It's been a while, so thought I'd catch you up with a random, minor sampling of what's going on over here.
1) The weather was good enough yesterday to go fishing on the river! I didn't catch a (bleep) thing, but hubby did, and it was a gorgeous day. And we saw river otters! A family of three, making their way upstream. They move just like Loch Ness monsters, but when they stopped to stare at us they were adorable. Sorry I didn't have my camera!
2) Here in Montana we tend to forget over the winter months that the bright round thing in the sky has the power to make our skin red if we're out in it all day. But yesterday we actually had the "Did you put sunscreen on yet? Nope. Did you? Nope." conversation. And still did nothing. So we all three totally deserve the red raccoon look we're sporting today. *sigh*
3) Now that Downton Abbey is over for the time being and we're caught up on The Office, hubby and I decided to try this "Mad Men" thing everyone's been talking about FOR FOUR YEARS. (I love Netflix) Yep, we liked it. We've been watching 2 a night. Almost done with season 1.
4) I'm working on a new book! The working title is MAD. No relation to Mad Men at all, but take from it what you will...
5) Still waiting for various things. Good thing I invested in those Big Girl Patience Pants. Now I have to get the Big Girl Productivity Pants working.
6) We're going to Washington, D.C. soon for a mini-vacation. I am SO EXCITED. I've never been, and am giddily planning out trips to the Lincoln Memorial and the Smithsonian and the Spy Museum. Eeee!
/random update
Hope all is well in your corners!
Showing posts with label Life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Life. Show all posts
Monday, March 26, 2012
Friday, December 23, 2011
Nutcracker
Come Christmastime, like many people I crank up Pandora on the Christmas stations. I like to listen to the old classics, the carols, and the classical holiday music. But that last one I only do sparingly. See, that one comes with a little risk. They might play Nutcracker music. And Nutcracker music instantly swirls me into memories.
Oh, God, it came on just now, as I'm typing this.
I first saw Nutcracker performed by the Sacramento Ballet Company when I was 8. I'd taken little kid ballet in L.A., but nothing serious. It didn't matter. I told my mother I WOULD be in that ballet. I started lessons at a local studio the next year. I worked hard, I learned. I tried out for the show in Sacramento when I was 9, and didn't get a part.
I tried out again when I was 10, and I did. One of the easiest parts in the show--Marshmallow Child, 2nd cast. (There was a definite pecking order for casts.) But only 2 years after my declaration, I'd done it. I was thrilled.
I worked harder.
The next year I got in again, as one of the party children in the first act. 2nd cast. That year, for Christmas, I got regular lessons at the Sacramento ballet school, instead of the local school. It meant a 40-minute commute, and at first it was only a couple days a week. But I was serious now. Nutcracker auditions were in September, and from that point until December rehearsals got progressively more demanding. We did 2 full weeks of shows at Christmas, and I had to take off school. My whole class did a field trip once to come see me.
The next year, as a Sacramento Ballet school student, I got a party child part again--1st cast. And a lamb in the Sheperdess dance. I started taking more classes. By the end of that year I think I was up to 5 days a week, maybe 6. I tried out for the apprentice company, and I got in.
The next year, 1984, I got to be Clara.
If you don't know the show, Clara is the lead. She's in nearly every scene, at least on stage watching. She gets to be on stage entirely alone during the most magical part, when the Christmas tree grows. It's an amazing opportunity, and I was ecstatic. I had to share with two other Claras--I was 3rd cast--but it didn't matter. I was freaking CLARA. When I wasn't doing that part, I was also a flower, and a soldier in the battle scene.
The next year I was in the full company. I was dying to be Clara again, but our director said it was time for other kids to have a turn. I was going to classes 6 days a week now, three hours at least on weekdays and all day on Saturday. But I was also starting to get injuries. I had Achilles tendonitis, and shin splints. Politics at the studio were insane, and the driving time was ridiculous, and my parents were getting a divorce. I was starting to be unhappy. I was 15. I got Chinese ( a very good part), and a snowflake, and a flower again.
And the next year, when I was 16, I made the decision, with my mom, to stop.
I was immensely relieved. My injuries weren't getting better, and with my body type (really small, in case you're wondering--I'm 5'3"), it would be a very tough go for me to be a dancer professionally. I did acting at school instead, and went away to university, and discovered writing, and all turned out well. It was the right decision.
Except for when I hear Nutcracker music, and it kills me.
It's funny, because I LOVE Nutcracker, still. I know every beat of every part of that music. I remember almost all the dances I did, for all the parts. I remember with vivid clarity being on stage as Clara, during a matinee performance, when one of the huge mice was sneaking out behind me and a child from the audience yelled "Watch out, Clara!" I remember paper snow sticking in my false eyelashes, and that tremendous swell of joy as the Christmas tree grew and I held up my candle to it.
But it hurts, too. I'm not sure why--I guess because it's part of the past, and I loved it so and it's over. Has been for many years. I don't regret the choice, but I miss it. And the music--that much beloved music--brings me back. Makes me feel it all, remember it all, just by listening.
I think I *might* be getting to the point where it hurts less than it pleases, though. Where the good memories win out over the loss, and I can be purely glad that it happened. I have my Nutcrackers--I got one as a gift every year--out in a row at home, and my daughter, who is 9, loves them.
Maybe I should go listen to it again.
Oh, God, it came on just now, as I'm typing this.
I first saw Nutcracker performed by the Sacramento Ballet Company when I was 8. I'd taken little kid ballet in L.A., but nothing serious. It didn't matter. I told my mother I WOULD be in that ballet. I started lessons at a local studio the next year. I worked hard, I learned. I tried out for the show in Sacramento when I was 9, and didn't get a part.
I tried out again when I was 10, and I did. One of the easiest parts in the show--Marshmallow Child, 2nd cast. (There was a definite pecking order for casts.) But only 2 years after my declaration, I'd done it. I was thrilled.
I worked harder.
The next year I got in again, as one of the party children in the first act. 2nd cast. That year, for Christmas, I got regular lessons at the Sacramento ballet school, instead of the local school. It meant a 40-minute commute, and at first it was only a couple days a week. But I was serious now. Nutcracker auditions were in September, and from that point until December rehearsals got progressively more demanding. We did 2 full weeks of shows at Christmas, and I had to take off school. My whole class did a field trip once to come see me.
The next year, as a Sacramento Ballet school student, I got a party child part again--1st cast. And a lamb in the Sheperdess dance. I started taking more classes. By the end of that year I think I was up to 5 days a week, maybe 6. I tried out for the apprentice company, and I got in.
The next year, 1984, I got to be Clara.
If you don't know the show, Clara is the lead. She's in nearly every scene, at least on stage watching. She gets to be on stage entirely alone during the most magical part, when the Christmas tree grows. It's an amazing opportunity, and I was ecstatic. I had to share with two other Claras--I was 3rd cast--but it didn't matter. I was freaking CLARA. When I wasn't doing that part, I was also a flower, and a soldier in the battle scene.
