Secrets...

So, yesterday I put on the mantle of silence. It worked. Listening is hard work. Today, my boss sat me down and told me I need to talk more with her. When I shared this with my friends and husband they asked if I was screwing up at work. That got a big, fat NO. I'm doing well at work. The problem is I internalize everything and feel that any snafu, my fault or no, is somehow a failing on my part. Now, I've got to re-learn how to function in corporate society. I've always been in places where I was responsible for my own knowledge, and as I'm a self-learning type, that works for me. That is not the culture of my present job. My boss is nervous because I don't talk to her enough. She said, in fact, that she sometimes forgets I'm there because I'm so quiet! That was my biggest laugh today. No one has ever accused me of being that quiet.

Balance, balance, balance. When I do talk at work, which feels like a constant as it is a byproduct of the job, people ask if I've ever considered radio. And if they're feeling really mischievous, they ask if I've ever considered doing phone sex for a living. Yikes! Now, I do always say I have a face for radio, but phone sex? Come on! My attention span is WAY too short for that. Guess it's nice to know I have a fall-back if this burgeoning career falls through. Phone sex...

I wonder if that's why my characters have such interesting lives. So far, on the outside they are innocuous women no one would ever suspect of being anything other than teachers, moms, or otherwise. These women are dark horses, be assured. I doubt I'll ever write a phone sex suspense, but it does sound like one for the "think box." What makes a character for me, fiction or otherwise, is that deep secret that becomes unveiled at the right moment. Like finding out your best friend for years was a champion ballroom dancer decades ago. Yep, that really happened. I already loved her, but I gained a new level of respect for her many talents.

Confession time... What are your secrets?

A slice of silence anyone?

We have two ears and one mouth, in most cases. Yet how much do we actually use those features in proportion? I know I'm guilty of disproportionate use. My success at work is dependant upon my ability to hear what my customers say as well as what they don't say so I can give them the best options. I'm a talker by nature. Just ask anyone who's had the pleasure of reading one of my rough drafts! My trainer summed it up perfectly. "Elayne, you love words, but you talk so fast! Make sure your words mean something!" Talk about being put in my place.

My goal this week is to shut up. To make my words count. Sure, I heard it at work, but what's funny is that all of the principles I'm learning at work translate to my writing. See above comment. I do love words. Maybe because I've spent my whole life trying to prove my worth, I depend on words too much. Silence is equally impactful.

Tomorrow I'm going to be quiet. I'll probably bust wanting to say the unnecessary, but my goal is to let people tell me their story. Just like my characters want to tell their story. How much have I gotten in the way of my success? Can I pause for a beat and let people, be they real or fiction, speak to me? Only time will tell.

Not feeling so hot...

You ever have one of those days where you feel like an absolute failure? Nothing happened that made today terrible. In fact, it was blase. My problem is me. I am a perfectionist, and when I feel that I've deviated from perfect, it chips away at me. I am good at my job, though I am still learning so it feels like everything is an uphill climb. My customers love me, and the feeling is mutual. I adore my co-workers and can't tell you how much time we spend laughing and keeping each other motivated. On the drive home from work it dawned on me that being successful is more work than just doing a job. Success in my mind means that I top yesterday's achievements. What if I just can't? But see, can't isn't an option because too many people depend on me to perform. Too many people believe I can do anything I put my mind to. As empowering as it is to know that my family and friends respect me that much, it is also daunting. And exhausting.

So I was feeling pretty funky when I slumped through the door. Going shopping for jeans after work did nothing to make me feel better, but that's a blog for another day. Anyway, I logged into laptop central and checked my email. My eldest son's teacher responded to the note I sent her late last night. Big sigh. I will sum up as best I can how I came to be writing a late night email to my son's literature teacher.

To start, DH and I have VERY different political views, and we are equally passionate in these beliefs. Add to the mix that we're both first born and watch the drama explode! My eldest came home one day and told his dad that the teacher was reading a nasty book full of bad words in class. His words, not mine. He said the book made him feel uncomfortable. After probing, my son told my husband what bothered him was that there was a boy in a dress who claimed to have "two pee-pees." I have to say to my husband's credit, he researched the book before writing a letter to the teacher. The conclusion of the letter being that he would let our son decide the best course of action.

The next day, the teacher sent home a copy of the book so we could review it. I was excited because I wanted to see what all the drama was about. Because the book had to be returned by the end of the school year, I put aside my TBR pile and plunged in. It was an amazing read, and I am so glad I had the opportunity to read it.

Let's go back to the teacher. I wrote her a note, thanking her for allowing me to read the book and for promoting more thoughtful student interaction. Yes, the book was that good. She not only wrote me back, but CC'd the Dean and shared my letter. She said my thanks made her week. The Dean emailed me to tell me that parents don't often thank the teachers for the good they do, so she appreciated me taking the time to do so. I was shocked, and probably will be for awhile because it was the right thing to do. What kind of world do we live in that thank you, two simple words, can make someone's week?

