Crossbyte Contemplation #8 "That bein' kind can hurt someone sometimes" REO Speedwagon

I've labeled this a contemplation. I am an introvert which means basically I am lost in my own head most of the time. If you're not an introvert, you probably have trouble believing people do that. Or maybe you see introverts and your impression of them is that they are aloof or arrogant.  Maybe even snobbish.

What is actually happening to introverts is that we are tryig to sort through a whirlwind of thoughts. You've heard the expression that someone is overthinking something. Introverts do this all of the time. Thinking in and of itself is not a bad thing, but to me, it is exhausting because I don't think in a logical, rational way. I think by association which means that one thing makes me think of something else which makes me think of something else -- it's kind of like getting lost in links on the Internet, but the Internet does have a home button. I can't always find mine. Maybe a better allusion would be it's like the old pinball machines. The ball zooms all over the place and it hits things and pings everytime it does.

A few days ago, I was reading a pretty deep philosophical book written by Linda Seger who is not only one of the best screenplay consultants around, but she is also a deeply spiritual woman. The book was entitled, Spiritual Steps on the Road to Success: Gaining the Goal Without Losing Your Soul. I recommend this book to everyone even if you don't consider yourself spiritual.

This is my second of what will probably be many more times reading it. As I read it, I get all kinds of insights. It's like the pinging in my head. Every time I read something that connects, I think about how awesome it is. Then, after I finish reading a chapter or two and the inspiration of the moment leaves me, I think, What did I just read? I can sometimes pull out a main point or two, but when I start trying to put it all together, it doesn't work. It's like finishing a game of pinball and not knowing what your score was.

As I thought of this, my mind shifted to music. I'm not sure why. I thought how one musical chord no matter how beautiful does not make a complete song. I guess since I was reading a spiritual book, my mind shifted to kind deeds and how one kind deed every once in a while doesn't make a kind person. Just like in music, one chord doesn't make a song. If you aren't kind most of the time, then you might as well not be kind at all.

Let me explain what I mean. Sometimes a kind word doesn't mean anything if it doesn't happen much.  In fact, a kind word once in a while just makes it worse when the harsh ones come back. Think about it; someone says 9 mean things to you and then 1 kind thing. Immediately your guard goes up. I don't trust the one kind thing at all. With unkind people, what will usually follow the one kind word is a whole bunch on unkind things. Those unkind things absolutely crush a person's self esteem. It's like a dog that hangs around someone who beats them because every once in a while the person gives them a treat.

The results of being unkind to someone echo through the years. A person who has been treated badly whether by bullies, abusive partners, or any abusive person in positions of power never loses those wounds. They can do great things nine times in a row, but when they mess up one time, that's all they think about. I'm that kind of person. I can have one really bad experience and forget the 100 good ones that I had before it.

Even when someone tells you, you've done a good job, but ... all you can think about is, "I wasn't good enough."

Seger talks a lot about writers in her book.  Introverts frequently take up writing, but in some cases it's the worst thing they can do. In writing, rejection hits you far more times than acceptance does, and even when something good happens, you can't rejoice much because you know that rejection is right around the corner.

Maybe that's why I found myself reading Linda Seger's book. Maybe I have begun to feel like I'm losing my soul because I don't have the success I want to have (though I probably couldn't define what success to me as a writer would consist of.) Maybe, I needed to go back to what success should mean.

Anyway, I've circled back now. I wanted to talk about the insight I got out of reading Seger's book. 

One musical chord, though beautiful, can not make a beautiful song

                                        just like only

One kind word does not make a beautiful person.

#crossybte

I hope you are kind all the time to those who need it the most: the weird, the homely, the odd, the poor, the destitute, the lost, the sick, and all of the people who need a kind word, well, more than one kind word. It hurts more if one kind word is followed by nine bad ones than if there are ten unkind ones. 

If you're interested, here is an outline template for planning your screenplay, play, or novel.

 I am a dyed-in-the-wool, irredeemable pantser when it comes to my writing. I pick a place and start writing, and much like just walking into the woods without a compass, I get lost.  I don't know how many partially finished manuscripts I have on dust-covered (Metaphorically) computer files. If I got rid of all of them, my memory on my computer would go up a whole gigabyte I bet.

My reading for my writing craft, much like my writing, is scattered, unorganized. I will pick up a how-to book and read a few pages, perhaps even highlight all over the pages so that there is very little unhighlighted material. Then, when I go back and look at the book again, I might as well read the whole thing over again. Like my documents, many of the how-to writing books I have are only partially finished. I've found some stashed in old bookshelves like worn-out underwear stashed in a rag bag. My wife says they make the best dust rags.