The next year I was in the full company. I was dying to be Clara again, but our director said it was time for other kids to have a turn. I was going to classes 6 days a week now, three hours at least on weekdays and all day on Saturday. But I was also starting to get injuries. I had Achilles tendonitis, and shin splints. Politics at the studio were insane, and the driving time was ridiculous, and my parents were getting a divorce. I was starting to be unhappy. I was 15. I got Chinese ( a very good part), and a snowflake, and a flower again.
And the next year, when I was 16, I made the decision, with my mom, to stop.
I was immensely relieved. My injuries weren't getting better, and with my body type (really small, in case you're wondering--I'm 5'3"), it would be a very tough go for me to be a dancer professionally. I did acting at school instead, and went away to university, and discovered writing, and all turned out well. It was the right decision.
Except for when I hear Nutcracker music, and it kills me.
It's funny, because I LOVE Nutcracker, still. I know every beat of every part of that music. I remember almost all the dances I did, for all the parts. I remember with vivid clarity being on stage as Clara, during a matinee performance, when one of the huge mice was sneaking out behind me and a child from the audience yelled "Watch out, Clara!" I remember paper snow sticking in my false eyelashes, and that tremendous swell of joy as the Christmas tree grew and I held up my candle to it.
But it hurts, too. I'm not sure why--I guess because it's part of the past, and I loved it so and it's over. Has been for many years. I don't regret the choice, but I miss it. And the music--that much beloved music--brings me back. Makes me feel it all, remember it all, just by listening.
I think I *might* be getting to the point where it hurts less than it pleases, though. Where the good memories win out over the loss, and I can be purely glad that it happened. I have my Nutcrackers--I got one as a gift every year--out in a row at home, and my daughter, who is 9, loves them.
Maybe I should go listen to it again.
Tuesday, March 08, 2011
The track, I am back on it
Have you ever not realized how deep a slump you were in until you pulled out of it? You shake yourself off and say man, that sucked, and I didn't even know how badly.
That was me. I was having some issues before the lovely 12-day vacation to Hawaii (yes, there will be more about that with pictures later, once I organize the pictures on the right machine!). I was depressed, listless. I wasn't getting anything done in any part of my life, and I hated myself for it--which then made me continue to not do anything, which made me feel worse... Nasty, nasty cycle.
Anyway, vacation was just the trick. I came back with a clear brain and renewed discipline. Starting the day after we got back, I am:
You're going to root for me to keep it up, right?
Eventually I will also manage to get back to good twitter habits, email habits, and maybe even blog or blog reading habits (though I don't promise). But I think I've got the important things going.
That was me. I was having some issues before the lovely 12-day vacation to Hawaii (yes, there will be more about that with pictures later, once I organize the pictures on the right machine!). I was depressed, listless. I wasn't getting anything done in any part of my life, and I hated myself for it--which then made me continue to not do anything, which made me feel worse... Nasty, nasty cycle.
Anyway, vacation was just the trick. I came back with a clear brain and renewed discipline. Starting the day after we got back, I am:
- writing every day
- exercising (30 minutes at least) every day
- (gasp) taking my calcium :)
You're going to root for me to keep it up, right?
Eventually I will also manage to get back to good twitter habits, email habits, and maybe even blog or blog reading habits (though I don't promise). But I think I've got the important things going.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Tuesday, November 16th, ROCKS
Today has been incredible in my circle of friends. Lives were changed, hopes realized. All came out WELL.
Some of this news is sekrit, but I can share the biggest and the best:
WELCOME to Asher and Bradford Schmidt, the two newest members of Team Sparkle!!! They made their entrance early, but it still feels like we've been waiting for them forever.
Congratulations and Happy Birthday to their parents, Matt and Tiffany Schmidt. Tiffany is a CP, a confidante, and an AMAZING person.
I am so happy today.
Some of this news is sekrit, but I can share the biggest and the best:
WELCOME to Asher and Bradford Schmidt, the two newest members of Team Sparkle!!! They made their entrance early, but it still feels like we've been waiting for them forever.
Congratulations and Happy Birthday to their parents, Matt and Tiffany Schmidt. Tiffany is a CP, a confidante, and an AMAZING person.
I am so happy today.
Monday, November 08, 2010
The big SPLAT
Normally I am not one for the moral in a story, but this one just might have a moral in there. WATCH FOR IT.
So on Saturday, Hubby, Child and I were lounging around purposeless, as you do on a Saturday, and decided to go see MEGAMIND. It was gorgeous and warm, so we walked. We watched, laughed, snarfed popcorn and Mike & Ikes, and headed back. It was twilight, with just a bite of cold in the air, enough that Child and I were talking about lighting pine-scented candles and giving her a warm bath. All three of us were laughing, happy. I actually thought to myself How happy I am right now.
Then Child said, "Let's race home!" and I was feeling so silly and giddy that I said "You're on!" and we took off. It was only about a block further.
She was ahead, going in the gate by the garage, and I thought "I'll fool her and go in the other gate and beat her," and just as I thought that,
the ground wasn't there anymore.
I was in the air, with nothing under my feet, and then I was on my face on the gravel, spread-eagled.
Being in the family I'm in, I popped RIGHT back up and started walking for the door as if nothing had happened. Yes, we're like cats.
But it HURT. Oh my GOD it hurt. The heels of my hands, my elbow, my left knee, all on fire at once.
"Are you okay?" Hubby yelled, behind me.
"No," I said, through gritted teeth, because I could get up, but I couldn't lie that much. But I kept walking to the house. I let us in, went straight to the bathroom, and rinsed off my hands with cool water. It was all I could think to do, to make it stop burning.
Hubby appeared in the bathroom door. "Are you okay?" he repeated. Demanded. "You tore your jeans."
I kept rinsing my hands. "My jeans are the least of my worries right now."
"What are your worries then?"
"My hands. And my knee. My knee hurts like..like mad."
He looked at my jeans, at my face. "Show me your knee."
Yes, dear readers, it was a bloody mess. Is, though it's much better now. But that night, all of a sudden I was an invalid. I couldn't stand to have anything touching it. Couldn't stand to bend it, to move. Couldn't sleep for how much it hurt. I got up to go to the bathroom in the night and it was ten minutes before I could do anything but wait for it to stop hurting like that.
Of course I was also trying to be brave about it, so Child wouldn't feel bad. She'd suggested running, so she thought it was her fault.
But what was the moral that I kept thinking about all that sleepless night? How quickly things change. You're happy, oblivious, chugging along, and you make one innocent decision and BLAM. SPLAT.
I know, this was a minor oops on the grand scale, but I think most accidents, most life-changing oopses, are like that. Life is one way, and then it's not anymore, and all of a sudden you have to adjust to the new reality. Whatever that is.
Sheesh, you'd think I could fall without having major life epiphanies, but YOU WOULD BE WRONG. :)
(also, my other major thought was THANK GOD IT WAS ME AND NOT CHILD. But you parents knew that one already)
So on Saturday, Hubby, Child and I were lounging around purposeless, as you do on a Saturday, and decided to go see MEGAMIND. It was gorgeous and warm, so we walked. We watched, laughed, snarfed popcorn and Mike & Ikes, and headed back. It was twilight, with just a bite of cold in the air, enough that Child and I were talking about lighting pine-scented candles and giving her a warm bath. All three of us were laughing, happy. I actually thought to myself How happy I am right now.
