Dangerous With a Pen

A Flair for the Dramatic

2011-09-05T18:27:00.000-07:00

My big girl, Tootsie Roll, is about to turn 9 later this month, and will begin fourth grade on Wednesday. TR has always been a dramatic kid, from the first four colicky months of constant day-and-night screamage to the following ten months of ear infections (tubes saved the day at 15 months). She pulled a tv onto her head at age two, and got stitches above her lip thanks to a smack in the face by a pole at age five (that's what happens when you keep swinging around it, let this be a lesson to you all).

She has since channeled her energies into more productive and artistic venues, from theater camp to tap/jazz/ballet classes to teaching herself basic piano to nonstop singing to upcoming violin lessons this year. Her Type A side (ohh she's her mom) is coming out in the way she likes to have people follow the rules and her love of lists and schedules. She is emotional, doesn't understand why people hurt one another, and is a fabulous writer for her ability to see deeply into people's feelings. The constant physical drama of her younger years has definitely melted into early tween navigation through friendships and the pouring of thoughts onto paper.

But then yesterday, riding her bike as the summer days dwindle, she fell, and in a style befitting a much younger version of herself, got a lovely bike handle (sans streamers) directly in the gut.

Yes, that is the exact impression of the end of her bike handle with the hole in the middle where streamers could go if she weren't a super cool almost 9 year old.

Yeah, her new bike is black and pink with skully things on it. Love. Anyway, no worries, we did the responsible thing and took her to the ER, where ~~we did ridiculous amounts of waiting~~ they ultrasounded the bejeezus out of her and the very lovely tech complimented each of her very clear and compliant internal organs.

All is well, and now she has a lovely photo (although it saddened her that I disapproved of the idea of her lifting up her shirt to show her friends her battle scar, like Madeline - even the "Ok, then I'll only do it on the playground" version) to share with her friends... which will probably get top billing in the fourth grade requisite What I Did This Summer journal entry over her month-long theater camp, week long trip to Vermont, and triumph over all things "I can't really swim".

Here's to a new year - you never know what drama lurks around the corner! ;)

The Winds of Change - To Mine Own Self Being True :)

2011-08-25T08:44:00.000-07:00

Hehe that reminds me of that Scorpions song. Remember?

Well, some of you will... probably not the new first grade teacher just hired for a maternity leave across the hall from me - yeah, that guy, who is so fresh and ready to teach and so BORN IN 1987. Lol... I turned 36 this summer and I'm not feeling old, but I am definitely noticing that the rest of the world is getting younger.

So... hi. :) It feels a little awkward coming back after a 4 month absence, and I have to say first that I am ~~really really surprised~~ very grateful that my Bloggy Miyagis (followers) have not left me in droves. Ok, so a bunch of you probably didn't notice and it was probably just too much work for some of you to stop following me or maybe you just didn't know how but regardless THANK YOU for sticking around, it totally makes me smile.

graphic credit

So since I started blogging a few years ago, I realized that I both write and blog in definite cycles - when the last marking period of school gets super busy, I seem to go on hiatus, and then stay there through the summer while I am home with my girls. It's not exactly ideal for cultivating a "following", though I'm not really the type to ask anyone to drink the Kool-Aid anyway. (I'm a loner, Dottie. A rebel.)

What I have found with this writing blog is that I've tried to be a productive and helpful part of the writing community, and as much as I want to be that, there are times when it begins to feel burdensome, like a bigger responsibility than I can take on with work and family, especially since I am still a novice writer. I also have a family blog where I try to update (mainly the nanas) the extended family on the kids' doings. I used to also have a teaching blog where I shared stories, but I stopped that in '08 because although I never used anything identifying about myself or the kids, and tried to keep the stories funny and not vent-y, I always had a nagging worry that I could be putting my teaching job in jeopardy. What it boils down to is TOO MUCH BLOG, NOT ENOUGH TIME. Or energy. :)

graphic credit

So the change comes here - Le Dange will no longer be just a writing blog, it will become part family blog, part mommy blog, part teacher blog, part writing blog, part whateverisonmymind blog... sort of everything that is me. I don't know why I was putting crazy expectations on myself to wow anyone with constant thoughtful posts on writing, because truthfully, as much as I love it, writing encompasses a small fraction of my day.... and many days not even that. Am I giving up? No way... I have a brand new story idea TODAY as a matter of fact, and fall is usually when I get back in the writing swing along with school and everything else routine.

So anyway... if you have stuck with me this far, thanks for sticking. :) I'll be back more regularly, posting who knows what, and you know what? I kinda like it that way. Hope you come back.

I Was Playing Dead. Did I Fool Ya?

2011-04-24T19:30:00.000-07:00

Ooh, it's been a looong time since I posted. :) That was sickness, report cards, and writer's block, for the most part. I got really frustrated with the WiP I'd been working on for over a year and needed a break, so I plotted out another one. I was/am excited about it, but it's dark... and between that and the also rather serious first WiP... I was kinda losing the fun of writing. And you know how when your writing is meh, you run out of stuff to blog about? Yeah. It was all starting to feel like a job, and my full time job is pretty jobby enough. ;) So I knew I needed a break.

In the meantime, we've gotten well, stuff is getting done, and another new idea crept its way in... a MG. MG! Zero trouble with the beginning, which is usually the part I a-g-o-n-i-z-e over. It's FUN! And I'm having fun writing it and sharing it with my 8 yr old. It's still but a babe as far as books go, but it definitely is bringing back some of the joy I needed to recover in writing.

So... not sure how much I'll be blogging in the next few weeks, but my hiatus won't be forever. Just one of those rebalancing, need time for other things times. Hopefully I'll be back bopping around all of your blogs soon! I miss reading you! :D

Midweek Madness

2011-04-06T20:57:00.000-07:00

Hello! What's shakin' in your world this week? I am knee deep in report cards and completely entranced by The Book Thief, which I just started yesterday (yeah, I'm a little late to that party but it's definitely worth the wait).

Without further ado, a few quick somethings for your hump day enjoyment. Happy Wednesday!

Unreality's Gallery of Pictogram Movie Posters

My writing lately (photo credit)

photo

Christina Perri - Jar of Hearts - Love. This. Song. Amazing video. :)

Sand Art - Russian Love : If you have never seen this beautiful, amazing, heartbreaking story told completely with music and sand... go. Watch. Immediately. Trust me, it's worth the 8 1/2 minutes. (Not for kids).

Hunger Games Casting News

2011-04-05T18:43:00.000-07:00

So we already knew that Jennifer Lawrence from Winter's Bone will be playing Katniss in the upcoming Hunger Games move.

The actors playing Gale and Peeta have been announced, too. Liam Hemsworth (The Last Song) as Gale:

Josh Hutcherson (The Kids Are All Right) as Peeta:

Interesting they went for the blonder guy as Gale and the dark haired guy as Peeta. Not that they can't make them look like whatever they want - obviously Katniss isn't blonde. :) I haven't seen any of their recent movies listed above so I don't really have an opinion, I'm just excited that it's moving forward. :)

Thoughts? Team Gale or Team Peeta?

Midweek Madness

2011-03-30T20:30:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm just at the very beginning stages of getting my new WiP off the ground, so I don't have much to say there just yet. So I'm thinking about making Midweek Madness a totally random feature here at Le Dange, where I just post something fun and probably not writing related. Yeah, if I can stick to it. Since I have no particular blogging schedule or anything. :) (That's right - you are at my mercy! Oh wait, actually no. I can't really make you come here...)

Here's a Hump Day giggle. Enjoy!

Ooh... this new template shows video way better than my old one!

Dark Playlist Suggestions?

2011-03-28T17:30:00.000-07:00

I'm starting a new WiP. It's dark. And I'm interested in your suggestions for dark, sort of intense music for a playlist (whiny emo is not invited, lol).

The WiP I've been working on has me somewhat flummoxed. As in... it is plotted and I have rewritten the beginning 85 times. Ok, not 85, but it feels like 85. And ya know what? I need a break. I've been tinkering with this one since January 2010 and as much as I feel like there is a really good story there, I don't know. Something just isn't working. Part of me knows that I don't have enough time to devote to any WiP and that's probably a big part of my problem. Time is a big struggle for me - I work full time and also bring work home, I have a preschooler and an 8 yr old that I want to spend time with, and a hubby I'm pretty fond of. :) Lately we've been hit with illnesses and major amounts of play rehearsals. Next up is report cards. It never really ends. :)

But I'm not really here to complain about time - time is a struggle we all have. I guess I'm getting tired of struggling with the same story for over a year. So I'm trying something new. And my new story has a darker voice. Which is where YOUR music suggestions come in!

If interested in photo credit, please contact me - I Googled my story topic and found this
pic but the site is kind of gory for general consumption.

What do you listen to when you are in a dark, intense mood? Or to put you there for your writing?

A New Look

2011-03-17T19:58:00.000-07:00

Wait! Don't go! I know, I know... the new look of my blog is unfamiliar and you want to shield your eyes. You're wondering, Where's the coffee cup? Where are the wooden floorboards? FOR GOD'S SAKE, WOMAN, WHERE ARE THE STRIPED SOCKS?

I decided to sweep the Wicked Witch look out and find something more cheerful to freshen things up a little bit. Entice myself to keep coming back. Oh, and you, too. :) Besides, what's more Dangerous than something that looks so innocuous, right?

I'm a teensy bit impulsive sometimes when I want to change my look - I'm the girl who hands her hubby a pair of scissors and says, "Please chop my hair." And when he gives me that Not again, would you PLEASE just go to the hairdresser staredown, it's not that I'm cheap. Well, maybe. But every time that happens, it's like 11pm and no respectable hairdresser is open and I can't wait until tomorrow, I need you to cut 8 inches off my hair this minute. And mostly he obliges. Because he is super sweet. And because my hair is straight and you can't mess it up that badly, and if you do, I'll just shrug and say, Whatev, cut some more to even it out. It's only hair. It'll grow back. I totally don't get mad. Ask him.

In fact, I am currently looking for a new pic to post over thar at the top, because that one that's up there is rolling her eyes at me in a very Mean Girls kinda way, since I have had short (like SHORT short) hair since last summer. LAST summer, friends. Time to update the pic already. Hush. I'm usually the family photographer, which leaves a very small and weak selection of pictures of myself to choose from. (By the way, Handsome Hubs says he prefers the longer hair, but I think really he is happy as a clam that now I actually DO go to the hairdresser since I'm not sure I want him buzzing my hairline). So... pic on the way. Pinky swear. In the meantime, enjoy the new view!

Edited: New pic added. I took this pic today. Doesn't get more current than that. :)
BONUS: Added a pic of Handsome Hubby, too. Cause I like to look at him.

Lindsey Learns... About Readability Statistics

2011-03-14T21:00:00.000-07:00

So... usually Lindsey Learns, which I have been lax of late in even writing (oops), focuses on something I'm learning as I read. This time I'm not featuring a book, though, just a nifty little feature in MS Word that I didn't know existed until now. I'm not sure how useful or helpful it actually is, but it's interesting.

Put very simply, Word can sort of generally maybe figure out what reading level your writing is geared toward. After it checks your document, it displays info about its readability, like so:

(That is from a short passage of my WiP) 18.2 words per sentence, really? Interesting. Also interesting that the Grade Level it decided is 7.8. Now, keep in mind, it's not scanning content here, it's looking at the average number of syllables per word and words per sentence. So I'm not really sure how useful is in actually predicting what someone else would level your book grade-wise, but interesting nonetheless. I'll have to try it again as my WiP grows in length.

Here's how you do it:

1. On the Tools menu, click Options, and then click the Spelling & Grammar tab.

2. Select the Check grammar with spelling check box.

3. Select the Show readability statistics check box, and then click OK.

4. On the Standard toolbar, click Spelling and Grammar .

5. When Microsoft Word finishes checking spelling and grammar, it displays information about the reading level of the document.

(I got that right from the Help section in MS Word)

Newer versions may need this from the actual Microsoft.com:

1.Click the Microsoft Office Button, and then click Word Options.

2.Click Proofing.

3.Make sure Check grammar with spelling is selected.

4.Under When correcting grammar in Word, select the Show readability statistics check box.

One thing to note: I kept trying it and wondering where the actual display was because I couldn't find it. Turns out, you have to complete the spelling/grammar check (so follow the steps above to change the settings and then actually run the check - click through the "replaces" and "ignores" as you would if you were checking for real) and it shows up when the check is complete. So I'm not sure how often I'd do this... but it's interesting. One more Word feature discovered! Sometimes I feel like Word is a game full of Easter eggs, KWIM?

Here We Go, Let's Rock and Roll!

2011-03-13T11:45:00.000-07:00

My fabulina Crit Partner Rebecca and I have challenged each other to a duel.

********************************************
Me: You rewrite your WiP beginning and I'll rewrite mine.

Rebecca: That is a terrible idea.

Me: Come onnnn....

(Insert her grad class that I paid to give her wonderful advice, thereby coming to her own decision to rewrite. Because I am evil.)

Rebecca: If I dislocate my thumb, I can't type that much.

Me: I'll see your dislocated thumb and raise you a kid with four teeth pulled out. Hey, why are you blogging with a dislocated thumb?

Rebecca: Because you asked me what was wrong... Heyyyyyy.... Wait. Exactly how does having a kid with missing teeth stop you from writing?

Me: You think too much.

Rebecca: That's what makes me a good writer.

Me: Touche`. Good luck with your rewrite.

Rebecca: You too.

***********************************************
Ok. I made that whole thing up. Well, actually I didn't make up any of the facts - we are both rewriting our beginnings, she dislocated her thumb, and TR got her teeth yanked out. I didn't actually pay her grad class, but they did crit her beginning. Cuz she is brave and let them. But this conversation never actually happened. So let's hope she doesn't sue me or anything while I am off beginning my rewrite. :)

Not MIA

2011-03-11T19:56:00.000-08:00

I haven't posted in about two weeks because it's just been busy around here. Work is busy, and both Handsome Hubs and Tootsie Roll are crazy busy with their respective plays, both of which open in the next few weeks. And Tootsie Roll just got 4 teeth pulled out. And I've been a mad crazy person preparing for Technology Week at school. So... it's just one of those incredibly busy cycles we all go through and I've gotten no blogging or writing done. But at least we are all well and happy, if a bit stressed.

I had a post planned for... whenever I had time to write it, but now that I'm sitting down, exhaustion is setting in and I'm not finding the pictures I want to post with it. So it will come, but not tonight. It was a post about stopping to smell the roses when you're really busy, and being grateful for the everyday things around you, and I think the tragedy in Japan magnified that by infinity, so sadly. I read snippets of news online when I could today, but only when my first graders were out of the room, so I was getting choppy info. Think I'll take some time now to read or watch the news. The pictures are heartbreaking.

Who Keeps Letting Her Near the Coffee?

2011-02-26T18:46:00.000-08:00

Macbook = good.

Coffee = good.

Macbook + coffee = not so good.

Oh, yes. Yes, I did. And from here on out, I shall let the Ghost of Coffee Spills Past take over this post.

BIG, MEGA-DRAMATIC SIGH. Seriously, folks, WHO keeps letting Lindsey near the coffee? Haven't you learned? Remember this incredibly embarrassing scene from 1999:

The scene: Lindsey, sitting at the end of a row in a high school auditorium crowded full of probably close to 1,000 teachers. It is the first day of her brand new teaching job in a brand new state. It's an inservice day, and the mayor is speaking to the gathering of the entire school district teaching staff. The auditorium is all clean, thanks to the very hard work of the summer custodial staff. Lindsey sits relatively near the back of the auditorium with several other staff members from her school that she has just met. Wait... what is that? That ribbon of brown liquid running down the center aisle of the beautifully cleaned carpet? As the mayor speaks? To several hundred of her new colleagues? Yes, friends, that's Lindsey's coffee. And those are people pointing and whispering as it makes its way down, down, down the slanted auditorium floor. And yes, that's Lindsey, sneaking out of the room with all eyes on her, headed to the office in the middle of a speech by the superintendent, to ask them to page a custodian... someone who probably spent hours the week before shampooing that very carpet. And yes, 12 years later, when the entire school district convenes at one of their high schools on the first day every year for this same meeting, Lindsey is silently mortified.

Oh, and how about the time the trainers from Columbia University's Reading and Writing Project were hosting a summer course for teachers in her district and Lindsey spilled coffee all over her desk and all of her papers? Remember that one?

Let's not forget the fact that Lindsey's own Handsome Hubby has joked on multiple occasions that you could brew a pot of coffee just by boiling Lindsey's car mats? (Wait a second! That one is totally not my fault - my car cupholders are an inch deep! They don't hold ANYTHING! If I let go of my travel mug for a second, it's a goner!)

Yes, that's probably why one time your travel mug fell right over into your teaching bag, upside down, soaking not only your lesson plan book but also a stack of kids' papers you had just marked.

Oh, that was years ago, get over it.

I can't, I'm the Ghost of Coffee Spills Past. It's kind of my thing.

Fine. Then get to the point.

The point is, this one is your piece de resistance, spilling coffee on your Macbook. Your WORK Macbook. Given to you by THE WORK THAT PAYS THE BILLS. Paid for by work. Intended for work use. Not really yours. You don't own it. That Macbook.

Ok, but it still boots up... so... how bad can it be?

You might know that if your "b" key made "b"s still. Or your "n" key didn't go "nbbbbbbbbbbbb". Or your "h" key didn't make an apostrophe instead of an h. Or your backslash didn't turn down the volume.

That last one only happened once.

Yes, but, Lindsey... you don't know if anything else is not working, because without THOSE keys working, you can't login.

I can't help that my work makes me use a 15-stroke password with letters and numbers and capitals.

Nice try. You can't even type your name.

Ok. True.

What do you have to say for yourself?

Um... I'm a bad, bad person. And I hope they can fix it.

And?

And I'm glad it wasn't the machine my WiP is on?

That's what I thought.

photo by ReneS

Don't Let Mom Drive the Car!

2011-02-23T17:43:00.000-08:00

I have crashed cars. (Yes, multiple... but let's stick to the topic here). And when you crash them, they don't really.... um... go. anywhere. anymore.

This is kinda what writer's block feels like. Like something is broken and the story won't go anymore. It has happened to every writer, and it has been the bane of my writing existence this month. After I got some feedback from my lovely CP, I had some good ideas about making a change to the beginning and cutting a few things that could wait to be explained later in the story. So, with all this in mind, I wrote the next scene.

A short scene. Like... a few pages. And then. The car. Crashed.

And there I was, in the passenger seat, saying, "Wait a minute! This was supposed to work better!"

And right off the bat, I knew what was wrong - my MC's mother did something that derailed her character completely. I know, I have blindly followed the crazy things characters do, yelled at them, frowned upon them, cursed at them for laughing at me behind my back when I named them the wrong thing... and later realized that they were right. However, this time, I think Mama was just desperate for a little more screen time or something, and she Thelma & Louise'd the story right into the ground just by reacting a certain way in a scene with the MC. Because it totally threw everything off.

And then I got bummed. Because my fix didn't fix, it made things worse. And everything I tried to add after that sucked. So I complained and ate chocolate and went back on Facebook after my 4 month hiatus (which has now re-begun) and fretted and wondered what to do. This went on for about a woeful week.

And then, today, as I was driving home from work, it occured to me how to rewrite the scene to make it work. So I will be doing that shortly, and hopefully it will send my WiP to the repair shop. And Mama will be getting a very stern talking to (and perhaps a forceable license removal). :)

Love to Wisconsin

2011-02-21T16:21:00.000-08:00

I don't like to soapbox here; it's not really the place. But I can't sit by without sending love and support to Erica and Christy and fellow teachers in Wisconsin.

It's time for politicians to stop demonizing teachers.

Enough already.

The Words, The Words, The Music in Words

2011-02-20T12:10:00.000-08:00

"He arranged his dignity around him with a few carefully placed licks." (a cat)

"His face was grooved like a winter road."

"He tipped his chin up and smiled at one and all, chattering like a baby bird - but he listened like an empty well."

"He moved like a jumping jack that was strung too loosely, so that he seemed about to turn a flip or clatter into a pile of bones and string."

"The white coat bleached him further, made him look like a painting that had half washed away."

I am reading Plain Kate by Erin Bow, and enjoying her turns of phrase as much as the story itself. Her words conjure up very clear images, and the book reads like you're listening to an old storyteller.

