from the past she wanted to see.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Her first request was Julie, a woman neither of us had seen in almost 30 years.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I found and delivered the self-proclaimed crazy artist.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Upon pulling up to the curb, Julie handed me a small bottle of vodka, cracked hers open and downed it for anesthetic.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">She didn’t yet know there was no need to be numb to see Sharon.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">We entered to meet Anne-Marie and Joanne, Sharon’s neighbors.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I’ll have to save the entire, fantastic Julie story for a longer installment, but suffice it to say, when Joanne left, she pulled Anne-Marie aside and said, “Don’t you dare leave her alone with them… I’m sure she has a bong in her purse!” </span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Anne-Marie warmed up to us though, and by the end, we had her laughing in hysterics and looking forward to my next visit, and to whomever I brought through the door.</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Most people assumed visiting Sharon was depressing, but I only cried once.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Just once.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I had called another childhood friend, Paul, who lived four hours away and put him on speaker, allowing me to translate her facial expressions as the ALS had taken her voice.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">When I hung up, I expressed how much he loves her and hopes he can get here “before it’s too late.”</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">It’s the only time I ever acknowledged someday we’d be without her.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Neither of us could hold our tears back.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">However, I betrayed her that day by permitting reality to seep into our cocoon of love.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I never let it happen again.</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Despite not being able to talk, Sharon was a marvel with her ability to communicate.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">She had this chart to spell things out with… we referred to it as the “damned alphabet.” </span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Between her alphabet and her intensely expressive eyes, she could “talk” for hours, and truly LIVED.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">She was still Sharon, just trapped in a body that failed her.</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Stubborn.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Forever stubborn, she asked for what she wanted.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">She spelled out “R. I. N. G.” every time I was there.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">It meant one thing: MY ring.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">She wanted it on her finger.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">So, I would dutifully take it off and place it on her hand. </span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Each time, she’d hope I’d forget it, but I wouldn’t.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I’d slip it off, joking she can’t keep it.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">But each visit, I would place it on her finger, until one day, I left it there.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">This ring is one I had worn daily which literally feels like a hug on your finger.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I placed it on her hand and leaned in, “When you feel this, know I’m here with you.”</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I knew the next time I wore that ring, Sharon would be dead.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I touched my finger for days, feeling the nakedness, but hoping she was feeling my love.</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Always waiting for word of Sharon’s health, I slipped back into my life with my own family.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">While at the lake, I got an email on my cell:</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">“It’s bad.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">She’s scared.”</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">My teen daughter saw me crying… not something I do publicly… grabbed my hand and cried too.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I went to Sharon immediately.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">When I arrived, her four crazy, nurturing, beautiful friends I heard so much about were all there.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Never having been in the room at the same time, we immediately embraced, tears flowing… but not in front of Sharon.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Never in front of Sharon.</span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Then something magical happened. The five of us sat with our unresponsive Sharon, telling stories, talking to her, laughing, and reminiscing about each of our roles in her too-short life. We took turns wearing my ring, finally placing it back on Sharon’s hand.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Full of emotion, one of the girls declared, “We need to make a toast" and ran to her neighboring house to retrieve wine. </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">These incredible women turned a death vigil into a celebration. Sharon's brother, parents and husband came in. We toasted her. Toasted her life, her love. Toasted mothers and friends. We laughed, took pictures and lingered for hours. Finally, we laid our hands on Sharon's, with my ring prominent, and took a picture. We kissed her and said our goodbyes. Anne-Marie sang a song in Sharon's ear from Wicked:</span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">"I've heard it said, that people come into our lives, for a reason, bringing something we must learn. And we are led, to those who help us most to grow, if we let them. And we help them in return. Well I don't know if I've been changed for the better, but...because I knew you, I have been changed for good."</span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">It was the most beautiful night. A celebration of life.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Sharon died five days later.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">The story of Sharon isn’t the story of a woman who tragically died young, but rather one of unique and rare friendships.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">She brought five women together who were strangers.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">She made us one.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">She united us in a way that changed our lives.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I sit here typing, watching my fingers fly across the keys and seeing the ring all of us had on our fingers at one point, if only for the symbolic gesture of feeling closer to Sharon. </span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Because we loved her, we now love each other.</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Since her death, so many people have said, “Jeanne, you’re such a great friend.”</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">They’re missing the point.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Sharon was the great friend.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">When she would relentlessly thank me, I would jokingly drop to my knees, bow and say, “It is an honor to serve you.”</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Giggling, she knew in her heart, I meant every word.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">It’s not that this group of woman who served Sharon were special, myself included.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">It’s that Sharon herself had the ability to attract selfless, humble people to her world.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">It speaks volumes of her character.