Strands of Thought

I saw a spot on the Today Show one morning from the Broadway production of Legally Blonde the musical. By the time the song ended I was surprised I didn’t find blood dripping from my ears. There is no possible way I could have sat through an entire production of the show listening to that nasal twang sing. Could the singer project her voice? Yes. Did she display good voice control? Absolutely. Is she talented? Certainly. For all I know, I am in the minority in my inability to hear her voice for sustained periods.

I read a book that was so steeped with uneducated, southern characters whose dialogue was painfully true to the culture that I actually stopped reading the book. Same reason I stopped reading Lord of the Rings (I know, WHAT!?!), it was just way more work to slog through than I want in a book.

When you write a character with a lisp, the dialogue should dithplay the lithp when you firtht introduth the character but ath the reader gets used to it, you can back off a bit and only remind the reader every onthe and a while. Otherwithe ath you can thee, thith would drive you NUTTH theven chapterth in.

But the issue of voice in children’s literature is an interesting one. I recently received the comment that a character of mine didn’t ‘sound’ her age. I realize I might be biased but I had to respectfully disagree-at least for now. I feel I know a lot of kids and have done some good qualifying research. There is definitely a ‘voice’ you hear with certain ages. My daughter is (mostly)* a typical 10-year-old girl. I’ve heard interviews with 10-year-old girls from England that sound just like my daughter. It is so entertaining to see a kid make the same dramatic hand gestures, make the same head bobs and say the same things except with an accent. Yet my daughter has a friend that is very mature and serious for her age. She doesn’t fit in that '10-year-old box.'

My character intentionally doesn’t fit into her age box either because she is Einstein-smart and painfully prissy. She hangs out with a math geek and a computer nerd, so they aren’t going to be completely age appropriate either, though they are a bit more so. Their fourth friend is the only one who could be age appropriate but she hangs out with a bunch of brainiacs, so what is that gonna do to her?

Voice.

This is just one person telling me my character doesn’t feel age appropriate and I’ve considered the input and come to the conclusion that I don’t agree. However, if that became a common complaint, I’d have to address it and figure out a different way to show my mc’s smarts while keeping her age appropriate. I hope I don’t have to because I dig her the way she is.

It can be hard identifying a character’s voice. It can be even more difficult staying true to it. But your character is a person with quirks, habits, foibles and issues and it is your duty to discover what those are and exploit them when appropriate.

Go forth and discover what the voices in your head are trying to say. Those voices belong to your soundless characters. Soundless not voiceless. You are their only outlet.

*the caveat is: though my daughter’s general actions are typical to her age, she throws $10 words into her speech on a regular basis. She ALWAYS has, even when she was two. THAT is character in action. But crit partners, agents or editors might say, “Would a 10 year old really say that?” Uh…yeah!

Some of my favorites:

• Dark chocolate dipped in Skippy.
• My youngest son's maniacal giggle.
• Characters whose depths enchant you.
• Belting along with Heart's "Crazy On You" - loudly.
• Hugs from my youngest daughter who still holds on tight.
• Being tucked up under a fleece throw on the couch with a good book (For recommendations, see the tag Recents).
• Seeing a child's 'Uh huh" moment when they are listening to me read my story.
• My husband's touch.
• Unexpected kindness from strangers.
• Creating the first draft of a novel.
• Current favorite line from my middle grade novel, SAVE THE LEMMINGS!, "Don't get distracted by the gross little rodent."
• Current favorite scene from my young adult novel, Super Villain Academy: when Jeff and Mystic get hot and heavy but Jeff makes the right choice and walks away (thoroughly ticking Mystic off!).
• Current favorite pastime: daydreaming about publication.

What are some of your favorites?

Experience has lead me to believe ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder.’ At thirteen years old, my attitude toward my mother could have been classified as ‘typical.’ Then she sent me to France. Alone. For the summer. By week four I was so steeped in homesickness I missed her more than anyone. Much later in life, when my husband and I moved our family from California to Oregon, my husband came up here first while I stayed behind with the four children (6 and younger) hoping to sell the house. The house didn’t sell and I was a nutcase on my own, so we left the house in the capable hands of the realtor and relocated.

And now, it seems, I’m again being provoked in that direction. November 1^st, my husband held my hand as I explained to the counter guy at Connecting Point what troubles I’d been having with my laptop. I think I might have been petting the cover as I explained the slow loss of component use. I pointed out that I’d left the network card in so they could test the machine with it in use. I felt like I was pointing out the emergency numbers to the babysitter.

