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01 December 2008

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Village Café

Raffaella@4-writers.com

A Time for Plans

I have decided to keep the Café open during these winter holidays.I had neither special programs nor family engagements while, on the other hand, people who were still around here at the Village might have appreciated its warm atmosphere. There is very little worse than, during “official” holidays, finding that your neighborhood has suddenly turned into a ghost village, with not even a lonely cow-boy in sight (the chef suggests reading this last remark accompanied by some typical Western tune).

Ida was a new client of the Café; she had decided to step in for the first time after a walk in the almost deserted Village. She was sitting at the bar, looking at her mug. "Any more coffee?" I offered.

"Yes, please" she replied.
"A sudden attack of Christmas blues?"
"I’d rather call it a ‘bout the end of the year blues. I always feel like this when the old year is nearly over and the new is nearly here. I cannot help drawing a line on the blackboard and listing what I’ve found and what I’ve lost, what I’ve done and what I’ve left undone, the promises I’ve kept and those I’ve forgotten about. And I rarely feel satisfied with what I read."

I started telling Ida how I was brought up in a family quite respectful of traditions and ceremonies. When I was very young, I had to recite a prayer to the Guardian Angel every night. And since I could not sleep to order, I kept on thinking about this Guardian Angel looking at me and judging me for my misbehavior.The "well-done" section of the blackboard was usually destined to things I had to do to please other people.The "no, no!" section was full of little sins I had committed following my own young will - so I often felt ashamed of what I was at the same time more proud of--poor little thing!

"From then on", I added "I had written so many lists on so many blackboards…"
"And you still feel ashamed of things you should be proud of?" Ida asked.
"No, I don’t." I replied. “After some time and a lot of work, the "well-done" section had started to include more and more personal projects supplanting other people’s expectations. You said you are going through ‘bout the end of the year blues? Well, this is not a revision time for me.

"The transition between the Old and the New Year is so sudden I have just not enough time to think. The count-down, the booms, the toasts, the songs; you dance and dance then you walk back home, your most elegant shoes in your hand and when you wake up you only have to change calendars around the house and that’s it-- you are in the New Year.

"I usually bring my blackboard with me when I leave for Summer vacations," I continued.
"Well, I’m not with you. Summer is for wiping boards and leaving lists at home, don’t you think?"
"Perhaps it should be, Ida. But I think I have never recovered from ‘the student syndrome’ and I still consider September as the beginning of everything. September is the time of the year I feel more energetic and full of enthusiasm. That’s when I make plans for the future. To me, New Year’s Eve is more a time for wishes. But I do not think mine is a widespread habit."

"Who knows? Maybe you could just ask. Why don’t you hang a message board on the wall and ask your clients to contribute with personal experiences and thoughts? You could even set a theme every now and then for reflection or discussion."
"Why not? I promise, I’ll think about that. Thank you, Ida."
"I made you make plans this time of the year too, didn’t I?"
"Well, yes. I guess you did."
"I’d better go now. See you next year."
"See you tomorrow, Ida. And best wishes to you and all the Village!"

T-Zero: The Writer's Ezine
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RedPen

CaLana@4-writers.com

What's the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the term "New Year"?Fresh start?Clean slate? New beginnings?

Reflect on the past year. What'd you learn? What were your best moments?What didn't you accomplish?For every answer, you've got a goal for 1999. Apply them to your writing habits and endeavors this year. And of course, share your successes with the Village. *grinz*

Speaking of neoteric, some exciting Editors have brought some wonderful concepts to T-zero. You may already know them and this month is their debut. Welcome 'board, ladies!

MARGARET CARR (Newbie Notes)
You can probably blame my mother for my interest in storytelling.One of my earliest memories is of objecting to the end of a story she was reading to me. She asked me how I would have it end. Later, I remember wishing a story wouldn't end and we would take turns making up sequels to the story.

Eventually, I started drafting my cousin and my brother to play out stories that I made up as we went along. My cousin got her revenge when we were in our teens and she became interested in acting. However, she wasn't completely successful since I made it clear that I was more interested in writing the plays than I was in acting in them. Strangely enough, in college I was the one who majored in drama.

Fiction '98 was fun and helped me a lot. I did a lot of exploring, in addition to the assignments, and hope that I can pass on both what I learned in the class and outside it. Now I'm a Newbie at WVU proper and it looks like about four times as much fun!

JESSICA LEDBETTER (Literary Visions)
Jessica Ledbetter is a bibliophile from Virginia. She'll be finished with her BS in Computer Science in 2001 and then either a Masters in English or a BA in English not too distant after that (since she's nearly finished with that English degree anyway.Her interests range from science fiction to whimsical, reflected in her reading and writing.

EDITOR'S NOTE: Her bio is short and sweet, and Jessica's a very warm and bubbly person.She's great to talk with and very talented. So, she fits in well at the Village, eh?

LAURIE LUPOLD (Healthy Horizons)
I was born Laurie O’Toole, yes very Irish. My mother’s ancestry is very German, VanSickles. A very hot combination for sure. I grew up in a little town in Pennsylvania called Bradford. I’m talking small--you sneeze, you’ve passed it. My parents divorced when I was 3.I believe and my father remarried. My Mother so graciously gave him us kids as a little going away present. No resentment there!

