So last week was a lost and confusing week because my
daughter was home sick for much of it. This week is shaping up to be a lost
week because I am sick!
Yes, my generous daughter shared her cold with me. I am not as sick as she was,
but still not up to par. A bit fuzzy-headed, and just tired. Drained.
I’ve been sleeping a lot, trying to knock this cold out quicker. Of all the
medicines I have tried in my life, nothing works as well for me as simply
sleeping. So I’ve been catching naps while my daughter is at school.
A major reason I want to get over this cold quickly is because I have a weekend
long training for my Board of Education position starting on Friday. Not only
do I want to be alert for the very intense schedule, but I don’t want to be
that annoying person hacking their way through the workshops. My plan is to sit
near a door and bring a pocket full of cough drops.
I look forward to this new chapter continuing to unfold. Even if this bit of it
smells like menthol.
A New Chapter
Sick Days February 2020
It’s funny how much we rely on routines to define time. Here it is Wednesday, and I feel like it’s the weekend. Why? Because my daughter is home sick from school for the third day in a row. She’s home, so my brain tells me it is still the weekend.
It’s hard to get work done when she’s home. Not so much because I am nursing her a lot—she’s old enough that she can take pretty good care of herself. But she needs little things, like water and food and sometimes just a cuddle because she feels awful. Things that individually do not take a long time, but add up. And the constant interruptions splinter the work flow and make it harder to complete a task efficiently.
I did still get some things done this week. This blog post, for one. And the weekly one I do over on The Author Chronicles. I also finished my last go-through of my YA sci-fi manuscript Veritas and sent it over to my editor. I went to a cyber-bullying presentation one evening at the school. I went food shopping. And I somehow managed to clean out the hall closet.
Still, it was hard with my daughter laying on the couch—especially when she was napping. I don’t know what it is, but when someone else is sleeping, I want to conk out. Maybe it’s a throwback to the old advice, “Sleep when the baby sleeps.” She’s not a baby anymore, but she still exhausts me.
Of course, I am tired, too. She had rough nights the past two nights, which means so did I. Helping her get changed 3 times in one night because she fever was breaking and she would wake up drenched in sweat. Cuddling with her at 4:30 in the morning because she was too congested to sleep. She is sleeping as I write this, and I hope she sleeps all night.
I hope I do, too—so I am heading up to try.
How about you? Do you get completely lost when your routines are messed up?
Holding Pattern
At certain times of my life, I have felt like something was just around the corner.
Like a big change was coming. Sort of like the atmosphere just before a
thunderstorm breaks, when things are calm but there’s an electricity in the
air.
I feel a bit like that now, except that I shouldn’t. I have, in fact, already had
changes in my life recently, the largest being the loss of my aunt and my
taking on my position on the Board of Education. Yet I still feel this sense of
waiting.
Perhaps what I am waiting for is a feeling within myself that something profound
has happened. For it all to sink in, as it were. There is a line from Glenn
Frey’s song You Belong to the City
that I always liked, “So much has happened, but nothing has changed.”
Because isn’t that how it often is? The minutia of life continues without
heeding your internal changes, or the changes in your external life. When my
best friend died, I so clearly remember feeling detached from everything,
looking around me wondering how people could be going about their lives like
nothing had happened. Marveling that the deepest shift in my life to that date
left most of the world completely unmarked.
Now it’s the opposite. I am the one moving through my life as if nothing is
different, yet things have changed. I suppose it is part of the
process, of finding a new balance. I imagine I will look back in 6 months
and see the changes clearly. But for now the changes are incremental, so I don’t
see them. Like how you don’t notice how tall your kid has gotten until someone
else says it, because you see them every day.
So even though I feel like I am in a holding pattern, things are shifting. It will be interesting to
see where the changing course takes me.
NJASL 2019
My last book event for 2019 is now behind me. It was the annual New Jersey Association of School Librarians conference, this year held in East Brunswick. I normally only go for one day of the event, but as it was relatively close to me, I decided to do both days.
I love hanging out with fellow authors and chatting with the many dedicated librarians who come to the conference. I always learn something and feel buoyed by being with people who love books as much as I do!
