Blog Action Day

On any given day, the blogging world is filled with thousands of conversations on topics ranging from making money to raising a family, from personal development to personal rants. Imagine one day when thousands of conversations are centered on one theme—the environment. That is exactly what Blog Action Day is all about.

On October 15th – Blog Action Day, bloggers around the web will unite to put a single important issue on everyone’s mind.

In its inaugural year, Blog Action Day will be coordinating bloggers to tackle the issue of the environment.

What Each Blogger Will Do

Bloggers can participate on Blog Action Day in one of two ways:

1. Publish a post on their blog which relates to an issue of their own choice pertaining to the environment.
2. Commit to donating their day’s advertising earnings to an environmental charity of their choice. There is a list of “official” Blog Action Day charities on the site, however bloggers are also free to choose an alternate environmental charity to donate to if they wish.

Blog Action Day started signing up participants on August 14th, and nearly 1400 blogs with a subscriber reach of almost a million have already joined.

To make your voice heard on the subject of the environment, sign up now. Registration is simple and requested only to keep track of the participation.

You can take any approach and any position you want—the idea is to generate a lot of discussion about an important topic, not to have thousands of voices delivering the exact message. You’re free to post on the topic of your blog as it relates to the environment.

I plan to write about how the latest publishing technologies (e-books and print-on-demand) can help eliminate some of the environmental issues caused by traditional publishing. I hope you’ll be here to read my post on October 15th, and I hope you’ll post your own thoughts on the environment on that day.

[tags]Blog Action Day, environment[/tags]

The Simple Truths of Service: Will You Be a Johnny Today?

Simple Truths has a wonderful collection of inspirational videos available online for free as well as great products for sale.

One of my favorite videos is The Simple Truths of Service with the theme “Customer service is not a department . . . it is an attitude.” Of course, most writers, freelancers, independent entrepreneurs don’t have a department—or anyone but themselves—for customer service or any other aspect of business. But we still need to give customers a little more than they expect if we want our businesses to prosper.

The movie tells the unforgettable true story about a young man with Down Syndrome who changes the culture of a grocery store by giving the customers a little more than they expect. Here’s a warning: Once you watch it, you’ll never forget it! Perhaps it will inspire all of us to make a difference, too.

Related Posts:
How are you spending your dash?
Catalyst: God’s Tool
You May Never Know the Impact You Have

How Do You Stack Up Against the Average Worker in America?

I recently read a post at Dream Jobs Dialog about the results of a productivity survey by Microsoft.

Since many of my readers, like me, are freelancers and work from home, I thought it would be interesting to look at how homeworkers/freelancers compare to employees in productivity.

How do you stack up against the average worker in America?

• Employees work an average of 45 hours a week and consider 16 of those hours (more than a third) unproductive.
  • It’s harder for those of us who work from home to say how many hours we “work.” I’m at my computer more than 45 hours a week, but that includes 5 to 10 hours of volunteer work for my church, a few hours on banking and financial recordkeeping (which is part business and part personal), and 5 to 8 hours on my blog (which is purely for fun). I even do my daily devotional and Bible reading on the computer. Work time includes 20 to 25 hours on e-mail, Internet, phone calls, and administrative tasks and about 20 to 25 hours on billable work.
  • Some of the e-mail/administrative time is wasted (and some of the e-mails are personal), but I think most of the time is productive, not always in producing income, but at least in supporting money-making activities or keeping me informed. For example, I just scroll through my list of 150+ feeds, click on the ones that are updated, skim the title and opening paragraph, and click off immediately if the topic isn’t relevant for me. I take the time to read (and sometimes comment) only if the topic is really interesting.
• Average time spent in meetings is 5.5 hours per week, and most workers think meetings are unproductive.
  • Meetings are rare for me—occasionally a client comes to my office to meet to discuss a project, but generally my business is conducted via e-mail and phone.
• Workers receive an average of 56 e-mails per day.
  • According to Eudora statistics, I receive an average of 163 e-mails per day.
  • Between the spam filters on the server and in Eudora, I get few spam messages. Many of the messages are newsletters or posts from e-mail list subscriptions for professional organizations. About 25 to 40 are from clients or prospective clients.

