What's Your Style-Genre?

In my last post, I talked about the definition/parameters of YA literature.  Now I'd like to consider the whole style-genre question.  (And forgive me if that is a lame term—I just can't think of anything else to call it).  

• The Edgy Novel — Kudos to all those who write and enjoy this particular adventure, but it's not for me.  Take, for example, the latest news from Candace Bushnell's camp.  Sex and the City for YA?  Editorial Ass launched a discussion about this one, which yielded some interesting responses among the adults who loved the show.  Most, however, are quite dubious about the potential quality of the YA version.  As for me:  Why is this whole "sex sells" mentality seeping into YA lit in the name of the "edgy" novel? I'm no prude, but frankly, it's less about the sex than it is about the bitchy attitudes and lack of emotional morality (and maturity) that gets me.   Is that what makes a YA edgy?  Drugs, murder, homelessness—I don't have a problem with these in YA per se, but what is their purpose?  Is it just for the shock value and all in the name of edginess?  And is the teen protagonist really a teenager or an angsty adult masquerading as a teen?  Books like Laurie Halse Anderson's Speak or Jay Ashers Thirteen Reasons Why offer the real deal and tackle tough subjects with authentic voice and sensitivity.  They don't glorify the bitch factor.  Okay...off my soap box, now.
• The Commercial Novel — This is a tough one to pin down.  Check out a couple of discussions here  and here.  What do you consider commercial content/style?  I suppose it's a book that brings with it automatic merchandising appeal or mass marketing potential.  But does that mean it may not have longevity as part of the literary canon?  Not necessarily.  Is it all a matter of money?  I hate to sound cynical, but in this economic chaos, why would anyone want to publish a book that won't be a huge commercial success? (Okay, now I'm a little depressed...)  What books to you consider "commercial"?
• The Literary Novel — Is this another one of those, "I can't actually define it, but I know what it is" deals?  Here's an interesting definition courtesy of GreenFrog on the Blueboards: 

  According to my Literary Analysis textbook and professor, "literary" fiction takes a look at human nature and exposes some truth about humanity by the end of it. "Commercial" fiction is written for entertainment value and escapism. Most works fall somewhere between the extreme ends of either classification, but i would say that many of the books in the chic lit, action/adventure, romance and mystery genres tend to be commercial. The works that fall into either camp are often subject to debate. I would claim that Libba Bray's books: "A Great and Terrible Beauty" and "Rebel Angels" are literary pieces. Although they are hugely popular, they have characters that are deep and fully developed, and they have a clear, deep theme. A true literary piece will live the reader with some realization about themselves, about the world and/or about life.

Read more of this discussion on the Blue Boards.  From this I take it that commercial often  skimps on the character development for the sake of a quick and compellingplot.  But is there more to it?  And what about "High Concept"?  

Bottom line:  when you write, what are you actually setting out to do?  After you decide on the story (or it decides on you), how do you view the craft?  Do you pay attention to such external goals as classification or is the thing that drives you the intrinsic momentum of the story itself?

Let's talk about YA—What is it?

     After writing 2 YA novels, you would think I would have the answer to that one. I can’t tell you how many people just think of YA as watered down adult fiction or kid lit that happens to have a teenage protagonist. Of course most of these brainiacs never read a book they didn't have to.

     But as writers, we can't escape the question: What exactly is “YA” literature? Who is its audience? What defines it as “young adult”?

     Now that I’m on my 3rd novel for young adults, you would think I might have the answer. But as I’ve found when it comes to agents and editors, "YA" can mean very different things to different people. Let’s start with the basics: The Young Adult Service Division of the American Library Association defines the age range of an adolescent or young adult as ages 10-19.  

