Inauguration - Third Installment

Anna's friend, Steve, was arrested around 1 p.m. on inauguration for putting a hand on a policman's arm. But he wasn't just handcuffed and hauled off to jail. The arresting officer threw him to the ground and kicked and beat him. Then he went to jail to the taunts of the officers.

One of the police was a black woman and when she began berating Steve for protesting, he asked her what Malcolm X and Martin Luther King might think of her views. She kept her mouth shut after that.

Steve stayed in jail for the next 24 hours. They would not release him until he signed a paper stating he would take a drug test once a week for the next year. Everyone arrested in the protests that day had to sign the same form, regardless of their alledged crimes.

Anna and the rest of the crew picked Steve up around 3 p.m. on Friday, Jan. 21, and immediately took him to the emergency room because of the pain he was in from the beating the day before. He had bruised ribs. Some in ER congratulated the group for their efforts. We saw Steve a week after his return and he was still having a great amount of back pain.

As soon as Steve was treated and released from ER, they began the drive home. Anna and another friend did all the driving because everyone else was too exhausted. They did not want to spend another night in the nation's capital.

I plan on going to St. Augustine and interviewing Anna and her friends more in depth in the next week so I can compile a more in-depth article and try for a broader audience. Suggestions are welcome.

Second Installment - The Inauguration

Before Anna and her friends left St. Augustine, they posted a request on the Internet for a place to sleep once they arrived in D.C. The First Presbyterian Church, four blocks from the capitol, responded and gave them a warm place to crash each night.

When Anna's friend was arrested, the officer noticed her friend wore an "I love Jesus" pin. The policeman said, "How can you be here protesting our President and wear a pin like that?"

I never knew protesting and Jesus were mutually exclusive things. Perhaps someone should have told Jesus when he protested against the moneychangers in the temple.

Anna and her group arrived late Wednesday night after an accident in the snow and ice. It took them over 24 hours to make a 13 hour trip, but they continued on their journey determined to make it in time for the inauguration.

The next day, Thursday, Jan. 20, was bitter cold. They hooked up with thousands who decided to not go to the prearranged free speech zones set up around the inauguration route. Instead they took to the streets and began advancing. There were concrete blocks to keep out vehicular traffic but they assumed since they were pedestrians they could continue. Anna lost track of where she was and moved with the crowd. Her friend told me they had no idea they had advanced as far as the actual route and it scared the police.

Anna said they continued shouting as they marched. "Not Our President," "Show Me What Democracy Looks Like. This is what Democracy Looks Like."

"I saw police with big hoses spraying something. I thought it was water which would have been enough because it was such a cold day, but it was mustard spray," Anna said. "I was pressed against a building as I watched these cops with crazy looks on their faces with sticks and batons just hitting people like crazy. They just kept repeating these motions as if they were robots with that crazed look in their eyes.

"The people who were getting hit with the spray began vomiting. They had snot and tears running down their faces. It was like someone hit them with Tabasco sauce right in the face."

Then guys with backpacks began setting up impromtu triage stations with medic signs. They offered water and milk of magnesia to the victims of the spraying. Anna watched as one of these men was arrested for helping out the victims.

Tomorrow: Anna loses track of her friends as one of them is haulted off to jail.

Bush Inauguration Protests

My 23 year old daughter just returned from Bush's Inauguration in Washington. This trip was the first one she had taken without any parents in tow, and she learned a whole lot more about this country from that one trip than all the educational vacations I had planned for her in the past.

She traveled with six other students from St. Augustine, Florida to the nation's capital to protest their dismay over another four years of Bush as president.

"I told myself, 'if he becomes president again, I'm going to be up there screaming with my fists in the air,'" she told me the week after her return. "There's a war going on in this country against personal freedoms and rights as citizens. It's a war on rights as human beings."

And so she went despite the ice and snow, and she came home even more motivated to continue her protests. But she also came home to questions. Many asked her what she thought she proved by going.

"It's horrible if these things happen and no one yells," she said. "It's fueled me more to improve the community I live in and to fight against what's happening."

She saw first hand what the police do when confronted with anyone who disagrees with those in power. Mainstream media reports about injured policemen upset her because she saw the protesters being beaten and kicked and sprayed for simply marching in the streets. She marched toward the inauguration route with thousands shouting, "Who's streets? Our streets."

