Love Thursday

Up at Joshilyn's blog there's a post with Rebecca Flowers who wrote Nice To Come Home To, her first novel. It's about love and, I suppose, the aftermath. I haven't read her book yet, but I intend to.

Anyhooo, for Love Thursday I'm going to talk about something that Rebecca Flowers said on Joshilyn's blog:

Hold out for true love. ‘Cause it’s just too hard to live with someone, under any other circumstance. And because yes, yes, YES!, it exists. It’s not what Lori Gottleib seems to think it is, however. True love is NOT the thing that gets you what you want out of life – a house, a baby, a family, perfect and unerring happiness. True love is the thing that complicates life, that makes it messy. And wonderful. And joyous. And profound. But will it get you what you’ve always wanted? Certainly not. Certainly, certainly not. It’s just like prayer, you know.

I so believe that. How could I not? I met my husband when I was 18 and I KNEW he was the one. Knew it in my marrow. He, unfortunately, didn't realize this. He was very career focused and a dedicated bachelor. But I knew.

We dated only briefly. He lived in Germany, I was in Austria... I moved back to Canada and he moved back to the US. We lost touch. In between I married and had a wonderful son. And got divorced.

My son was about two and a half when I started reading Diana Gabaldon's book, Outlander. Perhaps you've read it? Well I was head over heels in love with Jamie Fraser, her main male character. I stayed up until 3 am reading some mornings...

Suddenly, mid-passage I realized that the reason I loved Jamie Fraser was because he was the literary equivalent of Major Man. I knew I had to find him. I knew I wouldn't be happy until I could either walk through or close that door. I knew he was the one.

So I stalked tracked him down and called him. It started off a little shaky. I called him twice in a week and got the definite "you're crowding me" vibe. Dedicated bachelor, remember? And I'm not exactly subtle.

We emailed for about a year before I called his bluff. Was he scared to see me, did he think that I was a crazy stalker? He called my bluff, saying that I could just as easily come and visit him in the US.

I booked a flight for the long weekend in September 2004. We married in September 2005.

It's been a rough few years, true love doesn't guarantee smooth sailing. Far from it. And we have made things extra difficult for ourselves by having a baby without waiting for his permanent resident card, getting in and out of debt, living in a city that's too expensive... But I can say, without any reservation, that he's still The One. He's still the rudder in my life, the one that can calm me with a touch the same way he used to calm our daughter. It was incredible, when she was still in the womb she'd start kicking and he'd put a hand on her and she'd stop instantly.

He's patient beyond belief. He'd have to be to live with me... I'm a control freak and most of the time he's waiting out some issue I've manufactured. (Where is the plastic thingy for the apple slicer, where the heck is it... it's supposed to be Right Here. Did you touch it? Did you move it? Did you see it? Why can't anything stay where it's supposed to?! Oh, here it is, uh, um, I think I left it there after getting an apple for M earlier. Okay... moving on...)

I think our rough patch is evening out though. We see where the waves are, we know the shallow pools and deep still waters. We know what we need to do to make this work. We can do it together now.

Happy Love Thursday!

Bears!

If this doesn't make you smile... you are dead inside.

Some questions...

I found this over at My Write Hand:

What is your idea of perfect happiness? Just enough on my plate to eat, just enough warmth to go without socks, just enough money to pay the bills, just enough love to fill my house.

What is your greatest fear? Losing my family.

Which historical figure do you most identify with? Sir Winston Churchill.

Which living person do you most admire? My children.

What is the trait you most deplore in yourself? Deceit.

What is the trait you most deplore in others? Deceit.

What is your greatest extravagance? Buying books.

What is your favorite journey? When I'm "leaving on a jet plane".

What do you consider the most overrated virtue? Are you kidding? There are no virtues that have reached the level of overused. They should all be used more!

On what occasion do you lie? When my kids aren't ready for the truth.

What do you dislike most about your appearance? My my face breaks out.

Which living person do you most despise? No one. "Let no man pull you low enough to hate him." -- Martin Luther King Jr.

Which words or phrases do you most overuse? "Like". I hate that word. "and she's all like, I hate that word..."

What is your greatest regret? I don't believe in regrets.

What or who is the greatest love of your life? My husband. For real.

Which talent would you most like to have? Singing!

What is your current state of mind? Scattered.

If you could change one thing about your family, what would it be? That we followed the seven virtues more often.

What do you consider your greatest achievement? Achieving the title of "mommy".

If you were to die and come back as a person or thing, what do you think it would be? An angel.

If you could choose what to come back as, what would it be? Me.

What is your most treasured possession? My health.

What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery? Absence of God.

Where would you like to live? With my family. Wherever that is.

What is your favorite occupation? Mother.

What is your most marked characteristic? My red hair... or my temper that goes with it.

What are the qualities you most like in a man? Honesty.

What are the qualities you most like in a woman? Proverbs 31:10

What do you most value in your friends? Kindness.

Who are your favorite writers? Joshilyn Jackson, Shirley Jump, Jodi Picoult, Maeve Binchy, Diana Gabaldon.

Who is your favorite hero of fiction? Jamie Fraser (by Gabaldon)

Who are your heroes in real life? Our men and women in the military.

What are your favorite names? Mommy and Daddy.

What is it that you most dislike? Noisy eaters.

How would you like to die? With advanced warning.

What is your motto? I can do it.

News Flash: Being a Writer has NEVER Paid Well

I'm not sure I can call this a rant or not, but here are my thoughts on writers and pay.

There are regular writers and there are highly paid writers. The difference between the two is simple: highly paid writers are highly paid somewhere else. They are the Donald Trumps who decide to write, the Madonnas who think "I can do that", the ex-wives of baseball players who have some really specific inside knowledge that no one else on the planet has.

99.999999654% of the rest of us are regular writers. But guess what? We are in great company because in our camp we have the Mark Twains, the Hans Christian Andersons, the Anton Checkovs, the apostles of the Bible.

I know that I should be advocating for More Pay For Writers! And I am. I always will believe that the better the writer, the more she should be paid. But that does not make "writing" a more valuable resource. That makes "good writing" more valuable.

The US Bureau of Labor Stats has something to say on being a writer:

How much does this job pay?

Half of all writers and authors earned between $31,720 and $62,930 a year in 2004. The lowest-paid 10 percent earned less than $23,330. The highest-paid 10 percent earned more than $91,260 a year. Earnings for technical writers were somewhat higher. Half of all editors earned between $33,130 and $58,850 a year in 2004. The lowest-paid 10 percent earned less than $25,780. The highest-paid 10 percent earned more than $80,020 a year.

But the part that got me thinking was this line:

A writer or editor must have a college degree.

And there's the rub. So not true. You do not have to be a college graduate to be a writer. And guess what, the jobs that require a college degree will always pay more.

To top it off:

There will be a lot of competition for writing and editing jobs. This is because so many people want to become writers or editors.

When the internet was born (or when Al Gore created it, whatevah) a whole new publishing world was born. Because basically, putting your words on the internet is publishing them. Suddenly information was published at light year speeds compared to before. It was suddenly possible to have a thought and have it published seconds later.

When Mark Twain had a thought it was a lot longer than that before someone else got to read it!

Back in Twain's days, homes were passed down through generations, people grew gardens, there were no credit cards, you could live on pennies a day. The issue of getting paid well for your writing was moot. You were a writer, that was it, you wrote, you got some money, you kept writing, you got some more money.

Twain worked as a printer's apprentice, a steamboat pilot, a miner and a soldier and married into money. He worked as a journalist but it was not for high pay. In fact being a steamboat pilot was the most lucrative job he ever had. He wrote because it was a job and it paid some bills.

And he's called the writer of the great American novel.

I hear many writers decrying the horrible pay in the publishing industry. And for good reason when you hear things like HarperCollins experimenting with new pay structures that pretty much suck onions for writers.

I hear writers who write for low pay referred to as "bottom feeders" and "hobbyists". These are comments generally come from people who write full-time and complain regularly about low-pay, lack of opportunity and the decline of the industry.

Yep.

Pay isn't rising. Never has. Probably never will. That's why I advise writers to do more than writing, develop yourself. Learn to edit. Write eBooks and market them. Teach others. Learn new writing skills.

Change. Adapt. Evolve. Survive.

Who says I don't believe in evolution?

Take my kids, please.