We share tables at this conference, and this year I had a different partner each day. On Monday I sat with Suzanne Morris, a debut picture book author, whose book A Trapezoid Is Not A Dinosaur! is both a book about shapes and an engaging story about trying to fit in and being accepted for who you are.
On Tuesday I sat with Laurie Morrison, middle grade author of Every Shiny Thing and her new book Up For Air. (As an aside, I have Morrisons in my recent ancestry, but I don’t think we are connected.) We spent the first few hours trying to figure out why we both thought the other one was familiar. Finally, the answer hit us—the Philadelphia Writers’ Conference! Laurie had stepped in to teach a seminar when another presenter had cancelled, and I had taken her 3-day seminar.
Although the days can feel long sometimes, my fellow authors always help fill the time. We discussed kids, business plans, publishing in general, editors, and school visits, among other topics. I never walk away empty-handed, as I have usually gleaned new ideas or information and have made some new contacts.
Thanks, NJASL for the opportunity to talk with your amazing librarian members! I will see you next year!
And Then There Were None…RIP MiniSeashell
It’s been a while since we checked in with the adventures of
our fish. Unfortunately, our fish tank sits empty at the moment, the last of
its denizens having expired Dec 1st.
When last we left our intrepid adventurers, Glimmer and MiniSeashell were
together in their tank, having dispatched their tank mate Seashell3 after just
a few days.
Glimmer did not have much time to enjoy life in our house. We bought him and
Mini in March 2018, and Glimmer died on November 27, 2018, while we were in
North Carolina (our apologies to our fish-sitter, who had to endure the trauma
of finding him dead and give him the appropriate funeral). Before we’d left for
North Carolina, he had taken to hanging more vertically than horizontally.
Young Owner said Glimmer “wants to be a mermaid.” Unfortunately, this was the
same sort of bizarre behavior the two fish that died of tumors exhibited prior
to their tumors becoming obvious, so I suspect he was ill with something
similar. It was not a large surprise that he expired when he did.
So that left MiniSeashell. You may remember that he was called Mini because he was not much larger than the top part of my pinkie when we bought him. I tried my hardest to get Young Owner to pick a different fish, because I was sure he would die on the ride home. He didn’t, and eventually grew to normal guppy size, even though his tail fins remained so translucent that I often had to check very closely to make sure his tail was not succumbing to the fin rot that claimed another of our fish.
Mini was an odd fish from the start. Most fish, when you drop food in the tank, swarm it like they haven’t eaten in years, and hoover it up like a vacuum. Not Mini. He apparently thought he was a shark, because he stalked his food. He would hide under the plant leaves, then dart to the top and snag a piece, pulling it under like Jaws. Alternatively, he would wait for the flakes to drop lower and lower and grab the pieces when they fell to his level. Perhaps this odd way of eating (he did this even with tank mates present) explains why he was so small in the main fish tank at the pet store. There probably wasn’t much that escaped the school and got to him.
He was also an introvert. I know, I know, guppies are social fish, they like to have a school. And all our other ones did. When we got down to a single fish, that fish would sulk, not swimming around, just hanging out, clearly distressed. Not so with Mini. He seemed to enjoy having the tank to himself, swimming around happily, coming to the front of the tank to see what we were up to, and stalking his food with no competition. We decided that as long as he was acting happy, we would not get new tank mates for him, because we were afraid that new fish might bring a disease, which is what we think killed Seashell3 when we introduced Glimmer and Mini into the tank with him.
So he lived a happy life alone in his tank. The morning of December 1st, I noticed him acting odd. When I dropped in the food, he didn’t come out of hiding to take up his usual stalking positions. I wiggle the plant he had hidden in, and he popped out for a moment, then went right back in. My heart dropped, because his bright orange scales looked dimmer to me—which often happens right before a fish expires. Later that night, we went to get the Christmas decorations down, and I went to check on him. I couldn’t find him. We ended up taking most of the plants out before we found him, dead.
Young Owner cried a lot, which surprised me, as she took most of the other fish deaths (his was #8) in stride. But she said he was special, and she loved him, and that she would watch him in the morning and it would make her late for school. And that he was the only one who understood her. So I guess MiniSeashell had meant more to her than I had thought. Still, the guppy lifespan is about 18 months, and he lived with us for 19 months, so he had a full life, and a tranquil one.
