My apologies for the stagnate blog of late.  (Especially for freezing things on a rant.)  After almost 6 weeks, I think I may actually have things back on track.  

Chaos—yes, you have to love it.  Afterall, it inspired some of the greatest innovations, like PB & J and the travel mug!  The car is fixed (the damage didn't read as well on film as it did in person) after almost $2,000,

the move complete,

and the retreat a fond memory (a brilliant one actually, thanks to an amazing faculty!).  

So just in time for summer vacation (cue the pitter-patter-slap of large, bare feet on the tile), I dive again into my WIP. My goal with this one is to pay close attention to character development as well as the plot.  Sandy Asher's session on "Who's story is this?" was awesome, even though I missed most of it because I was running down chairs and power chords, etc.  Management duties aside, the handouts and the info she shared will give any writer a great place to start dissecting character and really understand who is telling (and populating) your story.

So look for a post on character coming up.  I've had plenty of inspiration lately...

My Chaos Theory

Caution:  the following post may lead to ridiculous conclusions or utter confusion.  Read at your own peril.

There are a number of reasons why I have neglected this blog lately, but suffice it to say I am embracing the chaos once again.  I nailed down another revision in January and continue to wait (not quite so patiently) for the next step.  In the meantime, everything around me has exploded into a flurry of systematic change and if this doesn't kill me, nothing will...

Seriously, when you think about the idea of chaos, do you draw a positive or negative connotation?  Apparently I tend to balance both.  For the second year in a row, the major aspects of my life are colliding on one sad little weekend, and the run-up to that weekend could net one of an infinite number of possibilities.  Okay, let's talk specifics.  We are moving.  Not across 5 states this time, just 8 miles away.  But it's still a move.  And wouldn't the fates decide to cut this thread right on the same weekend I am directing the SCBWI Pocono Mountain Retreat?  To top it off, I was really hoping to have an exciting announcement this year, but again, the fates are toying with me.  No book deal.  Yet.

So here I am packing dishes and books and clothes and all those little bits of life I dared to unpack for the  12 months we rented this house.  In the middle of the paper and boxes, I am tapping away online, juggling all those little details like menu, last minute registrations, emails, nametags, etc...  Whew!  Have I reached utter chaos yet?  Well, if there is any doubt:  We close on the new house April 5th, I leave for PA on April 7th and stay until the 11th, and we have to be out of the rental by the 12th.  No pressure...

What about my writing?  Well, I did manage to knock out a synopsis for the new book and send off my application for the SCBWI WIP grant, which will be announced in September (yes, more waiting).    

Forgive me for rambling.  I can't help but wonder what Chaos Theory would posit about the next change.  Can I get my head screwed back on and write a kick-ass YA book?  Where would this book be if we had never left PA?  Or if we moved in December instead of now?  Or if all I did was write?

If this writer's life isn't a dynamic system, then I don't know what is.  What would a recurrence plot have to say about this particular moment in time?  Or my ever-changing trajectory?  I just hope I don't write any recurrent plots and spin my trajectory straight down the drain!

I guess it's just time to add this amazing experience to the million little fluffs and flutters that have led me here in the first place.  My writing is the best it's ever been, and I hope it keeps evolving.  Perhaps all this multi-tasking and change will spawn something brilliant, maybe even award-winning.  But I have to say, I've hit one of those moments when I feel incredibly insecure.  Change doesn't frighten me.  In fact I generally welcome it as an exciting adventure.  But the past two years certainly pass for more than just change...more like the BIG BANG!

So how do other writers handle the chaos behind them?  Does it fuel their writing?  Does it choke them with writer's block?  Does it bounce off them like rubber bullets?  For now, I think I'll just pray for a pair of wings...

I Break for Birds

One benefit to our recent relocation is I have a better bird-watching perch. I find that when I need to think, I tend look out the window, often at nothing at all. I'm not sure why, but it just feels good. But I must say, it's definitely better to have a little natural drama to zone out to. At the old house, we had a bird feeder to watch, but it was in a flower bid in our front yard, outside the living room—not particularly conducive to taking pictures or journaling. Too much traffic to make the little tweeters comfortable enough to stay awhile. What I really need is a sanctuary so I can let my brain relax and wander through my character sketches and plots with a little bit of nature to inspire me.

