April First for Fun -- by KittyCat

ME -- KittyCat Simpson, a handsome tuxedo cat

The picture is me in Mom’s rock garden one year in March. I think what’s neat about rock gardens is all the different critters you can find under the rocks. One time I collected some so I could play a good April fool’s joke on Snook.

See, Snook stays in nearly all the time cuz she can’t climb a tree if a dog chases her. I heard Mom say that’s cuz a doctor took out Snook’s claws when she was a kitten. But Snook says she stays indoors because (and she gives me her uppity look when she says it) “outdoor cats are flea-infested.” And she usually adds something about how I was an outdoor cat before I got adopted.

“Well, I don’t got no fleas!” I said, real miffed, the first time she talked about stray cats and sick and nasty stuff they spread around.

“Obviously,” Snob replied. “You reek” (oh, that means smell bad) “of flea repellent.” (That is flea go-away stuff.)

I’ll say this for being around Snook, when she’s hateful, I learn lots of new words.

Anyhow, Snook had been staying with us--I forget how long, but too long for me to put up with her put downs. Besides, a guy's gotta have fun for April first fool's day, right? That March day, it was sunny and real warm—good weather for hatching flea eggs, I figured. I went out looking for some critters to bring back and put on Snookie’s pillow. I got excited thinking what fun it would be. I couldn’t wait to hear it: “Oh, no! Gracious! Mercy! A flea...A-h-h!!! Two fleas!”

I figured her high-pitched, I’m in distress meows would bring Mom running, but by that time the fleas would have hopped on Snook and would be all comfy in their new digs. In zip time Mom would know precious Snookie was a flea bag.

Think of it—a pedigreed flea bag! Does that tickle your whiskers, or what?

I haven’t come up with any April first jokes this year, and guess I won’t cuz it’s on a Sunday. But I got an early one played on me. “Doggie” is still around. I guess she wasn’t hauled off to jail, cuz it would cost a bundle to spring her. But somebody did fork out a few bucks for her. When she’s out now, it's mostly with people, and she's wearing a collar and leash.

Ha, ha. I can still have fun on Sunday. When Doggie comes walking down the street, pulling at her new leash, I can sit in the rock garden and watch her bark at me from the sidewalk.

(c) 2012, Bernice W. Simpson

Robert Benchley Society "Humor Writing Competition"

PS: OK, it's backwards. Who starts communicating with a "post script?" I found this Robert Benchley Society page on a rabbit trail when looking at/for contests. I don't know if I should bill the organization for advertising, or hope I don't find myself cited for plaguerism for copying it without premission. But I couldn't resist, especially since PPW is not sponsering an adult contest this year. What really pulled me in was the word "Benchleyesque," and the contest due date: April 1. But this is not an April Fools joke. And it's worth the read, just to discover a set of rules Texas mavericks can enjoy.  

ROBERT BENCHLEY SOCIETY 2012 HUMOR WRITING COMPETITION OFFICIAL RULES AND DEADLINES Entries may be submitted by e-mail, on or before APRIL 1, 2012 and MUST FOLLOW THE ELECTRONIC SUBMISSION PROCEDURE as below in item 3. 1. Entry Requirement Entries must be: Original; Benchleyesque (in the sense of reflecting the Benchley style and humor); Not more than 500 words in length (times height times width); In the English language, such as it is these days; Accompanied by the $10 entry fee. Entries are limited to one per person. Submission of an entry to the competition grants the Robert Benchley Society permission to publish the entry on the Society's website and online newsletter. All other rights are retained by the author. 2. Judging Rules All judging will be done in accordance with WBC rules: There is no standing 8 count and no 3 knockdown rule; Fighter can be saved by the bell in the last round only; A 10 point must system is in effect; Accidental head butt goes to the scorecard after the fourth round. None of the above; Officers and family members of officers of the National RBS, and judges are excluded; The top four finalist entries will be ranked 1st, 2nd, 3rd and 4th by ARTE JOHNSON. Winners will be announced in JUNE, 2012, by the Robert Benchley Society. 3. Required Electronic Submission Procedure Entries must be accompanied by $10 entry fee, payable through PayPal, which funds will be used by the Society exclusively to cover the costs associated with the competition, to buy the plaque(s) and other insignificant prizes for the winner(s) and, so far as possible, pay for the cost of the first-place winner attending the Annual Gathering and Award Ceremony. Entries must be in MS Word or HTML format attached to an e-mail message with no identifying information (such as name, address, etc.) in the entry. The entrant's name, address, and phone number must be in the body of the e-mail message. To enter click on the PayPal Buy Now button below. After making your payment you will be automatically redirected to a page from which you may submit your entry. If not automatically redirected, click on "Return to Merchant" button.