My Father and Stepmother were both alcoholics and there was a lot of abuse in our home.Each of us kids only lasted until around the age of 12 and then we either left or were sent away. Guess you could say I was raised in the school of hard knocks and I was the primary teacher.I won’t get into the whole depressing dilemma but I will say I’ve always been very active at punishing myself for all my misfortunes. Quite luckily, I was diagnosed with bipolar and dysthymic disorder before my self-destruction was successful.

It took many years of hard work on my part and a lot of commitment to learn to care enough to save myself. I still have my weak moments but quite stubbornly, will not be defeated. I have become someone who, at times, even I admire.

My writing has seen every phase of my life. It has expressed every emotion and bewildered every challenge. It has been my lifeline and still is. As every writer, I want the honors and finance that will one day come with it but more than that I want it to touch the hearts of people. I want to share important lessons and allow readers to find their place in my writing. I want to give them hope, strength and courage in my words. Most importantly, I want them to know they are not alone, as I was.

I'm presently engaged with 3 children and 3 stepchildren. I’m an animal nut. I’m always growing and learning in my creative as well as my family life. I am strong in mind and work hard to share my compassion with others. I don’t let my bipolar/dysthymic disorders keep me down.

I’m a survivor. I have a strong faith in a higher power, try with all my heart to live by the Serenity Prayer, and always attempting to make positive changes when and where I can in my life as well as others. I’m pretty much the same as my reader, no better, no worse. My motto is, "I’m not perfect, I’m just forgiven!" I can’t ask for much more than that.

T-Zero: The Writer's Ezine
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Note To Self

proof@earthlink.net

It's been a long time since I've written. Since I've sat down, put the world at a safe peaceful distance and felt ink flow through an unseen grain.

Why? I've gone to the computer every night, opened my email, read my letters, and typed my replies. Does that count?

I'm writing, to someone, for someone. Does it count?

I've spent the endless hours of the night Instant Messaging the far away friends who I've brought closer by artifice. Does it count?

Have I done what I set out for myself? Have I written?

Yet, here it is morning, the sky is "Blue O'clock" (thank you [name] if it wasn't for you I'd never found those words. I had the thought before, not those words though) and I'm so sleepy, but I have that feeling.

It's like butterflies in my stomach or a bad cheese sandwich. That's unfulfillment, yeah I remember that. I should write. But all the reasons in the world keep my head in circles:

Last week my car was broken into, and my bag, with my favorite pens, and the notebooks I had done my last writings were all in there. Now they're gone, my thoughts have become futile, in the hands of a faceless thief who'll never read these things.Will he? She? Will they dare to open the books, after finding nothing of value in the bag? Will he read of the pain I professed, the romance I've faked, the lies I've placed in the hands of beings who have never been? How can I write? How can I dare put myself to paper again, only to know it could all happen again? The computers not safe, a hundred disk back ups and with my luck something will happen.

I've sat in this chair almost 4 hours now, I've checked the email again, and all my IM friends are long asleep in their time zones. I've watched Blue O'clock become some obscenity of blaring sun through the curtains.If I'd a record player it'd long be skipping scratching the last ridge over and over, till I was prodded from this seat to flip it.

It's a circular logic that keeps us all at bay, it's a willingness to lull or sit comfortably. When we write we truly pass by these things, we are not "putting" the world at a distance. We are trying to pull it all into us, compress it all to a singularity and then, watch as the BIG BANG overcomes us. We explode. On the page, we pour it all out. Why? Because this is what we've decided to do.

We are exploders. We are that which burst and pushes forth images, scents, sounds, emotions, and life. We strive for no end. There can be no opposition that can control or impede us. We are writers. That which takes from everything around us and forces it together into new visage, of our creation. We are the masters of beauty, the controllers of power, the makers of legend.

We are today. We have taken all from the past and we set straight what we need for the future. We write because we breath. We write because we yearn. We write because it doesn't stop.

T-Zero: The Writer's Ezine
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Copyright 1998 - 2007, Writopia Inc. All Rights Reserved

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Healthy Horizons

media@writopia.com (Laurie's temporary address)

Process, write, feedback and rewrite.

Familiar words to the aspiring writer. At times it seems as if "rewrite" is part of your family name. Then, of course, are those periods of "block." A period to which you question your abilities. As if that isn’t enough, you have just collected the last rejection slip needed to paper your room in its customary "not currently accepting" decor. As an Artist you feel defeated. As an individual you become depressed, second-guessing your entire dream of being successful. The depression overwhelms your thoughts, leaving them disabled.

Many people get the blues. Most often this is a short-term feeling that is quickly overcome. Depression, on the other hand, is not likely to be as easily fixed. It is a "whole body" illness, involving you physically as well as emotionally. As in any other illness, you begin to weaken--overpowering your body’s needed energy to stay healthy.

Symptoms of depression include but are not limited to:

persistent sadness and/or emptiness
feelings of guilt, hopelessness
helplessness
insomnia
fatigue
loss of energy
loss of interest in hobbies, pleasure and even sex
weight loss and/or weight gain
irritability
difficulty concentrating, making decisions and remembering
and persistent physical symptoms that do not respond to treatment.

The result, if left untreated, is deteriorated health and/or suicide.First and foremost, if you’re experiencing any of these symptoms, consult a physician immediately. It is in your best interest that you do not try to treat this alone. You may, however, learn methods to aid in your recovery.

There are many forms of therapy offered to treat depression--far too many to address in one article but we will touch on a couple to begin. Your doctor will play an active roll in finding the therapies best suited for you. Your therapy however, does not relinquish as you leave the office. Many sources of depression stem from behaviors learned. As you commit to your efforts of self-help, you will train your mind to accept new behaviors. Behaviors that will prove beneficial as well as enjoyable.

