Archives for 2012

A Gutsy way to grab more readers

March 8, 2012 by Sonia Marsh

Dave the podcast guy — Dave the Podcast Guy

Do you want to kick things up a notch? Want to be more “Gutsy” in what you do online?

Start Podcasting

Tomorrow I get a chance to interview the expert on Podcasting, Dave Thackeray, The Podcast Guy, who is charming, energetic and fun. You’ll love his accent; it’s more British than mine.

If you don’t know what Podcasting is, Dave will explain, but in the meantime, think of it as:

“A way to turbo-charge your static content.” Dave Thackeray, The Podcast Guy

My focus will be on asking Dave how you as a blogger, writer, or a published author can use podcasting as an extra tool (more engaging than simply writing) to connect with your audience.

After all, we’re all nosy aren’t we? We like to hear people’s “live” voice, especially writers we enjoy.

So you think you have nothing to say?

Don’t worry, Dave is an expert at finding “the expert in you.”

Do you have any specific questions you’d like me to ask Dave on your behalf?

Please leave them for me, and I shall ask him tomorrow, via Skype, when I speak to him in his office in Liverpool, U.K.

In the meantime, you can check out a brief overview on Dave’s blog called, “New to Podcasting?”

I shall let you know when the podcast will be ready for you to click on.

Thanks, and be Gutsy.

I want to thank Annabel Candy for her great post on podcasting and for putting me in touch with Dave Thackeray.

“My Gutsy Story” by Pat Yeager

March 5, 2012 by Sonia Marsh

I am sixty-eight-years young and have lived a challenging life. The 15th of 16 children raised on a farm until 15-years-old when farm life became too harsh for a 90-pound girl.

“Education wasn’t important for a girl,” my mother would say. “After all you’ll get married someday and your husband will take care of you.” I began to feel like a number with no identity and ran away from home in 1959, for other reasons as well which I will not mention at this time.

I was then given a chance to attend beauty school and live in a boarding house with strangers. With few choices I did so and attended school eight hours a day. Soon my mother ran out of money, so I had to pay my way or return to farm work. Not an option. I found a job as a waitress, 5pm-12am for tips and took a bus to work for another 7-8 hours. Before long, I met my first husband to be, and naturally my mother’s prophetic words became a reality. Love can do very strange things to a young girl and I was tired, so tired. I agreed to marry him and he convinced me to drop out of school.

My first pregnancy occurred soon after, and within six years I had four babies to raise with what turned out to be, an alcoholic husband who worked minimal jobs and became abusive.
I stayed with him for nine years until 1969 when he became abusive to our children, ages three, four, six and eight, when I left him, taking my children at age twenty-five. Still I had no job. Fortunately a friend took us in until I was able to find work.

One week later I applied for a job as a sales rep just one block away, all the while thinking there is no way I’ll land this job. I had no experience, had never driven a car, no formal education, (however I had always studied on my own), no permanent address, no money for new clothes, no babysitter for my children. Still I went for it.

I interviewed the next day, on a Sunday, wearing a simple skirt, blouse, and flat shoes. Somehow the gentleman interviewing me seemed interested, and began to ask me questions.
1. What is your experience in sales? “Actually none, but I believe I can sell your product.
2. When can you begin? “Right away, I have children to support.
3. What amount of income do you expect? “Whatever you offer Sir, I need a job.”
4. How many children do you have? “Four small children; two in school.
5. Who will watch them while you work if I hire you? “I have a babysitter lined up.” At once I flinched, fearing a bolt of lightning would strike me.
6. Do you have a car? “No Sir, I usually take buses.” Then he asked a question I never imagined.
7. Do you have a driver’s license? OMG! How do I answer this question?

I knew it had to be important, so at once I replied. “Yes I do, but it expired.” Then waiting for that lightning bolt which I knew was going to strike this time, the gentleman says, “If you renew your driver’s license I’d like to hire you right away if you’re interested in what I have to offer. The pay is $_, and although it isn’t a large salary, you will be given a company car to drive and expenses, and very little travel is involved. Your territory will be local. Most work days will be normal hours with little overtime.”

“OMG. What do I do? What do I do?” Well, I took the job, and signed up for driving lessons that afternoon, got my driver’s license later that week, found a babysitter to live with us for payment, signed for a nice apartment, bought some professional work clothes at a thrift store for next to nothing, and started a new life.

Soon I met my second husband to be. It goes without saying I took it much slower. There were children involved and that is where is my greatest love abides. Still I think he fell in love with them first, then me. We were married five years later in 1974 and the rest is history. You see I’m a Christian. I’ve always had faith in God and I always believed he had something special for me.

***

Pat Yeager

My name is Pat Shannon/Yeager, to my family I’m Patty. I’m a wife, mother, grandmother, a great grandmother, and a lover of animals. My life is full and busy with a passion for writing poetry, fiction, and short stories, crafting, gardening, church, and volunteer work. Follow Pat on Facebook, or connect with Pat on LinkedIn

***

Your story is so inspiring to all of us. I cannot imagine the courage it took for you to uproot four small children and find a job, a babysitter, and sign up for driving lessons that very afternoon. That was such a “Gutsy” thing to do and I am so happy to hear that everything worked out for you. Your courage is amazing Pat, and thanks for sharing. Please leave your comments for Pat below. She’ll pop over to reply.