Tomorrow I will share what she saw and heard on January 20, 2005, as King George sat on his throne in front of his paying guests.

Letting Go a Big Sigh of Relief

For months I have been keeping a big secret, but now I can take a huge sigh of relief and exhale a whole lot of pent up air.

Today when my monthly newspaper hit the streets, so did a surprise to our readers. My husband and I announced that we would no longer be publishing the paper after the next issue. We made the decision months ago and while we hoped that someone would purchase us that has not yet materialized. But we realized no matter what happened, we had left the newspaper business in our hearts and we knew we had to stop before it showed in the paper.

We also made another decision about seven months ago and have been living with that secret all this time because of the paper. We are separated, and I will be moving away within a very short time.

It's pretty amazing that we have managed to put out the paper together while our marriage fell apart. I'm actually proud of the way we have managed to handle ourselves and so is my husband. Now we have to deal with the rest of the world handling it.

I just told one of our readers when he asked why we were stopping the paper. He said, "Why are you doing this to me?"

The Rights of the Press

As a journalist, I am often asked if I can get information that regular citizens cannot just because we are the press. Although some of my colleagues may disagree with me, we are not entitled to any great rights or privileges than other citizens. We have just learned how to seek out information.

The other night at a commission meeting a colleague - and I use the term loosely - kicked city staff off of a table she was using because she claimed the table was reserved for the press. I was disappointed they moved. But they moved next to me, sitting in the regular seats.

"You know that's BS, don't you?" I asked the Fire Chief when he settled in the chair next to me.

"I know it, but I didn't want to start a fight," he said, "but as far as I'm concerned she can kiss my . . ."

Sorry but I believe furniture purchased with public funds belongs to everyone. There is no elite seating for the presss.

So to my colleague: "Get over yourself."

Monday Morning Blues and Chills

On this cold, cold north Florida morning, I attempt to thaw my brain and get back on track. Yesterday about all the writing I could squeeze out of these fingers occurred with some fairly lame emails.

I have to write up an interview with a disillusioned commissioner who is leaving office bitter and disappointed. I would rather write about my newly found character Mickey Sanders. On Saturday at my writing seminar I used him as an example of putting a character in a scene and having him react. Interesting exercise. One of the participants wrote the scene but had the character act not as the character but as the writer. Since I knew the writer, I called her on it right away and she admitted the truth. Great lesson for everyone.

But my Mickey Sanders told the bag boy at Winn Dixie to "bite me." And it felt pretty fine to let my character speak. Great catharsis.

Is anyone out there?

Is anyone reading my blog? I know when I can see the printed word and my byline in a magazine, newspaper, or book that others have the opportunity to read what I write. With this blog I feel somehow disconnected with readers. And then I wonder, what if no one ever sees what I write? Did I really write it? Am I really here?

I am really not an existentialist, but sometimes I wonder.

Burning Books

I covered a story at a local school the other day. The Rotary Club purchased a dictionary/resource book for every third grader in the county and they were delivering to a school in my newspaper's coverage area. The students eagerly tore open the books when they received them.

"I never had my own dictionary before," said one student. "I never knew they could be so cool."

The dictionaries contain sign language, braille, periodic tables, geographical information, and many other things that might expand the minds of these young students and show them the world.

One of the Rotarians told me, "You know one of our members is very upset that we are doing this."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because we bought dictionaries that contained an Arab calendar."

God forbid that we should try to understand anything at all about another culture. Why didn't they just burn those books when they came? That's what they would have done in Nazi Germany if the books had contained parts of the Torah.

Reading Baghdad Burning

I just read an interesting blog, but I could not find a way to respond to it. Baghdad Burning is written by a woman in Iraq who says no phones and no electricity for long periods of time is the natural condition these days. Many are attempting to flee the country before the borders close the week before the election.

Yes, it's a fine situation there.

She wondered about a news release she just read that stated George W. Bush had stopped searching for WMD and she wondered if anyone ever believed in them in the first place.

I want to respond to Baghdad Burning that there are many of us in the United States who never believed any of it from the very beginning. While we are supportive of our young men and women in Iraq, we are not supportive of the lies and propaganda that we have been fed. But now that W has been elected for the first time, certain things are coming to light.

