Writer's Block, Entrepreneurship, and Some People's Lack of Business Sense

I suspect I may have writer's block now and then but I get up and move around, clear my mind, do something else, or read a bit about the topic I'm interested in, and the words flow again.

I may have something called Reader's Block, though, because I'm not reading what I'd like to and there are so many ebooks on my Kindle and print books on my shelves that I doubt I'll get through them before the Second Coming. And there are more I'd like to get. Puddles of Ithaca is a charming children's story written by an author I correspond with, and I must download Puddles of Ithaca. Puddles was the author's dog when he was a boy, and Ithaca, New York was his childhood home. Sounds very charming and I'd love to read it. I'd like to get it in print but it's a bit pricey, I thought.

I do spend a lot on books, ebay and Amazon.

As a child I read voraciously to escape from reality, I think, and later read for enjoyment and knowledge. It's important to get a good grounding in literature and I read all the classics I could as well as popular and nonfiction -- for some time reading more nonfiction than fiction, which isn't a good idea for a fiction author.

As I have my own home based business since 1999, and got that established without any knowledge of how to do it, basically, I did read a lot of marketing and business books and talked to people. I try to help out those who are just starting out if they show promise. I struggled on my own for about five years before succeeding so I could support myself without outside jobs, and I have empathy for those just starting out who perhaps don't know the ins and outs of business yet.

I've had numerous calls and conversations with people, though, primarily women, who think that working at home is a piece of cake. I don't know how many times I've heard someone say they'd like to work in the morning in their pajamas when they felt like it. How unrealistic is that! I try to steer them straight in their thinking how hard it is, and how hard I worked, from seven or eight in the morning until midnight seven days a week most weeks, and getting dressed to meet clients when they came to the door, in those days before everything was digital. I try to tell them clients can tell if you're dressed and ready for business by your voice when they talk on the phone. I try to tell them the marketing and promotion necessary, the need for professional business relationships, the organizational skills needed and the discipline. Not to mention the money needed to see oneself through the first five or six years of not breaking even. I spent all my savings on my "baby" -- my medical transcription business.

I'm a sole proprietor, have associates I talk to and consider friends, and refer to, but don't employ anyone directly. I like it that way. Probably could have done better if I had employees but I don't want the hassle of paperwork, hiring and firing, supervision, and the risk involved. I did hire a transcriptionist many years ago on a contract basis and she was excellent. I don't think I could have easily replaced her when she moved to another city, and I didn't try. But she was excellent, honest, and hardworking. I did appreciate her as an employee. I realize that excellent employees are hard to find and don't want to push my luck.

Now I'm a senior and slowing down somewhat. I won't retire before I'm 80. Can't afford to retire, anyhow, and my health is good and I enjoy working. I'm branching out into writing more and more, but my business clients are very important to me and I don't want to neglect them. I'm guilty of hinting that I want to retire to a number of them, and regret that, as I have no intention of retiring. I was delusional, I think, when I started writing a lot, and didn't see how I could have the energy to do both.

Certainly it's working out and I'm balancing both worlds, the medical transcription and the authorship, not taking on any new clients at the present time for transcription, but the faithful original clients are still with me and I'm very grateful for them.

Humans make the business. Let me never forget that. If you don't like people, stay out of business. Maybe hide in a cellar and eat worms.

As far as I know, none of these early adopters I tried to advise have ever succeeded. Most haven't even tried after a desultory attempt at entrepreneurship.

Guess it isn't that easy, eh?

A Play in One Act

Criminal Embarrassment

                                                           

A play in one Act by Kenna McKinnon                                              

Characters:

Prosecutor:      Anne Tagonist

Defendant:       Helen Wheels

Lawyer:           Ima Wünderbar, QC

Plaintiff 1:       Mrs. Froot Loops

Plaintiff 2:       Mr. Froot Loops

Witness:          Chicken Little

Judge

Bailiff

Court Reporter

Journalist:       William H. Macy

President of the University

Men in brown shirts

Chorus

French revue

Ms. Androgynist

Defendant sits in courtroom with lawyer. Prosecutor is on opposite side of room with the two Plaintiffs. Chorus sits in back rows. Bailiff enters.