Journaling is an important method in understanding where our behaviors are born. It is also a sufficient resource to vent and solve problems. You can scream, cuss, have tantrums without the fear of hurting someone you love. Your journal is not just a source of negative feelings though. t is also a place to feel good. Brag about yourself, in fact, I insist that each day you write at least one positive thought about yourself. You will have this as a source when you begin to feel negative.

Even further are the benefits this journal will give you as a writer.You will most definitely be using it to welcome creative thoughts. Journaling is a benefit to anyone who has a thought, a hope, a dream.

One other form of therapy I would like to briefly touch on is laughter. Laughter allows you to release the same energies as anger and/or crying, although it is much more fun. As you will learn, I can be a bit of a nut so fasten your seatbelts--it’s going to be an adventurous ride!

Your mission, should you choose to do it, is to compile a list of things you either did as a young child that drove your mother crazy or things you wanted to do as a child but didn’t dare. Then pick one, two, or as many as you like and go do it. After all who’s gonna punish you now!

Here’s an example: When I was a child I was put in a cast from my hips to my shoulders in an attempt to straighten the curve in my spine. Just days before I was to get it off, I was fishing crabs out of the creek from the bridge and fell in. My mother was steamed but it was wild!!!

Now, I certainly don’t expect you to go through the agony of a cast but certainly do something as entertaining as playing in the creek. You’ll find it to be very stimulating.

Until next time, feed your mind a humour snack!

T-Zero: The Writer's Ezine
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Copyright 1998 - 2007, Writopia Inc. All Rights Reserved

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Fiction Corner

Alison@4-writers.com

Thanks to all of you who entered the contest in November.To find out who won, go to the new Contest Corner. Also on that page are introductions to the judges, and an explanation of how we judged the entries.We had a lot of fun reading them!

I have a new competition for you this month, but it needs some explaining.I want people to send in a Drabble on the subject of change or new starts. Don’t know what a Drabble is? You’re about to find out.I’ll start with the rules of Drabble writing.

Drabble Rules: The One Hundred Word Variant by David B. Wake
Introduction
Drabble is played sitting around a fire, while sipping brandy and partaking of pleasant conversation with friends. The first person to finish a novel wins.

A Doubtful History
The first game of Drabble, a name coined in a "Monty Python" sketch, was played at the beginning of the last century. The winner was Mary Shelley with "Frankenstein" and Polidori, who didn't actually finish during that stormy weekend, came second with "The Vampyre."

The Rules
"One hundred words" must be EXACTLY one hundred words: not a syllable more, not a letter less. In addition, up to fifteen words (title, sub-titles and the like) are allowed. Hyphenated-words-are-argued-about.

The End

(Published here with kind permission from the author)

Sounds simple really, until you complete the Drabble and find you have one hundred and four words, and start raking over your work trying to see what can be eliminated, then going down to ninety nine words and looking to fit just one little word in somewhere...

You can find more information about Drabbles, and plenty of examples at The Drabble Project Homepage at http://www.cix.co.uk/~robm/drabble.htm.

The Drabble Project raised money for charity from the sale of books. The first book was published in 1988 and contained one hundred Drabbles from noted science fiction authors, some of whom are included on the web site.There were two other Drabble books published, one (Double Century) of which is still available. Sadly Drabble Who, a collection of Doctor Who Drabbles written by Doctors, companions, script-writers, producers and fans is no longer available.

Here’s an example Drabble:

Impatience

She saw fear in his eyes. The gun he held shook as he spat out his demand. She calmly ignored him. He went to her desk and shook the gun.
Still she ignored him.
He swept her papers off the desk, yelling his demand again.That got her attention.
"Can’t you read? Bank robbers to cashier number FIVE. I’m cashier number FOUR!"
He looked guilty.
"But your queue’s shorter than his."
"That’s no excuse for queue jumping!"
Glumly he trudged to the back of the queue waiting for cashier number five.She gathered her papers and composed herself.
"Next please!"

With so few words to play with, your Drabble must get to the point fast.It can be funny or sad, contain conflict or peace. Just stick to the word limit.

Contest Rules and other information
The deadline for submitting your Drabble is February 15th 1999.
We will be abiding by the Drabble Rules stated above.
The word count is EXACTLY one hundred words, no more and no less.
Any Drabbles that come in at two hundred words, with half of them hyphenated to the other half will get bonus marks for deviousness, but will regrettably be disqualified.
Entries that include explicit sex, violence, gore, or horror will not be accepted.

The theme is change and/or new starts, in honour of the New Year and the coming Millennium.

As before, the entries will be judged by at least two independent judges who will be announced after the judging is over.

I’d like to make Drabbles a regular feature--a "Drabble of the Month." It’s a great writing exercise, focused and concise. You can’t ramble in a Drabble.

Any questions or comments about the contest and Drabbles, feel free to mail me.

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Copyright 1998 - 2007, Writopia Inc. All Rights Reserved

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Literary Visions

media@writopia.com (Jessica's temporary address)

Naked Truth in Sonnet 130

William Shakespeare’s Sonnet 130 begins as if scorning the nakedness of his mistress but in fact worships the true love that is there.The first line begins with
"her eyes are nothing like the sun" and continues this route, letting the reader see the lack of brilliance in this woman’s features. From the dullness of her eyes to the lack of rose hue in her cheeks, she is set up as quite average, or at least, she lacks the brilliance some sonnet subjects have. This seems strange considering the purpose of a sonnet, but the flow of comparisons only shows the naked gaze of truth the bard has on his mistress.