Then Child said, "Let's race home!" and I was feeling so silly and giddy that I said "You're on!" and we took off. It was only about a block further.
She was ahead, going in the gate by the garage, and I thought "I'll fool her and go in the other gate and beat her," and just as I thought that,
the ground wasn't there anymore.
I was in the air, with nothing under my feet, and then I was on my face on the gravel, spread-eagled.
Being in the family I'm in, I popped RIGHT back up and started walking for the door as if nothing had happened. Yes, we're like cats.
But it HURT. Oh my GOD it hurt. The heels of my hands, my elbow, my left knee, all on fire at once.
"Are you okay?" Hubby yelled, behind me.
"No," I said, through gritted teeth, because I could get up, but I couldn't lie that much. But I kept walking to the house. I let us in, went straight to the bathroom, and rinsed off my hands with cool water. It was all I could think to do, to make it stop burning.
Hubby appeared in the bathroom door. "Are you okay?" he repeated. Demanded. "You tore your jeans."
I kept rinsing my hands. "My jeans are the least of my worries right now."
"What are your worries then?"
"My hands. And my knee. My knee hurts like..like mad."
He looked at my jeans, at my face. "Show me your knee."
Yes, dear readers, it was a bloody mess. Is, though it's much better now. But that night, all of a sudden I was an invalid. I couldn't stand to have anything touching it. Couldn't stand to bend it, to move. Couldn't sleep for how much it hurt. I got up to go to the bathroom in the night and it was ten minutes before I could do anything but wait for it to stop hurting like that.
Of course I was also trying to be brave about it, so Child wouldn't feel bad. She'd suggested running, so she thought it was her fault.
But what was the moral that I kept thinking about all that sleepless night? How quickly things change. You're happy, oblivious, chugging along, and you make one innocent decision and BLAM. SPLAT.
I know, this was a minor oops on the grand scale, but I think most accidents, most life-changing oopses, are like that. Life is one way, and then it's not anymore, and all of a sudden you have to adjust to the new reality. Whatever that is.
Sheesh, you'd think I could fall without having major life epiphanies, but YOU WOULD BE WRONG. :)
(also, my other major thought was THANK GOD IT WAS ME AND NOT CHILD. But you parents knew that one already)
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Virtuosity
Virtuous.
It's a stuffy, prim little word, isn't it? Like a proper old lady sitting in a brocade chair with her ankles crossed.
"Virtuous," she says, sipping her tea, nodding. "A lady must be virtuous."
THAT kind of virtuous I will never be, despite the efforts of proper old ladies everywhere. But over the past few years, I have learned the simple pleasure of bursts of virtuous.
I have bad habits, you see. I procrastinate, play solitaire, eat candy, sneak in reading or old TV when I know there are other things I should be doing, things that are important to me for my goals--or that make me feel accomplished. So when I actually do those things, I feel pleased. Proud of myself. Virtuous.
I feel virtuous when I:
not only get my writing goal in for the day, but surpass it.
actually do make lunches the night before.
exercise (hey, it's rare, but it does happen).
write a decent blog post.
cook an interesting, nutritious meal for my family (and they like it!).
clean the kitchen, completely, not in spots.
fold a load of laundry and get it put away in less than a day after starting it.
remember Child's increasingly complicated schedule and pack the right things
volunteer for something important to me.
You know that feeling, right? Kind of wow-I-am-a-successful-grown-up.
I guess it's an inner gold star.
What makes you feel virtuous?
It's a stuffy, prim little word, isn't it? Like a proper old lady sitting in a brocade chair with her ankles crossed.
"Virtuous," she says, sipping her tea, nodding. "A lady must be virtuous."
THAT kind of virtuous I will never be, despite the efforts of proper old ladies everywhere. But over the past few years, I have learned the simple pleasure of bursts of virtuous.
I have bad habits, you see. I procrastinate, play solitaire, eat candy, sneak in reading or old TV when I know there are other things I should be doing, things that are important to me for my goals--or that make me feel accomplished. So when I actually do those things, I feel pleased. Proud of myself. Virtuous.
I feel virtuous when I:
not only get my writing goal in for the day, but surpass it.
actually do make lunches the night before.
exercise (hey, it's rare, but it does happen).
write a decent blog post.
cook an interesting, nutritious meal for my family (and they like it!).
clean the kitchen, completely, not in spots.
fold a load of laundry and get it put away in less than a day after starting it.
remember Child's increasingly complicated schedule and pack the right things
volunteer for something important to me.
You know that feeling, right? Kind of wow-I-am-a-successful-grown-up.
I guess it's an inner gold star.
What makes you feel virtuous?
Wednesday, June 02, 2010
These are a few of my embarrassing things...
Tawna Fenske started it.
Actually, maybe Linda Grimes did.
And then @BostonBookGirl reminded me of a good tale of my own.
Ah, those shining moments of embarrassment, when you truly wish the floor would swallow you up, because whatever monster is wriggling under the floor is CLEARLY better than where you are. Visible. Hideously exposed. Not only not-perfect-and-cool, but a mockery of humanity.
Or just klutzy.
When people ask me my most embarrassing moment, up till now my mind has always flown back to those agonizing two minutes freshman year of high school, when I slipped and slid--facedown--across the slick floor of the hall...and then the bell rang and everybody in the known universe poured out to find me there. But that's just high school. There are MORE.
Sixth grade. My teacher sent me somewhere--don't remember where, but I was pretty much teacher's pet at that point, so it's not surprising he'd send reliable me on a mission. Except I got easily distracted (then, as now) and didn't look where I was going. I slammed my forehead full-force into the metal pole standing outside the classroom. In view of everyone. Oh, yes. Knocked myself out for a couple seconds, and had to be helped by one of my less-distracted, eye-rolling classmates to the nurse's office to check for a concussion.
*sigh*
Seventh grade, English class. We were doing a word-search contest for some reason, which I usually won (still teacher's pet and always a word nerd). Problem: I had a really bad habit of sucking on the back of my pens while working. Bigger problem: this pen...it exploded. In my mouth.
So I had to decide: try to hide this incident, and possibly die from ink poisoning? Confess, spit, get help?
I trotted to the front of the class, my mouth bursting with ink, blue-black dripping from the corners like I was a vampire dining on octopus. Nurse's office. Spitting. Reputation oh-so-cool.
Geez. It's a wonder I survived at all. I'm sure there's more, too--that's just what I can think of right now.
How about you? Wanna keep me company with somefun tragic episodes of embarrassment?
Actually, maybe Linda Grimes did.
And then @BostonBookGirl reminded me of a good tale of my own.
Ah, those shining moments of embarrassment, when you truly wish the floor would swallow you up, because whatever monster is wriggling under the floor is CLEARLY better than where you are. Visible. Hideously exposed. Not only not-perfect-and-cool, but a mockery of humanity.
