by Pari

Oh, so many thoughts, so many ideas. I wanted this to be a profound last post. Instead, let me tell you a little story:

Last week I had an early morning dream. Someone asked me for my health insurance card and I couldn’t find it. Panic-stricken, I emptied all the plastic cards out of my wallet. Each one — credit, tea club, sandwich, vitamin, the kids’ insurance, gas — spilled out onto the table, but none had any writing on them. Instead all were an unattractive gray with nothing to distinguish them from each other . . .

I woke up knowing that the dream meant something important. On the surface, it was easy to decipher. The health insurance card represented my last true financial tie to my husband. From a purely self-protective stance, I’d decided not to proceed with the divorce because I didn’t want to be without coverage in case, God forbid, the results from colonoscopy/biopsied polyps had been bad. Last Wednesday night, I found out that the polyps were benign. Thursday morning, I had the dream.

Obvious, hunh?

The gray cards offered a transparent interpretation as well. With the divorce and with Murderati’s end, my identity seems unwritten again, a blurry future. You’d think that’d be scary, worrisome. So why didn’t I wake up from the dream with any sense of sorrow or fear? Why did I awake with wonder and determination? I think it’s because as long as I’m alive, I can look forward with chosen hope. That’s what I’m doing today as I say goodbye to this forum. Choosing hope.

This April many things have been said. Our regular readers have learned about some of the struggles we’ve faced as bloggers, writers, and human beings. Some. We’ve all shared what we could, how we could.

For more than seven years, this group blog has been a big part of my life. I can’t believe the time has come to really say goodbye to it. JT has been here since the beginning; without her help (and Randy’s too!) Murderati would’ve never been born. Alex has been here since almost the beginning as well. She is another hero who has dedicated so much time to the effort. Other writers have come and gone, gracing our blog with their stellar prose and unique perspectives. We’ve argued, taught, explored, cried, laughed . . .

When I first started thinking about a group blog, I did it because of the conventional wisdom at the time. Writers needed PR to sell their work. Group blogs were a great way to do it and to cross-pollinate — to find more readers who’d take a chance on lesser-known authors like me — so I pushed and invited and then we assembled the first seven writers to make Murderati a reality. In the process of opening our worlds with you, an astounding community blossomed.

And that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it? Most people I know, at the base of their beings, want to feel true connection with others. Murderati has been that connection for me, for all of us.

Thank you for sharing the precious gift of your time and voices with us. May your lives be filled with joy and wonder.

May our paths cross many times more.

_______________________________

The future

Many of the ‘Rati will be posting discussions on a new board: http://murderati.proboards.com

I’ll check out that message board format after my current family emergency settles down. I do plan to keep writing blogs somewhere, probably on Mondays — probably weekly — since I’m in the habit now. Please, if you want to stay in touch, find me on Facebook, check out my frequent gratitudes there, or look up my name online to find me in my next authorial incarnation.

Bless you all and thank you,

Pari

by Pari

Title#1
Adventures in colonoscopy-land

(Are you still reading?)

If you are, you’re already doing what I wanted to write about. Though it may have been fun to take you through the bends and kinks of my innards, my main goal today is to look at when we do things we don’t want to do because we know we need to. (Yes. I’m making an assumption here that this blog is worth reading.)

Title #2
Who died and made us all Puritans?

Decisions such as undergoing colonoscopies, closing down long-running blogs, or, frankly, opening ourselves to parenting, all require faith. They rest upon the idea that putting ourselves through some kind of pain — or struggle — will ultimately result in something good.

Title #3
The Puritans were wrong

We’re not all a bunch of losers who constantly need to atone through physical hard work and emotional self-flagellation. But most of us also aren’t going to get very far without putting ourselves in a position to experience pain, sadness, or regret . . .

This last week has been a really difficult one for me. Each unhappy event can be directly traced to a decision I made voluntarily, one I knew would try my body/heart at some point:
the colonoscopy
the upcoming end of Murderati
becoming a parent

And yet in the trials of these experiences, I feel only gratitude for having made those decisions because I know I needed to — for my health, for my future writing career, for my wholeness as a human being. Stepping into risk with my eyes open allows me to embrace all the unexpected good that goes along with that action. Difficulty doesn’t equal negativity. It doesn’t always equal growth either.