Bailiff:            All rise. Here come de judge.

(Judge enters. All rise. Judge takes his seat.)

Bailiff:            Order in the court.

Witness:          I’ll have a bucket of KFC.

Plaintiff 1:       KFC here.

Plaintiff 2:       I’ll have what she has.

Plaintiff 1:       I have Chlamydia.

Witness:          What did she say?

Plaintiff 2:       She says she wants clams.

Witness:          Does KFC have clams?

Judge:              No, but Joey’s Only does.

Chorus:            (sings) Joey’s to the world. The Lord has come…

Witness:          Who has come? Speak up, I’m a little…

Chorus (all together):  The Lord.

Witness:          Dullard? Look, I might be hard of hearing but I’m not a dullard.

Judge:              Clam up.

Bailiff:            Order in the court.

Witness:          I’ll have…

Prosecutor:      Stop that.

Judge:              What is the charge?

Court reporter:            (reads) Criminal embarrassment of the first degree.

Prosecutor:      Kill her!

Judge:              Steady, Anne.

Prosecutor:      Sorry, sir. I get carried away.

Bailiff:            We can arrange that.

Judge:              Order in the court.

Witness:          Two hotdogs…

Prosecutor:      Kill the witness.

Judge:              How do you plead?

(Defendant takes stand)

Defendant:       Not guilty, your Honour.

Judge:              How so?

(Defendant looks to lawyer)   

Lawyer:           Your Honour, we intend to prove my client was in Kelly’s pub at the time of the alleged offence.

Defendant:       (burp)

Prosecutor:      Do you have a drinking problem, Ms. Wheels?

Defendant:       No problem. I drink, fall down, get up, drink again. No problem.

Prosecutor:      Where were you on the night of March 17th?

Defendant:       I was in Kelly’s pub.

Prosecutor:      All night?

Defendant:       Yes.

Prosecutor:      Where were you at nine o’clock in the evening on the night of March 17th?

Defendant:       I was in Kelly’s pub.

Prosecutor:      Were you not in front of the Froot Loop residence in Snob Hills delivering cookies?

Defendant:       No, your Honour.

Prosecutor:      These cookies were seized as evidence by the Court and analyzed in the forensic lab by 23 off-duty police officers working 32 days overtime at taxpayer expense. Did the cookies not contain flour and sugar and baking soda and chocolate sprinkles?

Defendant:       I plead guilty to that, your Honour.

Judge:              Guilty to making cookies?

Defendant:       Yes, your Honour. I do make the occasional cookie.

Prosecutor:      Where were you on the evening of March 17th?

Defendant:       In Kelly’s pub. Where were you when they handed out…

Prosecutor:      Does Kelly’s pub have a kitchen in the back?

Defendant:       I don’t know.

Prosecutor:      I rest my case.

Lawyer:           Objection!

Judge:              Yes?

Court reporter:            Slow down. “Chocolate…”

Lawyer:           Objection!

Mrs. Froot Loops:       Boo hoo (takes out tissue and wipes at eyes, which are streaming)

Mr. Froot Loops:         There, there, dear. We can go home soon and water orchids.

Judge:              Order in the court.

Bailiff:            I’ll have a…

Lawyer:           My client is being harassed.

Judge:              Objection sustained.

Prosecutor:      Hang her!

Lawyer (ignores the Prosecutor):        I’d like to call my first witness.

(Witness takes stand)

Lawyer:           What is your name?

Witness:          Mrs. Little.

Lawyer:           Your first name?

Witness:          Chicken.

Bailiff:            Raise your right hand.

(Witness is sworn in)

Lawyer:           Where were you on or around nine o’clock on the evening of March 17th?

Witness:          At Kelly’s pub.

Lawyer:           And what were you doing at Kelly’s pub?

Witness:          Warning.

Lawyer:           I beg your pardon?

Witness:          I beg your pardon?

Lawyer: WHAT WERE YOU DOING AT KELLY’S PUB THE NIGHT OF MARCH 17TH?

Witness:          No reason to yell. The sky was falling. I was warning the establishment.

