All Things Can Tempt Me

All things can tempt me from this craft of verse:
One time it was a woman's face, or worse--
The seeming needs of my fool-driven land;
Now nothing but comes readier to the hand
Than this accustomed toil. When I was young,
I had not given a penny for a song
Did not the poet sing it with such airs
That one believed he had a sword upstairs;
Yet would be now, could I but have my wish,
Colder and dumber and deafer than a fish.

William Butler Yeats, 1910

With all the discussion of procrastination, I just couldn't resist posting a piece from my favorite poet. Though Yeats never had to contend with the allure of the internet or television, nonetheless, he, like most of us, struggled with a host of daily distractions that begged and beckoned, drawing him away from his creative purpose. And don't we just ache for those feeble sirens to call us away when our task is already frustrated? Blogland, chatrooms, email--it's all just a more concrete manifestation of Yeats' desperate breaks with inspiration.

But I have to say that somewhere within that bog of distraction lies the seed of inspiration. Sometimes I just need that kick start, that little phrase innocently uttered online to spark an idea that grows into a paragraph and then a chapter and then the book. No matter how disconnected that idea may seem, the whole sense of connection that I get from my little distractions actually feeds my writing...somehow. Diversion does that crazy dance that misdirects our brain long enough for it to find the answer (or inspiration) in our subconscious. Oh, jeez! Yeats would be proud of me now!

Two for the Road

After some questionable accommodations and service at our fabulous retreat, the time has come to consider other options for next year's venue. I've been busy hunting down potential spots, trying to keep things in the Poconos and keep them intimate and inspiring, and I lit on 2 specific possibilities. What's that you say? Come on up and check it out? You'll hook me up with a room for the night and a tour? Great!

Bummer...my cohort has a big commitment this weekend and can't go with me, and we can't find babysitting so DH and I can go together. I guess I'm on my own. Ah but wait! The film maker. What about him?

Yes, my little Spielberg accompanied me up into the Poconos for a look around, and what a blast! I love having that quiet time with my son, especially when it involves an adventure. Our last big adventure took us to New York City to the movie set of Spiderman 3, where my little guy was an extra in the film. This time we were sampling menus, hiking into the woods, evaluating the size and spring of the beds (always fun with a 10-year-old), and taking in the "sense" of the place, which is absolutely key to the success of this journey.

We found a fabulous place just 20 minutes or so from our former location, and it has everything--facilities, atmosphere, service, good food, free-roaming deer and even a few bears! It may have been more fun having my son there than DH (shhhh!) because he really wanted to see everything and try out all the amenities. Looking and seeing was not sufficient for him. He's all about the whole experience. That something unmatchable about our little jaunts, and Connor said, "Mama, can we do this every year? I mean just have a weekend together, just you and me?"

Yes, my insides rolled up into a big mushy knot and my eyes welled up. Absolutely! Daddy can have Boy Scout Camp and all that, but these little journeys will be for me and my boy. What a tremendous gift this weekend offered. Beautiful weather, a successful search, and priceless mama/son time that still pulls my lips up into a grin every time I think about it.

A BIONICLE STORY -- the Blogspot Premiere

Coming to you from the clickety-clackety streets of Amish Country....The directorial debut of C.M. Scott (aka Manshark) and his film A BIONICLE STORY.



C.M. wrote, directed, starred, photographed, orchestrated,...made this movie almost exclusively by himself. Just a little voice-over help from Daddy, and a few handy-cam scenes that he couldn't film himself (because he had to be the star!). There are over 600 still photos in this 90 seconds of action, each requiring a steady hand and a mountain of patience to manipulate the figures with microscopic precision. He even story-boarded the project before he began filming. All this, just about a month before he turned 10. (You can't tell I'm proud, can you?)

Now at work on his second feature (again, a month before his birthday--11), he hopes to finish this one in time for the school talent show again. He had such a response last year--kids asking for his autograph, a troupe of 6th-grade groupies following him all over the playground (not bad for a 4th-grader!).

Speilberg, Scorcese...look out!

Ahhhh...Retreat!

The scent of pine trees and lake water. The ticka,ticka, ticka of ladybugs scurrying in and out of every room. The hum of passionate writers and illustrators comparing rejection letters, success stories, and manuscripts. The roar of semi-trucks racing up the road outside my window at 3:00am. Ah, the retreat weekend had finally arrived. Unfortunately so had a completely new staff at our favorite Inn, which meant some rough spots in our idyllic jaunt into the mountains. Let's just say, McDonald's could have provided more consistent food and service. (Ouch...I know that's harsh!)