On November 4^th, I hadn’t heard from them, so I called. A technician came on the phone and explained that I (my computer) was still ‘in line.’ They work on a first come, first serve basis and I was still 3 to 5 business days from making it onto the ‘bench’. My mouth dropped open. Not an effective reaction for a phone conversation. I considered picking the laptop back up and suffering the inconvenience of a nonworking mouse but, well, it really isn’t practical in any sense to have a laptop that doesn’t have a mouse.

November 9^th was the day I started hyperventilating each time I thought of my laptop sitting in line at Connecting Point. I almost called to ask if I could visit. Turn it on and look at the desktop for a while. I could stay out of their way while they worked on the computers still in front of me. Heck, I might help them! I refrained but I haven’t slept well all week.

November 11^th I actually scanned the crowd and wondered if the Connecting Point technicians had taken time off work to attend the Veterans Day Parade like I had or if they were working on my computer.

November 12. Today. I was at work and truly not thinking a thing about my laptop because I was flippin’ busy! I pushed my chair back from my desk preparing to get up and walk into the conference room to give a presentation. While reviewing the bullet points of the presentation in my head, my phone rang. I thought about not answering it but knew it would be at least an hour before I’d get back to my phone again. “This is me.” (Well, I actually use my name when I answer my work phone.)

“Hi, this is Beelzebub at Connecting Point.” (oh, BTW, I changed his name to protect my innocence – or is it the innocent - if there are any around.)

I thought of the room full of people waiting for me and well, I had to take the call. And did he have a resolution for me? NO! He’d only gotten halfway through troubleshooting when he called. He told me the one thing he’d resolved and then told me what he still had yet to do. WHAT?! Beel, buddy, don’t raise a girl’s hopes like that! He said he’d call me back.

Here’s the irony of the situation. (Believe it or not, the phone call was NOT the ironic part of this story.) I’ve been battling some major writer blues for a few months now. Trying all sorts of things to break myself out of it. Well, NOT having my laptop to ‘create’ on seems to be an effective blockbuster. I suspect that when I do get my computer back, I’ll set it on my lap, power it on and then sit there for days straight creating. My children will have to feed me peanut butter sandwiches and bananas. My husband will have to Febreeze me. And, for a short time at least, I won't care if what I've created is crap or best seller because I'll be saving it into MY Documents.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder even in the case of touchpads and megabytes.

Every time that tail passed me by I couldn’t help but grab it; a stick-straight rod with the black fuzz-ball on the end.  It was as if the groomer used the width of my hand to determine where the shaved area blossomed into the fuzz.  Too perfect a fit not to take advantage of.  I also used to love to brush my hand over the very tips of the puff on top of his head to charge the fur with electricity. But he didn’t let me do that too often.  Mostly he’d draw his lips back and bear his teeth and growl, low and rumbly, in his belly.  I always thought it was a conflict for a cute poodle to growl.  Though the fur on his body was usually kept shaved close to his skin, it still displayed what seemed to me like miles of swervey-curvy roads for my hot wheels to follow. In truth, our dog was the same age as me but I always thought of him as a mean old man.  That was a relationship that was doomed from the start.

 

Your turn.  Tell me about your childhood pet, your best friend, or the school bully.  Dig deep and get in touch with what you really saw or thought of or what kind of relationship you had and why. 

Harken back to days past when dreams were still big and unknown, scary and daunting yet unquestionably part of your future.  Remember your biggest dream?  Travel back to that time and age when that was your soul focus.  Let the anticipation fill you up.  Let the fear of the unknown flutter your stomach.  Revel in hopeful expectation.

 

Fast forward to current day. Most of us are not traveling down the original road we’d anxiously anticipated.  Look back with all the wisdom and knowledge age and experience offers and identify each time your path altered from the original course.  Would you change any of those decisions or circumstances? 

 

So many things have happened to and around me as I’ve journeyed to this point in my life.  Beautiful new lives have come into existence. Beautiful existing lives have faded. Each waxing and waning life has resonated within me, guided and changed me. If God is willing, my life path will continue to twist, dip, rise, even drop off cliffs for years to come but I will be shown routes to follow or I’ll be offered options in direction and as long as I stay true to my values, my decisions will remain true.  Why aren’t we taught that in high school when our most life altering decisions are staring us in the face? When our most challenging experiences are yet to come? Perhaps because twenty-some-odd years later we’d have been traveling down a straight path not having learned and not having taught. We’d be boring, predictable beings unable to deal with the volatility of everyday life. Or perhaps we weren’t listening.

