Nature vs. Nurture – which is it and should you even care?

The debate of Nature vs. Nurture has been tossed about for years. It all boils down to the obvious conundrum: are we born this way or do our experiences mold us? Does it have to be one or the other? Could it be a combination of the two? As a writer, why should you care?


I’m no scientist or psychologist. I can’t prove or disprove either side of the argument. But as to why a writer should care is easy. By using nature AND nurture, layers of personality add depth to our characters to either endear or alienate them with our readers. A strong heroine triumphing over adversity triggers loyalty and affection. A character turned bad due to a history of abuse launches emotions ranging from heartfelt sympathy to an exploding sense of injustice and thirst for retribution. But writer beware. How you mold your character’s traits had best be plausible or you’ll catapult your readers right out of the story.

I’m a people watcher. I’ve studied them in an attempt to nail down believable reactions to outer influences. But have you ever noticed how reality often laughs at what “should” be? There are no constants when it comes to humans. Not every woman victimized by years of abuse turns out weak and unable to cope. Case in point: Oprah Winfrey. No one can deny the obstacles she’s overcome in becoming one of the most successful women of today. What made her different? Was it some special strand in her DNA enabling her to succeed? Or was it one particular life-changing event or person that led her through the darkness? Or was it a combination? We’ve read what she thinks. What do you think?

On the other side of the spectrum, we’ve all heard stories of the well-blessed child growing up to be a serial killer. What happened there? Close to my hometown, several years ago, we had just such a shocking incident. The seemingly well-adjusted son of a successful lawyer showed up at school, whipped out a gun and opened fire on his classmates. Everyone was astounded. Did he do it because he'd always been a loner and never quite fit in at school? Some blamed video games. I shudder to think that’s what caused the unexplainable violence. At the time the massacre occurred, video games couldn’t hold a candle to the games our children play now. The boy had everything he ever wanted, was well-loved and taken care of by his family. So, what went wrong? Nature?


I don’t know that there’s a correct answer to the question. What do you think? Have you ever read a book where the writer shaped the character by circumstances that were impossible to believe? How would you have told the story?

Have you thanked a Freedom Defender lately?

I know it's been blogged about a thousand times and in a thousand different ways. But it bears repeating. We owe the dedicated men and women of our armed forces, both past and present, an enormous debt of gratitude.


My husband served in the United States Air Force for almost ten years.  Now it seems like a lifetime ago. We were a "lucky" military family. Yes, we relocated every two years. And no, not a single member of our family met our youngest daughter until she was eighteen months old because she was born overseas. But I considered us lucky since my husband served during a time of peace. I didn't spend months or years of my life wondering if I would soon be widowed and left alone with two children.

Sometimes, we were seperated for months at a time while he attended training. But thankfully, he was never sent to any hellish places filled with enemies plotting the most effective means of torture or battlefields exploding with action. Even though we were apart, I always knew he was safe.

I might not always agree with where they're sent or what our brave service members are required to do. But I am eternally grateful to them. Because of them, I'm free to post my opinions on this blog without fear someone is going to burst into my house and drag me off to some dank, cold prison. Thanks to them, I sleep a little easier at night because I know they're doing their best to keep our country safe.

So, even though the "thank you's" have been said a thousand times, I feel it's never said often enough. Too many of these courageous souls return to their families in a flag-draped box, or worse yet - they never return at all. I appreciate the sacrifices each of them have made and I also extend that gratitude to their families. Remember them. Honor them. They've more than deserved it. This post is for the defenders of our freedom.

Could this be what I think it is?

I wonder if the veil between worlds is thinner in Scotland? Take a close look at this picture. Do you see the curling wisp of white smoke twisting up over the wall of Edinburgh Castle? I snapped this shot while touring the castle during our trip at the beginning of this month. I wanted a picture of the great view across Edinburgh and especially the coal-tarnished spire of the church on the right.

I didn't notice this odd-looking stream of white smoke crossing the picture until we'd arrived home and printed the pictures. I use a digital camera and always check the shots on the viewer plus we downloaded the pics onto my netbook each night when we returned to our room.