So now, I have a chair on the back patio always waiting for me. I settle down into my cheap Walmart camp chair with Ghost Hunk's Nikon with the extra cool lenses...and wait...and think...and prewrite. Eventually, I'll have a little birding journal, but for now I guess I'll just play the voyeur. To the birds, only! My little oasis helps me clear my head and focus my thoughts so I can write. I don't know how it works, but it does. Love those birds!

How Hairy Was Your Move?

Well, almost everything that could go wrong did, but not everything.  Let's start with the movers.  They said they would arrive either Wednesday or Thursday, assuring us that they almost always get there on the first of the two days they promise.  They arrived at 9:15 pm Thursday night!  Thank heavens for my awesome neighbor who gave us a couple of beds so the kids could sleep while we packed the truck all night.  Ghost Hunk stayed at the house all night and I caught a few winks at the neighbors as well.  

The walk-through took place as scheduled at 9:00 am Friday.  We still weren't done loading the truck.  And the buyers' real estate agent pitched a fit and refused to turn over the funds until we were completely out.  I was raised in real estate, and I've never seen an agent act like that!

The Moving truck that arrived was not the one we expected.  It was half the size!  So...We had to leave stuff behind.  Again, friends and neighbors came to the rescue.  However, what got left behind?  1.  My writing desk.  2.  My chair.  3.  My work table.  4. My elliptical trainer.  

Did we have gorgeous weather for travel?  Well, we left in sunshine, but halfway through Virginia, the rain came...and came...and came...all the way to Georgia.  Two days of it.  And of course, all the stuff in our car-top carriers got soaked.  So much for the waterproof claims!

One of the best things that happened with the move, however, was absolutely perfect.  Ghost Daughter and I spent Friday night with a dear writing friend.  Joyce Moyer Hostetter put us up for the night, and it was great to catch up and share our latest WIP info and life stories.  Even the dogs felt at home at the Hostetter house.  It was lovely!

And now, we are in GA with Ghost Hunk (ah...at last!) and getting ready for another wild weekend.  Yep, we have to move again.  This time into are "real" house, which will be wonderful.  The kids have held up so well and I am in awe of their strength.  

And my family is all together.  At least until Thursday when I board a plane back to PA for the SCBWI Eastern PA Pocono Mountain Retreat!  

Ah...life!

On the Move...

I don't know how I actually thought I would be blogging this month, but with the house finally sold, I've been useless the last 2 weeks. The truck is coming tomorrow and I will lose all contact with my beloved cyberworld for a few days...maybe even a week.  shudder   So hang on, dear friends.  I'll be back online ASAP.  In the meantime...it's good to be with Ghost Hunk once again. 

When Did I Quit My Day Job?

There is a literal answer to that:  When I had my daughter.  However...somewhere in the back of my brain, I've always held on to the notion that I am a teacher.  I love teaching, and it is one thing that I was destined to do.  But is it truly the only thing?  I'm also a writer and in the last few years, I have begun to evolve and find my identity as a YA writer.  Does that mean that I am no longer a teacher?

I was forced to answer that question the other day as Ghost Hunk and I were cleaning out the attic in preparation for the big move.  Like all gifted teachers (that's a joke), I am a maniacal pack-rat.  I have boxes and boxes of curriculum that I designed for gifted kids, AP classes, and academic courses.  I've held on to it all since I quit teaching high school in 2000.  Why?  Because it's me, part of who I am.  It's like all of my writing...I gave birth to it.  I nurtured it, raised it, and sent it to work when the time came.  Now it sits enshrined in its pristine file boxes from OfficeMax in the corners of my attic.  Will I ever have a use for it?  Do I really need to drag it all the way to Georgia?