Major Man just started a new job. He's waiting to hear about another job and rather than sit around the house contemplating the difference between doing a load of whites, of colours or of not giving a crap and throwing it all in together.... he went out a got a between-the-time job.

Strangely enough he found one at the parent company of the company I work for. It's a few steps below what he's acutally qualified to do (since that was 'being a leader' and now he's 'moving boxes around') but he doesn't care because it's SOMETHING.

It's also a job that starts at 3:00 pm and goes to 11:30 pm. Which means I'm all by my lonesome with the kids in the evenings now. No more "can you put the baby in the tub while I clean up?" or "can you read the stories and I'll rock the baby?"

Just me. Kind of like single motherhood again. Fun.

Tonight my mom took the kids for about an hour and a half and at first I was all "yes, take them, please!" but then after I ran to the drug store and picked up the baby's prescription... I kind of missed them. I wanted them back.

Weird.

Dear Family and Friends: This is how you know I love you....

(It's Love Thursday...)

If I feel you're upset and I ask what's wrong - it's because I care.

If I make an assumption it will be that you are doing the best you can with the best intentions, because I care about you.

If I'm upset with something you've said or done, I'll address it right away rather than let it fester inside me. This is because I value our relationship.

If I hear that you said something against me, I won't believe it until I ask you and look into your eyes.

I will apologize if I feel I am wrong because I care. If I don't think I'm wrong I'll still apologize for the situation and for your hurt.

Been singing since Sunday...

Owie.

Posting will return shortly. I've sprained my wrist somehow and typing hurts!!

Market: Best Health Mag

Reader's Digest launches new healthy lifestyle magazine for Canadian women

Best Health puts well-being in the spotlight

TORONTO, March 25 /CNW/ - Reader's Digest Magazines (Canada) Ltd., Canada's most trusted publisher, is proud to announce the launch of Best Health, a healthy lifestyle publication geared to today's savvy Canadian woman. This new magazine, which makes its debut on newsstands across Canada this week, is designed to feel like a day at the spa, not a trip to the
clinic. Best Health is supported by its online counterpart Best Health Mag which offers regularly updated healthy living advice at the touch of a fingertip.

Day Care Cam

I can't watch this from work, but because I'm working from home today, I can watch my daughter having fun at day care:

They are playing at the water table, E has her back to the camera and is wearing a white smock to keep dry. The lady sitting next to her is the teacher in charge of the room.

She's the sweetest little lady, only about four-foot-nuthin' and E quite likes her.

E has so much fun at day care that even though I'm home working today, I didn't keep her at home. She saw her dad getting his jacket on and she ran to her jacket saying "on? on? on?" and then as soon as she got her jacket on she grabbed her stuffie and waved at me, saying "bye!", then proceeded to knock on the door so we'd let her out.

Yeah, day care is horrible for children. I'm such a mean parent for subjecting her to institutionalized day care. And even worse, a 'big box' day care like this one.

It's done horrible things to her like send her home singing and dancing and learning to share. What was I thinking?

/sarcasm

You know, if at some point I did find myself working from home, I think I'd still send my daughter to day care in the mornings. I get a lot of work done and she has FUN!!

News from the crazies...

Ok Demi Moore.

I don't care how nice you look or how healthy you are.

NO LEECHES ARE GOING NEAR MY BELLY BUTTON.

When I'm feeling judgy

Have you ever had a moment when you are just feeling judgy? You know, when you just want to smack someone or your eyes are rolling so far back in your head that if the wind changes they'll stay that way?

Today was one of those days.

We went to the zoo. (Note, brother carrying his sister's coat and sister saying "get me out of this flippin' contraption, there are animals to squeal at!!)

We did have fun, we had a lot of fun. The kids wore themselves out and they both love the zoo now. M was never a zoo kid, but in the last year he's started to love it. E is a total zoo kid because there are Animals! With fur! And they are cute! Her favourite is the warthog, I swear. She goes nuts when she sees him.

It would have been perfect if it weren't for ALL THE OTHER PEOPLE. I don't mind the kids running around, it's just some of those parents. The lady yelling at her son because he wasn't pushing the stroller right ("you just about ran into that lady!") who five minutes later nearly ran over E with her crazy stroller-pushing-while-dragging-kid maneuvers.

I did feel bad for the one mother who was trying to jam her stroller up a hill and thought she was ramming it over a bump, until she realized that the reason it wouldn't go forward was her child's leg was caught against a fence. Yeah, that sucked for her, I did feel bad.

And the people who STOP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD or, in the middle of an exhibit without pulling over to the side. What is with that? You are not the only person in the zoo today.

But the zoo was fun for the kids. It was a bit chilly off and on, about 6 degrees celsius. Even I needed a nap when I came home.

But the judgy feeling was still there.

I was watching a show, one of those reality shows where contestants try to lose weight. (It's called X-Weighted, I tried out for it once, but was rejected because there wasn't enough conflict in my life!) This woman is stressing about going back to work after her maternity leave (which in Canada is one year).

She's crying and saying "I don't know how people do it! I don't want to leave my baby!" Which translates to me as "all you other women must be heartless". Which, let's face it, probably wasn't what she meant.

But my inner judge said "suck it up princess".

Which I find really sad! I find it sad that when I'm in uber-PMS, judgy mode because it means that my capacity to love anything and anyone is compromised. And my capacity to receive love is compromised.

So this is what I do:

I clear my mind and pray, asking that the spirit of strife leave me.

I imagine the person I'm judging is sitting in a room with me and it's just them and me... then I try to imagine the words I'm thinking actually coming out of my mouth. I imagine what their face would look like if they heard those words.

I ask forgiveness in my heart for thinking those things. (There but by the grace of God go I.)

I receive the forgiveness (crucial step!!) and I move on.

It can be hard to stop being judgy. I think I mentioned earlier that I was diagnosed with Premenstrual dysphoric disorder or PMDD a few months ago. I take a daily dose of vitamins. Or, rather, I am supposed to. But sometimes I forget. Luckily I have a job that has the side benefit of just enough stress to remind me each day to take my Happy Pills.

But more than a physical reason, being judgmental (well, I call it judgy because it sounds nicer!) can be a habit. And I don't want it to be MY habit any more. The first step is stopping the words from coming out of my mouth. The second step is stopping them from forming in my brain.

I'm a work in progress.

YES! This IS what it's like!

From Dooce, who just handed in her book to her editor:

Last night I emailed my finished manuscript to my editor in New York, and then I drove downtown, took off all my clothes and ran naked through Temple Square. There was no other appropriate response. Except maybe I should have taped some sparklers to my boobs. [making mental note for future instances of streaking]

I'm not sure what I want to do with the next hour of my life, or even the next ten minutes. I COULD DO ANYTHING. I mean, this whole process started three years ago, and it got really intense a year ago when the deadlines were written in ink on a contract, and since then every single minute of my life has been heavy with the thought of those deadlines. I felt guilty if I took five minutes to read a magazine because I should have been using those five minutes to write my book. I felt like I was walking around with a 500-pound llama sitting on my face, and it hadn't bathed in several weeks.

Yes. A thousand times yes.

New book: Conflict-free Living

I've just started a new book. Conflict-Free Living by Joyce Meyer.

I know, family and friends, brace yourselves...... I am sometimes involved in conflict. But lately I have been calming down. So calm in fact that some of my co-workers have asked what's wrong with me when my righteous indignation doesn't kick in when they expect it to. It's like my own personal overdrive... when things get too tough, I get gritty.

Well, it doesn't work so much for me any more. I feel that I'm called to be peaceful. Shocking, I know.

What I like most about Meyer's book so far is her honesty. Can't have a good Christian self-help book without a hefty dose of honesty. We want to know that the writer knows of what she writes.

Which gets me to thinking... what is my story? What story can I tell? Is it a story of overcoming? Of resuce? Of pain or of joy?

What is your story?

No matter what we think our story is, what matters is what we choose to write right now. Whether or not you are a writer, you are writing your story each day. Every moment is a sentence and a string of them make a paragraph. Every morning a page, every evening the end of a chapter.

What do you choose to write in your book today?

A Free Day

It was a day of freedom today... no children around, no husband.... just me in my house for almost seven hours straight.

So, what did I do?

If you voted "cleaned the house" then you'd be right. I don't know why, but I felt the uncontrollable urge to clean. I even cleaned the fridge, which now looks sad and empty now that all the old food is gone. I am amazed at the old food you can have in your fridge without realizing it. That tub of margarine is really a bunch of week old rice and that neatly folded bag is actually a half block of cheese that I forgot about, hidden behind the mustard.