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Think about your friends. Think about the people you follow on social networking sites.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Think about those who have passed through your life. </span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Would you wipe their ass?</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Do you think they would wipe yours? </span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">And more importantly, what kind of people do you attract?</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Selfish or selfless?</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">What is the purpose of your connections with people?</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Is it for personal gain or for love?</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">If you can answer those questions, you might learn a lot about yourself… just saying.</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Sharon’s story is one of my works in progress.</span></span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaTtX76KPmF9oeNWv23s4gpWsxgGsS1TYM3MGgzFUCdG9ZDb5OD37RYLk5W5uQ0S4R1fcQTkjCUaYdyLUsX7qjtD3DO9IpZsCweJoG2jx3_IhwwjP5XFmNkp6W4Pa2fpQTMfoxodF9c88/s200/IMG_0525.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397705679672610658" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 110px; " /></span></p> <!--EndFragment-->Jeanne Veillette Bowermanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07693112521911135141noreply@blogger.com40tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6793148740380160789.post-35657704897054353302009-10-19T09:41:00.004-04:002009-10-21T14:05:35.348-04:00Twitter Screenwriting Chat<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial, serif;font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:16px;"> <!--StartFragment--> </span></span></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial, serif;font-size:130%;"><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi- font-family:Arial;font-size:12.0pt;">Writers have #writechat, now screenwriters have #scriptchat, <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#33FF33;">Sundays</span></b> at <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#33FF33;">8pm</span></b> <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#33FF33;">EST(5pm PST).</span></b><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi- font-family:Arial;font-size:12.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi- font-family:Arial;font-size:12.0pt;">Born via <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#33FF33;">@yeah_write</span></b>, <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#33FF33;">@zacsanford</span></b>, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#33FF33;"><b>@KageyNYC</b></span> and myself (<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#33FF33;">@jeannevb</span></b>), our goal is to bring seasoned and aspiring screenwriters together to learn, grow, and nurture our craft… and each other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi- font-family:Arial;font-size:12.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi- font-family:Arial;font-size:12.0pt;">At the designated time, simply search the hashtag #scriptchat and jump in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>NOTE: Make sure you add that hashtag to your tweet or other followers won’t see your comments.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi- font-family:Arial;font-size:12.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi- font-family:Arial;font-size:12.0pt;">We’ll post a different topic each chat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>If you have suggestions or requests for topics, please @ me on Twitter or leave a comment below.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi- font-family:Arial;font-size:12.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi- font-family:Arial;font-size:12.0pt;">Let’s join together and learn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Feel free to BYOB, after all, it’s a party.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi- font-family:Arial;font-size:12.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;mso-bidi- font-family:Arial;font-size:12.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#33FF33;"><b>“We aren’t competitors, we’re a community.”</b></span><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#33FF33;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">UPDATE: If #scriptchat becomes a trending topic, @zacsanford will give one lucky participant a full development session for FREE! </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> Tweet & WIN!</span></span></b></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <!--EndFragment--> </span><p></p> <!--EndFragment-->Jeanne Veillette Bowermanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07693112521911135141noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6793148740380160789.post-43696884254719163962009-10-17T17:39:00.040-04:002010-04-13T14:36:30.342-04:00Follow Friday List Deserving of a Pimp<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I’ve chosen to recommend people in this format, because I need more than 140 characters to tell you why you might be interested in following them. When tweeters simply list a bunch of names with a #FF next to them, it never makes me click on someone. I tend to only take people’s recommendations if I have some basic information why they’d be interesting.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I’m separating them into categories to save you all time. Scroll down to the title that appeals to you and ignore the rest. I’m all about efficiency. Each week, I will keep the new entries at the top, then the following week, I’ll add them to the already existing list and put new ones on the top again. Rinse and repeat. That’s the plan anyway... I might just keep adding them to the top since this is a major investment of time.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Here we go… please don’t quit on me before you read them all. These people really are deserving of my pimping….<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><b><span style="color: #9b42c2; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt;">APRIL 13, 2010<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #9b42c2; font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; font-weight: bold;">Writers:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><b><a href="http://twitter.com/slushpilehero">@slushpilehero</a> </b>a fantastic friend and writer who is one of my rocks on Twitter. She's lovely, funny, intelligent and forgiving of my many pimp fails... like not putting her on this list MUCH earlier! I love this girl... like a sister. Check out this talented writer's blog: <a href="http://slushpilehero.wordpress.com/">http://slushpilehero.wordpress.com/ </a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><b><span style="color: #9b42c2; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt;">#FF POST ORIGINALS<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><b><span style="color: #8a48c3; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt;">Random</span></b><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt;">:<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I say “random” in the nicest of terms. I don’t know how to categorize them because the lines blur as to the specific reasons I follow them. They’re engrained in my tweet stream.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://www.twitter.com/booksbelow">@booksbelow</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> I can’t possibly say enough about Roger. He is by far the greatest inspiration and source of support I have met on Twitter. What I love about him is his intelligence, skill at spreading resource knowledge, and great sense of humor. He’s everything a tweeter could want, wrapped in one avatar. Oh, and he has a tiny horse named SMOKY. Who can beat that? Click here to see Smoky in action: <a href="http://www.twitvid.com/346AC"><span style="color: #0027e8;">http://www.twitvid.com/346AC</span></a></span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/ctk1">@CTK1</a></span></span></b><span style="color: #96e81c; font-family: Arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial;">She’s right up there with Roger. They’re a team in my eyes. She’s the amigo who makes us miss her when she’s off Twitter. Unpredictable, hysterical, smart, unique, GROOVY, with an enormous heart. Watching her unfiltered tweet stream brings me joy. She’s real and has FIREBALLS. Her blog is <a href="http://ctkingston.com/"><span style="color: #332378; text-decoration: none;">http://ctkingston.com/</span></a> Guaranteed to light your fire!