Does that help? Hmmm… Then we have the age breakdown:  

•      Early adolescence (Elementary or Middle School or grades 5, 6, 7)
  
•      Middle adolescence (Junior High or grades 8, 9, 10)
  
•      Later adolescence (High school or grades 11, 12)
  

It’s all clear, right? As lead…

     Now I could get into a history lesson about how adult literature was hijacked for teenagers before we had a legitimate YA classification, or how decades ago a wise librarian set aside a section of the library specifically for young readers or even the various accounts of which author first set out to write specifically for teens.  But I won’t.  Suffice it to quote a little piece from Donna Niday’s ENG 394 class at Iowa State:

Definition of a Young Adult Literature: Literature written for and marketed to young adults. Young adult literature is usually given the birth date of 1968 with the advent of S.E. Hinton's The Outsiders. Other forms of literature prior to this date may have had young adult protagonists (such as Huck Finn), but it was usually intended for an adult audience. Characteristics of a young adult novel usually include several of the following:

(1) a teenage (or young adult) protagonist
(2) first-person perspective
(3) adult characters in the background
(4) a limited number of characters
(5) a compressed time span and familiar setting
(6) current slang
(7) detailed descriptions of appearance and dress
(8) positive resolution
(9) few, if any, subplots
(10) an approximate length of 125 to 250 pages

Check out an Australian's take on the subject here.   Or this one from a Stanford scholar. 

     As a matter of craft, I need a firmer grasp of things. Yeah, I have a story that I simply must tell, but how I tell it is key. So where do I start? Is it the voice the separates the YA from the MG or the adult? Is it length? Is it depth or breadth of ideas? Vocabulary? Sentence structure? Do I have to write in first person? (which I don't do) 

     And what about style-genre (for lack of a better term)? Edgy, Literary, Commercial, etc. How do you classify your work? When it comes to selling your masterpiece…to an editor, agent, or the readers…this is can be an important moniker. How conscious of your style-genre are you? Do you balk at the need to validate your work with a label like “literary” because you don’t want to be presumptuous? When you begin the first draft, is your goal to make it edgy? Is there one right way to do it? It can be a bit overwhelming.  Take a look at this discussion on TheCheers.  We could spend weeks discussing the cultural implications of YA subject matter.  But that's for another time.  

     So, when you are crafting your YA masterpiece, what drives your style the most?  

The Word is Out! (...and so is the book)

Ghost Hunk's book has hit the shelves.  Yes, you can now pick up a copy of The Porning of America by Carmine Sarracino and Kevin Scott at your local bookstore or on Amazon.   To get a look at their thesis, check out our hometown newspaper's interview here.  If you have children, especially young girls, this is a must read.  (Okay...I'm only a little biased here.)

Remembering 9/11

It's almost the same crawl it was 7 years ago.  Sitting here, going about my morning routine, then watching these horrifying events unfold as MSNBC replays the events of that terrifying day.  This time, however, it's like slow motion, a brutal, bone-chilling crawl. You know what's coming.  You know you can't stop it.  All you want to do is pray—as if you could change it.  

Just as in 2001, I cannot tear myself away from the television.  Disbelief as thick as the smoke pouring from the towers and the pentagon.   My brain just cannot unhitch my eyes from the TV. Why?  Why do I want to go through this again?

So I never forget.

At 8:42 am in 2001, I was getting my 4-year-old ready for preschool while my 7-month-old was getting some extra sleep in her crib.  I flipped the TV on for a quick breakfast-time cartoon before Ghost Son and Ghost Hunk took off for their school day.  And there it was.  Something so incomprehensible.  At the moment, it still looked like a freak accident.  But before my men left the house, the second plane hit, and there was no longer any question about how this happened.  But still, this had to be an isolated event, right?  And just as the boys were heading out to the car, the pentagon was hit.  Oh my God...

And while Ghost Hunk was heading off to school after dropping our son at preschool, the first tower fell.  It just disappeared from the skyline.  I cried and prayed.  Unexpectedly, Ghost Hunk came through the door, still stunned and numb, unable to take himself to the university just yet.  When I told him the first tower had fallen, he didn't really understand.  But as I stood in the shower, the bathroom door flew open and there stood GH, his face wet with tears. "It fell down!  It just fell down!  They're both gone!"  He understood, now.

I know history tends to objectify such events, at different rates—by years, decades, or centuries. As each epoch passes, the impact of the incident seems more distant, less personal.  I wonder how long it will take for 9/11 to seem less personal.  And I know it effected more than New York, more than America.  The Western world took this personally.