Jeez, I hope I'm not the only one whose fridge looks like that!

I could have been writing, this I know. I could have gotten several thousand words down. But you know, you can only let a house go so far before you start to despise being in it.

**

Major Man had a Very Important Interview on Friday. This could be a life changing one. This could be The One.

Originally there were 500 applications. They weeded them down to 50 and gave those people aptitude testing. They are waiting on the results, but in the mean time they went through the interview process. There are 14 positions available in the training class and five spare spots. The spares get a guaranteed spot in the next training class. It seems like pretty good odds.

I'd lvoe for him to get it. Love, love, love. And not just because I could gloat and crow about how *I* found the job in the paper and *I* bugged him for a full day saying "have you sent your resume in? This is SO YOU." Because it is simply made for him, it's an awesome job. It's the kind of job he will thrive in.

It's late now, and I need to go read a little bit more of Ms Jackson's newest novel!

Love Thursday

There's this Love Thursday thing that I learned from Mir. I've always seemed to miss it, but here I find myself on Thursday with a few minutes to kill before LOST starts and I zone out and let my inner couch potato out for... a sit on her arse.

I'll start off my first Love Thursday with an easy one. I love my kids. And I really love my kids together. I didn't have the greatest relationship with my brother when I was growing up, and it's been a goal of mine to raise my kids to trust and depend on one another. To appreciate each other and look out for each other.

I've told M every day that this is HIS sister. She is his. And when E grows up, I'll be sure to tell her that he is HER brother. They aren't adversaries (yet...), they don't need to compete, they are each unique and I want them to know that about themselves and about each other. But there may come a day when they only have each other. When other family members have fallen away and they are the keepers of each others' memory.

M is very protective of his sister. When she was just a peanut he'd hover around her bath and say "keep a hold of her mommy", "don't let her head go under mommy", or he'd make faces at her and then laugh hysterically when she giggled back at him.

I can remember him cupping his hands and yelling into my belly "Hellloooo baybeeeee!". I can remember him pressing his ear to my belly and E kicking him in the side of the head. I remember being in labour with E and looking up to see M sitting at the foot of my bed, right beside the midwife, watching his sister being born.

This is why I wanted children, to see love grow and grow and become something real that they could put their trust in and know it would be safe.

One more time. Nice and Slow

I'm going to type nice and slow so that the people who don't get it might finally understand.

As writers, we MUST respect the copyright of other writers.

That means:

1) No posting articles anywhere in any forum, online anywhere, photocopied for your whole class to read, or used in any public forum at all. Yes, that even includes Yahoo Groups.


2) Just because the article is helpful and good and inspiring and wonderful... doesn't mean you get to give it away for free without the RIGHT to do so. Only the author has that right. (Oh and by the way, just because you like a picture doesn't give you the right to repost it either... go find a free photo site... see that pic up above? Free photo site.)


3) All those wonderful stories that you forward on, beautiful poems and essays.. they were actually written by someone. Take the time to either ensure that you have the RIGHT to forward it on or that the author has allowed it to be forwarded at will by people who can't come up with something that briliant. Oh and pegging "anonymous" on the end does not absolve you of the responsibility of respecting another writer's copyright. I can forgive Uncle Larry and Sister Sue and Papa Fred for forwarding something on... they aren't writers. It's like if you hear of someone forging cheques... how much WORSE is it if that person also works at a bank? (Now, forwarding jokes is another matter... see below... but you have to ask yourself, is this a funny essay that someone deserves payment for, or is this a joke. Here's the test: can you memorize it and retell it at the water cooler? No? Then it's an essay.)


4) Learn the proper definition of PUBLIC DOMAIN. It does not mean "out there in the world". It means "Material that is uncopyrighted, whose copyright has expired, or is uncopyrightable" this includes government publications, many jokes. Here's a refresher for you.


5) Know the different between copyright and assigning rights. When you create a work, you always have the copyright, UNLESS you are an employee and creating that work for your employer. If you are not an employee, then the copyright is yours to ASSIGN THE RIGHT TO COPY. That's where we get into first rights, all rights (which isn't giving away your copyright, you've just given them the right to do what they want with the work, but the copyright is still yours... think of it this way: You own the cow, but you've sold all the milk), web rights, archive rights... and while we're at it... that copyright only passes to the purchaser (the publication) when they PAY YOU.


6) Plaigiarism = BAD WRITER. It is defined as taking anything that you didn't write YOURSELF and claiming that you did write it.


Ok. I'm done my rant. I was just set off once again today by seeing yet another writer copy and paste an entire article in an email and send it to a list of writers.

WTH People?!?!

Please Be Patient With This Space

I'm on deadline and Freaking The Heck Out.

Half my book is due to my editors on Friday and I'm endlessly fiddling with it because what? You want to see half of my book in the half-written stage? Why don't you just ask to see my underwear? Or in a bathing suit in the middle of winter after not shaving for a month?

Seriously.

In this storm...

For you are who you are. No matter where I am.

The View from the Middle of the Road

Have you ever wondered what is the worst affliction in our society today? Is it the evils of terrorists? The stories in the news of infanticide? Famines and war? There is something I feel is much more pervasive in our lives. It has stained us as we look at the world through its lens.

Indifference and mediocrity.

When you watch the news at night, and see the horrors of the war in Afghanistan, or news of fathers and mothers killing their children, what do you do? You hear it, but it doesn’t really affect you. It is only a factoid from TV; just something that happens in this world. How many years now have certain places taken up residence in the vocabulary of newscasters: Gaza Strip, Jerusalem, Afghanistan, Iraq, Somalia. What have we as individuals actually done? Is there really anything that we can do?

Yes, of course. I don’t think that we can single-handedly stop violence, or the hunger in the world, but we can drop our feelings of indifference, and sense of mediocrity. We can tune in to this world, see that we are all connected and all the same. Since I have become a mother, this has never seemed clearer. I am not disparaging those of you who are not mothers, but ask any mother you know. You simply cannot look at the world without your child in it.

I made the “mistake” one day of watching one of those World Vision shows. Where the producers seem to have chosen the worst case scenarios and made families look as pitiful as possible. When I realized suddenly, that it was simply a picture of a mother holding her baby son, the same size as my (at the time) 3 month old. Except this boy was 18 months old and dying of hunger.

Looking in her eyes, I saw that she knew he son would die and she knew she could not stop it. I looked immediately into the eyes of my own son and desperately tried to imagine what must be going through her mind. She had carried this child within in her for 9 months, feeling his kicks and hiccups. She had laboured for hours giving birth with no drugs. She had held her wet, screaming child to her breast and perhaps nursed him. She saw his first smile and felt his fingers curl around hers. And now she would watch him die slowly. Creep away from her as his frail little body gave out on him.

I could no longer feel indifference. I felt this mother's pain and knew that we were the same. We had the same hopes and dreams for our sons, and hers would not be realized. I could not continue about my petty business for the day until I, too, had mourned for the loss of her son.

What is the cure?

Compassion.

We have lost our compassion in this global community we live in. We watch TV, as though it is only a picture, when, we should be considering each image as a reflection of life. It is one thing to see the effect of war and famine in our world. It is another to smell the acidic smoke from burning buildings or feel the touch of flies on your face from infested water. We need to regain compassion that we have lost. Reach out to the suffering and not assume that others will. Give until we know the pain that they feel. Go out on limbs to rescue the lost. Not fear to let our voice and our single voice alone be heard.

They came for the Communists, and I
didn't object - For I wasn't a Communist;
They came for the Socialists, and I
didn't object - For I wasn't a Socialist;
They came for the labor leaders, and I
didn't object - For I wasn't a labor leader;
They came for the Jews, and I
didn't object - For I wasn't a Jew;
Then they came for me - And there
was no one left to object.

Martin Niemoller, German Protestant
Pastor, 1892-1984

The BIG FLASHING NEON SIGN

Ok God. I get it. I need to shut up. Gotitthanksbye.

Over the weekend I had Minor Meltdown #876.

Bills! Book deadline! Work! Sick baby! Husband/job thing! Indecisiveness!

I couldn't even pinpoint what I was frustrated about. I'd get half-way through a line of criticism and realize I didn't know what I was talking about, or I'd changed my mind. I was trying to make logic out of a yarn of insanity, spit and crazeeee glue.