There also wasn't a sign of any smoke anywhere that day. I've got the nose of a prize-winning bloodhound coupled with a monstrous sensitivity to smoke of any kind. I'm a reformed smoker, haven't had a cigarette in over twenty years. I’m a better smoke detector than the sort that needs batteries.

When I saw this phenomena the first time, I asked my husband if he remembered any smoke that day and jokingly added that perhaps it was one of our ancestors saying hello from the other side.

My husband descends from Clan Maxwell. My lineage traces back to the MacDonalds. Perhaps this visitor wished to be noticed by its descendants from "across the pond".

We'll never be certain what it was that day and I know some folks will laugh and blow it off. But I hope it was one of our long ago kin making contact from the other side. I wish them peace and safe journey.

How much is too much?

While talking to another author earlier today, I was asked how I thought I was doing in the Writing With the Stars contest. After swallowing hard, I kind of shook my head and confessed that I had misgivings about this voting stuff.  He didn't quite understand what I meant until I expounded on my doubts. "I'm afraid I'm not very good at putting myself out there and scrounging up votes.  I don't want to alienate people by constantly harping on and on about the contest."

He immediately bobbed his head in agreement.  "I know exactly what you mean.  I just unfollowed and unfriended this one individual because of their incessant posts and tweets about nothing but buying their book.  That's all they ever did. Read this excerpt.  The buy links right here.  I finally had enough - I GOT THE MESSAGE.  All they ever talked about was selling that damn book."

Which begs the question: how much is too much?  Twitter, Facebook, Myspace - there's an endless list of social networks out there that authors use to get the word out about their stories, connect with their readers and let them know what's going on in their world. 

But I've decided this global marketing thing can be much like walking a tight rope.  I have to admit, I've grown a little weary at times with people who seem to hold down that BUY MY BOOK button on the various forums.  Don't get me wrong, I love hearing about the new releases and reading the excerpts a couple of times...but when it's endless, it gets a bit old.  My book, BEYOND A HIGHLAND WHISPER comes out in February.  Will I be guilty of doing the same thing?  I hope not.  Knowing my fear of irritating people (writer = introvert), I'll run the risk of not talking it up enough.

I'm of the mind that blogging about the other stuff in our lives (trips, pet's antics, adorable kids, writing stuff) will (hopefullly) be more welcomed in the "readersphere" then a constant stream of BUY MY BOOK.  Of course, I could be dead wrong and just fooling myself into thinking this so I'll have an excuse not to pester people.  What do you think?  How do we as authors strike the perfect balance?

By the way *ahem* and *clearing throat with a shy gulp* - the link to vote on round one is here if you'd like to help me out.  Tomorrow is the last day to vote in this round:
http://www.rtbookreviews.com/content/writing-stars-vote-first-paragraph-and-last-line

*Sigh* I danced with a handsome Irishman!

Have you ever experienced one of those once in a lifetime moments?  The kind that makes it utterly impossible to stop smiling?  While on our tour of Ireland, I had one of those moments that still elicits a *happy sigh* everytime I replay it in my head.

One night of our visit was spent enjoying the lively entertainment at Tayor's Three Rock Pub.  Celtic musicians, wondrous dancers that could've starred in a Broadway production of Riverdance and an Irish comedian so funny he had us gasping between bursts of laughter filled the evening.

 

 During the livelier tunes and the dancer's heart thumping steps, I clapped along with the music and tapped my foot in time with the Celtic beat.  The music sang to my soul. 

At the onset of the final performance, the emcee announced the Celtic dancers would be choosing partners from the audience to join them in the final reel.  I knew I wouldn't be chosen.  I was well back from the front row, perfectly safe in my middle of the crowd seat.  Or so I thought.

I'd turned to take a sip of water and my husband leaned in close and whispered, "You're had."

I looked up and a lovely, dark-eyed Irishman stood in front of me with his hand extended.

I shook my head.  "Oh no, I can't."

He flashed his wicked smile, grabbed my hand and pulled me up from my seat.  "Oh yes, ye can!"

And we danced.  Well.  He danced.  I hopped up and down on one foot and tried to follow his grinning instructions to move this way, spin now, cross here, and etc., etc.

At the end of the reel, he gave me a warm hug and a hearty, "Well done."