For all those who have been more closely affected by this tragedy, those who lost loved ones and the precious souls who left us that day, we still pray, we still cry, we still remember... 

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!

"Experience is What You Get When You Didn't Get What You Wanted" ~ Randy Pausch

...And some of us have a lot more experience than others! An amazing man shared these words of wisdom, as many of you may already know. I never met Randy Pausch, but even from a distance, his spirit has touched me.

Given our recent trials, (BTW—Ghost Hunk is safe and sound in GA, now) these words ring in several truths about my own life. But even more, I look back at my more-than-averagely wretched childhood...and believe me, it was...and I believe I wouldn't be who I am today without all that misery. And could some of that be what drives an artist? I mean we all know the stereotype of the tortured painter or anti-social writer. And does that really mean that we have a better understanding of the universe? The more misery the more enlightenment? I don't know.

When it comes to my own work, my characters could certainly use a lot of "experience" or I'd have some pretty boring books on my hands. We know that problems are really what drives a story. Conflict. Challenges. Especially insurmountable challenges. But also a great depth of emotion and deprivation.

It's good to keep this gem in mind as I construct my next YA...and the rest of my life.

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!

OMG—No Do-Overs? The Woman's Mid-life Crisis

So here we are, in our 40's, getting ready to start over again. How did that happen? We all know the stereotype: Man in mid-life crisis ditches his wife for a 20-something blonde bimbo and trades in his family sedan for a completely impractical, fire-engine red, sporty convertible with a mega-engine that announces his manhood 15 blocks before he arrives. (BTW, Ghost Hunk is no stereotype). But how does it work for a woman? I mean do we really think we are that superior that we don't suffer some kind of break down?

I think I have that one covered. It's not that flimsy sense of lost youth that men love to blame for their asinine behavior. No, it's more than a vague sense of our own mortality. It's that brain-numbing, heart-freezing realization that there are no do-overs. That we can't go back ten years and fix things. Those mistakes we hoped would just wash out with the years suddenly start bashing the back of our brains to a pulp and remind us that we can't do it over. We did that bone-head thing, made those wrong choices, and there is no going back. That's what snatches my breath away the instant I think about it. That's what makes my heart suddenly seem so fragile, like I could drop dead any minute and I didn't do it right. Mortality ain't so vague, afterall.

As a mom, my first thought is, "How do I fix it?!" I count all those times I lost my patience with my kids or failed to hear them or gave the wrong advice and wish I could erase it. It's overpowering, this sense of disappointment, of failure. I can see why prozac is such a hot seller in the over-40 group!

But I have to believe that do-overs are irrelevant, because in the end, it's the sum of our experiences, good and bad, that make us who we are. If I did everything right, my kids would be absolutely irretrievable messes! They would never have learned how to handle pain, how to accept imperfection--in others and in themselves. It would be like the Lotus Eaters--so blissfully ignorant that happiness would have no value.

So while my stomach flips 360 degrees and twists itself into a pile of knots whenever I think, "OMG—No Do-overs?!" I have to remember that I'm learning how to be human every day of my life (all the way to the end of it). And I'm teaching my kids how to be human, too.

Perhaps it's not a crisis...but a breakthrough.

LOUS's and the Long Journey Home...Wherever That May Be

Here's the word for now: Columbus, IN is officially out of the offing, Arkansas is officially in, and the other two are still an annoying question mark that could mess a lot of things up for a lot of people. Yikes! In the meantime, we are frantically attacking the mess that is our beloved home, tidying, packing, sending things off to storage. Next week we will contact a real estate agent. Whoa there, stomach!