Or just klutzy.
When people ask me my most embarrassing moment, up till now my mind has always flown back to those agonizing two minutes freshman year of high school, when I slipped and slid--facedown--across the slick floor of the hall...and then the bell rang and everybody in the known universe poured out to find me there. But that's just high school. There are MORE.
Sixth grade. My teacher sent me somewhere--don't remember where, but I was pretty much teacher's pet at that point, so it's not surprising he'd send reliable me on a mission. Except I got easily distracted (then, as now) and didn't look where I was going. I slammed my forehead full-force into the metal pole standing outside the classroom. In view of everyone. Oh, yes. Knocked myself out for a couple seconds, and had to be helped by one of my less-distracted, eye-rolling classmates to the nurse's office to check for a concussion.
*sigh*
Seventh grade, English class. We were doing a word-search contest for some reason, which I usually won (still teacher's pet and always a word nerd). Problem: I had a really bad habit of sucking on the back of my pens while working. Bigger problem: this pen...it exploded. In my mouth.
So I had to decide: try to hide this incident, and possibly die from ink poisoning? Confess, spit, get help?
I trotted to the front of the class, my mouth bursting with ink, blue-black dripping from the corners like I was a vampire dining on octopus. Nurse's office. Spitting. Reputation oh-so-cool.
Geez. It's a wonder I survived at all. I'm sure there's more, too--that's just what I can think of right now.
How about you? Wanna keep me company with some
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Hi all!
*waves*
I've had an eventful couple of weeks. Last week at this time we were hanging out in the airport at Salt Lake City for 8 hours, hoping we'd get a flight back home after Delta conveniently (a) canceled our original flight the night before after keeping us on the tarmac for 3 hours, (b) "automatically" canceled the alternate flight we booked, in the middle of the night, and booked us on a flight at 8:15 in the morning, (c) didn't tell us about that flight and gave away our other seats, so we arrived at the airport at 11 am rather surprised.
BUT it all worked out in the end, and it was the conclusion to a really glorious 11-day vacation that included 3 days of Disneyland (and an earthquake, among other things, but I'll talk about that in another post!). So overall, life is pretty sweet.
I haven't posted since I got back mostly because I launched directly back into work and editing SALVAGED. I took a few days to read through and mark up the hardcopy, which is always satisfying. Today I'm making a plot board so I can check flow and pacing (and...um...PLOT). Then I get to dive into the words again--I can't wait for that. It's taking up at least 60% of my brain right now.
Which leaves me very little for blog posts. Sorry to be hermity, but I'm assuming in the end you'd rather read SALVAGED than blather. At least I hope!!
Back to it for now. I promise I'll post about Disneyland and earthquakes later, and I'm hoping to talk about bullying too.
*waves*
I've had an eventful couple of weeks. Last week at this time we were hanging out in the airport at Salt Lake City for 8 hours, hoping we'd get a flight back home after Delta conveniently (a) canceled our original flight the night before after keeping us on the tarmac for 3 hours, (b) "automatically" canceled the alternate flight we booked, in the middle of the night, and booked us on a flight at 8:15 in the morning, (c) didn't tell us about that flight and gave away our other seats, so we arrived at the airport at 11 am rather surprised.
BUT it all worked out in the end, and it was the conclusion to a really glorious 11-day vacation that included 3 days of Disneyland (and an earthquake, among other things, but I'll talk about that in another post!). So overall, life is pretty sweet.
I haven't posted since I got back mostly because I launched directly back into work and editing SALVAGED. I took a few days to read through and mark up the hardcopy, which is always satisfying. Today I'm making a plot board so I can check flow and pacing (and...um...PLOT). Then I get to dive into the words again--I can't wait for that. It's taking up at least 60% of my brain right now.
Which leaves me very little for blog posts. Sorry to be hermity, but I'm assuming in the end you'd rather read SALVAGED than blather. At least I hope!!
Back to it for now. I promise I'll post about Disneyland and earthquakes later, and I'm hoping to talk about bullying too.
*waves*
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Happy St. Pat's!
I don't actually celebrate St. Pat's. Three reasons, really:
The weather has been absolutely thrillingly gorgeous here since Sunday, with full sun and 50-60 degree temperatures. We've taken full advantage. Sunday we swam outside, took an hour long walk/bike ride on the walking trail (Child on her bike), and played tennis. Monday hubby and I walked at lunch and while Child was in dance class. We tried to play tennis again, but the darn high school kids apparently take over the courts in the afternoon/evenings. Hubby jokingly said, "Get inside, kids! Go play video games!" But no. Yesterday we tried again, and ended up shooting hoops for an hour instead.
I love it. It's a whopping spoonful of summer when we should still be mired in snow. Mind, it's supposed to snow again tomorrow, but I will not complain!!
- I have not a DROP of Irish in me.
- It's HUGE HUGE HUGE here, because we have a massive Irish population, and I'm such a curmudgeon sometimes I don't want to participate just because everyone else does enough participating for all of us. Plus uptown is taken over by drunks from about 10 AM on.
- I'm still just a touch resentful of all those pinches from grammar school. I'm just saying.
The weather has been absolutely thrillingly gorgeous here since Sunday, with full sun and 50-60 degree temperatures. We've taken full advantage. Sunday we swam outside, took an hour long walk/bike ride on the walking trail (Child on her bike), and played tennis. Monday hubby and I walked at lunch and while Child was in dance class. We tried to play tennis again, but the darn high school kids apparently take over the courts in the afternoon/evenings. Hubby jokingly said, "Get inside, kids! Go play video games!" But no. Yesterday we tried again, and ended up shooting hoops for an hour instead.
I love it. It's a whopping spoonful of summer when we should still be mired in snow. Mind, it's supposed to snow again tomorrow, but I will not complain!!
Monday, March 01, 2010
Darkness
Sometimes I walk in the dark.
When my vision went bad, it went fast. At the beginning of 7th grade I tested as 20/20. By the end of 8th grade it was 20/200. I couldn't sit in the back row anymore. I was squinting. I forgot what the world looked like in clarity, in detail--it was all a bit of a blur.
I got contacts, of course. I could see again, the glorious vision of individual leaves instead of green blob-trees. But my vision without help continued to deteriorate. Within another year or so it was 20/400. That's legally blind without correction. (Fortunately, correction works fine for me.)
I was 13. I didn't tell anyone, but I deduced, on my own, that it was just going to keep getting worse. I figured they probably wouldn't tell me, but at this rate I'd be really blind before too long.
So I started practicing. I'd close my eyes and navigate around my room, around my house. I'd find my way around walls and furniture with my hands. I'd pour drinks with my eyes closed, judging by sound or my thumb on the edge when to stop. And at night, often, I'd go through the whole house without turning lights on, testing myself.
I don't know when I started to believe that the worst wouldn't happen. But last night I went to check on Child after all the lights were out, and I realized I still do it. Not for the same reason: just to challenge myself. Have I paid enough attention to where all the toys are, where we left things? Do I remember the sharp jut of the desk here, the chair there?
I collect bruises, sometimes, but I keep trying.
