In 1991, the issue of sexual harassment in the workplace became the topic of a national debate, sparked by the Senate confirmation hearings of Supreme Court nominee Clarence Thomas, in which Professor Anita Hill testified that Thomas had sexually harassed her when he was her supervisor.  The hearings were televised, so the public was able to make up their own minds as to who was telling the truth, as Thomas denied all Hill’s allegations. Thomas was eventually confirmed by the narrowest margin since the 19^th century.

Did you watch the hearings on TV, or follow them on the news? Who did you think was telling the truth, Hill or Thomas? Do you remember Thomas’ claim that he was the victim of a high-tech lynching for uppity blacks? Do you think that was true? Do you remember the to-do over the pubic hair on a can of Coke? Were you disgusted by this story? Were you inspired by Anita Hill’s courage, or did you think she had another motive? Finally, were you ever the victim of sexual harassment? If so, what’s the story – what happened to you, and what did you do about it? Suck it up, or fight?

If you have a story (or stories) about social mores during the 1990s, please share them, and if you share them here on this blog, tell me if I can use them in my upcoming new edition of Making History. (I will credit you, of course.)

I try to leave The Cat alone as much as possible, but Alex is trying to beat her at her own game. The result is War. I am the War Correspondent. Here’s the latest from the battlefield:

We have a dog door into the back yard. (The Cat thinks it is a cat door.) Somehow The Cat knows when Alex starts to think about going outside to pee or dig a hole. (Her weird cat eyes can see inside his brain.) So she has taken to sitting in front of the dog door inside the house when

Alex wants to go outside. She won’t move, no matter how much he dances in front of her. She just stares at him, which reminds him of all the times she has swiped at his nose with her claws. The stand-off continues until the human comes along and makes The Cat move.

Alex figured out a way to get back at The Cat. He can’t see inside her head, but he waits until he sees her get off her bean bag (which is really MY bean bag) and then he races into the kitchen and parks himself in front of the water dish. His body is just the right size and shape to curl around the dish and he won’t move when she comes in to get a drink. She stares at him but somehow he knows that he has the upper hand this time and he just stares back. This stand-off continues until the human comes along and makes Alex move. She says The Cat needs water too. The traitor.

I applaud Alex for his sneakiness in winning a battle, but I know that in the end The Cat will win the war. As I’ve said before, The Cat always wins.

ah, education
if you need to know it all
be prepared to fail

It’s Haiku Friday again.  For the past twenty years or so, it has been my practice to write one haiku every day. Every Friday I share a haiku here, about whatever topic I happen to choose.  I invite you to write a haiku on this topic too, and share it with me and the readers of this blog.  Just write it in the Comments below.  The only rules are:  1) your haiku must be about the named topic; 2) you must follow the 5-7-5 syllable format; 3) no obscenities or hate (I will delete those).  That’s it.

It went like this:

1. Go to page 77 of your current manuscript or WIP (work in progress)
2. Go to line 7
3. Copy the next 7 lines – sentences or paragraphs – and post them as they’re written. No cheating.

She also recommended that you tag 7 authors and let them know you’ve done so, which I have not done. But I did think it would be interesting to take 7 lines at random and see what I communicated in that short space. So I took a look at one of my current projects, “Wisdom Tales”, went to page 77, and am now posting the 7 lines beginning on line 7 of that page. Here are those lines:

“Scree!” shrieked the bird, with an evil leer, his brilliant eyes intent.  “I am going to peck your eyes out and eat them, eat them, eat them!  Learn to fly blind, my dear.”  The bird pulled its beak back in preparation to strike.

Paralyzed with fear, she watched the sharp point of the beak start its downward descent, right toward her eyes. Just before the beak reached her, she suddenly remembered her shield, and with a swift movement she thrust it in front of her face.  The bird’s beak crashed with an echoing bonnnng into the shield.  The top of the fir tree shook violently from the force of the blow,

So what do you think?  I can already see mistakes (what’s that first comma doing there?) and places where I could tighten (do I really need the phrase “paralyzed with fear”?), smooth, or enhance – and this is only 7 lines! However, I think the mood of terror comes through, so as it’s only a first draft, I’ll probably keep some of it.

If you think this looks like fun, you might try it yourself.

You probably don’t know this, but I have a Facebook page called (Author Kim Pearson). I haven’t done too much with it up to now, but that is changing, because I am putting some focus and intensity on my own writing, as well as continuing to ghostwrite. My blog posts will appear here, and I’ll be sharing my new WIP and asking for feedback.

