I attended a “Hooley” this afternoon, a sort of pre-St. Patrick’s Day celebration. I met some nice people there and gave them my business card, telling them that the blog link on the back would take them to my Irish music blog. Au contraire! This is where they will end up. So, to my new Irish friends, the link I meant to give you is:  celticomaha.wordpress.com




Writing conferences, retreats and lonely husbands

Last weekend, I attended the Nebraska Writers Guild fall conference in Aurora. This coming weekend, I’m participating in a writers’ retreat with my small “generative” writers’ group. My husband may forget what I look like.

Typically, the NWG organizes a big spring conference in the Omaha-Lincoln area and a fall conference further west, in hopes of reaching more of the writers throughout Nebraska. We’ve gathered in Aurora the past two Octobers. The board brought in national speakers, to small town Nebraska. Several members had the opportunity to pitch their books. (I didn’t because I’m not ready.)

Friday evening began with author readings. Whomever chose to, had five minutes to  read something they’d written. I decided I was going to give it a shot this year. I selected a short story I’d written and spent two hours at home, honing it down to 5 minutes. I arrived in Aurora, one-hundred twenty-three miles away from my home in Omaha and checked my messages. My husband texted that I left my abridged short story at home. I quickly rummaged through the stories I’d brought to give to my non-author librarian sister-in-law. I quickly made scratches and x’s on one of the stories while other readers read. They draw our names so I had no clue when I’d be called to read. Luckily, I had time to figure out which parts of my story I was going to read. Like many writers, I prefer writing over speaking or reading aloud, especially in a large group, so I was nervous. I did okay. My friends said so, anyway.

The next morning, the conference began. It was difficult to get up at 8:00 am and head to the center. I had been “hostess” to an impromptu wine tasting in my room the night before.

An agent from NYC spoke on “Promoting Yourself as an Author Before and After Publication.” A marketer spoke on “Effective Social Media for Busy Authors.” A New York Times Best Selling author enlightened us on Book Bub and an author from Dallas, also a bestseller, spoke on “Lessons from the Self-Taught Path.”

Taylor Stevens, the self-taught author/speaker and bestseller told her story–a child raised in a religious apocalyptic cult. With only a sixth grade education, she faced many challenges when she left the cult as an adult. With no work history or job skills, she struggled to find work. She went to garage sales and bought boxes of used books for $5-10 and resold them individually at a slight profit. She was raising two children at the time. Her life was a lesson to us all who want to give up when we can’t get published. She overcame many difficulties and now writes thrillers. http://www.taylorstevensbooks.com

I would guess there were close to 100 people or so at the conference. We did a lot of networking. Some sold books. Some caught up with old friends. And many came to my room after the Friday evening readings and drank wine until 1:00 am.20151003_151934


This coming weekend, I’m participating in a writers’ retreat at Mahoney State Park. Our small, but mighty generative writing group plan a special gathering each year, usually in the fall. We find a location conducive to writing and make reservations. We each decide a topic we will present to the rest, all six of us. We have done this for over 12 years and look forward in anticipation every time.

When we plan the retreats, we pick a theme. For example, when we met at the Willa Cather home a few years back (see “Bat at Cather Home” story on my home page), our theme had to do with books by Willa Cather. Another retreat featured a movie about Beatrix Potter so our theme was called “Child’s Play.” We followed that retreat with “A Spoonful of Sugar” the next year. We started the evening watching the “Saving Mr. Banks.”

Our retreats are a combination of honing our skills, learning new information and having fun. We allow plenty of time for”free write” when we go off by ourselves and write whatever we please. We typically have at least one session where we write from a prompt and share. The retreat ends with “Bedtime Stories” on the last evening. We gather in a cozy room, bring our hot cocoa or tea, maybe some popcorn or a snack and we read something we’ve written. No critiques, just listen to stories.

This weekend, our theme is “A Recipe for Success in Writing.” The topic was inspired by my recent acceptance into the Nebraska Life cookbook, which I’d hoped would be available in time for the retreat. This time we’ll watch “Julie and Julia” about the person who blogged while cooking from Julia Child’s cookbook.

Our topics include goal setting, writing an author bio, blogging, and memoir cookbooks. I have asked my fellow writers to bring a recipe that is meaningful to them. I’ve planned a prompt for them to use with the recipe–tell the story. Was it a favorite that Grandma cooked? Did the dish or dessert appear on the dining room table every Thanksgiving?

The trees at Mahoney State Park are beginning to change, so it will be beautiful.


Maybe next weekend, I should plan a weekend with my “writer-widower” husband. Maybe we can watch some football together for a change.

Going Batty

It happened again. I was with a group of writers, this time at a cabin by a lake, and a bat appeared.