</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/dannybrown">@DannyBrown</a> <a href="http://twitter.com/prcog">@PRCog</a> <a href="http://twitter.com/_djh">@_djh</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> are the selfless men of 12 for 12K . OK, so Danny is the “gentleman” of the bunch… well, so is @_djh (or at least so far)… so that leaves @PRCog as the nongentleman (said with great respect-hee). Take that how you want, but they are a great follow. Masked men who do good in this world. Batman’s got nothing on them. I should mention, PRCog has a great blog, albeit wordy, but very real. I love real.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">You can’t follow @PRCog without following <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/stina6001">@stina6001</a> <a href="http://twitter.com/hdueitt">@hdueitt</a> <a href="http://twitter.com/tjdietderich">@tjdietderich</a></span></b>. They can do major PR and mix up cocktails at the same time *bow*<b><span style="color: #96e81c;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/smashadv">@smashadv</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> has the honesty and character I deeply respect. He is at the top of my “people I will forever follow” list. His blog is always real (“real” is a recurring theme and requirement for me, as I’m sure you’ve noticed by now). I met Jim via a fellow tweeter sending me his blog link simply because she knew I’d appreciate his candor. I do. Greatly. Check it out yourself: <a href="http://bit.ly/10YqZ"><span style="color: #002de5; text-decoration: none;">http://bit.ly/10YqZ</span></a> (also on my recommended list)</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/ctk1">@CTK1</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> (see above), <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/mfeige">@mfeige</a> <a href="http://twitter.com/jenn85">@jenn85</a></span></b> and <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/lynnster23">@Lynnster23</a></span></b>. These are peeps I let my guard down with and throw caution to the wind. NOTHING is filtered here, so beware. I highly recommend following them all, or you’ll miss half the hilarity!</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/foxyfox_">@foxyfox_</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"> </span>(those are zeros, not letters) has a fantasticly fun feed. Her tweets are raw, real, and abundant. <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/ambigfoot">@ambigfoot</a></span></b> and I both agree, we could RT her all day. You should follow him too... but be prepared for real honesty and some naughty language : )</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/ask_izzy">@Ask_Izzy</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> writes a bi-weekly Thursday advice column on <a href="http://www.megsmumbo.blogspot.com/"><span style="color: #002de5; text-decoration: none;">http://www.megsmumbo.blogspot.com/</span></a> She’s far better than any Dear Abby! I also happen to know, she likes tequila.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/nsedef">@nsedef</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> was a surprise find to me. Her bio reads “entrepreneur, marketer and communicator; digital and news junkie; co-founder and managing partner of creative services boutique.” Initially, I wondered why she was following me, an insane, pimping writer, but once we started @’ing, it was love. She’s funny, highly intelligent, extremely generous, and one of my top peeps. Check out her site <a href="http://www.thehaloproject.com/"><span style="color: #002de5; text-decoration: none;">http://www.thehaloproject.com/</span></a></span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/bklynMF">@bklynMF</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> This guy is cool. Flat out cool. His fun, dry wit cracks me up all day. God bless the Nerf empire.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/glowmoment">@glowmoment</a> </span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;">Jeanne has an every-changing avatar but one stable twitter voice. I defy you not to fall in love with her.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/fjfonseca">@fjfonseca</a></span></span><span style="color: #96e81c; font-family: Arial;"> </span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;">Fernando is a new find for me. I lost my Google Wave virginity to him…I’ll let you all absorb that for a moment (heehee). He is gentle, patient, knowledgeable and full of more information than the Brittanica. Great sense of humor too. What more could you want?</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/go_rv_ing">@Go_RV_ing</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> you don’t need to like RV’s to like these tweets. Fun, infectious and spreading RT love… but don’t worry, not the Britney kind of love. A</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p>nother one of those “is it a guy or a chick” names, but really, who cares. Go_RV_ing cracks me up, simply said. Oh, and if you have a really great recipe, send it on over.</o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/slickriptide">@Slickriptide</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> claims he’s an opinionated bastard, but he’s a wonderfully amusing guy who can keep up the humor pace with the best of them.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/jlkoctober">@jlkoctober</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> brightens my day, simply said. She’s one of those friends you could turn to with your worst problem and not be judged. Her love of Eastern philosophies is probably how we met. Can’t remember. Regardless, she’s in the feed of many of my friends and our group tweetups rock my world.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/mbreinholt">@mbreinholt</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> has this Green Bay background but don’t hold that against him if you aren’t a football fan. He’s no chunkhead. He’s just a guy. His name is Marco… to which I always want to tweet “Polo”… except I hate that game. Fun guy. I don’t have any idea what he does for a living, and I don’t care. Maybe he’s a dog groomer. So, if you have a dirty dog, give him a tweet.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><b><span style="color: #8a48c3; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt;">Pros who dish out great writing advice:<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Since I’m a writer, it’s important to remember why I started tweeting in the first place… to learn. Here are my faves:</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/janefriedman">@JaneFriedman</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> Publisher of Writer’s Digest fame. I religiously read her blog and RT her advice. If you follow one publisher, she should be it. She’s also approachable and very generous. I’ve suggested writers to her, and she actually followed them! Very humble… and she loves bourbon. Definitely my kind of gal.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/rachellegardner">@RachelleGardner</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> is a literary agent who focuses on the Christian marketplace. Her blog provides essential information for all writers, not just Christian writers, so please don’t discount her if you’re an atheist! If you’re serious about writing, she’s the agent to follow. No bull. She calls it like it is. Love that.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #8be310;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/colleenlindsay">@ColleenLindsay</a></span></span> </b></span>Perhaps I should let her bio speak for itself: <i>Publishing browncoat. Digital proselytizer. Literary agent. Queer human. Pop culture junkie. People connector. Sartorial tragedy. Cat herder. Professional nerd.