the dish

Brand New Me

2010-09-09T22:48:00.002-04:00

Time to put this dish on the shelf! I've graduated to a "big girl" website. Please come visit me at my new home soon!

Take me to mimi's new site!

Identity Crisis

2010-06-29T07:51:00.003-04:00

*sigh*

If you're a semi-regular reader of the dish, you can probably tell that mimi has been going through a funk. An existential crisis. A "who am I, and remind me why I'm writing this blog?" moment. Or moments. Or months, if you want to be candid about it.

All mimi can claim is an insane work schedule and, indeed, a bit of an identity crisis. For the blog, that is. mimi has always been a Jill of All Trades type rather than a one-and-done personality. Likewise, the dish covers everything from writing to teaching to home life to rants about whatever gets mimi's goat that particular day. Once upon a time, it featured yummy-looking men every Friday in a popular feature called "The Bed List/The Dinner List." Hmm. Revivals are good for Broadway...

At any rate, identity is being considered and reviewed as we speak. By the time school starts (because that's really New Year's Day every year if you're a teacher type), mimi should have herself and her blog figured out. Then we'll be back to our regularly scheduled posts. Sound good?

Brontë Sisters Power Dolls

2010-05-19T21:53:00.001-04:00

As one YouTube comment stated, "this is brilliant wrapped in bacon." Love. Hilarity. Thanks to JoAnn Ross for the tipoff!

I Write Romance

2010-05-11T05:15:00.002-04:00

mimi is always amused by the looks she gets when a well-meaning questioner finds out that she reads and writes romance. There's never a way to explain it that suits folks. You see, it's hard to think clearly when you're working around a bundle of stereotypes.

Luckily, mimi has Eileen Dreyer--who writes romance as Kathleen Korbel--to explain on her behalf. Check out her fabulous article posted at cnn.com.

Yeah. What she said!

Fresh Apples

2010-04-28T17:37:00.004-04:00

mimi has been a hardworking girl for lo, these many years, and since this is the last year of National Board bonus money, it was time to upgrade. The nice people at the Apple store have sent me (courtesy of my credit card, of course) this lovely wee MacBook.

So shiny! So pretty! So fast! mimi is v. excited about possibilities and has already downloaded a fresh new copy of Scrivener so she can keep working on the book that is taking foreeeeeeeeeever to revise. Maybe revising will be more fun now that I have a new toy. Let's hope.

The Word Series

2010-04-09T21:43:00.005-04:00

Props to Novel-T, which has created a lineup of American literature-inspired T-shirts. The baseball-themed shirts feature iconic characters and writers, like Hester Prynne, Moby-Dick and Captain Ahab, Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn, and writers Whitman, Poe, and Thoreau. Each "jersey" features an icon befitting the player, like a whale (duh), a Captain's "C," paintbrushes, and a raft. My favorite is the international "no" circle/slash for Bartleby the Scrivener, who would, of course, "prefer not to." Clever, clever stuff. English teacher squee out of control, basically.

Even better, Novel-T donates $1 of the purchase price of each shirt to 826NYC, a nonprofit organization dedicated to supporting students ages 6 to 18 with their creative and expository writing skills. Now that's a team I can get behind!

It's About Danged Time

2010-04-06T17:14:00.007-04:00

A friend sent me a link to this brilliant ad campaign for, of all things, tampons. The model in the first ad is actually a former intern at JWT who helped design the concept of the ad campaign. Clearly, she gets it (unlike the idjit who came up with the "have a happy period" tagline, who probably thinks we all dream of the day we can wear white during that time of the month and spin and go salsa dancing). The second spot just nails the American obsession with demographic testing. Funny stuff!

Rain, Rain

2010-03-29T08:01:00.003-04:00

Wouldn't you know it? It's the first day of Spring Break, and it's pouring out there. *sigh*

Sometime this week, I have to catch myself up on everything. I've let the blog slip, the laundry slip, the writing slip...I know it's because I am SLAMMED at work, but still. So, this week, playing catchup. And doing the taxes. And the laundry. And maybe doing something Spring Break-y.

Newbery Update: 1960s

2010-03-27T18:19:00.000-04:00

Now we're on a roll. The 1960s are the first decade where I had multiple reads already. Let's see what else popped up:

Onion John by Joseph Krumgold - This book marks the first time an author won the Newbery more than once (other double winners include E.L. Konigsburg, Lois Lowry, Katherine Paterson, and Elizabeth George Speare). This book didn't charm me as much as ...And Now Miguel, his first Newbery title. Onion John, the town eccentric, becomes the focus of a town-wide improvement plan, with interesting results. Sometimes weird is best, and best left alone.

Island of the Blue Dolphins by Scott O'Dell - I remember being fascinated by this story as a girl. Based on the true story of the Lost Woman of San Pedro Island, this book explores the life of a Native American woman, abandoned when her tribe evacuates to the mainland, and her daily struggle to create community with the animals of the island--most notably a wild dog--when the people have gone.

The Bronze Bow by Elizabeth George Speare - This book was not at all what I expected, but I was pleasantly surprised by what I found. Daniel chafes under the Roman rule in first-century Israel and readily joins a tribe of Zealots hiding in caves. A friendship develops with a young Jewish scholar and his lovely sister, and Daniel's life is changed when he has to assume the care of his fragile sister. Daniel's thirst for vengeance is tested by his sister's friendship with a young centurion and called into question by a young rabbi you might have heard of--Jesus.

A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L'Engle - This is one of those books I probably should have read and treasured as a child, but it somehow escaped my notice until now. Meg Murry is a little too much like me at her age--smarter than what's good for her, impossible hair, glasses, misunderstood. Meg is drawn into an interplanetary adventure to both rescue her father and save our world from an encroaching darkness. It's a great ride, a fascinating blend of physics and love.

It's Like This, Cat by Emily Neville - What boy doesn't feel misunderstood by his demanding father? Dave Mitchell brings rebellion into the house in the form of an alley cat named (surprise!) Cat and ends up learning about life, growth, tolerance, and maturity while romancing a girl and coming to the aid of a young man with no allies.

Shadow of a Bull by Maia Wojciechowska - In a way, this is the story of Ferdinand the Bull (DH's favorite children's story), told from the point of view of a reluctant young matador. Manolo has lived his whole life expected to become a great bullfighter like his deceased father Juan. Manolo's secret? He is afraid and lacks the afición, or desire, necessary to be brave in the ring. Or is he being called to another destiny? I've never understood the whole bullfighting "thing," but this book is marvelous.

I, Juan de Pareja by Elizabeth Borton de Trevino - Juan de Pareja is a Moorish slave inherited by the Spanish court painter Velázquez. Told from "Juanico's" point of view, we learn about the artist's life, and how painting truth, even when it's ugly, is far preferable to being second best at creating beauty. The question of slavery is deftly handled, and considering that the book was published in the 60s, at the height of the Civil Rights movement, it is an amazing tale of how mutual respect and affection can transcend society's rules.

Up a Road Slowly by Irene Hunt - This is an oddball, a coming-of-age tale that stretches from the day young Julie Trelling's mother dies until the day Julie graduates from high school. Julie's road is indeed slow, hampered by her impatience and a well-meaning secondary cast that includes a prim maiden aunt, a charming drunken uncle, a father scrambling to make sense of life, lost loves, rivals, city vs. country...there's a lot packed in here. Pretty good, but definitely a girly book.

From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler by E. L. Konigsburg - One of my top ten favorite books ever, the Newbery book I pushed onto my kids before any other title. Some of the references are dated (the fountain and restaurant at the Metropolitan Museum of Art are long gone, and hardly anyone these days has any clue what an Automat is), but the story, a combination of mystery, art, and cleverness, will live forever. Bless E. L. Konigsburg for creating Claudia and Jamie, and even more for Mrs. Frankweiler and her witty, cynical voice, which I enjoy more and more the older I get.

The High King by Lloyd Alexander - This book is the conclusion of a five-book series, the Chronicles of Prydain, which explore a magical land very much like Wales, complete with double f's, double l's, and lots of y's in the names. In The High King, the former Assistant Pig-Keeper Taran achieves his destiny as a warrior and fulfills an ancient prophecy. You're familiar with Prydain if you've seen the Disney film The Black Cauldron. High drama, swordfighting, magical creatures, bards, and a kick-butt princess, so good fun all around.

And the winner is...

From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler!

I have to admit, I think the fix was in as soon as I read the titles of the 1960s winners. I adored this book when I was a child. Claudia was so clever and resourceful--very much a role model for a bookworm like myself. Besides, how cool to live in a museum, for Pete's sake? And the Metropolitan Museum of Art, for that matter? When I finally did visit the Metropolitan as an adult, you can bet I went looking for things I first learned about in the Mixed-Up Files: the Egyptian sarcophagus where Claudia and Jamie hide their instrument cases, the carved platform bed where they sleep. The Automat and fountain, alas, were long gone, but I have to admit to a teeny tiny fangirl squee anyway just from being in the building. When I grow up, I want Claudia's sense of possibility and Mrs. Frankweiler's attitude. She rocks.

Gah! Air Travel!!

2010-03-05T08:17:00.003-05:00

This morning, Ms. Without-Shopping and I woke up at o-dark thirty to catch a 6:30 flight to a conference. Flying anywhere for any professional reason almost never happens to teacher types (it involves money), so we're excited--until we get to the airport. We park and hustle into the terminal. Turns out the e-ticket is one of those "operated by" tix, so we're at the wrong airline. On the wrong side of the terminal, it turns out. While we're crossing over, we see that the TSA screening line stretches from here to Chicago (at 5:45 am?? Hello??). So basically, no plane for you!

So now I have a day off from work, but I'm spending it in the airport on standby. My life is an encyclopedic justification of Murphy's Law. Air travel FAIL.

Meeting in the Middle

2010-02-27T18:24:00.002-05:00

I had one of those European experiences this morning. There was no room to sit in the local bagel shop, where I'd come hoping to review some writing along with breakfast, so I ended up sharing a table with a total stranger. Turns out we had plenty in common, when we were discussing our kids, but somehow, we got onto politics. We were quite different. One would expect fireworks, and yet...

...we had an amazing discussion. It was easy to tell where she and I diverged, but there were plenty of areas where we agreed. We talked a little about nearly everything, from education policy to global warming to redistricting to health care and found we shared far more common ground than the current freaked-out political vibe would lead you to believe.

It makes you wonder what those idjits in Washington are really all about. Between the two of us, Ms. Stranger and I could have solved some hugely knotty national problems, and we did this over bagels in less than an hour. Neither of us had patience for people who don't think or appear to have the capacity (*cough* Sarah Palin *cough*), nor did we appreciate the all-out monetary grubfest indulged in by too many in Congress. We also bemoaned the lack of common sense and actual voices in the debates over serious problems--for example, why aren't they talking to teachers when making education policy instead of the people who publish textbooks and educational software, or union leaders who have never seen or worked inside a classroom? Why can't we all agree that a growing population has some effect on the world's environment? Why are the only voices we're hearing so far out on the fringes that the rest of us are annoyed and increasingly disconnected?

It was a quick hour and an interesting one. My new acquaintance and I ended up exchanging numbers, though I doubt we'll ever see each other again. Still, it gives you pause: if two strangers can meet, disagree cordially, and leave with respect, why can't the people we're paying to do that job manage the same?

Circle, Circle, Dot, Dot, Dot

2010-02-16T21:11:00.002-05:00

Need a break? Dial up the Nestlé Crunch hotline: 1-800-295-0051. Listen to the message, then wait about ten seconds after the "For English, Press 1; for Spanish..." option. It will then ask you if you want Piglatin. In Piglatin. Then it'll give you some other options (I recommend Option 4). Once you get that deep into the menu, it'll give you a plethora of choices; my favorite is number 7--which will also make the title of this blog clear!

I love clever people who aren't afraid to have fun at (and about) work. :-)

The Passing of a Legend

2010-02-15T18:14:00.003-05:00

Yesterday brought the sad news that one of my all-time favorite authors, Dick Francis, passed away at the age of 89. I've blogged about my Francis Fangirl status at length--and seriously, if you love mystery and you haven't read any of his books, you're cheating yourself of a treat--but today is a wee celebration of his life and work.

Francis, a former steeplechase jockey and rider for the Queen Mother, turned to writing after he could no longer ride. Thankfully for us, he applied that knowledge to a series of novels set in the British racing world, one each year from 1967-2000, with a few additional titles co-authored with his son, Felix. Francis books are a wonderful blend of tightly-plotted mystery, great research, and clean writing. Francis created everyman heroes who tapped inner reserves of strength and intelligence to outwit a colorful series of bullies, murderers, crooks, and deadbeats. These heroes mastered all kinds of professions, from painter to glassblower to investment banker to, yes, jump jockey. The ride, as it were, was always a thrill.

Godspeed, Dick Francis. Thanks for your body of work, and for being an author to emulate.

Shavasanaaaaah

2010-02-05T05:17:00.002-05:00

They've finally opened a yoga studio in my lovely little hometown. That may seem like indulgence, but believe me, when trying for fitness means loading up the car and a fight across traffic (therefore rendering much of the stress-relieving properties of fitness moot), having a studio that I could get to on foot is a real boon. I attended their opening day festivities, liked the energy, and was elated to see that they offered a class on the day I reallyreally like to go to class, so boom! There I was, mat at the ready...all alone. No one else in class that day (strange), but the pert little yogi there to teach me was all happy and grateful, so basically, I got a private yoga class yesterday.

Can I just say that there really are no words to describe how wonderful shavasana feels when you've worked your way through a class? No illusions about the rigor of the class itself--it'll be awhile before this body is ready to tackle ashtanga again--but working through an hour-plus of poses she chose to work my stiff hips and ease the rhinoceros of tension that seems to drape on my shoulders like an ungainly shrug made that ten minutes or so of corpse pose the best thing I did all day. And I had a good day at school, mind you.

There's something about letting yourself go that we moms and women rarely do. Just lying on the floor without a brain full of squirrels feels decadent. A guilty pleasure (though guilt and yoga shouldn't ever be roommates, if you can help it). That ten minutes in shavasana, covered with a blankie, no less (something Debbie does at the end of class for all her students), felt like the best thing I'd done for myself in ages. So of course, I bought a class card.

Love the WiiFit and my Rodney Yee-on-the-beach yoga tapes, but there's something about a calming studio with low lights, soft candles, a tease of incense, and soothing music that really does the trick for this stressed-out mom. I'll be there Thursday, and I blast-texted a huge bunch of friends to come play with. Let's hope they find out the wonders of shavasana for themselves.

Rev. Robertson FAIL

2010-01-14T19:35:00.000-05:00

I can't even begin to describe the ridiculousness that is Rev. Pat Robertson's comment on the Haiti earthquake, so I'm going to let this letter from the Minneapolis Star-Tribune say it for me:

Dear Pat Robertson, I know that you know that all press is good press, so I appreciate the shout-out. And you make God look like a big mean bully who kicks people when they are down, so I'm all over that action. But when you say that Haiti has made a pact with me, it is totally humiliating. I may be evil incarnate, but I'm no welcher. The way you put it, making a deal with me leaves folks desperate and impoverished. Sure, in the afterlife, but when I strike bargains with people, they first get something here on earth -- glamour, beauty, talent, wealth, fame, glory, a golden fiddle. Those Haitians have nothing, and I mean nothing. And that was before the earthquake. Haven't you seen "Crossroads"? Or "Damn Yankees"? If I had a thing going with Haiti, there'd be lots of banks, skyscrapers, SUVs, exclusive night clubs, Botox -- that kind of thing. An 80 percent poverty rate is so not my style. Nothing against it -- I'm just saying: Not how I roll. You're doing great work, Pat, and I don't want to clip your wings -- just, come on, you're making me look bad. And not the good kind of bad. Keep blaming God. That's working. But leave me out of it, please. Or we may need to renegotiate your own contract.
Best, Satan
LILY COYLE, MINNEAPOLIS

Lily Coyle, whoever you are, if I lived in the frozen hinterlands you would totally be my BFF. Sarcasm WIN, with a tip of the hat to C.S. Lewis's The Screwtape Letters.