So when I went back to thinking about being an abysmal failure because I'm not yet perfect, I had to shift gears. Maybe if I can manage to spread sunshine when I'm feeling nothing but storm clouds, life isn't so bad. By the way, in case you wanted to know, the name of the book was The Misfits by James Howe.

Van Damme, it's Thursday!

I'm so happy it's Thursday, I should be ashamed. All I can think about is how much sleep I will get this weekend. I'm sure I'll make some time for writing. After all, I have the middle of the end bits to fill in. And I think this book may require an epilogue. I know if I was the reader and came to the end as it stands, I'd feel cheated. I'm one of those people who has to know what happened to my good fictional friends.

Today at work, my co-workers asked us to share our song. Nope, not a romantic one. If you were to enter a room and music announced your arrival, what would the song be? Daunting, isn't it? Maybe not for you all because you are more savvy than me, but I am still stumped. I want to find something clever, not too common, yet something I actually know. I'm not really good with music, so I'm hoping they forget.

What's your theme music?

The end!

I've been a busy little bee, friends. Tonight, after much toil and torment, I wrote the end of this book. I won't tell you that I skipped some bits. Nope, you won't hear that from me! It's not cheating, really, the end was ready to be written. It's violent and terrible, and perhaps even a bit shocking. I love it. My girl isn't displaying any of those behaviors girls of my time were taught--that whole demure grin and bear it nonsense. She's doing the one thing I think most of us have wanted to do at one time or another--paying back the one who's hurt us.

Maybe it's just me, but sometimes I do want to exact revenge on people who've taken the time out of their day to make my existence a living nightmare. That's such an unhealthy way to live, I know, which is why I don't indulge. My characters get to do it for me. Almost like that scene in The Man Who Knew Too Little starring Bill Murray. Anyone ever seen it? It's one of my favorites! Bill Murray's character is driving down a closed roadway, hitting the orange cones in such a way that they fly up in an arc before landing on the road again. He says he's always wanted to do it. The cops chasing him echo his sentiments. Granted my characters opted for violence rather than a fun bit of mischief. What does that say about me? Yikes!

A little whine, hold the cheese...

My characters are getting married. Their friends and family are going to be furious I'm sure because the happy couple snuck off to do the deed. Is snuck even a word? I doubt it, but it seems to fit, so I'm not changing it. A while ago I wasn't sure what these people were going to do. They held their cards close to their chests, if you know what I mean. Lately, they've been more vocal. So now I'm up to the big scene, and I wonder how it will turn out. Sure, they're going to be together forever, happy in wedded bliss, but they aren't quite there yet. I've got about two chapters left, and a body to put on the ground. Things are about to get interesting.

Elsewhere in this writer's world, I continue to tweak my house to my specs. We've worked hard, and I'm tired of all of it. Where can a wife/mom/working gal go to retire? Jeez, I'd be happy with a weekend! Already this weekend is packed with more family events. Never mind that this weekend is our anniversary. We are supposed to travel the countryside at the family's whim. Can you tell I'm not pleased? It's not that I don't like them. I do. I just want one weekend where I sleep in and don't wake up tired. DH said I don't have to do anything I don't want to . He's in a ticklish situation--caught between his parents and me. I'm not ranting at him. For now, I'm pretending to have no obligations outside my home. It's almost working.

Fried, dyed, and laid to the side...

Yup, it's another title that bears no meaning to the text herein. So, if you thought you were in for something exciting, prepare to be disappointed. Possibly. Saturday is my day to chill out. Yeah, there's yard work and housework to do, but I try to sleep in and pretend none of it exists. My children had other plans for me. At six-thirty, the sun stretched its fingers under the blackout blinds, the neighbors' birds chirped a "good morning" song, and my youngest son dragged himself into my room to tell me calamity befell him as he tried to get out of bed.

How hard is it to jump from the bed to the floor? In all fairness, he sleeps on the top bunk, so his trip is a tad longer than mine, but that's what the ladder is for! Not for my baby. No, he had to try to flip from the top to the bottom bunk. He managed to get his leg caught on the way down (didn't know the air had arms) and struck his head on a bookshelf. I'm still confused about the logistics of it all, but I was tired. The good news is he's fine. His big brother was traumatized by seeing the drama unfold. I've learned to be less reactive, as I know that boy is a drama king. Everything about him is animated. He's mouthy as all get out, and loves to attention. We're still in a quandary as to how he came by these traits.