I have read a lot, as sporadic as it is. I have also soaked up some of the things I read. Still, when I look at all of these books on structure --everything from Save the Cat to the Snowflake Method -- I am slightly overwhelmed, well, more than slightly.

I always tell my writing students that in research they need to take material from several different sources and make it into one coherent document. Well, this teacher became a student and did the same thing. I came up with a four-page, fill in the blanks, template that I can use to plan my own writing.

This is a video I made explaining it. If anyone thinks it could work for them, let me know by sending me an email at thecrosses@gmail.com and I will send you a copy, either pages or word, that you can type right into.

YOU WOULD THINK POLITICIANS WOULD ACTUALLY KNOW HOW TO DEBATE

 

It embarrasses me that politicians and news outlets don't know how to conduct an actual meaningful debate. If there are any competitive debaters out there, correct me if I say anything wrong here. This is how I remember it.

First, both parties agree to the debate rules. If the rules are followed, there is NO reason why this debate can't be done virtually. First, in a real debate, both sides are given the same question or proposal. I did not like the different questions for different people. That lends itself to political bias. Well, maybe it doesn't matter because both candidates talked around the issues without answering the questions that were actually asked not once but several times.

We all know what the major topics are: the economy, COVID, the supreme court, international relationships, taxes. Every candidate should get the same question. In a real debate, the question is posed. First person responds, second person responds. If they talk over the limit or they talk over the other person, they are penalized or disqualified. Now, I think the modern equivalent of that is turning off the microphone.

If I recall correctly, there is some time for participants to prepare for rebuttals. During this preparation time, an objective fact-checker should be allowed to speak. It would need to be someone each side can agree on which is probably impossible, so maybe you could get one conservative and one liberal to do this job. Of course, that leaves out moderates like me.

Then, you have rebuttals. Then you have a follow up to the rebuttals. Then, you go on to the next question. The order of response is changed. The person who went first on the first question goes second. This switches each time. At the end of the debate, each person gets a final time to reaffirm their positions on the topic. They are not allowed to add new information or try to rebut again. If they do, then the microphones should be turned off. Allow the other person to talk. Give the first person another chance to do what they are supposed to. If they don't, shut them off and not allow them to talk anymore. You break the rules a first time, you get a second chance. You break the rules a second time, you take the consequences.

Some of you might say that this will take forever, but the truth of the matter is that if the candidates are forced to meet the time limits, a whole lot of time would be saved. As far as I'm concerned if you can't abide by these rules, you are either afraid or you have nothing of substance to say.

There's another thing I've noticed about the debates. Both parties, at times, do not answer the question they are asked. They should get a time penalty. If you don't answer, the first time you get 15 seconds taken off your time. If you're supposed to talk for 2 minutes, your mic gets cut off at 1:45. If it happens a second time, you get a minute taken off. When that time is over, your mic gets muted. That would force them to actually talk about the issues.

I need to write an argumentative research paper. How do I plan it?

Crossbyte Contemplation #7: “Manic Depression is Capturing My Soul,” Jimi Hendrix

I don’t know if you need this or not, but I thought I might give you a little insight into a manic depressive’s mind — now called bipolar disorder. In my case, bipolar 2 with fewer bouts of the destructive mania you might think about when you think of bipolar disorder. Bipolar disorder 2, has lower highs (How’s that for an oxymoron.) It tends to manifest itself in greater depression. 

I’m not writing this, by the way, to make you feel sorry for me. I want to give you some insight into the way my bipolar affects me.

A few days ago, I just woke up depressed. There was no reason for it. Nothing bad had happened. It was one of those days. Even though I take medication, I still have days when something is out of whack and I am depressed.

I tend to think of my life as roles that I have been given — only the movie is real. I have a father role, a grandfather role, an educator role, a writer role, a husband role — the list goes on. Usually when I get down, it is related to my idea that I am failing in one of my roles.

Two of the roles that are the most chaotic for me are my role as writer and as a believer.

Like most bipolar sufferers, I sometimes have delusions of grandeur which means basically that I think me or my work is a whole lot better than what it actually is. When these delusions are bad, I mistakenly think I can do anything that I set my mind to.

Recently, I wrote a “short,” a screenplay which is not nearly as long as a “feature.” A feature runs about 120 pages whereas a short runs anywhere from 5-30 pages. Three producers wanted to look at it. Three.