 

I’ve never known life to be simple, easy or carefree because it is my nature to find the worry-factor in even the mundane.  But I know there are people who are blessed with a carefree existence.  For those of us who aren’t, and especially to the younger readers who face the bigger decisions and challenges in life, I want to offer some advice.  Ah, some of you just stopped reading. Silly youth.  For those of you who’ve stuck with it, I offer this:

 

When the everyday mundane has you crossing your eyes, or if you’re expected to make decisions bigger than you feel you are able to make, or when God taps you on the shoulder and tells you that it is your turn for something really, really big:

 

Follow your instinct, not someone else’s.  Love your family. Cherish your friends. Love each day you are given. Value yourself. Honor God.

 

Whether you are 16, 36, 56, 76 or 96, this advice holds true.  If you are an entrepreneur, lawyer, teacher, flagger or student, this advice holds true. 

 

Love, cherish, value and honor.

God Bless.

quan⋅da⋅ry [kwon-duh-ree, -dree]

–noun, plural -ries.

a state of perplexity or uncertainty, esp. as to what to do; dilemma.

Have you ever found yourself in one?  A quandary?  What were the circumstances?  Perhaps you were standing in line at Starbucks staring at the goodies display in a quandary over cream cheese pumpkin bread or iced lemon coffee cake.  Or maybe you were in the shoe department at Macy’s with a mid-calf, brown leather, flat heeled boot on your right foot and a knee high, black leather, spike heel boot on the left.  Choices!  Whose idea was it anyway? Socialism looks better every day. But, I digress…

I’m in a quandary.  A rather silly one at that.  It is over my laptop.  Ah, I heard your  sharp intake of breath.  Right off the bat you understand the importance of the situation.  I’m a writer (well, sometimes anyway) and I have a major decision to make over MY laptop-my storage of thought and creativity.  My keeper of submission records, rejections and acceptances. My ultimate writing tablet. I’m hyperventilating just over the build up of this blog post.  Deep breath in, slow breath out.  Lots of oxygen…okay, better. 

The mouse on my laptop has been dying a slow and painful death for some time now.  I’ve done quite a bit of troubleshooting.  Trying to diagnose a failed part, a conflict, a virus.  I can’t pin it down. I’m not completely techno-ignorant but I do recognize that this is like a doctor operating on a family member.  My reasoning may be skewed. 

My ever supportive (and might I mention Compaq certified?!) husband has suggested a few times that I take it down to the local computer shop.  SHUDDER! Someone else’s fingers on my keyboard, manipulating my securities and accessing my drives.  How violating.  How degrading. How completely scary is the thought?!  Once someone else touches your computer, it is NEVER the same again.  Ever.

But now I can’t do anything on my computer.  I turn it on and the mouse wanders  and saunters across the screen, willy-nilly, or hides just out of sight only stuttering into view as the hard drive cycles.  It has begun to really cramp my style.  My mother sent me an email saying she is worried about me because she hasn’t heard from me.  I had to explain how I have to stay up past midnight waiting for the rest of the house to go to bed so I can sneak some time on their computers. Or go into work early to check my email off the clock. All because I'm too afraid to let some strange person lay hands on me-I mean my laptop. 

I’m going to have to dig deep and take the computer in, aren’t I?  Oh god!  What if they change things?  What if they laugh at the appearance of my desktop or scoff at the file set up in My Documents?  I should just walk into the place naked! 

Wish my computer luck.  Oh…and me!
 

Funny how this blogosphere can lull us into a false sense of community.  Don’t get me wrong, I love the online communities that I participate in.  However, I think we get the feeling that we’ve really gotten to ‘know’ someone when in fact we only know what they’ve chosen for us to see online.

 

That being said, I have developed a cyber crush on Nathan Bransford.  He’s funny.  He’s impressively productive. He’s smart. He’s generous. I wish he represented what I write because he would be great to work with.  I’m convinced that he would inspire my writerly self on a regular basis just by being himself. I’ve read his blog for a while and feel like I ‘know’ him enough to determine that we’d get along well professionally.  But let’s face it.  I don’t know him!  I wouldn’t recognize him if I were sitting next to him on the Bay Tour.  I can’t begin to imagine what he and his wife talk about over the dinner table.  I might be able to guess which movie he’d like to see from the now showing. But I couldn’t tell you if he prefers chinos to jeans.