But the faculty was one of the best ever. Our speakers were impeccable, truly inspiring, and the editors were straight-forward and tons of fun. I feel truly blessed to have connected with T.A. Barron who shared such a love for storytelling and for the earth. Beautiful is the only word I can think of to describe this man. He is so at peace with who he is and so passionate about writing. We swapped stories and he shared the brand new cover of his latest book--Wow! I found a real kindred spirit in Mr. Barron, as well as what I hope will be a common editor!

I can't say enough about Jordan Sonnenblick. We had so much fun--although I'm sure he thinks he has a couple of stalkers, between me and Laurie! His story of how he wrote his first book, Drums, Girls, and Dangerous Pie, was awe-inspiring. It will melt your heart...and make you want to thump the man! That's one writer's journey I would like to have. Jordan has the keenest sense of humor. We shared some war stories from the teaching trenches, although now he has quit his teaching job to write full time. I'm sure he is sorely missed. He's my kind of teacher--and writer!

Gene Barretta shared his journey as well, and oh how cool! Be sure to look for the author's photo on the jacketflap of each of his books--you'll be able to watch a little sprout grow...

The editors all had interesting points of view, and many of the workshops were more hands-on this year. Patrick Collins, the art director from Henry Holt gave the most helpful PB dummy construction workshop. Such a talented, unassuming man. Genuinely interested in seeing what other writers and illustrators were doing.

So...now the real work begins--planning for next year. Yep, that's right, folks. I'm in charge of the next retreat, and already I have a handful of possible sites. Sadly, the location where we have rested for the last 16 years just isn't going to cut it. So, I will be building this one from scratch. But I'm excited and I think I'm up to the task.

Hope to have more news, soon. Publishing news that is.

Time to Retreat...

It's that time of year--the Poconos Retreat. Time to breathe in some creative air and soak up some inspiration from my writing pals as we pig out on gourmet food and get back on track with some dead-on editorial guidance. Now that I've been at this for a few years--7 actually--conferences have taken on a very different feel to them. I used to be jumping with nerves and self-doubt, but eagerly devouring every morsel of critical advice and writerly inspiration I could scrape up. I don't know if you would call me a war horse yet, but I feel that I've ridden these trails hard and heavy and at least 100 times by now. Okay, maybe not 100. But in some ways I have arrived as a writer. There is still plenty of new stuff to hear, lots of mistakes to correct, oodles of connections to make, but I think the most satisfying part of this weekend is the camaraderie. That sense that we've all stretched ourselves until we are paper-thin, fought for our babies--our literary progeny--until we can't bear to look at those tatty manuscripts any longer. Of course we know that after a few months in a dark drawer, those pesky little pups will whine until they get our attention again.

But a weekend of editorial panels, workshops, and writers sharing their million war stories on the road to publication somehow revives me. There is a strange affirmation to having your first page shredded by 5 or 6 editors in front of 100 other people, all bleeding from their own wounds. Some on life support. But it reminds me that yes, I am a writer. And yes, I do love it.

Somebody Please Help...

This gorgeous piano needs a home. We may or may not be moving, but we have no space for the stunning piece of history. And we can't afford to store it. The kind people who have been looking after her now need their space back for renovation. I hate to give up this gem, but if anyone out there knows someone who is looking for an antique in exquisite condition, send them my way.

Sad...very sad.

15 Years and Counting--Quite Happily!

Yes, indeed. My man and I have been married 15 years today. It's amazing how fast the years have flown by. They haven't all been full of bliss, but they have been exactly what they should be. We've seen the tough years and the joyful, some met more handily than others, but always with love and respect. I gave my beloved a book of letters, My Dearest Friend, the correspondence between John and Abigail Adams. Amazing--a country struggling to be born, a sometimes crass and arrogant man laboring to bring about the revolution, and a woman of infinite strength holding her man together from afar. Yes, Abigail really was the foothold, here. The first letter in the book is absolutely lovely:

October 4th. 1762

Miss Adorable

By the same Token that the Bearer hereof satt up with you last night I hereby order you to give him, as many Kisses, and as many Hours of your Company after 9 OClock as he shall please to Demand and charge them to my Account: This Order, or Requisition call it which you will is in Consideration of a silimar order Upon Aurelia for the Like Favour, and I presume I have good Right to draw upon you for the Kisses as I have given two or three Millions at least, when one has been recd, and of Consequence the Account between us is immensely in favour of yours.