It’s just not fun.

However, I do believe that a certain amount of pain is necessary in a fully lived life. The urge to protect myself from it is powerful, but the urge to grow and learn is stronger. And I’m very grateful for that.

Questions:
1.  Do you remember a moment you decided to do something you knew would be difficult/painful, but you did it anyway?
2.  Was it worth it?

by Pari

It’s spring in New Mexico. For some parts of my large state, that means mercurial shifts in temperature with low 80s one day and upper 40s the next. For the southern part of the state, it’s a breath of beauty before scorching summer sucks what little rain might have fallen back into the air before it ever hits the earth.

However, there’s one thing that spring means for everyone and everything in NM:  hellatious winds. We’re talking all the levels of Dante’s hells combined into one. Daily gusts from 60 or 75 mph. Winds that strip fruit trees of their fragile whites and pinks. Blizzards of petals slapping sand-blasted faces and swirling into banks at sidewalk curbs. Highways closed due to zero visibility. Soil transformed into angry clouds of murky brown.

I can’t sleep this time of year. Winds roar at night. It’s not the weird banging of branches against my bedroom walls, it’s the unsettledness of the world that gets to me . . . The lifting up of things better left on the ground, the battering of new plants just trying to set in before the ravages of drought-ridden summers . . . It’s the horrid knowing that someone’s smoldering cigarette butt, carelessly cast out of a car window, will destroy mountainside forests that took centuries to grow.

This year, I’m thinking more about the winds than usual. They usher in a new season, presage change. When I take my long walks after work, the violent movement of air forces me to keep a stronger center so that I don’t get pushed off the sidewalk into the street. There’s powerful symbolism in that for me. So much of my life is changing drastically: A long marriage facing its end, shifts in culture and responsibilities at work, the end of posting on a blog I’ve loved and nurtured for seven years.

And yet I feel much less adrift in the middle of all this flux than I ever have before. With my knees bent and my body lowered against the gusts, I’m building in a certain — new — ability to sway rather than break.

I don’t like when people tell me that with one shut door, others open. But in typical contradictory style, I also do feel the optimism intrinsic in movement, the blessed knowledge that the only constant is, indeed, change. I’m sad with the end of my marriage, of Murderati as we know it, of what I thought I knew about myself on some levels. Yet I look bright-eyed to the future, to possibilities in these most windy of life days.

Questions for today:
1. What is spring like where you live?

2. Have you ever noticed a sense of internal centeredness when you would’ve expected otherwise?

(And yes, I know this is the long goodbye this month, I just had to give everyone a break with a more general post.)

Dear Friends of Murderati,

April marks seven years since we started this adventure. So much has changed. We’ve lost dear friends. Met new ones. Survived makeovers and transitions. Gotten publishing contracts. Stopped writing. Started again.

The writing industry, publishing, marketing, public relations – all have changed too. So has the way people stay connected and buy books. As the world becomes faster, time becomes even more precious. All of these factors – and many others — have weighed into our decision to say this long goodbye.

During this month, we’re inviting former contributors back for final posts (Naomi Hirahara has already responded!). At the end of the month, JT and Pari will post their final entries. After that, JT is going to work on a Murderati makeover to create a useful archived site so that none of our posts will be lost and all can be used as resources/inspiration for the people we’ve touched –through our words — and will continue to touch in the future.

Most importantly, we don’t want to lose touch with you. You’ve been the driving force behind the Murderati community. So we ask each and every one of you to join our Facebook page where the authors of Murderati will post to share news, new releases, and deep thoughts. That way, too, you can still interact with us. 

Many blessings on all of you. It’s been a wonderful 7 years. 

Murderati

by Pari

Too much to do
Too much going on
Too much to manage
Too much to feel

Each day a chasm of shoulds and oughts
Each day a trial born of sorrows and nots
My heart a platter of food run cold
My body sensing each cell grown old

And yet, in a moment, of unforeseen clarity
A thought, still nascent, nurtures a true soul charity
Could it be?
Will it I rue?

Pari, do it now. Go to the zoo!

I search the hours of vacation time earned.
I finish one project, avoid starting two.
I sigh, my fingers bent round the ergonomic mouse.
What folly this? To what insanity succumbed?