Writing is like walking in the dark, isn't it? Especially for pantsers like me. I don't have an outline, a map, a light. I start with a character in a situation and I follow along. Walk bravely in the darkness to see where it leads me.
I collect bruises, sometimes, but I keep trying.
When my vision went bad, it went fast. At the beginning of 7th grade I tested as 20/20. By the end of 8th grade it was 20/200. I couldn't sit in the back row anymore. I was squinting. I forgot what the world looked like in clarity, in detail--it was all a bit of a blur.
I got contacts, of course. I could see again, the glorious vision of individual leaves instead of green blob-trees. But my vision without help continued to deteriorate. Within another year or so it was 20/400. That's legally blind without correction. (Fortunately, correction works fine for me.)
I was 13. I didn't tell anyone, but I deduced, on my own, that it was just going to keep getting worse. I figured they probably wouldn't tell me, but at this rate I'd be really blind before too long.
So I started practicing. I'd close my eyes and navigate around my room, around my house. I'd find my way around walls and furniture with my hands. I'd pour drinks with my eyes closed, judging by sound or my thumb on the edge when to stop. And at night, often, I'd go through the whole house without turning lights on, testing myself.
I don't know when I started to believe that the worst wouldn't happen. But last night I went to check on Child after all the lights were out, and I realized I still do it. Not for the same reason: just to challenge myself. Have I paid enough attention to where all the toys are, where we left things? Do I remember the sharp jut of the desk here, the chair there?
I collect bruises, sometimes, but I keep trying.
Writing is like walking in the dark, isn't it? Especially for pantsers like me. I don't have an outline, a map, a light. I start with a character in a situation and I follow along. Walk bravely in the darkness to see where it leads me.
I collect bruises, sometimes, but I keep trying.
Friday, December 11, 2009
Why I Love Ya
Dear Fabulous Agent Shark (not-so-secret identity Janet Reid):
I've always loved your enthusiasm. The way you chuckled to yourself when you read my opening pages, standing there in the lobby of the Sheraton. The request for a full, given only the way you could give it. (Remember, it started out, "What the hell is wrong with me that I wasn't leaping all over this the day you sent it?" I laughed out loud.) The way you gulped down my book in one day and offered that night. That unbounded enthusiasm, that love for MY story...the way you *got* it, even the tiny little references...how could I ever turn that down?
I couldn't, of course. You made me wait for the other agents, but in the end I knew who I'd choose.
I love the way you've stuck with the book, with me. It hasn't been easy, I know. It didn't go right away, and still didn't, and still didn't. Not for lack of trying. I bet a lot of other agents would've given up by now, figured they were wrong and it was a lost cause. Not you.
I love that when I email you, fretting, you may very well roll your eyes over there in New York, but I can't tell it from your emails.
I love that every time I talk to you on the phone I get the renewed sense that you love this book, that you're not done yet.
I love that when I fret about the book I'm writing now, you get all Buddha-like and say "I have confidence in you." And when I worry that it's not commercial enough, you remind me that you love what I write.
I love that you have a close-knit cadre of clients I can hang out with on Twitter, that feel like my brothers (and couple of sisters). I love that you're on Twitter too.
I love that you're on my side.
I'm so very glad to be on your team.
Love,
Susan
**Note: This is part of Unofficial Official Agent Appreciation Day, a fabulous idea of Kody Keplinger's. Because sometimes agents get a bad rap, we wanted to join together to surprise our agents with a little love. A list of participating blogs will be available here: http://lisa-laura.
I've always loved your enthusiasm. The way you chuckled to yourself when you read my opening pages, standing there in the lobby of the Sheraton. The request for a full, given only the way you could give it. (Remember, it started out, "What the hell is wrong with me that I wasn't leaping all over this the day you sent it?" I laughed out loud.) The way you gulped down my book in one day and offered that night. That unbounded enthusiasm, that love for MY story...the way you *got* it, even the tiny little references...how could I ever turn that down?
I couldn't, of course. You made me wait for the other agents, but in the end I knew who I'd choose.
I love the way you've stuck with the book, with me. It hasn't been easy, I know. It didn't go right away, and still didn't, and still didn't. Not for lack of trying. I bet a lot of other agents would've given up by now, figured they were wrong and it was a lost cause. Not you.
I love that when I email you, fretting, you may very well roll your eyes over there in New York, but I can't tell it from your emails.
I love that every time I talk to you on the phone I get the renewed sense that you love this book, that you're not done yet.
I love that when I fret about the book I'm writing now, you get all Buddha-like and say "I have confidence in you." And when I worry that it's not commercial enough, you remind me that you love what I write.
I love that you have a close-knit cadre of clients I can hang out with on Twitter, that feel like my brothers (and couple of sisters). I love that you're on Twitter too.
I love that you're on my side.
I'm so very glad to be on your team.
Love,
Susan
**Note: This is part of Unofficial Official Agent Appreciation Day, a fabulous idea of Kody Keplinger's. Because sometimes agents get a bad rap, we wanted to join together to surprise our agents with a little love. A list of participating blogs will be available here: http://lisa-laura.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
A drop of encouragement
I had a full-circle moment this morning.
I was driving to work after dropping Child off at school, loaded up with 6 packages of cookies to be mailed out, Brownie gear to deliver later today, my cup of coffee. I was thinking of a scene I want to add to my WIP today, a plot twist I might add.
My grown-up life.
And then Rimsky-Korsakov's Scheherazade came on the radio--and I was 17 again, instantly, sitting in the box of a theatre, watching my first symphony performance. And plotting--worrying, really--how in the hell I was going to review it.
In my first semester of college at U.C. Davis I was enrolled in a "Freshman Seminar," a supposedly low-stress way to introduce freshmen to college life and to the faculty. I ended up in a seminar with two other freshmen and D. Kern Holoman, a distinguished professor of music, and the conductor of the UC Davis Symphony.
He scared the piss out of me.
I don't remember what the focus of the seminar was, really, but somehow we were writing art reviews. We watched a movie, went to art exhibits, and had to write reviews as though we were submitting them to a newspaper. It was fascinating for just-dabbling writer me, and eye-opening. Before that I had NO IDEA how much harder it was to watch a movie or view art when you knew at the end you were going to have to summarize and say something intelligent (and entertaining!) about the art for others. I was scribbling notes in the movie theater about themes and characterization, though I couldn't read my notes afterwards. And he was a stickler--imposing, professorial, strict about word count and interpretation and style. Every time I submitted something I was petrified.
But that was nothing to reviewing a symphony performance. I'd been a ballet dancer, so to me the symphony was background, something I moved to. I'd never been to a concert just to listen. And then not only to listen, but to write a review of it, for a CONDUCTOR?
Eeeek.
So I can still remember vividly the mix of emotions of my 17-year-old self, sitting there in that box as the lights went down. Anxiety, but also excitement--and the opening of a whole new world.
At the end of the term, Dr. Holoman pulled me aside, and told me I'd shown promise. That I could be a writer, or a journalist, if I wanted to pursue it. Of course I was an Animal Science major at the time, determined to be a comparative psychologist working with dolphins or chimps. I was thrilled, and flattered...but I didn't think it would come to anything.