A few minutes later he was using one of his dad's canes to vault through the house and terrorize my eldest. Told you he was fine. It's just funny to watch them all together--especially when they've got their minds set on no good. I love how they stick together. The way they all don the blank stare when I ask who ate cherries in the bed and threw the pits on the floor. That's love. I hope they will always be that way, minus the seeds, because life is hard but so much better/easier when one proceeds with company. Sure, misery loves company, but I've never had a good time that didn't involve human contact in one way or another. Besides, if my boys don't stick together, who will believe their crazy mom stories?

On the writing front, I've cleaned up a lot of stuff and feel like I can finally move forward. Yea! I'm supposed to be writing right now, but here I am pretending the novel fairies will come out and do the ending while I sleep. The way those faeries have been slacking around the house, I don't know why I trust them. Oh well. Must get to work. My characters are calling...or is that the dinner dishes? Happy Saturday!

The Happy Hooker...

One of my dear writer friends paid me an extreme compliment weeks ago--one I'm still processing. She read what's available of my current work in progress and told me that each chapter ended with such a strong hook that had to read on. Isn't that what we want as writers? To write the book that won't let you go to sleep 'til you've finished it? I was tickled when she said that to me, but thrilled when I read her edits of my work. Now I must share why I love her critiques so much.

She is a screenwriter. What that means to me is that she has what seems to me an innate ability to remove fluff. I've tightened a lot of my work because of her recommendations. After my first manuscript, which she read, incidentally, I dropped the adverbs. Okay, so more like tamed them, but for me it feels the same. You'd never know by the way I write this blog that I can string sentences together in a cogent manner. This is my free space, so I indulge.

In my dreams, I possess the material of a screenwriter. The ability to write succinctly, yet rich with vivid detail. In my waking existence, I know I am a novelist. I feel as though I need all those words to paint a picture, so I guess I do. Being around my dear friend has taught me how amazing the craft of producing a screen or stay play is. I know at this point that is not my gift. Someone once told me that we admire in others those qualities we do not possess. For me, that is truth.

For a second I was tempted to think she was just being nice, but as I read her comments from page to page, I realized that she was being honest. She hasn't minced words or sugar-coated her critique to the point of oblivion. Have I mentioned lately how much I appreciate people telling me the truth? So when she told me she was hooked from one chapter to the next, I squealed, "I'm a hooker!" She laughed. I think I stunned her for a moment; an accomplishment if I do say so myself. I always wanted to be a hooker. That should be every writer's goal, right? I mean really, not everyone is going to read a book that doesn't captivate them from word one. Time is precious, so why waste it doing something you don't benefit from.

It's funny how this writing principle finds itself in other parts of my life--like say, work. One of the things we talk about on the job is what's in it for the customer. If you don't see the value of my service, you aren't going to buy it. Logical when it's put in words. So what's in it for the reader when they sit with my book? Shouldn't they find something compelling to keep them there, nose tucked in the pages? I know there will be people who don't "get" my writing. There are authors out there I don't enjoy, but I have this compulsion that makes me finish what I start. Every book on the shelf or in the remainder bin holds a lesson. More than a story, I am learning to to see that quality that differentiates one novel from another. Regardless of what happens to my books, I will always hold a deep regard for wordsmiths. I don't know if it's talent or training that makes a writer. I don't know that it matters, but I intend to keep on hooking.

What do you do to keep your readers reading?

One more, then I'm going to bed!

Responding to Julie's and Ellen's comments got me thinking, and rather than write a ridiculously long comment, I thought I'd share here. I've got queries out there. Writing is an exercise in bravery for me. Each time I share my work with someone else, I'm putting my neck on the chopping block. I'm putting myself there! What kind of parallel universe have I slipped into? Purposely subjecting myself to rejection. Such is the writer's life. I could be a true wannabe, and never let my pages see the light of day, but I'm not wired that way. Even if it hurts, I have to give myself the chance to succeed. I don't want to be an old woman with stories of what I could have been. I don't want to have to explain to my children why I never chased my dreams. Yes, rejection hurts, but embodying failure in the eyes of my children is more pain than I'm willing to endure.

But I digress. I sent off two agent queries at the end of January--literally the end. It's May, and I've heard nothing. Part of me wants to be happy that it's taking so long. No news is good news, right? The other part of me is afraid that I've waited all this time for a rejection. Thanks to the Golden Heart, I've learned that my writing evokes strong emotion. That's a great feeling as a writer, though I wish it translated into better contest scores. The whole business is subjective, so I wasn't too disappointed with my results. The waiting was what killed me! So now, here I am again, waiting to see what these agents will have to say about my work. For the record, Julie, I took Linda Lael Miller's advice and submitted my work to Harlequin. I haven't heard from them yet either, but I only sent it off early March, so it could be a while. How am I supposed to stay sane while waiting for a response?

I do have a few ideas. There's a contest I plan to enter--Mid-Michigan RWA's "Happily Ever After." I love all of my manuscript, but the end is my favorite part. We'll see how that goes. Of course, I have editing to do on my RS. And I've got a new one in the works, which should be a funny suspense. At least the beginning is funny, so I'm excited about getting it going. Okay, that worked. I'll make it a few more days.