After Major Man beat a hasty retreat (who wouldn't?) and I calmed down (read: started to feel stupid), I turned to my bible for a little reading. And I picked up a devotional. Then I read a bit in an eNewsletter I get for Christian women. Then I read another devotional-type book.

And I swear on a stack of youknowhats that every single verse I came across said: "Think before you speak. Shut up a lot more." (sic)

Got it. Shutting up more.

There were 4 in the bed and the little one said...

... I have a fever.

Four of us were in the bed last night. It's a good thing it's a King sized bed. After putting the baby and 6yo to bed, I went to have a bath. I came out and the baby's door was open. Hubby had gone in to get her and determined she was too hot, so he left the door open.

Yes, she was too hot. She had a fever.

Cheeks red, nose runny, whole body dry and hot. Yup. Fever. I don't usually take temperatures, I just go with the "radiating heat" method. Is she radiating? Yep.

So I got some water and laid down with her. It took a while, but she went to sleep in the crook of my arm. Then she wanted to lay on top of me, then on her belly on the bed, then in my arm... you get the idea. Eventually she slept. Then hubby came to bed. A little later my son came in... there wasn't much room but he brought his own pillow and blanket and slept at the foot of the bed.

It wasn't a situation that was conducive to mommies and daddies getting much sleep.

At around four it was hubby's turn to rock the baby back to sleep... that lasted a few minutes until she puked on him. Then I took over. Finally she was out. I think she might have slept in until 8 or so. My son was up early saying "it's time to get up now".

Uh, no, it's not...

But he's such a good kid, he just went and played video games in bed while I got a little more sleep.

And since it was Saturday morning... it was my sleep-in day! Major Man got up and took care of the kids and I slept as hard as I could. When I woke up, the baby was already down for her nap. Woot!

Why am I telling you this?

Because I had a plan for today. I was going to forgo the sleep-in and instead sit in my room and write. I had a thing to go to at 1:30 and about 10,000 words to write.

But live intervenes. It always does. And it's important, I think, to do your best to roll with the punches. To know which balls to drop, which to set down, which to keep in the air and which to hold tightly.

Forgiveness

Forgiveness is such a complicated thing when we try to analyze it. We pick it apart like an old wool sweater so we can see just how it's put together. Then we try to make it fit our body, wrapping it around ourselves and trying to re-knit it together.

But it never works that way. It is uncomfortable, lumpy and there are holes that the winds of doubt blow through, chilling you to the bone.

I'm not talking about forgiveness of others - I am talking about forgiveness of self.

In some ways it is easier to forgive others than yourself. You can push something aside and with enough will it seems you can forgive it. But with yourself, it's as though you wear glasses tinged with guilt and you see each action as a reflection on your guilt.

So what is forgiveness? It's not something that you can put on, like that old sweater. It's not something you can feel or hold in your hand.

After spending quite a bit of time praying today, I figured a few things out... or rather, God helped me to figure them out.

1. Forgiveness must be received - it's not just given.

2. It is received in your heart and it must be received - God expects you to receive it.

3. God does not want us wandering around this world without receiving forgiveness. "Come to me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light." (Matthew 11:28)

None of this absolves you from having to face the consequences of any actions here on earth. But it does help to focus you on the eternal rather than the earthly. In many ways it increases the weight of personal responsibility because you know you cannot, should not and will not avoid that personal earthly consequence, but that it does not change your value in the eyes of God.

Resources to be a Busy Writing Mother

Someone remarked recently that she didn't know how I did all the things I do. Let me let you in on a few secrets:

1. I don't know either.
2. I can't stand to be "not busy".
3. I have a wonderful support system to pick up the slack.

I think that #3 is the most important one. I have a husband who will watch the kids if I'm at a political meeting or out at a Pampered Chef show or needing some writing time alone. I have a mother who can be counted on to provide childcare (even if she has to rearrange her day) if I really need it.

Whenever someone asks me how I do what I do or what helps me do it, I am usually stuck for answers. So here's my attempt:

Support Groups: I love my online groups. My top three are The Writing Mother, PWAC and Freelance Success.

Time Savers: Grocery delivery service, Chapters Wish List (so I don't overspend!), Blackberry so I know what I have in my inbox before I get home.

Associations: PWAC, WGA, CAFE. (My favorite resources for professional development.)

Great books: Shirley Jump's How To Publish Your Articles, Terry Whalin's Book Proposals That $ell.

Suicide of Reason in Canada

Another column is up at Pajamas Media. I am quite happy that it's gotten 37 comments so far... and has been quoted on several other blogs!

Freedom of Speech in Canada Under Attack (again)

A publisher I happen to know was recently called to the Canadian Human Rights Commission to answer for his actions to publish something that someone found offensive. There are three videos available of his testimony. I’d suggest watching them in order though the first and third are particularly impressive.

http://tinyurl.com/3b6fgg

While I hope not to offend anyone… the fact remains that as North Americans we have the absolute right to publish our opinions in print and online and NOT be questioned by our governments. It’s perfectly legal for me to say “All blue eyed people are inherently dumb.” It’s not ok to incite someone to inflict violence on another. “Kill all blue eyed people.” But the latest thing to do – at least in Canada – is to complain to the HRC and cause the person you don’t like to have to jump through legal hoops at their expense. If you listen to the first video you’ll hear the publishers comments about the Human Rights Commission and how its intent was to be the ones standing up for people who had deeds committed against them (not allowed to rent an apartment because they are Chinese, fired for their religions beliefs…) but it has now become the place where complaints that don’t stand up in a court of law go to be heard.

Because he asked me to...

As if "pitching a tent" doesn't also sound dirty.

Hilarious Essay

In the past two years I've been on almost 20 flights. So I found this essay particularly side-splitting:

A User’s Manual to Seat 21C
By Wayne Curtis
CONGRATULATIONS ON SELECTING SEAT 21C! This manual is intended to familiarize you with the many options available to you.

If you've flown at all, you'll recognize yourself and your fellow travellers.

Note to writers: Analyze this essay. Do you see how it was all tell and no show? Isn't that breaking all the rules? Yes, but it's still so effective because he is pulling out every tiny detail and magnifying it, showing the absurd in the ordinary.

I rose this morning into a new year. A new, fresh, unburdened year. I can hardly remember what it was like to think that 2008 was so far away. Now she is here.

In Calgary it was cold this morning. -15C. I went out to the barn, which is quite a drive, to see my mare. She’s being ridden by a local trainer and she costs every spare penny I have. We are struggling, but I haven’t let her go yet. I don’t know if I can. The trainer calls her “difficult”. She’s only been ridden for 45 days, so there’s still time to find a nugget of talent in her. But she’s difficult. She’s a bit temperamental and she loses focus when she should be working. She isn’t sure that she likes someone else in control. In short – she’s like me in horse form. It’s hard to explain to my husband why I scrimp and save to pay to keep her. If there’s hope for her, there’s hope for me.

This will be my year of hope. Not just professionally but personally as well. I am choosing to be a better person this year. For a little while now I’ve been praying before bed each night, “show me what I am supposed to do, Lord, please help me to stay in your will” and for a long time I’ve just been asking and praying without any sort of answer. But the other night I received an answer. Clear like the blue sky and in a whisper like the wind I heard “make time for me”. That’s what I need to do. My mind is so busy these days, trying to figure out how to make time for writing and working out and getting to bed on time and getting to work on time … it’s all about the time. But I leave out God. I multi-task him by trying to fit him in to nooks and crannies. But He wants more. He wants me to make some time for Him.

So that’s what I’m doing for 2008. I’m making time for God so that he can make something of my time. It’s no longer an option to miss church and it’s no longer an option to not pray at night or in the morning. The first book I open each day will be my bible or devotional.