And in the little bit of writing time I've had today, I've worked out some story and gotten words on the page, but there is no music to them. Sometimes music and story come together. Sometimes... I'm thankful for revision. :)

I Could Get Used to This...

2011-02-18T09:32:00.000-08:00

Today, a rare and miraculous thing is happening... shh, don't talk too loudly or you might wake me out of this dream... I have the day off. Home. Alone. All to myself.

My school has a nice, long President's Day weekend (today and Monday off) but Hubby and Children's schools do not. Eeeeeevery now and then there is an advantage to following three different school district schedules. Sometimes. Ok, rarely, so I have to celebrate it, lol. We are all off on Monday and then on Tuesday when the rest of us go back to work, Tootsie Roll has a random inservice day. (That's more like how things usually work out.)

So after I spent the morning dropping kids off, futzing around, coffeeing up, texting Handsome Hubby to try to make him laugh during his inservice today... I sat here. And began. To write.

And OH MY GOODNESS! I have been doing a lot of thinking since my CP's very helpful comments and have needed to cut and rework some things, so today I got to actually sit quietly and work on it. And a problem that I have had with the beginning being too expositiony and not enough "let's get to the interesting stuff"y is beginning to work itself out.

Is this what being a writer is like? Not having to steal an hour after kiddies are in bed to jot down a few paragraphs? Cause, seriously, sign me up!

p.s. - Yeah, I know. It's not that simple. And life is always busy, even if you are home alone during the day. But it's me who's dreaming here, so let's pretend, shall we? Cause I am loving this day!

First Dates, Red Velvet Cupcakes, and No Love for Blogger

2011-02-14T17:48:00.000-08:00

Handsome Hubby and I were sophomores in college when we had our first date - a concert with a bunch of friends and back to the dorm to watch Rock Horror Picture Show. Romantic, huh? Hehe... well.. it wasn't really even meant to be a date, just a fun time with friends. Funny how things work out. :) That was on February 11, 1995. 16 years ago. We were 20. :) To this day, we celebrate First Date Day on Feb. 11 instead of Valentine's Day. :) This year, on First Date Day, I sent HH some of these at work:

Shari's Berries - http://www.berries.com/

And guess what he put under my pillow?

Oh yes he did. An entire box of 18 King Size Hershey's Special Dark chocolate bars. I laughed so hard I cried. Seriously. :) I will have chocolate until the end of tiiiiiiime! :D Now that's love.

Speaking of love, over the weekend, Brad Jaeger posted the following fantastic recipe for red velvet cupcakes, which I am stealing from him to post here (which he stole from http://www.allrecipes.com/). I made these with my girls yesterday and OH. MY. GOODNESS.

Ingredients

2 1/2 cups flour
1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup butter, softened
2 cups sugar
4 eggs
1 cup sour cream
1/2 cup milk
1 oz red food coloring
2 teaspoons vanilla extract

Vanilla Cream Cheese Frosting

1 (8 ounce) package cream cheese, softened
1/4 cup butter, softened
2 tablespoons sour cream
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 (16 ounce) box confectioners' sugar

Directions

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Mix flour, cocoa powder, baking soda and salt in medium bowl. Set aside.

2. Beat butter and sugar in large bowl with electric mixer on medium speed 5 minutes or until light and fluffy. Beat in eggs, one at a time. Mix in sour cream, milk, food color and vanilla. Gradually beat in flour mixture on low speed until just blended. Do not overbeat. Spoon batter into 30 paper-lined muffin cups, filling each cup 2/3 full.

3. Bake 20 to 25 minutes or until toothpick inserted into cupcake comes out clean. Cool in pans on wire rack 5 minutes. Remove from pans; cool completely. Frost with vanilla cream cheese frosting.

Frosting Directions

1. Beat cream cheese, softened, butter, sour cream and vanilla extract in large bowl until light and fluffy. Gradually beat in confectioners' sugar until smooth.

HEAVENLY HOMEMADE GOODNESS!

I wasn't sure how my kids would like cream cheese frosting but there was love in abundance. Now guess what? I wanted to show you a picture of such red tastiness. But I can't. Because Blogger says that my picture album is full and that I am welcome to purchase more picture space. You should see the teacher look I am giving Blogger right now at this lack of cooperative attitude. Yes, Blogger, I know that other blog, the one I use to keep my family updated, is a little picture heavy. I can't help it. My girls are cute. Sue me. But apparently I need to get on some deleteage or I will never be able to share pictures with you again! (Cause, um, I'm not buying picture space, Blogger. Get over yourself. No? Get over myself and delete some pictures? Grumble...)

Lemme Tell You About My First Time

2011-02-12T18:07:00.000-08:00

I've mentioned my new CP a few times here at Le Dange, cause I'm still kinda giddy at the whole thing. So guess what? We survived our first critique. WOOOOHOOOOO!

A few months back, Rebecca kinda mentioned in an email that maybe we'd make good CP's down the road when we both had something ready and I was all happy cause, actually, I'd been thinking the same thing. We haven't met but we've become bloggy friends and I think we have a similar sense of humor and that probably counts for a whole heckuva lot in CPville, because, really... you are going to be both dishing it out and taking it, and you have to do both of those with a little bit of nervous laughter and all. So I haven't even told her this but I was thinking the same thing and hadn't asked because I didn't have anything ready yet and I thought she might be all set and be like, "OMG... you total lame-o. If you're going to ask you should at least have something to critique." Except she wouldn't have said it like that. Cuz if we had to be Good and Evil for Halloween, she'd be Good.

So we decided to set ourselves a deadline to get pages to each other by the end of January. That was tricky since it was right around report card time for me, but lemme tell ya, it kicked my writing into gear. I rewrote the beginning of my WiP for the fourth time (ha) and then actually went on. Ok, only a little bit. But it was more than before. By the end of January, she sent me the beginning of her NaNo rewrite and within a week, mine was on its way to her and hers was on its way back. (Some people wait until their novels are done to look for CPs or ask for readers. We're jumping on the train right from the first stop. I'm only done my beginning with the rest plotted out. She's done the beginning of her rewrite. So that's what we traded.)

Let me tell you something about critiquing someone for the first time. It's not easy. I've never been a CP before. Sure, I have my opinions about any writing that I read, but I've never really commented about it to the author before, which , um, is a whole other ball of wax. She said she wanted me to be nitpicky and brutal if necessary, and so I read really carefully, made a lot of comments and suggestions, told her what I loved, what sounded awkward, etc. And sent it off. And waited. One thing that I can say is that I found it helpful that we write very differently. While both of our stories are YA, the genre, tone, and even POV are completely different. So I felt like I could put mine aside and give hers my full attention. With my red. Comment. Bubbles. (Why do you have to make them red, Bill Gates? Why?)

I wasn't sure how she would take it. And when she wrote back, it was much like I thought, it STUNG. But it got her thinking. And whether or not her revisions use my thoughts, I was honest and tried to be helpful and balance criticism with positives, of which there are bunches. Cause her story is mad witty and fun.

This morning, I got my first pages back from her. And my reaction was exactly the same. At first... OUCH. Seeing all that red in your document hurts a little (ok, for a second, a lot). But, especially knowing what I had sent to her, I expected it, and it's what I wanted - very honest and specific feedback, good and bad.

Truthfully, the sting didn't last long. I think I was pretty well prepared by her reaction when I sent hers back. And I thought about all the blog posts you read about CP's and how you shouldn't get mad or defend your work... honestly, I never felt angry at her, nor did I feel like she didn't understand my story, nor did I feel like I had to defend or explain anything. Her comments were good, specific, and fair. When a sentence didn't work, she said so. My propensity for comma misuse (abuse) was called out. And, interestingly enough, the sentences she labeled as awkward sort of rang vague bells in my head from when I was writing a few of them... maybe that wasn't the best or clearest way to put that... oh I'll let it slide, it's fine.

How do I feel now that the first one is behind us? Excited to get back to work. Ready to improve. Grateful for a CP that I can trust to be both supportive and honest because in the end, that's what we all need. We're just at the start of this CP journey, but I'm so glad for that first step. I heart my new CP!

*Aaaaaaaand..... end gush.* :)

Little Guy, Big Voice

2011-02-07T17:53:00.000-08:00

The majority of my first graders do not speak English at home - their home languages in my class include Chinese, Korean, several Indian dialects, Spanish, and Russian. Several of them speak English very well and others are in various stages of learning. My school is in a very multicultural town and that's how we roll.

It's amazing, really, how well our kiddies write. We use Columbia University Teacher's College Reading and Writing Program, created by Lucy Calkins. Our Writing Workshop focuses on learning a variety of writing genres, craft, and using voice in writing.

My class is about to publish How-to stories. After several lessons on craft and revision, one of my little boys, who spoke no English in September (he spoke only Chinese), wrote one of the cutest stories I have read: How to Build a Lego Racecar (words by B, spelling corrected by me for posting purposes, lol)

"Do you know what to do on a rainy day? I know! Build a Lego racecar! I'll show you how in this book. Ready? Let's get started!"

"Materials List: Lego windows, wheels, wings, doors"

"Step 1 - First, find the Lego windows. Be sure not to let your little sister play with them because they are small and she will eat them."

"Step 2 - Next, find the Lego wheels. You better have four because your car won't work."

"Step 3 - Then, find the wings. I'm not sure why the car set has wings but if it was in there you better use it."

"Step 4 - Finally, put the doors on. If you don't, your Lego driver will fall out and break his leg."

"Now that you have built a Lego racecar, come to my house and race with me!"

Voice! From a first grader! Who spoke his first words of English 5 months ago! I am SO proud of him. :)
And I think his story is as cute as a baby hedgehog. :)

Kindle Contest and Crit Coolness

2011-02-04T21:46:00.000-08:00

Two things since I am too tired to be alive right now:

1. Reggie at The Undercover Book Lover , Lisa at A Life Bound By Books , Aly at Kid Lit Frenzy , and Mavie at The Bookologist are giving away a Kindle!!! US only, contest ends March 4. Whoa baby!

2. Report cards are done, I sent my very first pages ever off to my new CP, and I just sent her back her very first pages. Scary stuff but I'm very excited about it and it is definitely getting my butt in gear to get more serious writing done. I loved reading Rebecca's work and our stories are so different (different genre, different tense, different POV) that it is very refreshing to take breaks from mine to read hers. I've never really had someone besides family and friends read for me (and not even much of that), so this is a big step in the right direction.

Ok, now I think I am sleeptyping. Off to bed. Go win a Kindle! ;)

Oh the Things You Can Think!

2011-02-01T18:02:00.000-08:00

Ok. I didn't think of it. Come to think of it, neither did you. Or maybe you did and I just totally dissed you. In that case, oops. Sar. But someone did...

Why, YES... it IS a USB typewriter!

In fact, USBTypewriter is its trademarked name and you can find out all about it here. Take 11 seconds of your life to check out the demo:

Neat, huh? :) Ok, yes, I am trying to distract you from the fact that this week I am too busy to post for real because of report cards and trying to get pages ready for my VERY FIRST CP (aaaah! And I heart you, Rebecca of the 16 pages!) and reading the super fun beginning of her awesome NaNo rewrite.

Wait... I would have posted this anyway cause it is full of awesome! :)

One Love-ly Little Lady

2011-01-29T18:16:00.000-08:00

My Tootsie Roll may still be little (she's 8), but she has a huge heart. She is known for making donations to those in need, including most of her Easter goodies every year to a local shelter, completely her own idea. When she was in kindergarten, a classmate of hers was diagnosed with a rare form of leukemia. He returned to school when the kids were in first grade and most of the boys in the class shaved their heads in support of his return. T-Roll chopped about a foot off her hair back then and donated it to Locks of Love, where it was used to make a wig for someone who has lost his/her hair due to illness. Now, two years later, her friend is (thankfully!) in remission and Tootsie decided it was time to donate her hair again. I'm so proud of her giving nature.

T-Roll and Daddy sport their new haircuts

She loves her grown-up new 'do!

Mugged! Erica & Christy's Blogfest

2011-01-27T06:32:00.000-08:00

It's time for Erica and Christy's Simply Hot Mug Shots blogfest! The Teacher Mommy Writer Bloggers invited everyone to share their favorite mugs, something a writer cannot live without! This was the perfect blogfest for today here in New Jersey, cause... um..

Me + snowbank that is taller than me when I am standing - I give up! :)
For the record, those ARE gray pajama pants with silver hearts. Jealous?

Handsome Hubby fighting his way through the mad snow beast

So yeah. Some AAAAHHHHHHHHH in a mug is a pretty awesome thing.

Mug with quote from Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.
I got this one for Christmas from a good friend who knows I am an Alice ~~obsessor~~ fan.

You can probably guess that as an elementary school teacher, I have a mug collection to end all mug collections. Which is actually a good thing, seeing as coffee and I are pretty much attached at the hip. (Last month, in a completely inhumane effort to save energy costs, we were told to get rid of all coffeepots, microwaves, etc. in our classrooms. Ok, it was also for safety reasons. Ok, I also totally get it and really don't mind walking down the hall to use the Keurig in the faculty room, except that I can't break free from my room until 12:10 every day when my kiddies go to lunch.) I have teacher mugs galore and I have adorable mugs with my kiddies' pictures on them (and even one with a collage of pictures of my dog), but in honor of my mostest favoritest book in the entire world, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, and it being Lewis Carroll's birthday this week, I give you... my Alice mugs!

Cheshy... he used to appear when you poured hot things in the mug and disappear leaving only his grin behind when the mug was empty, but alas, he grows old and weary and is just sort of half-there all the time now.

And my all-time favorite...

"I'm Queen and you're not."

No, my mugs are not floating on air, they are sitting happily on my very weird glass table that came with my house. That middle green part has tiles of fruit around it and is filled at the top with black beans. I blogged about that weird table at the end of this here post, complete with pictures.

Happy blogfesting! Stay warm! :)

A Bad Surprise and a Good One

2011-01-25T11:46:00.000-08:00

Guess what woke me up at 4 this morning? A bad surprise of the stomach variety. (Guess who called at 2:30? Tootsie Roll's school nurse with similar surprise).

Guess what arrived in the mail today? An ARC of Matched by Ally Condie that I won from Mary Campbell at Writer's Butt Does Not Apply to Me!

Yay and woohoo! This has definitely made my day. Thank you, Mary!

Red Riding Hood Trailer

2011-01-21T18:41:00.000-08:00

Red Riding Hood Trailer 2
Uploaded by teasertrailer. - Check out other Film & TV videos.

What do you think of this trailer? I can't say I'm really excited to see this movie, which is sort of disappointing because you could do so much with a new Red Riding Hood. It's from the director of Twilight and I have to admit that I haven't seen the Twilight movies, but this trailer sort of reminds me of Twilight vs. The Village. I think it comes out in March.

Lindsey Learns... to Be Prepared

2011-01-20T18:11:00.000-08:00

This feature is based on whatever I am reading at the moment (so, yes, you are at the mercy of my readerly whims) and whatever I happen to learn as I am reading. My goal is to write about it and then open the subject up for discussion in the comments. Please come on along for the ride!

Tuesday was a bad day in first grade. It was because everyone was a little off from school being closed on Monday and then Tuesday we had a delayed opening due to snow and icy roads and I had a meeting as soon as I got to school and didn’t have time to finish making copies and get prepared for the day as I would on a normal day when I get there early.

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When you have taught the same grade for 13 years, you can certainly wing it for an afternoon – you know how to teach a concept backward, forward, inside, and out. You have lots of different teaching methods in your bag of tricks. If you don’t have copies, no worries, you can pull out another way to teach the same thing. But still, being unprepared makes me crabby, and in turn, threw my kiddies off. I felt like there was no foundation to our day, and I felt like I didn’t teach things well, and I felt as the day went on like it was unraveling like a sweater.

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A seasoned colleague of mine who is retiring this year has all of these wonderful, funny truisms about life in first grade, and one of her famous ones is "the fish rots from the head". She doesn't even know where the saying came from, but what it means is that if the class is having an 'off' day, it can be that they're taking their cues from you (the teacher). In other words, if you're not feeling well, if you're stressed out, if your mind is elsewhere, if you're pushing them too hard... chances are you will see it reflected back in the kids' behavior. On Wednesday, I didn't feel like I was prepared, and it threw me off, and in turn, my kids.

Immediately, when I stepped back to reflect on the day, I made the connection to my current writing situation. Recently, Elana Johnson sang the praises of the book Save the Cat! on her blog. It was within a post where she discussed how to start your book, and since I have my story idea all happily settled and the beginning has been a real bugger, I was all, HELLS YEAH and my fingers immediately did the walking and ordered the book. Like, pronto. Flames, on the sides of my fingers. I typed that fast.

"Flames... on the sides of my face..."

Save the Cat! is actually a book about screenwriting, but as Elana said, the advice it gives is just as effective for novel writing. It's a quick and easy read, to the point, makes things so clear, and on every page, it's like, YES, THAT MAKES PERFECT SENSE! Trust me. Go buy it. I'll wait.

Back? Ok. So Save the Cat! arrived at my doorstep pretty quickly (for those of you who have been following for awhile, no one stole the package from my front door! Bonus!) and I dove right in. I kinda had to, because Handsome Hubby is a TV Productions teacher and I think he is chomping at the bit to steal my new little gem. :)

Anyway... onward toward the point of this post, I promise... I have been gobbling up the book and in it, Blake Snyder wills us as writers to do some sensible planning before we dive into the writing. To have a clear logline in mind. To make our MC likeable, even if just a little, so the readers are willing to go on this journey with us, and to have the genre clearly focused in our minds because each genre has a set of beats that should be followed to make the story a success. He tells great tales of why movies flopped, generally because the moviemakers spent lots of money on effects rather than a few dollars on bettering the script.

So what did I learn from this? That the whole reason that I am having trouble with my beginning, even though I have a whole story in mind, and pieces of it written, is that there were small but immeasurably important steps I hadn't yet taken before flying into the writing itself. In essence, I jumped the gun.

Ok, this is more like running but... yeah.

So I stopped. And I thought. And I storyboarded. And I worked on a logline and a title that gave me a clearer vision of my own story (they are still works in progress, but I feel like I have a lot more direction). I know now how my MC will "save the cat", or perform an act at the beginning of the story that will sort of set her character in the readers' eyes. It makes sense, but I hadn't done it. I carefully read the 10 genres of screenplays he wrote about (it fits books also) and the necessary beats and focus of each one, and better identified the type of story I am writing. And it has made so much sense. I'm a complete Blake Snyder convert. (And I have a brand shiny new CP to show my story to once I spiff it up a bit! WOOT!)

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So let's chat. Are you a plotter and planner, or are you a gun-jumpin' pantser? What works for you? Have you read Save the Cat!? Did it help you like crazy like it is helping me? Let me know in the comments!

Oh and by the way... Wednesday was much better in school. So much so that I have a First Grade Funny to leave you with (yes, I know that's poor grammar, sue me): So when your girls are being noisy in the hallway bathroom and you go in and ask them all sternly what they are doing, and you find that they are playing Rosa Parks and they show you how each stall is a bus seat.... You just kinda have to laugh. :)

Rediscovering, Part 1

2011-01-16T18:24:00.000-08:00

When I was little, when my first real memories begin, at the early elementary age, we lived in a tiny little town in central Pennsylvania called Tyrone. It's near Altoona. Tyrone's big claims to fame were that it was the home of Gardner's Candies (creators of the peanut butter meltaway, yummmm)

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and the home of bandleader/musician/radio personality Fred Waring.

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There was a Fred Waring Day each year in Tyrone, though I don't for the life of me remember what anyone did to observe it. There was a paper factory that stunk up the town on occasion and I remember two parks, Soldiers Park which memorialized fallen soldiers from Tyrone, and Reservoir Park where the annual Easter Egg Hunt was held. I remember going to Soldiers Park on a school field trip.

When I was in third grade, we moved back to a suburb of Philadelphia (I was born in that area too). When you live there, your school field trips are all to Philly museums and historical sites. Which is a lucky thing, obviously. Except when you're a kid, you don't see it like that. Instead, you whine, because, well, you're a kid and you're good at whining.

"We're going to the Art Museum again?"

"We went to Betsy Ross' house in second grade."

"Yeah. It's the Liberty Bell. Seen it."

