Charlotte Rains Dixon

Writing In the Middle of it All

We're getting a new roof put on.  Not only that, our old roof leaked, so there's some damage that needs to be repaired in the house itself.  This means I currently have two work crews at my house.  At the moment, the sounds are: pounding, the screech of a wood truss being ripped from the base, a saw grinding, the workers yelling to each other.

And here I am, writing in the middle of it.  

In some strange way it energizes me, though its also a terrible distraction, especially when the head roofer pulls me aside to regretfully inform me they have to replace more of the back than they thought (ie, we need to spend more money).

But it has also caused me to think about being in the middle. 

I'm in the middle of so many things in my life: the finishing touches on my novel, working on a logo and website, putting together a workshop that will be an ebook and perhaps more, getting my newsletter back up.  Being in the middle like this, it is sometimes difficult to see my way toward the end.  This in turn makes me feel like I'm not doing anything.

When you are in process, its hard to see the product.  

But most of the time, writing is about being in the middle.  Its about putting one word done on the page or the screen after another, and then another and another.  A novel gets written one word at a time, just as life gets lived one moment at a time.  All we really have is write now, the current word.  Why is that so difficult to remember?

I'm writing this post to remind myself:

I'm not lazy.

I'm making progress on all counts.

I'm not at the beginning of things.

I'm not yet at the end.

I'm in the middle.  Plain and simple. 

PS: Don't forget to enter the contest to win a cool desk accessory from All Modern.  Go here and comment on the post to enter.

The Contest You Have Been Waiting For

Its here!

Only slightly delayed due to the death of my pug, but today I am announcing the contest I've been telling you about.

Thanks to the nice people at All Modern, you have the chance to win this cool office accessory:

It is the Fidato Memo Station with Mobile Phone and Pen Holder.  Cool, huh?  I selected just for readers of Wordstrumpet and I dearly wish that I was eligible to win one myself.  But if I can't have one, I'm pleased that one of my lucky readers will get to win one.

So what, you are no doubt asking, do you have to do to win the Memo Station?

It couldn't be simpler.  Just leave a comment on this post and the winner will be chosen by a random drawing next Friday, September 4th.  Okay?  Start commenting!

And while you are at it, here is some information about All Modern:

Part of CSN Stores, All Modern is just one of over 260 retail sites that offer a diverse array of products from office furniture by Herman Miller to wall sconces by Murray Feiss. 

They really do have some great-looking stuff-go check them out!

Igor the Pug Passes

It is quiet in the house.

No snorts or snoring from the family room, where Igor used to lie in his favorite chair.  The first thing I did every morning was tiptoe in to see if he was awake, the last thing I did at night was kiss him goodnight.  In his last days, he couldn't get out of the chair by himself, so the first minutes of my day were spent with one ear cocked for him to awaken.  Soon as I heard him yipping, I'd lift him down from the chair, accompany him outside, and get him his breakfast.

He died in that same chair yesterday.  He was sitting on my lap, surrounded by his family, when the wonderful Dr. Duggan injected the final medicine.  One minute he was snoring, the next he was silent.  I felt such a sense of relief for him and from him.  

He was fading fast the last couple days.  Despite that, he received visitors from people who wanted to pay their last respects.  There were floral tributes:

The bouquet my sister brought for him.

The flowers Sharon brought.

And special gifts:

 Leigh's bag full of Aids for the Afterlife.  It includes:

Hearts to remember us by

A mini Dog Fancy magazine

A chewie catalog

An album of photos of fav people and places

A hedgehog (Igor's fav stuffed toy)

A rose to remember nature with

Currency and jewels...just in case

And a key to the unknown

(We think that Ted Kennedy was very happy to run into pug on the road to the afterlife, given that he was so well stocked with the essentials.)

He spent lots of time getting love and hugs:

                                       

And  receiving phone calls from those far away:

This is Igor listening to his most beloved friend Reed say goodbye.  For Reed's touching tribute to pug, go here.