Leave a comment and share how you stack up to the average worker. Writers and other freelancers, I’d especially like to hear how much of your work time is billable and how much is spent on other essential work that doesn’t produce direct income (administration, marketing, and other related tasks).

[tags]work, writing, freelance[/tags]

It’s Funny NOW, But Then … It Was Frightening: MRI Horror Story

I tend to write about my stroke often for two reasons:

1. That one incident dramatically changed my life forever.
2. After fifteen years, I have the perspective of time and experience to see the lessons – and in this case the humor – that I couldn’t see at the time and that I may not see in my present circumstances.

This post is part of the group writing project: It’s Funny NOW, But Then …

Recently, I was chatting on the phone with a friend who had a stroke about a year ago. I have encouraged her by sharing my own experiences with her. She started laughing on the phone and said she just thought about the story I told about my MRI.

Back then, the hospital I was in did not have an MRI machine but used a machine that traveled from hospital to hospital in a trailer, sort of like a bookmobile except an MRI machine replaced the books. The MRI was due at the hospital a couple of days after I was admitted, so my doctor scheduled an appointment.

Two nurses’ aides showed up in my room with a gurney. I couldn’t do anything for myself at that point, and as heavy as I am, it took several people to transfer my dead-weight body from the bed to the gurney. The aides called for help and when help finally arrived, they transferred me to the stretcher. The other two people left, and the aides prepared to transport me to the MRI.

Oh, no,” cried one. “There’s no rails or safety belts on this stretcher. We can’t take her outside through the parking lot on this.”

“We don’t have time to change,” said the other. “You know how long it took to get help to put her on this one. We’ll be in big trouble if we’re late for the appointment. They schedule those appointments so close together, it’ll throw the schedule off for the whole day.”

“We’ll be in more trouble if she falls off on the way over.”

They debated back and forth for several minutes about whether they would be in more trouble if they spent the time to get more help or if they risked taking me outside on a gurney with no safety equipment. They never mentioned anything about the effects on me – only the trouble they would be in. I wanted to remind them that they were supposed to be concerned about the safety of their patient, but I still couldn’t communicate well enough to participate in the conversation. Finally, they decided the risk to them was less if they didn’t waste any more time.

So off we went, with the aides positioned in the way they thought would be best to catch me if I started falling. Through the door, bumping into the frame, down the hall, onto the elevator, down several floors, through the lobby, and out into a parking lot –a parking filled with potholes.

As we bounced along, the aides kept up a running conversation.

“Watch out!”

“Hold her – there’s a big one coming up.”

“I sure hope she doesn’t fall off.”

Although I couldn’t communicate, I certainly agreed with that sentiment!

Finally we made it through the first parking lot, across the street, and to the far end of the second parking lot where the MRI machine awaited us. I can’t really describe what it looked like, because I was flat on my back unable to see much except what was right in front of me. The MRI technician and the aides had to lift me a short distance into the machine … and then the pounding started.

If you’ve ever had an MRI of any kind, you know what I mean. Since then, I’ve had MRIs of various parts of my body, and I can assure you that a brain MRI is by far the most unpleasant. I’ve never been claustrophobic, but that experience just about made me that way. I couldn’t see anything, and the walls seemed to be closing in on me. Pounding, reverberation, clanging, rattling, banging … I thought it would never end.

Eventually, however, it did end, and it was time for the trip back to the hospital. As they lowered me from the MRI-mobile, I expected to land on a stretcher equipped for safety. After all, I’d been inside that metal cylinder being bombarded on all sides for nearly an hour, surely enough time for the aides to exchange the unsafe flat table on wheels with a gurney with side rails or safety belts … preferably both.