***

Do you have a “My Gutsy Story”?

To submit your own, “My Gutsy Story” you can find all the information, and our sponsors on the “My Gutsy Story” contest page. (VIDEO) Submission guidelines here.

***

Please vote for your favorite February “My Gutsy Story” You can read all four here. The winner will be announced on Thursday, March 15th.

Please share the “My Gutsy Story” series with others on Twitter using the #MyGutsyStory. Thank you.

Vote for your favorite February “My Gutsy Story”

March 1, 2012 by Sonia Marsh

Vote for your favorite February “My Gutsy Story”

From March 1st until March 14th midnight, PST, you can vote for your favorite February 2012, “My Gutsy Story.”

To VOTE, please go to the poll on the right side of this post. You will find it on the sidebar listing the names of all 4 “My Gutsy Story,” authors.

Here are the 4 stories. Only ONE vote per person.

1). Larry Jacobson

2). Anne Schroeder

3). Brooke Bridenstine

4). Barbara Hammond

The winner will be announced on March 15th. Winner gets to pick their prize from our 9 sponsors.

Good Luck to all of you. Your stories are amazing and inspiring. Please share these stories with friends and fellow writers and bloggers by clicking on the SHARE links below.

***

Do you have a “My Gutsy Story” you’d like to share?

To submit your own, “My Gutsy Story” you can find all the information, and our sponsors on the “My Gutsy Story” contest page. (VIDEO) Submission guidelines here.

Please share the “My Gutsy Story” series with others on Twitter using the #MyGutsyStory. Thank you.

“My Gutsy Story” by Barbara Hammond

February 27, 2012 by Sonia Marsh

Flying Blind on a Leap of Faith

My parents divorced when I was two. My father wasn’t part of my life after that. My half- brother was born when I was ten and my mother and step-father separated a year later. Mom worked nights and I was the primary care giver for the baby.

One night, as I was making dinner, I heard a knock at the door. We didn’t get visitors very often so this was curious. I made sure the chain was on the door as I opened it. There was a man with a grocery bag in his arms. He said, “Hey! Aren’t you going to let your dear old dad in?”

He looked vaguely familiar but from where? He said, “Your mom told me it would be dinner time, am I too late?”

I searched his face and remembered seeing him briefly on my fifth birthday, he was, in fact, my dad. Immediately I thought, “What the hell is he doing here?!”

I let him in. He took his bag of goodies to the kitchen where my brother was sitting in his high chair eating cheerios. As the stranger unpacked the groceries it was obvious he had no idea what kids like to eat, but then how would he?

Mom came home early that night, which was very unusual. She was as giddy as a school girl and falling all over her ex-husband (twice removed). I was actually embarrassed for her.

He stuck around for almost two weeks. Most nights he hung out at the bar where my mother worked. Sometimes he brought dinner home for us, and once he actually took us out to dinner.

Then he was gone. Just when I got used to seeing him when I came home from school he was gone. I wasn’t all that emotionally invested but it seemed odd.

Mom came home and informed me… “His other daughter is sick… he loves her more than he loves you so he went home to her. It’s your fault.”

Fast forward eleven years… I’m married, living in New Jersey with my husband and two small children of my own. I found a letter in the mail from Florida. A letter from the sister I’d never met. The sister my dad left us for because he loved her more than me.

She had just discovered she had a sister and nephews. She wanted to know anything and everything about this ‘wing’ of the family. The letter seemed heartfelt to me. I answered her.

Soon after the letter was sent I got a phone call. I heard, “Barb?” I said, “Yes.”

“This is your dad.”

Stunned silence from my end.

“I saw the letter you sent your sister.”

That seemed so strange to me… my sister. What the hell did I know about a sister except YOU love her more than me?

“I would love to see you and really love to see my grandsons!” he said.

Trying to think on my feet I said, “I really can’t afford to fly to Florida right now.”

“I’ll wire you the money!” was his answer.

Holy shit! What do I do now?? I said, “That’s really nice of you but I can’t just pick up and fly to Florida right now.”

“Why?” he asked.

I had no answer.

“Think about it,” he said, “I’ll call you back tomorrow.”

Needless to say I got absolutely no sleep that night. Why would I want to take my kids into this, potentially, hostile environment? Hadn’t he proven he relegated me to second class?

But… there was a sister. I had never had a sister. She seemed genuine about wanting to meet me, learn about my life… get to know her nephews. A sister. I was intrigued… and I had never been to Florida.

My husband thought it was a good idea even though he couldn’t join us. He suggested I leave the return flight open. If I was uncomfortable when I got there I could return the next day. That was my safety net.