My heart goes out to all of you in Iraq. We are all One people and unless we All come to that realization, it will destroy us all.

Characters - Love or Hate 'Em

Do protagonists have to be likeable? I have always believed so, but if recent works I've read are any indication others do not share my belief.

I just read a short story where the narrator was bigoted and selfish. By the end of the story I did not care that he had redeemed himself because I had learned to dislike him from the very start. First he made fun of a blind man and then he questioned if the blind man had married a "colored" woman. He did not want the man in his house.

During the course of the story story he proceeded to get drunk and despite his opening to the blind man by the end, I did not like the man nor did I like the story. I like stories where characters change for the better, but because of the short story setting, I did not see where this man's changes would last since they occurred over a three hour period.

So likeability in this case became a matter of believability in the character's ability to embrace change.

Mickey Sanders Becomes Real

As I wrote a character profile for my bartender with the baseball cap, I learned his dark secret that haunts him.

He was raised in a southern Baptist home where his truck driver father and housewife mother taught him that homosexuality was a sin and Satan-driven. But Mickey ever since he could remember always dreamed about men and never felt anything for the girls who flitted in and out of his life. He has never told a soul nor has he acted on any of his urges.

He hates his parents and he hates his life. And so he keeps the baseball cap in place. He succeeds as a bartender because he listens. He fails as a friend because he never responds.

Mickey will do something dark most likely to himself in this novel.

Creating Character

I love creating a new character, especially if they are the antagonist or have some juicy secret. Last night as I ate dinner at my favorite bar/restaurant, I watched the bartender. I think I might use him in my new novel.

Mickey Sanders wore the baseball cap low on his forehead. If someone wanted a good look at his eyes it would require getting into his face and looking up into the brim of the visor. But one look at his square jawline and lips set in a straight line would discourage anyone from getting that close to him.

The hat protected him from others, and it protected others from his wrath.

Now why does Mickey Sanders want to shield himself from the outside world? Stay tuned, because right now I haven't a clue!

Blogging and Writing

Here we go. I've been blogging for two months now and am just getting the hang of this thing. I'm not even sure who reads my blog or how many hits I get, but I know I enjoy putting it out there.

My head is spinning this week as I try to learn out to develop a web site and examine ways to get my blog out there.

Man, all I want to do is write!

Quality of Writing

I polish my craft, I hone my style, I work my fingers and then I read an "Oprah" picked novel and discover that craft, style, and work sometimes have nothing at all to do with success.

Recently I read one of those "Oprah" picked novels. Point of view completely distracted me in this piece. Everytime someone spoke, the point of view shifted to that person's inner most thoughts as they spoke. I became distracted with that but continued reading.

I did not like the main characters. One of them was completely despicable and the protagonist did not fare much better in my eyes. I never understood her motivation for throwing her life away with the despicable man. Yet I finished the novel.

Why?

Because the story held my interest. I kept hoping I would find a redeeming quality, a reason for actions, something to explain. It never came, but I turned each page hoping it would happen.

So is story more important than craft and characters? I still maintain that craft and style go hand in hand and the characters must remain with us. I also believe that protagonists must have some likeable charactertistics. I do not want to feel dirty after reading a story as I did with this novel.

All I can do is continue on the path I have chosen and remain true to my ideals for my writing. And if Oprah calls I'll say, "Why thank you very much for finally choosing a novel that combines craft, style, characters, and story into one profound experience."

Oh, yeah!

The Writing Teacher

The fog lifted slowly on the Santa Fe River on the morning of our first writing session. Four writers sitting in a loft of the banks of the river found their voice and created magic.



Writing is such an isolated activity, I found myself entranced by the sounds of others creating. I usually participate with my students, but on this day I listened to the tapping of fingers on a keyboard as one of the participants wrote on her laptop. Another preferred the old-fashioned pencil and brought a dozen finely sharpened instruments to sketch a story about her husband. Another lay on a chaise with a fine pen and a legal pad. The sounds of her writing remained mute and only the sight of her pen moving from margin to margin on the pad gave away the magic she created.



"I just got started," the pen writer said when I called time.



I reminded the students of Somerset Maughim's great advice to beginning writers: always stop each day's writing in the middle of a sentence.