But even deeper than that… I am turning over the sins of bigotry, racism, hate and judgment to God. I’ve allowed it in my life. I’ve allowed people to make racist jokes in my presence and I haven’t told them to stop. I’ve allowed people to denigrate both women and men in my presence and I will not let it continue. Has anyone read Maya Angelou? There is a quote from one of her books that I always remember:

“I will not sit in a group of black friends and hear racial pejoratives against whites. I will not hear "honky." I will not hear "Jap." I will not hear "kike." I will not hear "greaser." I will not hear "dago." I will not hear it. As soon as I hear it, I say, "Excuse me, I have to leave. Sorry." Or if it's in my home, I say, "You have to leave. I can't have that. That is poison, and I know it is poison, and you're smearing it on me. I will not have it." Now, it's not an easy thing. And one doesn't all of a sudden sort of blossom into somebody who's courageous enough to say that. But you do start little by little. And you sit in a room, and somebody says -- if you're all white, and somebody says, "Well, the niggers -- " You may not have the courage right then, but you say, "Whooh! My goodness! It's already eight o'clock. I have to go," and leave. Little by little, you develop courage. You sit in a room, and somebody says, "Well, you know what the Japs did then, and what they're doing now." Say, "Mm-hmm! I have to go. My goodness! It's already six o'clock." Leave. Continue to build the courage. Sooner or later, you'll be able to say out loud, "Just a minute. I defend that person. I will not have gay bashing, lesbian bashing. Not in my company. I will not do it."

This will be my year of courage. I will be courageous and tell the people I love that I love them. I will be courageous and forgive what I thought was unforgivable. Because there is no joy, no honour, no peace in holding on to anything, waiting to be asked for forgiveness. If you have a moment, I’d love to share a story I read last night.

Matthew 18:23 – 35

"For this reason the kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who wished to settle accounts with his slaves. When he had begun to settle them, one who owed him ten thousand talents was brought to him. But since he did not have the means to repay, his lord commanded him to be sold, along with his wife and children and all that he had, and repayment to be made. So the slave fell to the ground and prostrated himself before him, saying, 'Have patience with me and I will repay you everything.' And the lord of that slave felt compassion and released him and forgave him the debt. But that slave went out and found one of his fellow slaves who owed him a hundred denarii; and he seized him and began to choke him, saying, 'Pay back what you owe.' So his fellow slave fell to the ground and began to plead with him, saying, 'Have patience with me and I will repay you.' But he was unwilling and went and threw him in prison until he should pay back what was owed. "So when his fellow slaves saw what had happened, they were deeply grieved and came and reported to their lord all that had happened. Then summoning him, his lord said to him, 'You wicked slave, I forgave you all that debt because you pleaded with me. ‘Should you not also have had mercy on your fellow slave, in the same way that I had mercy on you?' And his lord, moved with anger, handed him over to the torturers until he should repay all that was owed him. My heavenly Father will also do the same to you, if each of you does not forgive his brother from your heart."

I’m reading Max Lucado’s book, Every Day Deserves A Chance, and hearing this story struck home for me: the forgiven must forgive. So I choose forgiveness for every transgression committed against me, while I ask for forgiveness as well. I have certainly not been innocent and have many times brought everything on myself. But God has forgiven me and I forgive others. This will be my year of forgiveness.

I asked the other writers on Mama Needs A Book Contract to share their one wish and I thought I had shared mine, but this morning when I woke up I knew there was more I should share. So I have shared. I hope there is something you can receive.

God bless your year.

The Baby. She Eats.

My son was not like this. He was an early talker and late walker. He didn't like things being put in his mouth and he didn't have an inclination to put anything in there other than food and maybe his fingers and toes.

But this one? This girl baby? She eats everything.

We were trying to have some coloring time this afternoon. The moment my back was turned she ate the marker. We know better than to give her crayons (very easy to chew) and I guess I thought that the markers would be better... or at least taste worth. But no. They taste just fine thankyouverymuchandcanIhaveanother?

But as a bonus... she does a great job cleaning cheerios off the floor. Who says we need a dog?

The Big Question

M.: Can I have one more chocolate?

Me: No, you can't. It's bed time. Besides, too much chocolate will make you have bad dreams.

M.: But what about Jesus?

Me: ....

M.: But what about Jesus?

Me: What about him?

M.: Didn't you say that he can make bad dreams go away if we pray?

Me: Well. Yes. But, um,... well, just no more chocolate before bed.

M.: But, mommmyyyyy...

Me: Did you just call me butt-mommy? (distraction! distraction!)

Shiver-worthy

Hee hee hee

(It has to be said, my hubby isn't this pathetic...)

It's one of those days...

When a handful of
chocolate chips
might suffice as dinner.

While the children are eating
I turn the TV on for them and then
lay face down on the couch
and wish it were bedtime.

My greatest desire
is to curl up under the bed.

I wish people would stop looking at me
like I'm some kind of adult.
Hello, there's still a kid in here.

And even the chocolate chip cookies
my husband made today
are not making me happy.

Deadlines glare,
threatening to overwhelm me.

Whose life is this?

Who is in charge?

Because surely it ain't me.

Owie, says my pride

I know, pride isn't a great thing to have, I don't think of myself as prideful... but I think I'm used to being around kind people that this stung.

I'm here in Oklahoma City at the moment, covering a big horse show and writing stories that I find and taking the odd picture. They don't need my photos, they just need my writing, which is fine, I like practicing with my camera. Well there is a photographer here who is really good and he was letting me pick his brain a little. He saw me reading my camera's instruction manual and laughed a bit, saying "uh-oh, that's never a good sign."

I said I wasn't really a photographer, I'm just a writer. He checked over my camera, said it was nice, asked me some questions.. more techincal questions that I didn't have answers to.. I felt kind of like an idiot. All I wanted to know was what was a good setting for taking pictures inside. Like a good ISO for the arena we were in, was sort of f-stop.... I was trying not to be too dense and was really trying to understand what he was saying. I don't think he was trying to be mean.

Then I did a dumb thing, I said "do you want to see my pictures?" and I showed him some on my web site. The comments were "sorry, that's so over-exposed I can't really make it out" or "wow, that cat is super-over-exposed" or "you have to connect with the eyes, sorry, that one doesn't have the impact it could". I can't really say I'm devestated... I knew I wasn't an awesome photographer... but I really felt like crying. I didn't expect praise for the photos... but maybe I expected some sort of praise for my efforts... a start... for trying... I think my composition is good, but it's the science I can't get. I don't understand inverse relationships between this setting and that setting and how the color works and the workings of the camera.

It really made me think about how I might approach a new writer. New creatives/writers/photographers are all very similar... they are fragile beings with tender little wings and if you poke too hard at them they will bruise.

I think I'll be taking my photos down from my web site, I can't bear to have them there if real photographers are looking that critically at them. I feel stupid for showing my pictures to him, he must think I'm a real dolt.

But I've wanted to take some photography courses .... but who has the bloody time! I can't do it all and my photography has just been lower on the totem pole, I like it and I enjoy it... but I'm not yet a photographer. It's not as natural to me.

I just wish... I don't know.. he could have been a little kinder. But hey, now I know I have a tendency to overexpose and "blow out my highlights".

Hell Thy Name is Airline Travel

Okay. I've been up since 4:45 am. It's now ... shoot, I don't know what time it is! It's either after ten or after eleven at night.

Last night I booked a taxi for 5:15 am as I had to be at the airport by 6:00 am. It was a no-show. So I had to drive the truck to the airport and leave it there, unlocked, with the keys hidden inside so my husband could pick it up. We have one key for it.

I board my flight. I'm supposed to go Calgary -> Minneapolis -> Oklahoma City. But Calgary weather has other ideas and we sit on the tarmac for two hours waiting for de-icing. But, tis better to de-ice than not de-ice, right?

So I'm still in a good mood because I'm going to make the best of this trip and look on the bright side. I'm choosing happiness, remember?

When we land in Minneapolis, my connecting flight is taking off. Ok. So they bump me to the next flight.. I'm going through Memphis, TN. Cool, I've never been to that airport, or Tennessee for that matter!

Still in a good mood.

In Memphis, things started to go downhill. Drunk guy in the bar fell on me. Irate American started going off on America because he thought "hey, she's Canadian, surely she must hate America." Yeah, if you are going to bash your own army, please make sure you are not talking to someone whose husband is a former US Army Major. You will not win and you will stomp off like the big bawl baby that you are.

I got on the next flight and the one flight attendant was ker-anky. I was sitting with this very nice lady and her sleeping toddler. My seatmate was of Asian descent, but was from New Orleans. Flight attendant comes over and says, "I need to give you some instructions on holding your baby. Can you speak English?"

Dude. I was offended on her behalf. My mouth even dropped open, which attracted the attention of cranky stewardess who I think might have realized that she was rude. Maybe it's just me, growing up in a multi-cultural area, living overseas... your color does not dictate what you speak.

Finally arriving in Oklahoma City to find that for the third time (out of three trips) Northwest Airlines has lost my luggage.