She's Tidied Up, and I Can't Find Anything!!

2010-01-12T17:39:00.004-05:00

I have to say DH totally won the Christmas present sweepstakes. For the past several major events (anniversary, birthday, etc.), he's asked what I want. Jokingly (not really), I've been telling him I want a house elf. You know, my own personal Dobby who will keep things tidy and bring me a sammich when I'm having a snack attack at midnight. Amazingly, he found someone. Her name is Wendy.

She doesn't have pointy ears or magic, but she definitely knows how to tidy. She and her daughters arrived this morning, and when I came home from work, blam! My house is freakin' clean. Of course, there are stacks of things everywhere--books, boxes, and whatnot--but that's my fault. Surfaces are clean, floors are clean, bathrooms are clean. She even left fresh flowers on the table! Couldn't believe it. Still adjusting to the fact.

Obviously, Wendy and crew can be so efficient because they don't have an emotional attachment to our stuff. They move at will to get the job done. The one unfortunate thing is that nothing's where I left it. Which is fine--I can move stuff back--but my tiara is missing! This is the Queen of Writing World Tiara that I bought with the Puffs some time back, and it is a vital talisman for the writing. A must-find. Methinks a text to our house elf is in order.

That, and huge thanks. It's hard to admit that I really can't do it all. I know what to do, but making it happen is often another thing entirely. God bless the Wendys of the world, who can.

Roundup

2009-12-31T12:19:00.001-05:00

Closing the book on 2009--it's been a good year. Interesting. Weird. Frustrating. You know, the usual. I did manage to read 135 books (some re-reads, but mostly new titles). I'm finally unstuck with the current WIP, and even though it's moving more slowly than I'd like, it's moving. We took a family trip to Washington, DC (awesome!), rode/survived the train, built a jillion memories. Tonight, we're dropping the ball and watching fireworks at our friends' house and hoping to stay out of trouble, haha.

New decade tomorrow, fresh start, clean slate. Gotta love a new year.

Romance is the Shizz, Y'all

2009-12-29T23:05:00.000-05:00

Check out this terrific blog about romances posted to DailyKos by Laura Clawson, a self-proclaimed romance lover who also happens to be an Ivy-League Ph.D. with, as she says, "nary a pink sweatsuit in sight." She does a great job deconstructing many myths about romance novels and their readers. You know, the "porn for housewives" and "rape fantasy" memes that are so tiresome. As an aside, why is it that voracious male readers of bulletproof superspy novels are never mocked for their inability to become either 1) bulletproof or 2) superspies?

Brava, Ms. Clawson!

Why Men Shouldn't Write Advice Columns

2009-12-28T11:34:00.000-05:00

My college roommate sent me this in an email, but the .jpg isn't enlarging well. Here's a transcript, and enjoy!

Dear John:
I hope you can help me here. The other day, I set off for work, leaving my husband in the house watching TV. My car stalled, and then it broke down about a mile down the road, and I had to walk back to get my husband's help. When I got home, I couldn't believe my eyes. He was in our bedroom with the neighbor's daughter!
I am 32, my husband is 34 and the neighbor's daughter is 19. We have been married for 10 years. When I confronted him, he broke down and admitted they had been having an affair for the past six months. He won't go to counseling, and I'm afraid I am a wreck and need advice urgently. Can you please help?
Sincerely, Sheila

---

Dear Sheila:
A car stalling after being driven a short distance can be caused by a variety of faults with the engine. Start by checking that there is no debris in the fuel line. If it is clear, check the vacuum pipes and hoses on the intake manifold and also check all grounding wires. If none of these approaches solves the problem, it could be that the fuel pump itself is faulty,
causing low delivery pressure to the injectors.
I hope this helps,
John

Walter

Merry Christmas

2009-12-25T00:01:00.001-05:00

It came upon the midnight clear,
That glorious song of old,
From angels bending near the earth,
To touch their harps of gold:
"Peace on the earth, goodwill to men,
From heaven's all-gracious King."
The world in solemn stillness lay,
To hear the angels sing.

Still through the cloven skies they come,
With peaceful wings unfurled,
And still their heavenly music floats
O'er all the weary world;
Above its sad and lowly plains,
They bend on hovering wing,
And ever o'er its Babel sounds
The blessèd angels sing.

Yet with the woes of sin and strife
The world has suffered long;
Beneath the angel-strain have rolled
Two thousand years of wrong;
And man, at war with man, hears not
The love-song which they bring;
O hush the noise, ye men of strife,
And hear the angels sing.

And ye, beneath life's crushing load,
Whose forms are bending low,
Who toil along the climbing way
With painful steps and slow,
Look now! for glad and golden hours
come swiftly on the wing.
O rest beside the weary road,
And hear the angels sing!

For lo!, the days are hastening on,
By prophet bards foretold,
When with the ever-circling years
Comes round the age of gold
When peace shall over all the earth
Its ancient splendors fling,
And the whole world give back the song
Which now the angels sing.

--Edmund Sears, 1849

Happiness is...

2009-12-21T07:07:00.003-05:00

"...two kinds of ice cream...finding your skate key...telling the time! Happiness is learning to whistle, tying your shoe for the very first tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiime!"

Sorry! Got a little You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown there, but every time I hear someone say "happiness is," my brain starts singing. Turns out, according to the CDC, happiness is living in Florida. Or Louisiana, Hawaii, Tennessee, or Arizona, to round out the top five. The research apparently shows that states with a lot of sunshine and a laid-back lifestyle score high on happiness surveys.

The grumpiest? New York. I don't find that hard to believe. I've traveled to NYC several times, and although it's fascinating and wonderful, I can only take it for short bursts at a time. After a while, I want to see free-range trees instead of ones confined to a park, less traffic, fewer people, and nicer manners.

The thing that finally convinced me that NYC was a place to visit, and not to live, was a casual conversation I had with a group of writers and editors during RWA National several years ago. That week in July had apparently been uncomfortably warm for them (84 degrees and humidity in the high 40s), while I was loving every springlike minute of it (I'd flown up from temps in the mid-90s and a thunderstorm every afternoon, with accompanying humidity). I mentioned that I had been enjoying Central Park's grass, and how it felt so soft on my bare feet (St. Augustine sod looks nice, but isn't pleasant underfoot. Too stiff.). Ms. Editor Lady, a born-and-bred NYC girl, actually said, "I walked on grass once. I didn't like it." Once? You walked barefoot on grass ONCE??

I don't know about you, but a life where you have to wear shoes just isn't one I'm that interested in. Plus, those poor New Yorkers are socked in because of that storm. I'll be gallivanting about with my top down. Hate to rub it in, Northeasterners, but this truly is the life. And if your latest blizzard convinces you it's time to think about moving South, a few tips:

Things move a bit more slowly down here. Don't be rude. Learn to relax and enjoy.
We don't like living on top of each other, so ease up on all those building permits.
There are bugs here. Large ones. Deal with it.
It's hot. And humid. Deal with it.
Proximity to lakes and woods does not give you a license to get your wild on. Don't feed the alligators, morons. Or the bears.
Learn to wave at passing strangers in cars.
Just because we talk more slowly, it doesn't mean we're dumb. Check out Faulkner, Welty, Williams, and O'Connor if you doubt me.
Real Southern barbecue is the food of the gods, and soul food truly is food for the soul.
Smile. It won't hurt anything, and you probably won't get as many headaches.
Buy the convertible. You won't regret it.

Into the Wild

2009-12-10T11:03:00.002-05:00

I'm playing hooky today and tomorrow for one of my own personal children...Frack and the fifth grade class are having their class campout. This means mimi is in for a decidedly unglamorous overnight trip. No makeup, layers, and Lord knows what else. Of course, it's raining--Murphy's Law lurches into effect whenever a momentous occasion such as this one presents itself. Of course, it's expected to be cold tonight. Of course, I'll be in a cabin full of squealy girls.

I'll survive. Frack's worth it. Details when mimi drags her limp, soggy behind home tomorrow.

Whither Work?

2009-12-09T05:21:00.001-05:00

Teachers tend to be of two models: vampires or early birds. I'm in camp II. I hauled myself out of bed this morning just after four a.m. to do some paper grading, and lo and behold, our web-based gradebooks are down. They were down yesterday at this time as well, according to another teacher. If regular server maintenance is scheduled between four and five in the morning, they're going to infuriate a bunch of us. Can't you back that up until, say, 2:30 or 3? That seems a happy medium for us teacher types.

This grading is going to take foreeeeeeever at this rate...

Newbery Update: 1950s

2009-12-06T14:21:00.003-05:00

I'm at the halfway mark now, much later in the year than I'd planned. I need to get crackin' if I'm going to meet an end-of-the year deadline. Then again, this is the decade where things start to sound a bit more familiar. :

The Door in the Wall by Marguerite de Angeli - Another de Angeli work of historical fiction, Thee, Hannah! was a childhood favorite, so I was looking forward to this one. Like her other works, The Door in the Wall is a blend of impeccable research, lovely writing, fine pencil illustrations by the author, and an engaging story. Young Robin, the son of a Lord, is trapped in London during the Plague. When he loses the full use of his legs, he must find "the door in the wall" of his life that will enable him to serve his father and his King, since he can no longer become the knight he once dreamt of being.

Amos Fortune, Free Man by Elizabeth Yates - This biography celebrates the long life and journey of Amos Fortune, a free black whose life is commemorated in his adopted hometown of Jaffrey, New Hampshire. Captured by slavers in West Africa, prince At-Mun traverses the Middle Passage, is bought by a Quaker (!), and eventually buys his freedom. Not the most PC of retellings (Amos is kinda complacent in an Uncle Remus sort of way), but plenty of interesting detail.

Ginger Pye by Eleanor Estes - The Pye family is just adorable. Bird expert dad ("Call in Mister Pye!"), youngest and prettiest mom in town, and a couple of scrappy kids who adopt a puppy they name Ginger. Of course, Ginger's the perfect adorable dog--until he disappears! Or was he stolen? A bit of mystery and a lot of preciousness.

Secret of the Andes by Ann Nolan Clark - I swear, the folks who animated The Emporer's New Groove totally read this book. Llamas. Gold earplugs. Chicha. Mountain passages. Quests. This is the serious version, with no Yzma or
Kronk for comic relief. Nice writing, though. And a lot of folks chewing on coca leaves. Don't forget the panpipes!

...And Now Miguel by Joseph Krumgold - Coming of age in New Mexico. Miguel is the middle brother in a family of sheep herders. I learned a lot about sheep. Surprisingly, it was kinda fun. Miguel is the classic middle child, so reading this was a lot like reliving life with my sister (mimi is the oldest).

The Wheel on the School by Meindert DeJong - A small group of children try to figure out why no storks nest on the roofs of their small Dutch village. "Why are there no storks in Shora?" leads them to discover lots about themselves and their neighbors, especially older adults they'd formerly known only through (incorrect) town gossip. Delightful, actually.

Carry On, Mr. Bowditch by Jean Lee Latham - Bootstraps kind of story of a young man, Nathaniel Bowditch, who is brilliant at math but unable to pursue a formal education because of his family's fall into debt. He ends up educating himself and authoring a pioneering work of navigation. Seafaring and fun, with a strong "learning is great!" message.

Miracles on Maple Hill by Virginia Sorenson - In postwar Pennsylvania, Marly's family moves to her grandmother's farmhouse on Maple Hill in the hopes that her father, a former POW, will recover from what we now know is PTSD. Good neighbors and maple syrup work miracles!

Rifles for Watie by Harold Keith - Jeff Bussey, a Kansas farm boy, joins the Union Army to defend his family against Missouri bushwhackers and Cherokee patrols led by Chief Stand Watie. This Union soldier discovers that battle lines aren't always as clear as they seem and that friends may be made where you least expect them.

The Witch of Blackbird Pond by Elizabeth George Speare - This is the only book from this decade I read as a child. Kit Tyler, an orphan from Barbados, makes an impulsive decision to live with her aunt in Puritan Connecticut. Will she fit in and marry William Ashby, or will her differences group her with Hannah Tupper, the "witch" of the title?

And my favorite is..

The Wheel on the School!

I have to admit this was a surprise choice. I liked several of the books from the 1950s, but none was a standout favorite. The thing that put The Wheel on the School over the top was the novelty factor. Shora, the little Dutch town of the setting, was a fully-developed community, with the younger children learning a lot about themselves and about their older neighbors in their quest to attract lucky storks back on the roofs of the town. You might have heard of the illustrator, too, someone named Maurice Sendak? Perhaps he got his sailing ideas for Where the Wild Things Are from Shora.

Logjams

2009-12-02T05:40:00.002-05:00

mimi has finally had a breakthrough of sorts. I had to go all low-tech, printing out a calendar, but I can see holes in ye troublesome mauscript and now have some inkling of what to do with them!

See, this is the trouble with a NaNo book. You get so busy lunging from beginning to end, you don't see the pitfalls because you skip right over them. I've set a book in the fall and given my heroine an October birthday, and yet her birthday doesn't get a single mention aside from the sentence where she mentions that she was born during the World Series. And since this is a book about a woman recovering her identity, she'd probably have issues with being alone and divorced on her birthday. Hmm. There's a scene or two right there.

Cardboard foil character needs some work as well. She's basically a cutout evil blonde right this minute. Hero's impossibly heroic, too. Need to bang him up a bit as well. Good. Torture I can manage. Finally, finally I get some movement.

Too bad the novel squirrels are playing hell with my sleep schedule. Can't sleep, so I'm not waking up when I'm most productive. Waking later, so my morning is rushed and crazy. Oy. At least I have some direction now. That's gotta mean something.

Redesign in Progress!

2009-11-29T19:20:00.002-05:00

As you can see, we're undergoing a revamping here at the dish. A new look always takes some tinkering, so be looking for expanded book and blog lists as the days pass. Let me know what you think about the new look!

Not. Going. Shopping. Today.

2009-11-27T09:10:00.001-05:00

Period.

If I'm smart, I won't even get out of my pajamas.

Overflowing With Blessings

2009-11-26T11:19:00.003-05:00

Cornucopia

Etymology: Late Latin, from Latin

cornu copiae "horn of plenty"

This year, like every year, I have so much to be thankful for. This year, like every year, I get so busy worrying about what's wrong, I forget to be truly grateful for all that's right. Here are some things I'm thankful for today:

A family who sticks together, even when we get on each other's nerves.
A house that's a mess, which reminds me of the abundance in our lives.
Friends who cheer your triumphs and comfort you in times of need.
Neighbors with friendly smiles and a cup of flour when you're in a pinch.
A table overflowing with good food.
Children who understand true giving, like Frick, who helped cook and serve a meal for those less fortunate and learned how friendship really isn't about income, and Frack, whose giggle is enough to make anyone's life better.
A husband who puts up with a lot and still smiles whenever I come in the door.
So many more gifts I can't even count. That is the meaning of true blessing!

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!!

Queen, Meet the Muppets

2009-11-24T17:33:00.001-05:00

Freddie Mercury would be proud, methinks. Check out this CLASSIC version of "Bohemian Rhapsody," featuring all of our favorite muppets:

New Beginnings

2009-11-22T16:10:00.003-05:00

Today, our new senior pastor preached his first sermon. I had a feeling, since he's from SC originally, he'd remind me of my father. He did! Listening to that voice wasn't a stretch. He's a good speaker, avuncular, I think he'll make some people happy.

Of course, since it was his first day, we had a pretty full house at the services. That's good...and yet, I was a bit cranky. You see, a chunk of those folks filling the pews were returnees--members who bailed when things got tough, when the interim stretched longer than we thought, who basically took their toys and went home until things suited them.

I'm torn. On the one hand, I know I should probably be all "prodigal son" and kill the fatted calf and celebrate their return, but on the other hand, I want to ask them in a really loud voice WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? The church still needed people. The missions the church supports could have used their hands. The work goes on whether you're having a hissy fit or not. DH and I could really have stalked off with a clear conscience, considering that we were good friends with our former pastor and his wife (who some of the returnees treated horribly), but we stuck it out. We were invested in the church, you see, not worshiping the pastor.

