Month: June 2017

Posted in Non-fiction

#SoCS – 6/10/2017 – US Political System

Posted on by R.M. Carlson

img_0596

I am tired of our political system in the U.S. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not tired of our democracy. I’m not even tired of capitalism. I support both. I am tired of politicians refusing to admit their real positions on issues and what they have really done. I am tired of lies and deceit in politics that are destroying the U.S. political system.

Although I am a news and information junkie, I’ve started tuning out the news as I listen while I work each day. We have no idea what the truth really is. We can’t even believe politicians as they testify under oath because they have no respect for the oath.

There are two things, and two things only, that give me hope. As I’ve listened to the hearings, I have heard just a few young politicians question witnesses. Not the rich, older, white men we are so accustomed to but some new names and faces. New and young politicians from both sides of the aisle. They have seemed sensible and not yet jaded. Perhaps they are our hope for the future?

My second source of hope is the American people. My own opinion is that we got it wrong during the 2016 election. I think I am backed up by the polls since the President only has an approval rate of around 36%. That leaves a huge percentage of the American people dissatisfied. Perhaps in 2020 one of the fresh young faces will run for office. Even if they don’t agree with my point of view, they will be steeped in the ways of government. Perhaps we can reclaim our position in the world and in NATO. Perhaps the checks and balances of our political system, wisely put in place by our forefathers, will work during the next three and a half years and too much damage will not be done. Maybe one of those fresh young faces can re-establish some sense of political sanity and dignity to the U.S. political system and get Russia out of our affairs forever.

Posted in Non-fiction, Uncategorized

Writing Resources and Triumphs

Posted on by R.M. Carlson

How does a writer reach their first triumph? I was not trained as a writer, but i’ve been writing and submitting stories to magazines since I was a child. Even though writing was not my major in college, I took writing classes. My first triumph was a publication in a major magazine. I know many writers who can tell the exact same story.

Then there are writers who are classically trained. The basics may be a little easier, but they still have to break into the major markets. I’ve found the Internet makes it easier, but it’s still hard.

Blogging is a wonderful platform. Be sure and put your best product out there on your blog. I’ve found that you never know who is reading it. I’ve had queries from a variety of online and offline magazines asking me to write articles for them. They found me through my blog.

There are some good resources out there for writers. If you are a beginning writer, take a look at Udemy . They offer courses in writing that could help you. Writer’s Digest offers both paid and Free resources for writers. Take a look at Writing Forward, Reference for Writers, and OEBB Writing Resources.

If you want to be a serious blogger or writer, some of these resources will help you obtain your first triumph!

Posted in Non-fiction

Tender Betsy

Posted on by R.M. Carlson

IMG_1371

Three nights ago, I woke up, rather groggily, to a loud banging in my bedroom. I thought of my little dog, Betsy, and immediately turned to find her. She was in her steel crate, with the door open, having a seizure. The banging was her little, tender   body, stiff and jerking, banging against her crate.

I leaped up and went to her. By then, the seizure was almost over and she was in the latter stages. The paralysis that happens after. Her legs were stiff and her head and neck were stuck backward. She stayed like that for ten or fifteen minutes before she could move again. This was her second seizure that I know about.

She slowly got up and left her crate, wide-eyed and shaky. She kept coming to me, looking at me as if to ask me what happened. I had no answers. I just cuddled her. The next stage was the pacing. She paced through the house, wide-eyed and frightened for an hour or two. After that, she collapsed on the couch. She didn’t move for maybe eight hours.

Betsy is a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel. A breed of dog that is docile, sweet, and tender. To watch her go through something like a grand mal seizure was a horrible thing. It took two and a half days for Betsy to be Betsy again.

There is an innocence and trust in all dogs. We can’t explain to them what happens to them when it happens and we don’t know how much they understand. As their companions, all we can do is get them good medical care and love them unconditionally. We have to show that love to them, cuddle them, make them feel safe. If a person is a good person, dogs bring out the best in us.

Dogs love us no matter what we do. Deserve their love.

Posted in Uncategorized

Continuity

Posted on by R.M. Carlson

IMG_0678

“It was Momma’s summer house,” Miranda said to the real estate agent, “Don’t you think a buyer would love it out here?” Miranda continued.

“No,” the realtor responded, “I know it’s your family home, but the demographic who might buy it work all the time and wouldn’t be interested.”

Dejected, Miranda walked in the house with the realtor. His phone rang. He turned to Miranda and asked if he could show the house in just a few minutes.

 

A young woman and her husband bought it on the spot. She was a gardner and loved the summer house.

Posted in Challenges

One-Liner Wednesday

Posted on by R.M. Carlson

IMG_0663

A quote from my upcoming novel:

“Wendy always dresses so old for her age,” thought Miles, “even when we are meeting friends for drinks and dinner.”