The next day no blank pages stare back at the writer, just the possibility of finishing that sentence, even if the original intent blew away.

Freelancing as a Career

I took a month to finish my third novel that haunted me for almost three years. And then I realized I need to actually earn some money! So I began the painful process of once again looking for markets to pitch ideas or send reprints.

Before I fell asleep last night I read an article on how to make the most of ideas for articles. I had no trouble sleeping at that point because the list of ways to sell myself exhausted me.

There has got to be an easier way!

First Amendment Rights

Thomas Jefferson wrote the Declaration of Independence because his strength lay in his use of language to present powerful arguments, rather than in his political savvy.

He believed “freedom of speech cannot be limited without being lost.” Throughout written history it has been the writers, whether dramatic or journalistic, who have brought us diverse ideas from which we are able to choose our own believes.

In 2000, the A&E Channel’s Biography series choose the 1,000 most influential people of the last millennium. As the list narrowed to the final five, it became difficult to predict who might receive the number one slot because all the obvious candidates had already been chosen.

Someone whose name does easily flow off the tongue but whose influence on our modern society cannot be denied claimed the top position. Johannes Gutenberg was a simple German simple workingman trying to make his job easier when he invented the printing press in 1450. From that time forward the greatest ideas of the millennium and beyond came to be known by the masses. Without the means of the printing press, the ideas of the greatest inventions and ideas would not be known to man. What type of world would we be without the literature, political treatises, the varied religious documents, and poetry?

These ideas, diverse and prolific, provide us with the basis from which to form our own opinions and to create our own art, whether it be poetry, painting, sculpture, or religious or political tracts. And it is the writer who puts those words on paper to express the art of language. Writers have long been the first and last vestiges of Thomas Jefferson’s plea to resist censorship in any of its guises.

That is why I have been so concerned about an organization to which I have belonged for the past three years. The Florida’s Writers Association has as its motto, “Writers supporting writers” and has provided me with many opportunities to expand my base as a writer across the state. Recently, the political winds of censorship permeated the core of this group who should stand above all others in zealous protection of freedom of speech.

At the annual convention in November, a film was shown that had been produced by FWA’s president. Caryn Suarez had solicited photos and videos from its memberships to provide a year in review for the organization. Last year’s first place unpublished poetry winner, Henry Burt Stevens, submitted a video-reading of his Royal Palm Award poem, “Victory.” Suarez chose to lead the film with this artistic reading.

I could justify the placement of this poem in the video and offer my own interpretation of certain lines that caused a great stirring of controversy, but I will not. I will not because it does not matter what the poem means because it is one man’s offering on a topic, and it is his freedom of expression. It was Suarez’s freedom of choice that put it on the film.

The protests began before the film even finished at the convention. Suarez was banned by the rest of the board of FWA from selling the DVD, which she and her husband had produced at their own expense. Suarez was hounded and threatened with lawsuits from writers across the state. But the controversy started even earlier when the board met at the beginning of the conference and a member put a motion on the floor that would block any member who wrote “political” material from becoming a member of FWA.

My first reaction to that news was to kick that person off the board, but by censoring that person’s opinion I would also be participating in what Jefferson would call the loss of freedom of speech. I am grateful that the motion did not pass and cooler heads prevailed.

However, the controversy still continues with FWA as a new president is being selected for the new year. One FWA member wrote an email to the general membership chat board, which crystallizes everything for me. This person vehemently opposed the showing of the poem at the convention because this writer disagreed with the content of the poem. I did too, but I will fight to the end for that person’s right to express himself. I have the option to write my own poetry expressing my own opinion. However, my colleague who shares my opinion of the poem believes that if the poem must be explained and cannot stand alone then it should be relegated to a specific, narrow audience.

The email asked the candidates for FWA president to take a stand. And guess what? This writer had the stand all laid out for them. If the candidate would show courage and state “what is shown to the membership at large must be reviewed by a committee of peers,” then this writer, a member of the Florida Writer’s Association would support that candidate.

I would remind this writer that this very policy began one of the Hitler’s first actions in creating the Aryan state. His committee of peers began censoring books in Nazi Germany and even went so far as to burn piles of books that did not fit with the government’s narrow definitions of acceptable expression.