</i> However, I will add she's one sarcastic, truth-speaking agent. My favorite kind. Don't you dare send a query before reading her blog! </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><b><span style="color: #8a48c3; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt;">Screenwriters:</span></b><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/scriptchat">@scriptchat</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"> </span>is the official tweep for #scriptchat that I update as much as possible to inform all screenwriters of the latest and greatest </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><b><a href="http://twitter.com/mj_slide">@MJ_ Slide</a></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"> <span class="Apple-style-span">Mahongoney may be young in years, but she’s a rich, old soul. We had many discussions about the adaptation I’m doing, and she will absolutely be one of my trusted readers. Not only do I enjoy her perspectives, I enjoy her humor and sweetness. She is indeed my favorite newest find. Delighted she’s on my feed. Watch her video on her blog to learn more about her. She's one to keep an eye on! http://juntoinkfilms.blogspot.com/ </span></span></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial;"><b><a href="http://twitter.com/eyamie">@eyamie</a> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-weight: normal;">Jeff is on fun screenwriter and always happy to share. He’s such a great #scriptchat participant that he even put “#scriptchat” in his bio! Gotta dig that kinda love!</span></b></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial;"><b><br />
</b></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial;"><b><a href="http://twitter.com/pattyfantasia">@pattyfantastia</a> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-weight: normal;">is the Director of Marketing of Nevada Film Alliance in Las Vegas. She writes, she produces, and she shanks. Yes, she shanks. So watch out ;) Check out her Filmmaker’s Notebook blog: <a href="http://www.filmmakersnotebook.com/">http://www.filmmakersnotebook.com/</a> Oh, and she loves hockey.</span></b></span></div></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/jasondalbianco">@JasonDalBianco</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> quick-witted screenwriter who keeps you laughing… and sometimes make your jaw drop. Warning: Jason's views aren't always popular, but I love a person who speaks their mind, throwing public opinion aside.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000; font-weight: bold;"><a href="http://twitter.com/kageynyc">@KageyNYC</a> </span>I've had the pleasure of meeting Kim in person. Formerly in the publishing business, she's now a screenwriting student at The New School. As a treefort team member of #scriptchat, she's invaluable to me. Gives great advice and always keeps it real. If you're a filmmaker in NYC, give her an @. She'd love to stalk your set and learn. Check out her new blog: <span class="Apple-style-span"><a href="http://www.kgarland.com/">http://www.kgarland.com/</a> </span></span><br />
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</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/dawnbierschwal">@dawnbierschwal</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> is the very first writing partner I had. In 2005, I set out to write a novel, and Dawn sidetracked me into screenwriting. I haven’t forgotten about the novel, but we wrote two scripts together, and have known each other for more years than we dare mention. She helped give me the confidence to share my words with the world. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/uncompletedwork">@UnCompletedWork</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> is an amazing networker in and out of the NYC area. If you have a hankering for singing, he does Screenwriter Karaoke! Very talented young man, wise beyond his years. Watch out of him. He’s one that’ll make it. If you follow him, you need to follow <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/covermyscript">@covermyscript</a></span></b> too. They’re collaborating.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000; font-weight: bold;"><a href="http://twitter.com/covermyscript">@covermyscript</a> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-weight: normal;">is a professional script reader who doesn’t give sugar-coated feedback like your mama. If you want to hear it real, toss your script her way… pronto. Besides being a pro, she’s one fun, tequila-lovin’, not-bashful tweeter. Check out her site: <a href="http://www.covermyscript.com/">http://www.covermyscript.com/</a></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/dreamsgrafter">@DreamsGrafter</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> just finished her first speed-pitching event. Talented, passionate, and dedicated to her craft, she blogs, networks, and supports her fellow writer. She’s a delicious Twitter find. She's also the EURO #scriptchat moderator. She is my ROCK on the other side of the pond. Her blog: <span class="Apple-style-span"><a href="http://screenwriterjourney.blogspot.com/">http://screenwriterjourney.blogspot.com/</a> </span></span><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/yeah_write">@yeah_write</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> not only writes screenplays, but writes mystery/suspense novels, owns a restaurant and horses. She’s published in non-fiction (magazines and hiking book). Multi-tasker is her middle name. She’s an intelligent, fun, out-of-the-box friend. I am delighted we met! She makes a mean POM martini & glass beads too.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/ninehourfilms">@ninehourfilms</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> is a new follow for me, but her screenwriting skills got her to the top 100 at the CS Open contest. She’s one to watch…</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/mhictire">@mhictire</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial;">is a master web man, great writer (I know, I’ve read his work), and has a head-banging, teen son who wears really cool hats. I dig him.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/ttimetochitchat">@ttimetochitchat</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"> </span>has a stream worthy of a PIMP. Just getting to know this tweeter, but definitely like the pimp style & networking love.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/karenquah">@karenquah</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> amazes me. What more can I say? She’s an incredibly talented screenwriter who tackled Nano this year with vigor, posting her almost-daily updates on the self-inflicted writing hell she was in. One of THE most talented writers I have met on Twitter. You have to see her blog: <a href="http://moderndaystoryteller.com/"><span style="color: #002de5; text-decoration: none;">http://moderndaystoryteller.com/</span></a> To be honest, I started following her because of her Godfather background ha :) Karen is so wonderful, she’s also listed under “<i>novels & writers alike</i>” on this post below.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/karenquah">@purelycarrie</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> blogs and shares her knowledge on #scriptchat. Very supportive, wonderful tweeter. <a href="http://purelycarrie.wordpress.com/"><span style="color: #002de5; text-decoration: none;">http://purelycarrie.wordpress.com/</span></a></span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/jeffige">@jeffige</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> is a screenwriter who helps others. Check out his blog for great tips on writing, especially if you’re new at it. A great find. <a href="http://learningscreenplay.blogspot.com/"><span style="color: #002de5; text-decoration: none;">http://learningscreenplay.blogspot.com/</span></a></span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/labtoad">@labtoad</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> bio says “playwright” but he’s in the screenwriting category anyway. Leslie follows writers and screenwriters alike. @ her … that’s a pimp order.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/joannadangelo">@JoannaDangelo</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> always up for some fun on #scriptchat or beyond. A joy. Need I say more?</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/davidspies">@davidspies</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> amazing pimp of #scriptchat and others. Love his support and spread of knowledge.