So here I am again at that nagging question, "Am I a teacher anymore?" Perhaps the more appropriate question is, "Is that mountain of old curriculum necessary to validate one career or even me as a person?"  Of course the answer is "no." I will always be a teacher, even if I never set foot in the classroom again.  But even before I dragged that first yowling sophomore through the pages of LORD OF THE FLIES, I was a writer.  A writer and a passionate reader.  And that is what I remain.    

I guess I walked away from my day job back in 2000, but I quit it yesterday.  Yes, I'm letting it all go.  I really should construct a funeral pyre and send off those piles of brilliance (again, I'm joking) to their just rewards with pomp and ceremony.  But a dumpster will have to do the job for now.  (Don't want the fire marshall throwing me in jail just before the big move!)  

But I will also celebrate.  Waking the dead and celebrating life as a writer.  I am a writer.

A Quick Note and an Amen

While I'm in the midst of furious packing (and I chose that adjective carefully), I'll take a minute to direct you to Nathan Bransford's latest blog and say a hearty "AMEN".  And my next post will address some of his oh so à propos points about the writer's life.  

But for now, carry on...

Ghosts of What Should Be

What a strange mix of joy and longing. The last two weeks have brought a variety of news, good and bad. The great news, of course, is that I have a wonderful agent. More good news came last week when I went to parent/teacher conferences. Yes, folks, they are a good thing. And particularly sweet this time around. My dear dyspraxic daughter is doing brilliantly, thanks to a truly gifted teacher. I'm so very proud of Ghost Daughter. She has worked hard to stay focused and get into the groove of public school. And what's more, I think I have another ravenous reader in the making. And Ghost Son is knocking it out of the park as always. He is just such a neat kid. Little miracles, both of them.

I'm not sure if this is good or bad news, but the editor who has had my manuscript for the past year finally decided to pass on it. There goes that fantasy! But my awesome agent is so positive and has such great insight into my book, that she really has me pumped to move on to the next opportunity. I'm revising, and thrilled with what's happening. I know there will still be things to do when I'm done. Editors will always find something to fix, and that's okay. My babies ain't perfect! But I'm really excited about the possibilities.

The toughest things seem to have come crashing around me over the last few days. Thursday night, the wind is howling and along about 5:30, the dark outside is already falling. I'm watching the news while dinner simmers and I'm expecting something. That insatiable anticipation of the normal. That any minute, Ghost Hunk is going to walk through the door and tell me about his day. Except that Ghost Hunk is still in Georgia. It just can't be real. I ache for him. Just to sit next to him and babble on about my great news, and not-so-great news. I won't get all maudlin, now, but something has got to happen soon. Somebody buy this damn house so we can get on with it!

To top it all off, we get a phone call from the mega corporation that was sort of courting Ghost Hunk as he debated leaving academia for the big money. They strung him along and then went silent for months. Now all of a sudden they are interested in talking to him. What the hell is that?! That job would keep us in PA...and pay twice what he's making at the university. But is it really what he wants? Is he ready to leave his career for that? Holy crap! We're just trying get used to the idea of living in GA, struggling to deal with the rapidly collapsing economy and praying for our house to sell so we can get life started again.

Somebody up there is having a good laugh. What a tease! At least I know that my book will BE. That my little ghost family will be together...eventually. That Ghost Hunk will choose the right job (if there is a choice to be made).

For now, I think I just need a margarita (salt please)...

Call me paranoid, but...

Yes, I actually called the cops last night, terrified that I would either find one on my front step or at the other end of the phone informing me that Ghost Hunk had been mugged or totaled his car or something.  Why? you may ask.  Because I called and called all day and could not raise the man on the phone!  Not even to say goodnight to the kids!  If any of you know Ghost Hunk, you may think that he's just being the absent-minded professor as usual.  True, he is every bit that stereotype (except that he's really cool, too!  A very low geek factor).  But it was a Sunday.  And he never misses saying goodnight to the kids.  And he's 5 states away!  I had no one to call to say, "hey, have you seen my hubby today?"

I'm not the nervous type...well not in that way.  But I've got a basement drain that's plugged and two kids who are really riding the sunless train to depression as we wait to sell this house and join GH.  Not to mention...I gotta write!  Somewhere between the vacuuming, lawn mowing, house dusting, meal making and kid wrangling, I have to find the energy, time, and motivation to sink my teeth into my WIP.  