 

I was reading through comments from the results post of his latest contest.  A commenter left a snarky remark about the fall out of the contest and I chuckled and thought, “Bet Nathan loved that.” That is when I realized, I don’t really know how Nathan responds to these kinds of things.  For all I know, he throws a paperweight through the window each time someone posts a wisecrack. Heck, he might only wear a soiled t-shirt and baggy boxers while he works. His breath might always smell like anchovies.  But I doubt it.  Besides it is way more fun to believe that Nathan is every bit as professional and focused as his blog leads us to believe. 

 

Daydreaming about working with Nathan does raise the topic of how finding the right support team can affect a writer’s productivity and success.  I’ve been looking for representation for about a year now.  There are a few agents out there (like Nathan) that I’d love to work with but I haven’t turned their head.  Well, my writing hasn’t.  I know from years of working in an office that the most productive corporations are those with successful teams.  Writing is no different.  An author is only one piece to the final product.  You can’t even claim that it is the most important piece.  Kind of along the lines of the ‘which came first the chicken or the egg’ question.  Sure a book can’t be made with out the creative content the writer offers but the book isn’t needed without the creative demand of the reader.  Which came first? I have no idea. Think about the poor chicken, if you don’t feed the chicken, it will starve and stop laying eggs.  Think about the poor writer, my chicken feed is readers.  I want my stuff to be read or my writing withers and dies.  Very sad.  Very tragic. And sure, if you throw a chicken into the woods, it can survive on its own but it is far more productive if it is cared for, nurtured, cleaned up after.  I’m sure you can see the direct correlation to an author, here.  Though we can continue to write, edit and submit all by ourselves, we thrive if we are nurtured, mentored and supported by a team of people in the industry and we definitely need outside assistance with cleaning our coups! Maybe that’s just me.   

 

Though Nathan represents YA, he doesn’t represent middle grade. I write both, therefore he is not the agent for me. So sad.  But I’ve heard that if I keep trying I will eventually find the right agent and/or publisher for my writing.  Not sure I actually buy into it but for a lack of an alternate mantra, I’ll stick with that one for now and I’ll keep looking.  It is exhausting.  It is discouraging. It distracts me from my writing. But it seems I’m unable to stop.

Recent Reads:

                       

The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman - Golf Clap -

Saint Iggy by K.L. Going - Golf Clap – I wish this were more fiction than it actually is. 

The Season by Sarah McLean - Golf Clap -

Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins - Rock Concert – Man, Suzanne Collins really knows how to write conflicting emotion. The book is chock full of the ugly, messy emotions of life that the reader can relate to even if they’ve never had to face the arena. How long do we have to wait until the next?

 

Recent Rents:

 

Monsters vs Aliens –AWESOME! I <3 B.O.B.

Time Bandits – okay…huh?

Twilight – again.  Twice.  Seriously, I should just buy it.  I have no idea why I’m so obsessed with it.

Land of the Lost – disturbing

 

My own humble rating system: Please feel free to ask for clarification or to dispute my opinion.  I only ask that we ALWAYS remain respectful to the author.

 

Chirping Cricket – At the end all you hear is the chirp of the cricket.  I doubt I’ll ever use this because I can’t publicly embarrass someone knowingly.  However, I must have a ‘beginning’ rating in order for the rest to make sense.  

 

Golf Clap - The polite ovation that follows a well-placed shot.

 

Motivational Speaker –You are left fired up and eager to get to work making the world a better place.  You can’t wait to tell your friends all the insights and inspiration you took away from it. 

 

Rock Concert – Hooting and hollering, cheering, singing and clapping throughout the performance.  Swaying and lit lighters accompany ballads.  Riots break out if there is no encore.

 

 

 

 

 

This week (through Sunday) I am participating in:

  

 

 

Monday we hit our keyboards running.  There was a lot of getting acquainted with presenters, with formats and with each other.  Yet by the end of the day I felt a bit dazed.  Not as dazed as I’ve been in the past.  I think I’ve learned a bit about pacing in regards to this huge conference!  Today has been chats, workshops, homework and reading, reading, reading.

 

Such a great event.  If you’ve never attended the Muse Online Conference, mark next year’s calendar for the event because it is such a fantastic forum of information, contacts and new friends.  Now, I must find an ice pack for my head.

 

Muse Online Conference is recommended to writers of all ages and abilities but only those with a strong yearning to learn and network.  Side effects of MOC may include headache, eyestrain and intense writerly dreams.  Please seek professional help if dreams persist beyond one week.

 Today is the launch day for Just Breeze by Beverly Stowe McClure!  Visit Breeze's blog to chat with her and learn more about her and her friends.

http://justbreeze.wordpress.com

(Great hair, Breeze!)

