The worst 4-lettered word: Procrastination

Have you noticed the onslaught of blogs giving authors the key to successful writing? If you haven't, the good news is that you are on your way to success. If not, it is time to chain yourself to your word processor of choice and write.

Who would have guessed that the real "gamechanger" for writers favor those who write.

In the name of promoting ourselves, our books, and sharing our eccentricities and likes, we set traps that ensnare our best interests. How many minutes are spent creating posts on Facebook, twitter, Google +, et al, and searching for "the secret to writing" blogs? If you are unsure, then it is too many. 

If I were nominated for a world's best list it could well be World's Best Procrastinator. I am familiar with sneaky paths procrastination takes, and I have learned to spot it; yet, it still catches me, and once the hook is in I'm a goner. 

For those with ADHD that have asked what I do to counteract the war on procrastination, I offer my simple two-point suggestion: 

(1) Make a plan, (2) Follow the plan. 

Set concrete daily writing schedules and stick to them. Give yourself permission to work beyond the scheduled writing time. Set a concrete daily time limit for making social posts and do not exceed it. Be on the lookout for activities procrastination disguises to make you think you are doing something constructive that keep you off track.

Need another suggestion? Read Judy Christie's key to successful writing in her guest blog.

Join the readers of Among the Jimson Weeds and add your review!

"Wish I could write dialogue like that."

I received a message from a new fan. I'll call her Mary since that was the name she signed on the note. Mary credited me for making my characters "very human, believable" with the "enviable talent of creating dialogue." After replaying the compliment for the feel-good after glow I gave thought to characterization and dialogue, both common threads in reviews written for Among the Jimson Weeds.

I've reached the conclusion that characters and dialogue can't be separated:

• You must know your character before dialogue can be written (translate effective).
• Characters are identified by their dialogue. 

I'm going to tell you how I do it and why. We're as different as our fictional characters and their dialogue, so it may not work for you. Then again, maybe it will.

I don't write a word until I know my characters inside and out. Although important, I don't limit the characteristics to favorite foods, hobby, religion, age, height and eye color. I crawl right up inside their head and don't relent until I discover how they think, their quirks, what pisses them off, their deepest darkest secrets and habits good and bad--eating habits, sexual habits, sleeping habits.

Once I know what makes my characters tick, I put them in the story plot and away we go.

My brain may be wired differently due to ADD/HD, and the characters of my novels get in my head and talk to me whether I want them to or not. It's good. It's good because they let me know when I have them doing something they wouldn't do. It's good because they tell me what to say and how they would say it.

They come to life, and that makes them believable.

This is how I do characterization and dialogue. Perhaps the minds of creative people--writers, artists are weird in their own way. Think of Toulouse-Lautrec and his Parisian shady haunts or VanGough and his missing ear. 

ADHD in the classroom: teachers beware

I ran into a teacher while shopping yesterday. I actually ran in to her. The price tag pinned to the chaise lounge on the clearance shelf was too good to pass. Even though it extended two feet from the bottom rack of the shopping cart where I placed it, I navigated up the aisle with such ease nonsensical thoughts and images pushed my newly placed cargo to a less traveled section of my mind. I turned the corner and that's how I met the teacher. That's how we got into the ADHD discussion.

Regular education classes are filled with students exhibiting behaviors associated with ADHD, with or without the diagnosis. This is great for a number of reasons, foremost because they should be mainstreamed.They are bright, creative, and lovable. Teachers may have a difficult time recognizing this, and many will disagree. Why?

An ADHD child can turn the classroom into hell in a minute's time with neither intention, nor effort.

Unfortunately, regular-ed teachers do not receive training to effectively teach children with learning disabilities. Even curriculum for special education teachers tends to group all learning disorders together without strategies and techniques for specific disorders. Classroom control is acknowledged as being necessary, but little if any strategies are studied in depth. Teachers with good intentions go into the classroom not knowing how to work with  impulsive behavior, lack of focus, addictive/obsessive behavior,  and a host of symptoms from low-self esteem to uncontrollable anger and inappropriate social behavior.

Everyone loses--child, teacher, parents, peers.

ADHD children not only need organization and structure, it's crucial. However, they don't need blame, or scorn. They already think they're weird and different, they know they have trouble listening and remembering. A mother recently said that during a parent-teacher conference she was told, "you need to tell your son to focus."

Department heads of teacher education programs, school administrators, directors, teachers, parents, and students can work together to meet the needs of the child. It's our duty, plain and simple. Begin by introducing your child to the teachers and discuss accommodations.

ADHD children are amazing. Over the years, many of them learn strategies and techniques by trial and error what they aren't taught in classrooms. Unfortunately, some don't. Many of them are drop-outs from school and life.


How can we remedy this problem? Who is responsible? Is it a problem? I'd love to hear your opinion.

Cool Conor Kelman -- Thinking Aloud

Introducing guest blogger, Kenni Stromme: Kenni Stromme has a love of writing and words of all kinds. Her background is in Journalism and Business. Currently she is editing several books.

“Among the Jimson Weeds,” is Book 1 in a trilogy written by Paul Keene.  I am hoping that three books will be enough. I love this story. I love the protagonist Conor Kelman and his band of quirky characters.  I want to keep them close to me, a part of my life.  I want to read more and more.

 Even when people are befriending him or offering kindness, he assumes trouble’s a’brewin’ so there's always something tragic for Conor to handle. But he’s cool, or at least he tries to be.

The excerpt below is an example of how Conor thinks and responds internally to the external world.  He is just coming of age as he and his girlfriend have embarked on a well-planned adventure-swim across the Snake River in Idaho. (The “she” he refers to is his girlfriend.) 