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/jlichtenberg">@JLichtenberg</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> is a longtime Science Fiction writer and screenwriter who lends wonderful support to up-and-coming writers. I bow to her for joining us at #scriptchat. </span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/rachlanger">@rachlanger</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> is my tech goddess screenwriter and creator of our scriptchat blog <a href="http://www.scriptchat.blogspot.com/"><span style="color: #3a1f78; text-decoration: none;">www.scriptchat.blogspot.com</span></a> She patiently suffers through my tech fail moments and cries for help. Love having a writer on my feed with so many talents. Rachel and I started <a href="http://SMwriters.com/">SMwriters.com</a> together, a support site for writers who are navigating social media sites. Check us out and follow <b><a href="http://twitter.com/smwriters">@SMwriters</a></b> on Twitter too! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/skcomedy">@SKCOMEDY</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> has wowed #scriptchat with his time, knowledge and generosity. It’s a joy to have him in the mix. We’re all better informed because he’s a part of our lives. Follow him and learn.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/lifesizeld">@LifesizeLD</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> I met her through @zacsanford. I admit, when I first saw her Twitter name, I thought, “why is she posting her bra size?” but alas, she isn’t. She’s simply a wonderful comedy writer who adds a bright light to our #scriptchat nights. </span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/2degreesofalie">@2degreesofalie</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> Alie is one of my dearest friends in real life. She’s truly a gem – funny, brilliant and a humble heart. Currently working on The Conan O’Brien Show, I’m confident Alie is one writer to watch. She’ll take over the comedy world in no time. Here she is in one of Conan’s skits: <a href="http://bit.ly/5rywsk"><span style="color: #0027e8; text-decoration: none;">http://bit.ly/5rywsk</span></a> She also has a very funny blog: <a href="http://twoblondeswalkintoablog.wordpress.com/"><span style="color: #0027e8; text-decoration: none;">http://twoblondeswalkintoablog.wordpress.com/</span></a></span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/kingisafink">@kingisafink</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> King and Keck are my treasured pimp angel assistants. Dynamic duo filmmaking and screenwriting team, they will inform and delight…and bring you coffee <a href="http://kingisafink.com/"><span style="color: #0027e8; text-decoration: none;">http://kingisafink.com/</span></a></span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/moviequill">@moviequill</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> is a fun-loving screenwriter who makes me giggle as well as confessions his fetishes to me. Follow to find out just what those are…. <a href="http://moviequill.blogspot.com/"><span style="color: #0027e8; text-decoration: none;">http://moviequill.blogspot.com/</span></a><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/huerhodes">@huerhodes</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> wrote and directed his first feature film, Saint John of Las Vegas, starring Steve Buscemi… who I LOVE! Here’s a link: <a href="http://www.huerhodes.com/hues-blog/saint-john-of-las-vegas.html"><span style="color: #3a1f78;">http://www.huerhodes.com/hues-blog/saint-john-of-las-vegas.html</span></a> Can’t wait to see it! Definitely keep your eye out for Hue’s blog too: <a href="http://www.huerhodes.com/"><span style="color: #3a1f78;">www.huerhodes.com</span></a></span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/quicksilverwest">@quicksilverwest</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> not sure if it’s a guy or a chick, but really, who cares when the voice has such great wit? Fun writer who keeps me on my toes. Dig that.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/djordanknight">@DJordanKnight</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> is one of my favorite writers. Currently, writing a script with <b><a href="http://twitter.com/zacsanford">@zacsanford</a></b>, this girl has humor in her bones. If you ever wondered what it was like to write naked, you better read her blog: <a href="http://d-jordan-knight.blogspot.com/"><span style="color: #0027e8;">http://d-jordan-knight.blogspot.com/</span></a> She inspires me every single day. Love her… and her writing.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/peteofalltrades">@PeteofAllTrades</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> Pete is a comedian, author, lover of sushi and expert on adding humor to weight loss. His book, <i>The UnAmerican UnDiet</i> is hysterical: <a href="http://www.unamericanundiet.com/welcome.htm"><span style="color: #0027e8;">http://www.unamericanundiet.com/welcome.htm</span></a> I should mention, I know Pete in real life… one of the men in this world I deeply respect. <b><a href="http://twitter.com/2degreesofalie">@2degreesofalie</a></b> is lucky to have found him!</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/scripteach">@scripteach</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> writer, teacher, filmmaker… so much to learn from Bill. So when he speaks, listen up peeps. David Trottier of <i>The Screenwriter’s Bible</i> even pimps him… I’m in good company! <a href="http://www.scripteach.com/"><span style="color: #0027e8;">http://www.scripteach.com/</span></a></span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1269089246942">@</a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/timsn">Timsn</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> screenwriter from NYC and regular participant in #scriptchat. Always spreading knowledge and fun.</span><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><b><span style="color: #8a48c3; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt;">Various film folk:</span></b><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I follow so many film industry people, but here’s a few I really enjoy. Please don’t be dissuaded because I haven’t elaborated on the reasons why you should follow them. Just show some blind trust, and remember, I don’t pimp crap:</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/corky242">@CORKY242</a> <a href="http://twitter.com/filmutopia">@filmutopia</a> <a href="http://twitter.com/eitherorfilms">@EitherOrFilms</a> <a href="http://twitter.com/mjodirector">@mjodirector</a> <a href="http://twitter.com/iscamedia">@iscamedia</a> <a href="http://twitter.com/dr0id">@Dr0id</a> <a href="http://twitter.com/robertcarroll">@robertcarroll</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> and <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1269089246979">@GoldenAgeofGee</a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/goldenageofgeek">k</a></span></b></span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/zacsanford">@zacsanford</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> gets a mention of his own, because I’ve met him in person, long before I started tweeting. Yes, I have pitched to him. Very generous, fun, and humorous, person. One of the good guys out there in La La Land. He's also the First Dude of our #scriptchat #treefort team. We pimpettes would be lost without him. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/filmutopia">@filmuptopia</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> I listed Clive on my original post, but I know him better now, hence wanted to expand. His blog <a href="http://filmutopia.typepad.com/film_utopia/"><span style="color: #002de5; text-decoration: none;">http://filmutopia.typepad.com/film_utopia/</span></a> has a smorgasbord of filmmaking knowledge. He shares his learnings, his projects and his writing adventures. Currently, he’s adapting his script, SMOKE, into a novel and taking us on his journey of delight. I’m proud of him, humbled to know him, and delighted to recommend him to all.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/johnrackham">@johnrackham</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> is a talented actor, writer, filmmaker, and runner. If you’re looking for a renaissance man who is humble and generous, look no more.