Today was senior picture day with my daughter.  She needed to make a wardrobe change and the photographer knew the owner of an authentic western shop in quaint downtown Tumalo, OR.  I sauntered into the shop after my daughter, the shop owner and our photographer and was greeted by the shop dog, a huge German Shepard. I said, “Hi, puppy,” as I browsed the store but I didn’t touch the dog (I’m allergic - it’s sad). Because I don’t touch them, dogs don’t usually give me the time of day.  But this dog was wiser than most.  She walked to the back of the store with me and as soon as I stopped walking, she sat on my foot.  Did I mention she was a big dog? Sitting, (on my foot) her head was just shy of waist height.  She tilted her head back and looked up at me with the most serene expression.

 

Dogs are so honest.  How can you not feel honored by such a statement?  She was not going to budge.  Her owner turned and saw her sitting on my foot and was shocked at how fast the dog had made up her mind. 

 

“She gives the measure of all our customers. But you…well you should feel honored,” she said.

 

“Oh, I do,” I said.  And despite the inevitable itchy eyes and sneezing, I buried my long nails in the shop dog's ruff and I scratched.  She smiled. I talked to her, she turned to look at me, leaned back and I almost fell over.

 

The photographer walked past with an adorable little chair. She was asking the shop owner about the inspiration for it. They were in another room and I couldn’t catch each word so I had to ask my doorstop if we could go look at the cute chair.  She got up right away and led me through to the next room. Kinda bizarre that she understood me.  But she really did.

 

Eventually the shop dog tired of hearing me exalt over how colored glass catches the light and she flopped onto her side on the floor and gently reached a paw toward me, never actually touching me.  How can you not respect her subtly?  I leaned over and scratched her some more, held her paw and talked to her. When my daughter reappeared, it was time to leave or we would loose the light for the rest of the photos.

 

I had a most unfortunate week but the interaction with that quiet, graceful dog helped to heal the wounds; reminding me that having a bad week doesn’t make me a bad person.

 

I never sneezed and my eyes never itched.  There was something very special about that dog. I bet if I’d looked really close, I might have seen a halo and a set of wings.

My husband and two of my kids and I attended the wonderful Guardian Angel Publishing Book signing at my local Barnes and Noble on Saturday.  I love how warm and welcoming children’s writers and illustrators are. Janet Ann Collins greeted us as soon as we walked into the store. We stopped to say hi to the authors who were set up at signing tables at the front.  I coveted all the books on display but I’d promised myself I would not influence my kids’ choices in what we purchased.  (Yes, that was hard!) I waited until I saw their choices and then I added my own.

 

 

Me, Bill Kirk, Susann Baston

 

Janie Robinson, Me, KC Snider

 

 

We gabbed with Mary Jean Kelso and Lynda Burch (my camera batteries had died so no pics – very sad). After making our purchases and getting most of them signed, we wandered to the back of the store and listened to Shari Lyle-Soffe read.  Then Janet Ann Collins read from her book and my kids got her to sign the book we’d purchased.  She and the kids collaborated a spontaneous tale about Owl Bob, whose big desire in life is to become intelligent. Fun!

 

On our way out of the store I stopped to say hello to Susan Berger who had taken over at a signing table.  She shared photos of her son’s dog, Diego, who currently lives with her.  My daughter was as impressed with the picture of this huge dog ‘cooking’ as I was. My kids had as much fun at the event as I did. Yeah!

 

I admit, what impressed me the most was how many of the GAP authors seemed to recognize me though they’d only met me the one time.  My whole life people have not recognized me over and over again.  I’m usually re-introducing myself three or more times before I hear, “Haven’t we met?”  But many of the GAP group had that spark of recognition when they caught my eye.  Puts you guys top in my book!

 

Thanks again KC for allowing me to be a bit of a tag along while your coworkers were in town.  I thoroughly enjoyed the opportunity of meeting so many children’s authors and illustrators here on my home turf.

I was browsing blogs one day when I happened upon a post by Margot Finke that mentioned there was going to be a gathering of Guardian Angel Publishing Authors and Illustrators in Central Oregon.  I raised my hand and waited for Margot to call on me, “I live in Central Oregon!” I wanted to declare.  But she couldn’t see me, so I posted a reply to that effect and anxiously awaited…something.  Not actually sure what.  Then it struck me.  Wait, someone has to live in Central Oregon to coordinate the event.  I found that one of the GAP illustrators does, K.C. Snider. I perused her website and enjoyed discovering her fabulous talent (Clean Run is my favorite) and then I sent her an email offering any help she could use, since I was local and all the authors who were coming in for the big event-weren’t. 