         She reminded me of my cousin Billy James. He was a good swimmer, too. When his family came out to see us one summer he tried to teach me how to swim, but I wouldn’t keep my face in the water so he gave up. It’s because my older sister tried to drown me when I was a little kid. One night, after the girls finished bathing, Ruthie May put me in the big galvanized tub. She forgot all about me when her boyfriend dropped by. I slipped under the water and damn near drowned. I don’t remember it, but when my two oldest sisters and their kids visit they tell stories and laugh. They always tell about drowning me and the time they dropped me headfirst on the cement at the well. It pisses me off when they laugh about the stories like they’re a big joke, like I'm a Big joke. No wonder I’m so screwed up. (from chapter 8)

Even though I am an older woman, I relate to Conor on many levels.  I think almost anyone would because he has so many interesting experiences.  If you want a great read that will rouse some awesome memories and feelings, find a copy of “Among the Jimson Weeds.”  Then wait with me for the next book. Come on Paul… get to creating…Kenni Stromme

Radar's last ride

Wrapped in a blanket I carried her to the van and placed her gently in the back. On the way my head filled with images from six years earlier.

I had taken coffee and newspaper to the patio and thumbed through the paper while trying to keep Beau, the feisty Maltese from lapping coffee from my mug.The ad pulled at my heart. Five year old female German shepherd Free to right home. Call for interview.Two days later Radar the shepherd that was brought back from her master's stint in Germany interviewed us. She joined our family the following week, and we were thrilled to have been chosen. Her master was unexpectedly assigned to an indefinite time of service in Afghanistan.

My wife keeping her eyes on Radar, gasped, covering her mouth in surprise.Tears filled her eyes as she said, "Can you see from the rear view mirror . . . " I adjusted the mirror and my eyes met Radar. She was sitting, head pointed toward the window, muzzle in the air, smiling. How that girl loved to ride, to go, to see. Was it a miracle?

Radar was five when she spent her first night with us. She came into our room several times during the night seeming to be restless. Our daughter reported the same story. We attributed it to loneliness, unease, and figured she would settle down in time. We were mistaken on all counts. Radar kept the same watch over us for six years. She followed a rigorous schedule surveying, inspecting and checking every room and all occupants throughout the night. During the daylight hours, she cat-napped close to the front door.

Six weeks earlier her eyesight had gone and her veterinarian attributed all of her symptoms to old age. No matter how closely we watched after Radar, she bumped into furniture, ran into walls, and missed doorways. The only way we kept her from executing her watch schedule at night was keeping her in our room locked inside her kennel.

The morning she had the seizure my wife and I were able to be by her side. We notified the clinic that we were bringing her in.

The news I dreaded was given. Radar's brain had detached from the stem. There was no option to choose.

I held her in my arms as she lay on the table. We communicated without saying a word. Her sienna eyes never left mine as the doctor emptied the syringe and left us alone. She thanked me for taking her in. I thanked her for loving and caring for me and my family. I told her I wished I'd taken her with me more often.

Oh, I knew Radar loved to go with me, but I never knew how much it meant until her last ride.

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Running Nowhere

Sometimes, no matter how fast or how hard you run, there are things you cannot escape.  Conor Kelman has a bad case of ADHD, but nobody knew much about learning disabilities. If you ask his friends, peers, or teachers they will probably say Conor is just a weird, strange kid. Heck, Conor will admit that . . . and more.
Book One Among the Jimson Weeds of the Running Nowhere Trilogy is published. The book will be released soon and available at amazon.com, barnesandnoble.com and book stores. For those who want to meet Conor now, the Softcover and Hardcover formats are available at Xlibris.

Among the Jimson Weeds—Conor Kelman began searching for love and acceptance, that feeling of fitting in, at a very young age. He blamed his parents for uprooting him, dragging him from all the places he called home, from his friends, time and again. He didn’t go willingly, but he was just a kid, so he did his kicking and screaming in his heart. Of course, what goes up must come down, so that inner turmoil had to express itself. But that wasn’t all. Conor had an external set of problems, too. He saw movies in his head that interrupted the flow of his thoughts and interfered with his responses. The images were often frightening and foreboding, and no one understood, even those closest to him, so they bubbled under the surface constantly disrupting Conor privately, creating a separation—him verses others. Conor grasps to connect to something that matters—his girlfriend—his guitar—a little white house in an apple orchard. He fights constantly. He fights his natural instincts to be accepted. He pretends people aren't important and that opinions of others don’t matter while seeking that illusive acceptance. He doesn't have a dull moment, even in the most mundane situations. His personal expression is raw, surprising and fun. Conor understands life in pure and simple terms... such as his belief that he is always messing up, as well as his belief in his ability to pitch a baseball well. Despite his insistence that he is stupid, Conor is a bright young man who is ready to take on the world with the help of his friends. Anyone who has ever felt different or who has had to endure problems of their own creation will relate to Conor. Conor's story is a heart-opening adventure. It has the ability to awaken the soul to possibilities. Journey with Conor and remember how joy can grow from the pain, like Conor, growing among the noxious jimson weeds. Let Conor’s true-to-life experiences entertain and enlighten. The vast array of characters that surround Conor make for a read that provides a non-stop merry-go-round of expression, hope, laughter and tears. Among the Jimson Weeds is Book One in the Running Nowhere Trilogy. Once Conor gets in your head, you'll want more. Watch for book two, Between the Pieces, and book three, Within Time coming soon.