TBD

I've run out of ideas for titles. At least titles that reflect the crazy, rested, happy mood I'm in. So TBD works. For kicks, I thought I'd cruise the web. I've hit a couple blogs and my favorite writing sites, with one exception. It's been a good night. Dinner was sour Skittles washed down with Diet Coke. Not for my kids, of course! So much for my diet though. For a control freak, my leniency with myself is beyond belief. I really ought to do something about that. Anyway, as I perused some good sites, I came across my favorite writer's conference, La Jolla Writers Conference.

Okay, that makes it sound like it was by sheer happenstance that I entered the website. Not quite true, I'm afraid. I went there with a purpose. I wanted to see who was attending this year and perhaps jinn up some courage to have a private read. I'm still working on the courage part, but I learned the coolest thing. They have a special rate this year for dynamic duos. This is already one of the most affordable conferences available to authors across genre spectra, but the new discount makes it difficult to pass up. By then, I'll have time to take from work and my short day is Friday anyway, so I wouldn't lose much. I know the airport and love La Jolla. Do you see how I'm having a difficult time telling myself no? Anyway, if you're curious about LJWC, please check out the link to the right. This year, I wanted to go to RWA's conference, but there was no way to swing it with the move. I've told myself to be content with the pictures and the workshop recordings, which are fabulous by the way.

So because I can't come up with anything savvy to say, happy Friday all!!!

Things that make you go hmmm....

Life is funny sometimes... I love where I work. The people are amazing and I spend a lot more time laughing than I get paid to do. But hey, it makes the days fly! We just got these cool carafes for our coffee, and I was so stoked. I can drink coffee all day and night. Anyway, one of my dear co-workers decided to put a small coffee cup under the basket drip thingy and turned it on. Why oh why, dear friends would someone do this? I just don't know. Of course, the coffee streamed onto the floor and created a huge mess. This wouldn't be funny if we weren't all really intelligent people, if I do say so myself. My dear co-worker stayed and cleaned the entire mess. We all had a good laugh over it today.

Beyond the good times at the office, I've been thinking about my wild times in the Aloha State. There's no better place to party, in my opinion. I just relayed a story to a friend that I thought I'd told her about long ago. It has a profane title, so let's just say it involved male anatomy. Anyway, this slick rick thought it would be a good idea to slip his rod of glory into my hand while I had my back to him. Now, as nothing of this nature had ever happened to me, I was shocked. Too stunned to do anything more than scream and rant at him for his "indiscretion." Thanks to this rude dude, I now know what to do when faced with the one-eyed snake--at least when it's used in such a way!

But see, that's the funny part of life. Just like Forrest Gump's mama said, "Life is like a box of chocolate. You never know what you're gonna get." Never would I suspect that my co-worker would do something as silly as expect to catch 24 cups of coffee in an 8-ounce Styrofoam cup. And never in a million years would I have expected to have a close encounter of the penile kind, especially not in a public place! Yeah, eventually this stuff is going to end up in a book. You knew it would come to that.

So what's the weirdest thing that's happened to you?

Still Kickin'

Can you believe it's already May? Gosh, summer is literally around the corner and I barely remember winter. Okay, maybe I won't go that far. Winter seemed to last a long, long time. But time has flown. The new job is absolutely fantastic. I get to impact people's lives daily in a positive way. I go to bed exhausted at night, which is why I've been the amazing disappearing woman as of late. The plus side is that I've been writing. Yes, I've still got about three chapters left to write, but I'm paring down the page count. I'm heading into one of the final action scenes, and I think I may get to write another wedding. Who knows? The characters are keeping mum.

When I'm not working or writing, I spend my spare time unpacking boxes. You know, one never knows how much stuff one's managed to accumulate until the unpacking begins. Dude! I swear, my California is leaking. The good news is my kitchen is totally organized, the kids' rooms are finished and the living room is great. The room that houses my dragons, like my bedroom is a work in progress. It could be worse. I could still be looking at wall-to-wall boxes. There's something about having a place to call home. Knowing that when I leave work, I'm going to a place where comfort awaits. I feel so blessed--tired, but blessed. While my eyes are open, I'm going to lay pen to paper. Book four is screaming to be written, and I won't do it 'til three is done. Time to get this dog and pony show on the road.

Am I the only person who finds the end of a story difficult to write? I'm like this when I read too. I hate to reach the end because I'm losing my friends. What do you do to cure the end-of-story blues?

When I grow up...

Every now and again, I wonder who I'll be when I grow up. I know who I am at the core, but seeing into the future is a tad difficult for me. My crystal ball is in the shop. At any rate, I think about all the opportunity skimming my extremities. If you stop for a minute and just feel what's around you, you'll notice it too. In every direction, jutting from our bodies, is the chance to impact the world. Now I'm not saying all the choices are right, or even where we should go, but they are there.