John Adams

My man gave me exactly what I wanted--tulips. They are my favorite and were our wedding flowers all those years ago. So no matter how frustrated we are feeling about the job situation or waiting and waiting for word on my 2 manuscripts, we know that the foundation of this life is real and solid. And all I can say is, never settle. The right one is so worth the wait.

The Girl Scout Promise

This weekend, my daughter and I embarked on her very first camp-out adventure with her Brownie troop (all 7-year-olds). Don't get me wrong, I love camping, but with my RA, I wasn't sure I would make it through a cold weekend in the woods. Fortunately we had 2 sunny days in the 40's, brooking 50, so it wasn't too bad. And we had a lovely, recently refurbished, heated cabin. Luxury! I was proud of my girl, working hard to help out with the chores and keep up on the hike. She couldn't wait to record some of the sights in her "journal". She drew the tree, the spider, the bear track (more likely a raccoon). It was precious. Of course she was the last one to bed that night. And then the adventure really began...

All the girls are asleep, except Maisie of course, and the troop leader and one of the moms are sitting out on the porch. Suddenly the mom comes in and whispers that she saw a man standing by the latrine (11:00 at night). The GS hosts are called. They call the police. After about an hour of scouring the woods and talking to the witness, the police suggest that we move the girls down to the Host house, which is closer to the road and 3 stories high. Then they utter those words that first struck terror in my guts--"We don't want another Amish School shooting situation..." What?!!!!! Holy crazy cow! One strange guy in the woods I can handle. Creepy, but I can handle it. But dredging up the Nickelmines tragedy--that's too much. That was only 8 miles from my house. And you never truly know fear until you have children.

So, we tell the girls that the heat broke. Of course it made no sense when they found themselves in a musty, freezing alternative a few minutes later! But we got through the night, me with maybe one hour of sleep, Maisie with 4 or 5, and in the morning we dragged ourselves back up to our cabin and through the next day and had a fabulous breakfast and lunch, learned how to make firestarters and tie knots and how to build a fabulous campfire.

So there is the adventure the Brownies never knew they had...and they won't know until they are much older!

A Few More Tidbits...

A few days ago, I wrote about research in its more practical, contemporary clothes. Let me toss out a site here USNO site to look up info on astronomical events. Check out the data services link to find out what time the sun rose on March 3, 1892. Or maybe what phase of the moon hung in the sky. This was a really cool little link to find when I was reaching back to 1850, looking for as much authenticity as possible. But there is a lot of great information for contemporary subjects as well.

Another fabulous site for 19th century resources is a digital library of 19th-Century History, loaded with links to a variety of collections. And there's always the fabulous Making of America site.

Now, where do you get good stuff for your characters? Of course strong powers of observation are essential, but I have a favorite place to research people. No, it's not the local mall or the nearest Starbucks, although both are great places to observe teenagers.

Call me crazy or morbid or just plain psycho, but I love old cemeteries, the older the better. You would be amazed at the stories
you find written on headstones--sometimes in poetry, sometimes in emblems and dates, sometimes just in the name. Some of the more famous cemeteries, like Mount Hope in Rochester, have websites that describe the famous people dwelling in the earth there. So if you're looking for an interesting name, or just a fascinating story, check out an old burial ground.

Is Research Just for Non-fiction Writers and History Buffs?

Unequivocally, No. I know, I know...I've been just too excited about digging through the bones of 19th-century Spiritualism, but even in my contemporary writings, I am constantly looking for answers. The questions are sometimes different, but not always.

First, for any project I have to ask the when and the where. Even if the story takes place right now in my own back yard, I need to explore the setting in detail. If my readers are going to live in it, the setting should be as real and rich as possible, even if all the details don't actually make it to the page. The impression of them should.

What lives there? By that I mean plant life, wildlife, even what kind of people,...what sort of industry moves the town, etc.

I actually took several reading expeditions when I was working on WOS, just looking for what kind of wildflowers actually grow along the Genessee River or even what sort of stove would stand in an 1850 kitchen. Some readers might not notice if I've placed some strange cactus that grows only in the Sahara along the river bank, but one just might. Of course, I hope I never stray that far off the mark. But even in the present-day setting, the little things around the room or in the yard tell us a lot about your characters and their struggles.

Yes, towns have character, too. And your setting should be just that--another character in your story. Give it personality. Give it life. It needs to be more than a "Paper Moon sailing over a cardboard sea..." (to quote an old song and a fabulous movie). The setting has the power to completely alter the reader's perception of your characters, of the problems they face, of the tone of your story. Never underestimate that power of its influence.