The poem sets up his un-goddess in harsh light instead of the soft haze one finds in traditional sonnets. This harsh light softens, though, near the turning point of line 9. Here, one reads "I love to hear her speak . . ." Though he then continues to say that her voice lacks the rapture of music, he still loves to hear her speak. This shows that love might, indeed, be felt for this average and plain woman.Though her eyes are dull, she has plain cheeks, and her voice is not the most pleasing, but he loves her. A few more lines build up to this surprising conclusion.

The surprise in the last few lines seems even more a twist on the odd tone of this sonnet. Instead of saying that she is not good enough for him, his realizations of homeliness only prove the "love is rare" in line 13. Perhaps this rare love is that of true love. This love is not the fairy tale love a romantic would write about in another sonnet, but the true love Shakespeare has captured.

Truth comes in many forms, including the harsh sonnet of love that Shakespeare wrote in Sonnet 130. He shows his mistress in the starkness of her beauty, and accepts her. He loves her for who she is and not as some goddess up on a pedestal. No romantic mood lighting falls on the sonnet’s subject. No candles are lit to soften the flaws of a lover’s face. No incense is burned to mask any unpleasant odors. Instead, the poet presents the value of love, unmasked and true. This healthy view of love shines through, overshadowing the dull eyes she has, but not the naked truth woven expertly throughout.

To see the sonnet in its entirety, go to:

http://www.andrew.cmu.edu/user/sorcan/otherpoetry/sonnet130.html

Have a difference of opinion? Think that Shakespeare doesn't show love at all, but something else? Tell me!

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Extra

media@writopia.com

Sergio Troncoso, the son of Mexican immigrants, was born in El Paso, Texas and now lives in New York City. His first book of short stories, entitled The Last Tortilla and Other Stories, will be published in the fall of 1999 by The University of Arizona Press.

Sergio submitted a special piece especially for this edition of T-zero. Enjoy!

A Day Without Ideas

I imagine that one morning I will wake up and have no ideas.One morning I will wake up and only see my wife slowly getting out of bed, just a few seconds before me. I will only see a tired woman rushing to make my son's lunch, and maybe even take a shower, before she answers the calls of my other son, the baby.

The little one sometimes sings in his crib, and one morning, maybe, I will only hear the sounds that woke me up. I will not hear him, I will not laugh at his attempt at melody, and I will not see the brave woman who gets up to take care of him. I will not see anything at all but a tired world, a materialistic world, a quiet world, a non-world. My eyes will function, but I will not see much.

On this morning without ideas, I will take the four-year-old to school, and maybe I won't even talk to him, although he loves to tell stories as much as I do.In fact, I know he is a much better storyteller than I am, so on this morning I will not hear his stories about Captain Morgan, the fearsome pirate.

Once on the uptown subway to school, you see, we saw a poster for Captain Morgan's Spiced Rum and began telling Captain Morgan stories.I never mentioned the spiced rum to him, but on this morning without ideas it will be as if I swigged the spiced rum, instead of just admiring the picture of the pirate. I will be catatonic almost, and I will not listen to my child and his great stories. Lumpaa, the friendly chocolate-munching monster? I will not know about him either.

On this day without ideas, I will probably not even call my wife just to hear her voice, even though I know she is busy at work. What would be the point of it? I know she took her Tamoxifen. I know she feels okay. Her hair has grown back, and is downy soft after the chemotherapy. Often when I call, there is really nothing important to say. We talk for a while, we talk about nice things, and we tell each other we miss the other one, but it's rarely more than that. On this day I imagine, this day without ideas, I may not call at all unless I have something really important to say. I may even consider this call a waste of time.

So on this day, when it finally ends, after the children have taken their baths and they are falling asleep in their colorful room full of dinosaurs and lions and trains and puzzles and books, dozens and dozens of books, too many books, I will not sneak back in to hear them breathing. On this day, they are simply breathing. That is one of the things children do best. They breathe. Especially at night while they sleep.

So on this day, as it turns into a dark night, my children will breathe, and I will not be sitting in the darkness hearing this wonderful sound like some nocturnal vBuddha. It will simply be breathing, and I will not find it boring or exciting at all. It will simply be there, and I will not care. I will simply be there. On this day without ideas.

Be sure to check out Sergio's Espiritu Santo, in the Fiction section, and his interview, in the People column of the 1998 Annual T-Zero edition.
His e-mail address is STroncoso@aol.com.

Copyright

by Member Ali Hawke

I run an informational web site that has been online for over two years.I was shocked to discover recently that someone had copied three of my pages, replaced the Christian references with references to his religion, and published them as his own.

What he had done was infringement of copyright. This is illegal and I could have sued him.Happily, it didn’t have to go that far.After three emails stating that copyright infringement is theft and I would go to a lawyer, the offending pages were removed.

I could do that EVEN THOUGH I did not display a copyright notice on the site.Under the Berne Copyright Convention, which most nations (including the USA and UK) have signed, anything published in any way is copyright of the author. Unless a piece explicitly states that it is public domain and may be copied, copying is not allowed. To make it absolutely clear that your work is copyright, use this format:

If you want to use the copyright symbol, the HTML code for it is ©

An excellent place to get information about copyright is Brad Templeton’s Copyright Basics page at http://www.templetons.com/brad/copyright.html followed by his Ten Myths about Copyright page at http://www.templetons.com/brad/copymyths.html

This page also tackles the issue of fair use.