I didn’t have an extensive wardrobe in those days but I had every bit of it on my bed trying to decide what to pack as a million questions ran through my head. What if his wife hated me? Would she be the shrew my mother said she was? What if _____ (fill in the blank). My stomach was in knots.

As it turned out I stayed a week. His wife was lovely and I really enjoyed being with my sister. Time with my father was awkward. He kept trying to find common ground and the sad truth… there was none.

He had a horse… I’m not into horses. He had a boat… I don’t swim and fear deep water so that wasn’t happening. He played golf… I had just taken lessons. Eureka!

So on a balmy and overcast day we went out to play golf. I was terrible at it but we enjoyed a peaceable couple of hours. It was a start.

I felt it was good for my kids to get to know their grandfather, since they had no relationship with my mother. Unfortunately over the years my father has shown his true colors and we no longer have a relationship.

I’ve never regretted taking that leap of faith and flying blindly into uncharted territory. I’ve always felt it’s best to know the truth than to wonder.

***

Barbara Hammond is an Artist, Writer/Blogger and Published Author and illustrator of The Duffy Chronicles, her first children’s book. Blogging made her realize we all have a story. Sometimes we don’t want to expose the underbelly of our story but that is often where the true lessons come from. Our circumstances do not define us. She is a true optimist and living proof that a good sense of humor can get you through almost anything.

***

Barbara, I admire what you did. You rose above the heartache of hearing your mother say, “His other daughter is sick… he loves her more than he loves you so he went home to her. It’s your fault.” I cannot imagine the impact of such cruel words on a small child, and the fact that you were willing to give a chance to your sons to get to meet their grandfather, and to yourself to meet your half sister is heroic.

Please share your comments with Barbara below and she’ll be over to answer. I met Barbara online, and know she’s very giving and caring. You can connect with her on Facebook and Twitter @hammondart.

***

Do you have a “My Gutsy Story”?

To submit your own, “My Gutsy Story” you can find all the information, and our sponsors on the “My Gutsy Story” contest page. (VIDEO) Submission guidelines here.

Please share the “My Gutsy Story” series with others on Twitter using the #MyGutsyStory. Thank you.

VOTING for your favorite February 2012, “My Gutsy Story” starts March 1st through March 14th. The winner will be announced on Thursday March 15th.

Are French Parents More Gutsy?

February 23, 2012 by Sonia Marsh

After reading an article in the Wall Street Journal about “Why French Parents are Superior” by Pamela Druckerman, it finally hit me that some of my child-rearing methods are actually more French than I care to admit. I’m not French, but I spent a good chunk of my youth growing up in the suburbs of Paris.

My three sons are adults now, and grew up in the U.S., however, Druckerman brought up one main difference between French parenting and American parenting that struck a chord. She said, “Who’s the boss?” She then gave the French answer:

French parents say, “It’s me who decides.”

Who’s the boss, you or your kids?

Right after my husband, Duke and I, made the decision to uproot our family from Orange County, California, to Belize, Central America, I remember being asked the following question, almost daily: “So what do your kids think about your decision to move to Belize?”

At the time, I thought this was a stupid question. Now I realize why.

BEACH VIEW BELIZE — Belize, Ambergris Caye, near our house.

Below is an excerpt from a chapter in my book: Freeways to Flip-Flops: Our Year of Living Like the Swiss family Robinson.

I’d become obsessed with Belize.

I’d tell anyone who cared to listen–including complete strangers in supermarket lines or at the gym—about how we were uprooting our family to live in Belize. Sometimes I imagined a glimpse of envy on a stranger’s face. That’s when I shifted into salesperson mode, trying to push them into doing the same. Duke warned me, “Don’t tell everyone about Belize; we don’t want people flocking there.”

Some people thought we were crazy. Others were skeptical. “Yeah, sure,” they said. “Let’s see if you really go ahead with it.” The second group always asked, “So what do your kids think?” to which I snapped back, “Who makes the decisions in your family, you or your kids?” Many looked shocked, but my European accent helped. It allowed people to classify me as an alien, despite my U.S. citizenship.

There are many times in life when you are faced with tough choices, and you need to make a decision. As parents, we cannot always cave in to what are kids want; we have to decide what’s best for the entire family. We need to guide and lead, and my experience with French parents, is that they are more strict, and perhaps more “old-fashioned” when it comes to child-rearing.

I could go on about so many aspects that Druckerman covers in her article: “Why French Parents Are Superior.” For example: teaching your kids polite manners, family eating habits, and disciplining your children, because I’ve seen it done the French way and the American way.

Since I’ve lived in both France and the U.S., as well as the U.K., Denmark and Belize, I can pick and choose what’s right for my family. That’s what I love about travel, and the expat life, you get exposed to different ways of looking at the decisions you make in your life.

What about you? Who’s the boss, you or your kids?

***

Do you have a “My Gutsy Story”?

To submit your own, “My Gutsy Story” you can find all the information, and our sponsors on the “My Gutsy Story” contest page. (VIDEO) Submission guidelines here.