So if you’re on Facebook, please Please Like Me!

To make it worth your while, I’m offering some FREEBIES! (See the top right corner of the page.)

You can read my short story The Boogy Cats for free. It’s one of the short stories in my collection Creature Discomforts, about a platoon of cats executing an elaborate revenge. And if you like this short story (you will!) you can buy the whole collection for just .99 cents.

Or if you’ve ever considered ghostwriting as a career or hobby, my FREE e-book is also available on this page; Ten Reasons to Be a Ghostwriter, and Ten Tips on How to Do It.        

I hope you like me.

fall in love again
entwine your toes together
hold hands, don’t let go

 It’s Haiku Friday again.  For the past twenty years or so, it has been my practice to write one haiku every day. Every Friday I share a haiku here, about whatever topic I happen to choose.  I invite you to write a haiku on this topic too, and share it with me and the readers of this blog.  Just write it in the Comments below.  The only rules are:  1) your haiku must be about the named topic; 2) you must follow the 5-7-5 syllable format; 3) no obscenities or hate (I will delete those).  That’s it.

In 1995 the General Agreement on Tariffs & Trade (GATT) was replaced by the World Trade Organization (WTO), a global economic institution. However, opposition by anti-globalization activists was prevalent during the 90s, and was especially visible in late1999 with the protests at the WTO Conference in Seattle, Washington, sometimes referred to as The Battle in Seattle. The massive scale of these street protests (low estimates put the crowd at over 40,000 strong) made news on a global scale.

Do you remember the anti-globalization protests in Seattle in 1999? If you lived in Seattle, did you protest, or were you affected by the protests? (Perhaps it was difficult for you to get to work?) If you lived elsewhere, were you in sympathy with the aims of the protesters? Did you know what they were protesting about? Do you think these protests had an effect on the global economy or global economic institutions?

If you have a story (or stories) about this economic event, or any other economic events/trends of the 1990s, please share them, and if you share them on this blog, tell me if I can use them in my upcoming edition of Making History. (I will credit you, of course.)

My human will make me wear a red bow around my neck. She will try to make Alex wear a red bow too, but I know that he will just chew it off and spit the pieces on the ground. Alex is still trying to learn human manners, but he is a slow learner. Either that or he just doesn’t care.

No one will try to make The Cat wear anything, although I think my human should try – either The Cat will lose the skirmish and get to look stupid (glorious thought) or my human will sprout blood from her scratches, and after all, blood is red. Not that I want my human to be hurt, I just want her to see red and get rid of The Cat. (I know this will never happen.)

talent means nothing
to play in the major leagues
you must work hard too

It’s Haiku Friday again. For the past twenty years or so, it has been my practice to write one haiku every day. Every Friday I share a haiku here, about whatever topic I happen to choose. I invite you to write a haiku on this topic too, and share it with me and the readers of this blog. Just write it in the Comments below. The only rules are: 1) your haiku must be about the named topic; 2) you must follow the 5-7-5 syllable format; 3) no obscenities or hate (I will delete those). That’s it.

Our oldest sense, lodging right down there at the base of our reptilian brains, is smell. Describing the way things smell is a powerful way of creating a “you are there” sense in your reader. It is also one of the best ways to evoke buried memories. If you are remembering or describing an event, ask yourself what you smell. Do you remember the sweetness of the lilacs blooming in the front yard, or the hot smell of burning rubber, or the welcoming smell of frying onions? Here is a piece I wrote about the smells of the past:

I remember smelling the cheap wine we drank in college, so sweet it would make me gag now. It was called Ripple and was favored by winos, a class of people I knew absolutely nothing about, but we were liberal hippies and thought we should identify with the underdogs. At parties we drank Ripple a lot, because of the other quality it possessed – it was cheap. But I remember one party when I was introduced to other flavors, a dark party held in someone’s third floor apartment, lit by blue lava lamps and the glow from the neon tetras in the dirty fish tank. An older guy came to the party – he was 30 at least – bringing with him a bottle of Scotch and cubes of hashish; he wore an army jacket and his hair in a ponytail. From this description you can tell that he was cool and all the girls wanted him, including me. My ego swelled to the exact same size as my fear when his eyes – and his hands – chose me. He smelled like leather and cigarettes when he kissed me, and underneath was the smell of dark wild masculinity, a thrilling smell that shrieked danger! danger! and which I of course chose to ignore.