“This is it,” I thought. “This will be my ship coming in.” Every time I feel like “this” (whatever this is) is it, my failure voice says, “No, it isn’t.”

I’ll even pray sometime, thinking that God will drop whatever I want right into my lap. Turns out I received another hope-crushing rejection from one producer. What really upsets me is that I think it was a “bait and switch tactic” all along. Producer says, “I’ll take a look at your script.” Then it gets sent back, “This is not really what I’m looking for.  I could give you some detailed notes.” Usually, this is a more appealing way of saying, “Pay me some money, and I’ll tell you what I think.”

Did I mention this was a soul-crushing rejection? My believer role often reacts with a comment like this, “God, why did you get my hopes up?” Then, I start to wonder if maybe my faith isn’t strong enough — If I could believe just a little bit harder. From there, my self-esteem voice kicks in. “God didn’t do it. Your writing just sucks. Why are you such a failure? Why can’t you do anything right? Are you deluding yourself by actually thinking you’re great?

It’s right around this time that I crash, and I can be depressed for days. Then, the depression begins to lift a little. I think, well maybe the producer just doesn’t appreciate real talent. The delusion cycle kicks. I think my manuscript can’t help but succeed. When the next rejections comes along, the cycle continues. I have to pick myself off the floor again.

Delusion, elation, rejection, confusion and then finally, depression. Over and over again. Imagine that if you can. This is my life.

The thing is. I have had incredible moments of success with my writing. I’ve published stories, articles, plays, books and have even optioned a screenplay. This is more than most writers do in a lifetime. And two producers still have my script. One of those two might want it. I don’t see that. All I see is the rejection. I am in the absolute worst thing for bipolar disorder. 90% of what you’re doing gets rejected. The percentage is even higher for screenplays, especially for an older writer who lives in Missouri rather than Hollywood.

When a failure comes along,  I no longer remember the successes. My medication helps me some, but medication is a treatment not a cure.

"Take a Look at Yourself". by Uriah Heep. What I wish I could tell my 13 year old self.

"Hey, little Stevie. This is big Stevie. You at 62."

"So I live that long?"

"Yeah, but you can't take life for granted. I survived cancer and believed I could die at any time."

"But if I live that long, I don't have to worry about death for a long time. Cool."

"I wish it were that easy. One of your friends is going to kill himself soon. Not only should you not take your life for granted; you shouldn't take others'. One-third of the great commandment is to love your neighbor. Pay attention to people. Communicate with them. Get your head out of yourself and pay attention to others in case they're having a hard time. You're going to find people your whole life who need encouragement or help."

"What can I do to stop people from hurting themselves?"

"Sometimes nothing. Sometimes everything. The thing is, if you're not aware, then you won't ever get the chance to help someone. Then you have to deal with the guilt. You don't want to spend the rest of your life wondering what you should have done. In all things, do your best not to harm others with words or deeds. And if you do something wrong, don't beat yourself up forever. Everyone does something wrong."

"If I'm good to others, they'll be good to me." Little Stevie smiles.

"I wish it were that easy. People are going to bully you for no reason. It will be hard, but you can't let them ruin your self-esteem. Another part of the great command is to love yourself. I can assure you. You can and will do great things."

"That'll show them." Little Stevie balls up his fist and pounds his palm.

"No, it won't. They'll likely forget all about you even though you can never forget them. Do things not to get back at others, but to fulfill your dreams. Even if you ever manage to get back at someone, it won't be satisfying."

"At least I have my church." Little Steve pulls out his cross chain and smiles radiantly.

"Well, little Stevie, your church is a cult. It does make you feel special, but it is rife with hypocrisy. Unfortunately, several churches are."

"To hell with them then."

"Here's a problem, Little Stevie. If your faith depends on a church, it's not faith. Don't give up your faith. You almost did, you know. There's a place out there for you, but you'll never find it if you condemn them all to hell. You're only condemning yourself. The most important part of the great commandment is to love God. This happens if you have "personal" faith. The right church helps, but it's not like it can hand you faith on a communion plate."

Little Stevie brow furrows in contemplation.

"I have to go back now, Little Stevie, but I want to leave you with one final bit of advice. Think for yourself. Don't do something because someone else tells you tell to. You won't be living your own life, you'll be living a life that someone else thinks you ought to. You have to find your own path. Finding your own path doesn't mean you'll have to walk alone though. You can take the same highway to different destinations. People will travel with you and enjoy their company for as long as you can, but don't think you have to get out in the same place."