RETURN TO ROBERT BENCHLEY SOCIETY

Ellen Richardson: Cherished

Ellen Richardson - 1928 to 2012

"You had to have been there." The expression, which for some carries negative connotations, interrupted my thoughts this week, but they were positive reflections. It happened when anecdotes concerning Ellen Richardson and her husband, Jim, chased away grief, replacing gloomy emotions with pleasant memories. They were the kind of stories friends relate conversationally over coffee and dessert. How do I share a personal sense of Ellen with you who didn't know her? Half of you were not even born when she and I first met in 1966.

I can't. You have to be here, or somehow be connected to Panhandle Professional Writers. For years, Ellen was an active PPW member, always striving to upgrade programs and steer the group to professional goals. Ellen, along with a core of dedicated women, turned a local writers' club into a strong, regional organization.

But certain area writers today cherish her for the work she did that carried no board title, accorded her no public accolades, and certainly no financial gain.

When Ellen discovered a hint of writing talent in people, she encouraged it. She whittled away her prospect's self-doubts until they were replaced by confidence. Then she tuned mentor: she nurtured and challenged. Once when I expressed dissatisfaction with my progress, she said," There is nothing wrong with a goal of excellence, so long as you give your efforts the recognition they deserve, and don't kick barriers so hard, you break a bone." If that quotation from 1999 is inexact, it is close.

Later, my remarkable friend, who epitomized the drive for excellence, experienced career-smashing barriers--health issues that included a stroke. With a good half of her life forgotten, she continued to be an encouraging friend, and where it concerned those she loved, she exhibited her persevering spirit. When doctors suggested Jim, her husband of sixty-plus years should go to MD Anderson Cancer Center for medical treatment, Ellen, by then frail, was determined to accompany him. "Where he goes, I go," she said.

And now she has.

Ellen Richardson, but for a lifetime of health problems, might have been a political force in Amarillo or Austin. But Ellen still left a legacy beyond her loving influence on her family and close friends. We who enjoy the benefits of Panhandle Professional Writers have the opportunity to be living memorials to Ellen Lucille Richardson: we can encourage talent and dreams, and share our knowledge. And those who are able to truly emulate Ellen, can do it with friendliness, sophistication, professionalism, and a sense of humor.

(c) 2012, Bernice Simpson

It's Spring -- by KittyCat

I missed writing yesterday, but that's OK, cuz I heard today is special--the first day of spring.

But I don't understand how one day it's winter and the next day it's spring, just because somebody printed it real tiny on the calendar. It's been spring around here for weeks. I know cuz our neighbor's tree got its branches decorated with pretty white flowers. A bunch blew off, but it's still pretty. Now you can see just a bit of white between new green leaves. That's what says it's spring--trees, grass, daffodils and such start putting color all over the place.

Our yard isn't nice and green like the yards on Julian Boulevard. But we do have bare patches that I get to roll in. I also like how our yard is dotted with yellow flowers called dandelions. Mom told Dad to get rid of them. Dad said he figured she'd want to dig them up and put them in our garden spot. He reminded her about a package of mixed greens she bought for supper last winter. "Dandelion leaves right on the front label," he said.

I was looking at one then the other during that conversation, and I'm real glad about Sunday's note in tiny print on the calendar, "Daylight Savings Time Begins." That means I can be outside later now cuz it won't get dark so soon. That means it will still be daylight when Mom makes supper tonight, and I plan to be outside when she sets out Dad's salad plate.

(c) 2012, Bernice W. Simpson

Color Crazy

A short story by Joyce Carol Oates contained an indelible metaphor. She compared the sky’s appearance to that of soiled sheets. Ms Oates has a knack for colorful description. On one page a metaphor fills the reader’s mind with a string of colors, like all the disgusting discoloration of filthy, stained bedsheets. On another, she will name the color itself, and with that one word brighten or darken the mood of an entire scene.   

How many such words can be dabbed on a writer’s palette? According to a sticky note in my flip dictionary, 267 colors in the United States of America, have official names set by the National Bureau of Standards. Strange how information generates more questions: is azure, aka sky-blue or cerulean, the same in all English speaking countries, or do the Aussies and Brits have their own special word to depict the sky on a pleasant day?