When the time came, we were ready, if teary-eyed.  And off Igor went, to new adventures in a different place.

This morning I washed out his water dish and gathered up things to bury his ashes with--his final bag of chewies, the little bandanna he got at his last grooming, the mat his dish sat on that read, "I love my dog."

And now all there is left to do is learn to write without the sound of snoring as my sound track.

A Writer's Constant Companion

It is August, the crickets sing at night, and my pug is dying.

I want to honor him while he is still here, which will not be for long.

My pug Igor, has been a constant companion the last ten years, even after turning blind, and lately, developing a limp in his rear leg.  He can no longer climb stairs and since my office is on the second floor, I've taken to working downstairs, carrying my laptop down and camping out with him in the living room or out back.

But when I was in LA last week, his problems became more apparent.  He awoke one morning and lost his balance, and at the vet they discovered that his kidneys were failing.  So he spent four days having them flushed, and when he got back home, suddenly he could no longer stand--his back legs were stiff and gimpy and after a moment or two of struggle he'd collapse again. When I got home from the airport on Saturday night, I flung myself on the floor beside him and he told me, in dog vocalizations, how awful it had all been.  Then he licked my face and hands until I was as slobbery as a little kid's popsicle.

When my Mom died a couple months ago, we had an amazing Celebration of Life for her.  It was the kind of thing that was so positive and life-affirming and wonderful that people said, "too bad we didn't do this when she was alive."  But the thing is, we did--we had a blow-out party for her 90th birthday two years ago and everyone who had ever loved her came and celebrated her.

So I'm celebrating Igor, even though he is not long for this world.

We got him by answering an ad in the paper.  We drove way out into the country west of Portland, finding our way to a double-wide trail in the midst of a muddy field.  Inside there was a big box of pug puppies on the living floor.  Four males were left from the litter and one of them jumped up as soon as we came in the room, wagged his tail and wimpered.  He was about twice the size of the other puppies and he wouldn't stop trying to get his attention.  I plucked him from the box and said, "We want this one."   So it really was a case of Igor choosing us more than we choosing him.  And we've never regretted it--he's been the best dog ever, bar none.  When he was a puppy he terrorized us all by rocketing around the backyard and he was a constant source of comic relief and entertainment.  In recent years he grew quite sedate, but was no less loving.  He quieted down and grew wisdom.

Every writer needs a dog.  A creature to lie at your feet as you work at your computer, an animal you can talk to when you need plot help.  A canine to get you out of the house and away from the desk once in awhile.  Igor has done all this for me and more.

And so I honor him while he's still here.  I lie on the floor next to him and tell him what a great dog he is and how much we all love him.  I feel his amazing energy and pet him and kiss him.  I love him so much and I'm going to miss him so much, I know.  I'm just grateful we have had him for as long as we have.

The Writer's Notebook: Loving Moleskines

I'm a journal and notebook junkie. 

I carry around a journal with me wherever I go, and over the years I've been through many a different kind of journal. But lately, I have discovered Moleskines, and I am in love.

The Writing Life: Letter from LA

Sitting in the garden at the Pasadena coffee shop called Zephyr, I whiled away a few good hours talking with my screenwriting friend Brian.  We discussed the movie biz and the publishing world while a gentle breeze rustled the ivy covering the patio walls and handsome Armenians smoked hookahs at a table nearby.  Russian literature reared its head for consideration, as did the economy (what current conversation is complete without touching on that?) and other mysteries of life.

That was on day six of my trip to LA.  I was in Pasadena, to be exact, staying with my friend Suzanne, who told me all about her new modality, Reference Point Therapy, and took me through a couple sessions.  I had a tarot reading on day seven, which forecast many good things ahead for me.   I've had tarot readings when such was not the case, that's for sure--which is, perhaps, the beauty of the cards, which are difficult to fake.  Sort of like plotting a novel is difficult to fake--if it doesn't work, the problems are obvious.  (Less obvious, of course, is how to fix it.)