But no. As they started pushing me back across the parking lot, the two women continued the conversation as if there had been no interruption. About halfway across the lot, though, something changed. It started to rain!

“Oh, the pavement’s getting slippery.”

“Careful! She almost bounced off on that pothole.”

“Look, she’s getting all wet.”

“We can fix that.” The aide pulled the sheet that covered my body a little higher and covered my head.

“At least she won’t get too wet that way.”

“Yeah, but we’ll still in trouble if she bounces off when we hit these potholes.”

I lay there, covered from head to toe with a rain-soaked sheet, listening to the aides’ worries – not about me, but about getting in trouble – and praying for this to end soon.

The chatter of the two aides had distracted me from any other sounds in the parking lot, but after we crossed the street and were back in the main parking lot, I heard other voices.

“Oh, my gosh! Look – they’re carrying a dead body through the parking lot!”

“That poor lady.”

“Shh. Show a little respect. Stand still and be quiet till they get the body inside the hospital.”

Bouncing over potholes, hearing I might fall off the gurney, the horrendous noises, the claustrophobia in the MRI machine … all paled when I realized I wasn’t dead!

Although I said a prayer of thanksgiving that I was alive, the whole experience had been traumatic. Only after a couple of years did I begin to see the humor. Now all my husband has to do is pull the covers over my head and say “That poor lady” to get us both giggling like teenagers. The incident became one of the best scenes in my novel Stroke of Luck. I’ve laughed over the story with friends more times than I count.

It’s funny now, but then … it wasn’t!

Group Writing Project: It’s Funny NOW, But Then …

Always laugh when you can. It is cheap medicine.

- Lord Byron (English Poet)

In a recent conversation, a friend reminded me of an incident that had been frightening when it happened but now seems hilarious. We all have those experiences that are frightening or embarrassing at the time, but, when seen through the perspective of time, become funny.

I decided to post about the experience my friend and I shared a laugh over. Then I thought it would be fun to hear other bloggers’ “It’s funny NOW, but then …” stories, so I came up with a group writing project.

• Write a post about something that you can laugh about today but that didn’t seem humorous at the time.
• Link to this post and notify me in a comment or e-mail so I can include your post in the roundup of all the entries.
  
• Deadline is midnight Central time on Tuesday, September 4^th.
  

You can write about something that happened at home, school, work … anywhere. As long as you can look back on the situation and find the humor that you couldn’t see before, it’s fair game. I’m looking forward to some good laughs.

Take time to laugh – it is the music of the soul.

- From an old English prayer

What’s Adopt-a-Chaplain All About?

I receive a weekly update on the activities of Adopt-a-Chaplain from my friend and client Ben Ferguson. Last week, Adopt-a-Chaplain had a booth at the Spirit West Coast Christian music festival. Ben gave permission for me to quote the following from this week’s update (emphasis added).

What’s Adopt-a-Chaplain All About?

Visitors to our booth at Spirit West Coast asked this question over and over. Four things capture the essence of what we’re “all about.”

1. One chaplain wrote “A chaplain spends all his time looking out for his soldiers but no one looks out for the chaplain.” Every chaplain in our network needs to feel cared for and that we, in military jargon, “have his back.”
2. It’s been said that what the chaplain needs to conduct his ministry – books, Bibles, musical instruments, ping pong balls, & printer cartridges – come after all the requests for “bullets & butter” have been met. We provide needed “tools of the trade” for our chaplains to enhance their ministries.
3. Goodies provide a non threatening reason for a soldier to visit his chaplain. A rugged young soldier in his battle gear carrying a big gun won’t say to his buddy, “Hey, I’ve got a problem and need to talk to the chaplain.” He will say, “I’m going to the chaplain’s office to see if he’s gotten any goodies for us.” The soldier may say “Chap I just came to get some coffee.” But frequently they’ll say, “Since I’m here I’ve been meaning to ask you about….” Chaplains say the goodies we send increases the foot traffic into their offices.
4. The chaplain is a human being just like the soldiers he counsels every day. Family issues may weigh heavy on his heart but he has to be “up all the time” even when he’s tired and hurting emotionally and may need a chaplain himself. We’re a “safe harbor” where he can be himself not “chaplain…….” and talk about his hurts, fear, discouragement, & frustration.