 

K.C. graciously invited me to a barbeque she was hosting at her home for all the visitors.  It was as if I’d found literary Disneyland!  Multiple children’s authors in one Central Oregon location and me invited to attend.  Hmmm, let me think about it, “YEP, thanks.”

 

Tonight was that barbeque.  What a beautiful set up! Thought I had walked into a wedding reception.  Hors d’oeuvres, punch and angel ice sculptures.  There was great mood music by Janelleybean who encouraged us to act the age of our target audience. Grillmaster-Fred queued up the most delicious steak I’ve had in a long time!

 

And I got to meet fellow children’s authors and illustrators. Susann Baston (wearing a Gilly the Seasick Fish sweatshirt), Janie Robinson and Susan Berger to name a few.  I met the lovely editor, Lynda Burch, who despite her tremendously overloaded schedule is still sane and coherent! It was fun to be able to name drop a few of the GAP authors that I know, Kevin McNamee and Beverly Stowe McClure who unfortunately weren’t in attendance due to the 1000 miles or more distance they would have needed to travel but who are both probably a bit green with envy.

 

I can’t thank K.C. enough for including little ole me in her evening.  She and her family (husband, daughter, nieces, publicist) are all so charming and welcoming that I left wondering, “What was I so nervous about?” 

 

They are having a ginormous book signing at the Barnes and Noble in Bend on Saturday.  Here is a great article in the local paper about Saturday’s big event.  I’ll be going with my younger children.  Can’t wait to see these wonderful people again. If you are in Central Oregon, visit the Guardian Angel site to check out the titles being promoted by the authors who are in town!  Books and their authors will be a captive audience. Hey, doesn’t get better than captive authors, right?

The woman dropped her head into her hands. Images of her daughter flooded her mind. Her 5-year-old daughter, with her messenger bag slung over her shoulder, ready to set off for her first day of school. 11-year-old daughter celebrating her first successful overhand serve in volleyball. Finally, just last year, her 16-year-old daughter, resplendent in her shimmering prom dress, blushing for the camera. 

 

How is it that her daughter had just delivered the news that she was pregnant?  Hadn’t they had plenty of conversations about consequences and responsibility?  Hadn’t they spoken directly about how sex wasn’t okay when you were underage regardless of how ‘accepted’ it is among friends? 

 

The mother mourned for the young, smart and talented girl whose future was now limited instead of wide open. The mother lamented the loss of her daughter’s scholarship, the dreams unfulfilled, the innocence lost. Her baby was having a baby despite all the mother had done to avoid it.

 

Are you raising a teenager?  I am.  If you aren’t having a daily dialogue with your teenager over what is right and what is wrong, then you probably aren’t thinking through all the possible consequences of your underage main characters choosing to have sex in your novels. ‘Choosing’ being the operative word. I know reality.  Don’t preach it to me.  I also know that if I’ve invested loads of time into raising a responsible underage boy or girl but they get their hands on a fictional character from a book they like who does something they want to do, like have sex, in the heat of passion, they aren’t going to remember what I told them.  They are going to remember what their favorite fictional character decided. As a mother, I think that sucks.

 

I hate hearing ‘the story just wrote itself that way.’ We are responsible humans who are attempting to raise STRONG, responsible future adults.  There is a beautiful story I’d love to recommend my daughter read but I can’t because there is underage sex in it. If I recommend it, it would be like I’m condoning it. 

 

All I ask is that those beautiful, thoughtful, responsible writers out there think, “Would I be comfortable with my own teen reading what I’m writing?”  Yet, it might not even be possible for people who haven’t been through that stage of raising children to imagine the daily struggle.  Those who haven’t progressed past the point of their children’s biggest rebellion being to pee on their sibling’s sand castle can’t possibly understand the drastic consequences of underage sex.  They may not even remember how bulletproof a teenager feels.

 

I know that I can’t shelter my teens from these themes, nor do I want to shelter them.  However, I also can not recommend they read stories where the main characters choose to have sex because a recommendation from me is like a statement of understanding that it is ‘gonna happen anyway’ and I don’t think a strong responsible young person should let that happen.  I want more examples of main characters that make the much harder choice to say no when all they want is to say yes.  THAT is real life.

You know you're a book geek when you open the 'book covers' folder on your pc and get a roller-coaster-drop feeling of thrill in your stomach when you see all the thumbnails staring back at you.

  The Forest of Hands and Teeth by Carrie Ryan – Motivational Speaker – really enjoyed the journey of this story.