When you're young, you really don't appreciate the treasures around you, especially if they are relatively easily accessible. As I grew older, I didn't visit many of these places. When I could, I'd hit the Jersey shore or if I was really lucky, see a show in NYC. My little world was broadening and I didn't want to see the same old museums; I wanted to see what else there was to see out there.

Broadway - New York City

My Philly suburb was still pretty city-like, and I always wanted to live somewhere a little quieter, so I went to a teeny tiny college whose entire student body was about the size of my high school graduating class, and then Handsome Hubs and I ended up settling down in a small town (which I love love love). I laugh because TR's school field trips have been to the local museum of our town, local farms, the ice cream shop, the pizza parlor, and once a year they go somewhere bigger like the Philly Zoo or the Franklin Institute. But Philly is an hour away, so those trips are a big deal, not like when I was a kid. She loves to go. This past summer, when Tootsie Roll was about to turn eight, we took her to Washington, D.C. because she really wanted to see the landmarks she was learning about in school, in particular the Lincoln Memorial.

(I won't tell you about how Curly Jones scooted under that little chain there and ran up the steps, screaming in three year old glee.) We saw most of the major landmarks in D.C. and went to several of the Smithsonian museums. We hadn't planned on going into the Smithsonian Art Museum; however, because ~~I thought we might get thrown out~~ the three year old I mentioned above isn't exactly the most sedate, art-appreciative type just yet. But we went in by accident, thinking it was the Museum of Natural History (which we eventually found next door).

Anyway, where is this story going? When we went into the Art Museum by accident, Tootsie Roll was instantly entranced. Amazed. In awe. She pulled out a little notebook I had given her to keep her busy on the drive from NJ to D.C. and began taking notes.

(Did you know you can take pictures in art museums? You can! At least in D.C. and Philly). We couldn't stay as long as we would have liked since someone little was a bit less entranced, but it reminded me of all of the treasures I had at my fingertips growing up. So over Christmas break, we dropped CJ off at preschool one day and took TR to the Philadelphia Museum of Art, which is only about an hour away from where we live now in New Jersey.

It was amazing to rediscover a place I'd been so many times as a kid and probably never really appreciated the way she did on her first visit. Part 2 with pictures coming soon!

Me: These are famous steps. Rocky ran up these steps in the movie!

TR: Rocky who?

Lindsey Learns... About Mood

2011-01-12T12:29:00.000-08:00

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Mood. Tone. Is it set up at the beginning of your novel? Do we know where we stand pretty quickly? Do we need to? I just finished reading Carrie Ryan's The Forest of Hands and Teeth, and without spoiling anything, I can pretty easily say that the book's mood is helpless. The Unconsecrated (zombies, if you haven't read it yet) are kept out of the town by fences. Those same fences keep all the people in. And there is constant worry that eventually the Unconsecrated will breach the fences. It's only a matter of time. Helpless.

This doesn't mean that the main character, Mary, is helpless. Her own moods and hopes rise and fall with the conflicts that she faces personally throughout the story. Sometimes her life is focused on other things, and as readers, we are vaguely reminded of the constant moaning and rattling of the Unconsecrated at the fence. Sometimes she is in the middle of Very Dangerous Zombie Smackdown with Potential Death. (I was going to put a zombie pic here but... they are pretty nasty! And my 3 yr old is right here... lol)

My current WiP is getting a complete redo. I started it last January, abandoned it, and restarted it at the end of the year. I've re-outlined, reworked, and started the writing from scratch. I have a few major decisions to make before my writing can seriously continue, mood being one of them.

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I'm trying to decide right now what the overall mood of the writing should be. A big part of that is nailing down my MC's voice, because the lens through which she views events will obviously affect the mood of the story. What I liked a lot about the mood in Carrie Ryan's book is that you feel the blanket of depression surrounding Mary even when Mary herself is not feeling that way. It's the mood of the situation, of the general populace, of the setting. Her book starts long after the world becomes zombified.

My book is a little different, the people in the story discover the problem around the same time that my MC does and the situation goes from typical to bleak over time. Working on that mood shift is delicate - I have to make it realistic, not zero to panic mode in 60 seconds, and not so gradual that it's boring - while my own character's specific conflicts will work into, with, against that backdrop. Sometimes she will fall into the overall mood and other times she will fight against it.

(For the record, I am reading another book where in one sentence it talks in first person about the MC's "big, open, genuine smile" and then in the next sentence he slams something on the ground because he is so mad. Mood of me, the reader? Totally confused about mood of the MC and of the story in general!)

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The biggest struggle I have with mood is that I don't have big chunks of time in which to write (hence my 100 word a day goal) and it's hard to get enough into the mood myself with the time I have. I know a lot of you have soundtracks to write by, but as much as I love music, that's not really how I work. I'm hoping that the further I get into it, the more naturally I will slip into the mood.

So let's talk mood. What is the underlying mood of your WiP? Have you ever found a book that doesn't seem to have a consistent mood? A book where mood is like a character, the way setting can be? An author who sets mood extremely well?

Resolved

2011-01-05T18:07:00.000-08:00

My New Year's Resolution: 100 words a day

'Cause sometimes, that's how my life rolls. And on days when I can write more, awesome. This goal has been incredibly good for me in the first few days of the year. There have already been days where I couldn't begin to write anything before 11 pm, and need to be up at 6 all bright eyed and bushy tailed for another first grade day. But even after a loooong day, I can type 100 words before crashing. It's only a few sentences, really. The best news? Even on the nights where I've gotten a super late start, my 100 word minimum has turned into 300 or 400. Just giving myself the freedom to say - You know what? I can write something today. 100 words is ok. - has prompted me to write even on those days when I would normally not even think about getting into it at 11pm.

And a super extra added bonus? Rebecca T. of Sonshine Thoughts is joining me in my 100 words a day resolution, and she made this shiny happy button to put on our blogs and keep us going!

Rebecca is awesomable for several reasons, not the least of which being that she can totally quote the movie Clue and didn't think I was a complete crazy person when I sent her a Goth NaNo Cheerleader Barbie. (Shut up, yes I did). Anyway, she and I would like to welcome anyone who would like to make your own 100 Words a Day in 2011 resolution to feel free to post the button on your blog as well.

And now, as the night is young at 9:06 and I only have about half an hour of spelling assessment scoring to do... I may get to do some research and write tonight! Woooohooooo!

Lindsey Learns... Not to Be Repetitive

2011-01-03T18:18:00.000-08:00

See Lindsey learn. Learn, Lindsey, learn!

Welcome to my new weekly feature, Lindsey Learns! New year, time for a change. I started this blog a year ago, in January 2010. Thus far, I haven't had any regular blog features but now, along with my resolution to write 100 words (or more) a day (which so far has turned into multiple hundreds daily, yay!), I've decided to try to focus more on specific areas of writing in at least one post a week.

We all read. A lot. And we can't help but to read as writers. We read and marvel at word choice or characterization or plot twists, or we read and wrinkle our noses (admit it, you do too) at things that make us wonder how on earth this book got published.

This feature is based on whatever I am reading at the moment (so, yes, you are at the mercy of my readerly whims) and whatever I happen to learn as I am reading. My goal is to write about it and then open the subject up for discussion in the comments. Please come on along for the ride!

For the record, I will use book titles in any post discussing something positive in my reading. Whereas it is not my goal to ever bash a book or a writer, if I am writing about something that bugs me in a book, I will not use titles or author names. Let the games begin!

Lindsey Learns... Not to Be Repetitive

Ha, so I just repeated my post title. Pretend you don't notice. Ok, so the idea for this new weekly blog feature came to me just before Christmas as I was trudging my way through a YA book that I really did not like. I plowed through it, but as I was reading, I kept thinking - wow, why did the author do that? Or why won't he explain what this made-up creature looks like, because I can't picture it in my head? And I got to thinking that I learn as much from "bad" books as I do good ones as I do books on the craft of writing. So why not put those thoughts into post form and begin some discussion. Are you with me?

The good news is that after Christmas, I read a very good quick book (Flipped, so darn cute, loved it) and began reading two other books that I am enjoying quite a bit more than that other crazy, confusing one. One is billed as a YA "postapocalyptic romance" (Book A) and the other is a paranormal YA (Book B). I am not using their titles here not because I dislike them - actually, they are both interesting and I am quite compelled to find out what will happen in both. However, strangely enough, they share a trait that is bugging the heck out of me - they are both very repetetive in language.

Book A's main character and all of the other major characters are constantly crumbling. That word is used to describe their despair over and over, they are constantly falling to their knees. There are always tears crowding their eyes or tears burning eyes or tears springing to eyes and eyes meeting. The main character is quite often struck with some knowledge, or struck with a new understanding, or struck with disbelief. And there is a lot of hand gripping. Much description of hands and what they are doing (and no, it's nothing naughty, stop that!). The MC is constantly struggling with urges. The story here is nicely original and is definitely engaging, but I find myself wondering at the same words being used over and over. I do realize that that can be a style choice, but it's really standing out to me.

Gripping, isn't it?

What's probably not helping is that the same thing is happening in Book B. Now, in this book, there is constant description of rain (it never stops raining!) and the MC's odd ailments. Now, these things, I understand - they create an atmosphere necessary to the story. No, I don't need to be told that it's still raining all the time, but I don't mind it, because the setting is like a character in this particular book. There is also a lot of repetition of character behavior, which I also understand. But then there is constant repetition of the MC experiencing smells so strong they get in his mouth, or smells so vivid he can taste them or smells that bring on his gag reflex. Oh, and he also has many a dull ache. Again - interesting and original book, and again I find the repetition of language odd (odd enough that I actually noticed it in both books and I'm only halfway through, so I flipped through each one and sure enough, several examples of those words popped right out.)

I'm sort of scratching my head here at why some of these words were not edited into synonyms or similar ideas. I mean, "dull aches" can be described in many ways, can't they? I mean, I can completely relate to the need to keep saying that the MC is aching, but why not change up the wording a bit? Or is this something that just bothers me? I'm finding that I enjoy both books, but this is the one nagging thing that is bugging me.

So let's discuss your thoughts on this, and also, are there certain words or phrases that you know you repeat in your own writing that you've had to edit? I'll be curious when I am much further into my WiP to check and see if I am doing the same thing!

Looking Back, Looking Forward (or Just Call Me Michael Finnegan)

2010-12-30T18:32:00.000-08:00

It's been so much fun around here this past week, just relaxing... making cookies, seeing family, opening presents, playing in the snow, celebrating our anniversary, going to the movies. (Out! To the movies! Without kids!). Christmastime is my favorite time of year, time to unplug and forget about work and just revel in love and life. It's also given me time to read (I finally finished a book I was trudging through and now I'm in the middle of three different books - yep, three! - that I'm really enjoying) and to contemplate my year in writing.

I started this blog last January, when I finally got serious about the idea of actually. writing. a book. For years, I've written many, many (x a whole lot of manys) book beginnings and plotted out some storylines, but never really got down to the serious work of writing an entire book (and everything after). Of course, a year ago, I really had no idea what "everything after" meant. I knew there would be a lot of editing. I didn't know how important crit partners would be, or how to research agents, or what on earth a query was.

This year, I started writing for real. And then I stopped. I had a lot of good intentions, I blogged a bunch, I discovered this wonderful web of writer bloggers, and I learned. And I learned how much I have still to learn. Which sounds scary, but is actually a good thing because it means I am starting to understand a few things about writing and I have a whole lot more direction than I ever had before.

Looking back, I can see when and where in the year I stopped writing, and the points where I stopped correlated very closely with times when the Real Job gets incredibly busy or the kids got sick. I also stopped when research for my book overwhelmed me and when I got distracted by a shiny new idea and started writing that instead. And I stopped when school ended and I needed a break and time with my kids.

I'm not beating myself up for not getting a lot of WiP writing done. I'm chalking this year up as a learning year and realizing that the best of intentions don't get the job done. I don't regret spending time with my kids and recharging my batteries over summer vacation, and I have a much better sense of what is realistic for me and my life at different times of the year.

This year, I discovered flash fiction and I wrote a good amount of that and fared pretty well in some contests. It was fun and exhilirating and confidence-boosting and wing-stretching. Definitely a wonderful outlet and a way to hone skills and practice some new things.

This year, I watched as a lot of fellow bloggers with more experience and understanding got agents and sold books, and my excitement for them and appreciation for their willingness to share their stories and their rejections and their rewrites and their marketing strategies and everything else so willingly with the rest of us has only made the whole dream seem more possible, if I can put the blood, sweat, and tears into it.

So in looking forward, I am setting only one goal, and that goal is to write 100 words a day. I know, you probably had to read that twice, and now you are wondering what on earth kind of goal is that and she will be lucky if she finishes a first draft in a couple of years at that rate. This is true, and if it takes that long, so be it, but I'm setting this goal for myself as a minimum. So that on those nights when I come home exhausted from a day of first grade, and handsome hubby is working, and I have to pick up both girls and get them dinner and drive them to dance class and entertain the little one while the big one is dancing and then get home and do baths and multitask playing with the little one while helping the big one with homework and then bedtimes and then finally just get started the school work that I brought home around 8 or 9... yeah. On those nights, when I finish my Real Job work around 10 and then finally get to say hello to my hubby... I will write 100 words. Hopefully on nights when I can carve out an hour or so, I'll write a decent amount more. :)

I guess really my goal this year is just not to stop working on my book for chunks of time like I did this year. Not get distracted by shiny new ideas, and keep plowing forward, even if it is in tiny bits. I have a much better sense going into this year about myself as a writer (I need silence), where my strengths lie (plotting), where I have some serious work to do (backstory). I am working on voice and whether my book will work better in first or third person. I have a stack of books about writing to read (I call them my own personal "self-help" books). And I am still learning, learning, learning about writing and the entire business.

I thought I was ready to take the plunge this past year, and instead I waded in a lot of different pools, which turned out to probably be exactly the learning experience I needed. So, 2011... let's try this again. Remember that old kids' song Michael Finnegan that keeps saying "begin again"? Yeah. That's me. :)

There was an old man named Michael Finnegan,
He had whiskers on his chinnegan,
Along came the wind and blew them in again,
Poor old Michael Finnegan. Begin again!

There was an old man named Michael Finnegan,
He kicked up an awful dinnegan,
Because they said he must not sing again,
Poor old Michael Finnegan. Begin again!

There was an old man named Michael Finnegan,
He went fishing with a pinnegan,
Caught a fish and dropped it in again,
Poor old Michael Finnegan. Begin again!

And with that, I am setting about restarting last January's WiP. Hopefully this time next year, I'll feel like I've taken the plunge. Wish me luck!

I will also be making some bloggy changes.... stay tuned!

Merry Christmas!

2010-12-24T19:38:00.000-08:00

Christmas sweets (peanut butter cup cookies and chocolate mint cookie sandwiches)

... and Christmas Sweets.

Merry Christmas from our home to yours!!!

FIRST PLACE WINNER!

2010-12-22T05:05:00.000-08:00

Thanks to everyone who entered the Truth is Stranger Than Fiction Contest that Vic (aspiring_x) and I hosted! See Monday & Tuesday's posts on both blogs for our third and second place winners.

Today, please join me in congratulating Naomi Ruth from Writing: A Soul's Way of Breathing, my FIRST PLACE WINNER! Here is her flash fic entry:

Broken Things

“Hurry!” I hissed. Rose gagged on a plant she had somehow almost swallowed (that girl is talented) and stumbled over to me. We both ducked under the sign that we wouldn’t read because then we could honestly say we hadn’t read the sign. It was a tactic my younger brother had taught me. I probably shouldn’t listen to my brother, since he falls off of roofs and swallows handfuls of gummy bears whole just for fun. But my brother wasn’t what I was thinking about. I was thinking about the old abandoned building I was sneaking into.

Rose and I stop inside and stare. We had both dreamed about this day. It was a building we had written stories about, had wondered about, had done research on. There is a feeling of awe we both feel, standing there with broken glass under our feet, bits of boards stacked up nearby.

Carefully, cautiously, we walk forward, through each room. We wonder about the stories each room contains. We run our fingers along the cracked green paint and step around the peeling grey tile.

In one room there is an ugly grey desk and an old record player. There’s a sign for the missing pool table. Rose wonders aloud, “Why was the pool table taken, but not this,” and places a finger on the record player. I shake my head. “Why did they take all of the curtains except that last one?” I point to the single fluttering yellow curtain. It is a strange thing. I never know who decides what is taken, what is left behind. We go upstairs and stare at the abandoned library. Books are scattered over the floor like a thousand lost souls. I turn away and don’t know whether I’m going to cry or throw up. It is just… wrong.

Rose tilts her head and whispers, “I’m far away from home…” The others who come here have spray painted words along the halls because they don’t understand the hollowed nature of abandoned buildings. They just feel the hollowness, I guess. But that one sentence is different, holds sadness in every stroke. It’s home here in this broken place.

At one of the other staircases Rose squats down and flips through the pages of an old Bible. There are pages missing, notes and cross-references scrawled in fading grey pencil. Rose reads the notes out loud as I sit on the bottom step and drag my toe through the debris of papers and disemboweled books. I imagine that each paper is a part of someone’s life; a part that they lost and can never get back.

“Why was this left here?” Rose asks, her voice breaking, but I shake my head. I don’t know why. I don’t know why anything was abandoned here with this building. “Come on,” I whisper. “It’s time to go.”

Before we leave, though, we stop in one last room downstairs. There’s an altar to the left. Bits of marble and plaster have crumbled and fallen. Blue tiles with golden scrollwork have sighed and given up. They lie on the ground, an unfinished mosaic. I imagine rows of boys kneeling on the ground, praying, and singing and filling the room with the music of being alive. I imagine the priest up at the front holding his hands up toward the sky-painted squares of ceiling. I wonder what words were spoken. Stepping carefully Rose and I walk over to the room behind the altar. Everywhere I see words and thoughts pressed against the walls, in between the cracks of missing mortar.

“I wish the walls could talk,” Rose whispers and I wonder if we’re thinking the same thing. We do that sometimes. As if we were twins in another reality, and this reality messed that up, putting us in different families, in different times. But here, in this broken down building, age and family and differences don’t matter. There are just the echoes of a dying place that used to be a home.

We leave, making sure we’re alone first, that no one is waiting outside as they walk their dogs or make out in the square of green grass. No on is there and we run to the side, push through the broken metal wall that separates the world from this broken place. They say it’s not safe. Of course not. Broken things are never safe.

We walked back to the car then, occasionally glancing back at the building that we will always love. We’ve seen its heart, we’ve seen its soul, and now it’s time to go home.

What I love most about Naomi's piece is the atmosphere. I love that she did not feel like she needed to have a big twist, which I seem to always need to throw in to my own flash fic. She chose instead to celebrate a quiet moment that touched her MC, and it completely worked - I can definitely relate to the solemn magic of an abandoned place and what once was there, how the spirit of the place lingers. In the classroom, even in first grade, we teach the genre of Small Moment writing, where you take one tiny moment that you experienced and flesh it out. This piece, to me, is a completely wonderful Small Moment.

Naomi, email me your address for your weeeeeeennnnnerrrryyyy goodness!

Don't forget to check out Vic's blog for her first place winner, Shayda Bakhshi!

Thank you to all who entered! Today's blogfest day - post your entries on your blog!

Second Place Winner!

2010-12-21T03:00:00.000-08:00

Thanks to everyone who entered the Truth is Stranger Than Fiction Contest that Vic (aspiring_x) and I hosted! Yesterday, we both posted our third place winners.

Today, congratulations goes to SARAH AHIERS (FALEN), my second place winner!

Desires

It used to be, when she was young, beautiful, desirable, she danced all night long. And there were men, and they would cheer, laugh, drink, want. They wanted her. Her limbs. Her hair. Her body. She craved the want. Craved the very need she fed. Sometimes, though, she hoped they wanted the dance. Like the cigarette reflections in their drinks, she mimicked the fire, hoped they would feel the movement, feel the way she felt it, burning through her limbs.

So she supplied, fed their need, and in turn fed her own. The sway of her hips and the grace of her legs as she spun, turned, flew, were all to give rise to movement. She did it for the dance, for their desire.

Until her dance began to end, as all things do. Some things end suddenly, in a flash of flame and glory. Others smother, as the skin sags, the muscles weaken, the legs falter.

Still, she danced, and danced in the light.

The men no longer laughed, loved, desired, but jeered, mocked, loathed. She tried to return to them what she’d once received, but she was unseen, unloved. Broken, except for the dance.