Then I head to pick up my rental agency and they tell me "you are late, we gave away your car." What the heck? So all that entering my flight information and the insinuating that it was so that they would know if my flight was late? What was that? Just for the heck of it? I had a hard time not losing my temper. It was the last straw.

Oh, no... wait, it was paying $600 for a car rental at another company rather that the $200 that I had reserved a car at... yep, that was what broke me. Crying at the airport again. Nice.

Tomorrow is a new day.

Brand new day.

Choosing Happiness

I am watching a program this afternoon about being happy.

Travelling across the country, using surveys to determine the extent of the average Canadian's happiness, Sonja and Jon meet people from all different social-economic levels including a cheery funeral director who loves his work and a disabled single mother who happily spends her free time volunteering. Sonja and Jon find that money and prestige are not a reflection of a person's happiness. In fact, many people who are lower on the social-economic scale rank much higher in terms of happiness than many high-income professionals. Sonja reveals that the life traits adopted by satisfied people are the ones that contribute to a truly happy existence and are lessons that everyone can learn in order to live a more fulfilled life.

They say that 50% of your happiness quotient comes from genetics, 10% from life experiences and 40% from ... ?

Leaving many to think that 40% is choice. Can you imagine? They interivewed one woman who says she wakes up happy every morning. And looking at her, you truly believe that she is happy. She shows us a prime example of the "Duchenne smile". Another woman has used that smile to actually predict the lives of her students. The ones who have that smile are more likely to be married longer, sometimes into the decades, where the others either aren't married or are divorced.

You can find out more at Happy Canadians.

What does this have to do with being a Writing Mother? I'm not always happy. Big surprise there to friends and family ;0).

But starting today I'm going to choose to be happy more. I'm going to say thank you more to my friends rather than complain that no one comes to my parties. I'm going to delete emails that upset me or make me want to react in anger. I'm going to smile and laugh when I am frustrated or tired.

The key is... choosing to be happy isn't about faking it. It's about letting go of anger. Yes, there are deadlines to meet and kids who won't sleep. And there are days I oversleep and rush to work horrible hair. There are piles of laundry and kids who would rather throw spaghetti than eat it.

But there's also the promise of income and children who make the days worthwhile. There are days when I have a wonderful job full of opportunities and hair with it's own personality. We have enough clothes on our back and food in the cupboard.

These are the things I'm going to focus on. These are the choices and opportunities I'm going to seek.

The Sound of Writing

Thank you.

Prayers for Personality Types

I really wish I knew who wrote this because I laughed my BUTT off!!

ISTJ: Lord, help me to relax about insignificant details beginning tomorrow at 11:41.23 a.m. EST.

ISTP: God, help me to consider people's feelings, even if most of them ARE hypersensitive.

ESTP: God, help me to take responsibility for my own actions, even though they're usually NOT my fault.

ESTJ: God, help me to not try to RUN everything. But, if You need some help, just ask.

ISFJ: Lord, help me to be more laid back and help me to do it EXACTLY right.

ISFP: Lord, help me to stand up for my rights (if you don't mind my asking).

ESFP: God, help me to take things more seriously, especially parties and dancing.

ESFJ: God, give me patience, and I mean right NOW.

INFJ: Lord, help me not be a perfectionist. (Did I spell that correctly?)

INFP: God, help me to finish everything I sta

ENFP: God, help me to keep my mind on one th - Look a bird - ing at a time.

ENFJ: God, help me to do only what I can and trust you for the rest. Do you mind putting that in writing?

INTJ: Lord, keep me open to others' ideas, WRONG though they may be.

INTP: Lord, help me be less independent, but let me do it my way.

ENTP: Lord, help me follow established procedures today. On second thought, I'll settle for a few minutes.

ENTJ: Lord, help me slow downandnotrushthroughwhatIdo.

Amen.

My Personal Board of Directors

I have spent a few years sitting and volunteering on boards and committees for various groups. Currently I'm on the executive of one board, a political women's group. It's quite informal and I really enjoy the interaction with other women. I'm on a committee of another and I enjoy it too, though it's quite a bit more work.

It occurred to me tonight that I have a personal board of directors. These are the people I go to with questions and problems and I seek information and feedback from them. I don't always like the feedback I get, and sometimes I know they have an agenda that differs slightly from mine, but I always appreciate that they take the time to "volunteer".

I have Major Man, of course, who carries a lot of weight. He's like the chair of the finance committee... someone smarter than me in certain ways and able to answer the question "can we do this?" The answer is most commonly, we can do anything as long as we can afford it. He's a rock though. 110% in my corner at all times.

Then there's G. She's like the chair of the governance committee. Always ready to give direction if I ask and talk about precedence, procedure and the direction I am headed. Sometimes a conversation feels like an information gathering session, but I don't mind. She's a smart one too. Not much grey in her life, more black and white and she brings a lot of clarity to the table.

And of course J. She's the longest standing member on my board of directors. She's chair of the sponsorship committee, always working on helping me figure out how we're going to do what we want to get done. There are no roadblocks in her view and she helps me to look ahead positively.

M and E play a roll. They are the membership. They are the reason I need that board of directors to ensure I'm a success.

I don't always like what my committee members are telling me, I don't always like what the membership wants me to do. But I am glad for both of them. If they weren't here I would feel as though I were adrift. I mean, what would I DO all day?

I hope you have a personal board of directors. People who volunteer their time for you.

Some great advice...

For you fictionistas.... Diana Peterfreund offers these tidbits in her When Good Advice Goes Bad series:

Intro
1. Don't Use Passive Voice
2. Kill Your Darlings
3. Write the Book of Your Heart
4. Start With Category
5. The Myth of the One-Book Wonder

I am not a fiction writer just yet, though I have these little dreams tucked away in my heart. Maybe one day.

The Strike

I am naturally averse to unions. I am. I dislike big groups of like-minded people who all seem to swim the same way.

This could be because I'm not like anyone else in my family and I like it that way just fine.

So I was distrustful of the Writers Guild of America strike. Surely these writers are making a gazillion dollars already. Surely they aren't squabbling over cents here and there.

But I started to think about why I was opposing it. Does someone who makes more than me deserve to be paid less just because they already have more money? No.

After doing a little research, I realized that these writers aren't rich. They are writers. They are probably paid better than Joe Freelancer, but they are good at their jobs. If you've laughted at a sitcom or cried at a late night drama, it's because of the writers.

And they deserve to be paid for their work. Non-writers don't always understand, afterall, most people don't create something and then expect that thing to continue to pay them. But that's what writers do. They create a script, a plan, an outline, a guide.... and then it's used to create something in a different medium. It moves from paper to real life. So when it moves from real life to the internet, that is a continuation. Someone is using that original piece - words on paper - to make money.

At the moment it's not a lot of money. But it will be. Watch this video to learn about what happened the last time writers reached this crossroad. They didn't stand up and to date they have collectively lost MILLIONS.




Or, we can break it down into numbers:



I support them. I hope you do too.

Mama's Got a Book Contract

Well, after a month of radio silence ... I can finally announce that I've sold my second book (tentatively titled) The Green Stable to Storey.

It was an exciting process. We (meaning my agent and I) started out with a list of six publishers. She sent the proposal to them and we got five responses back in the positive, one in the negative.

From there we pretty much let the dollars fall where they may. We had a dollar figure in mind for an advance and luckily three came around the same. One had a contract clause I didn't like, so we passed on them. That left two...

It's kind of impolite to discuss the specifics. Sort of like saying to your co-worker, "so, how much do you make? Did you negotiate more holidays?" So I apologize for being vague...

But in the end I had a choice to make. One publisher was offering more, but I really had strong feelings of Like towards the other publisher. Plus there were differences in regards to the acquisition fo photos and graphs for the book.

So I chose to go with Storey and I am exceedingly happy!! I feel - down in my toenails even - that I have made the right decision.

If you'd like to be put on a mailing list for The Green Stable, please leave a comment and I'll put ya on the list!

Oh yeah, what's the book about you ask?

It's a horse owner/rider guide to environmental horsekeeping. Everything from how to build a 'green' barn to using enviro-friendly products and practices to being an earthy trail rider.

(Cross-posted at Mama Needs A Book Contract)

Remembering

My son has been learning about Remembrance Day for the past week in school. I know this because he comes home and asks questions about his step-dad, who spent a dozen years in the US Army.

"It's a good thing he didn't die, right?"