But I must document our journey out West a little. I've mentioned the LOUS's, Landmarks Of Unusual Size, though I suppose the first one is not technically a Landmark since it's mobile. Imagine my surprise as I'm driving down the Pennsylvania Turnpike, winding through our mountainous terrain, enjoying the ripples of summer foliage, when out of nowhere appears a giant head. Not just any head. EDDIE MURPHY'S HEAD!! Holy Freakin' Cow! No white line fever on this trip. If that doesn't wake you up...
There's something just a little disturbing about that frozen, gap-toothed smile—mustache and all—wending its way through the Pennsylvania landscape in front of us. It was a promo for his latest movie (cough), and the van hauling this tricked-out trailer (Ha! Pun intended...totally!!) was covered in info and images from the movie. It's unforgettable, I'll give them that! Sadly, it doesn't make me want to see the movie any more than the video trailers did.

We dropped the kids in Indiana and then Ghost Hunk and I lit out for the West. Of course, on our way to the Natural State we had to go through St. Louis, MO. Truly a LOUS. I've been to MO before, but never through St. Louis, so it was fun to see this classic landmark up close and personal...okay, from I-70 anyway. And St. Louis definitely looks like a "happenin'" town. Our journey continued on through the Show Me State on to Branson and Springfield where we encountered another LOUS, although my memory is a bit blurred, and this could have cropped up somewhere in Illinois on the way back East. They don't mess around! There were other LOUS's, like the 3-story high farmer in a red-checked shirt, spinning his arms and touting the best pies in three states, or the 15-foot tall family of hamburger-toting campers, circa 1950, perched atop an old mobile home. Quite an interesting trip.

The day after we returned to Indiana and the Ghost Kids, we got the official offer from Arkansas and word that GA would not let us know until July 21st or 22nd. And wouldn't you know, AR wants an answer by July 18th! One job in hand...can't squander that on the indefinite hopes of another. AR is a beautiful place to live. But this job means the end to Ghost Hunk's career as a scholar, which breaks my heart. Now he becomes a Social Worker for Academia. The pay is not good, the retirement plan stinks, and there's no room for advancement and no time to continue scholarly pursuits. But it is a job and the people are wonderful there. It's also in a beautiful part of the country. We'll see if any other questions get answered...

Can a Girl get a Decaf Soy Java Chip Frappaccino in Indiana?

So far, the answer to that one is "no." Yes, it's sad to say that even a Starbucks can't offer that in Columbus, Indiana--holy quacking cow! It's been one of those days, when all the emotion of 9 months comes crashing around my hypoglycemic brain and pushes me to the verge of tears over the dumbest things. It wasn't just the coffee, but it does give me pause about the degree of civilization that we might be diving into.

Of course I know that this little city is civilized, but it has really surprised this farm-grown country girl how citified I've become. Most of me aches for those 5 acres and a barn and my horses again. It always aches for that. But another twisted part of my brain asks, "but what about the bookstore where I can sit for hours with my cup of tea?" "What about being able to pop down the road a tiny piece for a gallon of milk?"

So is this our future home? Or is it Arkansas. Or even Georgia? I have to say that Arkansas seems to offer the best of both worlds, the country and the civilization, and at a decent price. But the job is not the most enticing. We have yet to receive any other offers, so it may be a moot point. But what if Columbus offers a little more money and a slightly better position? or Georgia? Is the living going to be as sweet? What exactly am I hoping for at this point? Yikes!

More questions from the road that need a little more time to play out. Keep those prayers coming--please...

More Notes from the Road...

UPDATE: Early this evening we got our first offer, from Arkansas. We have to turn the other irons in the fire before we make a decision, but at least we have one option right now. Let's see if we have any others.

Well, we have returned to Indiana, a little road weary and a lot confused. Arkansas is beautiful, and the Bentonville area is a wonderful place to live. Unfortunately, the job doesn't pay as much as we would like and it is not exactly what Ghost Hunk was hoping to do.

However, he is interviewing with the school in Indiana on Tuesday (so I guess we're going to extend our little vacation a bit.) Again, it's not ideal, but it's something. Still waiting to hear from Georgia. And still more confused about what to do "if"...

I'm afraid I dropped the ball a little on my WFMAD pledge over the last 2 days, so I'll have to work 45 minutes today. And wouldn't it just figure that I left my laptop at home! I didn't think I'd be ready for the actual drafting before we got back to PA, but I'm itching for it, now. But when it comes to the actual writing of the first draft, I'm a computer slave. Just can't function the same way with a pencil and paper. My fingers can't keep up with my brain unless I have a keyboard under them. Anyone else have that trouble?

