Faith in Humanity on My Mind

What's on my mind? This'll shock you. Not at all.

Cats. And the near mortal blow taken by my once shining faith in humanity.  Let me introduce you to Fluffy. (Don't @ me. I did not name him. I inherited this stunning lack of imagination.) Fluffy is 15 and he lives outside, among the rocks and mangroves beside Tampa Bay where he was dumped by someone years ago.

Yes. I'm back to feline rescue. I met up with a group who manages this colony of cats. All of them dumped. Because several of the dumped cats weren't fixed before being abandoned, there's now a generation of truly feral (and spectacularly gorgeous) cats on site. Someone dumped a seal point Himalayan queen. She produced a glorious long-hair tortie and a stunning short-hair calico with blue eyes. All three are fixed now. And once a day, one of the colony managers goes out to put out food and fresh water for the crew. We have about twenty cats and a group of 6 people who work with the colony.

This is where faith in humanity is restored. Because this is where these cats live: In elevated shelters built by one of the men who originally began feeding these cats. That's Rocky on the shelf. There are two of these shelters. These shelters and all of the cats weathered Irma without a hitch.

We run a constant TNR (trap, neuter, release) program at this colony, because just as we reach 100% fix rates, some git comes along and dumps a litter of kittens. This happened late last year. My co-managers had trapped three of the four kittens. Three of those kittens were taken into rescue and homed. They all have human slaves of their very own. But we had one wily panther (solid black coat) who for WEEKS avoided our efforts to trap him. I was lucky enough to get him with a drop trap last Sunday. He was neutered, vaccinated, and returned to the colony on Wednesday evening.

 But that same Wednesday evening, not a mile up the road from where these fluffs live in the rough, I was accosted by a charming 6-7 month old, solid grey kitten. Obviously male. He is ultra-friendly and charming. I was at a beach bar and the staff told me they had a bunch of cats. I identified myself as one of the managers of the colony down the road (everybody knows it because of the excellent houses) and asked for permission to get on property and trap the cats. The general manager said, 'yes please.' I'm heart-broken that someone would dump such a love-hungry kitten when there's a perfectly good Humane Society with a robust foster program in the area. Surrendering an animal isn't a death sentence here, damn it. Abandoning them IS. So if anyone near FL wants a young, handsome gun metal blue kitten, hit me up. I have no idea how many cats are at that colony. I have no idea whether any of them are fixed or sick or  . . .  But I will find out.

The thing that preserves my faith in humanity is the number of people who stop when they see us taking care of the cats and telling us how much they love the cats and appreciate that we're looking after them no matter the weather. People bring us cat food. Some offer to help defray vet bill costs. It's really heartening.

The little grey guy is every bit as friendly as my sweet peach and white friend, above right. This is the one I would take home in a heartbeat were I not contractually obligated to only have two cats (on pain of losing my place to live.) He's looking for a sofa of his own, too. But here. The star of our friendly cat show is Rocky. This guy walks up to everyone who stops, shakes hands and says, "Welcome! Skritch my chin!"

If you obey his commands and rub his chin, he'll drool all over you in reward. Yes. We're actively looking for a home for him, too. He needs a human to boss around, don't you think?

Returning the Favor: Helping Fellow Writers

It's cherry blossom time in Poulsbo, the Little Norway of Washington state. The left hand shot is of the first blossom that's popped on the weeping cherry tree that Hatshepsut is inspecting (right hand photo). When the blooms finally all open, the tree will be a mass of pink. I'll try for another photo at that point. It's pretty spectacular in bloom. May even have to break out a real camera for that.

You'd think that my cherry blossom obsession had nothing to do with the topic of mentoring or giving back to the writerly orgs to which most of us inevitably belong. You'd think incorrectly because I can make anything about anything. It's a gift. Brace yourself for a crappy analogy:

When it comes to mentoring, I feel like I'm bringing a cell phone camera to an opportunity that calls for a massive DSLR

Yeah. That was it. My analogy. Aren't you glad you stuck around for that? What I'm saying is that while I try to do my darnedest to contribute, I want to be ultra careful about holding myself up as any kind of authority on anything writing. My knowledge and skill set are still equal to a middle of the road cell phone camera. There are loads of writers out there in the world with the amassed ability that's equal to a super hi-res Digital SLR camera. Sure, sure. I've held offices for various organizations. I've judged contests and critiqued entries as kindly and as constructively as possible. I will volunteer during conferences for any and all tasks that will help things go more smoothly. Need bags stuffed? Count me in. Files sorted and organized? Sure. Boxes carted? I'm there.

But frankly, at this point, I am more in need of mentoring than I am in need of mentoring others. I still have so much to learn and so many opportunities to breathe some new life into a career that's been in a bit of a holding pattern. Maybe when I manage that, I'll have a great story to tell other writers about how to do it - or at least the story of how it worked for me.

Sure, I've taught workshops. I've taken far more. Mainly, I think, because while I get a lot out of workshops, I find offering workshops to be too impersonal. My great joy is sitting down in a group of writers and listening to everyone's work. This happened recently. A writer with a great manuscript came to critique. We read her opening chapter. Everyone gave feedback, then I said, "You know, based on this chapter we've read, here's the story you're setting up." She stared at me. "That's not the story at all." "Yeah," I said. "I think you started the book in the wrong place. From what you're describing about the plot, your story starts here." I was trembling in my boots, because WHO WANTS TO HEAR THAT???

Her eyes were wide. She sucked in a breath and then shouted, "Oh my GOD! I knew something was wrong and I had no idea what it was! Thank you!" 

So that's my sweet spot. Getting to offer up an opinion about how a story is off track and offering options for putting it back up on rails. It isn't massive value to massive numbers of writers - but if it helps one single writer get her work to market, I'll be happy. Actually. Scratch that. I already am happy. It's alarmingly satisfying to identify story issues (in someone else's work where I'm not blinded by trees and forest) and to come up with potential resolutions. It's giving someone a leg up in their work. It's also excellent practice for me - solving other people's story issues makes it more likely I'll be able to ID my own. Maybe.

What I really want to know is if you could get any workshop from any writer(s) what would it be about?