Let's hope the new guy gets a better deal than the old guy. The way we treated him wouldn't meet many good definitions of "Christian."

Revision Blues

2009-11-15T06:40:00.004-05:00

I used to be so positive about revising. I loved printing out copies of a draft on the backs of old paper, whipping out a favored pen--in purple, turquoise, hot pink, or some other fun color--and having at it. Revised pages had notations, additions, scribbles up the margins and on the back, arrows pointing hither and yon as I moved around sentences and paragraphs. With my first book, my key revision tools were a pair of scissors and a roll of Scotch tape. I literally cut-and-pasted the opening to that book to cure a bad case of backstory dump.

Now I'm in the doldrums, to borrow an image from one of my favorite children's books. I can't seem to move forward or back. My tools have upgraded since the scissors and paste days (all hail Scrivener!), but now the process is bogging down. I'm not sure exactly why, but I suspect the culprit is (gulp) NaNoWriMo.

A peek at the sidebar lists three books, all in the revision stage. These three books were all birthed during the frenzy that is NaNoWriMo. None is complete. Their stories are--I did manage to get to "The End" on all of them, but they're in varying states of crazy. Read long enough, and you'll find plenty of all-caps notations like SOMETHING NEEDS TO HAPPEN HERE or NEEDS A BETTER TRANSITION or something like that. My mind knew where to go, but NaNo doesn't provide you with enough time to mull over things, and let me say, my natural writing process involves lots of mulling. I spend twice, even three times as much time thinking over a chapter as I do committing it to paper.

I think the problem lies in the discovery. I am a seat-of-the-pants style writer. I have a general idea of where I'm going (usually a very clear opening scene and an equally clear closing scene, with a lot of mist in the middle), so I've found it easy to write a general synopsis of the book. As I go along, ideas will pop up that I incorporate into that bare skeleton. I used to cut up the synopsis, too--I'd tape pieces onto separate sheets of paper representing future chapters, then when inspiration struck, I'd scribble that dialogue snippet or piece of business on the appropriate chapter and go on my merry way. In that way, Scrivener works as an electronic replacement of my battered red clipboard. I can jot ideas on a new card and rearrange at will as the book takes shape. I'd keep at this, chapter by chapter, as surprises revealed themselves, characters did unexpected things, and odd bits of business found their homes. Writing that way, every book built momentum toward the conclusion I'd already envisioned, and first drafts were darned close to finished length. Then, out came the pens.

Now, I have three "finished" plots, thanks to NaNoWriMo, and the revision has been painful. I think my brain thinks those books are complete and doesn't really want to fool much with them. Of course, when you reread you find all kinds of wrong that need fixing, but it takes so much longer than it used to (or seems, anyway). It's not fun. And I used to be the "Revision is FUN!" poster girl. Hmm.

So, do I abandon NaNo and the rush of getting something completed, or go back to my old, slow ways? Anyone else out there have the same issues? mimi could use some help.

Noted

2009-11-12T21:11:00.003-05:00

Sometimes low tech is the way to go. I keep a little notepad by my sink--the last place I look before I leave the house--to remind me of stuff. This is the notepad I grab when one of those late-night squirrels runs through my brain right when I'm trying to go to sleep. It's an interesting collection of random...here are a few of the entries (in no particular order):
-----
Jury?
citi
tix/hotel DC
Gator grad?
-----
K--cancel in evening!
birthday present
Einstein?
stuff off table
Sam Flax
-----
Visor out of car
badge to D
-----
Pack for Jax
DRYER
lasagna throwdown Sun.
-----
tetrazzini
softball when?
baseball when?
piano 7:30
-----
CFRW
Frack--art
hotel folio
email proposal
-----
Zumba
-----
youth potluck food
G testimony
Mama-pickups
M/T--when to Clemson?
-----
laundry
dogs--vet?
pack for Thurs.
paper/mail
-----
Call M
Mama
dogs
Costco!
-----
pack camp
Moo--lunch
MA
Tue--N?
Wed--stuff 2 Dream Agent
C!
*AMP
-----
So, totally weird brain, or what?

Tallahasses

2009-11-10T21:24:00.001-05:00

Today, the vampire bats of education flapped down our hallways and invaded our classrooms. Yep, it's visitation day. We've been at Defcon 2 for a couple of weeks now. It apparently isn't enough to give Florida schools a letter grade based on one set of test scores; now we have a "level" to go with. Our level means that we get bat teams a couple of times a year to make sure we're teaching right or something. Honestly, it feels like we're living through the education version of Dean Wormer's "double secret probation."

I am SO SICK of bureaucrats who think they have the magic answer to our education problems. There's no telling how long it's been since they've been in a classroom, if ever. But man, do they have some crazy ideas about how learning's supposed to happen. Case in point: write the state benchmark, complete with its arcane numbering system, on the board in one particular place. Guess the magic key to reluctant teen readers is to slap an "LA.A.910.9.blah.yada" up front, and the clouds part, the angels sing, and hood rats suddenly develop a craving for John Irving. The kids in my room know what we're doing. Benchmarks? They don't need no stinkin' benchmarks!

Given our abysmal state grades, I think the bat brigade was expecting a scene out of Lean on Me, complete with graffiti and freshman getting trapped in lockers. Surprise, surprise...we have a close community that's working hard, kids who respond to their teachers, homework. You know, school. Here's your clue, folks: generational poverty. When you find it, you find academic issues, pure and simple. Doesn't mean our kids can't learn or aren't intelligent, it means they don't have backup. These kids aren't going to museums and computer camps in the summer. They don't have laptops and Internet access and books on the shelves. If they're lucky, they got Sesame Street when they were little instead of Jerry Springer and inattentive babysitters. Many of them aren't. Hence, our issues.

*sigh* One more adventure in our high stakes environment. Are we ready to have a substantive talk about testing pressure, please??

Cookie Cookie Cookie Starts with "C"

2009-11-05T21:42:00.000-05:00

In honor of Sesame Street's 40th anniversary, Google has created custom logos of the classic Muppet characters. Here's today's...my favorite guy:

Yesterday featured Big Bird. Wonder who else is showing up? I'm betting on Elmo, but I sure hope Oscar the Grouch and The Count get some props. And Mr. Snuffleupagus. Then again, how would we know he's there, since only Big Bird's supposed to see him? Dang, I love revisiting my childhood!!

Emo Vampires

2009-11-04T05:05:00.002-05:00

My thoughts exactly. Sort of. "I'll be back when the world grows a pair...of fangs." *snerk*

Pumpkinheads

2009-10-30T14:44:00.002-04:00

You can tell it's fall (even though it's 90 degrees here) because suddenly, everything in the world is pumpkin-flavored. Lattes. Bagels. Cream cheese. Cheesecakes. Beer. Pancakes. Coffee. Breakfast breads. You name it, it's pumpkin.

All I can say is "blech."

Not a fan of pumpkin. Never have been. Can't understand why people get all fangirl-squee over the pumpkin pie at Thanksgiving when there's a perfectly good pecan pie right next to it on the sideboard. Give me a sweet potato pie any day over pumpkin.

Am I just weird, or is anyone else baffled by pumpkinmania?

No, No, NaNo

2009-10-28T18:52:00.001-04:00

Alas, mimi has come to the devastating decision that she will not be participating in NaNoWriMo this year. This is where mimi's latent OCD rears its ugly head because now her three-year streak has been broken. Plus, this year's icon has fun colors instead of last year's barf brown, alas.

However, it's still a barrel of fun, so if you've been pondering, hie on over to the WriMo website, sign in, and dive in. It's fun, you get tons of writing done, and you get a cool web badge like this one to display when you "win."

But not mimi, not this year. She has to stop listening to the siren call of the new hot idea and finish the dang rewrite already. Pray for her. The siren at Chez mimi is awful loud.

Slackerville

2009-10-20T21:20:00.002-04:00

mimi has been a very naughty monkey about keeping up with her blog lately. At least twice a week, she has a brilliant idea for a blog topic, and then whammo! Craziness at home or school and it flies out the ol' ear nary to return. Now that the pile of grading is no longer casting a shadow so long she believes she lives in permanent shade, mimi should be better about updates. But you know what they say about "should."

Divided by Five

2009-10-06T18:12:00.000-04:00

Big doin's today. Tonight at exactly 9:08 pm (CST), mimi hits the 4-5. I am officially in my mid-forties. Amazingly, it feels not unlike mid-thirties, except I spend a lot more time in the car driving Frick and Frack to music lessons and baseball and softball and what have you. I could stand to lose a few and have ridiculous snow on the roof for a Florida gal, but the wrinkles on my face are earned and basically tell the story of someone who smiles a lot. Not bad for this point, huh?

Cripes, Tallahassee!

2009-10-05T21:23:00.001-04:00

Today was the first day I attempted to foist the new state-mandated testing on my students, and let me just say that there are military terms that aren't for mixed company that perfectly capture the essence of today's fun. Terms beginning with the word "cluster" or expressed with the acronym FUBAR.

Needless to say, when the wizards in Tally tell the entire state to hold off on testing until later, then open the floodgates to a small window of completion, they're asking for trouble. They're asking for more trouble when they--knowing that the opening sequence will be accessed hundreds of thousands of times--advise the districts to purchase and maintain cache servers to make things run more smoothly. Um, clue. These are the same districts that have been laying people off right and left, but they have money to blow on purchasing, installing, and maintaining special servers just for your new brainstorm of a test?? Let the people say DUH.

I got my kids almost through second period, roughly 9 am, when things started to bog down (the Panhandle's awake!). By third period, the entire network crashed and didn't come back up until close to the end of the day. Brilliant planning, idjits.

So we're not done, and now the teaching part is equally FUBAR. Testing is, yet again, holding learning hostage. Data-driven my...

Hugging a Porcupine

2009-09-30T05:09:00.003-04:00

DH brought a book home from the library about being the parents of an adolescent the other day. It had a perfect title: How to Hug a Porcupine. And since, more often than not, I'm getting a faceful of quills when trying to deal with Frick these days, it's proven to be sound advice, more often than not.

I always thought I'd be a better parent of a teenager than a young child since I have so many years of experience with teenagers at school. I love younger kids, but some of their habits (especially the whining) drive. me. up. the. wall. I was suuuuuure I'd be so much more effective once they started to creep up in the double digits, age-wise.

What's that old proverb about wanting to make God laugh? Yeah.

Anyhoo, Mr. Frick is becoming, more and more, Mr. Prickly. Everything's cool until I suddenly cross some unseen border, then WHAM! Quillface. Case in point, last night's homework. I'm trying to deal calmly with him, and he gets nearly apoplectic. And doesn't finish. So now I need to wake him up early so he can finish. Never mind that he asked me to wake him early; I'm sure to get zapped for trying it. Open House was last night, and I can see clearly what needs to be done, but he's not hearing it. He knows better (even though he's trying to make algebra do things that are mathematically impossible). He's offloading all his issues on a different issue that even he admits isn't the issue. It's maddening.

And then he turns around and is the most generous, hilarious, wonderful tween in the universe. It's enough to drive you crazy.

Someone who's survived these years, please let me know my face isn't going to be permanently perforated. I'm all for patience and forbearance, but let's face it, they don't sell those qualities at Targét. At some point, the tank'll be dry, and I'll still be in a faceoff with a bristling little rodent. Help!

Bringin' the Heat

2009-09-26T16:31:00.004-04:00

'Scuse the baseball analogy, but I'm fixin' to make it do double duty in a sec. Today was opening day of fall ball for both Frick and Frack, since Frack's softball opener was rained out Thursday night. So it's been a loooooooooooong day at the ballpark. BallparkS, that is. Up early to take Frack to her away game, then 1-1/2 hours in the growing heat. By 10:30 we'd already reached the high 80s. Thankfully, the girls won, 9-2, so those hours of sweating it out in her polyester triple-knit uniform--with pants, no less--were worth it. Took her sweaty self home for some lunch, then off to our home field for Frick's baseball opener at 1. By then it was 92 degrees in the shade, with humidity of 63% or more, so the heat index was 101. Since Frick's now in junior baseball, we're talking seven innings of slow poaching. Thankfully, we had hitters and they had weak pitching, so we got called after the third batter in the sixth because of the ten-run rule. Yay!

Back home to find--instead of blessed air conditioning--a HOT house. The fan's blowing, but nothing's cooling. This happened the other day, too. Yegods. Flipped the breaker back and forth, praying that it'll start blowing cool, and hightailed it out of there for a Panera Bread. Free Wi-Fi and unlimited iced tea refills. And they've brought back blondies! Thanks to the Lord for tiny mercies. I may survive until bedtime after all...assuming the air kicks on.

Band Geek WIN

2009-09-25T23:15:00.000-04:00

Tonight was middle school band night at the high school where the denizens of Chez mimi are zoned to attend. Since I'm a proud graduate of that same school, I was especially interested in having young Frick, my aspiring tubist, attend. You see, he plays in a wonderful middle school band. The problem is, most of the kids at his middle school go to a nearly lily-white suburban marquee high school--let's call it FooFoo High School, just for funzies--with a small slice going to Frick's future alma mater, which has a much more diverse population. As a result, his band director is all over whatever happens at FooFoo High and totally neglects OUR high school. Or so it seems (mimi does admit to a bit of touchiness and snobbery when it comes to OUR school vs. FooFoo High, which is populated with teens who drive far nicer cars than the teachers and have the attitude to match*). So Frick has been hearing all about how WONDERFUL and FABULOUS FooFoo High is and bubkes about his own school.

Until last night. I bring him to the band room--which was the library when I attended--sign him in, and he disappears into the tuba section. They bond immediately over his cool mouthpiece and he turns on the Parental Ignoring Beam and I leave. I know when I'm superfluous. Still, I worry. He's only in seventh grade. He's very very small compared to those big high school kids and their humongous Sousaphones. So an hour later I text him: Having fun? Glad you went? Do you want one of us to be there while you're at the game? He texts back:

Yes, yes, and no.

Ooooookay then. We leave him to his fun. DH goes to pick him up at the end of a very long night, and he arrives home brandishing a sheaf of tuba arrangements for things they played in the stands, a grin wider than a bass drum, and total excitement about AlmaMater Band. Yay!!

The moral of the story? NEVER underestimate the power of music.

*DISCLAIMER: One of mimi's partners in crime, the Bed Bandit herself, has a daughter attending FooFoo High. Mr. and Mrs. Comic Book's son goes there as well. I personally adore these two children and their younger siblings who will be attending FooFoo High because they live on the other side of our lovely hometown. But that's all the love FooFoo's getting from me. So there.

What Is It With These People??

2009-09-23T16:56:00.001-04:00

I don't know what they're drinking in Tallahassee, but apparently now there's yet ANOTHER test we have to administer our kids to find out what's up with their godforsaken reading scores. This one's computer-based, though, and will take up two day's worth of class time that I now can't spend instructing them. Yeah, that makes sense.

You see, apparently the right TEST is going to be the key to unlock why teen readers don't score well on standardized reading exams. Get the right test and the right spreadsheet numbers and presto!! Scores miraculously soar. Right? I mean, it's not like my professional judgment can do anything to pinpoint what they have issues with. You know, by assigning reading and asking them to write things that reveal what they comprehend. It's the almighty SPREADSHEET that will cure all. I'm sorry; I didn't know that you needed a minor in statistics to be a competent English teacher, but whatever. I can play along. But it won't stop me from wondering whether the people drinking that funky Tallahassee Kool-Aid have ever been in a classroom with actual children. Because, after all, children respond so well to more tests when they're having issues with a test. You try convincing a teenager who's figured out that the only scores that matter are the ones that tell you you get a diploma when you graduate (FCAT) or get you into the college of your choice (SAT/ACT) or college credit (AP) that he or she needs to buckle down and work on additional test number 5,297 because THIS IS IMPORTANT and YOU SHOULD TAKE IT SERIOUSLY. Those benchmark tests and Edusoft assessments and yes, our new silver bullet, FAIR (Is there a job in the Florida DOE just for making up acronyms?) are the keys to data-driven instruction. Which soon will be all data and no instruction unless they knock some of that testing crap back down to a manageable, sane size.

