Flying Body Parts and Body Language

Some of our favorite times in the car are with our family listening to books on tape. As we follow CSU Pueblo’s football games around the country, we listen and analyze these books.

Last week in the car, we were listening to a well-known author. I said maybe you’re better off not knowing anything so you can just enjoy the book.  The writer wrote she sipped her coffee with tightly squinted eyes. I didn’t know you could drink coffee with your eyes. Then the eyes dropped to the floor and looked around. The eyes need to stay in her head.

And those tags are so distracting. They break the cadence. Today, you don’t write tags like she says, he says. You have to write it in the voice of the character so there is no question who is saying what. If the writer says one more time, “Tim died,” I’m going to scream. How many times is she going to tell the same story? I get it.

My daughter said to me, “Well, listen to you, Old Smarty Pants. The author writes a good story and I used to read all her books, but I quit reading them because she is so redundant.”

Of course this famous writer has been in the business for thirty years. But, today the editors would not take her as a new author. She can get by with it because people buy her books and she has sold millions of books.

I’ve told my children I have grown as a writer. It was an abstract statement to them and I don’t think they believed me or took me serious.  On this trip, my kids were impressed, almost shocked with how much I’ve learned over the last few years honing the craft of writing and spending hours and hours with my editor friend.

I told my kids that my editor friend would not let me get by with this sloppy writing. Thank God she won’t. That’s why my second book is held up because of editing. We’ve gone through each line, each sentence, each paragraph, and each chapter by chapter.

Apparently I haven’t learned enough. When she read a scene in my book, she said to me, “Libby just asked Frank to do something, he agreed but he put his hands in his pockets. Frank just said by his body language, “I don’t want to do it.” Did Frank want to do it? I said of course he wanted to do it. She said you’re not saying that.

Then in another scene the sheriff came up and saw the pregnant girl. My friend said to me, have him do something. I said, I’ve had him adjust his gun in his holster, hold his pad, write something, ask questions, but I’m not sure what else he could do. She said, “Have the sheriff put his hand over his belt buckle. When a man sees a pregnant woman, he will put his hand over his belt buckle.

Are you kidding me? Wow! I didn’t know that. Does other people know that?

She said, “Watch and see.” Then she gave me a lesson in biology.

I said to her, I’ve got to Google Body Language. I can’t believe I’m almost finished with this second novel and I’ve got to go back through and check it out. I’m sure my characters are not saying what they need to be saying with their actions. I thought dialogue was sufficient.

Google has become my best friend. This is what I learned. There is an accurate way of seeing people’s thoughts, emotions or moods by reading their body language. People speak about 75% through their bodies. For example, if a person has a habit of touching his or her nose, people could perceive it as a sign of deception. They are interpreting that gesture as untrustworthy. You could think they are telling the truth, but they are lying because of how their body is acting.

I Googled Body Language. There are a lot of sites on dating and how to act when you want someone to notice you. I’m not planning to enter the dating scene any time soon and hopefully never. But if I’m going to get these characters right, I’m going to have to learn how to act when dating. Oh me. It’s always another learning curve.

In a dating scene when a woman inspects a man over her shoulder with curiosity, she’s checking him out and saying I’m interested. He looks back over his shoulder at her and he’s saying, I’m checking you out, too. I’m also interested.

Another site showed a few movie star couples and how they stand next to each other. The writer of the article claimed how they stand beside each other will tell how long they will be together as a couple.

One of my favorites was Tom Arnold, he had his girlfriend in a body clutch. His arm was around her and his knuckles were white in a tight hold. The writer said it wouldn’t last and he was right.

Final Brushstroke! I need to get these body parts right and my character’s body language acting right since they are saying more than I thought. My characters are fictional, but apparently they are talking out of school and telling on me. It’s time to get some more schooling.

Life after the game – Not the end of the story

As I watched the Pagosa Pirates Football Team play their hearts out during the Bayfield game, I saw the hurt in the players. I knew there would be life after the game. It was the last game of the season, but far from the end of the story.

The score didn’t reflect the player’s determination, effort and heartache on the field and off the field. The boys of fall didn’t just show up on Friday night, they started training at the beginning of summer and officially started in August practicing every day getting ready for Pagosa Football Season 2014.

One player was hobbling off the field, turned around and went back into his position. He made several more tackles after that. Another one was made fun of from the smart-mouth announcer from Bayfield. I wanted to wring the announcer’s neck and put a sock in his mouth, but I was sitting on the other side of the field. Just as well, it wouldn’t have been a very pretty sight for a grandma to come unglued.

I understand why parents get so involved. They see what their child is going through. These young men are growing up and it hurts to see them struggle, but it’s necessary.

I would be amiss if I didn’t write this article. Our grandsons have graduated and gone on, but Friday nights under the lights are as real and poignant as the tears of the players and the heartbreak of the parents.