This trip turned out to be a much-needed bit of R and R.  After the year I've had, I needed it more than I realized.  I regret that I was unable to do many of the things I usually do when in LA, such as visit Julie or see Diana.  But I'll make time for them next trip.   This visit was strangely free of meeting with clients, though I did attend one networking event.  And, as usual, stumbled over my tongue when it came time to explain myself:

"And what do you do?" said the bright-eyed young woman.

"Oh, I'm a writer," I replied airily.

"That sounds so exciting.  What kind of writing do you do?"

This is the dreaded question.  "Well, I um, do a lot of ghostwriting.  You know, for business owners who need a book to promote themselves.  And I also do copywriting, like for websites?  And, let's see, I teach creative writing, too.  Because you know, my true love is writing fiction. And my main goal is to get the novel I just finished published."

By this time the bright-eyed woman has turned away.  I hear her asking a middle-aged man what he does.

"I help people maximize their business profits by teaching them to pay attention to their bottom line."

I really need to develop the art of the elevator pitch.  Its a good thing I'm not a screenwriter, required to take meetings with producers and pitch a one-minute synopsis of my novel ("It's, um, Bridget Jones meets Something's Gotta Give?")

But I did manage to have a lovely conversation with a chiropractor who immediately got how important having a book is to promote your business, despite my bumbling attempts to convince him.  And then I went home to a pretty good bottle of Syrah, so that made everything okay.

Yesterday, Suzanne and I went to see Julie and Julia, a most wonderful movie.  Neither of us had been to see a movie for months, and going to the theater to see movies is one of the things I love to do.  It took us about three hours to get there because we kept screwing up the showing times and having to drive back and forth to various theaters.  But it was worth it.  I loved the film.  What's not to love when Meryl Streep nails Julia Child, like totally nails her?  And Amy Adams plays a blogger who hits the big time. 

Now, at this very moment, I am sitting in the San Francisco airport.  I have a three-hour layover here, despite the fact that a direct flight from Burbank to PDX is only two hours.  But it gives me time to ponder southern California, and the strange hold that LA seems to have on me.  I don't miss it when I'm gone from there, but as soon as I get there, I start plotting when I can get back.  Can somebody explain this to me? Plus, I'm a Portland girl, through and through.  I like rain and greenery.  I like people who walk places (I can't tell you how many times I nearly got run down by Very Big Trucks on my morning ambles through Pasadena) and bicyclists and citizens who take public transportation and eschew their cars. I like pale skin, beaches you can walk along and not see many other people, and ice-cold ocean water.  I like people of various shapes and sizes and levels of beauty.  So can somebody please tell me why I keep falling in love with LA?

A couple of non-LA related notes:

Please go vote for Whimsey, my friend Julie's dog.  Because A. he's adorable and B. it would really help her out.

And don't forget the exciting contest that is coming up right here in this very spot next week.  Stay tuned!

Photo courtesy of Wikipedia, used under Creative Commons Attribution ShareAlike 3.0.

Creating Characters: Mai, Oui, Marcel Proust, I Could Use Some Help

Having some difficulty creating full, true-to-life fictional characters?  Why not let Marcel help you?

Yes, that Marcel, the most famous one of all--Marcel Proust, author of Remembrance of Things Past, the only part of which I remember is when he waxed poetic about Madeleines, the shell-shaped, mini-cakes that melt in your mouth.

Thanks to the wonderful Kate Lord Brown, fellow denizen of Alltop, I found this fabulous questionnaire that purports to be the Proust Questionnaire.  You can answer the same questions that our Marcel did at age 13, and at age 20.  Supposedly. 

