These days I’m busy with the business of becoming an author, a “real” writer. There are agent websites to read, Publisher’s Marketplace postings to analyze, words to polish. And, of course, a new writing project to put real time and effort into. There are new characters to make alive and so these are busy days in deed.
Today is Columbus Day which is a holiday of sorts. Some kids have the day off from school, some don’t. Some businesses are closed, some aren’t. Some think little of this day and some think quite a bit. The historian in me sees this day as a good example of how the winners of wars get to write the history of those wars. The mother in me remembers a very labor-filled day 9 years ago. That year Columbus Day was October 12th. It was a hopeful day for me.
This year Columbus Day is the 8th and is hopeful for different reasons. Those reasons reflect where I am in my life journey. And I’m no less hopeful today. Read more…
Summer in the northern hemisphere, more so than its counterpart winter, begs for cold treats. And while gallons of ice cream get consumed all year long, it is summer that makes me crave the stuff. There was a time that ice cream grew hoary frost in my freezer every time. Now only half the containers do. It seems that as my memory of paychecks from Dairy Queen become more hazy, my appetite for ice cream returns.
It helps too that I know lots more ice cream eaters these days. Just this morning I read an author contemplating ice cream for breakfast. Her peers not only gave her the green light of approval but they probably shouted flavor suggestions. It appears most folks like ice cream (or some variety of frozen sweet goodness) these days.
Last week at this time I was at a much higher elevation, both geographically and intellectually. Not to go all whoo-whoo on you, but I’ve long believed that people and events come into our lives at precisely the right moments. Sometimes those intersections look way more like crap floating down the river of our lives than butterflies in our meadows, but those intersections between people, events, and places are usually more than they originally appear.
On my way back through one of the nation’s high places, I stopped for lunch in Frisco, Colorado. And while I was unable to find a fully gluten-free lunch, I did manage to find food, more coffee, and this little thing. I’ve decided it makes a fine talisman.
After all, who doesn’t need to be reminded to be fearless?
I spent the weekend at a retreat for teens that focused on The Hunger Games and the role of YA (young adult) dystopian texts in our current world. And while it was a bit exhausting to prepare for it, it was exhilarating to be at it. As anyone who likes working with teens will tell you, teens are filled with the kind of energy that when around a collective body of them, you can’t help but absorb some of it. If they were modern pop-culture vampires, we’d all get contact sparkles from them.
My resume reads like I am precisely the sort of person who likes working with teens. All but one job I’ve had since turning 19 has involved working with teens. And like most of my peers, I do not work with teens because of some need to revisit my own teen experiences and years. In fact, nothing could be farther from the truth.
I work with teens because they give me hope.
A few weeks ago a friend of mine read a short story I was getting ready for submission. She said she was surprised that it wasn’t a comedy and her words made me pause for a moment. But she’s correct. I don’t write funny even though I call myself a comedian. Or it might be more truthful to say I don’t write funny very much.
I started out blogging the funny – searching for the humor in my life as a stay-at-home mom to three small children. It was how I coped with all the varied frustrations of my life. I looked for the funny and then shared it in hopes of making other folks laugh with me, as if having a whole group of folks shaking their heads at my kids’ antics would somehow get me through those moments with more grace.