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/theodorefisher">@theodorefisher</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> is a documentary filmmaker and photographer who blogs. His pictures are beautiful. Check them out: <a href="http://newyorkportraits.blogspot.com/"><span style="color: #002de5; text-decoration: none;">http://newyorkportraits.blogspot.com/</span></a></span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/indiemoviemaker">@indiemoviemaker</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> David is a filmmaker and actor who lends his support with or without a kilt (yes, he’s Scottish). He’s distributing his feature film MISSION X <a href="http://www.missionx.co.uk/"><span style="color: #002de5; text-decoration: none;">http://www.missionx.co.uk/</span></a> #stockingstufferpimpout</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/filmladd">@FilmLadd</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> tweets informative and funny. Check out his blog: <span style="color: #002de5; text-decoration: none;"><a href="http://laddehlingerjr.com/">http://laddehlingerjr.com/</a> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/cybeam1">@cybeam1</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> Indy filmmaker who tweets to keep us connected and learning. Check him out.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/jbmovies">@JBMovies</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> sweet, knowledgeable, hardworking filmmaker who is always there with a smile of support.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/tylerweaver">@tylerweaver</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"> </span>is one fine man with many talents, not only as a filmmaker but also in the nonprofit world. If you have a film project, he’s your man. Give him a call <a href="http://tyler-weaver.com/Welcome.html"><span style="color: #0027e8; text-decoration: none;">http://tyler-weaver.com/Welcome.html</span></a></span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/grking">@grking</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> is a NY-based filmmaker with a great blog. He spreads tweet love via his own #FF post. Check out who he loves <a href="http://grking.com/blog/"><span style="color: #0027e8;">http://grking.com/blog/</span></a><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/joshuascriptmag">@joshuascriptmag</a> <a href="http://twitter.com/joshuastecker">@joshuastecker</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> Yes, Joshua goes by two names…don’t we all have Sybil inside us (twitch, twitch)? West Coast Editor of Script Magazine, Joshua if full of knowledge, but don’t worry, he’s no boring journalist. He’ll spew fun in your feed under both personalities. </span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/philontilt">@Philontilt</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"> </span>organizer of EgoFest Short Film Festival. Don’t forget to watch the very fun short he directed, Honest Work <span style="color: #0027e8;"><a href="http://www.creativejinx.com/Creative_Jinx/Honest_Work.html">http://www.creativejinx.com/Creative_Jinx/Honest_Work.html</a></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: #0027e8;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/stoner43">@stoner 43</a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">Grant is a producer who graciously listened to a pitch @dawnbierschwal and I presented at Expo a few years back. Fun, helpful and a Chicago-lover. Oh... and he went to Sundance #jealous</span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: #0027e8;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0027e8;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1269089247040">@Joelsk_</a></span></b><a href="http://twitter.com/joelsk_"> </a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">Joel just became a finalist in </span><a href="http://www.tropfest.com/au/pressroom.aspx?articleid=161"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Tropfest 2010</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"> for his film FREQUENCY!!! Not only is Joel a talented filmmaker, he's a great artist... and has that twisted sense of humor I love. I'm trying to help Joel find a short to direct next, so @ me if you have one. Let's share our talents and rule the world - mwhahaha </span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0027e8; font-family: Arial;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/wackeychan">@wackeychan</a></span></b> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">By now, most of you know, I'm not reading anyone's f*cking script until I get my own written. So one day, I get a DM from @wackeychan asking me to check out his</span> <a href="http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/wackeychan/bring-solomon-grundy-to-life"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">student film project</span></a>. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">Yes, I sighed. Then I clicked .... because I am a pimp, after all. Wow. WOW! Mat is a 19-yr-old filmmaker who kicks it across the room. I'd bet my last fedora that he is one of the few who will make it. He will make it, and he will make it BIG. BUT, he needs our help</span> <a href="http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/wackeychan/bring-solomon-grundy-to-life/pledge/new"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">raising $10,000</span></a> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">to make his film. This pimp puts her money where her mouth is. I donated. Now its your turn #PIMPorders</span> </span></div></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial; font-weight: bold;"><a href="http://twitter.com/trigonis">@Trigonis</a> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-weight: normal;">a poet, filmmaker and pimp of his film CERISE. Check out his link, GIVE and support his dedication and talent: <a href="http://www.indiegogo.com/cerise">http://www.indiegogo.com/cerise</a> FYI, this pimp put her money where her mouth is and donated. I don't donate to just anything. Watch his clip and you'll be impressed too. He might even send you a personalized FB poem if you do ;) </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #9b42c2; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/robertamunroe">@robertamunroe</a> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-weight: normal;">rocks the house! I contacted her, very last minute, about appearing for our short film scriptchat, and this generous woman dug right in. She fielded tons of questions effortlessly and drank at least three martinis while doing it. Now that is talent! Her expertise in short filmmaking surpasses all. If you’re making a short, you need her. Plain and simple. Check out her site, her book, her lectures, and her consulting services here: <a href="http://www.robertamunroe.com/home.html">http://www.robertamunroe.com/home.html</a></span></span></b></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #9b42c2; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><b><br />
</b></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial;"><b><a href="http://twitter.com/allegrahuston">@allegrahuston</a> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-weight: normal;">There is no single category Allegra fits into, as she is an author, screenwriter and filmmaker all wrapped into one. My writing partner, Doug Blackmon, introduced us, and I’m happily holding her hand and guiding her through her Twitter ride. To say I’m delighted to have met her is by far, a pimp understatement. She’s clever, hysterically funny, and a great talent. Check out her site for info on her book, <i>Love Child</i>, her short film project GOOD LUCK, MR. GORSKI, as well as articles she’s written for wowowow.com. Allegra’s site: <a href="http://www.allegrahuston.com/">http://www.allegrahuston.com/</a></span></b></span></div></span><br />
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #9b42c2; font-size: 19px;">Comic book writer:</span></b></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #9b42c2; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><b><br />