I run to the car ere my mind might change,
My face the red of a woman deranged.
Quick unlock the lock and click the belt!
Hands gripping a steering wheel the sun yearns to melt.

Will this risk leave me burned
Work piling higher, tasks undone, unconfirmed?
Oh! So much to think!
Oh! So much to do.

But sometimes, I just have to go to the zoo!

Today’s questions:

What do you do to relax on a beautiful day?
When was the last time you gave yourself a break?

by Pari

This week I’ll finish the second half of my training in basic mediation. The experience so far has forced me to examine some of my hitherto subterranean assumptions about conflict, motivation, communication . . . and my writing. As a result, I’m currently working on an idea that remains woefully incomplete, but that might interest the ‘Rati.

The role of mediators is to help people in conflict come to mutually acceptable solutions. If mediators are good at their job, those solutions are generated by the “disputants” themselves. Whatever the mediators think of the individuals involved, the goals remain the same. Basically, mediators are the guardians of a process; they hold it foremost in their actions and words to create a space of trust and hope, so that the conflicting parties can move forward from their seemingly stuck positions.  The mediators’ fundamental stance is one of respect for their clients and a belief that the clients can come to solutions.

Some writers do this too. They honor the process of writing to the point where they spend their time discovering “what their characters want to do” within the story to make it whole. They may guide the process, but give the characters permission to expand beyond what may be been first planned.

Other writers are more like architects. From the moment they begin thinking about a story and their characters, each component is defined and part of a sound structure that might, possibly, be flexible enough to withstand high winds, but that already has shape before the first word is typed.

Freeform writers don’t dare have a goal — unlike mediators who absolutely do — and just want to explore, explore, explore. They may go back and polish or change after the fact, but their initial approach is all about the discovery.

Are there other predictable writing stances?

Egoists? Do they think their stories and characters are all about them?

Sadists? Do they put their characters into impossible situations just to see them suffer?

Masochists? Do they kill off beloved characters and cringe during the entire writing of the story?

Bosses? Are there a group of writers that demand their characters work hard and get the job done efficiently?

I don’t know! I’m just playing with an idea: Do writers have predictable approaches to their writing? And, if so, do readers sense these fundamental stances and, unconsciously, select the ones that are most copacetic with their own fundamental life stances?  

What do you think?

by Pari

How are you?
Recovering from the Stupor Bowl?
Feeling self-righteous because you didn’t watch it?
I’m in a philosophical mood today, starting this blog for the 3^rd or 4^th time in two weeks. It’s not that I lack inspiration or subject matter. It’s that I’m not quite sure how to verbalize my latest train of thought. You see, I’ve been thinking about
competitions
winning awards
pushing toward goal after goal
judging others’ work.

And I haven’t come to any conclusions. I simply have several colorful — and related, I think — skeins of yarn that might, someday, knit into a nice something.

Skein 1:  During the last few weeks, I’ve been reading novels for a statewide contest. Having been on the other end of this type of activity, I know what it means to have bragging rights as a nominee for an award. But did those bragging rights really give me anything but pride or internal validation? And, nowadays, there are so many awards for just about everything that I am not sure they have the same power they once did. And who am I to judge anyway?

Skein 2:  I’ve been working to lose weight per doc’s orders (thank you, ldl — you bad cholesterol, you). When I reach one goal, I immediately think, “Wow. I could lose more!” What’s with that? The same thing happens with exercise, because achieving the same thing day in and day out seems somehow like a waste (and it’s not efficient for fat burning/cardio, now is it?)

Skein 3:  How does all of this relate to being here now? How can a person remain in the present or appreciate the present when all focus is on constant improvement, winning, pushing forward etc. etc.?

This isn’t existential angst at all. I’m merely continuing my journey of examining absolutely everything. Every. Damn. Thing.