Lawyer:           Where was the Defendant?

Witness:          In the back making cookies.

Prosecutor:      Ah hah! Hang her!

Lawyer:           What kind of cookies were those?

Witness:          What time? Around nine o’clock on the night of…

Lawyer:           What KIND of cookies?

Witness:          They appeared to be chocolate chip cookies with sprinkles.

Lawyer:           And what TIME was that?

Witness:          That would be approximately nine o’clock at night.

Lawyer:           How can you be so sure?

Witness:          We were timing the cookies to come out of the oven at 9:20 pm.

Lawyer:           And what did you do with the cookies when they were baked?

Witness:          They were hard as little bullets.

Lawyer:           I beg your pardon?

Witness:          I beg your pardon?

Lawyer:           What did you DO with the cookies?

Witness:          We put them in boxes and delivered them to the Youth Emergency Shelter.

Lawyer:           Why did you do that?

Witness:          What? (puts hand to ear)

Lawyer:           WHY?

Witness:          They’ll eat anything with chocolate sprinkles on it.

Prosecutor:      Objection!

Judge:              Sustained.

Lawyer:           Did at any time you observe Ms. Wheels leaving the establishment?

Witness:          The what?

Lawyer:           The pub.

Witness:          No. Helen stayed until the pub closed at midnight then we went home together.

Judge:              Ah!

Prosecutor:      Objection! The witness and defendant are obviously very dangerous perverts.

Judge:              Overruled.

Prosecutor:      Hang them!

Lawyer (to witness):   You may step down now.

Witness:          What?

Lawyer:           GET OUT OF HERE.

Witness:          The sky is falling. (Leaves witness stand)

Defendant:       (laughs)

Prosecutor:      What is the meaning of that laughter? Very suspicious.

Defendant:       Sorry, your Honour.

(Defendant takes stand)

Chorus:            (Sings first verse of Take Me Out to the Ball Game)…

Judge:              Stop that.

Mrs. Froot Loops:       Oh, DEAR, I can’t stand to be in the same room as that pervert.

Mr. Froot Loops:         There, there dear. We’ll be home soon with your kitty binky.

Mrs. Froot Loops:       Oh, I love you so, dear Mr. Froot Loops.

Mr. Froot Loops, glaring at the Defendant:     Hang her!

Judge:              Order in the court.

Witness:          I’ll have…

Prosecutor:      STOP THAT!

Lawyer:           I rest my case.

(Judge recesses court for 15 minutes then returns)

Bailiff:            All rise. Here come de Judge!

(All rise and face the Judge expectantly then sit. The Defendant remains standing).

Judge:              I have made my decision.

Chorus:            (sings first verse of O Sweet Mystery of Life)…

Bailiff:            Stop that.

Judge:              Order in the court.

Witness:          I wouldn’t touch that with a 10 foot pole.

Prosecutor:      Hang him!

Judge:              Order or I will declare a hung jury.

Lawyer:           Jury?

Defendant:       Maybe that would have been a good idea.

Judge:              I have made my decision.

(All wait expectantly)

Judge:              Not guilty due to insanity.

Lawyer:           Insanity?

Prosecutor:      Insanity?

Defendant:       Insanity? I’m not crazy. I’m a drunk. Oh, dear, I’m all confused. (Takes a drink of water from the stand and belches) Oh, that’s better, sir.

Judge:              The charge is insane. Therefore not guilty due to insanity.

Defendant:       (laughs)

Prosecutor:      Stop that!

Judge:              Not guilty of criminal embarrassment. I find you guilty of a lesser charge.

Witness:          The sky is falling!

Lawyer:           What is the verdict?

Judge:              Guilty of making poor quality cookies. They were like little rocks, you say?  Disgusting.

Defendant:       I’m sorry, your Honour. I honestly won’t do it again.

Judge:              I sentence you to a day of community service at the Oliver Community League learning how to make proper cookies.

Defendant:       Thank you, your Honour.

Judge:              Case dismissed.

Bailiff:            There go de judge. All rise.