Still, I think that encouragement put me on the path. When a few years later I started on this crazy writing thing, his words were still there. They still are. I thank him, and all teachers who take the time to nudge students, to show them the possibility of worlds they'd never considered.
I have season tickets to the symphony here in town now, and Child goes with us to every performance. She loves classical music, at 7. She also loves words. But maybe someday a professor will pull her aside and tell her she has promise in biology, or medicine, or painting, and those words will eventually shape her life.
You never know how the circle will round out, in the end.
I was driving to work after dropping Child off at school, loaded up with 6 packages of cookies to be mailed out, Brownie gear to deliver later today, my cup of coffee. I was thinking of a scene I want to add to my WIP today, a plot twist I might add.
My grown-up life.
And then Rimsky-Korsakov's Scheherazade came on the radio--and I was 17 again, instantly, sitting in the box of a theatre, watching my first symphony performance. And plotting--worrying, really--how in the hell I was going to review it.
In my first semester of college at U.C. Davis I was enrolled in a "Freshman Seminar," a supposedly low-stress way to introduce freshmen to college life and to the faculty. I ended up in a seminar with two other freshmen and D. Kern Holoman, a distinguished professor of music, and the conductor of the UC Davis Symphony.
He scared the piss out of me.
I don't remember what the focus of the seminar was, really, but somehow we were writing art reviews. We watched a movie, went to art exhibits, and had to write reviews as though we were submitting them to a newspaper. It was fascinating for just-dabbling writer me, and eye-opening. Before that I had NO IDEA how much harder it was to watch a movie or view art when you knew at the end you were going to have to summarize and say something intelligent (and entertaining!) about the art for others. I was scribbling notes in the movie theater about themes and characterization, though I couldn't read my notes afterwards. And he was a stickler--imposing, professorial, strict about word count and interpretation and style. Every time I submitted something I was petrified.
But that was nothing to reviewing a symphony performance. I'd been a ballet dancer, so to me the symphony was background, something I moved to. I'd never been to a concert just to listen. And then not only to listen, but to write a review of it, for a CONDUCTOR?
Eeeek.
So I can still remember vividly the mix of emotions of my 17-year-old self, sitting there in that box as the lights went down. Anxiety, but also excitement--and the opening of a whole new world.
At the end of the term, Dr. Holoman pulled me aside, and told me I'd shown promise. That I could be a writer, or a journalist, if I wanted to pursue it. Of course I was an Animal Science major at the time, determined to be a comparative psychologist working with dolphins or chimps. I was thrilled, and flattered...but I didn't think it would come to anything.
Still, I think that encouragement put me on the path. When a few years later I started on this crazy writing thing, his words were still there. They still are. I thank him, and all teachers who take the time to nudge students, to show them the possibility of worlds they'd never considered.
I have season tickets to the symphony here in town now, and Child goes with us to every performance. She loves classical music, at 7. She also loves words. But maybe someday a professor will pull her aside and tell her she has promise in biology, or medicine, or painting, and those words will eventually shape her life.
You never know how the circle will round out, in the end.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Craziness
I'm back at my desk for my first full day of work in a week! Between me being sick, our mini-trip, and Child being sick yesterday (she seems fine now), it's been a little odd. I like getting back to routine after a time away, listening to my Pandora stations while I work, with TweetDeck open on the second monitor. :)
September is my busy month at work, too--I'm putting together next year's calendar (should be at the printer by next week), helping prepare slides for the Board of Regents meeting, getting my researchers settled in again after a summer in the field, and working on a few *new* projects. Yay new projects! Plus we're moving to a new building in December, so I really should be packing things up. AHEM.
And Child's in school and now in her new routine of 3 dance classes a week...to which we've just added Girl Scouts. Add in all the concert series starting up, school activities, husband's work functions...
Fall is crazy, though mostly in a good way. Am so very glad I'm not in school this year, though!!
September is my busy month at work, too--I'm putting together next year's calendar (should be at the printer by next week), helping prepare slides for the Board of Regents meeting, getting my researchers settled in again after a summer in the field, and working on a few *new* projects. Yay new projects! Plus we're moving to a new building in December, so I really should be packing things up. AHEM.
And Child's in school and now in her new routine of 3 dance classes a week...to which we've just added Girl Scouts. Add in all the concert series starting up, school activities, husband's work functions...
Fall is crazy, though mostly in a good way. Am so very glad I'm not in school this year, though!!
Monday, May 18, 2009
Wildlife
Another fabulous weekend, if not as eventful as last week. Camping, picnicking (how odd that word looks), fishing, swimming, eating out, ice-cream slurping, gold panning...
These are the animals we saw wandering around over the course of the weekend:
Cows and horses (duh--it's Montana)
Mules
Prong-horned antelope
White-tailed deer
An eagle
An osprey
A muskrat
A ram, with big curved horns
Red-winged blackbirds
Cranes
Rainbow trout
Cutthroat trout
And this morning, in our yard, a wild bunny. Child and I got to spy on him for a while as he chewed our grass. :)
These are the animals we saw wandering around over the course of the weekend:
Cows and horses (duh--it's Montana)
Mules
Prong-horned antelope
White-tailed deer
An eagle
An osprey
A muskrat
A ram, with big curved horns
Red-winged blackbirds
Cranes
Rainbow trout
Cutthroat trout
And this morning, in our yard, a wild bunny. Child and I got to spy on him for a while as he chewed our grass. :)
Monday, May 11, 2009
Now THAT was a weekend!
Wow. I won't have a weekend like that again soon.
I graduated *officially* with my Master's degree on Saturday...and in spite of dire weather reports rightupuntilthetime, we managed to have it outdoors and even have some sun. And let me tell ya, it was FUN to walk across that field. A kazillion people I know were there to hug and congratulate me and shake my hand (this is what happens when you work on campus), and I felt SUCH a bubble of accomplishment. Wahoo. Today I feel zen-like in my calm--which, believe me, is rare. Almost unheard of. (plus I got ice cream cake and roses and cards and dinner and jewelry, yay, but those were just bonuses)
And then Sunday was Mother's Day! All I'd asked for was to sleep in, and I got an extra hour. Then I got breakfast brought to me (peanut-butter english muffin, yum), with a beautiful card made by Child. Then we all got ready and went fishing together for a few hours, part of which we all fished and part Hubby fished while Child read her book aloud to me, perched on my lap on a big sunny rock. Aaaahh. We headed home and went to my mom's house, where much sharing-of-presents was had. More handmade beautiful gifts from Child made my day. And we rounded up with hubby making dinner...and me pulling Child's loose tooth!
And then I totally ALMOST blew it and messed up the tooth-fairy thing, because I fell asleep and forgot last night. (Bad Mommy) Thank god I remembered first thing this morning and made the switcheroo before she woke up. WHEW, because she was *so* excited about her 3 gold coins. She squealed (with her beautiful gappy smile) and ran off to show the coins to her daddy straightaway, while I did a little thankful prayer.