Later, tired, alone, she remembered the men. Flames flashing in their seats, desire burning through her limbs. She climbed the stage and brought the fire once more; those red and orange flames flickering in nature’s first dance. She spun, turned, flew as the flames grew closer and she again felt the caress of want.

And there were men, once more, with sirens and lights. They wanted her, pulled her from the stage, the dance. Her hair blackened, shedding, ash.

The men spoke, but she paid them no heed. Instead, she remembered her dance.

As she watched her stage feed the need of the fire, she smiled.

Here, had always been her best audience.

Congratulations, Sarah! I loved the beautiful way she portrayed aging - we don't know how old the MC is, presumably not incredibly old, but enough past her prime to look back on those days with a true sense of loss. Something truly strikes a chord with me in this story. I feel such sorrow for her when she tries to regain the men's lust and they jeer at her, as her self-worth is wrapped up in something that will never again be, through no fault of her own. Beautifully written!

Sarah, please email me your address so I can send some very merry goodies on their way!
Be sure to stop by Vic's blog today to read her second place entry by Emily White!

Third Place Winner!

2010-12-20T05:00:00.000-08:00

Thanks to everyone who entered the Truth is Stranger Than Fiction Contest that Vic (aspiring_x) and I hosted! We read all of the entries and actually both agreed on the two we chose for first place, second place, and third place! Today, tomorrow, and Wednesday, the winners will be revealed!

Today, congratulations goes to DONNA HOLE, my third place winner!

ESCALATION
Benny didn’t set out to rob The Bank Of America. What he set out to do was to retrieve his truck from impound.

Except; he didn’t have the thousand dollar fee that the last five days had racked up.

But he did have a plan.

His grandmother had opened him a savings account at Bank of America, and invested $1,000 towards his future. Since he didn’t graduate high school, it never occurred to him until now the money could be used for anything but college. His mom had told him she had to borrow some money from it over the years, but he was sure she’d put all the money back just as she’d promised. Who knew how much interest had built up in the 22 years since it’d been opened.

When he arrived at the B of A, he was surprised that so many people were in line. It was the middle of the work day after all.

Trying not to look stealthy, Benny strolled to the Plexiglas info stand near the center of the reception area. He pulled out a withdrawal slip - and stared at the requested info. ACCOUNT NAME he could supply, and did, printing in large, block letters. And signature was easy enough. He used bold, sweeping strokes to impress the teller with his suave.

He couldn’t remember the date.

All the shops he walked past had Christmas sales posters in the windows, but it was only a couple weeks ago he crashed a Halloween party. And two nights ago he’d succumbed to hunger and the cold and spent the night in a shelter. They were all talking about the Thanksgiving feed and invited him to come back for it.

His mind reeled. What the hell was the date? He looked pleadingly at the customers between the red ropes; but most were talking on cell phones, writing in day books, or reading. There was one woman in jeans and sweatshirt, fussing with a stroller. Benny approached her, cleared his throat, and asked what day it was.

“Thank you,” he said, returning her toothy grin.

He returned to the stand and wrote the date on the slip. Then stared in mute fascination at the last area to fill out. The account number. He couldn’t make a withdrawal without an account number.

He crumpled the withdrawal slip and stuffed it in the pouch pocket of his Lakers sweat shirt.

He began to imagine how much money should be in that account by now. Way more than the thousand he needed to retrieve his truck. The account was his, and he’d never withdrawn any money from it, so it should all be there for him to access in his hour of dire need. He turned over a deposit slip, tightly gripped the chained pen and in neat block print wrote: “This is a stick up. I have a gun in my pocket. Give me all the money in your till.”

Good, he thought; then he moved over to the customer line. He held the note for a few minutes, then worried someone would be able to see the message, so he stuffed it in his pocket.

Ten minutes later he was only three people closer to the tellers; with six people ahead of him in line. And everyone seemed to be staring at Benny as if they knew his secret.

With exaggerated motions, Benny pushed up his left sleeve, stared at his naked wrist, then loudly declared he was late as he rushed out the doors. By the time he managed to break free from crush of pedestrians, he’d crossed the street, flowed with the walking traffic down the sidewalk, and finally extricated himself in front of the Wells Fargo bank. He took it as a sign his plan could still work.

Benny entered the lobby, and was relieved to see only two people in line, and what looked like five open teller stations. He took his place in line, and before he had a chance to think about what he was doing, he had stepped up to a teller and slid the note across her counter. He stood with what he hoped was an intimidating scowl on his face, hands tucked into his pocket pouch.

“Is this a joke,” she asked, no hint of humor in her voice.

“Oh,” he answered, exchanging the wrinkled withdrawal slip for the deposit slip.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t accept this,” the 30 something red head informed him. “Its written on a Bank Of America deposit slip. You’ll have to go to that bank to make your intended withdrawal.”

“But, there’s a long line,” Benny complained.

“If I may suggest Sir, the nearest Bank of America is only a couple blocks up the street - South, and on the other side.”

Benny blew out a frustrated breath. “Thank you,” he said politely, and made his way towards the door.

He stopped at the Plexiglas podium that held exactly the same account brochures, deposit and withdrawal slips, and looked back to the helpful teller. She shook her head slightly, and wiggled her fingers towards the doors. She was right of course, he did have the note already written out on the B of A slip. He’d just have to wait in line like everyone else.

The walk sign at the intersection seemed to take an unusually long time to change. He wasn’t halfway across when he heard the sirens. Intent on his mission, he didn’t immediately register that the sounds of squealing tires and smell of burned rubber had surrounded his crosswalk. Until he heard his full name called from a bull horn.

“Drop your weapon, and put your hands on your head.”

He stopped and looked around. Several people were lying prone on the pavement, or curled in a fetal position with hands over their heads. The streets were empty except for squad cars with flashing blue and red lights.

What weapon

, he wondered, delving deep in the pocket for the incriminating robbery note.

* * *

What I really liked about this entry was the way that we watched the character's life spin completely out of control within a few minutes... the minutes that would change his life forever. I liked how Donna showed his desperation and how it led to a few too-quick bad choices that would completely throw his life off-course. You don't want to watch but you can't look away...
Congratulations, Donna! Please email me your address for your prizes! :D Don't forget to check out Vic's blog today for our other third place winning entry by Donea Lee!

Ho Ho.... Huh. (Part Two)

2010-12-16T18:06:00.000-08:00

(Thank you to everyone who entered our Truth is Stranger than Fiction contest! Vic and I are excitedly reading the entries and will post winners Mon, Tues, and Weds... I will link to her winners, too, so you don't miss out!)

So you read about our adventures with Mall Santa here. Further holiday head scratching ensues in 3...2...1...

Every year I take my kids to get Christmas portraits. The portrait place is good with kids, they don't overbook - the experience itself has repeatedly been good, even with small kids. I order a bunch of pics for family and I usually order all of my picture Christmas cards from them as well. This does, however, become a little pricey (last year, the total ran over $200), so this year, I decided to go with one of their smaller packages of cards, knowing I would need more. No prob, I planned to make more cards with Shutterfly. (So, yes, there are two completely different versions of our Christmas cards this year, lol).

I always do the Christmas portraits the first week of November. There is method to my madness - we all have two days off of school that week, and early November is generally a few weeks before random illness makes my kids all snot-nasty. This year was no different - a week after the portraits were taken, Tootsie Roll ended up with a cold and pink eye, and Curly Jones had a double ear infection and was wheezing in both lungs and sucking on a nebulizer every four hours. (See? This mama is no fool!)

I got my 36 portrait studio cards pretty quickly, addressed them, and created my Shutterfly cards on December 4, along with some other photo gifts. On December 8, the photo gifts arrived in my mailbox, but the cards were nowhere to be seen. On December 10, I checked my order online. It said that the photo gifts had been delivered Dec. 8 by USPS and that the cards were delivered the same day by UPS. I checked the tracking number with UPS, and sure enough, it said they were delivered to my front door.

Oh dear. Bright orange Shutterfly envelopes are sort of hard to miss, but I went back out and checked all around the front steps, then over to the garage and anywhere else I could think it might have ended up. No cards. So I contacted Shutterfly and they told me to wait a few more days. I said that didn't really make sense since both their site and UPS confirmed delivery two days prior. They just kept saying to wait a few more days and they would reprint the order. Urgh.

Meanwhile, I'm at home sighing, because this past summer, someone stole my credit card number and started ordering things, having them delivered in my name to my house, and picking up the packages before I got home. This was a giant hassle which culminated in a 7 year lock on my credit (for my protection) and a two-day police sting in front of my house (eventful, but unsuccessful). So of course I'm thinking that my package stealer has returned, even though we've gotten several holiday packages from Amazon recently without a problem.

The next day was Sunday, and after lunch, I had gone shopping while CJ napped and Handsome Hubby and Tootsie Roll hung out at home. I came home to see the bright orange Shutterfly package on the steps inside the house where we often leave the mail we bring in before we go through it. I found HH in the bedroom and said, "The Shutterfly package came? On a Sunday?"

CJ, snuggled in my bed, said, "Mommy, it came. The doorbell woke me up from my nap." I looked at HH and he said, "Yeah... um.... someone rang the doorbell but when I opened the door, no one was there, just the package. Completely ripped open." Like so:

With my name and address, perfectly correct, on the other side. Meaning... the package had been delivered, someone took it, kept it for four days deciding whether or not to return the Christmas cards with my kids' pictures on them, and then their conscience kicked in and they did. And rang and ran. Weird.

It sucks that people steal packages. It's good that conscience or holiday spirit drove someone to return this one. I mean, they could just as easily have tossed it in a trash can so as not to get caught. It's funny they took this package and not any of the 15 others that have arrived bearing Christmas gifts for my entire family over the past few weeks, since they sit outside until we get home. Huh. Well, Merry Christmas, anyway. :) Maybe the holiday spirit is alive and well after all.

Contest Ends Midnight Tonight (Weds 12/15)! :)

2010-12-15T03:58:00.000-08:00

Enter your flash fic now for your chance to win prizes at two blogs!
Click on the button for details. Good luck!

Ho Ho... Huh. (Part One)

2010-12-12T19:17:00.000-08:00

Holiday season is funny. We warm our hearts with thoughts of family, gifts, the fireplace, cookies, carols... and those things truly are wonderful. But then there is the side of the holidays we voluntarily put out of our minds - stress, crowds, drama, getting the kids to sit for photos. It's ok, we don't mind all of that, because all the fun stuff goes along with it, and often the craziness culminates in warm and wonderful celebrations.

This year, I have had my share of odd holiday experiences. Let's begin with The Mall Santa.

That is not an actual picture of our Mall Santa, but I'm not going to post the actual picture of my girls with our Mall Santa, because I'm pretty sure it would end up on Awkward Family Photos. Sorry, you'll have to use your imagination, but follow me on our Journey of Santa Fun.

I took the girls to see MS on a Thursday night after dinner. Handsome Hubs had to work that night, so I figured MS would provide instant child entertainment (not to mention it's a holiday necessity), and you can't really beat the weeknight crowd. So the girls decided that they wanted to change out of their school clothes and into their Christmas dresses... I was cool with that, so we dressed and were on our way.

(Tootsie Roll and Curly Jones in their actual Christmas dresses, to help you with your visual)

The mall was crowded, but not horrible, and we ran into a few people we hadn't seen in a while, so that was a pleasant bonus. (It's always nice to run into people you haven't seen in a while when your kids look really cute. It's like... Hi! How are you? I'm doing great. Yes, we are all doing wonderfully, as you can see, in our perfectly matching holiday finery. Of course we always look like this!)

We got to Santa's Workshop in the middle of the mall, and there were maybe four families in front of us. No problem, my kids whiled the time away marveling at the moving animals in the display and playing with the other kids in line. At one point, TR, whose third grade sensibilities are leading her to start questioning whether or not Santa is real, narrowed her eyes in Mall Santa's direction and whispered to me, "I don't think that guy is the real Santa, Mom. Every time a picture is done, he stops smiling."

This was true. But I reminded her it was late, and he was probably here all day, and yes, he probably was just a Santa's Helper. I think all the sneezing, the actual red nose, and the gigantor bottle of hand sanitizer beside him probably spoke to the kind of day he was having.

So we waited, and when there was only one little two year old boy ahead of us, Santa gestured to the photographer and she held up her hand toward the line. With one finger, she beckoned a lady standing with her son on the other side of the picture area (where you pick up your pictures). I thought maybe there was a problem with her picture, but then... then I saw it. A colorful sign that read FAST PASS. The woman sauntered over to Santa, placed her very unwilling child on his lap, and proceeded to bark all sorts of commands at the photographer, her son, and Santa. The woman standing in line in front of me with the little boy turned and said, "Did that just happen?"

I have to say, I have never seen a Fast Pass at a Mall Santa before. Disney World, where you stand in line for two hours for a five minute ride? Sure. (I will point out that we did not have Fast Passes at Disney. But I understand it.) But a Mall Santa? Really? When the wait was only 15 minutes anyway? Well... it was very nice to see such lessons in patience, waiting your turn, Christmas spirit, stopping to smell the gingerbread, and... oh, yes... money can get you anything. That kid doesn't even need presents now, I think he's pretty set.

When it was our turn, Santa lifted Curly Jones onto his left knee, but would not let Tootsie Roll sit on his lap. The kid is eight, skinny as a rail, and weighs 56 pounds. She's not exactly a tank. (The poor kid will probably never hit the 8 years/80 pounds to get out of a booster seat in the car law here in NJ). So instead, Santa pulled her back toward him, and in the picture, she is leaning very stiffly and awkwardly back, arms at her sides, looking like one of those creepy dolls that are supposed to look human. CJ is looking much the same, very stiff and strange, pulling her hair out to the side. But they're both smiling. Awesome. :)

Santa asked CJ what she wanted for Christmas, and she said (after rehearsing all the way over, "an orange baby doll" - don't ask me why orange), "Trains." Santa was cool with that. Then he asked TR, and she said, "Books. I love to read more than anything." (Woot! That's my girl!) And Santa was happy with that, too... until she smiled at me and added, "And lots of hugs and kisses." Santa gave me a look, then said to her, "Well... I can give you a hug... but.... the kisses will have to come from your family because Santa has a cold." (Cue me trying not to laugh and TR looking embarrassed - clearly she meant from me, not him.)

(Santa. Kiss.)

So the picture was done, it's weird looking, whatever, I don't mind. We were good to go. We went out the other side and stopped at the cashier's table. The pictures packages were crazy, of course - from Package A at $45 with some pictures, a picture cd (with one picture on it?), etc. to Package F for $20 (two 5x7s and a $10 Shutterfly card). They asked you which package you wanted on your way in to expedite the process (clearly not enough for Fast Pass people, but I digress), so my paper already had Package E circled. The 20-ish guy standing at the register took one look at me and said, "Yeah. You look like... an F." I blinked. It took me a minute to process that.... Did he just say I look like I opted for the cheapest package? Now, I didn't, but even if I did ($20! Still!), so what??? Does that make me a bad mom? Trust me, I don't want 85 copies of this particular winner of a photo. Not only that, I was still dressed from work. If I had shown up in sweats, would I have looked like I didn't deserve to enter Santa's Workshop?

I just kind of gave him a strange look and signed the credit card slip and he was all, "Yeah. I hate kids."

No worries, though, folks... I am all about Christmas and was pretty amused at the entire experience. And it gets better... wait till you hear what happened with our Christmas cards!

Oh yeah! Don't forget to enter our Flash Fiction contest! Ends Dec. 15! PRIZES - books and holiday goodies! CLICK FOR DETAILS!

Would You Want to Know?

2010-12-08T19:17:00.000-08:00

Would you like a glimpse into the future? For some things, but not others? For a short distance, but not long-range? Well, now you can have one... at least weather-wise.

There is a site called The Weather Wiz that can predict the weather up to two years in advance. Planning a wedding? Big vacation? May be worth a peek. I just found out, for example, that on my birthday in the middle of August in the year 2012, it will be cloudy and unseasonably cool (high of 74) with a chance of rainshowers or thundershowers - possibly heavy.

(this picture is from my bday forecast on the site)

Wow. Bummer. Guess I'll plan exciting birthday adventures for another day. No worries, though... next year my bday is all happiness and good weather:

Now, I take this with a grain of salt, seeing as the meteorologists on the major news networks can't always accurately predict the next day's weather, despite their advanced Doppler Ten Billions. And that's ok by me, predicting the future even with scientific tools is a bit of a crapshoot.

But the Weather Wiz got me thinking. If you could look into your future as a writer, would you?

For me, I'd have to say no. I mean, sure, it'd be great to find out that something I wrote went the distance, from agent to editor to publication and good sales (yeah, totally J.K. Rowling sales). But I know me... when I plot out the endings to a story, then actually writing the thing becomes a total chore. Writing is fun for me when things reveal themselves along the way. If I knew I were going to be successful, then the journey and the hope and the excitement and the possible heartbreak or possible moments of squeeeeeee! would all be gone.

I wouldn't want to have the moment I (someday) get an agent and the moment I (someday) get my book picked up and the moment I (someday) have a cover designed for my baby and (someday) see it for real in a bookstore... well you get the idea, I wouldn't want to miss out on those moments along the road. (And if I knew I wasn't going to be successful, would I still want to write? Probably, because publication is not my only driving force, but... what a downer! It would definitely change my perspective). So often in real life, just like in our characters' lives, it's the journey...

No, not that Journey...

That's the one. Would you want to know about your writing future?

About anything in the future?

In Which I Stage My Own Intervention

2010-12-07T05:03:00.000-08:00

Lindsey... sit down. We need to talk.

First, almost a year of blogging - woot! You started this blog last January with the plan of writing your novel and documenting the journey. You had good intentions, really. You even started off strong, writing away on that shiny new idea at Tootsie Roll's hockey practices, hitting a road block in plot, working it out, doing lots of research.

And then.... well.... you got bogged down with research. You got so involved with your idea that it no longer felt original. You needed some space. You got busy with The Real Job and spent the summer playing with your kids (which you absolutely do not regret).

You got distracted by yet another shiny new idea. Rookie mistake. You see that now, I know. I won't beat you up over it. Keep it filed away for later.

And then school started again and you know how September is and then you joined a blogfest to blog every day in October, and while it was fun, your posts were really just filler to post something every day. Probably not the best choice. Then there was November, full of report cards and conferences and hosting Thanksgiving. We know how November goes. At least you wisely sidestepped NaNo this year (even though you missed the fun and camaraderie, I know).

Now it's December and we can look back on the year and observe a few things. One, that novel is calling to you again, which is a good thing. You are months removed and definitely have renewed interest. Your characters are talking to you in the shower again, which can only be good.

So we need to come up with a plan. Let's get real - this novel is not going to write itself. It's ok to be forgiving at busy times of year, but it might be wise to set up a writing schedule and stick to it the best you can. You need to try to be a little more consistent. You need to take yourself somewhere quiet. You need to stop trying to write on the computer, because as your blog title so presumptuously states, you work best when you're pressing a nib to paper. Yes, you will have to type later, but you can revise while you type (and then revise again. And again.), so it all works out.

Let's get serious. You need to start reading those writing books that are set up all nicely on your writing desk (which, really, needs to stop being covered with lesson plans and the kids' school stuff and bills and paperwork). I know you don't have a lot of reading time and that you like to use it to read that amazing YA TBR stack that keeps growing. But news flash... those amazing authors only published their books after they wrote them.

I know you're feeling like your blog has been going nowhere lately, and that's ok. We all have bloggy moments of meh. But I promise, once you start writing again, you will have no end of things to discuss, characters to flesh out, frustrations to vent, AHA! moments to rejoice in. I swear. :)

To be fair, this blog has been an amazing experience this year that has introduced you to an amazing, talented, supportive, thoughtful, creative bunch of writers, as well as incredibly useful information on craft, querying, agents, the road to publication, and any number of invaluable little tidbits. You needed that and will continue to need it, but now you know where to find it. You also need a Crit Partner... but one step at a time. Once you have more writing done, this will be an excellent place to find one. Or more.

So listen, Lindsey. It's not all bad. You have a foundation and a support system you never knew existed. And you know where you need to go from here. It's a pretty good place to be, actually. Remember, I'm doing this with your best interest at heart.

Now go forth and write. :)

love,
Lindsey

It's CONTEST TIME!