Supporting our troops through the chaplains who serve them.
Adopt-a-Chaplain Incorporated is a Christ-centered, California non-profit corporation whose sole mission is to provide spiritual and tangible support to deployed chaplains and their families. Adopt-a-Chaplain is completely staffed and run by volunteers, so 100% of contributions are devoted to purchasing goods and services for our chaplains.

Deployed chaplains of all religious backgrounds may receive support simply by asking. Churches and groups who wish to adopt a chaplain are matched with one of similar religious background or interest. Individual contributions of time, supplies or finances are also greatly appreciated.

For more information, visit our web site at www.adopt-a-chaplain.org .

[tags]Adopt-a-Chaplain[/tags]

Free Teleseminar on Goals and Blogging

Bryan Clark at One Man’s Goal is offering a free teleseminar with Jill Koenig “The Goal Guru.” Jill and Bryan will answer questions – Jill about goals and Bryan about blogging. You can post questions you’d like covered in a comment to Bryan’s post. The teleseminar takes places Tuesday, August 14th, at 7 pm CT.

Proofreading and the Printer’s Devil

Georganna Hancock wrote a great post on proofreading at A Writer’s Edge. She gave some excellent pointers on proofreading, but my favorite part of the post was the link to Eric Shackle’s The Printer’s Devil. Anyone who has ever edited and proofread an article dozens of times only to discover a glaring typo as soon as the piece in print or online can identify with this.

[tags]proofreading, Printer’s Devil[/tags]

What I Learned from My First Vacation in a Wheelchair

Robert Hruzek at Middle Zone Musings has another “What I Learned From …” Group Writing Project underway. The topic this time is vacation:

Hey, even if you’ve never taken a “formal” vacation, then surely you’ve taken a little “self” time, eh? Well, that qualifies as a vacation in my book. So go for it!

I’m going to take a little artistic license with the word vacation and talk about my first venture away from home after my stroke to attend a writing conference.

At the time, I was using a motorized scooter, so I made elaborate advance preparations. I arranged to ride my scooter to the door of the aircraft, then have the scooter gate-checked. I could walk down the aisle with the support of the seat backs, so I didn’t need any special help inside the plane. I had to present certification that the batteries in the scooter were the kind that could be carried as cargo before the scooter could be checked. I even made reservations for a handicapped van for the trip from La Guardia to the hotel.

Our flight was delayed out of San Antonio, so I barely made the connection in Atlanta. Since my scooter was checked all the way to New York, I had to have a skycap push me in a wheelchair down the concourse. My friend Grace Anne Schaefer was on the same flight from Atlanta to New York, and she was getting worried when I wasn’t onboard minutes before take-off. But I made it just in time … I thought. The doors closed behind me, the last person on the plane, and we prepared to lift off.

Then the pilot announced that there was a problem with the plane. We were told to keep our seats, as the maintenance crew was working on the problem and should have it corrected momentarily. More than an hour later, the pilot announced, “We regret our maintenance crew was unable to repair the problem. This flight is cancelled. See the ticket agent about changing your ticket for a later flight.”

Since I had to wait for a wheelchair, Grace Anne took both our tickets and went to stand in line to exchange them. When I finally de-planed, an agent told me they had already made arrangements for the next flight for me. When I explained that I was traveling with a friend, the agent bumped someone from the flight to let Grace Anne travel with me. There are some advantages to being handicapped! All the other passengers were standing in line for much later flights.