For more detailed information, take a look at Terry Carroll’s Copyright FAQ (frequently asked questions). This is a six part document written by a lawyer and available at:

http://www.aimnet.com/~carroll/copyright/faq-home.html

The site also contains a list of other copyright sources online, including the US Copyright Act, the Berne Copyright Convention, and the US Copyright office.For those outside the US, start with a web search containing the words copyright, law and the name of your country.

As writers, it is worth our time to find out about copyright.After all, our work could be our livelihood, the thing that pays the bills. If someone copies your work, they have broken the law.

Quips and Bits

by Member Emma Gaulton

Remember Peg Smith's most recent triumph? If not, you can get the full scoop in the November '98 issue. She's given us a taste of the love story she submitted to New Ideas women's magazine.

Where There is a Will, There is a Way

Meredith Kelly hurried across the park. She thought about the message from the lawyer. At last she was finally going to find out what was in the will.She was unaware of the admiring glances she attracted. Her smart little black dress, her style, and class would have been at home on the Champs Elysees in Paris. Her skirt swirled around the tops of her shapely legs in the summer breeze.

She was already running late. She felt so frustrated because she had been delayed. Her handbag had burst open and the bits and pieces crammed into it had spilt all over the pathway. She had heard someone running up behind her. Abruptly a hand had grabbed her wrist pulling her to a halt. "Hey, Gorgeous..."

Her midnight-coloured eyes went huge with fright, she turned, ready for confrontation. A sarcastic utterance died on the tip of her tongue, as she looked from an unwavering wrist up into disconcerting eyes. In an endless moment Meredith took in powerful shoulders, a strong neck, and a dent in a no-nonsense jaw. She was aware of the most strikingly handsome man she had ever seen. His spiked flaxen hair the opposite of her unruly ebony curls. She could feel a molten pool of suppressed passion start to bubble up from where it had been buried for so long.

Meredith pushed those feelings to the side. Instead she let exasperation steam to the surface. Not only was she acting as if she was a moonstruck teenager, she was now running later than ever. All because of some conceited male, "What the hell do you think you're doing. You may think you're having fun...now let me go, or I'll get you charged with assault."

"Come on Honey...I only wanted to let you know that you dropped your sunglasses back there. I'm just trying to hand them to you. Are you sure you weren't trying to pick me up?" he said.

Meredith detested his arrogance. This was ridiculous. She just had to get away. She felt such a fool. She found herself blurting out "Oh, come off it...you'd be the last man on earth that I would look at. I just hope I never have the misfortune to meet you again."

"If that's the way you say...thank you, I'm sorry I even bothered, I'm not sure what gets into you women with your high and mighty attitudes." He looked down at her with such icy disdain that her insides squirmed. Her cheeks burned as she grabbed her sunglasses from him and fled along the pathway without looking back. As he stood and watched, she wasn't aware he held something else that had fallen from her handbag.

It was a short time later Meredith sat in the rooms of Hathaway, Price & Dickens. Sadness and a sense of being alone overwhelmed her. The glow of mahogany and the evocative essence of leather-covered chairs and law books brought back memories of when she was a small child in her grandmother's library.

She recalled being taken to operas, art galleries and the ballet. Fancy Nancy just adored all those affairs and wanted Meredith to share in them even though she was so young. Tears blurred her vision. Now they were all gone and she was alone.

At times she still felt weighed down with guilt. If she hadn't wanted her parents to come to her graduation four years ago at the finishing school in Switzerland, they wouldn't have been in that plane crash."Meredith, do you understand what I'm saying?" Jonas Hathaway's voice brought her back to the present.

Not in her wildest dreams did she imagine this was going to happen. "Meredith, now that you have reached 25 years of age, I want to make sure you understand. Your late grandmother has left you all of Dominion Developments. It's a flourishing company, buying old office buildings and refurbishing them into up-market apartments and penthouses, priced at the top end of the market. You are her only living relative. She regretted that she didn't see much of you as you grew up. Your grandmother wanted to make up for the fact that she was estranged from her daughter, your mother, for so many years."

For a few moments Meredith felt overwhelmed, then she thought of how much she wanted to keep faith with her grandmother's memory."Fancy Nancy has left every thing to me? When does all this ... how long before I take charge of DD."

"It's not that simple Meredith. Your grandmother was concerned that you have never had any responsible employment. Nor have you shown any interest in Dominion Developments. She put a conditional clause to her will. To inherit everything, you must obtain a position as a sales consultant with DD. You must remain there for no less than six months. You're not to tell anybody who you are."

The silence hung there for what seemed an eternity. Only the ticking of the grandfather clock could be heard. Completely disconcerted, Meredith forced herself to speak. She kept her disappointment under control and with a voice that reflected a lifetime of international schools said, "You mean I have to wait another year? What I don't understand, is what happens if I don't succeed?"

"There is a sealed codicil. It can only be opened if you don't agree to these conditions or do not carry out her final wishes."

Meredith left the office; she looked through the trees in the park at the restored Victorian building that now housed Dominion Developments.She wandered on past Circular Quay, weaving in and out of the bustle of commuters as they dashed to catch the ferries.

She sat down at a table outside her favourite café. Meredith observed the Opera House; its giant sails sparkled in the sun above the myriad of boats buffeted along on the whitecaps. The glass walls of DD's apartments around the harbour reflected the sea like a necklace of sparkling sapphires. Her emotions were still on a merry-go-round.