Stay tuned for the LOUS's...that will put a smile on your face.

Notes from the Road...

The kids (and the dogs) are safely ensconced with Grandma & Grandpa in Indiana, and we arrived in Arkansas just after dinner time. It's been quite a trip so far--beautiful scenery and LOUS's (I'll explain this in another post). But can you believe, as we are driving somewhere through Illinois (or maybe Missouri), we check the messages on the home answering machine.

Ghost Hunk got another call for an interview at a college in Indiana. Yes, you read that right. INDIANA

I'm heartbroken to be leaving the East, but I wasn't really hoping to end up in Indiana. Yes, our family is there. (In my case, 'nuff said) :-) And Ghost Hunk would love to be closer to his parents, so would I. But I had started to get used to the idea of the Big Move. Okay, nothing is decided yet, and there is a lot left to be discovered about each of the jobs. Tomorrow GH has his interview here in Arkansas. The interview in Indiana will probably be on Thursday. And still no word from GA, other than no final decision has been made...but any day now.

WFMAD Update:

I have managed to keep up with my writing on the road. And...I have a plot!!!! Finally, I've figured out where to go with this one. Ghost Hunk is great for that, too. He helps me bounce ideas around and come up with a direction. Yep...Love that hunk!

More later...

On the Road...

Yes, we are striking out to find our fortune. Okay, maybe not quite that dramatic, but with the crazy poverty-driven elements of our latest job search, we have decided to drive out to AR and maybe GA (fingers crossed). We'll be stopping off in Indiana to leave the kiddos with Ghost Grandma & Grandpa while Ghost Hunk and I head out to Arkansas for his interview. Some of you may have heard that they called him out, but at the last minute said they couldn't pay for his flight. Neither can we!

The town is supposed to be one of the best places to live in the US, though the job isn't all that GH was looking for. But it could be a good job. So why should a college's lack of funds and our poverty line keep him from potentially getting real work in this economy? So we're hitting the road. We may also get a call from GA, and with any luck, it will be a good call.

It all works out because I get to see the place and evaluate housing potential, schools, etc. AND the kids get to see their grandparents, who haven't seen them in almost a year and a half.

Will Ghost Girl be writing on this trip? You bet cha! I'm living up to Laurie Halse Anderson's WFMAD challenge. So far, I've started mapping out the main characters and some of the plot. Yikes! The Plot! That's another post. Are you WFMAD-ing?

Wish us luck in the Midwest and South East! (And pray really hard...)

The Creative Correlative

As my sanity wanders dangerously close to the abyss, my creative urges start gurgling and swishing in all directions (and unfortunately nowhere in the vicinity of my next novel). My bones ache to create something, and in this case, something useful and fun. My neighbor, a dear young friend, is having a baby shower this weekend. It will be her first little bundle of ecstasy, so I really wanted to do something special. But let's start with the end of the process...the card.

Today, we have a brief oasis before the scorching 90's return tomorrow, so I spent most of the afternoon outside—eating, reading, drawing, PAINTING. Yes, it's been years, and I mean years, since I got the watercolors out for my own enjoyment. So today I decided to paint a card to go along with the gift I made for little baby Neighbor. And Ghost Daughter has been inside far too much, so I roped her into bringing her new paints out on the patio, too. And voila! Her work of art. She painted it for her brother, his "welcome home from Boy Scout Camp" gift. (ouch...missing him again...)

While she splattered sky all around and grew a watercolor flower and a happy camper, I sprouted a jungle. Now remember, it's been years since I did anything like this, so I'm a little wobbly with the brush...and the pencil. But, I wanted to carry over some of the fun of the gift I made for baby neighbor. Yes, the theme is a baby jungle. No particular reason. I just know that my friend is doing the nursery in yellow and green and they don't want to know the baby's sex until he/she is born. So off to the fabric store for something baby, but unisex. A Jungle! Why not? I found these cute fabrics and they just seemed to fit. And with the final approval of Ghost Children, the theme for a brand new baby quilt was born (sorry about that pathetic pun!)