The other flight was in a different concourse, and the agent asked if I could walk a few steps to and from a car just outside the building. When I said I could, he arranged for a car to take us across the tarmac. The driver dropped us at the door, and we went inside a small lobby with an elevator and a flight of stairs to the main level. But there was a sign on the elevator “Out of Order.” I could not walk up a flight of stairs! There was no place to sit, and my balance was so precarious I knew I couldn’t stand long. Grace Anne took my purse and my ticket and went upstairs to find help. I leaned against the wall and waited.

Soon, the elevator doors opened. The man inside said, “I’m still working on the elevator, but it’s safe enough for me to take you upstairs.”

 When we reached the main floor, I looked around for Grace Anne and couldn’t see her anywhere. A skycap approached with a wheelchair and said she would take me to the gate. When I hesitated and told her I was looking for my friend, she said lots of flights were being delayed because of bad weather, causing a shortage of wheelchairs. If I didn’t get in the chair right then, I might not get another chance. I dropped into the chair and told her the gate number. She whisked me through the concourse, mentioning several times that people didn’t always know they were supposed to tip a skycap for pushing them in a wheelchair. She even told me how much I should tip her. Well, she didn’t get any tip out of me because I didn’t have my purse.

When we reached the gate, she hurried me out of the chair and disappeared. I was sitting in a waiting area with my back to the desk. I twisted around to look for Grace Anne … and discovered I was at the wrong gate! This was a flight to Chicago, not New York.

I was still weak, and the trauma I had been through had totally exhausted me. I sat there wondering what in the world I was going to do. The gate across the corridor was empty, but after a while, an agent walked up and started looking through some papers. I dragged myself up out of the chair and staggered over to the desk.

“Please help me. I’m at the wrong gate, and I don’t know where I’m supposed to be. I don’t even know the flight number. I’ve lost my friend, and she has my ticket and my purse.” I leaned against the desk for support and tried not to sound as desperate as I felt.

The agent patiently looked up the information on his computer, flagged down a cart, and told the driver where I needed to go. On the way through the concourse, I found Grace Anne, who was looking for me. We finally got to the right gate, only to learn that the flight was delayed because of weather.

We spent several hours in the airport. A couple of times I had to go to the restroom, so Grace Anne went looking for a wheelchair each time. We didn’t dare leave to find something to eat, as the agent kept telling us they would be boarding the plane any minute.

The flight was finally called, and we made it to New York without mishap. But, of course, when we arrived, we had missed my handicapped van by many hours. We had to call and wait until one was available. The trip through New York City traffic during rush hour was something I’d just as soon not experience again. I swear on many occasions we were only a couple of inches from other vehicles.

We arrived at the hotel after 6:00 PM, and we had tickets for a Broadway play at 7:00 PM. The tickets were supposed to be at a booth in the conference registration area. So Grace Anne went to find the tickets while I went to the room with the bellman and our bags. Shortly after all our luggage was in the room, Grace Anne called and said the registration area was closed, and there was a sign that tickets were at Will Call in the theater. Fortunately, the theater was next door to the hotel – we had carefully planned to avoid having to deal with  handicapped transportation again. Grace Anne went for the tickets, and I scooted on over to meet her in the lobby. I parked my scooter as arranged and walked the few steps down the aisle to our seats just as the curtain rose.

Although I enjoyed Les Miserables, I could barely make it the few steps to the scooter at the end of the performance. We went back to our room and agreed that no matter how much it cost, we would order room service. We hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and it close to 10:00 PM by this time. Grace Anne placed the order while I got in the shower to try to ease some of my aches and pains from the difficult day.

Dinner was delicious, and after a hot shower and a good meal, I decided I would live. Surely I wouldn’t face any major challenges at the conference.

The next morning, I discovered that the Marriott Marquis had meeting rooms on the second through the fourth floors – with only an escalator connecting the floors. I had selected the workshops I wanted to attend but had to completely revise my plans because I was limited to those on the second floor.

