Comfort, Then The Fear

Not long ago I wrote about the clown in the barn. Shortly afterward I realized I'd forgotten something important.

The fear didn't set in right away. 

You see, until I was five years old I'd go to the barn every chance I got to gaze at the drawing on the wall. I'd forgotten this part until after the blog post was published.

I suppose it was a clown then, too, but I didn't fear it. The grease pencil figure  on the boards was comforting.

For those moments when I stared at it I was with the visitor again.

I remembered.

What did I remember?

The feelings of warmth and comfort, love and belonging.

But the most important and compelling thing I remembered was who I was.

I am not sure what that means.

I still remembered the thing that the clown drawing was supposed to help me recall.

In those days I had yet to forget it. I thought I never would.

I also never used to avoid the unused chop bin in the barn.

In fact I liked to go in the room and often did so while dad did chores.

But one late winter afternoon that all changed. I went in the room as I commonly did. I asked dad to close and lock the door which he did.

(Side note: the lock was a wooden handle that one simply twisted leaving one end in front of the door  and the other by the wall.)

The room was bare. The light stayed off. There was no possible way for me to get into any trouble.

I was there only seconds.

The clown from the wall jumped me from behind. One arm went around my neck, the other went around my waist.

I screamed.

Dad let me out.

Years ago mom, dad, my sister and I went back to the farm to look.  I took photos of the wall. I took photos of the room.

Of course there's nothing.

I have no idea what actually happened

My dad was a few steps away about to do the chores. I think my sister was in the barn. In my mind I see someone about her size, wearing red.

It was after this incident the fear kicked in.

I never went back in to gaze at the drawing on the wall. All comfort from it was gone.

I forgot who really put it there. I forgot what I said I'd remember.

I suspect that was the point of the chop bin incident.

I had to forget all of that and simply be a human child. Visitations would cloud that life.

The cord had to be cut.

It hurts, but I get it.

I continue to look into this chiefly through self-hypnosis.  Yesterday morning I tried to take a closer look at it. I had a  mental image of a white door with a round handle closing. I know there's something on the other side I need to see.

But I guess that's for another day.

Play-giarist Caught

It's a good day.

Plagiarism is said to be rare, but it does happen. It’s a lousy and lazy thing to do. It’s theft and it’s criminal.
Having someone else pass off your hard work as his or her own is a writer’s nightmare. Fortunately, it’s usually a groundless one.

But it did happen to an Edmonton-based playwright David Belke. He suspected something and checked it thoroughly.
Today’s Edmonton Journal has a front-page story about it.

Jack L. Herman of Kent, Ohio got caught.

Here’s more on it in the Edmonton Journal’s Sunday Reader section.

Ya gotta love what this guy did for an honest living.

Flipping Triskaidekaphobia

Friday the 13th is nothing to be afraid of.
Fear of it does not have any basis legitimate basis. If it did, there wouldn’t be so many tortured explanations for it.

I’ve heard that it’s due to The Last Supper. Jesus and the 12 Apostles add up to 13 and, of course, it turned out lousy for Jesus.

And I’ve heard it’s because that’s the day in 1307 that the Knights Templar were rounded up to be exterminated. It didn’t work out exactly as planned, but it was still a lousy day for the Templars.

Perhaps the most tortured explanation is to do with Wiccans. Covens have 13 members, 12 plus the High Priestess.
Calling it unlucky because of this is offensive, disturbing and belittling. It’s one more way that organized religions have attacked the old ways. Mainstream religion likes to use fear to keep us in check. They claim to spread love, and they use fear to do it.

But back to Friday the 13th. Run out of gas? Lock yourself out of the house? Forget to record your favorite show? Trip over the cat?
No matter what happens, it’ll be Friday’s fault.

Why not flip it over? Decide today is a good day and that only good things happen on Friday the 13th. If you’ve made up your mind that it’s going to be a lousy day, that’s what you’ll get. If you decide it’s good, then it will be.

See for yourself.

And have a great day.

Is Being A Beta Reader Scary?

I wonder if I scared my friends.
Last June I approached several people to read my manuscript. I listed what I wanted them to check for as they read.

Grammar wasn’t on the list for most of them. I have one faithful beta whose grammar skills outpace most everyone else currently walking the Earth. Her instructions included “read it with a red pen.”
Mostly I wanted the readers to tell me if the manuscript made sense. Was it interesting? Engaging?
Did I contradict myself anywhere?
If you’d spent money to read this, would you demand it back?

I’ve discussed books with these people. I know they have opinions, strong ones, about what they read and that’s what I wanted.
I get that it’s difficult for most people to blurt out the brutal truth, but that’s what I was after. If I don’t know there’s a problem, how can I fix it?

I tried to get a good cross-section of readers. Some were new agey and aware of meditation and hypnosis, others not so much.
Red pen reader was happy to do it and, though kind, told me the truth. Most everyone else seemed reluctant. Many still did it, although one who initially agreed later said she didn’t have time to do it. Was it really a time issue, or did the manuscript bore her silly? I didn’t ask. Maybe I didn’t want to know.

If you read books, then you have an opinion on them. That’s my idea when I look for betas.
When I’m asked my opinion, I give it. I’ve occasionally tried to be kind about it, though I can’t really pull that off.
I’d rather hear the truth as it is than have anything sugar-coated. It’s what I’d like to get back, especially from betas.