(All rise and judge exits the courtroom, followed by the chorus singing The Hallelujah Chorus. There is a pile of soggy tissues beside Mrs. Froot Loops, who sobs into another tissue. Mr. Froot Loops pats her shoulder. The Women’s Temperance League enters the room carrying pots of orchids. All exit).

Journalist (outside the courtroom taking pictures and speaking into a microphone):   And here ends a very curious case, ladies and gentlemen. (Clacks sticks together to simulate horses running). The underdog appears to have been vindicated. But wait -- could it be?! It’s a large black limousine pulling up to the front of the courthouse with men in brown shirts wearing dark glasses; ladies and gentlemen, this is incredible! The President of the University appears to be here! And he’s carrying off the Froot Loops in the back of his limousine! There are brown shirts everywhere. What is the meaning of this?

Prosecutor (standing outside with the wind whipping her silver hair about her face, speaking into the microphone): We intend to appeal, Mr. Macy. This crime cannot go unpunished. Death to all perverts! Hang the infidel and her cookies!

Journalist:       Do you mean to say this is not the end of the drama, Ms. Tagonist?

Mrs. Froot Loops (leaning out the window of the limousine): I sincerely hope that nothing bad happens to the Defendant. Hang her!

(The Women’s Temperance League bursts into song and throws orchids at the limousine. Mrs. Froot Loops leans farther out the window and playfully smacks the ladies with her cane, including Ms. Androgynous, who squeals with delight).

Chorus:            (sings) And I think to myself it’s a wonderful world…

Lawyer:           We appeal the appeal!

(Limousine drives away, covered with orchids. Several of the Women’s Temperance League have been knocked down by the blows of the cane).

Chorus:            (sings) Think think think…

Witness:          Make mine an Irish soda bread with beer.

(Defendant and witness exit arm in arm.)

Lawyer to Journalist:  Vous plus avoir belles croupes.

(Prosecutor and Bailiff dance the can can with a French revue coming up the street. Journalist clacks sticks in simulation of horses running)

Chorus sings They’re Coming to Take me Away ah - hah…ah hah ah hah…they’re coming to take me away…

Faintly in the distance Defendant and Witness are heard singing Drink drink drink…

Judge comes out in a leisure suit with a can of beer in his hand and toasts the Women’s Temperance League.

Ms. Androgynist:         I beg your indulgence, sir. I have been somewhat wounded. (She falls to the ground, clasping her breasts).

Journalist:       No, ladies and gentlemen, this won’t make the five o’clock news. Wait a minute. Could it be?

(Mrs. Froot Loops comes staggering down the street, leaning on her cane. Mr. Froot Loops follows her, pushing on her buttocks).

Mrs. Froot Loops:       They threw me out on the street!

Mr. Froot Loops:         Me too.

Journalist:       Could it be!?

Mrs. Froot Loops stops and does the can can with her cane and sings Puttin’ on the Ritz…

Mrs. Froot Loops:       Where’s that pervert?

Mr. Froot Loops:         I’m right here, dear.

My car looks like this

Sketch by Phil Parry (author of "Wishful Thinking")

My car is an old jalopy 67 years old, limping on one bad tire and in need of a paint job. She needs body work for sure and one fender drags. Her engine isn't bad considering her age but seizes up at times. I like her color, fire engine red, you might remember that. She's waiting for the summer when she can show her colors and maybe take down her top.

Your car is much fancier than mine and has a good paint job although her engine doesn't run as well as mine. She's domestic and a smart looking vehicle, white on top like a rain hat I lost my first year in University. Speaking of lost, I haven't seen your car around lately. She costs a lot more than mine and is probably worth a lot more on the market. She has a fancy garage and my car sits out in the rain.

But they're pretty much the same. Want a ride? We could venture sedately into the winter snow towards Christmas and then towards Easter when picnics beckon and dryads hide in trees. Remember the shepherd to his lass? I could make you strings of posies...no gold have I but sugar cookies and roses. Eccentric but unique.

On roses and their beauty: a poem

A gift of pink and white

A rose, what a mistake
A yellow rose no, jealousy and creeping round
underneath the rocks like slimy vines; a rose
grown tall and strong with thorns that bind
One a briar one a flower yet
to seek the sun.
We might rather say pink buds with a white dove singing
blooming gardens while a broken wing
is never mended right, oh blushing rose
Of gifts from faithfulness,
I'll fix the wing.