Fancy Nancy's conditions! How was she going to meet them? What was in that codicil? She sipped her cappuccino and brushed back her hair that tumbled across her eye. Thoughts flashed across her mind. Already an idea was forming. There was a way she could convince the present management to give her a position.

A week later Meredith pushed through the glass doors with DD entwined in an elaborate scroll. Now that she had the job it was imperative for her to succeed. She walked across the terrazzo floor to the reception desk.

"Ah, so Meredith, you are to start today. I'll let Peter know you are here." Mae Wong smiled as she recognised Meredith. They had met a couple of days earlier when Meredith came in for an interview. She was older than Meredith was but they had clicked when Meredith had spoken to her in Mandarin.

They chatted for a few moments until Peter De Silva came over and escorted Meredith into his office. He towered over her as he covered her slender fingers with his tanned, manicured hands. With a gaze than lingered just a moment too long, he bent down and kissed her lightly on the cheek. Meredith felt a momentary niggling of uneasiness, surely he couldn't know why she was really here."Sit down Meredith, So you'll be bringing in new business from the overseas market."

"Peter, as I mentioned...when I applied for the position, my father was in the diplomatic service for thirty years. I speak four languages and have a slight knowledge in a few others. Many of the people I have known through the embassies and consulates are now looking to make investments in property here in Sydney. I feel confident that I will live up to your expectations."

"That's good news. We like our sales staff to be hungry. You do understand, of course...it's company policy to let go any consultants who do not meet sale's targets. Let's not waste any time, come along and I will get somebody to help you settle in."

As he strode across the office, Peter De Silva called out, "Andrew, here's a new consultant. I would like you to show her the ropes." Andrew turned and saw Meredith; his eyebrows were raised in a sardonic manner as they recognised each other from their altercation in the park.

His eyes drifted lazily across the swell of her breasts and traveled up to look into exotic eyes that peeped through dark and silky lashes. She could scarcely breathe. In spite of herself, his sensual scrutiny of her body exhilarated her.Her apprehension caused a wave of turbulence to flow through her. Meredith wished a hole in the floor would open up and swallow her.

They stood there looking at each other. When Peter went back to his office, Andrew was the first to speak, "Well now...Honey. Perhaps I should show you the creche at first...that's probably where you belong after your childish tantrum the other day."

Hearing his patronising, arrogant tone, it took all Meredith's self control not to lose her temper. "You're such a Prince Charming.Please don't go out of you way, just point to the desk where I'll be working."

"It's no trouble at all, Cinderella," was the rejoinder.Without another word Andrew showed her to a desk near the one of the windows. She could feel everyone within hearing distance turning to look at her with curiosity. Her cheeks glowed as a flush spread across them.

As Meredith sat down she looked out across the city towards the harbour. With a sinking heart she wondered whether she would last the distance. It was all so new and she had so much to learn. She was shaken out of her reverie by a friendly voice. "G'day, Meredith, I'm Malcolm Smythe. Just ignore Andrew, he hates the thought of someone coming here in competition with him...much less a female."She remembered Peter De Silva mentioned that Malcolm had been with DD since the company first started. "If you don't mind some help from an old fellow like me, I'm sure you and I can be the top guns."

Meredith perused the good-natured face. She liked the way he laughed. It was good to know there was at least one person she could turn to. "Thanks...I'd appreciate any help that I can get."

As each month passed Meredith became worried about meeting her sales quota. It was so important to keep in a positive frame of mind and not let rejections and other niggling things get her down. She was the only female consultant. She felt such a rookie. Often memos that were distributed about meetings didn't make it to her desk. If it weren't for Mae reminding her she would have missed some of them.She often felt there was someone planning how they could take away any clients she was speaking to. She thought about how Malcolm had become her mentor.

Because of him she was more familiar with the art of selling and how to make presentations. He helped Meredith organise her Filofax and advised her when she needed guidance to follow up potential clients. When she was out of the office, she was grateful that Malcolm was always available to look after her clients. His friendly laughter helped lift her out of frequent bouts of depression and self doubt after each rejection. There was constant stress. She worked weekends and it wasn't unusual to find she was working until late at night during the week also.

Although only a few months had passed, to Meredith is seemed like a lifetime. Today she felt really tired. "Here you are...you look as if you could do with this." Meredith looked up, surprised to see Andrew holding out a cup filled with piping hot coffee just the way she liked it.

"Just one of those days, I guess," said Meredith as she felt her heart go up a few beats. It was always the same whenever she was near him.She didn't trust him, he was conceited, and she and Mae had laughed about the excuses he was always making to fob of the personal phone calls from women. Even so the magnetism she felt was almost unbearable.

Just then the intercom rang. Peter de Silva's voice echoed through on the speaker. "Meredith, I'd like you to come over to my office now, if you have a moment."

Andrew gave her an ambiguous look. "I guess you had better go and make your report to the Boss." What did he mean by that? Meredith thought as she went to see Peter.

"Meredith, come in. Close the door." This was the finish of her probationary period. She sat down confidently as she thought how her sales rate had started to pick up, despite the setbacks. Peter said, "There are problems. You don't turn up for appointments. You come in late for meetings. I also had some complaints about you continually approaching another consultant's clients and almost ruining their sales."

Bewilderment crossed Meredith's face. She was stunned. That wasn't true. She prided herself on her honesty and professionalism. Panic seized her as she thought about what would happen if she didn't fulfill the conditions of Fancy Nancy's will. "Peter, this is so untrue. Who complained?"