Hurry up and wait is the mantra of my powerless life, right now.  AAAGGHHH!  Yeah, ghost kids, I know exactly where you are.  I've finally got myself into a rhythm and took a little time to work on my writing.  But worrying about Ghost Hunk just fired up that creative, let-me-think-of-a-million-tragedies part of my brain.  Get a grip, Ghost Girl!  

Well, as it turns out, Ghost Hunk was home all day.  With 9 "missed calls" and 3 voice mail messages on display, you would think his cell phone actually had a purpose other than creating and uncomfortable lump in his back pocket!  Apparently, he had flipped off the ringer and forgot.  I new I would be proven a bonehead after I called the cops, but when I haven't spoken to the man since Saturday night, and it's past bed time on Sunday night and he hasn't called to say goodnight to ghost kids...can you blame me?

All right, St. Joseph.  Do your work.  Get this house sold so we can be one, whole family again...

My Southern Wish List*

First, let's begin with All the News from HolyCrap Creek:

Athens, GA— Police arrested a woman who they said mooned motorists after she received a ticket for jay-walking. The 23-year-old and a friend had both been drinking and were disorderly, according to Athens-Clarke police. An officer noted in his report that the woman did stay within the crosswalks while shaking her butttocks. The arrest was for misdemeanor public indecency.

~USA Today, September 2, 2008

Yep, this is our new territory. Gotta love it! Of course there was a time when many counties in the South were dry...even in the 1980's. At least if you can stay in the lines, you can skip the extra jay-walking ticket!

Ghost Hunk left for Georgia again this morning and we are all in a funk. We took the kids to school together, though Ghost Daughter insisted that she'd rather ride the bus. However, the rare opportunity to introduce her daddy to her awesome 1st-grade teacher quelled her frustrations. Ghost son had to fight back tears. I think his teacher thought he (the teacher) was in trouble...the look on his face when he saw both Ghost Girl and Ghost Hunk coming down the hall, probably looking a little stressed ourselves, said "Holy Crap! I see trouble!" Poor guy. We just wanted him to know that Ghost Son wouldn't be himself for a couple of days.

Now for the wish list. As I was daydreaming about finally making the inevitable move and joining Ghost Hunk, I realized that there are a whole lot of details that most certainly have escaped my vast reservoir of knowledge about the world because, let's face it, my world is apparently flat and it ends at the Mason/Dixon line. So here are a few things I need:

• A good book about gardening in the Southern States—an absolute must since I like to grow things outside, especially veggies and low-maintenance flowers. (I kill most indoor plants...we won't even go there!)

• A good book about the wildlife in Georgia. (As we discovered at the PA Renaissance Faire this weekend, Anoles shall hereafter be referred to as "baby dragons").

• A guide to trees in Georgia. (other than peach and pecan, of course!)

• And even though I would love to maintain the fantasy that bugs don't live in the South, I should probably be aware of whatever creepy-crawlies wend their way through the subterranean mecca that will be our crawl-space. All advice appreciated.

• Cook books all about Southern Cooking.

• Any information about absolutely essential amenities that I should demand when looking for a new home in the South.

• Any other indispensable knowledge/advice that a Yankee absolutely must take Down Yonder. 
  

And for all my new friends in the SCBWI Southern Breeze chapter, I'm looking forward to meeting all of you and taking part in some fabulous events.

For now...back to cleaning and packing...cleaning and packing...trying to write...cleaning and packing...

Give me the Funny Farm!

Please!!! Give me the funny farm! How many of us writers dream about the scenario that Chevy Chase laid out so well in his hilarious movie? Well, at least the successful writer part. That film came on one of the networks the other day and I just had to laugh. Of course, it's the wife who ends up the successful book writer, while dear hubby learns to stick to what he writes best—a sports column. Here I am, hoping to make a smooth transition to a new house in a new state and daydreaming about that fabulous house with the perfect little writing space for me and lots of space outside. Of course mine would include a horse barn and a few acres to ride on. How likely is that? Sadly enough, not very.