In truth, I don't really care if Proust did answer these questions or not.  What struck me in looking them over is how useful they could be for character development.  The questions go way beyond Barbara Walter's famous, "If you were a tree, what tree would you be?" query to delve deeply into such things as:

What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?

To what faults do you feel most indulgent?

Your favorite virtue?

What in your mind would be the greatest of misfortunes?

And more, so much more, all written in that language from another time.  So put yourself in your character's state of mind and take the questionnaire.

Also, head on over to Kate's blog and read the post about the questionnaire.  Its quite clever.

And, one more thing--stay tuned to learn details of the awesome contest that is coming up.  I'll give you a hint.  It has something to do with this site.

Put it All On the Page, Put It All on the Page Now

I'm a junkie for writing books.

The good ones get me so excited about writing that I have a hard time finishing them because I put them down to go write (sort of like what I hope this blog does for people).  And even the bad ones generally offer some tidbit or another.

So when I saw a new book on writing by Annie Dillard, called Give it All Up, Give It All Up Now: One of The Few Things I Know About WritingI eagerly snatched it off the shelf.  The book had a colorful, bright cover done in gorgeous watercolors and that was enough to drive me to the bookstore cash register, even though the entire thing was shrink-wrapped.  No matter.  I anticipated serious and weighty thoughts on writing, precious secrets, and glorious inspiration.  I was excited and couldn't wait to get home to read it.

Imagine my dismay when I slit open the plastic that surrounded it and found that it is essentially a gift book, a coffee-table type volume that opens up in accordion folds.  The watercolors are awesome, but the words on the page are few, and to save you the trouble, basically they are variations on the theme of the title:  Give it all up, put it all on the page, don't hold back, don't hoard words...and so on.

I was angry at myself for succumbing to the lure of yet another book (something I've been doing since I was a tiny child so I don't know why I ever expect to change) and mad at Annie Dillard for enticing me to buy this worthless piece of @#$%^.

But here's the funny thing:  I've found those words ringing in my head ever since.  Give it all up, I hear as I open the computer.  Put it all on the page, the voice whispers as I begin to right.  Don't hold back, gets told to me as I pick up my pen to write in my journal.  It is not a new sentiment.  One of my most favorite self-help books ever has a chapter titled with similar words.  (I can't remember the exact book, but check out the amazing Alan Cohen's site and read anything by him.)

And so now I have come to believe that these are the most profound words on writing you'll likely ever hear.  So deep and yet so simple.  Give it all up, give it all up now.  Put it all on the page, put it all on the page now.  Don't hold back, splash it all out there.  Collapse, exhausted, from the effort, rest awhile and then rise to do it all over again.

STAY TUNED for an announcement about an exciting contest with an awesome prize to be held right here on this very blog.

Writing and Laundry: Constantly Seeking Zen Moments

My daughter is grown and gone, married now and thinking about having kids of her own (if the stupid army would ever let her husband come home).

But sometimes often she comes to the house to do her laundry.  Which is why, last week, I ended up down the basement folding a large load of clothes from the dryer, which needed to be done before I could do my own laundry.

I will admit, I was feeling the wee-est bit resentful.

But then I started thinking about when she was a baby and I washed diapers.  (Yes, Virginia, there was a day when women washed their own diapers.)  A friend--older, wiser, and more experienced as a mother--had told me how much she loved doing laundry for her four children, folding the soft, white diapers, the tiny onesies, the little pink and blue sleepers.  So every time I started to get bored or cranky about doing laundry back then, I'd remember her words and try to pull myself back into it by focusing on the good parts of the task.

My friend was very Zen, though she didn't know it and actually considered herself a born-again Christian.  But being where you are, appreciating it, and staying present, is all very Zen, as I have learned and continue to learn from my Zen friend Derek.