#Crossbyte Contemplation #5: linked to your past. Oh, oh, Domino by Van Morrison

Domino chain

#crossbytes  One decision, like one domino tipped, can create a link leading from your present to your future. 

Imagine if you will, a line of dominoes, 25,000 of them. One domino pushed animates a swirling, whirling mass of artistry and blazing color.  Think of the grandeur as patterns emerge, morph and flower. Now, image if just one of those dominoes is removed. The entire chain breaks.

When I was in school, my history classes covered a theory that was called the domino principle. During the cold war, the theory proclaimed that if democratic countries allowed one small country to fall into Soviet control, then it would begin a chain reaction that resulted in much of the known world being under communist control. For this reason, the United States got involved with Korea and with Vietnam.

Think about the decisions you have to make. You should approach every decision that you make with the idea that its repercussions could be felt for the rest of your life. Most of the time when we think about this, we think about only the bad decisions we have made. We need to adjust our thinking.

Let me tell you a story. When I was a junior in high school, I decided to become a teacher. I loved learning and sharing knowledge but more than anything else, I had two teachers whom I wished to emulate. Don't ever think that your actions don't influence others. And you don't have to be a teacher for this to happen.

I came from a poor family, so I knew that I would need financial help to attend college. One of the scholarships I decided to accept was a teaching scholarship. It was quite a generous sum for its time, but it came with one stipulation: I had to teach for two years or else I would have to pay the scholarship back. My dad talked to me about it. lining up the pros and cons. In the end, I decided to take the scholarship.

I graduated with honors and got my first teaching job. Unfortunately, for me, the first year I taught was the worst teaching year of my life. I despised. Now, I won't say that there weren't some very rewarding moments that first year because there were. However, the rewards were not great enough to balance the ba moments out.

I resigned from this job. In actuality, it probably was one of those situations where I might have been fired had I not resigned. Only one thing kept me from leaving teaching after that year. You guessed it. The scholarship I received. I couldn't afford to pay half of the money I had gotten from it.

Well, I thought to myself. Surely, I can make it through one more year, and then I could quit. This is where Arcadia Valley High School in Ironton, MO saved me. I was hired there despite some of their misgivings. News that I had not had a great first year reached them. The schools were only about 12 miles apart. I took the job, and my eyes opened to what teaching really should be.

Because of this job, I realized that teaching was my destiny. I taught for over 30 years, and I'd like to think that I did more good than harm. While I taught at this school, I met my wife. My wife introduced me to the greatest church I have ever attended. The Arcadia Valley United Methodist Church is where I met role models whose life and witness have inspired me ever since. Me attending this church led to my becoming a lay speaker who often delivered the message when the pastor was gone, to being in the choir, to helping with the youth and children's ministry. Our daughter was born when we lived in Ironton. My daughter married a man from this town and they now have two children, the joys of my wife's and my lives.

All of this resulted from one decision. One domino falling.

Before you push that domino, consider where the rest will fall in your future. Make careful decisions.  As Robert Frost said, Way leads onto to way. Make sure the way your dominoes are falling is the way where you want them to go.

Crossbyte Contemplation #4 "Voices in the Sky" Moody Blues

This is a blog I feel like I should write. You may have noticed that I have written for a while. It's because I had a pretty health issue come up which I've been battling. I'll be back on track soon.

About two years ago, I began a journey that I would rather have not taken. It all started when I had three wisdom teeth removed. Little did I know at that time that having these teeth removed would be the least of my worries. I want to tell you that I believe in God, and I also believe that God can steer our ships when we can’t even see where we are going. In the midst of my recovery from having my teeth removed, I kept sensing that there was something else wrong with me. I had no overt signs, just a little voice telling me. 

Though no doctor ordered one, I asked my doctor to give me a PSA test. It is important that you realize that if I hadn’t gotten that test then and there, it might have been years before a doctor ordered one. I believe that this voice I heard was God in some way talking to me. When I got the results, my PSA level was 6.7. Normal is three or less. 

I went to a urologist, and to make a long story short, I had a biopsy. It came back positive, but fortunately for me, it was a level one. This is the lowest level in which something can actually be classified as cancer. If I had not asked for the PSA test, this cancer would not have been found until maybe three or four years later. Prostate cancer grows slowly I know, but three years is a long time. 