Maybe I can blame Pay It Forward for this new round of soul searching. But it's not the only book that's made me step back and analyze my purpose. It's right up there with Paulo Cohelho's The Alchemist. That book was introduced to me by an old chum. She told me it was good and that it presented something new with each re-read. So I read it. On a plane to England. And I felt as though I'd been kicked in the gut. In a good way, if that's possible. Now, it's a book I give to people. Mostly people I see on the crux of a life change, or at the very least, people who will appreciate it. Please, please, if you haven't read this book, find it. I could have kicked myself for reading it in a public place. That was years ago, and apparently, I haven't learned much since then. I had to hold my eyes wide open so the tears wouldn't spill all over my blouse.

Every time I open The Alchemist, there is a new message. I have to wonder if the reason it touches me so is because I haven't done the one thing I need to do. I am reminded that my journey, including the pain that tags along, is not all about me. Most of the time it is, but sometimes, those lessons are opportunities for others to learn how to respond to what seems negative. Kind of like Mitch Albom's Five People You Meet In Heaven. Another keeper. Another dear, dear friend told me I had to read it. Because she's not a reader, I knew it had to be a stunning book. She was so right. She told me to read it at a time when I was asking why a lot. I was in a bad place. One where almost nothing made sense. And I was whining big time. This good friend told me, "Sometimes, it's not about you." Now, if you knew her, and could hear her matter-of-fact way of speaking, you might think she was a little harsh. No way. She told me the truth. Exactly what I needed to hear in that instance, and I am SO grateful that she loves me enough to tell me the truth. I read the book. Why do the great ones always reduce me to tears?

Each of these books has served to remind me how much of an impact the small deeds can have on our world. They make me feel capable of creating change, yet at the same time, they make me feel inadequate. For all the times I forget to do the small things for my fellow man, for all the times I set a bad example for my little people instead of a great one because sometimes, slacking off is so much easier, for all the times I complain about things that seem wrong in my life. It would also be so easy to revel in abject failure. After all, each of the heroes in the book did something--well, heroic! I don't do anything heroic. Not to me, anyway. Do you remember that movie, While You Were Sleeping? One of my favorite lines was the one Sandra Bullock's character delivered to Peter Gallagher's character. "It is to the person who sits in it."

It is the small things that make the biggest difference. Even something as simple as giving up my seat to someone who could better use it. So while those books sufficiently put me in my place, they also offer hope. Each of the protagonists were normal people, just like me. With normal problems, just like me. And they made mistakes--like I do. So who do I want to be when I grow up? I want to be the one who writes those books. The ones that make your face fight between laughter and tears.

I've got a long, winding road ahead...

More on the horizon...

This is short. My apologies, dear friends. I'm in the middle of a GREAT book. You all have probably read it, so please pardon my exuberance. Pay It Forward by Catherine Ryan Hyde. Julie, if you didn't get to meet her last year, look out for her this year at the conference. I think she's teaching a course. I wouldn't have to think if I actually looked, but hey, I'm only human. Anyway, if you haven't read this book, stop what you're doing and find a copy. Okay, you're allowed to sleep and stuff, but this is a must read. Before you ask, I've never seen the movie. At this point, I doubt I will, but Ms. Hyde can tell a story so compelling I don't need to see it played out in film. If the cyber gods are generous, I'll do a review here. Crossing my fingers that it doesn't get eaten.

So, what have you read lately? Have you read Pay It Forward, and if so, what did you think?

Happy Friday... and I'm not just saying that!

Okay, you all gave me great advice on the toxic person I was dealing with so at the very least, I owe you an update. Do I still think she's a bit of a wasteland? Sadly, yes. However, my group and I decided to give it another go. As hard as all of us try to be, not one of us could let her fall into an abyss--at least not without offering a hand up and out. We invited her to a study group because it was more than apparent that she felt insecure with the material we learned in class. Included in the study was an informal dinner. Nothing washes down stress like a good meal. Plus, if you're mouth's full, you can't say anything hurtful. See, we're smarter than we look.

Anyway, we all made it our duty to make her feel welcome and let her know that the rest of her experience was her choice. Before this lovely dinner, we surrounded her with positivity at lunch. Literally. Each of us discussed our own failings and personality quirks so no one felt singled out, and we worked on quality fixes for those little idiosyncrasies. Honestly, I wasn't looking for a solution to my hot-temperedness or snarkiness. I like those parts of me just fine, and until they stop serving me, I'll wear them like a cheap fur coat. The "take-away" from our lunch and dinner was the power of positivity.

