Monthly Archives May 2012

It’s rare today to find an author who does nothing but write for a living. Do you have a ‘real’ job other than writing, and if so, what is it? What are some other jobs you’ve had in your life?

Melinda Todd:  Yes, my ‘real’ job is being a wife and mother. My husband and I have four children and my family always comes first, even when a character is trying to chat in my head. Sometimes I jot some quick notes because I can’t sit down and type out a scene that’s playing in my head. Then I pray that I remember it when I can get back to writing.

Have you always wanted to be a writer?

Melinda Todd:  Deep down, I have always wanted it. I wrote a lot of poetry in high school to get through some tough times and sort through those feelings. I won several contests with a few of them...

I’d like to present a special guest-blog post by author A Jacob Sweeny, entitled: The Psychopathic Author. I hope you enjoy it, and please feel free to click the links to visit the author’s website or pick up her book if you’re interested. Enjoy!

A Psychopathic Author

I sometimes wonder what people think about me personally after they read the violent scenes I include in my novels. Do they wonder, just like I have so many times, if the author is just a bit psychotic to write down, let alone imagine and come up with such frightening and gruesome details?

Well, I can’t tell you about everyone else, but I can tell you that for me it was rather difficult to convey violence and gore and yet I found it necessary to do so in detail...

I marvel at modern sports… I mean, some sports I understand, such as running and some other things that are meant to test human endurance and strength. I mean, sure, I sorta get it.

But basketball… and football…. I mean, who thought up the concept of sports like this?

If you really think about it, I mean, REALLY think about it, a bunch of overgrown men running around in spandex pants so tight you can see every flaw, wearing padding to make them look bigger and protect themselves, all running around chasing a little ball and piling on top of other men…

… there’s something pretty Freudian about it all.

If I were a macho man, I’m not sure...

Look, we need to talk. I took in what happened the other day, when you looked in the mirror and said you hated yourself. Maybe you were only talking about the way you looked, I don’t know, but it sure felt a lot deeper than that when I heard it, the way I heard it. You really have to be careful with your words; they have power and energy and a vibrational resonance that you react to whether you realize that or not. It’s proven science, you know, so even when you say things like you’re joking, you know the words can still do damage.

I wouldn’t let someone else talk to you the way you talk to yourself. Why do you think I should let you get away with what I wouldn’t let someone else get away with?

So from this point forward, you are not allowed to call yourself ugly, stupid, or fat. You are not allowed in my presence to say that you’re unworthy, dumb, old or unlovable. If I won’t allow a stranger to say that to you, then you don’t get to say it to yourself either.

Because the truth is, you know it’s not true. You understand this at some deep level, I know, that we are all beautiful in our own way.

Yes, I know it’s hard right now...

Once I thought tears were a weakness. Once I thought I should be ashamed of not being strong enough to control my tears. So I hid them, from everyone, and never let anyone see me cry. I had learned early on as a child that tears only made daddy angrier, made him not listen, and sometimes made him hit.

The same thing happened in my first relationship, too, at least, my first grown up relationship. He would be ugly, angry, and sometimes even vulgar, but when I cried, he’d only get worse.

Tears only made men angry, made them violent, made them shut down and not listen. They said tears were emotional blackmail, instead of simply being true expressions of pain, hurt, sadness.

So I learned early on to hide the tears as much as possible. I hated it when I cried, feeling foolish, weak.

But o...

(Here’s a story I wrote based on something that my son really did back in about 2006. I wrote it back then, but I’m not sure much has changed since then…lol Enjoy. Don’t laugh too hard at his expense!)

The grocery store had a good sale on some of those pre-prepared casserole dishes, like lasagna, and Mexican chicken casserole, and those types of things. They were three for 10 bucks. Really, you can’t beat that for a night when you don’t feel like cooking but still want something better than fast food. Plus, I figured it would be easy for the kiddo to make himself.

What was I thinking?

I mean, how many blogs have I posted about the brat boy nearly burning the kitchen down? Still, he’s almost fourteen (he’s seventeen now, almost eighteen!) and should be able to cook some things for himself, right? Plus, those pre-packaged meals have very easy to read and clear instructions on them, don’t they?

Don’t they?

Well, okay, so I figured I’d let him cook dinner last night...

I was having one of my infamous talks with Ryan, you know, the types of talks where we speculate and extrapolate on just about anything and everything, stay up late and solve all the problems of the known universe, then go to sleep and wake up the next morning and totally forget all the solutions. In this conversation, we talked about the universe. I personally think the universe is a living, breathing entity. It expands and collapses (breathing) and it grows and changes, in consumes and purges. We are but parasites to the host which is the universe, and much like our own bodies have parasites that we are host to, sometimes these parasites are good and sometimes they are bad.

Sometimes the parasites are the very thing that keeps our bodies alive. Other times we take meds to wipe some parasites out completely.

Is the universe as a whole really that different to us?

I do think that humankind is a bit egotistical to think we are the biggest, highest, top of the chain beings… of course, not all humans think this, but I bet it would be a safe bet to say that the human race as a whole has a bit of a superiority complex when it comes to ‘life’ in general.

Has anyone seen T...

Today, Michy would like to instruct you on how to help your teen child prepare a snack for himself. We’ll take you step by step through the process, and if you skip any steps, it’s okay to come back to them and use them, or even use some of the steps more than once.

Step 1

Listen to the boy whine for at least 40 minutes about how hungry he is, while you tell him repeatedly that there is food in the kitchen if he’s hungry.

Step 2

Remind teenaged boy that you bought Easy Mac for him in the cabinet for moments just like this, when he was hungry but it wasn’t dinnertime.

Step 3

Listen to teenag...

Forgiveness

The first thing I want to point out is what is, to me, the most important part about forgiveness: Forgiveness is not a gift you give to another, but rather something you do inside of yourself, for yourself.

The other person need never know. You can choose to extend forgiveness to the other person, if that is your choice, but it is not necessary to forgive inside of yourself and heal the pain you carry for a wrong another has done to you or that has affected you.

Forgiveness doesn’t mean reconciliation nor does it mean you have to allow a behavior that can hurt you to continue to hurt you. Forgiveness is, in essence, the acknowledgment inside of yourself that the person who has wronged you in some way is a fallible human being, and that, like any human being, they made a mistake worthy of your forgiveness.

Now, ...

Okay, so the title isn’t exactly true. Bear with me… or if you prefer, bare with me. I don’t mind a little nudity now and then. Just keep the arse off the leather, man. Off the leather. (inside joke)

I DO NOT edit my blog posts as much as I should, usually in too big of a hurry to get the information out, so yes, sometimes I make mistakes. We all do.

I say this, because if I didn’t say it, sometimes some wise ass will come along and tell me where I dropped a comma or used too many periods in my ellipses, and of course, they always spell it ellipsis. When they insult my writing and editing, they should at least take the time to use the proper words. Plus, they aren’t periods unless they are being used as periods: like, you know, at the end of a sentence and such...