My doctor, my wife, and I agreed that I would go on active surveillance which meant constant monitoring, PSA tests every three months for a year and then every six months thereafter. A biopsy every year. My first year with active surveillance passed without incident, and when I had my second biopsy, things seemed to be about the same. Still, I was noticing some new things – nothing extremely bad – but still some changes. God’s quiet voice came back to me. 

My doctor said that we would wait for six months before we had a new PSA. I thought about that for a minute, and then I told him, I didn’t feel comfortable waiting for that long.  So we set up another test for three months, but this test was a different kind of PSA test. When the results came back the PSA number had climbed back over 5 and the test didn’t look good in other ways. My doctor wanted me to get an MRI done to see if anything else was going on. By this time, I had almost made up my mind to get the surgery. 

The MRI came back and revealed that the cancer was in another part of my prostate that wasn’t detected in the biopsy, and surgery was recommended. I wondered what would have happened had I waited that six months instead of three. Maybe it wouldn’t have made that much difference, I don’t know. Still, when I believe God is talking to me, I don’t usually ignore it. 

I had my surgery, and today I went back to the doctor. The cancer was removed completely and I do not need any further treatment.

Now, I don’t know how you feel about God, and I’m not trying to preach. I just know that I think God has guided me the whole way through the storm until I have found a safe harbor. 

Even if you don’t believe in God, there’s something you can glean from my experience. Pay attention to your body. Don’t rely on a doctor to monitor you. If you feel you need something done, don’t hesitate to discuss it with your doctor. If you have a good doctor, he or she will listen to you.

Crossbyte contemplation #3: And the Road Goes on and on into the sunset, and my destiny is bound to move me on." (Movin On by the group Missouri.)

When you've reached the end of your journey, you will find that the road goes on! #crossbyte

You can take this #crossbyte in a couple of different ways. First, I do believe in life after death. I remember when my mother died, I received all kinds of signs which showed me that she was going to be okay. I won't go into all of them, but I will give you a couple. Once, after my mom died when I felt especially depressed, I was driving my car listening to my rock music at several decibels. The song playing was Angel by Aerosmith. Suddenly, my seat belt buzzer indicating that someone was in the seat beside me went off. The thing is, no one was there. You can call that coincidence if you want to, but I don't. I welcomed my mom but told her she didn't really have to buckle her seatbelt.

At another time, not long after she died, I had a dream about my mom. We were having a family get-together and she was doing all the preparations like my mom always did when the family got together, and I was watching her. Then I remembered that she had died, and I said, "Mom, I thought you were dead." She replied, "Not really."

Occasionally, I still get little signs. I enjoy spending time on my back deck watching and listening to the birds. A Cardinal appeared at our bird feeder, and I remembered the old saying that a Cardinal's presence means someone from heaven is close by. At first, I said, "Hi, mom," when I saw it. Then, I remembered that my mom's favorite bird was a mockingbird. As I said, "Now, if you were a mockingbird, I'd really be impressed." At that precise moment, a mockingbird flew to our bird feeder.

While I've never seen my mom's ghost or any other ghost for that matter, I do get little reminders like those often. On the same day as the mockingbird there were two other signs, but I will save those for another day.

I do want to add one more way that you can look at the #crossbyte above. How many times have you come across an "end" in your life? Maybe, a job or a relationship ended. Maybe, like in my case, someone you know and loved died. Sometimes these moments seem like an end, and even though they are, they don't have to be "the" end.

I retired from teaching -- the one thing I had known for over 30 years. It was the end of a career, one that could not have been any more fulfilling. However, I knew that it was the end. I'd begun to fall behind the technology, and all the red tape and bureaucratic bull just made it no longer enjoyable. It wasn't my students at all. I knew that the end of my teaching career had come, but the news that we were going to get our first grandchild made me realize that another journey was about to begin.

The end of my teaching career was not "the end." (I do have to confess though that I have not left teaching entirely. I still teach a few classes for Three Rivers Community College.) Sometimes, when the pavement runs out, there's a nice trail to walk. I became a grandfather, and believe me when I say that journey is just beginning. I have had time to write. In the last year, I have had more publications and made more money than I have in any five or ten years of writing than I ever had before. I used to say that I'd never make enough money as a writer to quit my day job, but now that I have retired from my day job, I'm enjoying the writing journey. (I still don't make very much money, but that's now why I write)I don't know where this journey will take me, but I know there will come a time when I realize I should stop.

I think that when the path to this life ends that I'll just be walking a different one that I've never walked before.