Posted in Fiction

The Lucky One

Posted on by R.M. Carlson

IMG_1407

She sensed something was wrong that last night in the Midwestern city. He was drinking too much. They almost argued and everything felt filled with anxiety. He was distant.The intensity of their passion was more than it had ever been. She was almost afraid he was going to hurt her. He came close but bailed out at the last moment.

The next morning, she knew something was wrong. He handed her his prize baseball cap, commenting it had his DNA in it. He looked at her like he was trying to remember and forget, all at the same time. When they got to the airport, she turned around and he had vanished.

In the few days that were left, he sent messages to her that talked about trust. Over and over, he spoke of trust and long-term commitment. She believed him still. She had known him so long, but they had never connected on such a deep level before. She could relax about their relationship. He said it was for the long haul.

Then she got the note. The note using their special love words, supposedly from her, the other one. Telling her that he had come home, that it was over. He sent her one note, telling her the same thing. She believed that for weeks. He tried to be cruel. He sent her a message, ostensibly from the other one, telling her he forgave her. For what? Then she received several emails. They were supposed to be from the other one, but they weren’t. He gave himself away by using the first personal pronoun and two initials he always used to refer to himself.

It all fell into place. He had broken off the relationship himself and blamed the other one. He had been as cruel as possible while preaching words of love and commitment and trust.

She looked in the water. He wasn’t worth anything. Not her tears, not her heartache. She was the lucky one. Now if she could only make herself believe it.

Posted in Challenges

Chasing the Killer

Posted on by R.M. Carlson

IMG_0676

“We have sightings of him in Red River Gorge, Captain,” Rain said. She was a patrol officer on the Lexington Police Force.

“Get a team together and get out there. Find out where in the Gorge,” the Captain responded. “You need the dogs.”

Red River Gorge is a huge wilderness area near Lexington, Kentucky. Leroy Michaels, a convicted murderer, had escaped from jail. They had reason to believe he was trying to hide by losing himself in the Gorge. His wife, who he had tried to kill, lived near by. The police had items of his clothing to give to the dogs.

The police team and the canine team all met at Slade, an entry point to the Gorge. They gave the clothing to the dogs and they got the scent. Everyone started out following the dogs who headed into one of the mosts rugged parts of the Gorge.

They heard a scream and saw a flash of orange. Leroy Michaels had fallen 60 feet from one of the many ledges in the Gorge.

 

Posted in Fantasy and Magic, Fiction

The Rainy Day

Posted on by R.M. Carlson

IMG_0677

She had spent little time at the ocean in her life. Now she had the chance to spend some time at the water. Any ocean, all oceans, renewed her. More than renewed her, sustained her. Today it was raining, the beginning of monsoon season. There had been a terrible drought all winter. They were all glad to see the rains come, as long as the wind didn’t follow. She started to stay home, to spend the day writing. She wanted to see the bay in the rain.

She grabbed her poncho and jumped in the car. The pier was about 12 miles away.  That was the best place to see the bay. When she pulled up to the pier, no one was there but her. The rain was softly falling. She walked out almost to the gates beyond which only the fishermen went and sat down on the edge. The water was almost perfectly clear. The rain beat on the surface of the water.

She could clearly see the schools of fish. Most of them she still couldn’t identify. She knew the sheepshead. She saw a school of snook. One of her goals for the winter was to learn more about the fish in the area. That area under the pier was shallow. There was a great flapping of wings and a swoosh behind her. One of the large white egrets had landed on the pier and a great blue heron was a couple of dozen feet away.

The sky was as gray as granite and the bay was just barely whitecapping as she looked on out. Her heart rate slowed and the tightness in her chest loosened. She was at peace.

An hour or so later, she started for home, feeling better. She was always so tense until she saw the ocean. She hoped she could capture her feelings on paper. When she got home, she sat down with a steaming cup of tea and started to write. She had been trying to write a scene before she left, but it had escaped her. Now it flowed easily from her fingertips. The ocean never failed her.

Posted in Non-fiction, Uncategorized

Distant

Posted on by R.M. Carlson

When I saw today’s writing prompt, something instantly popped into my head. A term. That term was “extended families.” It makes me sad that extended families are, in today’s time, distant from each other. If I look at my own family, and the families of many of my friends (but not all), there is geographic distance, but there is also emotional distance. This is true, at least in the United States.

Geographic distance will cause emotional distance but does it really have to be that way? My answer is no. With the electronic communication tools we have at our disposal and cell phones with unlimited talk and text, can’t we find a way to keep up with the lives of our aunts, uncles, and cousins? I say we can.

Cousins may not be able to play with each other every weekend like they could when I was growing up, but cousins can still keep in touch. Sisters may not be able to see each other often, but they can talk and message and text.

What do we have except our families and that includes our extended family? Let’s shrink the distance.