So, what’s your take?
Are writing/literary contests meaningful?  
How does a person reconcile wanting to constantly improve with wanting to live in the Now?
When does a person gain enough expertise to judge another’s work?

by Pari

This is being written in real time. Two, maybe three, minutes without editing. At least as much as I can do without editing. You see, people always talk about how they can’t find the time to write. Hell, I complain about it all the time, especially since I started working full time and am so tired when I come home from work. Mornings are out because I have to get up earlier than I’d like in the first place so that I can exercise. But writing, ah, writing, it’s exercise for the creative body and it needs its expression too. So, how long does it take to write, say, 100-500 words. I don’t know. I’m writing this as one of my kids goes to the bathroom ( I know, it’s not very glamorous that, but that’s the test I set up for myself), just typing as quickly as I could without editing until my kid gets out of the bathroom and we head to the store. It’d been two minutes now . . .and the door is opening. 178.

Day two: I wanted to make a point with this speed written blog. Namely, that it’s important to power through excuses because, most of the time, excuses are the stuff of fear. Of what? Of not being good enough, of not being profound enough, of not being able to hide from the fact that we’re never satisfied as creative with what we’ve created. The truth is, that’s a good thing. To be self-satisfied is to kill creativity. At least, that’s what I think. So here’s the blog. I’m going to type until I reach two minutes and then I’ll spend three or four to edit and then that’ll be it. I’ve already completed the equivalent of one double-spaced page and that was in  123: 2 minutes exactly
______________________________________________________________________

I wrote the first two paragraphs of this blog in a very short time . . . and decided not to edit. They’re not brilliant, I’ll grant you that. But they’re evidence of something that I have to face myself. There is always time to write! I noticed two things while trying to go as fast as I could:

1. I couldn’t stand to make typos. I had to correct them and that took time I could’ve been creating.
2. I wanted my writing to make sense and it was such a struggle not to go back and edit small phrases and punctuation while in the writing process. However, I only paused a few times, only corrected a few errors, too.

There’s no real profundity here, just a test that I’m sharing with you this week. I had originally thought about writing a blog about prejudice or something commemorating Dr. King, but this topic intrigued me.

After all, Dr. King didn’t let excuses or fear stop his mission, did he?

So today, why don’t you try this experiment too? Set a timer and go for 1-2 minutes in the comments and see what you come up with. It might be fun. It might reveal something interesting to you. Or don’t share the test with us . . . but do leave a comment. I’m actually home today and can answer.

By the way, this last segment — with its self-consciousness and spell checking in real time — took me 4:29 to write.  249 words.

by Pari

Writers need to stay healthy, right? While some are able to determine their days and schedules, the whens of
getting up
getting to work
eating
exercising,
many, like me, work 8 – 5 gigs that have requirements out of our control like when we have to:
get up
get to work
eat in order to get up/get to work.

And the times we can exercise must somehow fit within those other external musts.

So, as part of my ever-increasing efforts to keep healthy, I decided to buy a good blender during the holiday season. I had heady images of making my own soy and almond milks, mixing extraordinary concoctions that would burn fat, give me energy and take off 20 years from my wonderful — but older — body.

I didn’t want a juicer because I feel like the fiber in foods is healthy for us and should be consumed, but I wanted a way to incorporate more fresh veggies into my life without having to eat more salads. (I bring large salads to work almost every day for my lunch.)

At first I looked at the Kitchen Ninja and VitaMix blenders. From the packaging, I got the impression that these machines  — if purchased — would probably massage their owners after a hard day’s work and burp them after overeating at that Super Duper Tapas buffet. In addition to the off-putting price tags, I felt uncomfortable beginning a relationship with machines that promised so much.

Who wants to be disappointed?

With my 20 percent off coupon in hand, I walked the store’s aisle envisioning my life with each powerful tool. After too much consideration of too many choices, I decided to buy a five-speed (including “ice crusher”), dependable, plain old KitchenAid. Nothing fancy. A blender that would basically pulverize the food I wanted in the way I wanted it to be done.

Now I’m inventing odd recipes. Today’s breakfast was a concoction of frozen berries and cherries with fresh apple, cucumber, celery, avocado and chia seeds . . . and soy milk. Yeah, I know. It sounds weird and tasted a bit different than a chocolate milkshake, but I liked it. My kids even tried it, though they added sugar to the mix.

The main thing is my $85 purchase is, indeed, living up to its promise. And I’m pleased rather than remorseful with the purchase.

So today’s questions are:

1. Do you have any wonderfully healthy — and tasty — recipes for blended drinks or treats?
2. Do you have a kitchen appliance that you adore?