Plus, to add insult to injury, the mandatory training sessions were held on the day before and the day progress reports were due to be submitted. Into a new online-based system, no less, so it's the first time we'd ever used it to post grades. The same day the increased server activity crashed the server. The same day some brain trust at the county office wiped out the student/parent database, so none of the kids could check grades online and were freaking out because why worry about your grade until the day it's going in?? Sheesh!

If I were in charge (and that would never happen, because although I have lovely party manners, I do not suck up well), I would put a cadre of really smart teachers in charge of all these new state mandates. Anything the legislature suddenly believes is a good idea would be required of them before they can require it of Florida's students. Plus, legislators would be required by law to work for a minimum of one week per year as a substitute teacher before they would be permitted to introduce legislation which governs how I do my job. You know, the one I've trained for (two degrees!) and have twenty years' experience doing. With an army of successful college graduates to back me up, thankyouverymuch. Otherwise, shut your piehole. And take your freakin' test with you.

10 Things You Think Are Cool

2009-09-15T21:21:00.000-04:00

Facebook. Amazingly, it erases years and awkward social boundaries.
iPhones. Totally want one, but will wait patiently for T-Mobile to get its act together.
My kids. They are wonderfully talented and funny, and sometimes I wonder how it's possible that I'm their mom.
Convertibles. Once I owned my first (a 1991 Mercury Capri), I was hooked for life.
British humor. The world is a better because of Monty Python, Blackadder, and Simon Pegg and Nick Frost.
Jugglers. 'Cause I can't do it.
The Big Bang Theory. The TV show, that is, for making geekdom cool. And hilarious.
Baseball. It's a thinking fan's sport. If you think it's boring, you probably just don't get it.
Thomas Jefferson. Because every country needs a founding genius, and we got him. Go visit his personal library at the Library of Congress or his home, Monticello, and you'll see what I mean.
Marriage. Despite all the day-to-day frustration and responsibility and all, it's absolutely awesome to come home to your best friend every day.

Carb Coma

2009-09-13T19:50:00.003-04:00

Today we had the second annual "Lasagna Throwdown" to benefit the music department at the church, and we're all comatose from the great food! Mexican lasagnas, traditional lasagnas, seafood lasagnas, sauces, more pasta, desserts...the South Beach people would be appalled. But we were happy!

Even more fun, some of us performed the Silent Monks' version of the Hallelujah Chorus. I was the "of" in "King of Kings," DH was "lu," and Frick was the short monk. Check out this version, performed by one of our local high schools, and you'll see what I mean. Fun stuff! Yummy stuff! Time for a nap!

10 Bad Habits You Can't Break

2009-09-08T21:16:00.001-04:00

Procrastinating
Chewing my cuticles
Relying on deadline adrenaline
Avoiding financial issues
Not carrying cash
Facebooking too much
Ditto with infosnacking
Letting the laundry pile up
Avoidance behaviors
Not exercising

Much Ado About Nothing: Presidential Speech Edition

2009-09-08T17:43:00.001-04:00

Just in case you've been camping on the moon for the past couple of weeks, today President Obama delivered his socialist agenda brainwashing speech to innocent children, better known to those of us who actually use our brains to think as a Presidential Back-to-School address. Seems President Obama, who knows from both his and the First Lady's backgrounds that a solid education is the key to success, wanted to remind the kids that their futures were in their own hands, and their job is to work hard in school, persevere, and watch all that work bear fruit.

How very pull-yourself-up-by-your-own-bootstraps of him. Just the kind of hard work, self-reliant, achieve your American Dream kind of thing the conservatives have been harping on for years. Unfortunately, there are some truly loose screws shouting from the right side of the aisle these days. Even more unfortunately, a sizable chunk of the populace is listening to them without thinking much about what they're actually saying.

These are the same folks who got all bent out of shape when people criticized President G.W. Bush. As in, "How dare you criticize the President? How un-Patriotic! How un-American!" Now that their guy's not in the Oval Office, it's open season on Obama--and that's being patriotic and American.

Look, folks. Dissent is an American value. The Declaration of Independence and the Constitution don't guarantee that we're all going to hold hands and sing "Kumbaya." You don't have to agree with President Obama. You don't have to like him. But, to be fair, if you demand that the office of the President deserves respect (as I heard so many preaching during the W years), then put your money where your flappin' gums are and respect the man. It's possible to disagree without being disagreeable--and I'm not just talking about the conservatives. There are some lefties who've abandoned their good manners and foam at the mouth as rabidly and unattractively as the freaked-out tea party crowd. Extremism of any stripe is annoying and dangerous. And, most of the time, downright wrong.

Thinking Americans of all stripes can find much to praise in today's message. They can also find much to discuss. DISCUSS being the key word. Thou canst not discuss when thou art shouting.

I think President Obama's words were on the mark. He, at least, seems to understand that the work of education is spread among a large group of people. Today, he addressed the group that's often left out of the "let's improve our schools" debates--the ones actually doing the work in the desks. He tells the kids,

"By the end of the day, we can have the most dedicated teachers, the most supportive parents, and the best schools in the world — and none of it will matter unless all of you fulfill your responsibilities."

Preach on, Mr. President. If you're lucky, maybe some of their parents were paying attention.

R.I.P. Reading Rainbow

2009-08-28T20:08:00.001-04:00

Book lovers, get out your black armbands. Today was the last broadcast of PBS's wonderful children's series Reading Rainbow.

For those of us weaned on The Electric Company and Sesame Street, the advent of Reading Rainbow occurred after we'd progressed from picture books to chapters. Even so, it was easy to get sucked in when a younger sibling or eventually a child of our own sat, rapt, listening to LeVar "Geordi LaForge" Burton (or even Kunta Kinte, for those of us old enough to remember watching all seven nights of Roots on broadcast TV) read aloud.

Reading Rainbow's approach was simple: pick a book, read it, make connections to people and places in the real world, encourage kids to hit the library. Those of us lucky enough to have parents who made library trips a priority don't realize how vital the show was for kids who never went. Now that I'm a teacher, I can tell the difference. Man, can I tell the difference.

There's a theory floating out there that a shift in the Federal Department of Education's priorities--from whole works of literature to phonics-based instruction--helped kill off a show that exulted in books in their entirety. I'd hate to think that's true, but the current slavering over "data-driven instruction" kicks holistic anything in the teaching world to the curb in favor of spreadsheets. Or things easily measured on spreadsheets. Read: standardized tests.

Of course, there's nothing standardized about learning to read. Or loving to read. I fell in love with words early, thanks to a steady diet of Hop on Pop, Go, Dog! Go!, Dr. Seuss's Sleep Book, and other childhood classics (I could hear my father's voice in my head when I read them to my own children). Too many kids with busy or absent parents never did. And now they no longer have LeVar's voice, either. That's a shame. Too bad for us that we're so obsessed with numbers that we overlook the magic of words. Too bad for the kids that they're paying the price.

Whooooaaaah...Back on the Chain Gang!!

2009-08-24T16:33:00.002-04:00

Not really, but today is the first day of school! Kids are in and excited, and my feet are *killing* me!! That's what I get for wearing cute shoes with my Day 1 outfit, though. It's all my fault. I'll be back in Crocs tomorrow (the ladylike ones, not the clown shoes).

So far, pretty good, if you don't count the network crashing halfway through the day so we couldn't do attendance or anything. The kids were nice, I eased through the "wah wah wah wah" Charlie Brown's teacher monologues about the Code of Conduct and gave everybody homework. Yep, mimi means business right out of the box when she's in TeacherLady mode. It won't be hard...unless they think I'm kidding about the summer reading that's due next Friday. The phrase "world of hurt" will never mean so much!!

If you can judge the school year by the first day, this will be a good one. I'm looking forward to it. Probably not as forward as I'm looking to getting in my jammies, but you know what I mean. Happy 2009-2010 school year, everyone!

Dumbass, Party of One

2009-08-14T23:02:00.004-04:00

Ever have one of those days? Today was mine. I'm ferrying Frick and Frack and a friend to a skating party on an end of town I try never to explore, if I can help it. Then, while trying to get turned back around in the second most badly-designed parking lot in the world, I get distracted and WHAM! I hit a curb, Inga lurches unbecomingly, scrape, curse, I manage to cut a hole in the sidewall of my tire. Hole in the sidewall means I have to buy a new tire. Let me remind you, August is ramen month for teachers. I don't have $136 and change for a new tire. Even if I did, I wouldn't want to spend it correcting an act of dumbassitude like hitting a freakin' curb--despite the fact that it was one of those stupid curbs in the middle of an ocean of asphalt. You know, the ones they put there for pretty, or something. Like the big white lines aren't enough to alert people to PARK THE CAR HERE.

And of course, it's a special order tire, so I can't get it put on until Monday. Poor Inga has to creep around town at fewer than 50 mph (her Fast is sooooo not liking that idea) with the full-size spare and its yellow Look! I have a FLAT! sticker. Gah. If I go back to bed, can I wake up to a re-do?

Blowout, Schmowout

2009-08-13T15:53:00.004-04:00

Got my fresh back to school haircut today (yay!) and decided to let Ms. M, my hilarious Sicilian/Greek (how's that for a nice, quiet house to grow up in?) give me a blowout. mimi is usually all about the curls, but today, why not something different?

Know what? Me no likey. It feels fun, but MAN, is straight hair annoying. It's In. My. Face. In my eyelashes. In my mouth. Hanging over my eyes. And, since this is Florida and there's about as much water in the air outside as there is in your normal shower, it's already starting to curl back up. To which I say, cool.

It's taken years, but I've made peace with my curls. I know how to take care of them so I'm not tripping the hair frizztastic every day. They reflect my personality--I'm far more bouncy than sleek. The only qualm I've had with them is the whole curls + grey hair = frumpy (check out the thinking about letting your hair be the color it wants here and here). Now, not so sure. The blowout looks okay, but it is so not me.

So I have to wonder, what is it about the blowout that makes it the Holy Grail of Hair? I have curly friends who would kill rather than part with thier flatirons. One even got a blowout in a foreign country rather than go wavy/curly in front of a bunch of foreigners she'll never see again. I've already fought the haircolor war. Why are so many women willing to enslave themselves to gallons of product and a blowdryer every morning? My life's crazy enough without having to fight this hair--which fights back a couple of classifications above me, thank you very much--in the humidity which is my natural swamp. Or have I just, in one of the phrases I hate so much from women's magazines and the like, "let myself go"? Thoughts?

UPDATE: By suppertime, my hair resembled Marlo Thomas's in That Girl. We're talking full late '60s flip. By the 11:00 news, curl city. DNA WIN.

Newbery Update: 1940s

2009-08-10T10:18:00.000-04:00

I'm noticing a shift in the kinds of books being selected for the Newbery Medal. Perhaps because WWII dominated the early forties, the books are much shorter than some of the ones I've already read. Also, there seems to have been a nudge (deliberate or not) to balance the list toward more "boy" books than the slew of girl-focused titles chosen in the 1930s, like Hitty, Her First Hundred Years, Invincible Louisa, Caddie Woodlawn, and Thimble Summer. That said, here's what bubbled up in the '40s:

Daniel Boone by James Daugherty - Non-PC biography of the renowned explorer and surveyor. The Native American tribes featured here are pretty darned bloodthirsty and stereotypical, and our intrepid hero quite intrepid. And unlucky. Great explorer, not the best follow-through.

Call It Courage by Armstrong Sperry - I saw this book once; it was called Cast Away and starred Tom Hanks! Not really--in this, Mafatu, the son of a Polynesian chief, is afraid of the sea that claimed his mother's life and nearly his. His journey to self-confidence and his becoming the promise of his name--Stout Heart--provides a peek at a lesser-known, yet fascinating culture.

The Matchlock Gun by Walter Edmonds - This one's suprisingly short and liberally illustrated. Basically, a retelling of a family story that's been handed down since the early years of the French and Indian war. At the center, a young Dutch-German boy, his mother and sister, and a Spanish-made matchlock gun. On the outside, the Indian war party his father's gone off to fight as part of the militia in New York's upper Hudson valley. You can guess the ending.

Adam of the Road by Elizabeth Gray Vining - Adam is the son of Roger, a traveling minstrel in medieval England. Adam wants to become as respected a minstrel as his father, but he's stuck in school. Worse, Adam and his father get separated, and a rival minstrel steals Adam's dog. Adam's journey provides a window into all levels of medieval life.

Johnny Tremain by Esther Forbes - I can't believe I got to be this old without reading this, especially since I experienced the American Bicentennial in all its red, white, and blue glory as a child. Tons of historical information, well-written, and pretty engaging. Just not enough to make Johnny one of my favorites.

Rabbit Hill by Robert Lawson - Written and illustrated by Robert Lawson (who also did the illustrations for Adam of the Road and DH's favorite book ever, Ferdinand), Rabbit Hill tells the story of the New Folks who come to the Big House and how the different animals react to their arrival. Watch for a cameo by St. Francis of Assisi. Written for the younger Newbery readers, but charming all the same.

Strawberry Girl by Lois Lenski - My kids beat me to this one since they started elementary school in Florida. Birdie Boyer and her family move from North Carolina to the Florida hammock, where they try to raise strawberries despite interference from them mean ol' Slaters down the road. An interesting peek at Florida Cracker culture that sounded really, really familiar!!

Miss Hickory by Carolyn Sherwin Bailey - Miss Hickory, a twig woman with a hard, hard hickory nut head, is forced to adapt through a long winter when her neat little corncob house is taken over by a chipmunk family. Fanciful descriptions of New England woodland life, and a surprising ending.

The Twenty-One Balloons by William Pène du Bois - Steampunk's origins, maybe? Professor William Sherman takes off from San Francisco in a balloon and is rescued a month later in the wreckage of twenty balloons...in the Atlantic Ocean! Inventions, ballooning, diamonds, and Krakatoa. Very, very fun.

King of the Wind by Marguerite Henry - I adored this book as a child (still haven't outgrown my horse phase, actually), so it was a treat to "have" to revisit it. This is the fictionalized story of the Godolphin Arabian, one of the three foundation sires of all Thoroughbred racehorses, and Agba, the "slim brown horseboy" who accompanies him on his journey from Sultan Mulai Ismael's stables in the Kingdom of Morocco.

And my favorite is...

King of the Wind!

Maybe it's because I never really got over my horse phase, maybe it's because this was a beloved childhood book already, but I still think King of the Wind is the best of the bunch. Wesley Dennis's gorgeous illustrations bring to life the cultures of 18th century Morocco, France, and England, Henry's lyrical writing is a joy to read and packs in so much historical detail so beautifully, you don't realize how much you've learned until you find yourself nodding at unrelated books long, long after you've closed the cover of this one.

Best Seller ≠ Best Writer

2009-08-08T08:58:00.004-04:00

mimi is obsessive when it comes to her reading. If I pick up a book, I generally finish it. Of course, that takes some vetting. I'll browse an opening chapter or back cover copy before I commit (mimi is not a reading ho). Once I commit, though, I'm in 'til the end. Normally, this is a good thing. Unfortunately, not so much with the book I finished last night.

The book in question was a paperback original by a New York Times bestselling author. I've read books by her in the past and enjoyed them. I actually got to meet her this past summer at a publisher-sponsored booksigning, and I'm sorry to say that her personality didn't match her work. One of the most humorless women I've ever met, and that's saying something. But I like books and I like reading and my sister likes her, too, so I went away generally happily with her books. Happily until last night.

The book in question featured a plotline I like, so that was fun. Interesting opening. Then I hit the swamp. Research dumped in, paragraph after paragraph. Brand names sprinkled hither and yon for no discernable effect except to have brand names. Clunky sentences. And I mean clunky. I read one out loud, and my ten-year-old daughter recast it better. An alpha hero who's really an asshat. Bitchy women wearing their "Spunky!" T-shirts who weren't fooling anyone. But I struggled on, and when I got to the end, I didn't get the sigh. Usually I get a sigh. Often, tears. But a sigh, at least, that everything worked out the way it should. This time, not so much. Our heroine wasn't a Mary Sue (although she was close, with all that "My life is so screwed up!!" flailing about), but he was still an asshat at the time he suddenly realized He Loved Her, and she took him anyway. Blech.