"I'm glad he drove a tank because if you get out of a tank you die. So I'm glad he stayed in."

"He won't go back to a war, will he?"

As much as I want my son to know about his step-dad's Army career, as much as I want him to grow up and learn to be thankful... I'm not so sure just teaching kids that "people die in war" is the most important thing.

No, I think its important that we teach them WHY they died. The good, bad and ugly.

Ian Robinson with the Calgary Sun had a very moving tribute in the paper today:

Ahead was the slightly bent figure of a white-haired man in the blue blazer above gray flannels, Legion crest on one side, an array of service medals heavy on the other.

My daughter marched up to him. We adopted her from a Romanian orphanage when she was three.

Ethnically, she's a gypsy -- that's right, loud colours, long skirts, tambourines, fortune-telling, the works -- and we used to try to ensure she knew something of her culture until she sat us down and made us stop, explaining that she was a Canadian now.

But she remembered enough to stride confidently up to the veteran to ask, "Did you fight in the war?" He smiled and allowed as he had.

She stuck out her hand, looking solemn.

"Then I have to thank you," she said.

"I'm a gypsy.

"Do you know what Hitler and the Nazis planned for gypsies? He was going to kill all of us.

"The Jews call what happened to them during the war The Holocaust. Gypsies call it The Devouring, she told him.

"So if you hadn't stopped them, I wouldn't be here.

"Thank you beating them so I could be born and, you know, live and stuff."

Turns out we needn't have worried about Jillian being able to relate to acts of remembrance on Nov. 11.

We need to ensure that we Remember why they died and we need to teach our children.

Goodbye Norman Mailer. You Sucked.

Yes. You heard me. You sucked.

Norman Mailer died today.

I've never made it through a single one of Mailer's poorly written books so I was gritting my teeth as I read the tributes and the emails about losing a "great writer".

And then I stumbled along Roger Kimball's take on the passing of a "legend".

It is in his ideas about sex, especially as he relates them to the rest of life, that Mailer was influential and most destructive. It would be difficult to overstate the crudeness of his position. In 1973, in one of the countless interviews he has given, Mailer was asked for his opinion about legalized abortion. Mailer thought well enough of his answer to reprint it in Pieces and Pontifications (1982):

"I think when a woman goes through an abortion, even legalized abortion, she goes through hell. There’s no use hoping otherwise. For what is she doing? Sometimes she has to be saying to herself, “You’re killing the memory of a beautiful f***.” I don’t think abortion is a great strain when the act was some miserable little screech, or some squeak oozed up through the trapdoor, a little rat which got in, a worm who slithered under the threshold. That sort of abortion costs a woman little more than discomfort. Unless there are medical consequences years later. But if a woman has a great f***, and then has to abort, it embitters her."

Whatever else can be said about this statement, it is the declaration of a moral cretin.

I am disgusted. Goodbye Mr. Mailer. Full Stop.

Is this you? Because it sure is me....

I watched this video today and it really struck home. How easy is it to go through your day moment by moment and assume that you are the only character in your novel.

Yes, we're the main characters in our novels. But we have to remember that each person we meet has their own story. God help me to remember this.

When Your Writing is Controversial

I write for a site that has its fair share of controversial articles. And every once in a while one that I put up is controversial. Like the one I put up today.

My article criticized the Canadian Border Services Agency. (As my husband said... good luck crossing the border later this month ;) lol) It's not like it garnered 100 comments, but it did get at least one comment from a superviser with the CSBA. (probably clicking 'flag this person' at this very moment...)

Basically they haven't been allowed to have guns. Now they are being given guns but it's taking a heck of a long time to get 7200 guards certified. (Not all of them will get guns)

To top it off, there are new recruits being incredibly dumb and posting pictures on Facebook of alcohol consumption in uniform.

Anyways... you can read it if you like.

So what do you do when your writing draws criticism?

1. Analyze the criticism to determine a) who it's coming from and b) if it has merit.

2. Find something in the criticism that you can learn from.

3. Do not take it personally.

The third point is the hardest because many critics take things to a personal level. For example, one critic didn't like my tone (sarcasm) and while on one hand I know that it's just the tone I chose to write in, on the other I feel it's a criticism of me as a writer and the tool I chose.

(I'm not a huge fan of sarcasm... but I use it sometimes...)

The first point is important because everyone one has a bias. A quick Google search determined that one of my commenters was a supervisor at the CSBA. I can understand why he'd take offense to my article.

It was about one viewpoint, one opinion.

It goes without saying that many, many employees at the CSBA are good workers. But the fact is, their employer has faced controversy in the last few years and that's what my article was about. The controversies.

After reading the comments, I digested them and responded. I wasn't offended, really, how can you be offended by an opinion. It's an opinion, not an action or a concrete attack. It's just one person's opinion.

Now if I'm totally flagged at the border now I will really be offended. LOL

Please feel free to comment...

(Cross-posted at Mama Needs A Book Contract)

Sunday Date Night

Thank you NFL.

Yes, that's right, thank you to the National Football League.

Because if you didn't have exciting games to watch at the local pub, my husband and I might never have a date night! LOL

However, I now declare that I'll not name any future children Payton. Because... WTH Payton Manning? Tom Brady did not WIN that game, you LOST it.

Dude.

But I still had fun on date night with hubby. A beer, peanuts, a steak sandwich. That's my kinda date!

Balancing

Act as if it were impossible to fail.
-- Dorothea Brande


A co-worker of mine said recently, "I don't know how you do it all, I can hardly figure out how to be a dad and work full time... but you are a mom, you work full time and you have all these other things going on."


I admit, my plate is a little full. And I do have to stop once and a while and make sure that my full plate does not become too much of a source of pride. Because you know what comes after pride... right?


And I don't really want to drop a full plate.


I think that the reason I take on so much, is that I don't believe I will fail at them. I look at a task and think, "can I do this? do I want to do this?" and if my heart says yes both times, then I take it on.


Periodically, and driven by my own stress level, I reassess and sometimes I scoop a little off that full plate. I did that recently when I stepped down off of a committee that I'd spent two years chairing. It meant a lot to me, but at the same time I recognized that I had to let it go so someone else could do a better job.

Other things came in to fill it's spot... but they were different things, I could do them better or they took less energy or they were a better fit with my family.

I've also started trying to multi-task LESS and I'm finding I get MORE done. It used to be that I tried to juggle everything, including being a mom. But I started to realized that at the end of the day while I was here with my kids, I wasn't here for them. Once I started working full time and my son went back to school, I started seeing them even less. It meant that I wanted the time with them to be about them... not about me on the computer.

So now I spend more time playing, talking and attending. And when they are in bed, I sit down here at the computer and write.

NaNo Here We Come!

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

Contact: Heather Cook
Calgary Municipal Liaison, NaNoWriMo
76, 219 – 90th Ave SE
Calgary, AB T2J 0A3
(403) 815-7266
hlcook@shaw.ca
www.heather-cook.com

50 Calgary Writers Gathering to Kick Off National Novel Writing Month
October 29, 2007 – Calgary, Alberta – A group of brave Calgary writers are gathering at a local Chapters store on November 1, 2007 at 7pm to kick off the National Novel Writing Month. There are some who say writing a novel takes awesome talent, strong language skills, academic training, and years of dedication. Not true. All it really takes is a deadline – a very, very tight deadline – and a whole lot of coffee.
Welcome to National Novel Writing Month: a nonprofit literary crusade that encourages aspiring novelists all over the world to write a 50,000-word novel in a month. At midnight on Nov. 1, more than 100,000 writers from over 70 countries – poised over laptops and pads of paper, fingers itching and minds racing with plots and characters – will begin a furious adventure in fiction. By 11:59 PM on Nov. 30, thousands of them will be novelists.
NaNoWriMo is the largest writing contest in the world. In 2006, over 79,000 people took part in the free challenge. And while the event stresses fun and creative exploration over publication, sixteen NaNoWriMo novelists have had their NaNo-novels published, including Sarah Gruen, author of New York Times #1 Best Seller, Water for Elephants.

"The 50,000-word challenge has a wonderful way of opening up your imagination and unleashing creative potential like nothing else," says NaNoWriMo Director (and eight-time NaNoWriMo winner) Chris Baty. "When you write for quantity instead of quality, you end up getting both. Also, it's a great excuse for not doing any dishes for a month."