 

  Cracked Up To Be by Courtney Summers – Motivational Speaker – This book’s emotions stuck with me long after reading it.

 

 Airhead by Meg Cabot – Motivational Speaker – I enjoyed the unexpected intelligence of this book.

 

Shadowed Summer by Saundra Mitchell – Golf Clap+ –  Good paranormal aspect woven into a believable real world setting.

My own humble rating system: Please feel free to ask for clarification or to dispute my opinion. I only ask that we ALWAYS remain respectful to the author.

 

Chirping Cricket – At the end all you hear is the chirp of the cricket. I doubt I’ll ever use this because I can’t publicly embarrass someone knowingly. However, I must have a ‘beginning’ rating in order for the rest to make sense. 

 

Golf Clap - The polite ovation that follows a well-placed shot.

 

Motivational Speaker –You are left fired up and eager to get to work making the world a better place. You can’t wait to tell your friends all the insights and inspiration you took away from it. 

 

Rock Concert – Hooting and hollering, cheering, singing and clapping throughout the performance. Swaying and lit lighters accompany ballads. Riots break out if there is no encore.

 What a wonderful weekend!  We spent it with family at Diamond Lake.  Friday morning as we packed our car, I took note of the irony of the unusually cool and overcast weather but I (mostly) laughed it off.  Good thing I didn’t stress about it.  This was our Friday evening sunset. Nothing to complain about there!

 

Saturday the sky was clear, the weather was perfect so we invited everyone to breakfast.  Everyone.

 

Then we were left with the daunting task of figuring out which fun thing to do in the sun.  Canoeing was big with people who hadn’t recently had back surgery.




For those of us who had, we got to take the big kid boat. Here I am kickin it on the lake at high speed.



We saw some very cute ducks that were smart enough not to be floating in the chilly waters. 




Here is Diamond Lake Resort where my husband kindly rented a room for his whiny and weak wife (We’d otherwise camp with everyone else).

 

The remainder of my exhausting day was composed of visiting, reading and writing a letter.  The visiting in particular was the most exhausting.  We visited down by the lake, at the picnic table during mealtimes and around the campfire where we played “Are You A Werewolf?” I feel it’s important to mention that I did eat ALL the peasants and the seer when I was the werewolf and avoided being lynched.

 

Today there was more of that exhausting visiting and eating, canoeing and swimming before we finally packed up and drove home.  But it was such a restful, enjoyable time.

 Sometimes I feel like a timid animal in a wild world.

 

Let’s pretend I’m a deer.  Deer are cute, even with their big ears. Deer are shy and skittish. Okay, so I’m a deer. Are you with me?

 

I live in the forest not too far outside a quaint little town.  Occasionally I run into deer that have been scared from the town by traffic or perhaps have ventured into the forest to spice up their diet.  These deer tell glorious stories of scrumptious smorgasbords of tasty treats. But of all the tastes they describe, the ones I want to try most of all are rosebuds and tulips, said to taste like the deer equivalent of pulled taffy and ladyfingers.  I dream of wrapping my lips around a fragrant rosebud so round and plump if it were allowed to let the morning sun touch its petals, it would unfurl with splendor.  I imagine the succulent crunch of a crisp new tulip. A taste so fresh it is like biting into the headwaters of a spring.

 

I’ve stood on the edge of the forest, just inside the last shadow, staring across the wide expanse of blacktop that smells so strongly of human, and imagined how to attain my coveted bounty.  In the dead of night, I’ve ventured to the side of the road only to be scared back into my forest by a smelly, speeding beast. I’ve walked along the edge for hours, in either direction, hoping to find a break in the humanity only to trudge home again unsuccessful. For now, I continue to imagine the taste of rosebuds and tulips and how to cross the road.

 

I’ve also imagined publishing a book about it.  I picture cute young fawns with their spots just beginning to fade staring up at me with their big, round, dark eyes. “Thank you for your book, How To Get To The Other Side, Ms. Brown Deer. It has taught me so much!” True, there will be some parents who won’t want their children to read my book. Controversy is good for sales.

 

I was grazing in the meadow just the other day, imaging a new way to cross the smelly blacktop without being hit by a metal beast when a shot rang out.  I felt a searing pain in my backside and my back legs buckled.  But I bolted for the safety of the trees. In spite of the pain, I leaped and sprang through the forest until I found a fern covered niche to hide in.  I’ve been there ever since.  Licking my wound and hoping it heals well but knowing me, and my dreams, might very well die.