Think about the times when something "ended" for you. Was it really the ending? Or was it the start of a different walk down a different path? Endings hurt a lot, especially when we don't remember that one thing has to end before something else begins. Not all the endings we experience are pleasant; most are not at first, some never. But think about all of the wonderful new beginnings you have had, beginnings which would not have happened if there had not been an ending.

When the road you are traveling ends, keep on walking. There's another path out there just waiting for the right feet -- your feet.

Crossbyte Contemplation 2: Rumor has it

#crossbyte: Gossip spreads so much faster and does more damage than truth.

 

During my first year of teaching, my first real job, I fell in love with a bright red 1978 Firebird special edition and bought it. Never mind that the payments for the car, my bills, and the money I gave to my dad who had helped me with the down payment,  took up almost every cent of my paycheck. I think I was making about $10,000 a year. I did a budget and figured that I had enough to cover the cost of rent, the car, and my dad’s loan plus any other bills I had.

 

One of the things I forgot to include in my budget was food. So through the week, I squeaked by with the help of one of my fellow English teachers and good friend Perry Watson who fed me at least two or three times a week.  On weekends, I did just like I did in college: went home and sponged off my parents.

 

My first semester of teaching went smoothly, and my evaluation was sparkling with not one negative comment. Then came the second semester. My boss, whom I disliked for a long time before I could finally forgive him, called me into his office one day.  He started asking me some questions which began innocently enough.

 

“Do you know the trailer out by the river?” I told him I did because I drove past it every weekend on my way back to see my parents.

 

“The person who lives there is one of the biggest drug dealers in the county.” Okay, I thought, what does this have to do with me?

 

Then came the bomb which nearly blew my life apart forever.

 

“Someone saw your car there.”

 

I vehemently denied it. I had never been there much less bought drugs. I had never even heard of this alleged drug dealer.

 

The next comment from my boss was, “One of your students in your class said, ‘We’re going to get rid of these hop-headed teachers,’ and you dropped it like a hot potato. I remembered the kid saying this in class, and the reasons I dropped it were that I didn’t think he was talking about me, and two, I actually knew one or two hop-headed teachers who taught there.”

 

When I again denied any knowledge of his accusation, he said, “Your car stands out from others. You’re the only one who has one like it around here.”  I couldn’t argue that point.

 

Well, one thing led to another, and I got the ultimatum. My boss said, “The board will likely not rehire you for next year. I suggest you resign rather than let yourself get fired.”

 

I cannot even begin to describe how much hatred filled me. I had not ever bought drugs from this person and I didn’t even know him. I am by nature very easy-going, and it takes a lot to get me mad. Let me tell you how mad I was. I went to a lawyer and talked to him about suing the school for defamation of character. I remember exactly what he said, “Let’s go after them.”

 

I had a case. I had not had a single bad comment about my teaching, and then suddenly I was going to get fired. Someone, I think it was my mom, who was a saint on earth, appealed to my reason, “Son, if you do sue this school, others will not want to hire you. You might never get another teaching job.” She was right. As a non-tenured teacher, I basically had no rights. I could have been fired for anything. I sent in my resignation letter, but my anger still boiled inside me. I would have given up teaching forever if not for two things. One, I had received a scholarship in college that required that I teach for two years or else I had to pay it back. I had completed one. Second, another school and another principal came through for me.

 

I remember it wasn’t until late July that I got another interview. Mr. McLaurin the principal of the school who interviewed me said right at the beginning, “We heard that you had some trouble at your last school.” I believed that my shot at the job was over. Fortunately, that wasn’t the case. Mr. McLaurin had faith in me, and this school hired me. I went from hating my first year of teaching and seriously considering dropping out of teaching altogether to finally finding out how much I loved it my second year. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to Arcadia Valley High School in Ironton, Missouri, and to Mr. McLaurin.

 

I recently retired after 32 years of teaching, but I still teach part-time at Three Rivers Community College because I still love it. My career almost didn’t happen because of rumors. For years, I held a grudge against my first boss and my first school because they believed something totally wrong based on rumors.

 

I forgave my first boss finally, but it wasn’t until after he died. I spent a lot of time trying to figure out how the accusations had come about in the first place. Then, one day it hit me.  I told you that I drove that road every weekend to visit my parents. What I now realize is that I probably did stop at the trailer. Not to buy drugs, but because I had forgotten something I needed to take to my parents. (It was probably my dirty clothes because I didn’t have a washer and dryer myself.) I had turned around in the alleged drug dealer’s driveway, and one of my student’s parents probably saw my car. After all, the bright red Firebird special edition was truly was one of a kind.