</b></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial;"><b><a href="http://twitter.com/pulptone">@pulptone</a> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-weight: normal;">is a very talented graphic designer and comic book writer. I’ve had the pleasure of peeking at his work. Love it! We’re bringing him over to the dark side… screenwriting. Also, if you’re into history and war films, he’s your man. Check out his site: <a href="http://www.pulptone.com/">http://www.pulptone.com/</a></span></b></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><b><span style="color: #8a48c3; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt;">Novelists and bloggers alike:<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I found most of these writers doing #writechat on Sunday afternoons.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/cheekywench">@CheekyWench</a></span></span></b><b><span style="font-family: Arial;">, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/lights_aurora">@lights_aurora</a></span>, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/amiestuart">@amiestuart</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;">, and <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/yeah_write">@yeah_write</a></span></b> tweet everything from preferred liquor to serious writing information. They are unpredictable, but that’s why I love about having them in my tweet stream. If I’m down, they lift me up… every time. They are my vodka-drinking, cow-tipping comrades (*note: @yeah_write is also a screenwriter, see above and @amiestuart paints free-hand camo on her kids’ walls</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/gothicgoddess">@gothhicgoddess</a></span></span></b><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1269089247076">@AssassinGrl</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><a href="http://twitter.com/assassingrl"> </a>deserve a follow not only for their tweets but also because they thought of these cool names before I did *hangs head in shame*</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/aspiringmama">@aspiringmama</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> has a blog I visit often. She’s currently running an essay contest on it. She is “aspiring” but also inspiring.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/piaveleno">@PiaVeleno</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> has a great Crank blog, writes often, and even wants to learn Italian. She speaks her mind… my favorite kind of person.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/randomoenophile">@RandomOenophile</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial;">writes fiction and is our wine expert. I’ve learned much from her about the grapes. I look forward to watching her writing career soar.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/karenquah">@karenquah</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> has a FANTASTIC blog! She is by far one of the best writers I have run across in Twitterland. Her words move me every time, plus she has a sense of humor unmatched. There are many layers to this woman, so enjoy! She's also in the screenwriter section above... I love her so much, I listed her twice.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/tomyhowe">@TomYHowe</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> – my poet. When I want to unwind, I grab a glass of wine and read his stream. Beautiful.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/mindofbryan">@mindofbryan</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> has many talents. He helps @aspiringmama with her web issues, he writes, he offers fantastic advice and encouragement to everyone on #writechat, and he’s just an interesting guy. I respect him and his words.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/tenderprey">@tenderprey</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> I admit, I started following her because her avatar was beautiful. She was one of the very first writers I met on #writechat. I really can’t remember exactly how we started chatting, but no matter. I enjoy her words, her advice to others, and her dedication to her craft.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/jhtatroe">@jhtatroe</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> is also an early #writechat find. Again, it was not only the beautiful, thought-provoking avatar, but her voice that made me @ her. I often watch her stream and wish for such discipline. She'd dedicated and fiercely supportive of her fellow writers. I don't often @ her, but she inspires me from afar.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/natashahollerup">@Natashahollerup</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> is a writer, student and beautiful human being. Follow her and treat her well… or you’ll have to answer to me #protectivetweetermom</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/trishmccallan">@TrishMcCallan</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> is a suspense and romance novelist, crazy pet owner and very supportive of all her writer followers.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/thrillerchick">@thrillerchick</a></span></span><span style="color: #81ef1c; font-family: Arial;"> </span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;">is the one and only Bestselling author, J.T. Ellison. I met her via my blog post on my friend who died of ALS. She @’d me, and we’ve been fast and furious friends since. Her generosity and support motivates me to keep writing… and reading. Her books are fantastic! </span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p><a href="http://www.jtellison.com/jt-ellison-front-page/">http://www.jtellison.com/jt-ellison-front-page/</a> </o:p></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/donna_carrick">@Donna_Carrick</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> and <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/alex_carrick">@Alex_Carrick</a></span></b> A couple who tweets and writes together, stays together. Very fun follows with a vast amount of information to share both on #writechat and #scriptchat. I love that they crossed over to learn about screenwriters from screenwriters. It speaks volumes of their bravery : )</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/auntsuger">@AuntSuger</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> and <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><b><a href="http://twitter.com/jordandrew">@JordanDrew</a></b></span> must be followed together for the most laughs. Very fun. I’d like to think they’re drunk all the time, but alas, they are funny</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/official92">@official92</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> is one supportive writer, daily recommending others to follow. Love it when a peep works hard to connect others. Generosity is attractive.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/pennyash">@PennyAsh</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"> </span>is possibly one of the writers I respect most. She not only writes with discipline, but she also generously shares her learning with others and lends support. What I love most about her though is how fearlessly she is making the leap into screenwriting. See her genius on #writechat on #scripchat. One. Humble. Talented. Human.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/georgia_mcbride">@Georgia_McBride</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"> </span>is the moderator of #YAlitchat on Wednesday nights, 9pm EST. Very wise, generous, informative writer who tweets fun too. I guarantee you will learn… and laugh.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/jorence">@jorence</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> Jose warms my soul. Not only is he a writer and photographer, he’s also a generous, supportive chap who eats cake with the glee of a kid.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/jdistraction">@jdistraction</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> wonderfully supportive writer who claims to be shy, but don’t believe her. She’s always there when you need a hand.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/jmartinlibrary">@jmartinlibrary</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> the girl buried behind that stack of books is worth digging through for. Always quick-witted and entertaining. Love her… and she’s a Beatle’s fan.