2010-11-30T19:12:00.000-08:00

Flash! Aaaa-aaahhhhh! Savior of the Universe!

(Oops, am I the only one reminded of the Flash Gordon theme when thinking about flash fiction? Yes? Ok.)

So... anyway... IT'S ON! Come celebrate with Vic Caswell (aspiring_x) of Hairnets and Hopes and me! Vic is celebrating 100+ followers and I'm celebrating 300+ (wow! you guys rock!) with a flash fiction contest! Double prizes! YEAH!!!

Here's how to enter:

1. Write a piece of flash fiction (1000 words or less) with the theme of Truth is Stranger than Fiction. Use something true as your seed idea (something that happened to you, someone you know, something you've read, etc.) and then fictionalize to your heart's content!

2. Email your entry to us by December 15. My email is MaddestHatter(at)verizon(dot)net. Vic's is on her blog. You can email either one of us - I promise we'll share! We are both picking winners and we both have prizes! (Sorry, mine are US only - wish I had the $ for int'l shipping!). Please send a Word doc without your name so that we can judge fairly - after we pick winners, we will match the story to your email!

3. Winners will be chosen and we will post the winning entries on Mon, Tues, and Weds of the next week (Dec. 22).

On Dec. 22, let the blogfest begin! We hope everyone will post their entries. We will link for your reading pleasure!

Oh, wait. What else... PRIIIIIZES!!! Vic's prizes will be fantastic boxes of books, movies, and candy! Pop on over to her blog to see (she will be posting rules 12/1).

Over here at Le Dange, all three winners will be getting a secret holiday surprise, PLUS two handmade ornaments each:

... PLUS your choice of the following books (first choice to the first place winner and so on):

(All hardbacks)

GOOD LUCK TO EVERYONE!!!

We can't wait to read your stories!

Have fun and happy writing! Feel free to grab our scary angler fish button for your blog!

(And now... just cause I can... "Flash! Flash, I love you! But we only have 14 hours to save the Earth!")

No Love for Picture Books?

2010-11-29T20:02:00.000-08:00

I don't talk a whole lot about picture books here, since my writing is geared older, but... A recent article in the New York Times describes how publishers are scaling back on picture books as parents favor text-heavy chapter books for their young children. The full article can be found here:

New York Times: Picture Books No Longer a Staple for Children

Sigh. Wait... SIGH. REALLY LOUDLY.

I don't write picture books, but I do teach young children. I spend a lot of time talking to parents about books that are "just-right" for their children, and trying to slow the rush into chapter books for my first graders.

Now... I do read chapter books to my class, as read alouds. With much discussion. Review. Vocabulary building. But my kiddies, even my brightest ones, can gain bad reading habits by jumping too quickly into chapter books. They learn to decode but they lack comprehension even though they can pronounce the words. Developmentally, most little guys cannot remember an entire chapter book-length story. When asked to discuss or retell their stories (book closed) right after they read, they only tell me what happened at the end, because they are unable to accumulate all that text. Then they begin to do this even in shorter, more simple stories, because it has become a bad habit. :(
The definition that many first grade teachers use of reading is "making meaning of text". If our kids are not making meaning, or comprehending, they are not really reading. They are spitting out words. They miss the critical thinking skills built with picture books. And man, are they missing some good stories.

Besides, what's the rush? I always tell both the kids and the parents that all of them will be reading beginning chapter books (think Henry and Mudge, Poppleton, Frog and Toad) by the end of first grade/beginning of second grade, so let's take the time to lay the foundation and we'll get there. Chapter books aren't going anywhere. :)

But there is more here than just my rant on "just right" reading. I am a lover of picture books. There is SUCH BEAUTY in picture books! The idea that they are becoming less valued is incredibly sad to me, but on the upside, I get to fill my kiddies' days with them. As a celebration of picture books, here are some of my absolute favorites:

Oh. I could go on and on. These books are like my little best friends. Thank goodness I get to share them with my own kids and my first graders, along with many, many more wonderful reads.

Do you have a soft spot for picture books? What are your favorites?

An Award!

2010-11-27T13:01:00.000-08:00

First, I would like to thank the lovely and kind Maria McKenzie from Reading, Writing, Romance for the Versatile Blogger Award!

Maria's blog alternates between delicious and delicious... lol, the eating kind and the "I shall marinate in this writerly advice" kind. I am, as Handsome Hubs can attest, a terrible cook. (Fortunately, he is not!) So people who achieve culinary success earn my awe from the start. Every now and then HH and I watch Hell's Kitchen and I cringe at the way the less successful chefs on that show get berated, because they are still leagues and miles above me. (Though I will point out that HH still, after 12 years of marriage, pretends that he likes my culinary experiments... experiments being stuff like... um... chicken. That I may or may not sear directly to the pan. Nope. I totally never did that. Although I think HH just appreciates the times when he doesn't have to cook, regardless of the wooden chicken that appears. Stuck. To the pan.)

Wow, I got totally off track there, lol. I also wanted to say about Maria that although her writing genre (romance) is completely different from mine (YA... I think... if I ever finish a novel, maybe we'll find out), I find that the advice that she posts and the discussions that she begins are helpful and interesting. She has recently posted about such diverse topics as poetry (LOVE), villainry (SUPER LOVE), and snippets of writing advice (NEED and LOVE). So whether are a writer, or just hungry, or maybe even a hungry writer... go stop by. You'll be glad you did!

Ok, so now for the award "rules" (it's been a long time since I did one of these!), I am supposed to list 7 things about me. Hmm. This is the part I always find difficult. Without going back into past award posts that are buried deep in the vaults of Le Dange, I will probably end up repeating things I've said before, because I'm not sure there are multitudes of 7 things that are all that interesting here. :) Here goes:

1. I have owned 7 cars in the past 16 years. 5 or 6 of them have been totaled (I lost count).
2. I once had a pet shark. His name was Jaws. He grew about a foot long.
3. I once had a pet hamster who got some sort of flesh-eating/rotting disease. Yuuuuuuuck.
4. I kissed a boy in a graveyard once.
5. When Tootsie Roll was a baby, we lived in our basement for a year and a half while the entire rest of our house was being demolished and rebuilt (we turned a cape into a colonial). It was a horrendous experience, the entire house was flooded twice, our contractor was an alcoholic and the company fired him mid-job... you name it, it went wrong. When it was FINALLY done, it was gorgeous. And then we moved. :)
6. This past summer, someone stole my credit card number and ordered really weird things like National Geographic Earth videos, workout videos, and beautiful Oneida silverware. It was a big hassle that ended with a police stakeout in front of my house. Kind of bizarre and a real pain in the neck credit-wise, but strangely entertaining.
7. I so seriously wish that I could write a book about the crazy things that are entirely the norm in an elementary school teacher's day (crazy things the kids say, crazier things the parents say). I love my job, and it is definitely both rewarding and entertaining. Too bad I'd get fired! ;)

Now my last order of business is to send this award on its merry way to 12 other bloggers I've recently discovered and find fantastic, so the award goes to:

1. Michele Emrath at Southern City Mysteries
2. Donea Lee at Queen of Procrastination
3. Carol Riggs at Artzicarol Ramblings
4. Rebecca T. at Sonshine Thoughts (ok, not "recently discovered"... but definitely fantastic!)
5. Quinn at Seeing, Dreaming, Writing
6. Brad Jaeger

Oops, the curly blonde one has awoken from her thankfully-zithromax-inspired nap (after we were awake together from 1 to 6am this morning - I was then relieved by HH to nap myself - thanks to a recurring ear infection and asthmaorallergiesnooneisquitesure cough). So my list will have to end here. Oh, eighth thing about me - I don't always follow the rules (hence the blog title)! That makes me unruly! :)

UPDATED... Ok, it's a few hours later and my girly whirlies are in bed. So I am going to add on the final 6 award recipients, because, even though I don't mind breaking the rules, there are so many great and deserving blogs out there! So here goes...

7. Debbie at Thoughts in Writing, who is a new blogger and whose posts so far have been lovely and touching. She also just finished her first book!
8. Marieke at Marieke's Musings (currently giving away a preorder of Beth Revis' Across the Universe!)
9. Erica and Christy
10. Vic (aspiring_x) at Hairnets and Hopes (also not a new find but definitely a versatile lady!)
11. Talei Loto at Musings of an Aspiring Scribe
12. Writing in a Nutshell

Ok! My work here is done, lol. Maybe I should go, I don't know... write something?!?

In Gratitude

2010-11-23T18:59:00.000-08:00

There aren't words for how thankful I am for them:

And for Handsome Hubby, the most incredible man I know.

For my sweetest fuzzy puppy.

For my family, most of them coming for Thanksgiving, we'll be missing those who can't (next year!).

I'm thankful for having all the things that we don't think twice about but that many people don't have - food, home, warm clothes, cars, safety, medicine, jobs.

For our health.

For my students, my cutie patootie first graders and their supportive parents.

For being able to follow my writing dream (when I can find time, lol).

For friends. Good ones.

For the beauty in the world around us and remembering to notice it.

For books and music and all of the things that make a good life great.

For bloggy friends who write and bloggy friends who read and this whole amazing community that I became a part of less than a year ago but feel like I've known forever because you all get it.

I'm thankful for the time this week to stop and be thankful.

Happy, happy Thanksgiving!

Hunger Games Fan Video

2010-11-19T19:17:00.000-08:00

I saw this on Steph Sinkhorn's blog and HAD to repost it here. This is a fan video made for The Hunger Games (the movie is slated to come out from Lionsgate in 2013). Pretty darn amazing. (SPOILERS obviously if you haven't read the book yet!)

If you haven't read it yet... Go read it. NOW! :)

Ooooh! It's a Teeny Prizey Preview!

2010-11-17T21:03:00.000-08:00

Hey, Writerly Types! Don't forget that when you are all NaNo'd out, Vic and I are hosting a Truth is Stranger Than Flash Fiction contest through mid-December! For details, click that scary looking button on the top right over there. Vic is doing movie and candy boxes of prizes, and my prizes will be books and holiday goodies. Sweeeeeeet! Here is just a teensy little preview of something that will go into my prize boxes - holiday ornaments handmade by my sister. (Shouldn't she open an Etsy shop?!?) Now I want Christmas to be here! :D More contesty details and prize package info at the end of this month!

Many thanks to my awesome sister for sharing her crafty goodness!

Best. (Kiddie.) Gift. Ever.

2010-11-15T17:55:00.000-08:00

If you don't know eeboo, click on that link right thar and thank me later. They are a company with lots of wonderful, imaginative kiddie products like paper dolls, puzzles, special notebooks, etc. But my favorite thing that they sell are Tell Me a Story cards.

My kids loooooooooooooooooove these. It's a deck of cards with fairy tale pictures on them. You can do a zillion different things with them, but Tootsie Roll's favorite thing to do is to spread out the entire deck on the floor, upside down (so you can't see the pictures), say "Once upon a time..." and pick up any random card. She tells the beginning of the story with that card, then says "and then..." and I pick up a random card and continue the story. It turns out completely differently every time, and sometimes it's really funny trying to curve the story so that the next picture fits into the plot. Tonight we were literally rolling on the floor laughing at our story.

This is the Fairy Tale Mix Up set. We also have the Mystery in the Forest set:

There are two other sets, Circus Animal Adventures and Little Robots Mission. They also make Write Me a Story versions:

... but I always love the stories that we make up ourselves. I love the storytelling aspect.

They have a million other gorgeous products here. I am so in luuuuuuuuuv.... Christmas shopping here I come! (ps... I have no connection to this company, I just love their stuff!)

Here, Bake This.

2010-11-12T18:31:00.000-08:00

I am, at present, baking an apple pie. I didn't make the pie, though... my daughter did, at Brownies. Her wonderful, impressive Brownie leaders were ambitious enough to have each 8 year old girl make her own apple pie using a Betty Crocker recipe. During their hour and a half meeting after school. And they also made cornbread from scratch to donate to a local shelter. (Excuse me, ladies, can I hire you?) But back to the pie... they handed it to me when I arrived to pick her up and said, "This needs to be baked tonight." And they gave me directions. Verbal ones. Which I promptly forgot even though I tried really hard not to. So I looked on the Betty Crocker site to find baking instructions (having never made a pie myself) and it pretty much said "Heat the oven to 425, then bake 30-35 minutes until the top is golden brown", which is a whole lot less complex than what I was told. So hopefully it will go well. We'll see! The house will smell good, anyway! :)

I don't have much else to write about, being sort of mired in work this month (conferences, American Education Week, and my observation all next week... gahhhh), except that I have to send a giant shout-out to V.R. Barkowski, who just sent me a box of Neil Gaiman books as one of the prizes in her recent signing celebration/300 followers contest. Thank you, Viva! And.... Neil Gaiman!!!! YIPPEEEE!!!

Enjoy your weekend, everyone!

UPDATED: The Pie!

And me wishing I could dig in but Tootsie Roll is already in bed so I can't eat her pie without her. :)
Oh, and the books I won were The Graveyard Book (which I had, but not with the perty Newbery Award on it!), Neverwhere (which I didn't have), and American Gods (which I also didn't have).

After a Pajama Reading Party at school today, adorable pictures made by Curly Jones at preschool, dinner out with the fam, then Neil Gaiman and apple pie (or at least the smell, lol) tonight... Happy Friday!

Dear Facebook

2010-11-08T17:48:00.000-08:00

Dear Facebook,

~~I'm leaving you.~~ Umm... I think I need a little space. It's not you, it's me. Ok, it's you and the fact that I don't really need to know the minutiae (I had to look up the spelling of that word, every possibility looked weird) of everyone else's day, even though it is oddly compelling.

It's also me, I believe I have some sort of undiagnosed social anxiety, and for some reason, reading you makes me agitated. I also find that people say things they might filter a bit more in person. I've found in the past few weeks that people's (often angry) opinions are getting under my skin. Plus I have spent too much time with you. No offense.

So... it's better this way. I haven't posted in about a week, and I'm feeling more relaxed already. I haven't even really been wondering what's going on in your world, nor have I been dying to post my kids' new Christmas portraits for the world to see, because, really, I think I'm just over you.

Maybe if I ever have a book to publicize, we'll talk. I'm not burning bridges, Facebook. Let's just go our separate ways and maybe I'll even have more time to write said book. :) Good luck with that dinner you are cooking, movie you hated, and cryptic message that makes everyone ask what's going on.

Not yours anymore,
Lindsey

From October Spookies to November Love

2010-11-01T17:19:00.000-07:00

Just so darn cute I couldn't resist...

Horror Story

2010-10-29T19:30:00.000-07:00

This is the flash fic that I wrote for Horror at Hannah's - she posted the winners today and it was so much fun reading them - whooooa, shivers!!! I've never written horror before so the push to write something different is always a bonus for me. I really enjoyed it!

NUMBERS

Saturday

Breathe. Breathe in, breathe out. Gwen Evens convinced herself that she could slow things down, postpone the baby’s arrival through the night, at least until a gut-wrenching contraction made her grip the door handle with the same white knuckles that Tom had on the steering wheel.

When they arrived at Mercy, Tom snapped at one of the orderlies dressed in teddy bear scrubs, “Has anyone…?” But he knew by the way they avoided his panicked gaze. In the maternity ward, Gwen was examined and hooked up to IVs and monitors. Dr. Paulino arrived within the hour. Disappointment fleetingly graced his features, replaced quickly by a mask of hope. He squeezed Gwen’s hand and looked at his watch. “It may take time. We’ll go slow.”

But baby Joshua had other ideas. Two hours later, he came into the world and sucked enough air into his lungs for one great howl. The unfathomable silence that followed was quickly broken by another wail, a harrowing moan that filled the entire ward the way that only a grieving mother’s voice could.

The night breeze through the car windows blew Becca’s hair across her shoulders. She nestled into the backseat and wondered if Dave noticed. He leaned forward, telling Christian and Abby the three-legged cat joke that he had told her twice already, but she smiled when his hand slid between her knees. Abby rolled her eyes at the punchline and reached toward the radio knob as they began to lose the station.

“Where the hell are we? I have to pee.” The smoke Abby blew out her window came right back through Becca’s behind her. Becca coughed under her breath at the sweet, pungent cloud. She didn’t smoke that stuff, but she didn’t know Abby well enough to say anything. Dave’s best friend Christian had only been dating Abby for two weeks. He was the one who had planned the road trip.

As if on cue, they drove past a large white sign. Dave waved his bottle at Christian.

“Dude! Back up. What’d that say?” Christian hit the brakes and they all bounced forward. He revved the car backward and stopped at the sign. It was old fashioned, made of wood, painted white with black lettering.

Welcome to Balance, Nevada. Population 2,653. A nice place to live.

“Hope I don’t have to take a balance test,” Christian snickered.

“A nice place to live?” Abby snorted. “A sucky place to drive through.”

Dave smirked and squeezed Becca’s leg. “I don’t know. Plenty of open space, nice long grass, lots of privacy…” He leaned over and kissed her.

“What’s that one say?” Becca glared at the back of Abby’s seat in front of her, willing her to shut up. Christian stopped the car again, next to another wooden sign. He squinted and read it out loud.

“The land is to be allotted to them as an inheritance based on the number of names.

Numbers 26:53”

“Aww, man,” snorted Dave, “It’s one of those towns. Hide the children, Jackie Sue, them there e-vil kids’ got al-kee-hol!” All four of them laughed and Christian gunned the engine and roared up the road.

“Teenage heathens!” Dave gasped, “Batten down th-“ But no one battened down anything before the radio Abby was tuning emitted an ear-splitting screech and the gold clunker driven by Tom Evens plowed directly into her door.

Gwen’s eyes narrowed as ambulance lights reflected on her hospital room window. Not now. Not a mere three hours later. She tore the IV from her arm, but the alarm it set off beckoned a nurse before she even got out of bed.

“No, you don’t. You need to rest.” The nurse’s grip was strong and before Gwen could protest, a needle was thrust into her arm and the room began to swim.

____________________________________________

Sunday

It was an itch that brought Becca back to consciousness. An incessant itch on her right foot. She needed to scratch it. She willed her tired eyes to open, but her eyelids felt like lead. After a few moments, she made them part slightly, looking through her sticky lashes like an insect in a Venus flytrap. Something was wrong. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t move, but she could see the woman standing in the doorway. She tried to speak, but her lips were concrete. Exhausted, her eyes rolled back and she gave in to sweet darkness.

Gwen sat in the chair next to the girl. The girl who had survived the car accident that had killed her husband and two other teenagers. The girl’s eyes fluttered open again and she pulled confusedly at the restraints on her wrists. Gwen smoothed the girl’s hair and sighed at the pained moan stifled by the tape on Becca’s mouth.

“It’s Sunday, dear. There are no doctors. We don’t work on Sundays here. It’s a day of rest, of course.” The girl’s eyes widened and Gwen smiled, nodding toward the curtain that split the room.

“Don’t worry, though. The car accident was last night. Saturday. So there was time to balance before Sunday. I’ll have to try to keep that one alive through the day. Might not be easy, but I don’t know where we’ll get anyone else, and you know what happens if we’re out of balance.” She got up and drew back the curtain. Becca could barely make out Dave’s mangled body. Was he missing an arm? Machines clicked beside him but he couldn’t possibly be alive. Could he?

“You’ll get used to it here,” Gwen’s wistful voice pierced the fog in Becca’s mind. “I’ll raise you like my own. He can be my Joshua. I doubt he’ll tell me any different. And you, my dear, let’s call you…” but Becca couldn’t focus any longer. As her eyes closed once more, an image flashed behind her eyelids.

“The land is to be allotted to them as an inheritance based on the number of names.

Numbers 26:53”

Welcome to Balance, Nevada. Population 2,653. A nice place to live.

Curiouser and Curiouser

2010-10-25T19:25:00.000-07:00

For this week's Sunday Scribblings prompt, "curious":

______________________________________

“Curiouser and curiouser!” cried Alice (she was so much surprised that for the moment she quite forgot how to speak good English).

The Mad Hatter eyed her, with a moment of stark lucidity.

“How much curiouser can you be, child? Unless it is a contest with oneself, it really is rather ludicrous to continue to heap curiosity upon itself.”

With that, he removed his rather large hat from his rather large head. Alice wondered how his pencil neck supported such weight, and then stopped wondering just as quickly. Perhaps he was right. It was not her neck bearing the weight, after all. What did it matter?