How many color-related words do you own? The following is a list of words that either name or relate to color. Print it so you can put a smiley face beside those you recognize, and take a second look at those you don’t. Chances are, words once studied, will grab your attention if you meet them again. And you might memorize a few for the next time a ten-year-old challenges you to a game of hangman.

1.   Albinism (denotes a condition marked by a deficiency in pigmentation; adj: albinic)

2. Anthocyanins (red, to purple pigments in fruits and flowers; also fruits and vegetables so colored)

3. Aposematic (or warning coloration describes defensive coloration of certain animals that makes them look poisonous to prey)

4. Atramentous, atramental (inky; black as ink)

5. Atroceruleous (adj., n. describes or having a deep blue-black color or the color itself.

6. Atrous (intensely black; substitute it for “black as coal”)

7. Bisque, bisk (color name for a color of a creamed soup; also the soup; name of an ice cream)

8. Bister (grayish to yellowish brown; adj.: bistered)

9. Carotene, carotin (yellow to orange plant pigment, especially carrots, used by the liver to make vitamin A.

10. Cerise (cherry-red)

11. Cerulean (sky-blue, azure)

12. Chartreuse (color of yellowish-green; proper noun: a type of liquor)

13. Chlorophyll, chlorophyl (green pigment plants use to produce nutrients through photosynthesis.

14. Chromatics (n. takes singular verb: the study or science of color; also chromatology)

15. Chromatophores (of squids, cuttlefish and others, cells, containing tiny melanin particles, that can change in size, thus giving the animal a change in color.)

16. Colorway (range or set of colors, as colors available for a certain product, as car, garments, etc.)

17. Cyan (deep greenish blue)

18. Cyanic (blue or bluish or greenish-blue color)

19. Cyanopathic (cyanosis)

20. Cyanosis (condition in which skin takes on a bluish tinge due to lack of oxygen in blood. Adj: cyanotic)

21. Dun (drab grayish brown; also a horse of a dun color; adj.: drab, dull, gloomy)

22. Etiolate (to become pale, as plant growing without enough sunlight)

23. Fuchsin ( a substance used to make fuchsia or magenta, a dark pink-red purplish color.)

24. Gamboge (yellow or maize -colored pigment obtained from the resin of an Asian tree)

25. Gilding (an attractive finish; veneer; golden covering or paint)

26. Griseous (grayish, mottled or streaked or grissled with gray, )

27. Grizzled (to make gray, to become gray, adj: gray, roan)

28. Grizzly (grayish or flecked with gray)

29. Hoary (gray or white, as if with age, also ancient.)

30. Iridescent (like shimmering light of a rainbow or shining through a prism)

31. Livid (color of bruise, ashen, unnaturally pale, bluish; also means anger)

32. Lividity (state of being livid)

33. Loden (flat or dull grayish-green; also a textile used for outerwear)

34. Local color (particular features of a place or region, usu that make it interesting)

35. Magenta (a coal-tar dye fuchsin; purplish red, dark reddish purple, after battle of Magenta, Italy)

36. Matte (describes a finish or color that is not glossy or lustrous; in paints, synonymous with flat).

37. Melanin (pigment in human and animal skin, hair and eyes; also present in plants)

38. Maize (light yellow to yellow-orange)

39. Mulberry (dark grayish purple)

40. Murrey (mulberry or grayish purple to purplish black)

41. Nuance (slight or subtle differences in color shades)

42. Ocher (an earthen substance used to make pigments; as a color deep yellow to yellowish-orange

43. Opaque (also described as dense, a surface or material a person cannot see through; Ant: transparent)

44. Pavonine (resembling a peacock, esp tail or colors, design or iridescence of tail)

45. Primary colors (red, green, blue—main colors from which all other colors can be made.)

46. Puce (dark red to purplish brown)

47. Reseda (grayish green color)

48. Roan (generally describes the hair or coat of animals—dogs, horses, cattle in which white hair is interspersed with a base color, but unlike humans, the base color doesn't gray with age) 