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/monicaemme">@MonicaEmme</a> </span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;">is a wonderfully supportive writer who participates in the writer chats and even pops into scriptchat on Sundays (see how I weave in scriptchat pimps heehee). Don’t you dare complain about how cold it is… this chick lives in Alaska where its colder than witches tit…or at least that’s what her blog says: <a href="http://analaskangirl.blogspot.com/"><span style="color: #0027e8; text-decoration: none;">http://analaskangirl.blogspot.com/</span></a> </span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/lukeromyn">@LukeRomyn</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> is my dark-hearted, bitter fave (along with <b>@ambigfoot</b>) who tweets raw and is a great self-pimper. He pimps so well, I even bought his horror thriller, <i>Dark Path</i>, and I have never read a horror book in my life. Check him out, but you might need Twiagra to keep up <a href="http://www.lukeromyn.host56.com/"><span style="color: #0027e8;">http://www.lukeromyn.host56.com/</span></a></span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1269089247187">@</a></span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/ceebee308">ceebee308</a></span></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> you can’t follow @LukeRomyn without following his fellow ball buster @ceebee308. Great humor and wit spew from these two. Plus I like to imagine his sarcasm with a great French accent. Check out Claude’s site and books <span style="color: #535353;"> <a href="http://bigceebee.webs.com/"><span style="color: #0027e8;">http://bigceebee.webs.com/</span></a><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/dlschubert">@dlschubert</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> YA and Women’s Fiction writer, Debra adds humor and chocolate love to my feed. Always supportive, you’ll be thrilled to have found her… as am I.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/loripop326">@loripop326</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> sarcastic, fun, quick-witted. Her blog is fantastic! Writes naked. <a href="http://shesawake.blogspot.com/">http://shesawake.blogspot.com/</a><o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/betawolfkid">@betawolfkid</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> Marie is new to Twitter and the wife of a dear friend. A talented writer living in Milan and writing her first novel, she needs our support. Jump on her feed and her brilliance will shine.</span></div></div><br />
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #9b42c2; font-size: 19px; font-weight: bold;">Multi-hyphenates:</span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial;"><b><br />
</b></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial;"><b><a href="http://twitter.com/iscamedia">@iscamedia</a> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: Times; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">is an international group of filmmakers, photographers, writers and journalists who are on their way to media world domination! Check out their creations: </span><b><span style="color: #b31b1a; font-family: Arial;"><a href="http://twitter.com/iwalkiwrite">@iwalkiwrite</a></span></b><b><span style="font-family: Arial;">,<span style="color: #b31b1a;"> <a href="http://twitter.com/makingmemag">@makingmemag</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;">, and<b><span style="color: #b31b1a;"> <a href="http://twitter.com/filmandfly">@filmandfly</a></span></b><span style="color: #b31b1a;"> </span>Trust me, they are a giant step ahead of the industry… follow and be marveled by the talent and forward thinking.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000; font-weight: bold;"> </span></span></span></b></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial;"><b><br />
</b></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial;"><b><a href="http://twitter.com/multihyphenate">@multihyphenate</a> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-weight: normal;">blogazine is the brainchild of @tylerweaver and his incredible talent. The site is packed with articles by filmmakers, writers, comic book creators, photographers, musicians, marketers and all who are creatively forging into the world that is media insanity. Fantastic site. Check it out: <a href="http://multihyphenate.blogspot.com/2010/01/all-new-all-different-all-hyphenated.html">http://multihyphenate.blogspot.com/2010/01/all-new-all-different-all-hyphenated.html</a></span></b></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><b><span style="color: #9b42c2; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt;">Tech:<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Recently I had some tech issues, and these peeps came to my rescue:</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/jfinley">@jfinley</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> knows tech, films, and music. We had a DJ-off one... ok, maybe more than one... night that had me dancing around my office.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/artqwu">@artqwu</a></span></span><span style="color: #81ef1c; font-family: Arial;"> </span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;">I have known for 20 years…did you hear that, Art? 20 YEARS! He has given me tech support and more emotional support than I could possibly say. We have laughed together, and he’s held me while I cried. I went to see When Harry Met Sally with him. I’ll never forget it. He is one of my dearest friends. Oh, at one of the Halloween parties we went to, he was dressed as a dog and I was his fire hydrant. Need I say more.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/cmhoughton">@cmhoughton</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> has amazing tech knowledge but also reviews Smallville <a href="http://www.kryptonsite.com/triplet.htm"><span style="color: #002de5; text-decoration: none;">http://www.kryptonsite.com/triplet.htm</span></a> Very supportive find.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><b><span style="color: #9b42c2; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt;">Poets:</span></b><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/chainofwords">@ChainOfWords</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;">, <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/ruinedxfinery">@ruinedXfinery</a></span></b> and <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/acrichards">@acrichards</a></span></b> (who writes & rocks out in her music tweets) need to be followed together. I love their voices. What they do in 140 will amaze you. Beautiful.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/speaksbeliefs">@SpeaksBeliefs</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> I. Love. Him. Sometimes I simply watch his feed go by and shake my head in amazement. His #sixwordstories skill marvels. A man who is strong, humble, proud, and full of love for his little girl. My respect for him is enormous. <a href="http://speaksbeliefs.com/"><span style="color: #002de5; text-decoration: none;">http://speaksbeliefs.com/</span></a></span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/wookiesgirl">@WookiesGirl</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"> has no filter. I love that. She’s a smart, dirty poet girl who celebrates Boobie Wednesday with a weekly provocative avatar. Gotta dig a woman who puts herself out there. Her poetry is found on one of her many blogs. Check this one out: <a href="http://magicmagnifyingmind.blogspot.com/"><span style="color: #332378; text-decoration: none;">http://magicmagnifyingmind.blogspot.com/</span></a> Of course, an adult content warning. Would you expect anything less?</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/ruinedXfinery">@ruinedXfinery</a></span></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;">, also known as <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://twitter.com/ruinedfinery">@ruinedfinery</a></span></b>. When I first met her, she warned me most unfollow her after a short while because she’s unfiltered. Upon hearing that, I knew I’d nev there’s er unfollow her. She’s a gem. Don’t let her unfiltered tweets fool you… she’s a very gifted writer. Follow, sit back and be amazed. I should mention, her stripper name is Babydollnipplepielambchopkittensugargirl. If you want your own stripper name, just ask, she’ll give you one. She claims to not be a writer…I disagree… she’s a beautiful poet. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Jeanne Veillette Bowermanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07693112521911135141noreply@blogger.com22