Cross my heart, I'm not a happiness guru. I believe we create our realities. And in the face of fierce positive energy, this woman could not be negative. She was cooperative and didn't try to bulldoze us with stories of superiority. We all put away our ill feelings too, which was again, powerful! All of this happened because each of us made a choice. That is a power each of us possesses. To choose to succeed or fail, to choose to love or hate, to choose to make the world a better place, or to be a rabid consumer, sucking away at the good things that are waiting a simple choice beyond our grasp.

Alrighty then!

Life is still on the fast forward track in my neck of the woods. This is my second week of training at the new job, and while I'm nervous about the amount of information being thrown at me, I'm excited. It seems like those two emotions should be polar opposites, or at least not manifest in equal amounts, but in this case, neither is true. Okay, so maybe I'm more excited than nervous, but the anxiety is still there. That's new for me.

Anyone who knows me will tell you that I jump into my decisions with both feet. Deep water? That's okay because I'll learn to swim that much quicker. I don't know that the water could get much deeper. Some wise person once said, "When it rains, it pours." Most of the time, I see that handy adage applied to negative situations. Not so in my situation. I'll give you a quick rundown, and you can be the judge.

We moved from an undisclosed location to a disclosed location. My husband and I went from being employed to being job-searching fiends. I got a job, DH is still looking. The kids are in school. I've become reacquainted with the in-laws. Sooner than I knew it, my job sent me away for training. So now I'm away from home--aka my home on wheels. Funny aside. A home on wheels grows smaller the longer you live in it--especially if you're talking about living with four other people and all of their things.

Dude! No one tells you this stuff! So I thought I should be a font of information--just in case you ever wondered. So it won't be a Jeopardy question, but hey, I'm working with what I've got here. Anyway, the smaller the palace on wheels got, the more interested DH and I became in finding a home that was a bit more permanent. Preferably one with a basement and a full kitchen. We browsed the MLS listings in the area for the "perfect" place. And finally, when life got super busy, the perfect place found us.

Is it wrong to fall in love with an inanimate object? If it is, sign me up for Kitchen Lovers Anonymous. This is the largest kitchen I've had--ever. And soon, very soon, it will be mine. After living in a travel trailer, almost any home would feel like a palace, but this place is everything DH and I wanted. He had the onerous task of making the final decision because I've been away for work. Every time he asked if he was doing the right thing, I let him know that he would make the right decision. I trust him. Not just because there will be hell to pay if he does the wrong thing. No doubt, there always is when he crosses the wrong line. But in this situation, he had an interest in choosing a home that would be a haven for all of us when we need a retreat from the cruel world. I've told him and I'll tell you too, he did a damn good job.

On more creative fronts, I've not written much lately. Last night, I did two pages, which were fun. It's amazing when I know my characters how well I can write. They let me jump into their heads and roam around. I don't know the ending yet, other than it will be a happy one. Isn't that what people read romance for? I will write for a bit before bed and then wake, ready for a new day of learning. Only a few days to go, and I'm already sad to leave behind the wonderful folks I've met here. That's what email is for, I guess.

I'm still waiting to hear on a couple queries I sent off before the move, and the one I mailed since living here. Yes, I'd love to have someone say yes, you must sign up now. But right now, I just want to know that my work was reviewed. I am quickly reaching the ten-week mark on the first two and am getting nervous. What if they hate my work or think I'm a newbie who has no clue about the market or what makes good fiction? If that's the case, I'll have to cross those agents off the list and move to the next. But I really, really don't want to do that. I want to hear yes, so until I do, no news is good news.

Today I got a view of what I don't want to be when I grow up. I've heard that we don't like qualities in others that we detest in ourselves. Since I agree with that, at least 99% of the time, it makes me really wonder what or who people see when they look at me. I met this person who has one of the ugliest spirits I've seen in anyone in a long time. She is rude, self-centered and generally frustrating to be around. When I do spend time with her, I feel as though I have to be on guard for some sort of personal attack. Not that she strikes out at me directly. No, she's one of those who spreads the wealth. It's just that she's not the sort of person one feels safe around.

In my heart of hearts I don't believe that she is a terrible person. In fact, she seems deeply wounded. Her actions and words scream that she is someone who has suffered tremendous hurt. Yet, I'm having the most difficult time seeing past the surface ugliness to get to who she truly is. There was a time when I would work until that nugget of coal produced the diamond. Now, I almost can't be bothered. I know this woman wouldn't have been placed in my life if we weren't to have an impact on each other, but I'm still asking why. In the spirit of gratefulness, I'm going to thank God that I've been allowed to see what I can. In the meantime, I'm desperately seeking perspective.

So, for my dear beloved readers, what do you do when confronted with a difficult person? If your prior coping methods weren't effective, what do you think you could do better?

Who put the day on fast forward???