RIP Glimmer and Mini.
Their story is ended, but I am sure the fish saga will continue…
NaNoWriMo 2019: Week 3
When I started this project, I wasn’t sure I’d make it to week 3. It’s a difficult thing, trying to write 1,667 words a day when you have multiple other responsibilities. But I surprised myself by managing to stay on top of things.
Until this week. This week killed me. I have been so busy with other obligations that I have had to schedule time to breathe. Write words? Forget it! I’ve lost 2 days to zeros and am likely to lose one more.
All is not lost, however. November 21st (today) is 3 weeks. If you wrote 1,667 words a day, you would have 35,007 words by the end of today. As of this writing, I stand at 37,007 words. So even with those 3 zero days this week, I am 2,000 words ahead. A little over a day’s work ahead. It just feels like I am falling behind because I am losing my cushion.
I should be able to keep up and hopefully forge further ahead in the coming days, as my schedule lightens considerably. Thanksgiving may well be another zero day, but hopefully I will be comfortably in the home stretch by then.
I’m also not trying for the 50,000, although if I do it will be icing on the cake. I am trying to get a first draft of this story. I figure I have about 8 more chapters at most, so that would put me short of the 50,000—maybe about 45,000. But as long as my last two words are THE END, I will count this as a success.
I will be writing over my holiday, as much as I can. I wish all my fellow authors some productive creative time, whether you are doing NaNo or not, and I wish everyone a happy and safe Thanksgiving with friends and family.
NaNoWriMo 2019–hitting the wall
I told you all last week that I am unofficially doing National Novel Writing Month. Only I guess since I’ve announced it to all of you, it’s semi-official now. But I haven’t joined on their website, so it’s not official-official.
Anyway, I’m doing this thing. 50,000 words in 30 days. And I’m a bit shocked at how well I’ve been doing. I’m almost halfway there. As of Tuesday night, I was at 24,500 words. Cool, right? But then Wednesday I hit a wall. Kinda like a runner when they’re on that last few miles of a marathon.
I guess I should have expected a wall at some point. I am not an outliner, although I have a basic plan to follow for the book, and I’ll admit I am a tad unsure of where to go next. But I think my brain is also just tired. I mean, I just spewed 24,500 words out in 11 days.
That’s a lot of words.
It’s also cold as all get out here right now, so it’s perfect weather for curling up with a warm drink and a good book, not for pulling words out of your brain. On Wednesday I realized I wasn’t going to write. I scrolled Facebook, I fought with a webpage as I tried to make an appointment, and did other work–like this blog post and the links-roundup over on The Author Chronicles. So while I didn’t write any fiction words, it was overall a productive day.
Hopefully this “day off” will let me jump back into my manuscript today with some energy and push through that notoriously difficult middle of the story. They don’t call it the “sagging middle” or “muddy middle” for nothing, after all.
So that’s where I am in NaNoWriMo–a bit lost, a bit tired, but not giving up. Any other fellow NaNo writers out there? How are you doing? And if you’re not doing NaNo, what are you up to these days?
5 Lessons about Writing from Recess Runners
My daughter’s school has a program called Recess Runners. It is a totally voluntary program where kids can come at recess and run or walk around a 1/4 mile track. When they amass a mile, they get a token to hang on their necklace.
Now, if anyone had told me in school that I had the option of running a mile at recess for fun, I would have told them “No way!”. But the program is very popular. Lots of kids running/walking. And I realized I could take some writing lessons from those kids.
1. Find the joy
These kids are having fun. Some are running because they love to run. Some enjoy walking and chatting with their friends. But it is fun for them. Sometimes I get so wrapped up in the business side of writing that I forget to have fun. Or I lose the fun of writing under the constant worry that this book won’t be good enough. I need to find the fun again—feel the wind in my face as I write.
2. Go at your own pace
They all start at the same line, but they all go at their own pace. Some zip around 4 or more times in one recess. Some make it twice. For some it’s a struggle; for some it’s easy. But they all made progress. It can be hard not to compare your own career to other people’s. Some authors are prolific, pouring out books like coffee. Some are snails, a book every few years. My journey is different from theirs, and I need to remember that.