"Meredith, I can't tell you. The person involved didn't even want to tell me about the problem. They certainly weren't complaining to me. It was only by a slip of the tongue over a couple of beers that I found out about what's been happening."

She already knew the answer. She had seen them all heading off to the pub last night when she was working back. Andrew Sorensen! Every time she turned around she had felt him watching her. This is why he was so friendly all of a sudden, he thought he had got rid of her with all these lies.

Peter finished by saying, " Just take this as a warning. I still think you have potential so I'm willing to give you another chance."Meredith stormed out of the office across to Andrew. This time she was not going to let his attractiveness throw her off guard.

"I don't know what your game is? I'm here to stay, so don't think you can get rid of me as easily as that."

"I don't know what you are talking about. I might just wonder what you hope to find poking around here? Why are you keeping a big secret from us?" said Andrew. His cutting remarks made her even more furious. What did he mean...her big secret, she thought?

Leaves you wanting more? Tell her! Contact Peg at Peg@4-writers.com for the rest of the story.

Copyright

by Member Ali Hawke

This page also tackles the issue of fair use.

For more detailed information, take a look at Terry Carroll’s Copyright FAQ (frequently asked questions). This is a six part document written by a lawyer and available at:

http://www.aimnet.com/~carroll/copyright/faq-home.html

As writers, it is worth our time to find out about copyright.After all, our work could be our livelihood, the thing that pays the bills. If someone copies your work, they have broken the law.

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micarr@4-writers.com

Take Me Out To The Chat

"Where are you?" and "What time is it there?" haven't completely replaced discussion of the weather. But, in a worldwide classroom trying to figure out time differences breaks a lot of ice. Whether it is at Chat or on the Boards, getting to know each other can be the best part of the online experience.

Unfortunately ‘telephone tag’ is simple compared with trying to fix a meeting time when the people you want to meet with are scattered over the time zones.The writer you can’t wait to share a ‘virtual’ cup of tea with may even be in a different day.

Some people still tell time by glancing at the sky. The position of the sun or the stars is all they need. For those of us who want to talk or chat with people hundreds or even thousands of miles away this won't work.If I look up and the sun is overhead I can safely say that it is noon - in California - but what time is it for my friends in Boston? Not noon - to them the sun is well past noon, time for afternoon break at 3 p.m.

Our mutual chum in Scotland glances up and to the west where the sun has set and judges it to be 8 p.m. The last member of our group is sound asleep. A new day has begun for her at midnight. I’ve thought my way halfway around the world, from where I am in the west eastward and what I’ve figured out works for me, but what about the others? Naturally they all think we should agree to figure from where they are. We need a common standard.

GMT or Greenwich Mean Time gives us a common standard. We take our noon time from the site of the observatory in England. Why noon when we start the day at midnight? Probably because it is so much easier to figure out when the sun is as close to overhead as it will get than to decide which stars will be overhead halfway through the night. You can get a pretty good idea with a straight stick stuck in the ground on a sunny day. Just draw a line at the end of the shadow every so often and when the shadow starts to get longer you are past noon.

So we have our standard noontime and logically the exact opposite spot on the world will be midnight. Run a line through the spot from North Pole to South Pole and we have the International Date Line. In theory this is a straight line, in practice it varies a bit east or west where islands or countries choose to keep on one side or the other of it.

Now divide the rest of the world up into equal zones (more pole to pole lines)- let’s make it 24 zones to correspond with our 24 hour day - and we have a way to find out “what time is it there”. Most people prefer counting from zero at Greenwich to twelve at the International Dateline. Which way? Going east we count plus one, two, etc. and west minus one ... five (EST)... eight (PST my home zone) and on.

Map it Out

One very useful tip I recently heard was Finding Time Zones in Windows:

Double-click, on the time shown at the bottom right of your screen. This will bring up the Date/Time screen.

Next, click on the Time Zone tab. You will see a nice little world map and at the top, just under the tabs, it displays what time zone you are in and how many hours, plus or minus, your time zone differs from GMT. Mine says GMT -8:00 Pacific Time (US & Canada);Tijuana. So whatever the GMT time is I can subtract eight to get Pacific Time or if I know my time I can add eight to get GMT.

Then click on the down arrow of the time zone box. You will see a list of the other time zones. Note: You can even get a rough idea of where a time zone is by selecting one of the other zones and watching the map shift to center the new zone.

If you want a map you can print out, which shows the lines bordering zones, go to http://www.cstv.to.cnr.it/toi/uk/timezone.html (Be sure to set your printer to landscape if you want the whole map.) The English translation is rather "interesting" so unless you have some extra time you may just want to print it out to get the map. Time zones are set by law and are modified to suit borderlines and groups of countries or even tiny islands. Look at the International Date Line for an example.

Personal Tracker

Even with maps and formulas it is still easy to get confused. A few days after I posted a message explaining how to convert times, I showed up three hours late for a chat meeting because I forgot to convert. I didn’t want to look at maps or log on to the Internet every time I needed to convert so I configured a simple aid:

Take two ordinary sheets of lined paper.

Label one “DIFF”(for difference), and write -12 at the top, and number down the side to +12 at the bottom.

At -8 (PST where I live) I wrote "ME".(Change this to suit where you are)

At -5 (EST) Write WVU since that is where the home base for WVU, Fiction '98, and most of the Chat times are given in EST.