49. Rubescent (turning red or reddish, as in blushing)

50. Rufus (a shade of red; also a given or Christian name)

51. Sable (black; also a mammal or its fur; also, adj., a coat of sable fur)

52. Sallow (unnaturally yellow or pale yellowish; is also a tree)

53. Sepia (medium brown to dark greenish brown; also “ink” secreted by the cuttlefish)

54. Sloe-eyed (very dark eyes or almond-shaped eyes; sloe gin is flavored with sloes, a blue-black fruit)

55. Sorrel (reddish brown; also a reddish brown horse; also a plant)

56. Stramineous (of or like straw; straw colored)

57. Tawny (tanned, light brown, sandy color)

58. Vermilion (a bright orange-red)

59. Vivid (adj. describes a strong color; also sharp or intense memory, dream, and so forth)

60. Wan (generally, weak or sickly, therefore, pallid, pale, ashen, whitish, anemic)

Note: Word descriptions here are brief. For complete definitions, consult a dictionary. 

(c) 2012, Bernice W. Simpson

The Bloody Business of Writing -- by Mike Akins

“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.” –Ernest Hemingway

Writing is a bloody business. There are no two ways about it. The business of pounding out words on a page is not for the squeamish or faint of heart. There are far easier ways to get your artistic fix: juggling chainsaws, training killer whales, painting graffiti on busy highway overpasses. But if the epic muse refuses to be silent, then be prepared to bleed.

The best art reaches down into the soul, lifting you to untrammeled heights or knocking you to your knees with an emotional kidney punch. Maybe you were one of those kids who cried when Charlotte (of Charlotte’s web) died, or when Travis had to shoot Old Yeller. If so, you identified powerfully with those moments precisely because you invested in those characters throughout the course of the story. You invested so much that the character’s triumph brought you to your feet, or the character’s loss brought you to tears.

Before any of those stories ever wormed their way into your heart, someone else was cheering or crying for those characters. Someone else was riding that emotional roller coaster to make sure it lived up to its billing. That someone was the writer.

One bit of writerly advice I hear often is “Write what you know.” For me, this is not so much about what I know as about what I’ve experienced. My own emotional experiences are a rich source for the creation of memorable characters. If I draw on the poignant moments of my life and recreate them in the stories I write, then chances are many, if not most, readers will be able to connect to those moments as well.

I have to remember that emotional experiences are not unique to me. There are plenty of people who are stirred by the very same things that move me. Those are the people I’m trying to reach. If I’m successful, those people will become my loyal readers.

All it requires is the willingness to look at my own life and the courage to explore those aspects of my life on the written page. Some of the best fiction is autobiographical. If I’m not afraid to bleed a little  (or maybe a lot); if I can tap into that emotional reservoir and give my characters honest-to-goodness beating hearts, then maybe I’ll have a story that, at the end, has my reader reaching for a box of tissues, and then reaching for the phone as she calls her friends and tells them about the great book she just finished.

–Mike Akins

Mike Akins is a thirty year student of RyuTe^© Karate, a member of the Amarillo Master Chorale, a composer and pianist, an amateur painter, old movie buff, avid Words with Friends^® player, computer programmer, science enthusiast, and an aspiring writer (should he ever string enough quality sentences together to be worthy of that label).

(c) 2012, Mike Akins

I Changed my Mind -- by KittyCat

We have two alleys. One, the alley to our side of the street, runs behind the house. Another one is beside our house, cuz the houses in front of it, really big houses, are Julian Boulevard houses. Ya, it's "boulevard," not plain old street. Julian Boulevard gets two whole roads going in different directions, with a park between them. Most  the people are real nice, but some are worse snobs than Soook. She lives, ... oh, excuse me, resides, on Julian Boulevard.

I haven't seen "Doggie" all week. I'll bet she pooped on a Julian Boulevard neighbor's grass and got herself arrested by the animal police. If dogs are gonna poop in Julian Boulevard yards, they should take a lesson from cats--cover their pies. And you'd think they'd learn the guys in that white truck aren't trying to catch them so they can show off in a fancy dog show.

Mom wouldn't call the police on a dog with bad manners. But she mostly wears jeans. The big house people are usually in suits. What if someone stepped it a pie and got their shoes dirty, or slipped on it and got... ha, ha, they wouldn't look too spiffy, and for sure, they'd smell worse.

Even before I noticed the dog gone, I decided not to run away. I was headed for Lubbock, Texas, where there's a hot little number named L'il Bit. But I heard cuz Texas is so dry right now, the rattlers have gobbled up mice like crazy, and what they don't get, the coyotes do. Besides, I might die of thirst before I got hungry--the deer and antelope lap up all the water they can find. On top of that, some of the wild grass is so dry and stiff, it can cut you. To make it worse, some plants grab your fur. They have stickers that hang on to the fur between your toes, and it hurts like crazy. I know, cuz I got into them once in our alley.