 

Why can’t people see the damage that rumors cause? I’ll leave you with one last thought. I used to do an exercise in my classes where I told one student a story and that student had to tell the same story to another student. By the time the story passed through three students, it was unrecognizable.

 

Another thing I have noticed is people mostly pass bad rumors. The good news just isn’t as exciting I guess. I know everyone, at one time, has been victimized by rumors. Yet we ourselves still gossip. Isn’t there something wrong with that?

I want to spend a moment or two on Shameless Self Promotion:

I have two books available for sale on Amazon. One is a Fantasy, Masters of Camelot, which is listed as a steampunk Arthurian story and the other is my contemporary adult novel called Drowning.

https://www.amazon.com/Masters-Camelot-Steven-Cross-ebook/dp/B0887TDM77

https://www.amazon.com/Drowning-Steven-M-Cross-ebook/dp/B07Z3HCPCQ

You can also join @episodicreading and enjoy my dystopian novel Tongue Tied which is about a society where telling stories will get you killed. Three other great writers also have their work here.

https://www.episodicreading.com/bookshelf

I have paperback copies of Drowning for sale. If anyone would be interested in buying one, give me a holler.

Finally, I think I earn a little bit of money if someone clicks on the advertisements used in my blog. If you read this and you wouldn't mind doing it, would you click? I think I have earned a little over a dollar. 

Crossbytes Contemplation 1: Tomorrow might not be here for you.

I've struggled with what I want to do with my blog, and one of my former students suggested I base them on the #crossbytes I used to make up for my seniors when the time for their graduation neared. Since so many seniors might not experience the joy of graduation, I thought now might be a good time to start.

It’s May 15 as I write this. As I sit here and wonder what tomorrow might bring, I realize we have no guarantee of tomorrow. I also realize that if we spend each day worrying about whether or not we have tomorrow, the time will pass until we really don’t, and then we’ll realize how much time we wasted worrying about it.  You might have to read that twice, but sooner or later it will make sense to you.

 

I’m thinking of my new novel, Masters of Camelot. One of the themes of this novel is that today, tomorrow and yesterday are all connected. The roots that we planted grow into the trees of today and those roots will extend into the future. The subject matter is Camelot and we know how the stories of Camelot have passed from generation to generation, and as long as we believe there is a place for heroes and that there should be might for right, then the stories will continue to be passed along. I fear that might not be much longer.

Don't look so far back into then or so forward to when that you overlook now. #crossbyte

I wrote this crossbyte about five years ago. I don’t think I have ever written anything that is more relevant than this. I think about where I am now and realize that I need to appreciate the now.  I’m 61 and I have prostate cancer. It was caught early and probably the surgery will get all of it, and I could live many more years, but -- therein lies the issue. I put the emphasis on could. I just read in our local paper that a nearby long-term facility has become a hot-spot for Covid 19. I think about how I have a compromised immune system with my cancer and how I also have sleep apnea. I could be one of those people gasping for breath on a ventilator. It's a depressing, bleak thought, and I wish I could stop thinking it, but there are times when I can't, when the very anxiety I feel about it bring on the symptoms that terrify me.

 

I have tried not to dwell on such possibilities because they drain out the joy of the now. What about now?

 

This morning, it was a cool 65 degrees, so I want outside to drink my coffee and say my morning prayers. My little dog joined me and sat on my lap and enjoyed the moment as much as I. As I sipped my coffee, I listened to a chorus of birds: blue jays, mockingbirds, cardinals. It was a grand and glorious sound. Somewhere nearby, a croaking frog joined in. Even though his song was not as beautiful as the birds, I couldn’t help thinking of the verse in the Bible that says, “Make a joyful noise.” This frog sounded pretty joyful.

 

I’m bipolar and the smallest things get me down. Lately, I have thought a lot about the writing I do. It’s been a couple of months since I’ve had any good news about it, and this morning I found out that a screenplay I’d entered in two contests tanked badly. I sometimes wonder if my writing is something I should just forget. It takes time away from other things I could be doing for sure. Then I think about how much fun it is and how much power and satisfaction I feel when I am creating my worlds. I believe that writing is something that connects me with the only creator and writer that matters, and because of that, I’ll keep at it even if I never sell another thing.

