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Archive for October 2009

Five Seconds

Oct
29

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I want to thank everyone who has tried so hard to help me get this job. I know that there are many of you who have worked really hard to help me. I can’t even write about it without breaking into tears because it means so much to me that you have worked so hard for me. (Because I don’t know why you do. But I appreciate it!) I don’t like asking you to do it. Every day when I ask you to vote for me, I don’t like it.

Here’s why I keep doing it.

This is not a “contest” like some kind of ego thing. This “contest” ends in a job. This job requires the person who holds it to write five days a week for the SAM-e website. They’re asking for five posts per week (relatively short–to me, who is used to writing books), not selling their product, but in support of their product. Meaning, five posts per week motivating people to live their lives with a positive outlook. I know I can do that. I’ve been trying to do that here on my own website every day for the last two years, and if the amazingly sweet feedback I get from so many of you is true, I’ve had at least some success with that. This job will also not interfere with or obstruct in any way my continuation of this website and will have no bearing on it.

In the course of the last two years, I’ve had some major ups and downs, some of which I’ve shared on this website, and some of which I will never share because they are too private. As any of you who have been around here for a long time know, I nearly had to give up this website this time last year because of money. I do not have any money. I operate on a shoestring. I’m a single mother living on a farm in a remote area of West Virginia. I can’t operate this website at the level that I do without spending a great deal of time on it. I write this website as a passion. I believe it’s what I’m supposed to be doing because I know that I am helping people and using what skill I have in life at the same time. I think it’s important because your emails to me tell me it’s important to you. I am able, now, in the past few months, to make enough money from advertising revenue on this website that my fear of having to give it up has at least for now somewhat subsided. However, I am a long way from being solvent or secure. I worry about money every day, and that’s why I work so hard.

Writing a blog for a living, to many people, is still a strange (even mockable) pursuit. It’s very new, and as with all new things, it’s both cutting edge and cast upon with disdain at the same time. To me, there is nothing strange about it. I am a writer. I will write wherever people will read, and today, people are reading on the internet. There are a million blogs to choose from. I have to write like my life depends on it every day because I want you to choose to read here–and you have a choice, every day. The internet is an incredible opportunity for writers–and also for readers, because by your visits, you control what sites continue to operate. It’s an amazing time to be a writer, and a woman, with a drive to succeed. From a remote farm in the foothills of the Appalachian mountains, with an iffy internet connection on the best of days, if I can entertain you enough to convince you to come back, I can make a living in this new age for writers. That is my challenge, every day.

This job pays a (shocking) $5,000/month. For six months only. It’s a short-term job, but it’s a lifetime of security because, believe me, I won’t use that money to go to Paris. I’ll use that money to make my family secure, and to guarantee that I can continue writing this website.

I’m not asking for a handout. I’m asking for a job that I know I can do and do well. How this round of voting works is that the top 20 in the vote will go to a second round in which the company will choose who will get the job. You know the company is watching, and the top slots will have their attention. I would like to go into the second round in a strong position, as #1 if possible because I believe that is my best bet to get the job. I will do everything including backflips to get there, despite my loathing for asking for votes. This job means that much to my family. When Morgan tells me she needs a coat, I want to be able to buy it for her. (Like I said, this is not about Paris.) I quit writing romance novels because I was not making any decent money at it, even though it was the only thing I knew how to do. My kids are on free lunch at school if that tells you anything about my tax return. To every struggling single mother out there–I am one of you. I want this job. I want to use my talents to help my family and to help other people. I know I can do it.

Even if you haven’t voted before because you just don’t do stuff like that and it sounds like a hassle, please vote for me today. It takes, literally, five seconds. It’s a simple process. Click on the link in this post, then click on “vote for me” when the page comes up and you’re done. If every single person who visits this website in a day voted, I would be more than okay in the standings.

I hate to ask, but I am. Because I know what this would mean for my family.

Please help me. Take five seconds today.

Vote for me.

If you are on Facebook or Twitter, please post it if you have the time or inclination. Every vote counts.

You can see where I am in the standings here: Top 20.

THANK YOU.

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Me and Mean Rooster

Oct
29

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We’re becoming friends.

I say that as if I know it, and I don’t. He might take me down with his steely beak tomorrow. But last night? He let me walk by him and he didn’t attack me. And I was brave enough to walk by him without my rooster rake.

We are making progress, Mean Rooster and I.

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The Slanted Little House

"It was a cold wintry day when I brought my children to live in rural West Virginia. The farmhouse was one hundred years old, there was already snow on the ground, and the heat was sparse-—as was the insulation. The floors weren’t even, either. My then-twelve-year-old son walked in the door and said, “You’ve brought us to this slanted little house to die." Keep reading our story....



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