Another reason to stay: Snook, Mom's "precious niece kitty," was ready to horn in and take over my house. I was out checking to see if that dog was really gone when Aunt Pen, wanting to clean house, dropped Snook off here for the afternoon. I saw Auntie's car and raced into the house. Too late. Snook had already found the good-buy blog I was writing. She put a PS on it toward the bottom of the page. I guess she figured I wouldn't see it after she moved the page back to where I had it. She wrote:

"PS.": Undoubtedly KittyCat said he was "red faced" last week because he couldn't think of, much less spell embarrassed. Also you can guess his book of "pomes" requires more editing than the correction of one misspelled word." And she went on and on.

One of these days I'll get a runny nose at just the right time, and I'll blow snot all over her. Ha, ha, instead of being Snobby Snook, she'll be Snotty Snook. Then who will be red faced? Oh, guess that's embarrassed.

(c) 2012, Bernice W. Simpson

Writing Conferences: Your chance to pitch

Daylight Saving Time. Although it's not yet spring officially, DST reminds us that summer days are just ahead. As you changed your clocks this weekend, did that activity signal "time to plan for summer?"

Writers conferences and summer go together like symphony galas and winter. For writers, especially those who need a push to finish a project, the thought of an upcoming conference is as welcoming as spring's first buds.  Perhaps looking forward to an exciting event is all the impetus you need to complete your book.

Imagine the opening social. Imagine conversing with an established author, who, like you, decided to write for publication, set goals,and invested in them. You can relate to the author who persevered and made it. Imagine that well-known author's blurb on the back cover of your book. What if that author invites you to rehearse your pitch to his or her empathetic ear before you must jump in with the real thing to an agent or publisher the next day?

The pitch. That's often the main reason authors attend a conference. The pitch is one of the most important pages of writing you'll ever do. Now is the time to prepare the pitch: to write it, read it, time it, polish it, memorize it, and then rehearse it until your two-minute speech sounds natural.

Perhaps you are months behind on the schedule you set for yourself, and have noting to pitch. If that's the case, and your writing group is hosting an annual workshop, plan to pitch in. It's your chance to make friends with members you're barely acquainted with. It's your chance to be a friend to the committee that has worked on behalf of your organization to make the event a success.

Years ago, a writer told me, "if you have nothing to pitch, you're spending money on a glorified pep rally. That's a good enough point--if you don't like pep rallies. Glancing back to school days, however, if you weren't part of the "in crowd," here's your chance to be a cheer leader.

-  -  -  -  -

Panhandle Professional Writers hosts an annual weekend conference, Frontiers in Writing. Unlike that of previous years, 2012's Frontiers in Writing will not feature agents or publishers in its speakers' line-up. With self-publishing a growing option for writers, this year's emphasis is on learning. Regardless of how authors plan to publish their work, Frontiers in Writing will help them produce well-crafted prose or poetry, and offer information on copyright law and the publishing industry.

For information of the June 29-30 conference, see Panhandle Professional Writers' website www.panhandleprowriters.org.

(c) 2012, Bernice W. Simpson

Sonja Gross: a tribute to her mother

“Normally I love roller coasters,” Sonja begins in her latest blog http://hoppinthoughts.blogspot.com, but in comparing her life to a roller coaster, she says she is ready for less twists and turns than she has experienced this past year.

Sonja Gross on a roller coaster? Yes, but she referred more to her exhilaration than the sudden dives after climbs to ever higher peaks. This week two events mark the beginning of her most recent climb: Sonja was named as a 2012 Woman to Watch by Texas Business Women of Amarillo, and today as Amarillo’s Community Relations Coordinator, she begins a new job.

Sonja, who credits her mother for the recognition and success she has earned, gave me permission to share part of her mother’s story in my blog. The following is from Sonja’s speech, The Wind beneath My Wings.   

"The reason my mother is “The Wind Beneath My Wings” from a career standpoint, has a lot to do with my father. In 1976, my dad left a career as a truck driver in Iowa and moved the family to Atlanta, Georgia where he was promised a management job with Harper Brush Company. I was only 7 years old and I remember my mom selling most of the family belongings in a yard sale. So, when we got to Georgia, we didn’t have much—I remember sleeping on mattresses laid out on the floor.