 

While the roots of our lives stretch back, we have to remember that without them, we wouldn’t be the flower we are today and we wouldn’t have the chance to keep flowering in the future. I find it difficult to capture my thoughts with words, so the preceding sentence may make no sense to you, but the bottom line is this:

 

Don’t put off today by worrying too much about yesterday or tomorrow. Today is all we are guaranteed.

 

Just in case you might like to buy it, I’m posting the link to Masters of Camelot.

 

https://www.amazon.com/Masters-Camelot-Steven-Cross-ebook/dp/B0887TDM77/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=masters+of+camelot&qid=1589151135&s=digital-text&sr=1-1

 

Winding my way back to you

My title sounds like a country-western song.  In fact, it may be a song. I'm using it because I'm back again to this blog. I'm like a wayward lover that always strays but then comes back again. Anyway, I'm posting a copy of the cover of my next book here. Masters of Camelot, an Arthurian fantasy sort of, except that it features Lancelot and most of it takes place hundreds of years in the future. It's not for sale yet, but it will be soon. I'll keep you posted.

I still have Drowning available for sale. It's a gritty YA contemporary. You can get it here.
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07Z3HCPCQ
I've finished the sequel to it and have submitted it to my publisher. I'll hear about it in the next month or two, I guess, but with COVID19, who knows for sure?

And then there's https://www.episodicreading.com/, a UK publisher who is trying to revive serialized literature. Episodic is using one of my fantasy novels and four others as soon as it gets off the ground. You can check the news out at the site. I'm not quite sure when all of this is going to become a reality, but it will be soon.

I have also recently sold one screenplay and optioned another in the last four months.

That pretty much catches you up to date on my publishing news. That's not the only reason why I'm writing though.  I think I want to make a point here. That point is that you shouldn't really give up on your dreams unless you're absolutely sure that's what you need to do. Believe me when I say that about two years ago I was ready to give up on one of mine. I was 60, had gotten a bad health report, and I was a little down.

I thought a lot about giving up on my writing, but I decided to go to one last writer's conference. I've attended the Ozark Creative Writer's Conference in Eureka Springs, Arkansas, and really loved it.  This is the one I chose as my last. I'd gotten wisdom teeth taken out, screwed up my knee, and almost didn't go. But I wanted to see if it sparked anything. I put on a knee brace, popped pain pills and went. I had entered 10 of the writer's contests as part of the conference. I placed in three of them, with one first actually. It heartened me.

Then I entered #pittmad. (Google it to see what it's all about.) I was asked by two publishers to send queries. Both accepted some of my work. The cover art above is for the second novel that Between the Lines Publisher accepted. Drowning was the other one. The other publisher was @episodicreading.

Then, I got the health news. It dealt me a blow, and I almost let it kill my writing dreams again. Then a year after that, I sold one screenplay and optioned another one. Not until I turned 60 did I get a huge writing success. And at 61, I got even better news with the screenplays. Then, I found a freelance editing job. One domino tumbled and several followed.

Now COVID has hit. I don't know what's going to happen next, but I think maybe I'll keep writing. In writing, every time, you publish something, you've accomplished a dream. It's not a one and done thing though. Each time something gets selected for publication, your confidence improves, another dream realized.

I remember when I was in the midst of struggling with my writing stuff, I saw a cartoon. I can't remember it exactly, but it was one of those, don't give up your dreams because they might just be around the corner things. The cartoon was a guy digging a tunnel looking for diamonds. In the cartoon, he had dug and dug and dug and was just about to give up. In the cartoon, the diamonds were just about two feet in front of him.

I'd like to say that inspired me to keep going but it didn't. I had given myself a deadline, and I was close to making it there. My ministers had always told me that God's timeline is not our own. I didn't know God's timeline would take so long to get here.

I'm going to wait and see what happens in the coming year. Long about October or so, I'll reevaluate. What's going on in the world and what's going on in my life will determine what the next steps will be. Dreams don't have any limit though. You can have as many as you want or as few.

I'm not going to be one of those people who tells you that you should never give up because you will always get your dreams. We all know that's not always true. Usually, though when one dream fades away, you'll see another one that you might have overlooked before. Keep looking.

Fwd: Attention Table Readers - You'll Want to See This

Begin forwarded message:

From: "Table Read My Screenplay" <info@TableReadMyScreenplay.com>

Subject: Attention Table Readers - You'll Want to See This

Date: February 28, 2020 at 5:14:40 PM CST

To: writecrosswords@aol.com

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