The lesson? "NYT Bestseller" on the spine of a book doesn't guarantee a great read, even if it's the type of book you usually adore. Some authors are mean. Having an author brand is no substitute for clean writing and characters who aren't asshats. Sorry, Ms. Author, but you've lost a reader. And mimi's learned some things to apply to her own writing career that she needs to go apply right now.

I <3 School Supplies!

2009-08-06T17:13:00.000-04:00

I don't know about you, but I've always been way more excited in the Office Depot or the Staples than I have ever been in the shoe department. Yes, I'm warped. But still, there's something about fresh, new Dixon Ticonderoga pencils, Pink Pearl erasers, and riffly sheets of notebook paper that just gives me the shivers. New school supplies mark the beginning of an unblemished school year, where I can teach everything perfectly and all my students soak up the learnin' like baby sponges. One week in, and it's all screwed to hell (so much for perfectionism), but right now, it's still perfect. And that makes me very happy indeed.

Ten Favorite Characters from Television

2009-08-04T17:19:00.003-04:00

Gil Grissom, CSI. He's brilliant but has issues dealing with people. Endlessly surprising.
Sheriff Andy Taylor, The Andy Griffith Show. Just the kind of smart Southern gentleman we could use more of.
The "It's..." Man (Michael Palin), Monty Python's Flying Circus. He's a favorite not for himself, but for what comes right after we see him.
Julia Sugarbaker, Designing Women. Who wouldn't love to be able to tell off a jackass who so richly deserves it, and in that droll Dixie Carter voice, to boot?
Oscar the Grouch. Classic.
Peggy Hill, King of the Hill. She's the Texas State Boggle Champion and one heckuva substitute teacher.
Betty Suarez, Ugly Betty. Cheering for Betty in that snake pit of an office is like rooting for the insecure seventh grade girl inside us all.
President Jed Bartlett, The West Wing. Too bad real politics doesn't work out this well.
Pee Wee Herman, Pee Wee's Playhouse. Because at Chez mimi, we never get enough of screaming when someone says the secret word.
Blossom, The Powerpuff Girls. For obvious reasons. Obvious, at least, to my partners in crime. Hey, bossiness and ice breath come in handy.

I had to work to come up with this list, so I guess that's good. TV hasn't quite rotted my brain. Yet.

The Gobi Desert

2009-07-30T08:48:00.000-04:00

About 150 pages into her last novel, The Buccaneers, Edith Wharton wrote in her diary,

What is writing a novel like?
1. The beginning: A ride through a spring wood
2. The middle: the Gobi desert
3. The end: A night with a lover
I am now in the Gobi desert.

Honey, I'm camped there with you, and I think the camel ran off.

One plus to meeting tête-a-tête with Dream Agent at RWA National is the immediate feedback on the current projects. One minus is the conversation in all its nonverbal communicative glory...the facial expressions that disabuse you of any hopeful notion you might have concocted from an email exchange or even a phone call. That, alas, was the result. Instead of WIP 1, we're shifting to WIP 2...the one that's stranded in the Gobi sans camel. Urk.

WIP 2, aka "the baseball book," died the death before the end of my second go-round with NaNoWriMo. Great premise, not enough steam. Rereading said WIP during the train ride home, I realized that it suffered from several flaws: the backstory dump. The excessive navel gazing (all women's fiction has a degree of navel gazing, but...). The trips to nowhere. The pointless scenes.

Thankfully, the idea engine is slowly cranking to life. The endless construction project next door to Daddy's house gave me an idea for my foil character. I was able to extend a surprise metaphor and make it work better. The characters are becoming rounder and less cardboard. Okay, so I have to rewrite the whole thing. It can't get sold if I don't, right?

Sadly, Wharton never finished The Buccaneers--she died when she was about 3/5 of the way through. Let's hope the same won't be true for me.

Ten Favorite Sounds

2009-07-28T16:02:00.000-04:00

The wind in tall North Carolina pines
Rain on a tin roof
Dixieland jazz
Bagpipes. Seriously. Best if you're actually in the Scottish Highlands.
"I'm home."
Night sounds: tree frogs, cicadas, owls
Aaron Copland's Appalachian Spring and Vince Guaraldi's "Linus and Lucy"
That groany-snuffly sound your dog makes when you scratch him just so under the ear
My children's laughter
My husband's giggle when he's really tickled about something

Reading Lists: Another 100 Greatest?

2009-07-27T17:03:00.000-04:00

Not to be outdone by their rivals at Time (see my post on their list here), the good folks at Newsweek have compiled what they call their "meta-list" of the Top 100 Books, using rankings from lists as diverse as the New York Public Library System, the Modern Library, and Oprah to determine their choices. This list was interesting because it included nonfiction, poetry, and drama in addition to novels. There are some quirks: all the Shakespeare selections are grouped together, they seem to love ancient history (Thucydides, Herodotus, Homer, etc.) but not Greek drama (Oedipus? The Orestia Trilogy? Hello??), and some children's books pop up as well. It's also startling for its omissions: No Dickens? I'm not a fan, but what's up with that?? Moby Dick didn't make the list (no big loss, IMHO), but what's puzzling is the two Toni Morrisons and an Alice Walker, but no Their Eyes Were Watching God--the novel that paved the way for them both. Plus, there are a couple of titles I've never even heard of, so clearly I'm not swimming in rarefied Ivy League circles. Whatever. Faulkner's the top-rated American writer, so I'm happy. Here's the list. I've boldfaced the titles I've read.

War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
1984 - George Orwell
Ulysses - James Joyce
Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov
The Sound and the Fury - William Faulkner
Invisible Man - Ralph Ellison
To the Lighthouse - Virginia Woolf
The Iliad and The Odyssey - Homer
Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Divine Comedy - Dante Alighieri
The Canterbury Tales - Geoffrey Chaucer (most of them)
Gulliver's Travels - Jonathan Swift
Middlemarch - George Eliot
Things Fall Apart - Chinua Achebe
The Catcher in the Rye - J. D. Salinger
Gone with the Wind - Margaret Mitchell
One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
The Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald
Catch-22 - Joseph Heller (I've tried, but I cannot finish this book)
Beloved - Toni Morrison
The Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck
Midnight's Children - Salman Rushdie
Brave New World - Aldous Huxley
Mrs. Dalloway - Virginia Woolf
Native Son - Richard Wright
Democracy in America - Alexis de Tocqueville
On the Origin of Species - Charles Darwin
The Histories - Herodotus
The Social Contract - Jean-Jacques Rousseau
Das Kapital - Karl Marx
The Prince - Niccolo Machiavelli
Confessions - St. Augustine
Leviathan - Thomas Hobbes
The History of the Peloponnesian War - Thucydides
The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Winnie-the-Pooh - A. A. Milne
The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe - C. S. Lewis
A Passage to India - E. M. Forster
On the Road - Jack Kerouac
To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee
The Holy Bible, Revised Standard Version (most of it)
A Clockwork Orange - Anthony Burgess
Light in August - William Faulkner
The Souls of Black Folk - W. E. B. Du Bois
Wide Sargasso Sea - Jean Rhys
Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert
Paradise Lost - John Milton (portions)
Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy
Hamlet - William Shakespeare
King Lear - William Shakespeare
Othello - William Shakespeare
Sonnets - William Shakespeare
Leaves of Grass - Walt Whitman
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn - Mark Twain
Kim - Rudyard Kipling
Frankenstein - Mary Shelley
Song of Solomon - Toni Morrison
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest - Ken Kesey
For Whom the Bell Tolls - Ernest Hemingway
Slaughterhouse-Five - Kurt Vonnegut
Animal Farm - George Orwell
Lord of the Flies - William Golding
In Cold Blood - Truman Capote
The Golden Notebook - Doris Lessing
Remembrance of Things Past - Marcel Proust
The Big Sleep - Raymond Chandler
As I Lay Dying - William Faulkner
The Sun Also Rises - Ernest Hemingway
I, Claudius - Robert Graves
The Heart is a Lonely Hunter - Carson McCullers
Sons and Lovers - D. H. Lawrence
All the King's Men - Robert Penn Warren
Go Tell It on the Mountain - James Baldwin
Charlotte's Web - E. B. White
Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad
Night - Elie Wiesel
Rabbit, Run - John Updike
The Age of Innocence - Edith Wharton
Portnoy's Complaint - Philip Roth
An American Tragedy - Theodore Dreiser
The Day of the Locust - Nathanael West
Tropic of Cancer - Henry Miller
The Maltese Falcon - Dashiell Hammett
His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman (Sort of. I read The Golden Compass, but didn't get excited enough to read the other two.)
Death Comes for the Archbishop - Willa Cather
The Interpretation of Dreams - Sigmund Freud
The Education of Henry Adams - Henry Adams
Quotations from Chairman Mao - Mao Zedong
The Varieties of Religious Experience: A Study in Human Nature - William James
Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh
Silent Spring - Rachel Carson
The General Theory of Employment, Interest, and Money - John Maynard Keynes
Lord Jim - Joseph Conrad
Goodbye to All That - Robert Graves
The Affluent Society - John Kenneth Galbraith
The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame
The Autobiography of Malcolm X - Alex Haley and Malcolm
Eminent Victorians - Lytton Strachey
The Color Purple - Alice Walker
The Second World War (The Gathering Storm; Their Finest Hour; The Grand Alliance; The Hinge of Fate) - Winston Churchill

Forty-five out of a hundred. Not bad for a list that includes so much nonfiction! It's weird, but it'll get people talking. About books, better yet. Check out the list and comments here.

Carolina in My Mind

2009-07-25T10:41:00.002-04:00

Ahh....mountain air. There's something refreshing about escaping the ridiculous humidity in Florida and enjoying cooler days and nights in the Blue Ridge. Driving up from Atlanta, you can totally understand the scriptural reference "I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help" (if I may go all King James for a moment). The Appalachians don't have the jaw-dropping vistas you see in the Rockies, but there's something about them...probably the fact that they're the oldest mountain range on earth.

At any rate, we'll enjoy a few days in NC before collecting up Frick (who's been on a trip with the middle school youth from church) and Frack (who's been in the mountains for a week, visiting the grands) and heading back home. It's a nice reset button for the summer, now that we're on the downhill slide toward the new school year. I just wish it were closer...that loooooooooooong drive through middle Georgia on I-75 is surely the Devil's handiwork.

RWA National Recap

2009-07-19T10:09:00.001-04:00

Whew! One more RWA National Conference in the rearview mirror. This was a networking year for me, so that meant fewer workshops to report on. Here are some highlights from some of the workshops I did attend:

Outwitting a Muse Who Just Won't Behave - If the girls in the basement (as Barbara Samuel O'Neal is likely to call them) or the squirrels (as I'm likely to call them) are misbehaving, try a vacation. Try an artist's date, listening to music, taking a vacation from writing, and reading in different genres from what you normally write. Eventually, your creative monkeys will be dying to get back to work.

The Serendipitous Spark - What thoughts bring you delicious feelings and joy? Listen to them. Read Malcolm Gladwell's Blink for an appreciation of instant recognition and how you can trust it. Self-care is vital to the creative process and enabling you to hear your inner voice.

You Say Tomato, I Say To-Motto - Determining the motto for your central characters can help you with other story elements like setting, behavior choices and actions, conflict, theme, and character growth. For example, what happens when Mr. Do the Right Thing meets Ms. Life's Short, Eat Dessert First? Distilling your character's motto will help you craft backstory and provide heft and believability to their decisions.

Beyond the Basics: Differences Between YA and Adult - If you're thinking of writing for adolescents, be sure you're asking the right questions. The main thing is to remember that teens are not adults, but don't underestimate them! They are very savvy readers and thinkers. If you think you want to write YA because "those kids today" need some straightenin', then the YA market is not for you (they won't buy what you're pushing). A surprising fact: the YA build for titles is slow, and the publishers expect that. The handout for this is excellent.

Our Favorite Flavors - This workshop compared similarities and differences between romantic suspense, historical, romantic comedy, and paranormal books. Unfortunately, it was cut short because we had to evacuate the building! Fortunately, they had a terrific handout that highlighted their major points.

Although I was pleased with the sessions I attended, the number I attended was down from previous years, partly because I was full-on networking, and partly because the workshop list didn't really blow my skirt up. Guess I need to put up or shut up...so I'll be submitting ideas of my own for next year's conference. Wish me luck!

Now That's What I Call Feminine Protection!

2009-07-16T15:02:00.000-04:00

Now I've seen it all. Normally, the host hotel for RWA National commandeers a men's bathroom to handle the high number of female attendees. I've always thought it was kinda cool to penetrate the inner sanctum in all its masculine glory. But not the Marriott Wardman Park. They were so kind as to arrange this:

It's not like we're going to run screaming from the loo at the sight of a couple of urinals, but this is really going above and beyond to preserve our feminine sensibilities.

mimi Does Monuments!

2009-07-10T22:53:00.002-04:00

I am one tired puppy, let me tell you. I wish I'd remembered the pedometer, because I have no idea how much we walked. I only know it was a lot. After a yummy breakfast at Afterwords Café near Dupont Circle, we hoofed it down Connecticut Avenue to Lafayette Square, then over to 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. I've been to DC before, but my memories of a lot of these places are from a tour bus. How great to walk up! I only wish we could have scored tour tix, but alas, the denizens of Chez mimi do not, in themselves, constitute a school group. We'll have to settle for a Capitol tour Monday instead.

After the White House, on the Museum of American History. We took our time (First Ladies are the coolest! Julia Child is my new hero! They need more artifacts in the pop culture section!), did some experiments in the science lab, played on the Chicago streetcar, and basically wore ourselves out. Then, because we know how to prolong a good time longer than sane people, we toured monuments. All the monuments.

No tickets for the Washington Monument, so we walked and goggled, then down the Reflecting Pool. The new WWII Memorial is gorgeous, the Vietnam Veterans Memorial as moving as I remember (I saw it the first year it opened), the Korean War Memorial lovely, but I wonder if there's a monument for WWI, and if so, where is it?

We spent some reflective time with Mr. Lincoln, then took a slow walk around the Tidal Basin while the sun went down. We got to see the new memorial to FDR. Let's just say that he seriously deserves his spot in the top five of all U.S. Presidents. And also that the bounds of American tackiness don't exist. I don't know what exactly to say about people who pose for pictures, grinning and clowning, in front of a line of bronze statues representing a Depression-era breadline. I'm not sure there is anything to say except go read The Grapes of Wrath and then come back and apologize. Epic American fail.

I confess, I had a total squee fangirl goosebump moment in the Jefferson Memorial. He's my all-time favorite president, and I have to say that reading the selected Jefferson quotations in the memorial and the info in the exhibit reinforced exactly why he is so awesome. Erudite and passionate, Jefferson loved life (including things that illumine life, like poetry, music, and literature) and liberty (personal liberty and the freedom to choose and learn your own path). Incredible.

Considering Lincoln, FDR, and Jefferson back to back to back really makes you wonder where today's statesmen happen to be, if there are any anymore. I'm not sure anyone walking the halls of Congress today would deserve a monument. Think they're wondering about their historical legacy in between cozying up to lobbyists and working so very, very hard to get re-elected? I doubt it. Maybe they need to spend a little time at the monuments themselves, just to remind them why they're here in the first place.

The Bed List/The Dinner List

2009-07-03T08:58:00.008-04:00

BED LIST: EDDIE CAHILL

We don't watch much TV at Chez mimi (not having cable will do that to you), but we're lined up and ready on Wednesday nights for CSI: NY. And let me just say it's no hardship whenever Det. Flack walks by, usually spouting some smart remark. The twinkly eyes and hard bod don't hurt, either. Yum.

DINNER LIST: SEN.-ELECT AL FRANKEN

Several years ago, I bought classroom subscriptions for The Nation and National Review to use so my students could identify political slant. Because of those, I receive lots of political mail--and one of those was a fundraising letter for Senate candidate Al Franken. The letter began, "Dear Person I'm Asking for Money." I laughed out loud. How many incumbents would be that straightforward? Now that Mr. Franken has been certified as Minnesota's Senator-elect after a loooooooooong process, it'll be interesting to see what happens when a very smart man with a very sharp sense of humor joins the stodgy house. I'd love a sneak preview of that!!