'A full framed bed wasn’t the only thing we didn’t have. That job my dad was promised didn’t turn out as expected. As a result, my dad, along with a lot of help from my mother, stated Commercial Broom Supply, a janitorial service and supply company. They really struggled at first, but with everyone pitching in, especially my mom, they somehow made it work. My mom handled the bookwork duties, made mops using a dangerous machine with sharp wires and even sold brooms on the sidewalks in downtown Atlanta.

'When the computer age really took over the workplace in the early 80’s, my mom bought an IBM PC Junior against my dad’s will and taught herself everything about it. She learned how to design an accounting program for the company and later learned the ins and outs of QuickBooks. She did all of this and more on top of cleaning buildings at night, apartments during the day and raising a family, to boot.

'Those are just some of the reasons my mother is “The Wind Beneath My Wings.” The number one reason my mom is “The Wind Beneath My Wings,” though, is that she taught me how to work. She taught me that, like her, I could learn how to do so many things on my own—be self-sufficient. She instilled in me a work ethic, a sense of self-worth and a great sense of humor.

'For those reasons, and more, I will be eternally grateful to my mother as she is 'The Wind Beneath My Wings.'”

Learn more about Sonja on her blog: http://hoppinthoughts.blogspot.com

Below (on the left) is Sonja’s mother with Sonja’s older brother and sister making mops.

Still Cogitating -- by KittyCat

Mom said the crocus flower is Manitoba’s flower, and it’s tough. I believe that. Last week, I flattened a bunch of those flowers in front of the house cuz I was mad at Mom. By the time I sat on the last one, the first clump was standing up again. What I got for all that work was a tired-all-over feeling. I jumped up into a plant container where passing dogs wouldn’t see me stretched out there—the perfect place to plan my runaway trip.

Except for the odd can rolling in the street, or plastic bags flapping against tree branches, it was real quiet. In a few minutes, cars driving past our house sounded like they were on nearby street, and then on blocks far away.

Yikes! I woke up shivering, not from the cold, but from the loud bark of a dog. He’s come down to our place before, and bothered me when I was in my chair on the porch. I guess he could see Mom through the window so didn't come real close. That time I stood up, looking like a mean Halloween cat. He kept barking, but did back up. This time, he was a foot from the planter, and could easily reach the top of it with his front paws. If I ran, he could catch me. If I tried to leap to the porch, he could get me as I stood and turned to spring.

“Listen, doggie, you’re being naughty.” It was Mom’s voice.

Suddenly, I was my fierce self--an African cat who could scare a pack of hyenas with a half growl. I stood and hissed while the beast bounded after a piece of chicken Mom threw across the lawn. Of course I intended to outrun the brute, and grab the chicken, but Mom had a treat-sized piece for me in her hand. Mom picked me up. “Doggie” had wolfed down the chicken before we reached the front door. Mom threw another piece in Doggie’s direction, and still holding me, opened the door and went in the house.

Fuming, I had to come up with a plot. Before I run away, I gotta teach Doggie a lesson. He wrecked my runaway plans (well, my almost plans). He downed a chicken breast in two gulps—more chicken than I've had in my whole life. But the most unforgivable is he left me red-faced (except it didn't show under my fur). What great savanna cat wants to be rescued by a puny human? It was my mom, a graying granny, right in the front yard where the whole neighborhood, including Doggie, could see and wag about it.

(c) 2012, Bernice W. Simpson

Your Time to Shine: Appropriate Attire When Marketing Your Book

Are you ready to take center stage?  When a publisher accepts your book, you must move into the spotlight. Perhaps spotlight is a bit dramatic, but you will leave your computer for a more public arena to market your masterpiece.

Marketing is business. While writing in your faded jeans or discount store cotton flannels, did you forget the term business dress? What will you wear to your signings, presentations, and other events? Does it matter?

Yes. Your clothing makes a statement about you. What do you want it to say? For example, what do jeans say?  Jeans match a western author’s genre, or how-to books on hunting or fishing. But if jeans don’t somehow tie into the book’s subject, they could send this message: “I’m not a business professional, and after all, it’s Saturday afternoon.”  

Treat all forms of publicity like a job, and remember the cliché: “dress for the job you want.” A civic club’s program chair could pick up your card from the signing table. A pressed shirt, creased pants, and polished shoes tell him or her you will not show up at their lunch meeting in athletic shoes and a tee-shirt removed from the dryer after wrinkles have set. Of course, when that program chair calls you, it’s still smart to ask questions about what their speakers usually wear.