So, since my writing impulse has been stunted by all this waiting and worry, my creative flow had to find another pipeline, and that would be the quilt. Little baby monkeys, elephants, giraffes, lions, and hippos all peeking through the jungle foliage. How fun! So, in a week or so, I had made a pin-wheel quilt, complete with hand-sewn binding. (Let's hope it doesn't unravel and become a baby hazard...hand-stitching is definitely not my talent!) I love putting these together, though. I've done quilts for both my kids, and they still use them. So far, they haven't come apart...after 8 years, too!  Cards are always hard for me. I tend to like the funny ones (Farside and other twisted humor) or the clever ones. But this time, I really wanted something that drew the color and brightness from the quilt, so I made my own. And, as part of the gift, I'm also including the board book Goodnight, Gorilla. I don't know what the jungle swallowed me up on this one, but I hope it's not too much for my neighbor. There is still a lot of baby here and whether it's a boy or girl, every little schpunt loves jungle babies...right?

Yes, there is a high correlation between creativity and sanity. At least between my creativity and my sanity! When I get stuck in the worry bog, I simply have to find a way to make something new so I spend less time racing through that doomsday scenario over and over again. Ah...creativity therapy.

HOMESICKNESS

We've got it bad in our house. In so many ways. First, Ghost Son is away at camp for the week, the first time he's been on his own for more than a night. We shipped him off Sunday morning with a footlocker full of necessities, including a can full of Slim Jims and a cell phone. He called twice the first day, full of excitement and eager to start working on those merit badges. He sounded so happy and ready for his week away. Sure, we could hear a little homesickness in his voice, and he owned up to it, but said he knew he could handle it.

Last night...no phone call. (Poor Ghost Girl) We figured he was having too much fun and that's just fine.

Today, he called after lunch. There it was. That crack in his voice. That shadow of disillusionment behind the words he chose to describe his experience. Our boy isn't shy about admitting his feelings, and he fessed up to his homesickness right away, but he was handling it, and he wasn't going to cry or carry on. The reason he didn't call last night: Thunder storms moved through the area and knocked out the power. He didn't realize that he could still use his cell phone!

The news for today: he lost his wallet already and was put in a swim class with younger kids, which makes him feel like a loser. But he's still trying to be positive. And at least he is sharing a tent with one of his best buddies.

But here's the killing kind of homesickness: last night, he told his buddy that we might be moving. It was a tough moment, and they handled it like men. They made a pact to visit and stay in touch, no matter what happens. This kicked me hard in the guts. I hate that our little guy has to worry. Worry about where home will be. I hate that he's had to know about it this so long. To be dragged through the anxiety that we have been swimming in for the last 8 months. No 11-year-old should have to feel that. But we had to tell him what was going on back then because so many changes were already set in motion.

This will all pass soon. We know it. But there is going to be a lot of adjustment no matter what the final outcome is. Any day now, we should have an answer. Any day...

There are a lot of positives on the horizon, but even positives mean change and adjustment. I'm ready to find our home, wherever that may be--Georgia, Philly, Arkansas... Just tell us where home is. Soon...

OOOO! The Ax Has Been Stayed Just a bit Longer!

Yes, it's true. I got an email yesterday--and it wasn't a rejection! It was a congratulations-on-making-it-to-the-final-round-and-could-you-please-do-some-revisions email! This little gem concerns my very first novel, which inspired the name of this blog (the title of the book will be revealed later). The editor's comments were dead-on, and I really hope she'll give me a chance to work on it with her. I've done the revisions already and just have to clean up that nasty synopsis (bane of my existence!).

As for book #2--still waiting. In the meantime, I've sent it in for the Rutgers One-on-One Plus scholarship. Hey, gotta keep getting it out there, right? Something is going to break soon. It's got to!

4:45 pm--Update! I just sent the revisions and synopsis off to BTP. Back to holding my breath. Man! I'm getting dizzy...