     I melted.  Yes.  I'm old enough to be the striking lad's mother.  Yes.  I hopped up and down on my one good foot like a lame duck. (I'd broken the other one earlier in the trip.)  But in my memories, I floated light as a feather across the floor with a darling Irishman!

A Writer's Alphabet

See the new footwear I acquired when I returned home from my trip? My husband thinks I'm extremely hard-headed.  I prefer to think of it as determined.  On day one of our trip to Scotland and Ireland, I twisted my way down a step and managed to break two bones in my foot.  On day two, I did it again.  Apparently, I'm a slow learner.  However, I have now FINALLY learned that while walking down steps and taking pictures, PAY ATTENTION TO WHERE YOU PUT YOUR FEET.  The reason my husband believes I'm a bit stubborn is because I didn't go to the doctor until we returned.  I gimped around on my lame foot for two weeks because I didn't want to deal with a clinic visit during my trip.

Anyway, for some strange reason (I have no idea why my mind works the way it does)...my silly head used this mishap to come up with the following writer's alphabet. 

A - is for author.  I write stories.  Hey, that's me!
B - is for bestseller.  That's what I want my books to be.
C - is for cliche.  Bad things! Everyone's heard it a thousand times.
D - is for determined.  If you're not determined...you won't survive.
E - is for email.  It can make or break your day.
F - is for Facebook.  A social place for work and play.
G - is for gulp.  What you do when you get a reply about your book.
H - is for happy.  What you are when an editor requests another look.
I - is for impatient.  What an author must learn not to be.
J - is for job.  We do this when we'd rather be writing.
K - is for kindness. Authors thrive when this is laced through a constructive critique.
L - is for looney.  Some people think we're this just because we listen to the "voices" of our muse.
M - is for manuscript.  The official word for our babies that we've nudged out into the world.
N - is for neverending.  There's always a story brewing.
O - is for opinion.  Everyone has one - sometimes good and sometimes bad. *sigh*
P - is for proof.  We do this a THOUSAND times and still don't see that one error until AFTER we've hit SEND.
Q - is for query.  A plea to editors, agents and publishers to please love our "baby" as much as we do.
R - is for revise.  If we revise it just one more time...maybe then it will be perfect.
S - is for story.  That's what it's all about.
T - is for tension.  What a good story has.
U - is for unwavering.  An author must never give up.
V - is for voice.  Find your "one of a kind" voice and shine!
W - is for writing.  What else would we do if not for writing our lovely tales?
X - marks the spot to sign on the contract we all hope to win.
Y - is for yelling at the computer when it doesn't save your file.
Z - is for Rebecca Zanetti - my great mentor in the Writing With the Stars contest! http://www.rtbookreviews.com/content/writing-stars-vote-first-paragraph-and-last-line

How about your writer's alphabet?  What "descriptions" would you use?

Sage Advice

How do the very young become so very wise? My six year old granddaughter and I sat on the porch swing, enjoying the refreshing autumn breeze on a Sunday afternoon. She'd found a wondrous rock, all smooth and shining with the most interesting indentations around the circumference of its egg-shaped surface. This special rock exuded magical properties.  It was a wishing rock. She informed me we needed to hold this lucky rock against our foreheads, close our eyes and make our wishes. The rock allowed us each three wishes. I didn't know how she knew this, but such sincerity shone in her clear blue eyes, I didn't doubt her a bit.


She held the rock to her forehead, closed her eyes and made her wishes. Then she pressed the cool stone of promise against my brow so that I could make mine. I made my wishes. Who wouldn't take a chance at a little extra luck? I opened my eyes and asked her what else we should do to make certain our wishes came true? Did we need to keep them a secret? What were the wishing rock's rules?

Her eyes widened and she stared at me. "YaYa, don't you know the secret to making all your wishes come true?"

I squirmed a bit beneath such scrutiny, reluctant to admit the truth. "No. What's the secret?"

"It's easy," she said. "All you have to do is believe in yourself."

My heart swelled at the sincerity in her tone.  Such wise advice coming from one so young. She knew the secret and I didn't. I thanked her for teaching me such a simple lesson that I wish I'd learned long ago.