In preparation for a talk, questions concerning appropriate dress are as important as learning about the microphones and other needed equipment at the meeting site. But the answers you receive may be incorrect. A group’s membership may be large, but their all-volunteer board can change from year to year. If a spokesperson tells you casual dress is fine, what exactly does that mean? And do that person’s standards reflect the membership at large?

At the Saturday meetings of the Panhandle Professional Writers, for example, probably half in attendance wear the Texas weekend uniform—jeans and a casual shirt. Chris Stewart, a copyright attorney who has spoken at several meetings, always arrives in business dress—a dark suit, light-colored dress shirt, tie, and dark lace-up shoes. Conversely, the attire of a recent speaker fit right in—neat enough, clean-looking, but ultra casual. She delivered an excellent workshop; nonetheless, certain members expect a level of professionalism that at least includes what is known in the business world as business casual. For some the perception of super casual translates to a lack of respect.

When speaking to a group, conservative dress is a wise choice. Women have more latitude than men.  They can choose between a knee-length skirt or slacks, and often pantsuit or pants worn with a classy sweater set. But women must be careful not to fall into a fashion trap. Ruffles, a tight fit, or low-cut necklines, send the wrong message.  Also, women should be aware of what distracts their audience. You want listeners to remember you, not your swinging necklace, floating fabric, or sequined material.

According to studies by Dr. Albert Mehrabian at UCLA, nonverbal communication is more important than our words. What that means to you: what you wear helps you sell yourself, which helps you sell your books. And that's what you want, isn't it?

(c) 2012, Bernice W. Simpson

Write Your Story

She’s a quiet, gentle person—a single mom who puts in overtime to pay for extras, like a trip to visit her married daughter.

Since school days, she has written poetry and short stories, but never her story.

The settings in her story include a houseboat and a private island. How's this for exuberant moments? A swim—with a dolphin—in the Mediterranean. Speaking of activities further north, she mentions drinking hot chocolate in the Austrian mountains.

This Amarillo writer, whose shyness belies the adventures, financial reversals, and family drama she’s experienced, casually asked if her life could make an interesting story.

What a question! Yes, my sweet, unpretentious friend, start writing now. You'll have the support of Amarillo's writing community. Some of us, now called "seniors," want to be around to help with your book launch, too. 

And to all the "maybe I could..." writers out there. Simply start. Write about a memorable experience. If your story has heart, an online or local writing group will help you fine tune your prose. If you can't find a group, contact me. 

And if you are a reader who can offer encouragement for my friend, or other would-be writers, please share them. 

(c) 2012 Bernice W. Simpson

I Could Run Away -- by KittyCat

I didn’t write Monday cuz Mom hogged the computer—all day. Then, on Tuesday, she stuffed the office full of clutter junk, and closed the door so the FABS (Four Active Brains group) would think the house was nice and clean. She finally opened the door today, got Monster, the vacuum cleaner from its hiding place, and now she really is cleaning house.

Last week, my friend, (well, sometimes we’re friends) Snook, came over with Aunt Pen. Snook said Auntie read that Mom’s fixing my pomes, and plans to sell them.  I didn’t believe it, but then I saw this from last year:

 A Cat in the Corner: Conversations Overheard in a Writers’ Group is primarily a gift book for writers. The concept: KittyCat, ignored by humans, has eavesdropped on a critique group’s meetings. Now, in light verse, he spills what he’s heard, including confidential whispered asides.

The book addresses the practical—what writers need to know, from manuscript preparation to marketing. It exposes the emotional—how writers react to situations, from criticism received to sales made. And it covers the relational—how writers relate to group members as well as business professionals.

Best of all, it entertains. KittyCat celebrates members’ joyful announcements, snickers at caustic comments, and ridicules writers’ frustrations with equal gusto. Occasionally the little snoop punctuates his tattling with thoughts of his own. Nobody has had more belly laughs over the serious business of writing than KittyCat, and he’ll share the fun with all who peruse the A Cat in the Corner: Conversations Overheard in a Writers’ Group.

I’m so ticked at Mom for stealing my pomes, I’m halfway thinking maybe I’ll run away. The last time I ran away ...

Well, for now I’ll just go outside and sit on crocus flowers Mom’s real proud of and cogitate.