I woke up this morning. That much I remember. I'm in bed now, typing away at laptop central. Pretty sure of that too. The rest of the day is a blur. One minute I was cruising a thrift store and sucking down Jamba Juice's new All Fruit Pomegranate smoothie. Yum-o, by the way! The next, I was cruising between dryers at the laundromat and folding clothes. How did it all happen? What did I actually do? Maybe the body snatchers finally laid claim to the time I owe them. All I know is that I'm dead dog tired and feeling like a wimp. Used to be I could stay up all hours of the night, writing on my manuscript while my coffee IV kept me humming. Now, I'm begging my body for one more hour, just like a child trying to get a bedtime extension. So I want to know. Who put fresh batteries in the remote and left the forward frame button mashed in?

Only a couple days before I head to Denver on life adventure #5693. Nah, I don't really have them numbered, but it sounded fun. Would that number make me boring or exciting? Denver means packing, which means I have to empty my garment bag of undies (you didn't think I was kidding all those days ago, did you?) and fill it with business attire. Sayonara jeans, hello slacks and skirts...and pantyhose. I can't wait! I've been feeling entirely too casual lately, so it's time to shake things up. My aim is to be really rebellious and run in the mornings before training. Guess that means I get to keep the Pullman of shoes.

Sunday, we are going to the FIL's house for Easter dinner. I know it's not Easter yet, but this is one of the byproducts of divorce--split holidays. He loves to cook. The kids have a blast. This will be the first time I've seen all the grandkids at his house. Should be interesting. Usually we're all at my MIL's house. I'm sure my step-MIL will keep everyone in line. They are typical grandparents. We wash up before and after meals, we use proper table manners and we walk in the house. Meanwhile, grandma and grandpa sneak the kids cookies and sodas, but that's what grandparents are for. I've heard reports that my kids have told the GP's that they shouldn't have any sweets before eating their veggies. I still beam with pride. If nothing else, I've taught my kids the value of green.

Sunday could be heaven or hell. Nine grandkids and three Scottie dogs could put a hitch in the normal order. Is it wrong that I'm enjoying an internal giggle over this? I know after I hang out with my little entourage and my nephews and nieces, I am wiped out. Mostly, I've learned to tune them all out. If no one's bleeding, crying or dying, everything's fine. And if all else fails, I can make an escape.

What a difference a day makes!

Today I went on the walk I've been meaning to take for a week. My brain finally shut down, refusing to do any more until I kept my side of our little bargain. So off I went. The park is gorgeous--complete with a pond, geese, playground, heck, they even had a horseshoe pit. Lots of folks were out today, playing with their little ones, strolling like me and playing Frisbee with their pooches. Now, I have to tell you the weather wasn't all that great. In fact, I fully expected to be drenched, but I went anyway. Turns out all that got wet was my shirt from all the sweat I managed to work up.

My goal was to push through some of the crap in my head so I could function. I was stressed out about finding a job, worrying about my characters and about the example I'm setting for my kids. I told myself I would walk until I had clarity on all the above. Bet you're surprised I made it home before dark! My first lap I allowed myself to observe my surroundings. One of the first things I noticed was how grumpy the other walkers looked, and couldn't understand why. Who knows, maybe I looked grumpy too, but I didn't feel it. I was lost in thought for a good part of the walk, but no matter how many ugly thoughts popped up, there were always two or three wonderful ones that followed. Consequently, I couldn't fight the smile that kept tugging at my mouth. I mean really, when you eat everyday, have a place to live and a family who believes the best of you, what is there to be depressed about? I am so blessed!

When we embarked on this adventure--moving to Colorado, trust me, I've edited all the gory details out, I told myself we would be fine. I'm really good at pushing small, negative details out of mind when I need to. And that's what I did. After the job hunting commenced, I started getting a little discouraged. As a writer, rejection is as much a part of life as hours at the keyboard. For some reason though, not getting major bites on the job front felt like a rejection from the human race. I like to work. I worked for my education and I know what I'm capable of. I started wondering what I did wrong to be where I am. I worried about how I was going to care for my children and seriously entertained the idea that I was the butt of some cosmic joke. All the time, though, I kept up my positive face. Like putting on your good clothes and a touch of makeup can make you feel more together, the upbeat facade was healing. So maybe it was like putting a little band-aid on a big wound, but at least it kept some of the filth out. Still, the ugly thoughts would worm their way in and I needed more to maintain a good attitude.

I decided to control the things I could. Good ole Serenity Prayer. I went to Wild Oats and bought some good-for-me food. On the way out of the store, I grabbed one of the free magazines on the shelf. I didn't read it right away. It actually sat in my car for a few days, untouched except for when someone needed to sit on the passenger seat. One day, DH and I planned to shop and I had to wait in the car for him to get ready. I swear he takes more time than me to get gussied up! Anyway, I read the magazine. Some of it was interesting, but one article stood out. It was about cultivating an attitude of gratefulness. I like to think that I do that consistently, but it was such a timely reminder. So I wake, thankful for a new day, for my family and friends who love me. I go to bed, thankful that I'm not outside seeking shelter in a doorway. Some days it's hard to remember to do it--to find that one thing to be grateful for when the world seems shrouded in crap, but I do it. Because that is something I can control--my attitude.