3. Remember this was voluntary
The kids don’t have to participate. They don’t even have to participate in every session. It’s a choice for them. Writing is, too. Well, maybe not the urge to write, but the choice to write for publication. I chose to go the extra mile to continually improve my craft and pay for workshops and conferences and edits. I chose to seek representation and the rejection that inevitably comes with that process. So if it ever becomes too much, I can choose to reassess and see if it’s still where I want to be.
4. Set your own goals
Every kid has a different reason for being there. Some just want to run and get energy out. Some are competitive and want to rack up as many tokens as they can. Some are there because they want to be healthier and get more exercise. Some just want to walk and chat with their friends. Every writer has their own goals, too. Some only have one book and just want it out there. Some don’t care about the money and just want to see their work available. Some want to make a living at this writing gig. My own goals are modest, realistic, and so far largely unattained. But I am working toward them, just like all those kids are.
5. It’s the effort that counts
The biggest thing I’ve taken away from this, however, is that it’s all in the journey. The striving is what needs to be applauded. We can’t always control the outcomes of our efforts, and we won’t always reach our goals. But we are in control of our effort, our dedication, and our attitude. I won’t use the platitude that the work is its own reward (although sometimes it is), but sometimes the effort leads to opportunities and rewards we didn’t expect, if we are open to them.
So kudos to all the kids having fun running, and I hope to incorporate the lessons I have learned from them in my writing life.
Celebrating 50 Years!
No, not me. (Not yet.)
This month is my parents’ 50th wedding anniversary. That’s a long time to spend with the same person. Given that the expected lifespan in America is not yet 100 years, that is more than half of your life. My parents have spent almost twice as much time married as single.
It takes a lot of commitment and a bit of luck to last 50 years. I think we will see fewer 50 and 60 year marriages now, because so many of us are marrying later. I married at 14 years older than my mother did. I would be 86 when my marriage hits 50 years.
I wanted to give a shout out to my parents for the wonderful example they have set for me and my brother. They weren’t TV-family perfect, they had their moments of disagreement, but always there was respect and love—and laughter, too..
Here’s to many more happy years for them!
When a Story Refuses to Work
I’ve been working on my science fiction YA story Veritas for a long time. Maybe 5 years. Which isn’t as long as some people have worked on books, but it’s long for me. Finally, about a year ago I felt like I had gotten it to a good place, and sent it to my editor.
She and I both felt it was the best thing I had ever written, and after I fixed a few flaws she’d pointed out, I sent it around to agents.
No one wanted it.
I finally found one agent who loved the writing but was less enamored of the story as told. Gave me some feedback and said she would be happy to look at it if I revised it. I hemmed and hawed for a long while—I wasn’t a fan of some of the changes she wanted, and it took me a while to find a way forward. So I sliced and diced and added and pretty much rewrote the whole thing. It came out very different.
But was it actually any better?
I knew something wasn’t right, but I had worked on Veritas so long and hard that I had lost objectivity. So I sent it back to my editor, hoping the edits needed would become clear and not be too onerous.
The result was not good.
My feeling that something wasn’t right was correct. In fact, most of the story wasn’t correct. And before you think I am just accepting the editor’s notes at face value, I agree with what she’s saying. I’d just been too close to see it—but I knew it somewhere inside. I’d done a lot of work and gone backward. I had been left with a disaster wrapped in a catastrophe.
So now what? I think I finally figured out why I am struggling so much with the story. My protagonist’s goals aren’t clear enough. So I need to think about that. But I also need to think about whether I want to invest more time and emotion into this story.
If I do go forward (and I likely will, because I am nothing if not stubborn), I may go back to my original manuscript and start over from there with the new perspectives of the agent and this misfired rewrite. Just because version one was the best thing I had written to date doesn’t mean it couldn’t be improved. I’m not vain enough to think anything I write is perfect.
I will likely put Veritas aside for a bit, though. Let my subconscious chew on everything. I have a first draft of a manuscript I want to work on, so will probably jump to that and get that moving.
Have you ever had a story that was SO CLOSE but you just couldn’t get right? How did you overcome that?