#writerfail Redux

2009-07-02T09:57:00.007-04:00

For all I adore technology, I'm not a first adopter. It took a couple of years before I finally bought a cell phone, and I was practically the last person I knew to start texting. Although I belong to several email loops, I was a Facebook holdout until recently. I'm still on the fence about Twitter. After reading Jennifer Weiner's post about Alice Hoffman and how not to use Twitter at Huffington Post today, looks like I won't purchase my tickets to the Twitterverse anytime soon.

The short version: well-known novelist Alice Hoffman (Practical Magic, Here on Earth, and many more titles) erm, disagreed with her hometown paper's review of her latest novel, The Story Sisters. Maybe disagreed isn't the word, for her response went way beyond mere disagreement. After unloading on the critic and the paper in a series of tweets, she finally tweeted the critic's name and phone number and encouraged her readers to call up Mean Ms. Critic and complain. Vociferously. Then she nuked her Twitter account and sulked off for some pasta with a chocolate chaser. (I guess. Okay, I'm projecting here. That's what I do when the mean girl hurts my feelings.)

The lesson to be learned from all this, writer friends, is that you don't have to be unpublished to suffer from a classic #writerfail. Unlike the yet-to-be-published crowd I carped about in my earlier #writerfail post, Ms. Hoffman has "made it." She's a bestselling, multi-published author. A couple of her books have been made into movies. She's allegedly reaping the glorious benefits of publication, yet her Twittersnit proves that on the inside, she's no different from the rest of us when it comes to her work. She's defensive, cranky, and willing to lash out to protect the baby.

And that's the problem, isn't it? I marvel sometimes that I, and fellow writers, get so bent out of shape when faced with conclusive proof of our lack of universal acclaim (rejection, bad review, hack-and-slash critique session, etc.). As readers, we're quick to reject and belittle writers and genres we just don't care for, so why should we, as writers, take everything so freakin' personally when faced with the fact that some reader out there just doesn't like us? We can't all be the popular girl at the dance. Right now, all the cute boys (NY publishers) are dancing with the hot goth chicks (the paranormal/urban fantasy writers) and the edgy techno boys (e-publishers) are making out with the erotica gals while we romantic comedies/chick lits/Western historicals sigh at the ceiling at the edges of the publishing gym. Our lack of dance partners doesn't make us any less wonderful, just not the flavor of the month. And seriously, people who get all cranky about getting their coffee just so don't have any business acting like spoiled brats when someone else expresses a preference.

Perhaps that kind of reaction is self-inflicted. We writers go on about how our current WIP is our "baby" and then react like tigresses when we realize someone thinks it looks like a lizard. Someone will. That's the nature of the beast. The big question is, are you writer enough to write for yourself? If so, a bad review won't be the end of the world, or the beginning of an online snit that will last into time and all eternity. If you're writer enough, you're already worrying about the next project.

So what have we learned today? Write what you know. Write what you love. Learn the Southern belle's secret weapon: the indulgent smile. Practice saying, "Bless your heart" instead of "F you." And for goodness' sake, eat the pasta and chocolate before you tweet.

Sinfully Tagged

2009-07-01T21:33:00.003-04:00

"Sometimes you can learn more about a person by what they don’t tell you. Sometimes you can learn a lot from the things they just make up. If you are tagged with this Meme, lie to me. Then tag 7 other folks (one for each deadly sin) and hope they can lie."

Pride: What is your biggest contribution to the world?

I'm breathing, aren't I?

Envy: What do your coworkers wish they had which is yours?

My shoe collection.

Gluttony: What did you eat last night?

Coq au vin. In Paris.

Lust: What really lights your fire?

Depends on the day of the week. The men just come and go. You know, "If it's Tuesday, it must be Gerard Butler."

Anger: What is the last thing that really pissed you off?

The overwhelming intelligence of the American electorate. I mean, how dare they be so thoughtful?

Greed: Name something you keep from others.

My solution to world conflict. I'm holding out for the best offer since I am, after all, me (see PRIDE).

Sloth: What's the laziest thing you've ever done?

Convinced all the neighborhood kids to paint my house, inside and out, while I drank lemonade on the porch Tom Sawyer style.

Ten This Tuesday

2009-06-30T06:34:00.002-04:00

Ten years ago today, at precisely 6:13 am, Miss Frack arrived in the world. That means today, at precisely 6:13 am, I became the mother of two children who are now in the double digits.

She's gorgeous, and I'm not just being a proud mama. She's really objectively gorgeous--willowy, long legs, shining hair, bright smile. I wonder how many of us were gorgeous when we were ten and somehow forgot (or never believed), those of us who have been the walking wounded on the inside for years and years because we just weren't...enough. Or thought we weren't.

Women are funny creatures. We can run the world and still doubt ourselves. I know so many capable, strong, amazing women who are just as insecure about their abilities and certainly their looks (adolescence can be an evil thing) as the least strong, least capable person on earth. We raise families and think we can't manage ourselves. We raise daughters and have understanding to our mothers. We pick up our children, dust off their scrapes and kiss their boo-boos so they can recover and play while ignoring our own wounds. Let's face it. We have issues.

My wish for my daughter today is that she doesn't have those days (or as many of them) as I seem to have had. Let her long-legged, bright-smiling self be the one she counts on as she turns eleven and eighteen and forty-'leven. For today, let me love my little girl for exactly who she is, and in the process, love the little girl inside me, too.

Reading Lists: 100 Greatest?

2009-06-27T08:40:00.003-04:00

Every once in a while, something pops up that just demands to be blogged. I ran across this listing of Time magazine's 100 best English-language novels published since 1923. Lists like this are always up for debate, but I thought it would be interesting to see how I fared. Of their 100 choices, I've read these:

All the King's Men - Robert Penn Warren
Animal Farm - George Orwell
Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret - Judy Blume
Beloved - Toni Morrison
The Catcher in the Rye - J.D. Salinger
A Clockwork Orange - Anthony Burgess
Deliverance - James Dickey
Gone With the Wind - Margaret Mitchell
The Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck
The Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald
The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter - Carson McCullers
Invisible Man - Ralph Ellison
Light in August - William Faulkner
The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe - C.S. Lewis
Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov
Lord of the Flies - William Golding
The Lord of the Rings - J.R.R. Tolkien
Native Son - Richard Wright
1984 - George Orwell
Ragtime - E.L. Doctorow
Slaughterhouse-Five - Kurt Vonnegut
The Sound and the Fury - William Faulkner
The Spy Who Came in From the Cold - John le Carre
The Sun Also Rises - Ernest Hemingway
Their Eyes Were Watching God - Zora Neale Hurston
Things Fall Apart - Chinua Achebe
To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee
Watchmen - Alan Moore & Dave Gibbons

I don't know what it says about me that I've read Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret but no Virginia Woolf. I get some cool points for Watchmen, but I should probably be ashamed that I've never read William Burroughs. Or Styron, Pynchon, or Roth, for that matter. In my defense, I started Catch-22 and The French Lieutenant's Woman but just couldn't make myself finish them. I've also read titles by Cormac McCarthy, Margaret Atwood, Thornton Wilder, Graham Greene, Robert Stone, James Baldwin, and Zadie Smith, just not the ones selected for this list. I have to say it does my heart good to see two of Faulkner's novels on the list, but only one Hemingway (his short stories are better). Twenty-eight titles out of 100 is an okay showing (technically thirty, since The Lord of the Rings is one work in three volumes), but I guess I have some grownup reading to do once I finish all those Newbery books!

Check out the list for yourself here. How many titles have you read?

The Bed List/The Dinner List

2009-06-26T19:45:00.003-04:00

BED LIST: SHEMAR MOORE

Shemar Moore first caught my attention as the intense profiler with the sentimental streak in Criminal Minds, but he's been swoon-worthy for a while. Check out his strong turn in the Tyler Perry film Diary of a Mad Black Woman. Girlfriend was crazy to hold out so long! Dayum!

DINNER LIST: TYLER PERRY

Speaking of Tyler Perry...this man is a brilliant businessman and an absolutely fearless comic. His multiple successes with the Madea franchise show his intimate knowledge of his Atlanta hometown and his target market. That, and he's not afraid to dress in drag and go for the laugh. Tyler Perry is a mogul, folks.

Threes

2009-06-25T22:52:00.003-04:00

I guess today I can officially close the book on my youth. First Ed McMahon (how many years have I heard that voice?), then Farrah Fawcett (all the girls wanted her hair, all the boys just wanted her), then Michael Jackson ("'cause this is THRILLER...thriller night!"). Michael Jackson's taking the most effort to process, though. He's not that much older than me! Of course, we all watched him grow up, from being the high sweet voice of the Jackson Five, to the disco phenomenon of Off the Wall, to the self-styled King of Pop. Is there anyone my age who didn't adore the "Thriller" scene in 13 Going on 30 because we'd all practiced that routine over and over and over?

Strange how passages make us think more about our realities. Tonight, though, let's celebrate the talent of three people who made us laugh, dance, and dream.

IB Pissed

2009-06-20T18:10:00.000-04:00

I don't know about you, but sometimes professional conferences are a pain in my considerable behind. Today's is no exception. I'm at a gorgeous beach resort--no complaints there--with nice food and a room that's about a hundred feet from the Gulf of Mexico. Fine. Dandy.

What's not fine, or even approaching dandy, is the veritable avalanche of paper I got this morning, all badly organized and comb-bound, which makes it impossible to reorganize. Top that all off with a room full of people from rank beginners (moi) to twenty-year-plus veterans, and you have a recipe for a very confused room. Especially in my seat.

The situation: I'll be teaching the first year of an IB course this fall. I come to get teaching strategies and make sure I'm on the right path to help my students do well. Within the first half hour, I'm unsure I'm in the right place, thanks to the aforementioned mix in the room, and then I discover that the syllabus I submitted, which I thought had been vetted and approved, was wrong. As in "violates the rules and would disqualify my students' scores" wrong. How the hell did it pass muster, then??

Let's just say I'm never--never--the dumbest girl in the room. This morning, though, I sure felt like it. And I was. Not. Happy. At. All. Pitch a fit not happy and embarrass myself in front of everyone, which made me even less happy. This is the kind of thing that gives teachers chronic headaches. Good thing I have the beach to stare at.

The Bed List/The Dinner List

2009-06-19T22:59:00.003-04:00

BED LIST: SIMON BAKER

Simon Baker's Australian, though you'd never know it from his best-known role, Patrick Jane in The Mentalist. Those eyes! That grin! Those dimples! Don't know about you, but he's welcome to observe me up close anytime.

DINNER LIST: ARNE DUNCAN

Behold our new Secretary of Education. I'm sure you can guess why I'd want to have dinner with him. Somebody with some sense needs to talk with the Washington policy wonks!! He's kinda cute, too, so it wouldn't be a hardship.

Off to the Races

2009-06-18T16:22:00.000-04:00

The reworked idea for The Five Step Plan and the proposal for Life After Little League are now on their way to Dream Agent. Let's hope she's happier with the rework--if she is, I can salvage some main story elements. If not, we're talking total rebuild (which I'm not wanting to do, but...). Now I'm back to the YA ideas. Who knew designing an entire fictional high school would be so complicated! That "write what you know" advice sure can throw a wrench in the works when you're not looking.

If It's Not One Thing, It's Another

2009-06-17T17:59:00.001-04:00

Adding to the insult of no money coming in all summer (two teacher household, remember?), today I hear this weird griiiiinnnddd-CLUNK sound from one of my back windows. Yep, now it's stuck down. All the way down. And this is Florida, where we have a thunderstorm every day at 4:00 p.m.

Great. Lacking the several hundred bucks it will take to fix the window (stupid VW window regulators are pieces of plastic trash that are cheap but take like three hours to fix because you have to disassemble the back seat to get to them), and since it's thundering, now I have to spend two hours cleaning out the garage (it's been mid-project for a while now) so I can get my car in. OMG the leaves. OMG the nuts and bolts and screws. OMG the papers that go from school to car to garage and possibly the house. This would be so much more fun if there were a ceiling fan. Scratch that. It wouldn't be fun.

Let me just say, the shower afterward was water straight from Mount Olympus.

The Bed List/The Dinner List

2009-06-12T13:35:00.009-04:00

BED LIST: JAMES McAVOY

Who'da thunk the limpid-eyed Mr. Tumnus from The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe, furry goat butt and all, would have ended up becoming a prime-grade Scottish leading man? Not me, but then I saw Penelope. And Atonement. And Becoming Jane. James McAvoy is a seriously cute bundle of simmering Glaswegian rawr.

DINNER LIST: ALAN GRAYSON

The new U.S. Representative from the 8th District of Florida is a kook, but maybe in a good way. He campaigned on a platform of transparency in government spending, which is way more nutritious than what his predecessor, the former Rep. Ric Keller gave us during his years in Congress (Cheeseburger Bill, anyone?). Rep. Grayson's a sideshow, but he's an entertaining sideshow.

Newbery Update: 1930s

2009-06-11T15:40:00.003-04:00

Finally finished reading the second decade's worth of Newbery titles. Note to self: ambitious reading projects are probably not best to embark upon during a become-an-IB-school year. Alas. However, I blazed through the last few quickly now that summer is upon us, so I'm hoping the next few months will be far more productive, reading-wise.

On to the titles:

Hitty, Her First Hundred Years by Rachel Field - Hitty is a doll, carved from "mountain ash wood" for the daughter of a Maine sea captain. When we meet her, she is on display in a New York antiques store. How she gets there and the adventures she has along the way are charmingly told in her own voice. Adorable, I have to say.

The Cat Who Went to Heaven by Elizabeth Coatsworth - The shortest read of all the books so far, this is a quick introduction to Japanese culture and Buddhism, revealed as an artist paints a commission for the local Buddhist temple.

Waterless Mountain by Laura Adams Armer - Beautifully illustrated by the author, this book is slower-paced than others I've read, but the growing character of a young Navajo, Younger Brother, into a medicine man is fascinating stuff.

Young Fu of the Upper Yangtze by Elizabeth Lewis - Again with the "teach kids about other cultures," I thought, but it's an engaging story of a boy who struggles to become an artisan so he can pull himself and his widowed mother out of poverty. Not nearly as depressing as it sounds.

Invincible Louisa by Cornelia Meigs - The first biography to win a Newbery, this one is all about Louisa May Alcott. Those Alcotts knew everybody--look for cameos from Emerson, Thoreau, and a bunch of other 19th century thinkers. Good, but I'd probably get more out of it if I were a big Little Women fan. Which I'm not.

Dobry by Monica Shannon - This is the third novel in a row about a child who's growing up into something his parents don't really understand. Younger Brother and Young Fu, meet Dobry, a young Bulgarian farmer wants to become an artist. For a book about a brilliant young artist, the illustrations are oddly simplistic--and not in a good way.

Caddie Woodlawn by Carol Ryrie Brink - Plucky, headstrong young girl and her adventures on her family's Wisconsin farm. What is it with Wisconsin farms? Was 1800s Wisconsin considered very edge of civilization by writers in the 1930s? The mind boggles. At any rate, Caddie's a hoot and a scamp. But she's no Laura Ingalls.

Roller Skates by Ruth Sawyer - Kind of like Eloise at the Plaza, except Lucinda gets to toodle around 1890s New York City on her roller skates, since her parents are on an extended trip. Interesting and amusing, if not totally realistic. What Victorian child would be given this kind of freedom, especially with an overbearing aunt at the ready? That's probably the appeal, though.

The White Stag by Kate Seredy - This is a mythic retelling of how the Magyar peoples settled in their homeland (modern day Hungary). And you know what that means. Tonight's hero: Attila the Hun!! What's amazing is how Seredy pulls it off. Not that we'll all suddenly form Attila fan clubs (he's pretty barbaric and bloodthirsty here), but she crafts the myth in a way that helps you at least understand where all that thirst and barbarism came from.