But where we are headed offers a lot more of one or the other for our money—land or house. I doubt we can get both. I am hopeful, however that there is at least one extra room for me to claim as my own, after years of having a little station amidst the plastic clutter of my children's playroom. One could argue that being surrounded by toys and kids would be inspirational for a writer of children's books. But an army Fisher Price Little People™ amputees (thanks to Whitman the Wonder Pup), the raging refrain of "Mama, will you play with me?" and the head-banging strains of Guitar Hero™ tend to take the bloom off my literary rose a bit at times.

Give me a room with a row of windows on one wall and a line of bookshelves all around the rest. A door, a real door that I can close! A little shelf for Ruthie. Give me a barn where I can think up the next bestseller while I muck out stalls, saddle up my horse, and run the paces. Ahhh...give me the Funny Farm!

RATS!!!

As Chuck would say..."Rats!" And I couldn't believe it, but that's what my realtor said at 8:30 this morning. Yes, there has been some interest in our house already, (YAY!) but one couple got a little freaked out by "the rat in the basement," as they so coldly put it. Their agent included a smiley in the email to my realtor, but still...

Come on folks! She's adorable! She's in a cage! She has pink litter!

Well, we had another showing tonight and we've decided to throw a blanket over her cage for future showings. Poor disparaged girl. But...they people who came through tonight are interested. No offer yet, but they're thinking. We have another showing tomorrow.

Sorry Ruthie. If it's any consolation, the blanket over your cage was the blankie my grandma made for me 30-some years ago. That's some love!

Always a Wrench in the Works—Hrumph!

Literally...Ghost Hunk set out for GA yesterday with a buddy, and they got no farther than VA. The car started overheating. At first they thought it was the luggage rack they had added to the top of this fabulous VW bug (not suited well for towing or car carriers). I'm glad our dear friend Marc is with him on this journey. He called this morning to say it could be the thermostat or the head gasket! Big difference! Why does there always have to be a wrench in the works? There is no cash for this situation. Once again, we'll have to rely on a friend and it's wearing us both down.

This kids are dealing with things all right. Ghost Son is awesome...constantly reminding me that he loves me and that he appreciates how hard I am working. (Give that kid some extra squeezes!) He really had a hard time letting go of Daddy yesterday, but he pulled through. Ghost Daughter exhibits her trepidation differently. She said goodbye as if Ghost Daddy was heading off to the market. But when it came to leaving the house so the realtor could show it or getting her bath later, the little gremlin of grief reared its ornery head. But I was able to help her pull those emotions out and really look at them so she could deal with them a little more effectively.

And this morning, I had two cuddly kids crawl into bed for a good long ghost cuddle. We'll get through this. Another showing scheduled for Thursday...maybe we'll get to GA a little sooner.

Here We Go...!

My heart is in my stomach as I watch Ghost Hunk pack up his clothes and as much of his teaching material as he can fit in his VW Bug (which ain't much, folks!). Ghost Son is really struggling with the whole separation thing. But Daddy has given the man some good jobs to distract him—like helping Mama around the house and keeping things ready for those showings.

Speaking of showings, our house officially went on the market Tuesday afternoon, and we have our first showing tomorrow afternoon. (Whoa, stomach!) I've stripped down the basement so it doesn't look so much like a toy war zone. I still have to touch up paint and scrub down the half bath and clean up the laundry area... My head hurts just thinking about it.

In the meantime, I've status queried my favorite agent possibility. Another reason to hold my breath. I think if I survive the next few months, I can handle almost anything. This kids are going to have a tough time, but I have to say, I am awfully proud of Ghost Daughter. At the dinner table the other night, we were talking about the move and trying to find all the positive stuff. GD wanted to go back to the Waldorf school, but she'll have to start the year at the public school. Bummed at first, she brightly smiled and said, "I'll meet new girls to be my friend in first grade!" And then she thought for a minute and added, "And in Georgia, I'll have a whole bunch of new friends to meet!"

Gotta love that!