And yeah...I really don't think you can get better than that, do you?
*beaming still*
I graduated *officially* with my Master's degree on Saturday...and in spite of dire weather reports rightupuntilthetime, we managed to have it outdoors and even have some sun. And let me tell ya, it was FUN to walk across that field. A kazillion people I know were there to hug and congratulate me and shake my hand (this is what happens when you work on campus), and I felt SUCH a bubble of accomplishment. Wahoo. Today I feel zen-like in my calm--which, believe me, is rare. Almost unheard of. (plus I got ice cream cake and roses and cards and dinner and jewelry, yay, but those were just bonuses)
And then Sunday was Mother's Day! All I'd asked for was to sleep in, and I got an extra hour. Then I got breakfast brought to me (peanut-butter english muffin, yum), with a beautiful card made by Child. Then we all got ready and went fishing together for a few hours, part of which we all fished and part Hubby fished while Child read her book aloud to me, perched on my lap on a big sunny rock. Aaaahh. We headed home and went to my mom's house, where much sharing-of-presents was had. More handmade beautiful gifts from Child made my day. And we rounded up with hubby making dinner...and me pulling Child's loose tooth!
And then I totally ALMOST blew it and messed up the tooth-fairy thing, because I fell asleep and forgot last night. (Bad Mommy) Thank god I remembered first thing this morning and made the switcheroo before she woke up. WHEW, because she was *so* excited about her 3 gold coins. She squealed (with her beautiful gappy smile) and ran off to show the coins to her daddy straightaway, while I did a little thankful prayer.
And yeah...I really don't think you can get better than that, do you?
*beaming still*
Friday, January 23, 2009
My 3 Life Lessons
I've slowly come to the realization that there are 3 major lessons I keep re-learning, over and over and over. Each time they dawn on me as Truth, as Revelation, even though I'm well aware I've learned them before. It's just so easy to forget. If I believed in reincarnation or karma, I'd say these are the lessons I'm working on in this life.
So I'm going to put them in writing this time, hoping that will help me keep them in mind. Y'all feel free to remind me, too.
I am NOT saying change is easy, or work is easy, or giving of yourself is easy. None of it is. It's freaking hard, and that's why I keep forgetting these lessons. (over and over and...) But I welcome the moments when I realize them again, and feel that surge of YES.
So I'm going to put them in writing this time, hoping that will help me keep them in mind. Y'all feel free to remind me, too.
- Give without expectation. If you give love freely, or do things for others freely, without expecting anything in return (this is the hard part for me), the love will come back to you. People will choose to do things for you. CHOOSE, instead of being expected to, which is different and vastly better.
- Do the work first, and inspiration will follow. This is really just a different version of butt-in-chair, but it is SO easy to get frustrated when writing or life isn't going the way you want it to, and want to give up because it isn't coming. I realized this one again yesterday when (whew) I had a big plot revelation for SSP...after banging my head against a wall for 11,000 words. Yes, I start with ideas, but the story doesn't coalesce until I put the hard work in. Often I struggle to scrape the words together for my daily goal, only to find that at the end of the session words come, I get into the flow, and I go over my word count. You have to go through the hard part.
- Things happen for a reason. I know. This is an old saw, and can seem pretty flat when the world is falling apart around you. But it's true.
Example: I had some pretty miserable school experiences. I mean bad. At one point in 5th grade there was an "I hate Susan club", and many of my classmates were members. Yeah. Because I went through all that a little part of my psyche is still there, still dealing with social struggles and rejection.
Unforeseen Result: Now I write YA. I couldn't, if I hadn't suffered then. I understand what that place is like.
Example: Both my husband and I were laid off within 3 months of each other. We had a 6-month-old child, we had no income besides Social Security, and the economy was tight in our industries, so we had trouble finding jobs (sound familiar?).
Unforeseen Result: Instead of having our child in daycare, I was able to stay home with her for a year. Then I got a really good job in Montana, in a small town, and my husband stayed home with her for another year, until she was ready to start at a fabulous preschool that she loves. My mom moved here a year later (from somewhere else), and now Child is able to have a close relationship with her grandparents that she would not have otherwise had. It worked out in a way I never would have guessed 6 years ago.
I am NOT saying change is easy, or work is easy, or giving of yourself is easy. None of it is. It's freaking hard, and that's why I keep forgetting these lessons. (over and over and...) But I welcome the moments when I realize them again, and feel that surge of YES.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Yeah. It really is almost always like this.
Whew! January has so far been a leetle crazy. I'm just breezing by here today to say:
1) I'm alive! You've probably figured that out already.
2) I'm busy! (ditto) Trying to work (big time for us), write thesis, start crazy heavy-load classes, keep writing, attend all these board meetings for Child's school and create marketing materials I promised...you know. My Life.
3) I am SO so so so so happy about President Obama (squee) and his inauguration yesterday. Yes, I cried.
4) Hi! Just because I'm slammed doesn't mean I want to lose touch. Comment, if you will, and say hi and what YOU have been up to!!
1) I'm alive! You've probably figured that out already.
2) I'm busy! (ditto) Trying to work (big time for us), write thesis, start crazy heavy-load classes, keep writing, attend all these board meetings for Child's school and create marketing materials I promised...you know. My Life.
3) I am SO so so so so happy about President Obama (squee) and his inauguration yesterday. Yes, I cried.
4) Hi! Just because I'm slammed doesn't mean I want to lose touch. Comment, if you will, and say hi and what YOU have been up to!!
Friday, January 16, 2009
The state of my head...ow.
The good, fabulous news: I know what the next book is going to be! I have a kick-ass situation, and the heroine is dribbling herself out to me. I even have the perfect working title: LIGHTNESS.
The bad news: I can't really work on it yet. I'm not one of those people who can balance two books at a time, at least not full-bore. And SSP has priority. So...I've got a little queue going in my head. Actually with all the other stuff, it's more like a prizefight.
And first up... *ding ding ding*...in this corner, it's THESIS! 500 pounds and getting bigger by the minute, THESIS is a real contender. This bad boy knows he has priority, so he doesn't mind throwing his weight around and knocking everybody else out of the way.
In this corner...*ding ding ding*...CLASSES! Two of them this time, so they pack a mean double-punch. If you're not careful, they'll start twisting you around, tossing you back and forth to each other with all their homework and presentations and reading and projects. Watch out for them!
In the third corner...SSP! SSP looks a little bit on the weakling side compared to the other two, but don't count her out! She can grab hold of your brain and hang on!
And last but not least, in the final and fourth corner...FAMILY! They don't look too scary over there, biding their time, but they will absolutely beat up everybody else at the least opportunity. Look for FAMILY to win the overall title!
So that's what it looks like right now. That doesn't even include WORK, who just jumps in the ring and spars occasionally, or FRIENDS, or my volunteer stuff. So LIGHTNESS is there, taking notes and watching the fight, but I really can't let her have a go yet.
The bad news: I can't really work on it yet. I'm not one of those people who can balance two books at a time, at least not full-bore. And SSP has priority. So...I've got a little queue going in my head. Actually with all the other stuff, it's more like a prizefight.