My best writing times are Zen, too.  I'm constantly working to find the magic key to being present, staying in the flow, and deal with distractions (ie, ignore them).  I find it easy to be totally engaged when I'm doing my own work, less so when I'm working on assignments for others.  But it is imperative that I find ways to focus and be present no matter what I'm doing.  So here are some of the tricks I've learned:

1.  Shut down all inboxes.  This will allow you to resist the urge to check email, just real quick, and see if anybody has written you. Which then leads to the even more irresistible urge to answer them.  And by the time you've answered them, yet another one has come in...You may also wish to put your phone on silent and close the office door.

2.  Set an intention.  Sit quietly for a few moments (see below) and focus on what you want to accomplish.  Ponder what this will take, or review your notes before you launch in.

3.  Meditate or breathe deeply for a few minutes before launching into a writing session.  This can clear your mind and allow you to begin refreshed.  You can also do a written meditation and get the dreck out on the page

4.  Set a time limit.  Dave Lakhani talks about the power of an hour, the idea being that you set aside an hour, eliminate all distractions, set your intention to write, set a timer, take a deep breath and dive in for the duration.  Short, focused bursts of writing can really get the job done.

5.  Keep a notepad or a stack of index cards beside your computer to jot ideas down.  Then, when you get a flash of brilliance, you can make a quick note of it to peruse later.  This also prevents you from stopping in the middle of what you are doing and googling your latest idea, which can then lead to a lengthy distraction through the internet.

6.  Buy a brain entrainment CD which can help you stay focused.  I like the ones here.

7.  If your attention wavers, bring yourself back with a quick breathing exercise you've figured out ahead of time (say, take three deep breaths) or a statement.  One I've used successfully is, "Spirit come back to me, I need you here with me now."  A bit odd, I know, but I got it from a Christiane Northrup newsletter years ago and I've always liked the ring of it.

8.  Take breaks.  Do an hour and then get up and move.  I know I'm guilty of becoming one with the computer and sitting for so long that my knees creak and all my muscles complain when I finally do get up.  Much better for mind and body to move regularly.

Those are my tricks for finding Zen states in writing.  Anybody have any others?

Writing in the Rain

It rained yesterday.

A lot.  I drove home from a meeting on the freeway last night and waves of water splashed over the windshield, just like in winter.  But I didn't mind.  All day yesterday I waited for the rain to come in.  It was hot and muggy in the morning, but there were hopeful clouds to the west, the direction all good storms come from.  I didn't fully believe that it would rain, because its been a horrible hot summer (several days of temps near 106 degrees) and because along with that hot summer has come this weird weather pattern.  The day will start off sunny and cool, with a nice breeze, thus lulling one into thinking its going to be a gorgeous Oregon day.  And then, boom, no warning, all of a sudden it is hot.  Like flippin' hot, uncomfortable hot, sweaty hot.

So that is why I was looking for rain.  Because I was sick of the nice weather. And because I missed sitting in my office with the window open, listening to the rain as I typed away.  I missed falling asleep to the sound of raindrops.  Sometimes the rain makes me melancholy, but in a good way, if you know what I mean.  Yesterday I felt tired and unfocused until the rain actually began, something to do with the actual low pressure system making its way inland.

And once it began raining, I thought, oh good, we're back to normal around here.

I'm a native Oregonian, in case you hadn't guessed.  Which is why, to me, there is nothing better than writing to the sound of rain.  And no better explanation of writing, then this quote from Tom Robbins, another Northwest kindred spirit:  "People ask me who I write for, I tell them I write for the rain."              (Images courtesy of Wikipedia)

Daily Writing: Create Your Day

I have a love-hate relationship with the self-help industry.

Mostly, I love it.  Send me an email detailing the latest way to develop more insight and I'll click on your link any day.  Show me an ad promoting some kind of "You Can Achieve More With Your Life" workshop and I'll read your long sales letter.  I love that rah-rah, you-can-do-it-if-only-you-believe-in-yourself stuff, I do.  And I have the books to prove it, lining my office walls.