New publications

I have an article in the Sept/Oct issue of WestWord, the magazine of the Writers Guild of Alberta. Called So You're a Senior and You Want to Write? Another article on resources for newbie writers may be coming out in future.

Rewriting a couple of books.

I've also written a couple of short stories on the robot apocalypse, tongue in cheek. Have yet to get a short story or book published. Grandma Moses was 69 before she painted most of her great works. Am I a Grandma Moses? Maybe not. Let's create Camelot, though, while we're at it. A magical time created mostly, I'm thinking, by reframing memories. Now's the time to make new memories so they don't have to be reframed, just enjoyed.

LinkedIn and muscle engine photos

A parking lot sprawls behind my building. A yellow Mustang is parked there with two motorcycles in front of it. Presumably all these muscle engines belong to a couple of people in the building who share a suite. I've often walked by these parked vehicles and thought they'd make a good photo. What do you think? I'd like to find a magazine interested in these pictures.

I know my photos are those of an amateur but I love to take photos and find neat opportunities to shoot subjects that interest me. I made prints of these and gave them to the fellow who owns the yellow Mustang. Later the motorcycles disappeared for the winter and there's only the Mustang left.

Interestingly, when I first took the picture of the car there was only one bike (see first photo). Sometime between while I was adjusting my camera and the angle for a better composition the fellow or young woman must have parked the second bike closer to the Mustang and left. They must have been bemused/amused by the old gal taking a snap of their motor vehicle beauties.

Something else--there was a better photo of the two bikes and the front of the car, but you could clearly read the license plate number of the second bike, so I didn't publish it. Isn't this a neat collection of toys for someone?

An unlikely combination while I'm talking about bikes and muscle cars, but have you seen the social media site LinkedIn? It's an excellent vehicle (pun intended) for entrepreneurs, freelancers and those job seeking. You can choose a group from hundreds or start your own. I belong to a freelance writer's group and have found it extremely interesting and helpful. Too many discussions to follow but valuable. I found some newsletters for writers I otherwise wouldn't have known about, and also suggestions and links to sites especially for writers. Of course, if you're not a writer, you'd be looking for sites specializing in your field. 

Just a hint; there's a fellow writer on there by the name of Rick Lauber who's a Canadian and Edmontonian, and has written a book called Caregiver's Guide for Canadians. He starts excellent discussions on this particular LinkedIn group. I don't have a lot of contacts but I value the ones I have.

I'm sure there are plenty of good photo groups, too, and I may find some suggestions for selling my photos or pitching them to an appropriate journal.

Re: pitching an article or book--reporters and editors are very busy people. I read advice on LinkedIn how to pitch an idea to a busy journalist. I think with any business communication and especially marketing, one has to think about the other person and their needs. Indeed, any communication must involve good listening skills and empathy. It's not all about us. 

R-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-rrrrrr

A great man but no idol

Jack Layton and wife Olivia Chow in happier times

Jack Layton is dead. I always admired the man although I never voted for him. He was a rare breed in politicians, honest, humble with vision and compassion. Almost alone he brought his party into an enviable position as the Official Opposition. With death staring him in the face, Jack left his memorable letter to all Canadians, thinking above and beyond himself to the future and the good of all Canadians, especially those who are marginalized. He was true to himself to the end. He will be greatly missed. He probably didn't actually write the letter which has touched so many Canadians. And he was far from the "little man on the street" he attempted to represent. Let's be careful we don't make an idol of Jack Layton or allow his party to capitalize on his death. That would be a dishonor to him and to all Canadians.

One of the real heroes I see here is Jack's wife, Olivia Chow, whose presence at his memorial helped to calm and comfort thousands of mourners. It's probable she helped draft the letter he left, and was certainly a source of comfort and support to Jack during these last few months of his life. There are going to be naysayers and there's going to be cruelty. A life is precious and it's hard to weigh on a scale the value of one life for another. As a leader Jack Layton was exemplary and he is exemplary in death. May he Rest in Peace.