I remember last year when our grandson was kicked off the field during a home game for un-sportsmanship behavior. He had the one final game to play and he missed it. His senior football season was over. There wouldn’t be another game for him in his #72 jersey on the Pagosa Pirate field. He grew up on that field.

That was emotional for all of us at the time. I know it was just high school football, but it was a hard time. His uncles from New Jersey came to Pagosa just to watch him play. He wasn’t finished with the game of football. His whole life has been studying football and his career choice is to become a college football coach. We thought the un-sportsmanship call would ruin his changes and a college wouldn’t look at him.

Even though he excelled in wrestling his last year of high school, and was even offered wrestling scholarships for college, there was unfinished business with football.

He loves to come back to the Pagosa field on Friday nights just to support and cheer on his friends. He understands how much it matters to them. He has walked in their cleats.

Something on Pagosa’s field made him determine to go on to be the best football player on a winning team. He chose a college not for academics but one that has a winning football program.

The head coach said to his mom, “We can do so much with that passion and but we can’t give it to them. They have to be born with that fire in them. This is what we are scouting for!” They saw his potential, not by the wins or losses of his senior year’s team, but by his determination.

He will finish up what had been taken away from him. His College had a 42/0 record until a couple of weeks ago. They lost their winning streak, but are back to winning. They needed that wake up call to jolt them out of complacency.  I am learning you can be complacent even when you are winning. Hmm, that’s something to ponder on later.

My Sweet Al and I, along with his parents have been outfitted in red and blue and we are burning up the road again traveling to cheer on the CSU Pueblo Thunder Wolves. Our grandson is red shirting this year, and was named scout of the week from among 50 other redshirts.

Bayfield is always the last game of the season and also a rock in the shoe for Pagosa. My daughter said, “Our boys are so sweet, why does Bayfield treat them so badly?” My answer to her was, “Maybe we are growing tough men. And it hurts a lot.”

Bayfield is not going away. I noticed on their lineup a 6’4” sophomore who will be back next year.  The announcer for Bayfield will probably be back, too. He’s not go away either. But, the story is far from being over. I want to remind the young warriors of Pagosa they may not have won Friday night but their opponent was hurting the next day.  This is just the beginning of their next journey. When they are suiting up for a winning college team then they’ll understand the battle.

Final Brushstroke! Everything we experience today, even our failures are designed for tomorrow’s victory. You might change school colors, but you don’t change your passion for football and the determination to win.

The Heiress from the thrown has spoken!

I sat at my computer in shock as I looked at the picture posted by my grandson in California. The words under the picture said,  “My first tattoo went well.”

Facebook is our connection with our grandchildren’s world and with our son in the Philippines. I only know what they’re doing through Facebook.

I called My Sweet Al to the computer, “Come look at this.”

He bent down and looked, “Oh, my God, it’s permanent. It’s so big.”

“I know, it’s ugly, too. I wonder what it stands for.” I couldn’t let it go. “What’s with these kids writing all over themselves? When the kids were in the first grade, they wrote on their hands with magic markers. We scolded them and washed the marks off with Ajax. You can scrub all day, these tattoos aren’t coming off.”

I’m sure the tattoo artists don’t care what you wear on your arms, legs and body. It’s a job, a creative job at that. I should be into “Ink.” I understand in the Big House, the favorite pastime for inmates is tattooing. When they’re talking “Ink,” they’re not talking ballpoint pens.

I shot back a response on Facebook to our grandson.  “I hope it will be your first and last.”

Then our son, living in the Philippines, got into the action. He posted, “You know Spencer, Grandma Slade said she would disown me if I ever came home with a tattoo. My how things have changed. So as your proud uncle, I recommend you get about 10 more just to see grandma's reaction. She's fun when she goes crazy.

Our Grandson in Ft. Collins posted, “Hahahaha that's funny Uncle Stephen, miss you guys that's awesome.”

I wasn’t going to let this die. I posted another comment on Facebook, “I didn't like it when Creede got a tattoo, with a Bible verse no less. He said he had to do it, the verse meant so much to him. Then there is a rumor that Slade has three tattoos and I’m horrified what they are. Now you have this “Calling All Skaters” tattoo. My three grandsons stop it. Stop it, now. One day you're going to hate them. Yes, I'm fired up.”

Our son shot off a response, “The heiress to the thrown has spoken (nephews, do it again just for fun)

Our grandson in Ft. Collins posted, “I love you Grandma.”

Our grandson in Pueblo fired back a response, “That’s three grandchildren out of four. Tiffany, you need a tattoo. Laughing out loud. In class right now, sorry gramma.

One of our grandson’s called his mother, “I’ve got a surprise.”

She responded, “I hope it’s not a puppy or a tattoo.”

“No, Mom, it’s a new Jeep.”

I talked to our daughter whose son got the tattoo and announced it on Facebook. She said, “The deed is done. I wanted to post for the world to see that my silence doesn’t mean I like it. I’m just sick about it.”