On the other hand, much of it is just plain silly.  Rehashed Law of Attraction, same old, been-there-done-that crap.  I look at it and think, why bother?  I've gone down that route so many times before, said the affirmations, made the vision boards, visualized until the cows came home, all with mixed results.

But hope springs eternal.  And I'm always in the market for ways to enhance my writing and my productivity, as well as for techniques to recommend to others.  So I continue to click the links, read the sales letters and watch the videos.

Suck-er, I hear you saying.  And you are correct.  That I am.

Occasionally, some of this time-wasting research results in useful finds.  Recently, for some reason, I recalled the concept of creating your day from the movie What the Bleep.  Now why this thought suddenly occurred to me, I have no idea, but occur it did.  And so I spent some time looking into it, and experimenting with it, and I'm now convinced its actually a vital tool for writers.

In the movie, a man named Dr. Joe Dispenza talks about visualizing his day.  Then there's an interview with Ramtha, the entity that J.Z. Knight channels (um, channeling is one of those New Age things I'm still not sure about).  Both of these people, particularly Ramtha, make it seem like creating your day is this mysterious thing that you have to buy videos of people talking in lame hoarse voices to master.

But I'm here to tell you that's not the case.  Its a simple idea, people, and its simple to put into place.  The results are of geometric proportions, way out of line for the effort you'll put in.  It goes back to that most basic of New Age principles, visualizing.  All you really have to do is visualize how you want your day to go.  First thing when you wake up, or last thing before you go to bed at night, do a little run-through of what you want to happen during the day.  This will, of course, include copious amounts of writing.

It may help you to sit down with paper, pen and calendar beforehand, in order to sort some things out.  Appointments need to be included, for example, and things like taking a shower and eating lunch.  But here's the cool thing: if you habitually dawdle in the shower and would like to be speedier in order to waste less time, you can imagine that happening.  You can run through your endless to-do list and see yourself accomplishing everything on it.

Here's what I find:  rarely does my day go exactly as I've visualized it.  However, and this is what I find amazing, somehow I manage to get everything done that I imagined.  Might not do it in the exact same order, but do it I do.  Its like you've given your mind a directive and it can't help but follow it.

Now, on the days that I don't do this, I'll find myself unfocused and unproductive and halfway through the day I'll wonder what's going on and then I'll remember.  I didn't take time to visualize my day.

Its especially useful for writers because you can visualize yourself blissfully engaged in writing.  Scribbling down mad notes for your novel, or writing like the wind through the assignment you've been having trouble finishing.  And then, by God, you do it. 

Magic.  Or, as my daughter used to say when she was just a wee tiny tidbit of a girl, magic with a hard g.

Now, if we could only come up with a less dopey name for this process.

A Week at the Beach

We are at the beach, my family and my sister's, hiking to Cape Falcon.

"Nake," the person in the lead, my teenaged nephew calls.

"Nake!"

"Nake!"

"Nake!"

The refrain goes on down the line, through the motley assorted ten of us on this hike (the sum total of everyone on this vacation, because, as we joke, it is a requirement that we all have to do everything together).  Nake, for the uninitiated, is our word for snake. Since my sister and I are both deathly afraid of nakes, every hike features many such call-outs, reporting real or imagined nakes along the way.  Over the course of the last week, spent in glorious vacationing at the Oregon Coast, the calls of "nake!" have been ringing through the air often, along with spontaneously bursting into the songs "A Hundred Million MIracles," and "Chop Suey," from the movie Flower Drum Song, which we watched not once, but twice.  Unfortunately, we only caught the refrain of each song, so we were forced to sing the same lines over and over again.  Not a problem for us, only those who had to listen to us.

Whether hiking a forest path, walking from Arch Cape to Cannon Beach along the sand at low tide (seven miles, though we convinced ourselves it was only three before setting off) or lazing about at the cabin, we somehow managed to repeat the same stock phrases over and over again.  Other favorites came from Werner Herzog's documentary, Encounters at the End of the World, on Antarctica.  This requires saying things like "the abomination of man" and "its a deranged penguin" in a very heavy German accent.  We watched that movie two and a half times.