Thimble Summer by Elizabeth Enright - This is the other book about a plucky young farm girl from Wisconsin and all her shenanigans. (Can you believe Laura Ingalls Wilder never won a Newbery?? Shame!) This heroine, Garnet Linden, has an idyllic summer bookended by the discovery of a silver thimble in a dry river bed and a blue ribbon at the fair. Cute, but Garnet's no Laura. Or Caddie, even.

And my favorite is...

The White Stag!

Looks like the historical fiction bug bit me again. This book was a beautiful blend of fantastic pencil illustrations and gorgeous, lyrical writing. It's epic, it's poetic, it's magical. As Seredy says in her forward, "Those who want to hear the voice of pagan gods in wind and thunder, who want to see the fairies dance in the moonlight, who can believe that faith can move mountains, can follow the thread on the pages of this book. It is a fragile thread; it cannot bear the weight of facts and dates." And she makes Attila the Hun semi-heroic. Now that's writing.

The Boys of Summer

2009-06-10T16:31:00.000-04:00

It's a been a while, but I figure it's time for a reboot. For your summer viewing pleasure, it's the return of The Bed List/The Dinner List. (Pause for squealing fangirl noises) Each Friday, I'll choose one man for his manly charms (The Bed List), and another for his winning ways (The Dinner List). Check out the archives for previous choices and send me your suggestions for men I've overlooked. The first boys of summer debut this Friday!

Ten Favorite Things to Do During "Me" Time

2009-06-09T10:03:00.002-04:00

Browse a bookstore.
Read.
Infosnack.
Write.
Stay in my pajamas all day.
Watch girly movies and cry.
Listen to college music and reminisce.
Daydream.
Talk to friends I haven't seen in a while.
Fix something yummy that's on the naughty side.

My Spicy Sweet Chili Self

2009-06-04T17:05:00.001-04:00

Dream Agent, bless her heart. After a few rounds of email tag (how did I manage this before BlackBerry?), we finally manage a business call. And it's a doozy.

She looooooooooves the high concept hook of my proposal she has in house. The execution, not so much. As in, not crazy about the inciting incident, not completely wowed by some other story elements, not really feeling the narrative/dialogue balance. Just not. But looooooooooooooves the high concept hook. What can I come up with to re-vamp the story and make it fly?

You ask so little. But I am a professional (even though I must get this obligatory whining off my chest), so I will dive in and try something different. I already have a couple of possibilities, courtesy of Kel and middle sis, and I'll probably pick up a couple more before I actually start writing. That, I'll manage. Why? Because I'm Spicy Sweet Chili Doritos.

Let me 'splain, Roocy. After breaking the bad (but not unrecoverable) news, Dream Agent and I launch into a conversation about authors and markets and so on, and we agree on a mutual sense of "meh" for the currently white-hot paranormal/urban fantasy/sex with things that sprout fangs or claws and also that one wildly popular author of much more regular women's fiction doesn't do it for either one of us. I can read and enjoy her, but she's just not my cup of tea. Not an auto-buy. I'm trying to figure out why, exactly, when I glom onto a metaphor and say, "It's like she's Lay's Potato Chips, and I'm Spicy Sweet Chili Doritos." DA busts out laughing and says "Exactly!! You are Spicy Doritos!!" We agreed, Lay's are awesome, and I said I had no problem eating Lay's if there were no other choices, but if it came down to Lay's and the Doritos, I'm all over the Doritos.

And that's a good thing, DA reassures me. Better to be me than another chip, even if that chip is wildly popular and a fixture on BookScan. Too bad the book she has isn't showing off enough of my spicy, my sweet, or my chili self. Guess I got some work to go. Good thing school's out--I have a deadline in two weeks for a proposed revamp, another proposal sent, and a general outline and character sketch for the YA series. Nothing like relaxing all summer, huh?

Oh, and Doritos are buy one, get one free at Publix this week, starting today. Omen? I think so. I'm stocking up on purple bags.

Last Day!!

2009-06-03T06:13:00.003-04:00

Today is the last day of school...and am I ready!! One more exam to give, then it's grade grade grade, then clean clean clean, then pack pack pack stuff to work on over the summer because, contrary to popular belief, teachers do not get three months off. Let me repeat that:

TEACHERS DO NOT GET THREE MONTHS OFF.

The "three months off" canard is one commonly tossed at folks like moi, who happily toil amongst other people's children in the public schools, from people who like to snipe at the "failing" public school system. Public school teachers, apparently, are just slightly higher on the evolutionary scale from "welfare queens" and those who enrich themselves on the government's dime without doing any work. Amazing how corporate crooks like Blackwater and Halliburton are never mentioned in these conversations, although they've siphoned off billions more tax dollars than my puny salary ever will, even after I've put in 30+ years and start collecting retirement.

Just so you know, here's what my summer is shaping up like. The last day of post-planning is this Friday. We're back in school for pre-planning the third week of August. That's ten weeks, not three months. In that ten weeks, I if I am professional and want to have a great 2009-2010 school year (I am, and I do), I must complete the following:

Four day IB training seminar in St. Pete in June, travel expenses to be borne by moi and then reimbursed at the standard rate (which means part of it's coming out of my pocket)
Five day AP training seminar in St. Pete in late July, all travel expenses to be borne by moi and then reimbursed at the standard rate (which means part of it's coming out of my pocket)
Redesigning my current AP course so it includes IB standards so my students will be prepared for both, since our school's program isn't large enough to support separate courses
Re-reading all of the books I assigned for summer reading (that's for AP, IB, and honors English, about 15 books total) so that I can discuss them intelligently and answer questions on the Google Group I set up for my students so they walk in on Day 1 ready to work
Four or five days of curricular planning for various groups at school so the teachers walk in on Day 1 ready to do amazing things in the classroom
Resting. I'm exhausted. Like most teachers, I "leave it all on the court" by the end of the year. Trust me, you're getting a full year's worth of work in the 38 weeks I'm actively at school. The stuff I do in the summer is bonus.

Of course, none of this work is compensated. It's my time and my dime. And that's not counting what I have to do to accommodate DH's summer schedule for his teacher training, which doesn't happen at any of the same times as mine. That would be, as they say at my favorite high school, "too much like right."

Did I mention that teachers don't get paid over the summer? Right. That's another misconception. We're paid when we're in school. No kids in the seats, no money in the wallet. That's why you see so many of us delivering pizzas and wandering the aisles of Home Depot in orange aprons all summer.

For now, though, I'll be glad for the break. I've had a headache for four days now (a common exam week malady). Then I'll be back at it, because all those kids who aren't mine deserve the best I can give them. And frankly, the best I can give them is pretty damn awesome.

Graduation After Retirement

2009-05-29T17:54:00.002-04:00

Congrats to the Class of 2009! Just sat through graduation at my favorite high school, my first after handing my senior class sponsor sash and tiara over to another teacher. Two things today's experience taught me:

Life does go on without me.
I am waaaaaaaay critical.

Nothing skidded to a halt without me. Everyone got in the O-rena and found a seat. Programs were printed. Speeches were made (good ones, too--funny and touching). Names were called. Tassels were moved from right to left and mortarboards tossed. But...and this is a big but...from my spectator's seat, I nitpicked. Since I've done the job before, I had the two column thing going in my head: How I'd Do It vs. How It Got Done. And since I am my father's daughter, I found plenty of things in the HIGD column that were most definitely not HIDI, which made them BAD and WRONG. Isn't that always how it is with us semi-control freaks? Our way is THE way?

But all that's not important. What's important is the smiling faces of all those newly-minted graduates, ready to take on the world. (We won't tell them about mortgage payments and other related adult fun just quite yet. We'll let them think being "grown" is all fun and games. For now.)

Ten Celebrities You're Tired Of

2009-05-26T06:07:00.000-04:00

Sarah Palin
Jennifer Aniston
The Octo-Mom
Jon & Kate
Paris Hilton
Tom & Katie
Mischa Barton
L'il Wayne
Beyoncé
Anyone from one of those vapid shows I don't watch but practically know everything about because they're freakin' EVERYWHERE, like Gossip Girl or The Hills or that Kardashians nonsense.

Who is Kate, and Why Should We Care?

2009-05-25T22:34:00.005-04:00

Apparently, tonight is the season premiere for Jon and Kate Plus 8, yet another reality series I've managed to avoid. If you've been under a rock lately, you haven't seen Jon and Kate Gosselin's mugs (and her ridiculous attacked-by-a-string-trimmer-from-behind hairdo) splashed across every possible tabloid/celebrity mag at the checkout. From what I gather, they were a semi-normal family until the fertility drugs took with a vengeance and they had sextuplets. Then the camera crew arrived, and all hell is continuing to break loose.

I don't know about you, but I'm baffled by this type of reality show. I have enough to deal with raising my own two children. I don't need to watch a dysfunctional Midwestern family try to raise their brood of eight, or a dysfunctional California family try to manage their rich and clueless offspring (Keeping Up With the Kardashians), or graspy overprivileged women who don't have real jobs and yet complain about how tough their lives are (Real Housewives of Orange County/Atlanta/New York/New Jersey), or Q-list celebrities who can't seem to tell their heads from a hole in the ground (Hogans, Gottis, etc.). What exactly are we supposed to be learning here? I have money, therefore, I'm a gold-plated asshat?

Seriously, when did the intellectual common denominator in this country fall so low? Why are intelligent, thoughtful dramas like The Unit and Eleventh Hour canceled while shows featuring vapid women who live for nothing more than their next tanning appointment or plastic surgery seem to continue indefinitely? And spark followings, no less, of regular women who know every petty detail of these people's lives? Is making a connection in our own real communities so unworthy of our time and energy that we send our kids out of the room so we can watch the latest money-fueled trainwreck play out in all its ghastly glory?

Find something constructive to do with your time. Step one is turn the dial. Better yet, turn the thing off. Got a few minutes? Page through Chris Van Allsburg's marvelous children's book The Wretched Stone. Think about what happens to those poor sailors. Then turn off the tube and read a book. I'm sure Jon, Kate, the Kardashians, and those damned housewives will get along without you just fine.

I Love Geeky Scotsmen!!

2009-05-21T05:48:00.003-04:00

And this is one reason why. Check out Craig Ferguson, bustin' the moves:

Life Imitating Art?

2009-05-15T18:02:00.003-04:00

Okay, this is freaky. The other day, I was cleaning out my storage room at school, and one of the charms on my bracelet (the bagpipe) got caught in the large spiral binding of a book. Pull, pop, the bagpipe goes flying, and my bracelet ends up in two pieces. After some choice vocabulary words that will not be on my students' next test, I scooped it all into an envelope and took it to my jeweler for repair. Fine. Dandy.

Today, I pick up the bracelet, and it has issues. One part's been soldered on in reverse, so now the typewriter is on the end instead of the Cosmo glass. That can be fixed. But then I notice--horrors!--that MY COURT JESTER HAT IS GONE!!!!

It's only a charm, of course, and I can get another one for $15.95 plus tax, plus shipping, but that's not the point. The totally random thing is that Robin, the heroine of The Five Step Plan, realizes that her life is going to hell because she's lost her court jester charm. You know how you include little details of your life in your books? Well, Robin wears my charm bracelet. Her jester disappears, her man cheats on her with her boss. I lose mine...

No worries there. Sparky is the coolest of husbands. Still, it's creepy! Ever realize that you're living your own fiction?

Block, or What?

2009-05-13T18:55:00.001-04:00

More cleaning of the cabinets today, since les élèves are taking an exam, and of course I get sidetracked by a book. Miracle's Boys, by Jacqueline Woodson. One thing leads to another, I end up at her website, and I find this:

I don’t believe there is any such thing as Writer’s Block. I think it’s just your mind telling you that the thing you’re writing isn’t the thing you really want to be writing. If this happens to me, I start writing something else.

Okay, she has a point. I just wish it weren't quite so, erm, pointy. I'm a big one for avoiding work. Doodling, planning, scheming, but not actually writing. Does that qualify as a block? The difference between me and Jacqueline Woodson (who really is a fine writer for young people--do check her out ASAP) is that she's productive. I'm not. I make a fine case for wanting to be a writer. Actually doing the writing? Not so much.

It's interesting, since I was all kinds of productive during NaNoWriMo. Getting up at 4:00 and slapping on the headphones was a great way to get a story out. Once it's down, though, I lose steam. That, or get sidetracked by another idea. Since new ideas are always far more interesting than the work required by revision, I get sidetracked. Easily. Woodson might claim that the new idea is what I should be writing (that thought sure is seductive!), while the "write every day no matter what" crowd would say I'm a dilettante. I think I'm both, but I've never been a clear judge of my own character.

What say you, writer types? Do you stick with a book until the bitter, multi-revised end, or do you flirt with the new guy when he sashays through your cortex?

10 Awesome Bands

2009-05-05T20:26:00.001-04:00

Foo Fighters
Red Hot Chili Peppers
R.E.M.
U2
The Police
Barenaked Ladies
Rush
Jimmy Buffett and the Coral Reefer Band
Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers
The Rolling Stones

Success Looks Like...

2009-05-03T18:39:00.001-04:00

...this fabulous young woman, who is now a proud graduate of the University of Florida. Prior to joining the Gator Nation, I taught her in my AP English class. She started hyphenating her last name with mine at the tops of her papers and calling me "Mom," so of course, "Mom" was in the O'Connell Center this morning taking pictures and beaming alongside her actual for-real mom. They don't tell you that these moments are the bonus pay you'll get when you become a teacher. They are so worth it.

Congratulations, C!! I can't believe you're (I'm??) this old!!

Do Clichés Matter?

2009-04-30T17:55:00.000-04:00

Stumbled across an interesting article online at the Entertainment Weekly site. With a title like "24 Rom-Com Clichés We'd Retire," how could I not explore? Although they presented good reasons for their choices, I can't say I completely agree with them. They also definitely missed some of the things that drive me nuts. Here's a rundown of their nitpicks:

Media Mavens (13 Going on 20) - Heroines with glamorous jobs in publishing? I thought that went out with the pink-cover chick lit tide. I adore chick lit, but how many jobs in magazine or book publishing are there? As many as the number of Dukes currently in Regency-set romance? How 'bout we look at some other careers, maybe?

The Last–Minute Sprint (Love, Actually) - I can't lie; I'm a sucker for the big dramatic finale. I don't have much quibble with this one.

Do You Believe in Magic? (Simply Irresistible) - Not a problem if it's understood from the get-go that this is a fantasy we're talking about (okay, more of a fantasy than your typical rom-com), but they don't always work. Amélie, absolutely. Like Water for Chocolate, not so much.

Mischievous Dogs (The Truth About Cats and Dogs) - I have less of a problem with this than the lonely-girl-with-a-cat scenario. Then again, most women I know with dogs know how to control them.

Working Girl...Needs Balance (New in Town) - Career girl with only a career to keep her warm? I remember those days. As long as she's not portrayed as a fool when she's not on the job, this one's not a biggie either.

Mr. and Mrs. Right in Front of You (Win a Date With Tad Hamilton) - This one's a little tired. At what point should you clue in? And if it takes you that long to get a clue, is the sucker who's been waiting all that time for you really the kind of wimpy doormat you want? Excepting Peter Parker, of course.

Love at First Fight (10 Things I Hate About You) - This tradition goes back to the classics, 10 Things' homage to The Taming of the Shrew, Much Ado About Nothing, His Girl Friday, Adam's Rib, etc. Done well, it works. What's that they say about the thin line between love and hate?

Clumsy Heroines (Bridget Jones's Diary) - This can get annoying. A trip here and there is okay, but don't paint her as just this side of incompetent and expect us to identify with her.

Blooming Wallflowers (The Mirror Has Two Faces) - Blooming, okay. Suddenly becoming the town hottie because you've taken off your glasses and brushed your hair? Yeah, right. That version needs to die the death, and quickly.

The Lonely Montage (Notting Hill) - Can be effective, but only if you're careful.

Bad Influence Buddies (Knocked Up) - Okay for Judd Apatow, since he's writing for guys anyway, but I don't see much of this in the female-focused rom-coms. She'd walk if he only surrounded himself with boobs.