At the end of the day, one of the elevators was out of order, and the others were so constantly full that the bulky scooter wouldn’t fit. Time after time after time after time, elevators stopped, then left again because they were already full. Finally, I managed to fit in with the help of some nice folks.

One day there were four conference attendees in wheelchairs trying to get into the elevators. The others were in regular wheelchairs and got in sooner than I did since my scooter took up more room.

The last day of the conference, though, was even worse. I sat waiting for an elevator for nearly an hour. There was no one else on the floor. I felt so weak I was sure I was going to fall off the scooter. Finally I rode around looking for help. A young man was setting up a bar in one of the rooms. I asked him to call help for me. I went back to the elevator and waited … and waited … and waited … and waited. I went back and asked the young man again to get me help. He called Security, and after what seemed like a lifetime, someone came and escorted me through the kitchen, to the service elevator, and upstairs to my room.

Grace Anne had been wondering where I was, and she was so upset when I told her what had happened that she called Security and demanded an escort to the banquet that night. I was so exhausted that all I wanted to do was go to bed. But Grace Anne insisted I go to the banquet and awards ceremony. After a short rest and a shower, I felt a little better. Security escorted me to the main elevator, made room for me, and led me to the banquet room. At the end of the evening, my escort was back to see me safely to the room.

The trip and conference were physically and emotionally draining, but I still learned more than I ever imagined. I took reams of notes that I referred to over and over again long after the conference ended.

I learned five important lessons from this vacation aka writing conference:

1. No matter how well you plan, you can’t cover every eventuality. Weather, mechanical failures, poor design, other people’s actions, and many other things can disrupt the best-laid plans.
2. Never let yourself get separated from your purse and your ticket.
3. In spite of challenges, frustration, and exhaustion, you can still be productive, as I learned so much about writing.
4. Friends like Grace Anne are blessings to be treasured.
5. When you think you have reached the absolute limit and can’t take another step, you can keep moving if you don’t give up.

EPIC New Voices 2008 Writing Competition

Do you know a middle school or high school student who likes to write?

EPIC, Electronically Published Internet Connection, established the annual New Voices writing competition to encourage reading and writing among middle school and high school students and to promote e-book literacy.

The contest is open to students in junior high or high school in public, private, or home schools anywhere in the world as long as entries are submitted in English. There is no fee to enter.

Categories include Middle School (grades 7-8) and High School (grades 9-12), with sub-categories in Short Story (fiction), Poetry, and Essay (nonfiction). Each student may submit one entry per sub-category for his or her grade level.

All the entries are judged by a panel of judges, including teachers, librarians, published writers, publishers, and editors. All entrants will receive feedback from the first-round judging panel, with the finalists moving to a second-round judging panel.

I chaired the New Voices Contest committee for the first two years and am excited about how the contest has grown. Some teachers assign their classes writing projects and then submit the best of the students’ work to the contest. The teachers have told us that the critiques by industry professionals, which encourage the young writers and help them improve their craft, are more important to the students than the prizes.

Winners in each category (1st, 2nd, and 3rd place, Honorable Mentions, and Judges’ Awards) receive prizes including cash, e-book readers, and gift certificates for e-books in addition to publication in an anthology New Voices 2008.

The anthology is distributed free as a download on the EPIC Web site and on CDs at the EPIC conference. Winners receive CDs of the anthology, and their school libraries receive both CDs and print copies.

New Voices 2007 is still available for free download. I think you’ll enjoy reading the stories, poems, and essays by these talented young writers.

You will find guidelines and entry forms for New Voices 2008 on the EPIC Web site. Please pass the information about the contest on to individuals, schools, writing groups … young writers and anywhere they can be found. You just might help start a teen writer on the road to writing success.

[tags]EPIC, New Voices Writing Competition, student writing contest[/tags]

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