She brought up a couple of good points. She said, “Maybe it’s conviction or preference. Older people are opposed to tattoos because of what it meant in their day. To them it meant “Trashy.” Our grandchildren are in their day and it means they have a right and it’s their preference. To them it means, “No big deal.”

Our daughter begged and begged her son not to do it. She told him, one day in your career you might be working with older people and you might miss a business opportunity, a job or whatever, because of their convictions against tattoos.

Everybody is doing it. A friend who is my age got a tattoo recently. Her grandson, no less, talked her into it.  I couldn’t believe it. You know how much cellulite a woman my age has?  I told my Sweet Al, “Don’t even think of getting a tattoo. If you do, you need to get a tattoo with your address so you know how to get home.”

Our grown children came by the house. It was all talk about Spencer’s tattoo. Allison said she wanted to post something on Facebook, but thought different. I told her maybe that was a good choice. I probably shouldn’t have posted either.

My Sweet Al said, “It’s painful. You shouldn’t write about it. Everyone will know about it.”

I responded, “It’s on Facebook, the world already knows about it.

Final Brushstroke! From the heiress to the thrown! I’m sitting at my throne typing this article and wondering if maybe keeping my mouth shut is the way to go. My son and grandkids are having a heyday with my reaction. They’ll probably have a few more tattoos just to see me go crazy. Apparently, “I’m fun when I go crazy.”

A Week with Writers – It’s how you pitch it!

Heaven help us all. I was with six hundred writers for five days, who were all telling their stories to anyone who would listen. What happened to the one-minute elevator speech?

At the beginning of the year, I knew it was going to be a year of change, but I didn’t realize I would be living in a new world of agents and publishers.

A month before, I was traveling from Denver with our daughter who had surgery and five open wounds. We stayed in the only available motel room in Pueblo due to the State Fair and Labor Day Weekend. We paid a high price for a room, which we were afraid to touch even the bed. Our window looked over the back alley.

This week I came from a five day writer’s conference in St. Louis, Missouri, where I slept between 300 count sheets, drank Starbucks coffee in the room, had a view of the arch and fountain, and dwelled among writers who all had a book to pitch.

Interestingly, the five-star and one-star rooms were the same price. I guess it’s all about supply and demand, the same with six hundred writers pitching their books to forty editors and agents.

My editor friend — who I call Inspector 12 — grilled me for weeks on how to act and what to say when I appeared before the agents, editors and publishers at the national writer’s conference. I practiced my one-minute elevator speak, only for her to say, “No. Use these key power words. Say it this way.”

Not all of the writers who came had the benefit of a person with the savvy of pitching an editor or a publisher. I explained my book as edgy. “No, No, No.” She came unglued. “Don’t use that word. It sounds trashy. They will think you’re writing a bedroom scene or they will be looking at a lawsuit. This is what you say. I’m writing a book for this generation. It’s relevant to right now.”

Everyone had to tell his or her whole story to anyone who would listen. My name tag told the writers I was a new attendee and a writer. I couldn’t do them any good, but for fifteen minutes, they cornered anyone who would listen, including myself.

One writer hemmed me in, and I backed out of the room, saying, “That’s nice. Yes, that’s nice, yes, you’ve got a great story.” At that point I knew how an agent must feel.

One editor had just learned of a death in her family, another editor was consoling her in the bathroom, both were crying. A writer came up and began pitching her book. The editor said to me, “Couldn’t she see my friend was crying?”

I responded with, “No, a writer sees a nametag that says, Editor. That’s all they see.”

My friend, who has written over seventy books, who was the keynote speaker this year, and who I’ve known for twenty years wanted to sit with me. We wanted to catch up with each other’s lives. A writer, who sat on the other side of her, was so impressed that she was actually sitting by Lauraine Snelling, she told her story from beginning to end.

I was very fortunate I was traveling with an editor friend who knew what was going on. I pitched two editors who said, “Send your manuscript,” and an agent who said, “I’m interested, revise these things, and send me your full manuscript and packet.”

What does that mean? I guess I got through the pickup line, the lunch date, and when they asked for my manuscript, that meant I was invited to dinner. I’ll keep you posted. I’ve got a lot of work to do, and I have a new book on my mind, which needs a concept and chapter summary to accompany “Under Heaven’s Rage.”

It’s a new world and an exciting challenge for me — a new language, a new goal, new powers-to-be, new demands and a very busy life. Why did it come now and not twenty years ago? My friends are all retired, they go out to lunch and coffee, and have time on their hands. I’m juggling deadlines, and I’m in another learning curve.

Final Brushstroke! When you re-invent yourself and start all over, maybe it’s the beginning of having something to say and to say it differently. It really doesn’t matter how old you are, your education or who you know. It’s what burns inside of you that needs to be told. Maybe, that’s why six hundred writers had to tell their stories.