Ridiculous Proofs of Love (Sleepless in Seattle) - I love Sleepless, but meeting at the top of the Empire State Building when you don't live in NY? This one, I'll give them.

Easy Sex (Forgetting Sarah Marshall) - Stupid sex isn't romantic, sorry.

Schlubby Guy, Pretty Girl (Hitch) - Can the girl ever stay nerdy and get the hottie?

Bad Drivers (Annie Hall) - Any character trait that makes a heroine seem vacuous or incompetent is a no in my book.

Fake IDs (Maid in Manhattan) - Again, if he's willing to fall for you because you're wearing a great outfit and doesn't find out you're lying through your teeth about who you truly are, neither of you deserves a happy ending.

PDA (Never Been Kissed) - File this one under big dramatic finale. If it fits the story, great. If it's obviously tacked on to be a big dramatic finale moment, then it should go.

Top of the Stairs Moment (She's All That) - Love sneaks up on you, it doesn't announce itself at the ball. Pretty in Pink, I'm talkin' to you.

Eating for Two, or Three (Two Weeks Notice) - If they're going to have healthy appetites, have them be healthy sizes. Gals who wear a 12 or 14 can have hot sex and fall in love, too.

Egregious Girl Bonding (Practical Magic) - Sex and the City aside, not every group of girls meets on Thursdays to get plastered and end up vomiting on someone's--usuall Mr. Right's--shoes.

Wet Climax (Four Weddings and a Funeral) - It's not what you think. They mean rainstorm. Big dramatic finale stuff. Must fit logically with rest of story, or it's gotta go.

I've Nothing to Wear (27 Dresses) - Gratuitous costume changes? No. The scene in 27 Dresses gets a pass because it was integral to the plot. Usually the multiple costuming happens with a girlfriend who's helping you pick out the perfect first date outfit.

Singing Into Objects (P.S. I Love You) - This is just stupid. Nobody sings into an object unless they're drunk or in college. Usually drunk and in college. Make them stop.

Quirky BFF (Working Girl) - Apply what I think of as the Accidental Tourist rule. A couple of quirks are human nature. Piling them on to the point of ridiculousness (no sense of direction/won't leave the house/alphabetizing the canned goods/playing a card game no one outside the family knows the rules to meets strange clothes/strange career/weird kid with allergies) is, well, ridiculous.

Personally, I've had it up to here with cluelessness. If nearly every decision you make buys you a one-way ticket to Dumbasstown, then you're no heroine I'm going to enjoy. That, or you're Julia Roberts. She wore out her rom-com heroine card with me years ago, mostly because of the two expression acting: the flinch and nostril flare (anger and surprise) or the laugh. You know the laugh. Her pinnacle was Notting Hill, and that's the last one I need to watch, thanks.

Anything we missed?

10 Words People Would Use to Describe You

2009-04-28T06:06:00.000-04:00

Energetic
Creative
Focused
Happy
Goofy
Smart
Talented
Dedicated
Contrary
Polite

They Built Excitement

2009-04-27T05:39:00.001-04:00

I'd been expecting this news all weekend, but it was still sad to read that the Pontiac division of GM will be closing as part of its restructuring. This is a little like when they shaved off Oldsmobile a couple of years ago, but closer to the bone: my first car I ever bought for myself was a Pontiac. A midnight blue 1986 Pontiac Sunbird SE 2-door coupe, to be exact. Man, was I proud of that car! The fact that it was a ginormous trade up from the first car I drove--a 1976 Chevy Caprice Classic Estate station wagon, you know, the kind with a roof rack and woody on the sides that I inherited when mom got herself a newer model--had something to do with it.

Lucky me, my grandfather was a salesman for Lipton who had a close relationship with a Buick/Pontiac/GMC dealer, so I didn't just get a first car. My first car was ordered. I got to pick out exactly what I wanted: stick shift, removable glass sunroof, vinyl seats because those damned velour ones shocked the hell out of me every time I got out of my friend Mary's Buick Regal, alloy wheels, and fat tires. Big Bill was rabid about having fat tires because of all the time he spent on the road. I noticed a huge difference between the chunky P195/65R 15s on my Pontiac and the pencil tires on most Corollas and Civics. Even today, I worry a little about skinny tires. Inga's are appropriately fat and steady, which is good, because the lead foot I developed in my zippy little Sunbird hasn't gone anywhere.

A lead foot's not the only thing I learned from my Sunbird. Tight suspension, a sense of fun, a cool dashboard (someone said once it looked like an airplane cockpit at night, with the orange backlighting), and enough power to get out of its own way. Ever since then, I've demanded that the car I drive, even if its primary task is to haul kids around, is fun to drive. Boring need not apply, which explains while I'll drive a wagon any day over a minivan. Just no zip when you step on the gas!

Alas, Pontiac's days are numbered, and in a few years we'll all have to explain just exactly why a GTO or a Firebird or even a smooth-riding Bonneville was, for a while, some real American driving excitement. RIP, Pontiac.

What about you? What do you remember from the first car you ever bought?

Year Without Shopping

2009-04-22T06:34:00.003-04:00

My friend Desiree is pretty much every average woman's nightmare. She's highly intelligent, has a fierce sense of honor, never gains an ounce, and is a walking clothes hanger. Literally. Desiree loves fashion and shopping.

Despite all these flaws (virtues?), she's engaging and thoughtful, so even though you could hate her, you don't. This year, Desiree has launched a project, the Year Without Shopping. She's determined to make it an entire year without shopping for new clothing.

When she told me of her goal, her question to me was whether I could go a year. Bien sur! mimi doesn't care about clothes enough to shop very often at all, and when I do, it hovers on the existensial angst and pain scale just slightly above a root canal.

Even when my weight is ideal (which it hasn't been for a while, let me just say), my short stature and Portuguese curves make it highly difficult to find clothes that fit properly, much less flatter. Plus I'm not big into discomfort, which kills most shoe purchases. I also never frothed at the mouth about going to the mall as a teenager, either; I was far happier drooling over expensive writing papers or an elegant fountain pen or books that I ever was about a new pair of jeans or--God forbid--a bathing suit. Making it a year without shopping for clothes? No problem.

But I have to say that Desiree's idea is intriguing. Knowing her, she definitely has the fortitude to see her way to the end of the year, even if it kills her off by inches in the process. She's set up a blog to keep people informed about her progress, which includes snaps of favorite wardrobe pieces, new combinations, and thoughts about meatier topics, like consumerism and the fashion industry's impact on global development (I told you she was smart). Hop over and give girlfriend some love, 'kay?

Year Without Shopping

Tigger vs. Eeyore

2009-04-20T20:23:00.004-04:00

Normal me:

Today me:

My sisters would find this whole discussion trés interessant, since they are both self-confessed Eeyores, ready with an "Oh, bother!" at many of life's travails. I, on the other hand, tend to be that annoying optimist who looks for the pony at the bottom of the pile of manure. You know, bouncy trouncy flouncy pouncy fun-fun-fun-fun-fun!!

Except for lately. It's probably the constant drain of too much stuff in the house and seemingly no time to get it all straightened out--and that's not even considering the schoolwork and the mom tasks and the taxi driving and the writing--but I have been way tired lately. And way tired usually ends up with not much happening at Chez mimi, creative or otherwise.

Maybe it's spring fever. It certainly is gorgeous out there--trés distracting. Aside from a visit from the pharma fairy, any ideas on how to get the bounce back?

#writerfail

2009-04-16T19:51:00.003-04:00

As a writer still camped on the canyon rim across from PublishedLand, I’m very lucky to have landed a fabulous agent. A combination of research, timing, and luck managed to part the clouds and let the angels sing for me, and I assume that any writer still looking for an agent would be serious about making the right match. That means researching what they represent, reading their contracted authors, following their blogs, meeting them in person (if at all possible), and then sending in a query, crossing your fingers, and praying for the heavens to open for you, too. Then I heard about #queryfail.

In case you’re unaware, last month two brave literary agents, Colleen Lindsay and Lauren MacLeod, hosted #queryfail on Twitter. All day long they, and several agents who tweeted separately, posted snippets from queries they’d received that pretty much guaranteed their authors a “no” response. The stated aim of #queryfail was education. Learn what not to do and improve your chances of success.

The agents conducting #queryfail waxed a bit silly during the discussion. Who wouldn’t? When authors inform you the Almighty ordered them to submit, or that their work amalgamates every trend currently burning up the NYT list into a ghastly literary train wreck, or that Oprah would love it if she ever got off her high horse to read it, or it’s so good I couldn’t stop writing and now it’s 700,000+ words, you’ve gone on beyond passion. It’s a simple business fact that publishers cannot buy your work, no matter how unique or transcendent or whatever you believe it to be, if that publisher does not sell that kind of book. Period. This appears to be simple logic to me, but then again, when creative passion and logic collide, logic is often left bleeding by the side of the road.

Writers, no surprise, were hurt and angry from hearing the truth. They wanted to hurt back the way they’d been hurt. So when Jessica Faust offered to host an #agentfail day on her Bookends blog, hundreds of authors took her up on it.

Let me just say, my tent on the canyon rim got much more comfortable after reading some of those posts. Although I’d agree with some of the more reasonable advice—the “no response means no” policy could use a look, if for no other reason than courtesy—I also learned that some writers, frankly, don’t have what it takes to become published. I’m not talking about the quality of the storytelling; I’m talking about the modicum of professional behavior necessary to swim, or even float, in the shark tank of publishing.

An agent’s job is to glean the wheat from the chaff, measure the wheat properly, then find exactly the right bakery to turn that wheat into wholesome, or nourishing, or guilty-but-sinfully-tasty bread. That’s it. They don’t owe authors anything except that they live up to their stated policies regarding submission times. Whether the “I’ll pass” comes on a postcard, a note scribbled in the margins of your query (I’ve gotten one of these), a form rejection, or something personalized, that’s the answer—even if it’s not the answer you want to hear. Agents don’t have to explain why. Have you ever read the back cover copy of a book in a genre you like and decided immediately that it wasn’t going to be your cup of tea? Agents do the same whenever they tackle the next towering batch of unsolicited queries. Unlike we readers and writers, however, they have to do this several hundred times a week on occasion—not including the work they have to do to market their current client list. You think response times are ridiculous now? Imagine how long they would take if every single query, no matter how nutso, required a personal “It’s not you, it’s me” response carefully crafted to let the author down easily, without any bruising of tender egos.

I have a pretty keen imagination, but I have a hard time wrapping my head around that concept. If you’re a writer who is serious about a career in publishing, you will get criticized. If an agent doesn’t do it, an editor will (assuming your work makes it that far). If your book is published, trust me, some reader will hate it. And probably explain why in dripping, sarcastic detail on Amazon. To paraphrase egregiously from Dennis Miller, the publishing world is tough. Wear a cup.

Unfortunately, it seems many writers just don’t understand that concept. If you read some of the anonymous #agentfail comments, you could convince yourself that agents were bloodthirsty, amoral prima donnas who wake up every morning determined to develop new recipes for fricasseed baby author. If you’re in that camp, my question to you is, Why would you want one of those evil harpies repping your work? Yegods.

After reading pretty extensively on agent blogs and writer blogs and publishing blogs (I told you I did my research) on the #queryfail/#agentfail dynamic, I’ve come to this conclusion. Some writers will never be published simply because they just don’t get it.

Hurt by a rejection, so you badmouth the rejector, her taste, her agency, and every author she ever bought? #writerfail

Posting vicious personal comments on an agent because you didn’t like the form of the rejection she sent? #writerfail

Publically questioning in blogs and on email loops the professionalism of an agent or editor because she lacks the vision to understand your unique gift to the world in the form of your current WIP? #writerfail

Criticizing an agent for revealing a personal life beyond the work day in which she keeps up a blog, tweets on Twitter, spends time with her family on vacation, or takes pictures of her dog instead of chaining herself in her office cave to mine for your gem of a manuscript? #writerfail

The point of writing, folks, is to write. You don’t instantly become more of a writer because someone publishes your work. Your knowledge base won’t suddenly increase when you get the call. Your talents won’t blossom into something different. You’ll be the same you, working in the same pajamas, nibbling on the same chocolate. Your outer circumstances change if you get an agent, or the call, but your inner writing life will be just as fraught with doubt and anxiousness and soaring days of wonderfulness as they are now.

If your whole writer identity centers on getting published, you can make that happen. There’s fanfiction and internet posting—one site called Publetariat looked interesting—and POD and self-publishing that will guarantee you exposure and maybe some readers outside your circle of trusted friends and family. If you’re focused on selling to a professional publishing house, whether electronic or print, get in line. Do your research, submit to the right people, cross your fingers, and pray. The right project needs the right time and the right place, folks. If you’re not doing the work to pinpoint what those are, you can’t rail at the publishing world for thwarting your dreams. At that point, you’re the biggest roadblock you have. #writerfail

Mark Twain said, “We can secure other people’s approval if we do right and try hard; but our own is worth a hundred of it, and no way has been found of securing that.” And he’s exactly right. Your opinion, your love for what you do, is the thing that should bring you joy in this, your chosen art. You are a writer because you write. If nothing else, remember that.

Are you still here? The post’s over! Wasting all your writing time infosnacking on the Internet? Classic #writerfail! Get back to your manuscript!

Guest Blogging Today!

2009-04-14T00:01:00.001-04:00

I'm guest blogging today at my friend Terry Odell's Terry's Place...hop on over and check it out! Terry is a writer of romantic suspense and lives in what I have to say is one of the coolest decorating schemes I've experienced. Two words: marine biology. Very, very interesting and gracious woman. Hop on over and give her some love, will ya?

Dreams Never Die

2009-04-13T19:41:00.004-04:00

I couldn't retrace the circuitous route that led me to this gem if you paid me, but trust me, the view is worth it. Susan Boyle, a 47-year-old spinster from West Lothian, Scotland, will convince you that dreams can bloom in the unlikeliest of places. Miss Boyle sang "I Dreamed a Dream" on Britain's Got Talent, and there's nothing I can say that'll do it justice. Be sure to watch for Simon Cowell's (!) big sigh at about the four minute mark.

Click here to see the YouTube video (embedding's been disabled). Awesome. What a gift.

Happy Easter!

2009-04-12T21:50:00.002-04:00

Bad, Bad Monkey

2009-04-05T21:49:00.002-04:00

It's the eve before we return to school from spring break, and in looking back over the preceding week, I realize that I haven't posted all. week. long. Guess I took the "break" in spring break quite at face value!

Of course, once you join Face, er, Crackbook and get a Black, er, CrackBerry, you realize how easy it is for your attention to become divided! So I blame the electronics. Lying around the house in my pjs had nothing to do with it. Nothing at all.

I promise to do better, now that I'm rested. Mostly.

Somebody's Watchin' Meeeeeee

2009-03-28T17:32:00.006-04:00

Okay, this is totally spooky, since Bubbles writes as Elizabeth and her DH's name is Michael:

Oh, and there is that nasty procrastination problem I have...

Check out more of Debbie Ridpath Ohi's cool comics at her blogs:
Will Write For Chocolate and InkyGirl

Sexy New Cell!

2009-03-26T16:48:00.003-04:00

Every once in a while, the Fates smile down. Today was one of those days. Arriving on my doorstep, one of these:

Back in January, when I was researching smartphones (carrying a phone, an iPod, and a Palm was getting annoying), I stumbled across a RIM preview site for T-Mobile's newest, the BlackBerry Curve 8900. There's a contest--enter your email to win one for yourself and your Fave 5. So I dutifully type in a bunch of email addys I can remember off the top of my head who also have T-Mobile phones and forget all about it...until this nice woman calls from Toronto and says I'm a potential winner. We're sending paperwork, fill it out and send it back, and we'll send you some phones.

Right. Like it's that easy.

Turns out it is! I filled out, notarized, tossed it in an International Priority Mail envelope, and a week and a half later, voilà! I now own a CrackBerry. Pretty, isn't it? Now I have to re-learn everything. But if it makes my life even that much calmer, it's worth it! Plus, it makes an excellent milestone birthday gift for Kelz. Yay BlackBerries! Yay, Canadians! T-Mobile for life, y'all!!