 

That is the price we pay for trying to achieve our dreams.  Sometimes someone comes along who unwittingly shatters them.  It is then up to us to decide if we want to carefully and painstakingly reconstruct them or if it is time to let them go.  How long can one deer dream of rosebuds, tulips and a book contract? Perhaps not any longer.  

 I admit I was never a research assistant or a paralegal.  The most research I had to complete was for an assigned paper now and again so perhaps my skills are lacking. 

 

Nope, nope, I’m pretty sure it isn’t that.
 

And I don’t think I’m imagining things.  There just doesn’t seem to be a lot of fiction for middle grade or teens in magazines anymore.  Is there an underground online movement that I’m just not aware of? Gosh that would make me happy.  Perhaps as children age, they just don’t have time to read short stories.  Has that time been filled with facebook and online gaming?  Is their ‘reading itch’ scratched because of texting?  I know they are still reading novels.  But short fiction seems to be a dying art.

 

I’m holding a memorial service. 

 

Here lies S.S. Art. He lived a long tumultuous life. Shared his every moment with at least one other but often was surrounded by loved ones. He was a master at inciting emotion from a crowd, tears, cheers and jeers. Alas, in the end he grew lonely with only an occasional visitor who often only scanned his surface but never truly got to know him.  S.S. Art died of a broken heart.

 

Long live S.S. Art!

 Maggie Stiefvater has another release.  The woman never stops!  This is a return to her homocidal faeries. I love those faeries.  And I dig James, so I'm really looking forward to this.  In Mad Maggie style, she has again crafted an awesome book trailer.  Check it out:



Can everybody SEE me?  Can everybody hear me? I'm photophobic.  Hate, hate, HATE to have my picture taken, so it was a big deal in my mind that I made the big reveal last week adding an actual picture to my various social network user profile's  Did anybody care?  No!  Funny.  Sad. I'm relieved and insulted at the same time. And now I'm over it.

Speaking of anxieties, I'm reviewing my submission records and I have an unusual amount of non-responses on queries and submissions.  I'm not crazy about status querying, you could say I'm sq-phobic.  Did my email addy somehow get on a spam blocker list or something?  I've never had this many non-responses. Especially on magazine submissions. Some date back to the beginning of the year.  (For the record, I only consider it a non-response if I have hard facts on the average response from a reliable source such as the blueboards and it has been at least a couple months past that.) I'm starting to get itchy fingers and I'm considering the SQ!  Shutter.

I recently finished a book that I very much enjoyed, Carrie Ryan’s, The Forest of Hands and Teeth. It proved an interesting journey through the book for me as well as for the characters.  Why, you ask? Well, I didn’t like the main character, proving that it is not a requirement to like the m.c. in order to like a book. But I’m not sure I was supposed to like her. The m.c. always wants what she doesn’t have.  Not what she can’t have, because she could have anything she wants. She was strong and independent and always ended up with what she wanted but then learned that it wasn’t enough. That really annoyed me. 

A couple days after reading the book I still puzzled over the conflict of liking the book but not the m.c.  I have liked a story more than an m.c. before but there was always another character that made up for whatever I didn’t like in the main person.  I found Nathaniel in the Bartimaeus Trilogy to be a whiny brat. But I loved, loved, loved Bartimaeus and I have a little reader crush on Jonathan Stroud now because he created such a wonderful character AND broke my heart in the end. I didn’t like Bella, whimpering, weakling that she was through most of the Twilight series.  But Edward made up for it. (I don’t want to have the ‘he’s a bad example for our young women’ conversation – though, tyvm. And no, I don’t have a reader crush on Stephanie Meyer.)  But the supporting characters in The Forest of Hands and Teeth weren’t strong enough to make up for my lack of like for Mary (I didn’t actually dislike her-that implies less than like. I simply had a lack of it.)

 

Anyway, it was after analyzing the difference of not liking Nathaniel and lacking like for Mary that I figured out that I share the unfortunate personality trait of never being satisfied with what I have in life with Mary.  It is something I’ve never liked about myself, therefore, how can I like it in another?  That would be the equivalent of condoning it, wouldn’t it?  Probably not but regardless of whether it makes sense or not, that is why I didn’t like poor Mary, she is too much like me. 

 

However, I thoroughly enjoyed the story!  I carried the book with me everywhere.  I offered to make the bank deposit at work and went to the drive thru so that I could read a few pages while I idled in line.  That is pretty obsessed!  Great job Ms. Ryan.  I do still hold out some hope that maybe we weren’t really supposed to like that trait of Mary’s.  Maybe… (If Carrie sees this post, maybe she can shed some light on my conundrum.)