A few years ago, I was in Red Cloud, Nebraska, home of Willa Cather. My generative writers’ group arranged to have a retreat there. We stayed in the Cather home that is now a “bed and bring-your-own-breakfast.” People can stay there and bring in their own food to prepare. The rooms are all named for Willa Cather’s books and I was lucky enough to draw the bedroom that was Willa’s room. It was all very exciting and interesting.


Me in Willa Cather’s bedroom

The retreat was going well. We were enjoying the camaraderie and writing prompts as planned.

Most of our retreats include “Bedtime Stories.” At the end of the day on Saturday, we gather in our jammies and read stories we’ve written. No critiquing, just listening to the stories. It’s great fun.

So, as we prepared for the stories, one of the writers went upstairs to get her laptop. The rest of us waited in the parlor. A blood-curdling scream echoed through the wall. One of the writers got up to see what was wrong. Soon she was screaming, too. A bat was in the house. It had trapped the writers on the stairs. It flitted back and forth in the hallway. One writer, a farm wife, tried to herd the bat outside, but it kept flying back and forth. The screams sounded like the doppler effect. You could tell the location of the bat by the intensity of the scream. It was an adventure and the full story is on this site. (I mistakenly created it as a permanent story on the main page. Click on the title at the top of the main page.)


The Cather Home in Red Cloud, Nebraska

The recent bat encounter occurred July 10th at 2am. I was with writers, a different group than before. We stayed at a cabin by a lake. Our hostess had warned us that a bat had been sighted the night before but we all opted to come anyway. At dinner, we talked about the bat and made a plan. Since bats are considered endangered, we couldn’t kill it. We would catch and release.Those of us who are less squeamish would capture it, if and when it showed up.

Most of us slept in the loft where four beds were set up, two on each side of a bathroom. The beds were out in the open. The most fearful person got to sleep downstairs in the enclosed bedroom. I lay awake, reading until around 1:30 a.m. I had just drifted off, when I heard a scratching sound. I perked up and listened. The shrill cry of the bat came next and before I could react, it was on my head. I said in a calm, but somewhat loud voice, “The bat is back.” Another gal came over to my bed with a towel, but the bat had disappeared. We couldn’t find it anywhere. So, she returned to her bed and I laid back down in mine. About two minutes later, it was back. Again, I said, “It’s here.” She returned with the towel and we looked for it. It flitted back and forth under my bed and then we lost it. Cathy raised the bed ruffle and there it was, clinging to the material. She threw the towel over it and it stopped moving. Apparently, it thought it was safe with the towel hiding it. Cathy picked up the towel-wrapped bat and took it to the front door, releasing it into the night air.

I thought my head felt strange. I touched my scalp. It was damp. Did the bat bite me and cause bleeding? I went into the bathroom to look, but it wasn’t bleeding. I thought the bat had peed on me. So, I washed my head as best I could. I went back to bed and started thinking about my death. How long did I have before I would show signs of rabies?

I googled “Medical care for bat bites.” I read “Seek medical attention as soon as possible.” What did that mean? Could I wait until tomorrow or did I need to go somewhere now? I called hospital in the nearby small town and they were no help. They told me to call Poison Control. “No, the bat bit me. I didn’t eat the bat.” But they insisted I called Poison Control because “they had all the protocols”and could tell me what to do.

As a nurse, I knew better, but I called anyway. Poison Control sounded irritated over the phone. “Why are you calling us?” So, I was back to square one. I googled “rabies” again, this time asking “when do symptoms occur?” The answer: most of the time 2-4 months after exposure. Maybe I had some time. I wasn’t seeing angels yet. Then I saw the disclaimer. “however in some cases, symptoms begin 2-4 DAYS after exposure. Great. I was going to have to cut the weekend short.

The next morning, I left, driving 70 miles back to Omaha on 4 hours of sleep. I’m not sure how I managed to stay awake, but I did. I went to the Methodist ER and they were wonderful. I had a rabies shot in my right arm, and several gamma globulin shots (to boost immunity). Two in each thigh and one in my left arm. The worst part was the tiny ones in my scalp. Also, there was a small bite I hadn’t noticed in my left thumb, so they injected around that 5 times. It wasn’t as bad as I thought I might be, but I don’t care to ever do that again. I have to have another booster. I had my first booster that Wednesday and then another today. One to go!

The shots are no longer given in the abdomen. That stopped in the 1980’s, thank goodness. People reported they were pretty bad. The ones I got weren’t too bad.