And first up... *ding ding ding*...in this corner, it's THESIS! 500 pounds and getting bigger by the minute, THESIS is a real contender. This bad boy knows he has priority, so he doesn't mind throwing his weight around and knocking everybody else out of the way.
In this corner...*ding ding ding*...CLASSES! Two of them this time, so they pack a mean double-punch. If you're not careful, they'll start twisting you around, tossing you back and forth to each other with all their homework and presentations and reading and projects. Watch out for them!
In the third corner...SSP! SSP looks a little bit on the weakling side compared to the other two, but don't count her out! She can grab hold of your brain and hang on!
And last but not least, in the final and fourth corner...FAMILY! They don't look too scary over there, biding their time, but they will absolutely beat up everybody else at the least opportunity. Look for FAMILY to win the overall title!
So that's what it looks like right now. That doesn't even include WORK, who just jumps in the ring and spars occasionally, or FRIENDS, or my volunteer stuff. So LIGHTNESS is there, taking notes and watching the fight, but I really can't let her have a go yet.
Friday, December 05, 2008
Where I am right now
I know, I have not been posting.
This is partly because I continue to be swamped. Today I'm working on my department's Biennial Report to the Legislature, which thankfully this year will not be as boring as that sounds, as we're completely revamping. Of course revamping means "me completely redoing from scratch", but hey. It sounded like a good idea when I volunteered for it. :) I'm also working on final projects for class, *trying* to work on the thesis, and juggling increasing levels of Holiday Stuff. None of which I mind--it's just that I'm busy.
The other reason I haven't been here is that the economy is continuing to suck, and as we all know the publishing industry took a ginormous hit this week. I don't like to talk about negative stuff like that, as I feel that continuing the negative "oh my god" patter just perpetuates the downward cycle. People panic, people cling to their dwindling wads of money, more people get laid off, more people don't have money, etc.
Let's just say that in reading the American Girl Kit Kittredge books with Child this week, the "About Kit's World: The Great Depression" informative bits in the back sounded disturbingly close to today's headlines. And it's soooo easy to let the panic bump up. I've got a book out there in this publishing craziness, trying to find a home. It's easy to *worry worry worry* over every headline of bad news.
But.
I have to realize, control freak that I am, that the publishing industry's survival, and the whole nation's economy, are not in my hands. I can shop as I normally would (I am), I can keep putting money in the stock market (I am), I can give more to those who need it (I am), and I can support the book industry by buying more books (yep, that too). If I look around for ways to help, and I'm doing all those things...what more can I do?
I can keep doing my job, and do it well. All my jobs: the one I'm paid for, and the ones I'm not. Right now writing is one that I'm not yet paid for. That's not a change. I haven't been paid for it for 10 years. I'm not going to stop doing it because the economy's losing its mind. I'm not going to stop putting words on the page, or my butt in the chair, or my passion in the story. Or figuring out ways to do it *better*. Yes, I don't know what's going to happen to my stories on the other end, but right now, that's not my problem.
Panic is useless, and self-feeding. Action, even usual day-to-day "500 new words" or "grocery shopping" action, is positive.
It'll come back up eventually. It HAS to. In the meantime, I've got some work to do.
This is partly because I continue to be swamped. Today I'm working on my department's Biennial Report to the Legislature, which thankfully this year will not be as boring as that sounds, as we're completely revamping. Of course revamping means "me completely redoing from scratch", but hey. It sounded like a good idea when I volunteered for it. :) I'm also working on final projects for class, *trying* to work on the thesis, and juggling increasing levels of Holiday Stuff. None of which I mind--it's just that I'm busy.
The other reason I haven't been here is that the economy is continuing to suck, and as we all know the publishing industry took a ginormous hit this week. I don't like to talk about negative stuff like that, as I feel that continuing the negative "oh my god" patter just perpetuates the downward cycle. People panic, people cling to their dwindling wads of money, more people get laid off, more people don't have money, etc.
Let's just say that in reading the American Girl Kit Kittredge books with Child this week, the "About Kit's World: The Great Depression" informative bits in the back sounded disturbingly close to today's headlines. And it's soooo easy to let the panic bump up. I've got a book out there in this publishing craziness, trying to find a home. It's easy to *worry worry worry* over every headline of bad news.
But.
I have to realize, control freak that I am, that the publishing industry's survival, and the whole nation's economy, are not in my hands. I can shop as I normally would (I am), I can keep putting money in the stock market (I am), I can give more to those who need it (I am), and I can support the book industry by buying more books (yep, that too). If I look around for ways to help, and I'm doing all those things...what more can I do?
I can keep doing my job, and do it well. All my jobs: the one I'm paid for, and the ones I'm not. Right now writing is one that I'm not yet paid for. That's not a change. I haven't been paid for it for 10 years. I'm not going to stop doing it because the economy's losing its mind. I'm not going to stop putting words on the page, or my butt in the chair, or my passion in the story. Or figuring out ways to do it *better*. Yes, I don't know what's going to happen to my stories on the other end, but right now, that's not my problem.
Panic is useless, and self-feeding. Action, even usual day-to-day "500 new words" or "grocery shopping" action, is positive.
It'll come back up eventually. It HAS to. In the meantime, I've got some work to do.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
And then I...
Update: over the weekend, I:
slept in, scrambled to get family ready for fishing trip, HAD 8 HOURS TO MYSELF, researched and wrote a paper for class, did thesis work, caught up on ANTM and Project Runway and TopDesign (gack I am getting addicted), IM'd with friends, saw Romeo and Juliet staged with 4 actors in a 1970s set (fab!), slept in again, went swimming, went grocery shopping, played with Child, watched football with hubby, ate and slept again.
What a marvelous weekend.
Yesterday I had to get all caught up on school/work stuff, and dive back into Jenna-land.
That's right! I'm in Jenna-land again! It's a good thing I love Jenna-land, honestly. Sometimes I have a feeling I shall spend half of the rest of my life there.
Sadly, all this work-thesis-Jenna-family stuff has sucked my brain dry, hence the lack of interesting on-topic blog posts of late.
I'll try to round one up from the recesses this week. Stay tuned!
slept in, scrambled to get family ready for fishing trip, HAD 8 HOURS TO MYSELF, researched and wrote a paper for class, did thesis work, caught up on ANTM and Project Runway and TopDesign (gack I am getting addicted), IM'd with friends, saw Romeo and Juliet staged with 4 actors in a 1970s set (fab!), slept in again, went swimming, went grocery shopping, played with Child, watched football with hubby, ate and slept again.
What a marvelous weekend.
Yesterday I had to get all caught up on school/work stuff, and dive back into Jenna-land.
That's right! I'm in Jenna-land again! It's a good thing I love Jenna-land, honestly. Sometimes I have a feeling I shall spend half of the rest of my life there.
Sadly, all this work-thesis-Jenna-family stuff has sucked my brain dry, hence the lack of interesting on-topic blog posts of late.
I'll try to round one up from the recesses this week. Stay tuned!
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