It seemed to me that the beach was a bit more deserted this year, not as many groups staying in the other rentals around us.  The one thing I noticed was that there were lots of big groups, like ours, perhaps more people banding together to take a shared vacation and split the cost.  I'd see these big groups of people walking down the beach and then I'd realize I was part of a big group walking the other way.  And I was pleased to be part of my group, the "exuberant" (another watchword, taken from the way we described ourselves in my mother's obituary) family I'm so thankful for.

We've always been close, but over the past few months we've drawn far closer, so much so that we joke about buying houses next door or getting land together, and put when we have to say goodbye.  A huge part of the reason for this is the months we spent dealing with our mother in the last days of her life, and coping with cleaning out and selling her house.  During those stressful months, we saw each other several times a week.  Before that, even though we live close by, we'd often let weeks or months go by without seeing each other.  One thing we always did do, however, was spend a week at the beach in the summer together.

This was the first year without Mom.  One of the great things about her was how eager and happy she was to do things, always.  She never wanted to be left out, was always game to go, which meant we hauled her to beach every year, even when she was in her nineties.  She couldn't get onto the beach but she could sit on a deck or in the window and watch the waves.  And she could go into Cannon Beach with us, for lunch at Ecola Seafoods, for the best fish and chips ever, great shopping, and one of the best bookstores on the planet.  Or she could accompany us on a drive into Manzanita to check out the the doings there, the new shops, a great grocery store, and a fabulous  newsstand and coffeeshop.

We thought of her a lot this year.  Our cabin had a table placed by a window with a panoramic view of not only the ocean, but people walking by on the road up to the grocery store, the only business in Arch Cape.  She would have loved to have sat there all day, commenting on people and being in the thick of things.  We are our mother's daughters, compelled to report on everyone walking and driving by and also yelling "get a job!"  Don't ask.  It was just another one of those stock phrases that popped up.

Her passing made us closer.  Her absence has drawn us together, determined not to forget her and all she gave us, the most important of which was each other.

What does all of this have to do with writing?  Nothing.  Not one blessed thing.  Unless you count the ways that being amid my wonderful, boisterous family replenishes me.  Or how strolling along the water, barefoot, flip-flops in hand, seagulls squawking, slight breeze blowing, waves crashing, fills me up and makes me ready to return home and write like crazy.  Unless you count all that.

What Have You Done To Help Today?

I'm totally inspired by Carol Schillios.

She's a friend of a friend, who I'm hoping to get to meet later on this summer.  Carol runs Fabric for Life, a microcredit enterprise which gets young women who have been reduced to begging on the streets (or worse) and teaches them to create items such as fabric or clothing to sell.  Its an awesome, successful operation and there's a Fabric for Life store in Edmonds, Washington, where you can go buy some of these incredible products.

Ever a woman of action, Carol has embarked upon an audacious new project.  She's gone up on the roof of her retail store to live for 30 days or until 1 million people donate one dollar each to her foundation. She's also asking people to tell what they have done or are going to do to help others when they donate. This woman is incredible!  She's actually living on the roof for a month in order to raise money.  Can I just mention that the northwest has been hit with an unprecedented heat wave over the last couple of weeks?

Let's support this great woman and show her that writers have heart and enthusiasm just like she does.  To see the video about this project, visit the Up On the Roof with Carol website.   Oh, and for the record, what I'm doing to help others is start a non-profit honoring my mother.  My sisters and I are going to sell the bracelets Mom loved and use the money to fund programs for the elderly.  Having recently navigated the labyrinth of limited programs and resources for our senior citizens, I can tell you that our lack of regard and concern for them is shocking.

If any media folk are interested in interviewing or writing about Carol, just let me know and I'll get you in touch.