For the past eight years, Baty has sent out weekly pep talks to participants in November. This year, he's passing the pep talking torch to established authors, including mystery writer Sue Grafton, master storyteller Tom Robbins, and renowned fantasy writer Neil Gaiman.

Returning for her fourth year as municipal liaison is Heather Cook of Calgary. Proving that if you want to get something done… ask a busy person, Heather works full time and is a freelance writer for several magazines and online sites in North America, she’s writing her second book and she has two children.

The Calgary Kick Off will take place at the Macleod Trail Chapters at Macleod and 94th Ave SE. Start time is 7 pm and a write-off will begin at 8 pm.

For information: www.nanowrimo.org
Media Inquires: contact Heather Cook (403) 815-7266 or hlcook@shaw.ca

###

Rowling and Potter and Doris Lessing

I think my favorite thing about being a writer is having an overwhelming desire to know the backstory of the books I read. That's the part that the writer knows in her head, but doesn't necessarily put on the page. A bit might show up here and there, but for the most part it's all the history before page one.

(And we all know not to put any backstory on page one, right?)

Recently J.K. Rowling revealed that the Harry Potter saga was inspired by Christianity. This is no surprise, really, if she'd said different I would have had to call bull pucky. It's the great battle between good and evil, the forces gather on each side, alliances are formed, there are betrayals, innocent ones die.

And then she announced that Dumbledore was gay. And for some great reason, I was not surprised. It fit just fine the way she'd written it in the book. He's an old, single man and the only real infatuation we read about is with a young man from his past. It fit.

Now you're probably wondering why a Christian like myself is so fond of not only a book that some say promotes witchcraft, but also of a gay character.

I have no good answers for you other than a) I don't think it promotes witchcraft and b) if God wanted me to worry so much about homosexuality, I think he might have listed it in the top ten.

But back to Rowling.

I think the reason that I was not surprised by either is because that's the beauty of well crafted backstory. It's there, but you don't see it, it's woven so faintly into the tapestry like a pale blue thread, that you only pick up on it when held up to another blue cloth. Then you see it there and think "oh yes, of course that fits perfectly".

Now, as an aside. I find it very interesting how different sites reported this.

According to Guardian Unlimited:

'My truthful answer to you...I always thought of Dumbledore as gay.'

Which, despite being reported from the exact same event, differs from how the Associated Press reported it:

"Dumbledore is gay," the author responded to gasps and applause.

Now why is that, do you think? I've seen similar "massaging" of quotes before. Most recently with Doris Lessing's Nobel Prize retort. Some quoted her verbatim while others shortened her words up just enough to make her sound really snotty.

Personally, I think she is just a quiet older woman who is used to being lambasted in public for her views and she was surrounded by cameras and microphones while trying to climb out of a car from a shopping trip. We writers are not known for our improv skills, otherwise we'd be speakers, not writers. Even Churchill, one of the most amazing writers and speakers was first a writer. All those witty retorts? Written and memorized.

Now what do you think of Lessing's reaction?

If you write at work... you're fired

These were the words my boss spoke to me before he hired rehired me this summer. I smirked.

I love NOT writing while I'm at work. I have plenty of things to write about... work-related things. But when I'm at the Regular Job I can be Regular Job Person and I don't have to worry about being Creative Writer Extraordinaire.

Which I'm not.

But doesn't every writer want to be?

So the pressure is off at work. I can be Talks to People Salesperson and What Can I Do For You Today Girl. I can even be Writes A Great Sales Letter Chic.

But at the office I'm not Struggling Writer Who Hates The Blank Page or Person Who Can't Come Up With a Better Word Lady.

I'm just me.

Trust me boss, you have nothing to worry about.

I've been tagged!

My gigglyness (totally a word) at being tagged for a meme can be directly connected to my desire to avoid working on an article that is vexing me tonight. So score one for the readers. Score nada for my writing career.

Thanks Lori. Thanks a LOT. :0)

It's a pretty simple meme... I am to identify five writing strengths.

Clearly avoiding procrastination is not one of them.

1. I can find a theme in almost any situation. I think it's my high 'intuitive' score on my Myers-Briggs test... I see big picture, I see forest. I don't see the individual trees so much.. oh, wait, we're working on my strengths. This means that I am really good at taking a theme, and like a ribbon, weaving in through a story and tying off with a nice bow at the end. And I love finding that ribbon, I love being able to see the bigger picture and presenting it to a reader like a big fancy package.

2. I never miss a deadline. Ok, never is a strong word. I despise missing deadlines with every molecule of my being. I may rub up against a deadline with such urgency that it seriously begins to question my intentions, but I don't often let it slip from my grasp. This is one of the most important ways you can prove to an editor that you are a professional. If you just do this one thing... you'll be ahead of half the writers out there.

3. I do what I say I'm going to do. Related to numero 2, when I have an assignment I do the assignment. I ask my questions up front and I turn in what my editor expects. If there are changes, or if research leads me in a different direction, I keep my editor informed. There are no surprises here.

4. In invest in other writers. How does this make me a better writer? Because by supporting the community at large by teaching and guiding other writers, I learn more about myself as a writer. I've learned about my own procrastination by writing emails to other writers about it. I've learned to query by crafting a query to post to my Writing Mother group. It's sort of a 'know why you believe' theory. As I explain writer to others, my knowledge of it expands.

5. I tell the truth. Well, duh, what the heck does this have to do with being a better writer? I'll tell you. I write with the same dedication to telling the truth whether I'm doing event coverage, explaining a concept, writing about politics or crafting an essay on motherhood. I don't use shock language to make a point or make a story more effective, I trust that the truth and the story are effective when mixed with some elbow grease to take out all the unneccessary parts and to leave all the working parts in tact. I don't spruce up quotes to make a point, I don't insert off color jokes so that someone else might find me funny, I don't take liberties with the stories of others. I'm just the scribe and I'm ultimately telling the story of someone else.

I'm Thankful For...

1. My Father, who hears me.
2. My husband who knows me
3. My son who shows me how to live
4. My daughter who teaches me to smile
5. My parents to whom I owe much
6. My in-laws who gave me my husband
7. My ex-in-laws who have left an enduring mark
8. My ex-husband, who taught me the messy, practical side of forgiveness
9. My friends who inspire me
10. My job, it comes with responsibility and teaches me humility
11. The opportunities I have in life
12. My childhood, as dysfunctional as all childhoods are
13. My agent, the quiet little pitbull
14. My publisher, for continuing to have faith in me
15. Soldiers
16. My country (kind of vague... but I'm thankful I was born here)
17. My writing ability, I'm never going to be done learning how to be better at it
18. My husband's financial acumen
19. The Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms
20. This breath. Right now.

Today's sermon at church was all about being thankful. A thankful heart is the gateway for so many blessings, I hope I can remember to be thankful year round.

It is far too easy to complain about things in life. How easy is it to say "I don't like that, or that, or that..." Instead I choose to be thankful for something every day. No, every hour... every minute.

Chicken Soup for the Working Mom's Soul

I just got my copy of CS for the Working Mom's Soul - my essay appears on page 237. This marks the second time I've been in a Chicken Soup book.

Chicken Soup essays don't pay a huge amount, but they pay enough, in my books. I will often sit down and write some personal essays just for the heck of it. I might turn them in to blog posts or I might hang on to them. Both of my CS essays have come about this way. So when I see a call out, I remember an essay I wrote and I submit it. So far I'm 2 for 2.

I think being a working mom is probably the toughest job in the world. It can be very hard to leave being a mom at home and leave work at work. I'm lucky to have great family support and one wonderful babysitter. Plus, my son is having a much better year at school this year, so I worry far less than I did last year.

But still, there never seems to be enough time in the day to do everything I want to do. Blogging and writing are scheduled in for the 3 pm - to 10 pm time at home. At work I think I'm the most efficient because I have one thing to focus on: my job. Now it seems that when I'm at home, I'm doubly distracted. Supper-homework-diapers-writing-friends-phone calls-after school... it all gets squished in to seven hours in the afternoon evening. Sometimes I feel like I am not doing everything as well as I could.

My daughter is benefitting from more one on one time with her dad. He is with her a lot during the week while I'm at work. He doesn't work at home, which means that he has a lot of time to focus on her. She's thriving! Part of me feels a little guilty, she wasn't as talkative and easy to interact with when I was home because I spent a great deal of time distracting her so I could get some writing done.

That's the gist of my essay in CS for the Working Mom's Soul. How to balance being at home for your kids and being *there* for them too.