When the people you want to add know their differences from GMT just write their names on the appropriate lines. If they don’t know, then:

Label the second piece of paper “HOURS” and write times from midnight to midnight down the side with the same spacing as the first sheet.

Line up your time on the second sheet with ME on the first and ask "What time is it there?" Note: Once I realized that some Australian time zones were half hour different I redid my sheets with double spacing!

To find out when to log on for something, such as Wednesday's Writers Night Out Chat, start with the "HOURS" sheet. Find 8 p.m. and line it up with -5 EST then look for ME. My ME is at -8 PST and matches up with 5 p.m. No more showing up three hours late when all the fun is over!

Web Resources

Another great place to find out about time zones and consult a map is:

http://aa.usno.navy.mil/AA/faq/docs/world_tzones.html

Check out the FAQ links while you are there. This is a feast for historical writers. You can learn when time zones first came into use, when they were written into law for the United States, information about Easter, the Star of Bethlehem, and lunar months. You can even learn (much more than I wanted to know) about the clocks and methods used to determine Standard time and the formulas used to adjust them.

If you are not using Windows you can still find your difference from GMT (they call it UST) at: http://www.bldrdoc.gov/timefreq/javaclck.htm. If you have Java capability you will see two times - the UST time on top and under it the time by your computer.

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Emma@4-writers.com

Marg Annis was born in Drumnadrochit near Loch Ness, Scotland. Her family moved to Glasgow, then London. At the age of 22 she decided to emigrate to Australia as a A$20 tourist. She didn't intend to remain here but circumstances changed and he ended up as an Australian.

Her eldest child became seriously ill and Marg spent 10 years rehabilitating her. She has worked as manager of a veterinary lab and then as the first ever female field officer for CSIRO Wildlife Research Division in Canberra. Life in Canberra (Australia's Capital) was better, as there were more suitable conditions here for her daughter's treatment and schooling.

Marg has earned a Bachelor of Science degree (BSc) in health education and worked in Broken Hill as the RFDS (Royal Flying Doctor Service) Education Officer. She then did a Master of Education (M.Ed) at Canberra University and also a G.Dip. in Professional Writing while finishing her thesis. She got hooked on writing at that point.

She has won 2nd prize in an international writing competition, followed by twelve other first & second prizes. She has worked as journalist/editor for a rural corporation and edited/published The Birth to Bacon Series, educational kits for the rural industry. They are international best sellers (on a small scale). She informs me that the video Mating & Reproduction is a joy to behold.

Marg has had articles published in The Canberra Times, The Land, Social Alternatives, as well as some fiction published in Redoubt literary magazine.

She recently felt inspired by WVU's August Fiction '98 to revamp an old story Old Fashioned Courtesy. Courtesy is published in Not By Chance, an anthology compiled of 10 Australian works.

She is a member of Canberra Multicultural Writers Group. A group of 22 people from differing backgrounds, they have received a grant from Healthpact to publish a collection of works. The project is currently with the editor and will be published in January '99. Another story, Alice in The Kadimakarais, which was also written while completing Fiction '98, is currently with a Canberra publisher.She has good reason to expect it will be published.

Marg tells me that Fiction '98 was "One of the most thorough courses I've done."She is now writing a fast track book The Compleat Louse in Word Slingers group.

You came from Scotland, what was your first impression of Australia?
Endless brown dirt and grey green gum trees and so bitterly cold. It was mid-winter when I arrived.

You have full life. What is the one thing you would change if you could?
I wish people would understand that writing is hard work and can be isolating.

How does your life affect your writing?
I grew up in a crisis-ridden family so dealing with crises, which can be frequent in my life, doesn't affect my writing. I rewrite it all into a story.

What is it like to have an article/story accepted?
I've actually had a lot published as I also wrote the National Newsletter for the rural industry with a subscription of 6000. I'm used to being published.It was more of a surprise when my boss burst into my office waving The Canberra Times summer read section shouting, "This is a bit torrid."

Do you create your characters based on the attitudes,physical characteristics, and emotions of real people?
I observe a lot and people often talk to me in quite unexpected situations. I don't know why. A bearded lady accosted me in Woolie's veggie section and we had a D & M conversation about hard carrots and what to do with them. This has to be turned into a story. It's an amalgam of all those things you suggest churning around in my brain and then a story suddenly pops out.

What form of writing do you do? And why?
I write short stories, which generally end up as comic. Life generally strikes me as full of oddities compared to the way I and others think it should be (i.e. the carrots).

Could you tell us a bit about your current project The Compleat Louse?
[While] in Word Slingers group, I got lice presumably from my children and the hysterical reaction by some people to this prompted a short story.

What made you want to start this project?
I'm a research biologist by training and had worked on tracking the life cycle of the British Rabbit Flea as it behaved here prior to introduction of the Spanish flea. The British flea thrives in cool damp conditions. The Spanish flea likes it hot. I am interested in insects so I researched everything I could about lice which became fascinating as they've had such an effect on history, sociology and so on. I'm up to Chapter 6 - Pubic Pets.

How long do you spend writing?
Around 3 hours a day now I'm writing a book.

How much research do you do prior to starting a project?
I enjoy research so I do it as I write and as needed.

What advice would you give to an aspiring writer?
Write and write until something appears that makes some kind of sense to you. Join a group or form one to get feedback. Don't talk about it too much. Just do it and prune later.

What do you think is the most enjoyable thing about writing?
I can please myself and it happens to appeal to others; that's great and if it pays that's the jam.

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