There's an old saying: your attitude determines your altitude. Ten points if you can tell me where it comes from. It's true. How can I believe anything else when I've seen the truth in that statement time and time again? Yesterday, I was unemployed. Today, that is no longer the truth. Maybe I would have secured the job anyway, but I believe being open to thankfulness connected me to the opportunity. There's a lot of crap in the world, and it sucks to wade through it all, but there's a lot of good too. What would happen if we all decided to control what was in our power? What would happen if we truly decided to become the change we want to see in our world? What would happen if we just said thank you when we open our eyes in the morning and before we shut them at night?

Slaying time...

More like wasting time. I've been playing the good auntie for the past few days. It was fun, but I forgot how exhausting it can be to hang out with kids who aren't mine. The kids were all great, but I am so boring that I wonder how my own children survive with me. We don't watch much TV during the week--Spring Break or no. I don't let them play video games for more than an hour, and that's only once every couple of months. So what do we do? We read, play outside or just hang out. In between we have meals where we again, sit together and share our day's events. See, not much happening. I was so looking forward to sleeping in today. My body and mind are exhausted from being chipper and hopeful.

It would be so easy to just be a pessimist. No energy to expend that way. Being positive is exercise. I will myself to see the silver lining on each cloud. I write when it would be easier to pretend I'd never heard of my characters. And constantly, I wear a smile for my babies because they deserve a smooth, drama free time. They didn't ask to be born, and I refuse to make their lives hell on earth. Tonight, I am going to spend some real time with my family. Who knows what we'll get up to, but it will be interesting.

Later, my characters and I will have a meeting of the minds. I've written myself into a neat little corner. I made one of my characters cry and can't remember why I did it. That's what I get for stopping in the middle of a scene. I re-read choice bits of the story this afternoon to reacquaint myself with the characters and the action. I like these people. If only I could remember why I made Katt cry.

Okay, the movie's on--Clue. Cult classic and one of my all time faves. This is what I'll call beta viewing. Catch you tomorrow folks. Same bat time, same bat channel.

Catching Up...

So, what have I been up to for the past week? Job stalking, reading, cooking, cleaning. All normal stuff. Of course, I've spent a huge amount of time at the local library. It's a great place to escape--quiet, full of books. What else could a girl want?

Lately, I've been waking early--earlier than normal. Some of it's stress. Yes, dear friends, I'm admitting it out loud. There are chinks in my armour. Some of my early bird rising is because I've been reading fab books and couldn't wait another minute to finish the story. Then, there's always the fact that I'm wired to wake with the sun. When I lived in Alaska, I didn't really sleep in the summer. I just sort of paused and then did everything all over again. Man, I miss that place. For those who've never been, that's a do-before-you-die sort of thing. And do it in the winter! The snow sparkles, the Northern Lights twist in a ribbon dance across the sky, and you can taste the quiet. I didn't mean for this to become an ode to Alaska. It's just one of the few places in my life that's felt like home.

Home. Amazing how trite it sounds 'til you're searching for one. I've developed too-late syndrome. I fall in love with a house too late. Someone's already snagged it and I have to move on. I just remind myself that if it were perfect for me and mine, I'd have it. There are no coinky-dinks, which means perfection looms around the corner. Sounds scary. Even scarier is the thought that I'll have to unpack all my crap and find (you guessed it) the perfect place for it.

The point in my urge to blog today was to share some of the amazing books I've read. Once I had that library card in my hot little hand, there was nothing stopping me. I checked out Plum Lovin' and Twelve Sharp by Janet Evanovich. I laughed, and then felt sad when the adventure was over. Typical me. Good thing book 13 is around the corner. Next, I read Terry Goodkind's Phantom. Now, I used to be a bit obsessed with his books. Love the philosophy, though the author says it's not a purposeful injection. In my mind, this goes back to all fiction having some autobiographical roots. We can't help put that little slice of self into our work, and I'm glad. Otherwise I might have missed out on so many amazing thinkers.

I read through Phantom like it was my life source. I'd waited too long between books, you see. Plus, when it came out, I misunderstood that this was to be the last in The Sword of Truth series. I've never been so glad to be wrong. As I neared the end, I kept saying to myself, "There's no way he's going to be able to tie up all these loose ends. There are too few pages and too much stuff that has to happen." I was right. Guess it's good for me that he has the other book coming out this fall. I love the world he constructed, the characters, the conflict and the fact that it is more broad than the typical man-and-his-journey story. The appeal for me is that the characters are not unlike me--even though in their world magic is as real as the air they breathe. If you haven't read these books, please do.