Perhaps this attitude is not so surprising in a country founded on the principles of freedom of expression and that now has “free speech zones” wherever the President is going to appear. In Pittsburgh Bill Neel was arrested for refusing to go into the “free speech zone” before President Bush’s appearance in 2002. He told the press, “As far as I’m concerned the whole country is a free speech zone.”

Apparently not anymore.

Defenders of the First Amendment must protect all of our rights of expression and remember that a difference of opinion only makes us stronger.

John F. Kennedy said in 1963, “When power corrupts, poetry cleanses, for art establishes the basic human truths which must serve as the touchstone of our judgment.”

And writers above all others must stand tall in defense of tolerance of expression of all opinions or we are doomed to become one voice, one opinion, one life — bland and milk toast copies of whatever the party or religion in power deems us to be. And when that becomes the norm, the all the work of Gutenberg and all the writings of Jefferson will have been in vain.

Writer's Block

The dreaded phrase: writer's block. I did a book talk at a women's club last week and the inevitable question arose.
"Do you ever have writer's block," the little old lady in a red suit asked.
"No, I don't," came my cocky reply.
And I usually don't until this week. Now I find myself finding every little thing else to do besides sitting down and writing an article.
Perhaps there is a reason I cannot write this piece on a young man from my area in Fallujah with the Marines. My deadline is two weeks away and while I have written perhaps the first 300 words, the rest does not come. And that first 300? Forget it — it does not do what I envision.
So I dusted my sewing box today with three years accumulation of dust. I do not sew anymore.
I fight the little voice inside today that suggests perhaps my computer will accumulate dust just like that if I do not break out of this block.
My solution? I am blogging and I do not have writer's block here.
Next I will eat leftover pizza and who knows what inspiration that might bring.
Luckily as a freelancer that Iraqi piece is not the only one sitting on my desk waiting for my inspiration.
Perhaps I will write about the garden club unearthing a sign from an old truck stop or maybe I'll turn to Wal-Mart and turn my frustration on the supercenter that threatens to impinge on our community here in north Florida.
Or then again perhaps I'll go to my novel on big box developers — much more satisfaction there because in fiction, the little guy can actually win.

The Grind

My writing life is a love/hate relationship. There are days when I have so much to do I do not know where to start. I find clearing my desk must occur first, but then I get caught up in so much of the clutter, that I do not get to the real work at hand.

My novel calls to me but since it will bring in no money in the near future, it often gets the shaft. Yesterday I managed to get back to it. I am planning a retreat away from here in early December. I am going to go on a retreat to the keys and hole up in an apartment for seven days until I've got this novel nearly finished. It is possible to do because I'm approximately 15,000 words away from completion, but it is the completion that will take the most concentration. All the threads are there, I've just got to sew them all together.

Today I must put on my make up and heels and go to the Gainesville Woman's Club for a talk on A Lethal Legacy, my second novel. I am grateful for this opportunity to hone my public speaking skills and to sell my books, but it does require putting on some armor to put myself out there in such a public way. Later I am meeting with our newly formed Gainesville writer's group where I will share information from the writer's conference I just attended. I'm going to take my lap top and in between the two events in Gainesville, I'm going to go to a dark coffee shop downtown and write a chapter on Sweet Lady. I think I love today.

Life in Bush Country

I'm working on an article on a family with a son in Iraq. They are putting together 45 goody bags for their son's unit and the community has donated money and items to help with the project.

I sat with the grandmother, sister, and mother yesterday afternoon as they made chocolate chip cookies. I wondered how they voted in Tuesday's election, but did not want to ask. The mother said without my asking that she had voted for Bush because she thought he would provide the strongest war leadership and with a son in the middle of the fighting she had to go with him.

The grandmother said those people who did not want Bush or protested our presence in Iraq just did not know the good things we had brought to that country. She intimated that not supporting the war meant folks did not support her grandson. I pointed out to her that those I spoke to who did not approve of our presence in Iraq still had the utmost respect for our troops.

I could not say anything more since I was in their home doing an unbiased article on their efforts. But for the first time since Tuesday I felt extremely isolated and alone with my views. After I finished the interview I went to the cocktail party addressed in the previous blog.

Today I feel let down by humanity and my writing has taken a back seat to my depression.