The Hatter’s head began to shrink. His hat took on a much more reasonably tophattish nature. He looked quite like… like the men who worked with Alice’s father at Christ Church.

As alarming as it had been to see the Hatter the first time, it was twice so somehow to see him transform, each quirk smoothed into the Average Man.

“Very good, child,” he nodded, sipping his ordinary black tea from his ordinary white cup. “You are growing up.”

I'm Not Superstitious, But Bad Things Do Seem to Happen in Threes

2010-10-25T17:58:00.000-07:00

I'm really not. I'll pet black cats, walk under ladders, step on cracks. I mean, I don't go out of my way to do those things, but I'll do it. Probably the most superstitious thing I ever did was pass on buying a house with the address 13 Elm Street, lol. :) That was pushing it a bit, even for me.

I have noticed, though, that the "Bad Things Happen in Threes" superstition tends to hold true. Ok, you can really kind of reach and find 3 misfortunes that happen at once and make it true, but I tend to notice that it was true after the fact rather than waiting for the second or third hammer to fall.

So today, I took off work (sub plans are a bear to write, by the way, and I had to go in this morning anyway to make all the copies and stuff) to take poor, sick Curly Jones to the doctor. She has had a nasty, wet cough and has been complaining of ear pain. Tootsie Roll was Ear Infection Queen by the time she got ear tubes at 15 months, but CJ has been pretty lucky about avoiding this particular malady.

Anyway, I went to the dr expecting a diagnosis of ear infection. Which she got... doubly (both ears are infected). And the doctor said she is wheezing on both sides, which means we went home the proud new owners of a nebulizer along with some pretty potent antibiotics. So it never occurred to me that I should be waiting for a third issue, but a little while after we got home, I went in the laundry room to get a load of wash started. Antsy little CJ did not stay 5 feet away on the couch in the den, but instead followed me in and decided that opening the dryer would be fun. You know how dryer doors stick... on purpose? Well, she yanked really hard and it came flying open. Right into her face. Enter massive nosebleed.

Fortunately, CJ is one happy kid and was not overly phased by nasty Amoxicillan ("This medicine is good!"), 10-minute stints with the nebulizer mask on her face ("Tell me a story, Mommy."), or massive nosebleeds, apparently ("Am I still blooding?"). Definitely a trooper.

On a funnier note, tonight Tootsie Roll and I were reading Gooseberry Park and in the middle of a chapter, she stopped reading and said, "She started a sentence with the word 'and'? That's very unusual for someone who is a professional author." Ahh, T-Roll. My consummate rule-follower! ;)

Merry Thanksgivween

2010-10-24T17:57:00.000-07:00

We were at Target today, buying all sorts of necessary things like shampoo and hand soap and laundry detergent (amazing how we get low on all things soapy at once) and I remembered that I had to check the Halloween aisle for a Little Red Riding Hood cape. My class does fairy tale plays every June, and every June I think to myself, "I have to remember to look for a Red Riding Hood cape this Halloween." And this year I actually remembered! So there I was, in the Halloween section of the store (which was surprisingly still decently stocked), and there the Target Team was, hanging up hundreds of Christmas wreaths. One of the Halloween aisles has already been reassigned to spare Christmas tree lights, decoration hooks, and boxes of cards.

Hrm. This totally weirds out my mojo. I'm not a huge fan of Halloween, actually. I love how my first graders get all excited (we don't dress up in school, but we have a big Fall Fest day of activities) and totally enjoy dressing my girls up for their dance class, for the Masquerade Ball at night at my school, and for trick or treating. But when it's all said and done, I'm like... ok... put it all away... let's move on.

We host Thanksgiving at our house, and I do love it (Target seems nonplussed, although they did have more in autumny candles and yellow/gold/red housewares). We have both sides of the family over and everyone brings stuff, and it's just a wonderful day. Yes, it's a lot to do (I clean the house and set everything up, Handsome Hubby does the cooking), but there's just a feeling when everyone is sitting together and chatting and eating that you can't replicate.

But Christmas is the holiday I love the most. Just the love and peace and togetherness and time off from work to hang out with the kids. We have so many holiday memories. I already have the kids' Christmas dresses and shoes (thanks, Target, for red shoes in both size 8 and 1 1/2) and have their portraits scheduled. So I guess Target and I aren't so far off in our thinking. It's just weird to see it all together, skeletons and fake pine wreaths...

Random Cuteness

2010-10-23T19:12:00.000-07:00

From before dance class today :)

Remembering Our Babies

2010-10-21T17:54:00.000-07:00

October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month, and Oct. 15th specifically is PIL Remembrance Day. (The banner above is from the official site for Remembering Our Babies).

Today is an Angel Day for me. October 21, 2006, was the due date for my Lily, who I lost early at 8 weeks. She would have been 4 today. Earlier that same year, May 17th, 2006, was the due date for my Conor, who I lost at 6 weeks. He would have been 4 this year as well. My two losses were five months apart, and they were between my two happy and healthy baby girls. I had no problems with Tootsie Roll's pregnancy. After my miscarriages, I was put on meds to help ensure that Curly Jones' pregnancy would make it to term. The doctors told me that they usually don't treat anyone until they've had three miscarriages. I pretty much didn't accept taking my chances on a third. They drew 21 vials of blood to do testing and found very little in terms of cause, but they put me on Metformin (which is an insulin regulator, they thought I maybe had PCOS) and progesterone. Curly Jones' pregnancy was healthy and uneventful, thankfully.

Miscarriages have a strange stigma. People don't talk about them much but they are something that many of us have gone through. Even early ones like mine are completely devastating, and you need to grieve. After I took a few days off with my first one, I returned to work and my principal at the time (a woman) said to me, "It happens to lots of us. Get over it." There are a lot of wrong things to say to a grieving mom. This is one. Also wrong is for the OB's receptionist to be telling you jokes as she schedules your d&c.

I have grieved and I have some remembrances for both of my losses. Today, I remember Lily and Conor both, and I send a prayer out to any of you who have experienced loss. There is a lot of support out there. If you are trying to support someone who has experienced loss, please reach out to them. You don't have to say anything but you're sorry and you're there if they want to talk. It means the world, since so many people say nothing because they don't want to say the wrong thing.

The following is from GrieveOutLoud.org:

“Every single day in the US, 2,000 women lose a baby to pregnancy/infant loss. That’s 700,000 a year, a third of every female in this country. So why does no one talk about it?

In honor of October 15th, National Pregnancy/Infant Loss Remembrance Day, we are opening up the conversation. We are “putting a face” on miscarriage, stillbirth, and infant loss. We are sharing our faces, and declaring to the world, “I am not ashamed to talk about my baby.”
The goal of the I AM THE FACE campaign is simple: to spread awareness of pregnancy/infant loss, and raise support for those who are affected by it. With your help, we will raise $2,000 for the 2,000 women who experience the loss of a child every day. $2,000 for 2,000 faces.

I have gotten some very lovely and tasteful remembrance jewelry at My Forever Child.

Love to Conor and Lily and all Angel Babies today and always.

Is My First Work of Horror a Horror Show?

2010-10-20T19:16:00.000-07:00

Lol... I have no idea! I just finished my flash fiction for Horror at Hannah's, and never having written horror before, I have no idea what to think. Is it passable? Does it suck? I guess I'll find out soon! Trying to have a few people read over it for me before I submit. Hubby told me he got chills, but didn't have any suggestions other than fixing a typo (lol). I haven't gotten a WiP to the Crit Partner stage yet, so I don't have a tear-it-to-shreds bud just yet. ;) And flash fic doesn't offer much wiggle room - My 1,000 words or less story is 1,000 words on the nose. Go me! Or something. ;)

I'm not a huge reader of scary stories. I like suspense, but not a ton of gore. I read a couple of John Saul books a few months ago and they were sort of suspenseful but icky. I'm not a big Stephen King fan; I actually really prefer his non-horror books like The Green Mile. The Eyes of the Dragon is my favorite by him, and it's fantasy. I liked The Ruins, even though it was kind of silly.

Hmm. What are your favorite books that are suspenseful or scary but not overly gory?

Pace and Backstory (Or... An Area in Which I Have Issues)

2010-10-19T17:48:00.000-07:00

When I think about the pace of a novel, I think of a marathon*. You have to keep up a steady pace to keep your reader interested. There will be peaks and valleys, but it has to keep moving. And, like a marathon, reading a novel is voluntary. Though people don't like to drop out after beginning, they will if they lose momentum.

Pace has always been an issue for me. I'm not currently WiP-ing, but today on the drive home from work, I began to give serious thought to the WiP that I was working on when I started this blog back in January. I put it aside over the summer because it began to overwhelm me. I was doing a bunch of research (that in itself can become burdensome. Wait... is that a word?) and trying to decide if I wanted events that happened before the story to be a prologue or to work them into the story later. In short, a bunch of things made me begin to feel like I was losing control of where I wanted the story to go, and I needed to step away from the vehicle.

Why is this an issue of pace? Because my major issue is that I'm not sure where to drop backstory in while keeping the story itself moving. I don't want to break the action by blabbing on about what happened before, but the reader needs to know. How do you do that naturally? How do you "show not tell" things that have already occured? I am going to have to reread The Hunger Games like a master class in dropping the reader into the action while having a whole lot of backstory to explain. I don't remember being distracted by Panem's backstory in the series; in fact, I was hungry for as much information as I could get on what had happened before and how Panem's history had led up to The Reaping at the beginning of the first book.

I guess I'm a lazy writer, lol. I wish I could just drop my reader into the current story with an understanding of where my MC has been (and, more importantly in the beginning, where her parents have been). In my mind, I can visualize it like a movie... and when you see it, there is so much less to tell (or it's so much easier to show, lol). This is what happens when you have a hubby who teaches TV Productions and analyzes film with his classes. I could paint the backstory in a few effective shots. Opening credits. I wrote the opening backstory scene as a prologue initially, but then it's kind of an awkward transition to the present in Ch.1.

Well, I haven't looked at it since the summertime. Maybe I'll reread it and inspiration will strike. I guess it's time to wake up my muse...

* Note from Lindsey's pen: Do not be fooled. Lindsey has never run a marathon, nor is she in any shape to do so.

Chapter Book Read Aloud Suggestions?

2010-10-18T17:56:00.000-07:00

If you've visited here pretty much ever (lol) you probably know that I teach first grade. And I can tell you that there are only two times during the day when first graders stop talking: snack and chapter book time.

I read lots of picture books to my class, usually at least two on any given day, but we also always have a running chapter book going on for discussions about characters and setting, predicting, thinking aloud, vocabulary, retelling, you name it. The kids get very invested in whatever book we are reading and can't wait each day until it is time to read the next chapter.

Now... I've been teaching first grade for thirteen years. Yep. Thirteen. So believe me when I say that there are some books that you just get sick of reading out loud. And everyone's tolerance is different. For example, I groan to myself every year when I pull out Charlotte's Web in the springtime, because it has 22 chapters and takes forever, and there is soooo much to explain to my sweet-but-completely-unfamiliar-with-farming-life children. But as soon as I start it, I love it. (We happen to be surrounded by farms, but many of my kids are new to the country and haven't experienced them yet. We read it before we go to a farm each May.) I can't tolerate Trumpet of the Swan. Ditto Mr. Popper's Penguins, which some teachers love. I also dislike The Boxcar Children (the latter two mainly because the language is very dated - or, in Mr. Popper's case, dated and British - and my class is comprised completely of children who do not speak English at home. They are learning basic English vocab, so throwing in language like that is very tough). I don't like Junie B. Jones, because my kids are just learning English grammar and she does not exactly model that (lol). I'm not a stick in the mud, I know she is silly. But there is also a lot of name-calling, which we don't allow, so she's not my character of choice.

I know, I know. I'm not reading them for me. But our curriculum does not specify which chapter books to read, it simply states the skills we should be working on during Read Alouds and lets us pick the books, so I try to pick books that I am really enthsiastic about because I know that the kids can tell. Oh yes. They know.

So. Which chapter books do I love reading to my kids? My Father's Dragon, The Hundred Dresses, Donovan's Word Jar, The One in the Middle is the Green Kangaroo, 26 Fairmount Avenue, The Stories Julian Tells. I also have a chaptery version of The Nutcracker that I love.

There are a bunch I think are ok and I read off and on different years - The Littles, Flat Stanley (I do read this every year, it's ok, but the Flat Stanley Project is awesome!), The Mouse and the Motorcycle, Meet Me at the Cucumbers, Ivy and Bean, Freckle Juice.

Early on in the year, I also read lots of beginning books from series that they will be reading independently by the end of the year, like Frog and Toad, Henry and Mudge, Iris and Walter, Mr. Putter and Tabby (lol, notice a theme here?), Poppleton, Nate the Great, Cam Jansen, etc.

So... I've read these books over and over and over and over and I am looking for some new ideas. Right now Tootsie Roll and I are reading a delightful new book called The Magical Ms. Plum by Bonny Becker, which sort of reminds me of a newer version of Mrs. Piggle Wiggle in that each child in Ms. Plum's class has his or her own personality (not all good, lol). Ms. Plum sends each of them to the supply closet at some point in the year and they return with an animal that ends up teaching them a lesson or rewarding them somehow based on their behavior. It's very cute and when we finish I may take it in to read to my class.

Anyone else have any suggestions for good chapter book Read Alouds with content appropriate for first graders? (I can explain vocab, but I don't like having to edit content as I read, especially since parents often pick these books up to read with the kids at home as well!).

Sunday Night Giggle

2010-10-17T16:41:00.000-07:00

I can't help but laugh when I watch this. If you have seen Les Mis, you'll be laughing too!

Otherwise Occupied

2010-10-16T16:44:00.000-07:00

I am, at the moment, supervising six very chatty third graders who are sleeping over for Tootsie Roll's birthday. They are supposedly watching a movie but I'm pretty sure they haven't heard a word of it. :)

Earlier today, my Girly Whirlies had candid pictures taken at dance class so we were allowed to add colorful tutus and hairdos to their usual black (Tootse Roll) and pink (Curly Jones). Fun!

Tired

2010-10-15T17:48:00.000-07:00

So tired. Long week at school. Tomorrow it's dance for the girls, then the rest of the weekend is Tootsie Roll's birthday party/sleepover. Fun times with a bunch of adorable third grade girls!!! :D

So tonight I am taking a break, going to jump in bed with my new book from Rebecca, The Garden of Eve. Looks so good - a sort of thoughtful, suspenseful fairy tale? Perfect for a very windy, possibly stormy night!

Scariest Movie Game

2010-10-14T18:10:00.000-07:00

I totally made this game up so I hope someone plays along, lol. I'm going to post the synopsis (mine is from IMDB) of the horror movie that scares me the most. Guess it, then post the synopsis of the one that scares you the most in your comment. The next person guesses yours in the comments and posts theirs and so on. GAME ON! Here's mine:

"A boy preacher named Isaac goes to a town in Nebraska called Gatlin and gets all the children to murder every adult in town. A young couple have a murder to report and they go to the nearest town (Gatlin) to seek help but the town seems deserted. They are soon trapped in Gatlin with little chance of getting out alive. "

Go for it! :)

Essential

2010-10-13T17:12:00.000-07:00

Today's post is a flash fiction response to this week's Sunday Scribblings prompt: essential

_________________________________________________

Mom stood in the doorway for a minute after she threw the duffle bag on my bed.

"Pack up. Only what's essential. You have ten minutes."

Her eyes traveled across my walls heavily, painting the room with sadness. She pressed her knuckles into them like a child, and I knew better than to sass her about the undersized pee wee soccer bag. She walked across the hall into her room and I looked around frantically. Where were we going to go? The apartment was small and dirty, but it was better than nothing, wasn't it? Why did we only have ten minutes?

I sat on my bed, grounding myself. I looked around the room in quadrants, trying to decide what was essential. Breathing steadily, I opened my dresser and took out underwear. Three pairs. One pair of jeans. Two shirts. Two pairs of socks. With what I had on, I'd have at least three of everything.

I moved back to the bed and considered my toothbrush. Favorite books. Pen. Notebook. Dance trophies. Brownie vest with all of the patches. My stuffed owl with the fuzz loved off in spots. Gold #1 Daughter charm my mom had given me on my twelfth birthday. My mom shouted. Three minutes.

_ _ _

My mom died of a drug overdose about three months later. We had been spending our nights in the basement of a church. No one knew we were there. My mom had stolen the key from the church office during a service. We kept the lights off. The morning I woke up next to her cold body was the last time I ever saw the place. I kissed her cheek and left her there. I figured they were her best chance for getting somewhere better in the next life, if there is one.

I still have the duffel bag. I zipped it up at home that day and haven't opened it since. I don't need to see what's inside to know it's there. When my countdown reached one minute, I threw all of the clothes out and stuffed in a photo album, the only one mom put together. It had a couple of wedding photos in it of her and my dad. The three of us sleepy-eyed one Christmas morning. My first and second birthdays, before Dad left. The pages after that are empty.

I didn't know where I was going, and turns out it wouldn't be the last time. But essential was where I'd been. Where we'd been. Together.

We Shall Entice You with Contesty Goodness

2010-10-12T18:18:00.000-07:00

I dropped a hint recently that a contest is in the works. This one is going to be a joint endeavor with one of my mostest favoritist writerly bloggers (who I met through another contest - win!) and possibly a third writerly blogger....ly as well! We are plotting and planning and rubbing our hands together and planning our little graphic to roll things out as we speak. We are celebrating some exciting Follower milestones (you there! The 300.... almost! Ok, it will not be into the valley of death with you. I promise something a smidge more appealing). We were going to try to get it in before Halloween (read: before everyone's life goes into NaNo blackout) but we're writing for Hannah's contest and people are already NaNoPlotting, so we decided to wait until early December when you are ~~so exhausted that you're easy to push around~~ ready for something a little more lighthearted and a whole lot less stressful. And there will be PRIZES! We are hoping to roll out the announcement next week and then really light the fire after NaNo.

Speaking of NaNo... good luck to all of you crazy brilliant awesome hermits-to-be! (For anyone who has happened upon The Dange and isn't familiar, NaNoWriMo is the totally tonguetwisty nickname for National Novel Writing Month. The goal is to write a 50,000 word novel. In the month of November. It takes place annually, anyone can sign up, join write-ins, get support, guzzle coffee, go on a social blackout, alienate all of your friends except fellow NaNoites, scream, pull out your hair, stay up all night, take days off from work, and WRITE YOUR BUTT OFF. It's not supposed to be a good novel... it's supposed to kick you into high gear and get enough writing done that you can turn it into a good novel with some mega revision and editing once the month is over. Or you could write "All work and no play make Jack a dull boy" over and over until you hit 50,000 words. You'd still win, but it wouldn't be nearly as fun as commisserating with fellow NaNoites about writer's block and characters that won't cooperate and the fact that your favorite coffee flavor doesn't come out until December when you really need it for NaNo.)

Hey, wow. I allllmost convinced myself to do NaNo just then! I have done it twice before and failed miserably. I just don't have the time with teaching and the kids and parent conferences and hosting Thanksgiving. Excuses, excuses, right? If I had a decent story idea, I might. consider it. a little bit. maybe. But I don't really, seeing as I just shelved my WiP and nothing is dying to come out at the moment. So I'm planning to give myself a break this year and hope maybe next year. But I will miss the chaos and fun with my writing buddies. Have fun, you guys!! I will be cheering you on like the crazy goth cheerleader who totally doesn't belong but does it for just that reason! LOVE you guys! Break a pencil! :D

Columbus. It's Complicated.

2010-10-11T18:17:00.000-07:00

If Christopher Columbus had a Facebook status, it would be "It's Complicated."

Why? When I first started teaching, 13 years ago, it was all "Columbus discovered America! Hooray!"

Somehow since then, the sentiment even in elementary school has become a more cautious "Columbus wanted to find a new, faster route to the Indies, but he bumped into the Americas by accident. When he got there, he thought he had reached the Indies, so he called the people Indians. So, really, the Native Americans that he called Indians were here first, but Columbus let the rest of the world know that they were here. Got that?" (To complicate things further, try telling this to a class of 6 year olds comprised mostly of Indian children. From India.) A lot more complicated, if also a lot more accurate.

(We won't talk about the day when we tell them that Pocahontas' true story did not end quite like the Disney movie). Although we don't get into this in first grade, some people - adults, presumably - take a bit more disgruntled approach to Columbus.