I have decided that, if I’m with a group of writers in an older house or at a cabin, I’m taking a “bat kit” with me that will include a box to put the bat in. (Don’t release the bat. Save it so it can be tested.) We’re pretty sure my bat was rabid because of the moisture on my hair that I thought was pee. The doctor said it was more likely saliva. Also, the bat had been very erratic, like it had an injury. The person who saw it the night before thought it had hit the ceiling fan and broke a wing. But the doctor said it could’ve been acting that way because it was sick. So, always keep the bat after you capture it. Put it in a box or plastic container. Otherwise it’s shot time!BAT

My bat kit will include:

  • gloves. Don’t pick up a bat with your bare hands. Thick gloves should be worn.
  • netting to cover my head in bed in case the bat comes near
  • a butterfly net for capture. Or an old t-shirt. (The Humane Society says not to use a towel because the bat’s wings and claws can get caught in the small loops of fabric)
  • a container to put the bat in like a small cardboard box or food container (without the food!) The Humane Society also recommends a piece of cardboard that might work as a temporary lid or scoop to get the bat in the box.

When my generative group found out about this encounter with the bat, one said, “You know what the common denominator is here, don’t you, Sue.” I said it was hanging out with writers. Their reply, “No. It’s you!”

In my most guttural voice, “I’m Bat Mom!”
Batman and Robin



I Saw It with My Own Two Eyes

In our critique group, we often run across areas in our work where we have inserted unnecessary words. “Tautology” is a new word I learned. It means “needless repetition of the same thing using different words.” Examples are “I went there personally.” “He made it with his own two hands.” “Frozen ice covered the road.” “She made predictions of the future.”

Do you see the repetition in each of those sentences? (And in my title?) Obviously, I see with my eyes and I have two of them. So a more correct title would be “I Saw It.” Boring title but at least it’s not redundant.

Crazy sign

I wonder what prompted the need for this sign? Confusion? Was one problem solved but another created?

A sign at a bank ATM reads “Enter your number one digit at a time.” Is there another way? I wonder what would happen if I pushed two buttons at once?

A library in California warns, “Beware silly signof pedestrians on foot.” I suppose pedestrians in cars could pose a different problem.

Some signs may not be tautology but are just plain funny. I saw a sign on a door in an Iowa truck stop that read, “Electrical personnel only.” Every time we stop there on our way to Chicago, I look around for the electrical people.

Once, while driving across Illinois on the toll road (I-88) and dealing with major road construction, a temporary sign sat above the “45 Minimum Speed” sign. The temp sign read “45 Maximum Speed.” My son, the driver, saw it and said, “Cruise control, don’t fail me now.”

No trespassing

Humor is often used in signs. As a teenager, I lived in a small town surrounded by ranches and large spreads. I remember one sign on a fence post read, “No hunting without permission, and DON’T ASK!” Another sign on a very narrow gravel road out in the middle of nowhere warned “No parking.”

One of my favorite signs is the one below. I can relate to it on many different levels, especially as I continue writing my novel with all its twists and turns.

What are some of the funny signs or statements you have seen?

one way



Pulling the Plug

A recent court case caught my attention. At the sentencing, the mother of the perpetrator said that her son, who beat and shot the girl, wasn’t responsible for her death because the family “pulled the plug.” She claimed it was their fault their daughter died.

I was appalled by her words. Not only was it cruel for her to claim that Mary died because her family “pulled the plug on her” but it was scientifically incorrect. Mary was dead before “life support” was withdrawn. The actions of the criminal and his cohort caused her death.

As a health care professional, I have seen families anguish and suffer over “pulling the plug.” Part of it is the fault of the language we use. I would like to see everyone stop using terms like “withdrawing life support” and “pulling the plug” as the phrases are not accurate. Many families believe they are killing their loved ones when the machines and medications are stopped, but they aren’t because there is no brain activity prior to removing the ventilator.

It is customary to perform tests such as EEGs to check brainwaves and apnea tests to check for breathing before removing any machines. Some of these tests are required to be done more than once before considering removal of the ventilator and other interventions. “Life support” is a misnomer when there is no brain activity. All the machines are doing is circulating blood through the dead body.

It’s confusing because, why would we use a machine to keep a body’s circulation and oxygenation going? Because first we need to verify that the person is truly deceased.

A victim of a gun shot or a head injury or an automobile accident comes into the Emergency Department. At that point, the patient’s status is unclear. They have been resuscitated and tests such as CT scans and MRIs are done to assess the injury. It isn’t until later that a clearer picture becomes apparent and the patient is failing or has never responded. No matter how hard the medical team works, the patient will never recover. The brain damage is too severe. At this point, the machines are keeping the circulation and oxygen going through the body so the heart and other organs are still functional. But the brain is dead. The family may be approached at this time regarding organ donation. The medical team gives the family time to absorb the inevitable. The family starts to grieve and make some decisions.

It’s not the family who killed the patient. It’s the gunshot wound, the head injury, the massive destruction of the car accident, or the criminal behavior of others that killed the patient. Families should not feel guilty about the decision to remove the ventilator and discontinue the high powered IV drugs that are oxygenating the body and maintaining the blood pressure and circulation.

It would save a lot of people, who are already grieving, the added guilt feelings and additional anguish if we changed the terminology to what it actually is–organ support.IMG_0550