So. Christopher Columbus. Hero? Villain? Something in between? There are two sides to every story.

In the musical Wicked, Elphaba (the Wicked Witch) calls the Wizard out for being a phony and not a wizard at all. He replies that the people of Oz gave him the name Wonderful (as in Wonderful Wizard of Oz), so he just went with it. He's trying to convince her that she can do the same.

WIZARD

I never asked for this

Or planned it in advance

I was merely blown here

By the winds of chance
I never saw myself

As a Solomon or Socrates

I knew who I was:

One of your dime a dozen

Mediocrities

Then suddenly I'm here

Respected - worshipped, even

Just because the folks in Oz

Needed someone to believe in

Does it surprise you

I got hooked, and all too soon?

What can I say?

I got carried away

And not just by balloon:

Wonderful

They called me "Wonderful"

So I said "Wonderful" - if you insist

I will be "Wonderful"

And they said "Wonderful"

Believe me, it's hard to resist

'Cause it feels wonderful

They think I'm wonderful

Hey, look who's wonderful -

This corn-fed hick

Who said: "It might be keen

To build a town of green

And a wonderful road of yellow brick!"

(spoken) See - I never had a family of my own. So, I

guess I just - wanted to give the citizens of Oz everything.

ELPHABA(spoken) So you lied to them.

WIZARD

(spoken) Elphaba, where I'm from, we believe all sorts of

things that aren't true. We call it - "history."

(sung) A man's called a traitor - or liberator

A rich man's a thief - or philanthropist

Is one a crusader - or ruthless invader?

It's all in which label

Is able to persist

There are precious few at ease

With moral ambiguities

So we act as though they don't exist

They call me "Wonderful"

So I am wonderful

In fact - it's so much who I am

It's part of my name

And with my help, you can be the same.

Is he wonderful? Terrible? Perception is a funny thing, and a lot of books like Wicked have been cashing in on telling very compelling "other sides" of the story. Giving the traditional villain the chance to be heard and the backstory to explain why deeds perceived as evil may not have been that at all, or may have been misunderstood, or may even have been forced by the traditional hero. A while back, before I started this blog, I was working on a WiP in that genre. My Columbus lessons today made me think of it.

A good story is more complicated than good guy/bad guy. Thoughts?

I'm in Love!

2010-10-10T12:55:00.000-07:00

Totally infatuated with my new Canon Rebel. HH and the girls gave it to me for my birthday back in August but I just got a memory card for it, and it was the perfect fall day to be outside taking pictures! I have never used anything but a point and shoot, so I know n-o-t-h-i-n-g about using this camera yet and all of the amazing features it has, but even what I was able to take today has me head over heels!

Wooohooo! Can't wait how to actually learn more about using it!

Happy Dancing!

2010-10-09T16:54:00.000-07:00

Today I opened my mailbox to happiness and joy! Inside was a box from Rebecca at Sonshine Thoughts. A happy box. A wondrous box. A box full of luuuuuv! Last month I came in third in her flash fiction contest based on the adorable book Be Happy That... and LOOK at this loot!

I GOT MY OWL!!!!! :D You have no idea how happy I am. No idea. No, no you don't. Stop thinking that you do. She sent the book from which she got her contest prompts, Be Happy That..., which I read immediately and it is hysterical. The Garden of Eve sounds spooky and enchanting and delicious. The cover art is gorgeous (I know you can't see it well on my desk there). And, look! Revision & Self-Editing! To revise & self-edit, I need a working WiP. Which means maybe I'll get my butt in gear and start another one.
The owlicious lunchbox (!!!) and the cutie little windup seal (the ball on top spins and he slides!) were super sekrit surprises. Thank you, Rebecca!!!

Wait... one more pic...

This is the upper tier (like a shelf) of my writing desk. On the right are books and owly bookends. On the left are a zebra head and a porcelain angel - dollar store Mother's Day gifts from my girls (my favorite things, because I love that they go into the store with HH and pick WHATEVER they want to buy and are so proud to give it to me). In the middle is Sad Robot, who I got at Philly Comic Con (the hand-sketched comic he came with was pretty lame but that's ok because I am not much of a comic reader; I just fell in love with the handmade stuffed felt Sad Robot). On Sad Robot's left, very small, is a Play Doh rendition of Daphne from Scooby Doo made by Tootsie Roll. And now Sad Robot is hugging the owly friend he has been waiting for!
LOVE! Thanks again, Rebecca!

Why We Do What We Do

2010-10-08T19:22:00.000-07:00

Today, out on the playground, I told one of my first graders that he needed to tie his shoe. He has had trouble tying it so far, so I added that I could help him and asked if he's been practicing at home. His face lit up. He said, "YES! AND I GOT IT! WANNA SEE?" I watched him very slowly and determinedly tie his shoe with an extremely furrowed brow, so full of concentration. When he was done, he beamed and I gave him a big hug and told him how proud I was. Then he went off to play.

It was one of those moments that reminded me why I teach, why the little ones, and how much I love it. You can absolutely physically see when they finally meet success at something with which they have struggled. They just exude pride and excitement. (You should see them when they realize that they can read!)

So it got me thinking about why I write. I have thought about this a lot in the past few months, since I haven't had a whole lot of time to write, and I really haven't been beating myself up over it. And I realized that I haven't been beating myself up because I don't really write to get published. (Oh yes I did. I said that.) Now, I know that the holy grails that most of us writerly bloggers are going for are agent representation and publication. It's why we pay attention to details and join SCWBI and peruse editors' blogs and do crazy things like locking out life for a month to try to achieve 50,000 words during NaNovember. Have I been serious about wanting to be published in the past? Yes. Will I keep up my subscriptions and keep my ear to the floor in publishing circles? Yes, because I think it's good to pay attention and I don't want to get lazy should I decide to step up my game. I'm not opposed to publication (now that just sounds crazy) but as wonderful as that would be, if I'm being honest, it's really not my main goal at the moment.

I write for two main reasons:

1. I write for release.
I spend my days with noisy little guys. I love it, but there is not a moment of quiet or down time all day long, and then I come home to little ones. Writing allows me some peace. My shoulders relax. My brain is allowed to wander to places that are a little bit darker, a little more foreboding, a little less rated E for Everyone. My writing isn't graphic, but there is a big difference between YA and age 6, lol. It reminds me that I am a grownup with more complex thoughts and ideas, and it allows me time when nothing looks like a lesson plan telling me what I need to do next, but instead the world is mine to create, unfurl, quickly or slowly. I am not responsible to or for anyone else when I write.

2. I write for my children.
Maybe it's all the "dead body shows" (Handsome Hubby's phrase) I watch, like Forensic Files, but I have this weird need to put part of me on paper for my kids. And I don't mean that I actually even write about myself, but I want to give them an idea of who I am through what I write. Where my mind wanders. What I was really like when they were 8 and 3. I have a terrible memory and I don't remember what my mom was like when I was that age. (My mom, for the record, is still very much alive and well, lol - Hi, Mom!) Could I ask her? Sure. Easily. But what I'm trying to capture isn't what you can tell a person through stories about when they were young or what you can see in a photograph. When my girls are adults with young kids of their own, I want them to know what weird, interesting things were spinning through my own head at this time in my life. Things that I won't even remember next week if I don't write them down, because they're figments of my imagination.

So... that's why I teach, and that's why I write.

Why do you do what you do?

Scattered

2010-10-07T18:53:00.000-07:00

I'm feeling very scattered today. There are papers everywhere - the girls both have photo orders for school and both for dance, Tootsie Roll has to take in snack for her Brownie meeting tomorrow but we both work so we can't even get there for the meeting (she can, it's right after school in the building), her birthday party is coming, I have patches to sew on her Brownie vest, somehow have to figure out how to make a Violet Baudelaire costume, nut and magazine sales for Brownies, wrapping paper and chocolate sales for school, rehearsals for a school event, I'm in the midst of changing over the girls' clothing in their closets and drawers from summer to fall/winter so there are clothes everywhere to sort and store, and my principal just recently told us we have to start handing in lesson plans two weeks in advance (which is asinine, because within 3 days first graders have veered from the plan anyway).

I prioritize. I make lists. I organize. I filter and give away and recycle. I try to minimize, but I bring a lot of work home so I don't have much time and things do pile up.

So this is me saying... Um, yeah. This counts as my blog post for today. Lol :) I threw "scattered" into Google and got some interesting pics...

Most of those look too neatly scattered. :)

Scariest Childhood Memory

2010-10-06T17:56:00.000-07:00

Children view the world in a very different way than adults. If you've ever read the picture book Shortcut by Donald Crews, or seen the movie Stand By Me (I mention the movie since I haven't read Stephen King's novella The Body upon which it is based), you know what I mean. When you experience a truly scary event as a child, it's like putting a pin in your life map. Whether or not it was earth-shattering, you view it with a somber seriousness, a memory you don't really kid about. Children don't have the world experience to put events into perspective - how serious was it? Was it really as terrifying as it seemed at that moment?

In Shortcut, Crews tells a story about being warned by Big Mama not to take the shortcut home, but the kids do anyway. They are fooling around on the train tracks, have to decide whether to turn back and go the right way, and they decide to go on with the shortcut. Of course, the train comes, and the children have a very close call. It's very edge-of-your-seat for little guys, with the train KLICKETY-KLAKing closer and closer (the font gets bigger and bigger, it's great). Once the train goes past, they complete their journey in silence. They don't ever talk about it. And they never. Take the shortcut. Again.

Stand By Me is a coming of age story about four best friends who go searching for the dead body of a boy killed by a train. The story is more about the journey, but once they find it, the movie comes to a close by describing their lives afterward, what happened to each of the boys as they grew up, etc. Their lives are sort of forever divided into Before The Body and After The Body.

My scariest childhood memory doesn't have anything to do with bodies or close calls with trains, but I can tell you that when and after it happened, it was more serious to a 9 or 10 year old me than anything.

At the time, we were living in a rowhome (aka townhouse, houses that are attached on both sides to other houses). Our house was right next to the corner house. About halfway down across the street lived friends of our family. Their house was for sale. They were getting ready to move and my mom and younger sister and I had walked down from our house to visit. They didn't have any children my age, so I got bored and decided to go home.

On the way home, a man that I had never seen before came up to me. He asked me if I had ever been in the house that was for sale. I don't know if he had seen me come out of the house, but I said yes. He asked me how many bedrooms and bathrooms it had, and I told him. He asked me if I lived nearby. Now, at this moment, I was honestly thinking that he was trying to find out if I lived in a similar house so I knew what I was talking about, but a warning went off in my head and I just said, "Yeah, down there," and waved in the general direction of my house. He nodded and kept walking down the street. I ran to my end but did actually have the sense not to let him watch me go into my house. I think I just hung out outside for a while.

My mom and sister came home later and didn't mention any man coming to look at our friends' house, so I began to get scared. I kept replaying the scene in my head over and over to decide if I had given him too much information. That night, I listened to every little creak in the house and couldn't sleep.

I guess I did fall asleep eventually. When I woke up in the morning, I was still nervous, but it was a bright, sunny day, and nothing had happened during the night. I wondered if I had gotten myself too worked up. I went downstairs. Our stairs led right to the front door, so if you were coming down, you had a view out the little windows in the door. I stopped short on the stairs when I saw him.

The man from the day before was sitting on our front steps. Just sitting there. I ran to get my mom and I asked her if she knew who he was. She didn't. I remember her frowning and looking out the window but not going outside. Eventually, he got up and left.

We never saw him again, but I spent probably the next entire month of my life sick to my stomach with terror. I thought for sure that the guy was going to do something to us or to our friends down the street and I couldn't tell anyone what had happened because if someone got killed it would have been my fault. Try living with that on a 9 yr old conscience! Our friends moved soon after, and I was so relieved, but then I worried about the people who moved in. I didn't stop worrying until more than a year later when we also moved. WHEW!

This story just reminded me of another scary thing that happened when I was even younger. We lived in a big house, just my mom and my sisters and me (before the rowhome). The deck off of our kitchen was a full story from the ground, so it had a full flight of wooden steps to the ground. One night, I had to be maybe 5? 6? 7? I went to the kitchen in the dark to get something. I heard a creak on the deck stairs. I turned on the light and looked out the window in the kitchen door. A man was coming up the deck stairs in the dark. When he saw the light come on and my face look out of the curtain, he stopped, about halfway up the steps, waved at me, then turned and went back down the steps and then he was gone. Spooky!!!!

Do you have any scary childhood memories?

Something's Brewing...

2010-10-05T17:50:00.000-07:00

... and it's a contest! I meant to host a contest when I jumped back into blogging after my summer hiatusish, to celebrate coming back and to drum some interest back up in these parts (thanks to my awesome bloggy friends who came back even though I haven't given you stuff, lol!). Of course, then school started, and anyone who either has small children or teaches small children knows that someone who both has them AND teaches them is a little crazed in the month of September. What can I say, I sometimes bite off more than I can chew. BUT... I am nearing 300 followers (WHAT!?!?!!!) which totally blows my mind, so we definitely need to dance the happy dance with some fabulous prizes. I think I want to have a writing contest this time, because I have had an absolute BLAST with the ones I entered this year and each one has pushed me a little further into something I haven't written before. So now I want to read what you've got up your writing sleeves! I'm thinking on it. Will keep you posted. (Perhaps after 9 girls sleep over this weekend for Tootsie Roll's bday...)

Something is also NOT brewing. I am currently WiP-less. *blink* *blink* *crickets*

It's true. I have shelved my most recent WiP since the voice just wasn't there. I still like the story idea but I need to put it away and come back to it with fresh eyes. I am enjoying the challenge of flash fiction right now and finding that smaller writing exercises are really working better for me at the moment. I feel like a flower blooming, but one tiny petal at a time. Each small piece that I write is teaching me something new and the entire process has been really helpful in focusing on important words. I also have four books on writing (including On Writing) that have been sitting on my writing desk shelf for the past few months begging to be opened. With my schedule, I find that I have maybe an hour at night to read or to write, but not really both. So I think I will crack open those books and let my newest idea (which is just a wisp, a hatchling) simmer, keep chipping away at flash fic, and hone a little bit.

"No, Handsome Hubby, I can't watch Castle right now, I'm honing..." :)

This Could Have Been Lame But It Isn't

2010-10-04T20:58:00.000-07:00

So... it's 11:47pm and I haven't posted yet. It's ok, I was playing with my kids earlier this evening, and then working on my horror piece. But I refuse to fail NaBlo on day 4 (omigosh, sad) by not posting. So instead of rubbing my tired eyes and blabbing about something just for the sake of it, I'm going to share with you some of my mostest favoritist art prints and send you to Johanna Wright's website, where you can find more of her precious prints. I have the first two and will definitely be back for more!

Ukelele Days

Under the Weeds

Winning

Midnight Picnic

Gretel's Revenge

Even Giants Fall in Love

A Much Better Castle

I am so in love with Johanna Wright's art. Go see more!

Oh, the Horror!

2010-10-03T18:08:00.000-07:00

I have never written horror before but I got the idea for my flash fiction entry for Horror at Hannah's last night while Handsome Hubby and I were watching The Crazies (which was actually a better movie than I thought it would be). My story really has nothing at all to do with the movie, so I'm not sure what about it triggered my idea. Weird what your subconscious picks up on. Anyway, now I just have to write the thing and see if I can actually pull off something decently scary.

In the meantime, here are a few pics to inspire your own scary stories...

eek...

Actual 1930's/40's Halloween costumes

Eastern State Penitentiary in PA. I haven't been there but they do tours and host Terror Behind the Walls each year at Halloween. You pretty much could not pay me enough.

Halloween Costumes

2010-10-02T18:22:00.000-07:00

My children, like all children, are fickle when it comes to Halloween costumes. We have an adorable Madeline costume that Tootsie Roll wore when she was little (well, littler than she is now, lol) that fits Curly Jones perfectly. She loves to dress up in it (and dress her rocking horse in it) but she doesn't want to use it for Halloween.

So when she decided that she wanted to be "Mickey Mouse Clubhouse", I foolishly bought her a Minnie Mouse costume... that she enjoys dressing up in, but does not want to use for Halloween.

Now, I'm a nice mom and all, but I do draw the line at buying one costume per child per Halloween. So she can choose one of these, or one of her ballet outfits from dance class, or one of the umpteen million costumes in the two giant dressup bins in our playroom. Suffer. :)

Tootsie Roll is another story. She has always wanted to be something unusual for Halloween. When every one of her preschool friends was being a Disney princess, she would pick Madeline or "a pumpkin witch". Last year, she had about a million places to dress up for Halloween. She had her parade at school, a party next door, a masquerade ball at my school, and also got to dress up during Halloween week at both of her dance classes. All that and we didn't even have to buy a costume... she wore the Snow White one we had bought for our trip to Disney last summer and made costumes out of stuff we had for all of the other events:

For school and here with her dance teacher (who we didn't know would also be Snow White lol)

For dance class #2 and our neighbor's party - her Easter dress and my wedding veil

By Halloween night she was bored of her other costumes and came up with the chef outfit on the fly. We had a kiddie cooking hat and apron, so she decided to splash it with spaghetti sauce and draw on a moustache. Curly Jones was a ladybug. :)

This year, my voracious little reader is currently on Book 11 of The Series of Unfortunate Events and wants to be Violet Baudelaire for Halloween. Now, I can't say I blame the kid. She's a pretty cool character and I wish I could dress like her every single day:

The costume designer on the movie was Colleen Atwood, who also designed the costumes for Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland movie. I can't say I was a huge fan of the movie itself (I am an Alicephile, I was disappointed) but her wardrobe alone was worth watching:

So here we are, trying to figure out how to create Violet when I can't sew. Any ideas?

Moooooo! Willems, That is.

2010-10-01T14:55:00.000-07:00

Let NaBloWriMo begin! It's October 1st and the goal is a post every day this month. Rock & roll!

Last night Mo Willems launched his third in the Knuffle Bunny trifecta, Knuffle Bunny Free, at our local B&N.

They started handing out wristbands (to acquire one, you had to conveniently buy his new book) at 9am for the 6:30pm event. For those of us who do this extremely inconvenient thing called WORK, a giant wrinkled nose in B&N's direction. By the time I got out of work, picked up and fed my kids, and zoomed the half hour there, it was 5:30. Needless to say, it was standing room only, and not even behind the seating area, I'm talking back in the book bays between shelves. Where you couldn't see anything. BUT we did get to hear Mo read and answer a few questions before we stood in line for an hour and a half waiting for his signature. Luckily for us, he was also signing any books you brought along from home (which is probably why the line took so long, lol), so we got the first two signed as well.

Curly Jones waiting for Mo - The kids got to dress in pj's and bring stuffed friends. She was so excited to show "Serious George" a whole endcap dedicated to him!

This was my momentary blurry view of Mo... behind a million people... between bookshelves. For most of his short talk, he was over more to the left, completely obstructed to me by the bookshelf. Darn bookshelf in a bookstore. Sheesh. This blurry photo reminds me of Sasquatch. Like... snapped in the one tiny moment I actually saw him from afar...

Tootsie Roll falling asleep between bookshelves. We were actually stuck between the bookshelves from 6:00 to about 8:15 when they FINALLY got to our part of the line for signatures. Good times.

Tootsie Roll with a life-sized Knuffle Bunny. Yeah, um.... in Holland. You have to read the book. ;)

Curly Jones, who I assure you was not quite this happy for the entire 2 hours.

Mo! Finally!

Mo! Signing our books! WOOOHOOOOOO! He was incredibly patient and sweet even though he was winding down nearly 2 hours of signing. Tootsie Roll gave him a 3-pg (single spaced, 24 font) story that she wrote about Trixie and Knuffle Bunny. He thought that was great!

So it was long, and not super fun until the very end... but it was worth it. :) Yay, Mo!

Um.... September Fools!

2010-09-29T19:30:00.000-07:00

Ok, so you blinked and I changed my template back to the old one. I'm not a superstitious soul, but I have seriously been in a writing funk since I changed my template a few weeks ago. Seriously. It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I don't even sit down at my writing desk until after a full day of teaching, picking up kids, dinner, homework, baths, if we're lucky a little playtime, reading, bedtimes, laundry... you name it. Because, really, everyone else's life is super busy, too. So clearly it was the new template, right?

So anyway, here we are kids, back to the old, and it feels like a pair of comfortable shoes. Ahhhhhh. Yes, the text is squished, I guess it's a necessary evil. And we're all about evil over here at Le Dangerous, anyway, so rock on.

SPEAKING OF EVIL... two exciting things going on to get my stagnant and algae-covered writing juices flowing!!! Join me if you will for... Horror at Hannah's , a flash fiction horror contest, woooooo!

(Don't ask me why my button is not working, just click on the text link above while I fret)

AND

NaBloWriMo

which is a challenge to blog each and every day in October (before the soul crushing NaNo begins in November! By the way, NaNo's 2010 site launch goes live by the end of this week! GAAAHHH!)
So now I have no excuses not to be writing. (Especially now that my broken molar is fixed and I am once again able to savor delicious, idea-inducing chocolate!) Right? RIGHT?!?!?! K, kids... see ya there!

So..... What's New?

2010-09-28T19:02:00.000-07:00

Hey happy blog readers. :) It's good to dip a toe in over here. This month has been crazy with getting all 4 of us back into the swing in our respective schools, Back to School Nights, Girl Scout camp, dance starting (Curly Jones' first year! Tootsie Roll is an old pro), and Tootsie Roll's birthday. Which meant I had to clean the house so family could come over. I do think I should make a monthly family party mandatory in my home, it really would make me scrub a lot more often. :)

Tootsie Roll turned 8 today (HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY BEAUTY CUTIE!) and it has been festivity central, including this out-of-this-world Greek Goddess cake created by my multitalented sister in law:

Here were Tootsie Roll and Curly Jones on party day:

It's pretty rare that they dress alike, so I had to have plenty of pictures. For posterity. And perhaps future blackmail. :)

Nothing is new on the writing front. Sadly, I reread the WiP that has been lingering listlessly in its infancy over there on the right with a totally stagnant status bar, and I have pretty much lost interest in it. I mean, I think it has potential, but it is lacking in voice. It's going to need to be started over and I don't have the energy to revive it just now. I do have a little wisp of a new idea dancing around in my head. I think I may just write a scene or two that are bouncing around in my brain and see what happens. I don't have anything plotted out yet, but I have found that plotting before writing is my worst enemy. I am better at going with the flow because I tend to plot too hard and overanalyze and overwhelm myself right out of writing the thing. We'll see what happens... October may be a better writing month once school routines are settled as they are becoming. I'd love to take a real crack at NaNo, but November is hard because of all the school assessments and conferences and we host Thanksgiving. 50,000 words is hard in a good month, lol, and November is not a good writing month. But never say never... so I'll say we'll see instead.

Otherwise, I am hearing from some of the people who know me well that this new blog layout is not me and they want the old one back. Ha! I am sort of feeling that, too... I like that I have more writing space and I've tried this new one to help me out of my writing funk, but it doesn't fit me as nicely as my old one did. So you may see the return of the striped socks soon. We'll see about that, too. :)

Anyway, I taught my first graders to use periods as stop signs at the end of sentences today, so at least someone is writing productively! ;)

Distress Call to My Lost Muse

2010-09-20T18:12:00.000-07:00

Exhausted but Happy Dancing!

2010-09-19T19:02:00.000-07:00

This weekend was Tootsie Roll's first overnight camping trip with her Brownie troop, so they asked all the moms to go along, too. Totally enjoyable, we had the best time, canoeing, hiking, cooking, sleeping in a YURT (best word ever... it looks like this:)

Absolutely perfect weather, and great quality time with my big girl. I am now exhausted and just finished my lesson plans for the week, but before I hit the hay (to get the decent night's sleep I missed last night, lol), I have to share some big, exciting news!

Tootsie Roll has been selected as one of three children from her third grade class (along with, I imagine, some kids from the other 3 third grade classes) to get pulled out of her Language Arts period once a week for a Poetry Enrichment class. They made their selections based on teacher recommendations and early writing samples. It was pretty funny, she brought home this very official letter addressed to us that explained the program and we had to go over it with her (it basically said that it's pretty rigorous work, miss two assignments and you're out, plus you have to make up the LA work you miss in class) and we all had to sign it, her included. I think she thought she was in trouble until we read it because no one had told her what it was, poor kid!

WOOHOO for my talented little writer! I am so proud of her! (And I didn't even know this program existed in her school, so rock on!)

Flash Fiction Fun

2010-09-13T19:16:00.000-07:00

Here is the flash fiction I entered in Rebecca's contest. It's the first one I ever wrote, so I am loving her for kicking me into high ff gear with the possibilities of owly goodness (which are now coming my way, woooot!). Anyway, I wrote it while Handsome Hubby was away, and it was 2am, and I couldn't sleep. And my love of flash fiction was born. *swoon* Anyway. :) She gave a variety of prompts to choose from, and I chose Be Glad That Your Neighbor Isn't a Cannibal. How awesome is she? So anyway. Here it is.

Different palates appeal to different people. It’s only natural. Some people don’t like anchovies. Some people love to mix peanut butter and chocolate. Some people are vegetarians. I guess you could call me a humanitarian.

Evil tastes good. Oh come on, it may be crass, but it’s just so spicy. Tangy. Tasty. Good people just taste bland. Back when my tastes moved toward people, I started with homeless, runaways… people who wouldn’t be missed. When I became more skilled, I told myself it was only right to consume those who brought darkness to the world. Yeah, it was my way of rationalizing a bad habit, like an alcoholic. But when the glossy Shady Acres mailing arrived yesterday… oh, it was just too easy. So much evil. Old, slow evil that has marinated for so long… Acres and acres of shady folks with their guards down…

Cru

Living here has been good for me. Shady Acres is… an “active adult community” (chuckle) not exactly the type of place you’d expect to find someone like me, but I guess that’s part of its draw. There comes a point in life, when you get to my age, where the legacy that you have worked a lifetime to build becomes too heavy a mantle. When you no longer have the energy or the desire to dye your hair or trudge around in fur coats, but after creating that persona, you can’t exactly throw it all away by showing up at the local SafeWay in sweatpants. Excuse the dramatics, but if you haven’t walked in my shoes, I can only compare the weight of carrying a legacy to the burden of Atlas. At some point, you just want to let the gray hair grow and sit around in slippers drinking tea rather than chasing fool puppies.

The best thing about Shady Acres is that once you’re in, you’re in. If you can get your application past this board, you are certified, bona fide evil. Your place is permanently etched in villainry, which means that you don’t have to go proving yourself to anyone else in here. We’ve got that hag with the poisoned apple, the fella who rode round Sleepy Hollow waving his head around, you name it. And none of us traipses around in our old fool villainous getups or puts on a show. We look more like early bird time at your local diner. And no one cares. Like I said. We’ve all made it. Nothing to prove, and no energy left to prove anything, anyway.

I remember you, you’re that crazy dalmation lady. With the name – De Mille? De Ville? The director or the car, I forget. Doesn’t matter. Anyone who skins puppies has to have the spice I’m looking for. This real estate lady here, showing me around, is pointing to each house and telling me who lives there, but what I’m hearing is each brand of evil and what I’m seeing is a buffet – but instead of veal, lamb, chicken, it’s theft, murder, and… whatever you’d call skinned puppies. I wonder for a moment if she notices the crazed look in my eye when she moves on to each tender new morsel, tempting my taste buds with one depravity after the other. But no, crazy eyes are the norm around here. I almost squeal with glee! There are a few empty houses, but they are going fast. Which perversion would you like to live next to, sir?

Mal

A week after I got the Shady Acres brochure in the mail, I put my dilapidated old castle on the market and my plan in motion. I’d only been hanging onto that place for sentimental reasons, anyway, you know? It was way too big for one person. Besides, we’re in a recession, don’t you know? The heating bills alone were ruining me. It’s not like I cared about that stupid princess anymore, but I had to keep putting on the show with the raven and the blasted horned headpiece. Did anyone really think that after 16 years, I was still hung up on not getting invited to her christening? Yes, they probably did. You cannot possibly underestimate the conceit of royalty.

It was so easy, the whole spindle thing got the princess out of the way. I have to admit, it was fun becoming the dragon after all those years of creating that image in my head for my final bow, but have they really stopped teaching princes to actually check to make sure that dragons are dead when they fall over a cliff? I mean, really. It was almost too easy to slink away while he basked in his perfectly coiffed glory and ran off to kiss her. So here I am, finally able to relax, at last.

Mmm, lobster bisque…

The Microest of Fiction

2010-09-12T18:51:00.000-07:00

I am pretty new at flash fiction, having written my first two pieces for contests within the past month and two others in the same month. I love the challenge of paring down your words to the most crucial needed to tell the story. Microfiction, on the other hand, just a sentence or two, is still too dangerous even for me. :)

So when we found out that Mo Willems is coming to our local B&N to promote Knuffle Bunny Free, the third in his ADORABLE Knuffle Bunny picture book series that Tootsie Roll and I LOVE, we were even more excited to find that two children will win autographed copies. To enter, you must submit either an original drawing or a 50 word essay on who will be Trixie's best friend once her beloved stuffed Knuffle Bunny "goes free".

So Tootsie Roll decided to do the essay, and sat down at the computer. She just started 3rd grade and is, of course, a ridiculously good word processor, and it helps that she can spell like a champ. I left the room for a bit, and by the time I came back, she had written 7 pages. SEVEN. PAGES. Of course, it was in some crazy font size like 36, but still. It was a great, touching, adorable story. I hated to explain to her that 50 words is like.... nothing, but I told her we could edit it and give the full version to Mo when we go to his signing. (See that, I all called him Mo, like we're BFFs).

(For the record, I am totally Han. Mo is totes Chewy.) So she took it to her room, and started to cross things out, and I think she took out something like 10 words on the entire first page. Then it got quiet. Then she came walking into my room and said, "Mom, I just counted the words, and 50 words is like... a quarter of one page" (this being in the slightly smaller size 24 font).

So we went back to square one and started writing from scratch. Turns out 50 words is a whole 6 sentences. Man, it was HARD to convey an idea in 6 sentences!!! Thank goodness she is a voracious reader and a blossoming little writer, she managed 50 words on the nose. It will probably only make sense if you have read the first 2 books, but here it is:

When Knuffle Bunny went free, TRIXIE REALIZED SOMETHING. She needed a new best friend. She went directly to her friend Sonja, who she knew would understand. Sonja’s Knuffle Bunny was missing, too! The girls set out to find the bunnies and found a best friendship instead. “Thank you,” Trixie said.

Mo is coming at 6:30pm but we have to get in line at 9am to get wristbands for the event. For reals. B&N is not messin' around. GOOD LUCK, T-ROLL!!!

Change Has Come to the Danger Zone!

2010-09-11T18:41:00.000-07:00

Ok, go ahead, tell me how non-Dangerous my new template looks.

Go on. I can take it.

But remember that true danger lurks with ninjalike stealth behind a friendly facade so that no one sees it coming. (Why do you think I am a first grade teacher by day?)

Anyway, I needed a change. I like the modliness of this template, it relieves the squoosh that was bugging me, and if you scroll down to the video of Suzanne Collins reading from Mockingjay, you can see with what biggitude videos show up here. Win!

(Ok, I have to get used to it. But I like it. :) )

Change is in the Air...

2010-09-11T13:45:00.001-07:00

Looking around for a new blog template. I love this one, but having the text all smooshed in the middle bugs me sometimes. I haven't found one yet that I've fallen in love with, but I guess it'll be pretty easy to figure out when I do! ;)

Back to Life

2010-09-08T18:09:00.000-07:00

... Back to reality, back to the here and now, oh yeah...

(Ok, if you are not 30+ like me, you probably did not just start singing along with Soul II Soul just then, but I bet a few of you did!)

School started this week, and it's kind of like when you wind up one of those little kiddie toys that walks around, and at first they walk all crazy and in circles and superfastlikethey'regoingtofalldown, then they start to slow down and straighten out. Yeah. The first days of first grade are kind of like that. ;) The kids are awesome, they are so darn cute and excited to be there, and they all want to tell you everything that has ever happened in their entire lives, meanwhile you are trying to teach them where to hang their backpacks while a new child walks in that is not even on your roster and only two children in your entire class speak English at home (although only three of my students don't speak any English). Bus numbers are mixed up, and not one kid has memorized the 85-digit lunch numbers these poor kids are given. But they are sweet and happy and ready to learn, so who can argue with that. :)

Meanwhile, my own children have started third grade and preschool, so the mountains of paperwork and preparation that comes along with those are literally sucking the numbers right off of my clock, sending me packing lunches into the wee hours after I complete my own lesson plans based on what we actually did and did not get to in the first two days.

The mega, mountainous amounts of fun I've had in the past month entering my first two blogfests (with my first two attempts at flash fiction ever) have boosted my confidence, introduced me to the absolute joy of flash fiction, and led me to many new writer blogs that I didn't know about since I slacked all summer. Now that it's Sept and our lives are totally crazy again, it's probably ironically likely that I'll get back to blogging on a much more regular basis, since everything is back to a schedule and blogging is something I try to work in since it's like a little stress reliever. Hopefully I'll hit up another blogfest soon (I know there are a million going on right now) when the windup toy begins to calm down (which, in first grade, is pretty much never, but maybe a smidge by week 2 or 3). Hope everyone is doing great, I've missed all my bloggy friends and can't wait to catch up with you again!

OH, and sidenote: MOCKINGJAY. HOLY CROW. I stayed up till 2am one night to finish it. And I cried. INSANE is that Susanne Collins. I hardly read anything over again and I could have started right back at the beginning of The Hunger Games the next day. I may have to do another whole post because I'm too beat right now to do it justice!

Same Words, New Perspective: Lost Generation

2010-09-02T20:24:00.001-07:00

The Perfect Day

2010-09-01T19:07:00.000-07:00

Today was our first day back at school. Which gave me a big headache, LOL. :) But yesterday was the perfect last day of summer vacation, so I am a happy girl.

I was SUPER excited to find out that my story is a finalist in Emily White's fairy tale blogfest! It is my first blogfest and I am very new at writing flash fiction, so I have a ton to learn and I could not possibly have gotten more encouraging news. :) There are five finalists and you can vote on your favorite one here. Emily has linked the five stories but you can also go back to the post before that and read all 43 awesome entries! You can vote until the 6th. I think there is a pretty clear front runner, and it isn't me, but that's totally cool since just being nominated has me floating on air, so I'm not asking that you vote for me, just enjoy reading them all and vote for whatever you like. :)

So after I got that great news, we spent the last day of vacation doing fun family things. We took the girls to a zoo that is run by the Humane Society and is entirely populated by animals rescued from other zoos that have closed, those kept as pets that people could no longer handle (like monkeys or pot bellied pigs or 5 foot iguanas). Each animal pen tells the story of the animals and their rescue, so it's really neat, and you get to feed most of the animals popcorn!

Then we went to the beach! You would think, living an hour away, that we'd make it there more often, but I honestly don't think we've been there in the last 3 years. The girls LOVED it! What a great day!

This is me with my shell crown. I think my girls collected about 800 of these to bring home to add to our ever-growing nature collections... :)

And then today it was back to alarm clocks and way too many meetings and such before the kiddies come on Tuesday. Ahh, well. I folded up my perfect day and am keeping it neatly in my pocket. :) Have any of you had a perfect day lately?

Fairy Tale Blogfest!!!

2010-08-30T20:37:00.000-07:00

So... Rebecca sent me the link for Emily White's Fairy Tale Blogfest on Friday, knowing I'd totally have a BLAST writing a twisted fairy tale flash fiction. Of course, I didn't get around to catching up on email until this afternoon and the blogfest ends TODAY. So, without further ado, here is my entry... at 11-something PM... hope it still counts!

RED

“You don’t have to do this.”

My eyes flicker toward the clockwork detailing of Damon’s mechanical legs, at rest in his wheelchair. Though I remind myself quickly to bring my gaze back to his face, the misstep has already registered in his taut mouth.

“It’s not about me, Fauna.”

How do I tell my brother, who has already lost half his natural body in the WOLF War, that sorry as I am for the way it has crumpled his body and soul, it really isn’t about him?

“It’s about the book, Damon.”

I don’t explain further. As I tighten my bootstraps, my entire person constricts. There is no room for excess clothing, excess baggage, and so my words naturally limit themselves. Besides, he already knows. In fact, he holds the book gingerly on his lap, its frail binding flaking at his touch.

Neither of us opens the book anymore. We haven’t in years, since Papa passed away, leaving Damon and me alone. Even in our youth, we knew the day would come that we would fight to defend the book. Papa spent every spare moment teaching us language, movement, how to listen, when to strike. We are well prepared to carry on the battle in his absence.

“Hide it.”

These are my last words to him. He nods as I pull the red cape across my shoulders. It is much like the one in the book, the one meant to help a watchful mother keep an eye on her playful child as she wandered the forest. It is with grim irony that I fasten mine as camouflage.

I step out of the cottage, knowing that I will not see Damon again. I close my eyes and press my fingertips upon the lids, in part to imprint his face into my memory, and in part a natural reaction to the smoke. I push the door shut, tense fingers gripping the latch until it fastens soundlessly. I back away and survey the cottage, satisfied that it is completely hidden by thatch. Thatch that will burn if the fires come. We’ve been over this. He knows where to hide the book in the metal storage box so that it won’t be consumed along with him.

The soles of my boots are made of soft leather, but the dryness of the forest assures that every twig I step upon snaps like bone. Although I’ve practiced this, my eyes still tear at the smoke and the nearness of flame. Lovers’ Forest burns around me, the scarlets and crimsons, bricks and burgundies of my clothing hide me well.

I travel for an hour, my throat singed, my back wet with perspiration. In the book, these woods were green. Princes and princesses held secret rendezvous here while animals masked their footprints with leaves and acorn tops. Alliances were formed here, witches betrayed, poisoned apples shined to seduce foolish girls. Wombs were filled on moss carpets, dragons slain by petite princes. There was evil in the world, to be sure. But there was respite. There was balance. There were wolves, but today’s WOLFs, Watchers Over Lovers’ Forest, were nowhere to be seen. Perhaps they were already here, waiting. Perhaps not.

I stop against a tree. The WOLFs will find me if I linger, their tiny metal scanners gathering as much information as they can before tearing me to shreds. My head is spinning, dehydration setting in. I cannot carry water, Damon has warned. I must be as light as possible. He has told me where flasks are stashed, but I can’t remember. I wanted him to draw maps on me, but he said that if the WOLFs find me, they will get too much information. If I die, any resistance knowledge must die with me. I know this, but thirst scrambles my senses. Although he has detailed it for me night after night, I cannot imagine how he survived nine days in the forest.

Nine days. The number nine materializes behind my eyelids, a circle and a slant. I focus on the shape, the simplicity of its form, and remember that I must not allow the haze of thirst to cloud my senses. I begin to count slowly. One. Two…

Four days later, I stumble toward the large tree. I think it is the one in Damon’s stories. The one in the book. The one with the hidden door. I cannot remember the code words. I cannot remember my name. I know only the numbers that I have repeated in my head to keep out the smoke. I reach seven, as I have countless times, and I cannot remember the next. I fall to the ground without the smallest idea how to open the tree. So close.

It is only moments before the WOLFs arrive. I hear their scuttling across barren leaves. They poke, prod. I cannot remember what they are looking for. If I want them to find it. I feel a sudden tearing pain as my leg is sliced neatly from hip to knee. Warmth pours out and I wonder if it is water, if they will let me drink.

Moments before the world goes black, the spiderlike creatures are ripped from my limbs. Voices pierce the blur.

“Is it Fauna? Is it her?”

“It is her. Can you hear me?”

My eyes open but my vision is so blurred by pain and waves of heat from the encroaching flames, I cannot see. I feel my arm being lifted, my hand spread, my fingers straightened, and a burst of clarity graces my mind. Under the third fingernail, the chip is embedded. Only Grandmother would know to look there immediately. Grandmother, the one Papa told stories about. I have found her. I have delivered Damon’s message about where the book is hidden to the leader of the resistance. I wonder for a moment if my brother is still alive. I close my parched eyes to the smoldering forest and join him if he is not.

Yay! Mockingjay!

2010-08-24T16:16:00.000-07:00

Got my copy (with free tattoo, lol), now just have to get the kiddies into bed...

Thank goodness school doesn't start until next week! :D

Mockingjay TOMORROW!!!

2010-08-23T09:39:00.003-07:00