Okay, I know I began this little discussion with "first...," but the rest will have to wait for a second installment. In the meantime, enjoy your research. Go out and lie in the grass, smell the air, count the houses, count their windows, notice where the moon rises and exactly how its light paints the trees at 2 o'clock in the morning. Research...

The Epistolary Approach

What ever happened to...the letter? You know...those pieces of paper hand-decorated with the most intimate of thoughts, sometimes the most carefully sculpted deceptions, often dipped in the sincerest of emotion and accented with a splash of sarcasm or a good bit of humor.

Take this little bit, for instance...

But with all this I am a weak man and a fool; weak, that I should be caught in the midst of my grave purposes by the gilded dust of a butterfly's wing.

From a letter written by Elisha Kane to Maggie Fox, c. 1853

Not that everyone needs to fill their letters with poetry and mush, but there is something infinitely more personal to a hand-written note, something so deeply connected. The writing itself is often lovely to behold. With the advent of computers, email, and the effortless keyboard, however, it's a wonder that any of us can remember how to sign our names to the mortgage payment! Aside from beautiful penmanship, there are the other elements of this life that only a letter can bring, bits that simply cannot seep through the computer screen. The feel of the paper in your hands. The scent of the writer--perhaps a little chocolate, or lilac, or something muskier. The sound of the envelope giving way to whatever device you choose to extricate the precious contents from their protector. The marks of its journey--stains and stamps and smudges. A letter gives you the whole sensual experience.

I'm scolding myself as well. About a year ago, I started a pen-pal relationship with a fellow writer who was looking for a pen pal via SCBWI's discussion boards. Absolutely! I love to write letters. Of course when the whole job kerfuffle began, I lost all sense of time and space and pretty much evaporated from the correspondence pool. (Sorry, Christine...hope you got my letter a few weeks ago!)

I have spent most of my life staring wistfully at mailboxes, praying for some little treasure (these days that would include a book contract!) to open and savor with a cup of tea. When I lived in Ireland, I ached for letters from friends and family across the pond, but the crippling can't-write-a-letteritis had already seized a generation and left my poor mail slot empty and unfulfilled. What dejection! The letter carrier whistling as he skipped right past my lonely old letter slot. May as well stuff it full of wool to keep the cold wind out!

It is so rare to find something other than bills or crappy invitations to steal my identity in that precious box standing guard at the end of my driveway. No matter how much I talk about it, however, I still need to do more to perpetuate the art of letter-writing. So...I've got my fountain pen and my stacks of interesting papers, and a proper "thank you" is on its way to a generous friend who loaned me her couch for a few nights...

Murder and Mad Weather--The Road to Rochester

You would never believe that when I left Lancaster County on Thursday afternoon, it was sunny and 50º outside--even up north in Rochester. 24 hours later we were in the middle of a mini blizzard. Of course I was oblivious to the snow storm brewing right outside the Rare Books Collection at the University of Rochester Library. My face was buried in piles of the most fascinating letters and pamphlets from the 1840s and 50s. With the research for my next book really taking off, I have that fever...you know, when your mind won't stop for a second, you can't sleep because you're constantly moving pieces around in your head, trying to figure out the best narrative approach and how much of your research really belongs, blah blah blah... Wow!

Of course the coolest tidbit I found was all about the supposed murder that took place at the Hydesville house in the early 1840's. Oh the details! Very exciting...but you'll have to wait for my book to find out more! Huge thanks to Mary and Rose for chasing down these wonderful documents and making copies for me.

My favorite part of the trip was hanging with my fabulous hostess and brand new YA librarian, Deena, and A2A blog buddy Kate. I felt as though I had known them for years. Kate, I hope your bronchitis is better! We all shared a tasty dinner at The Garlic Pit...MMMMMM! Later we hung out at Kate's house to chat a bit longer, and her kids were all the entertainment we needed. They are awesome! And a huge thanks to Deena for putting me up (or shall I say putting up with me!?) and especially for shoveling out my car.

Tuned in to the Weather Channel on Saturday morning, it looked as though the line of snow extended just south of Rochester--well, it turned out to be 2 hours south. So I decided to make a run for it and see if I could beat the rest of the storm. Two hours of white-knuckling past an endless stream of steel corpses along the median--good little Subaru--and I finally came out the other side of the storm. The next few hours were a mix of rain and dry cloudy skies. I had just crossed into Lancaster Co., PA, 25 minutes from home, so I called Deena to let her know I had survived. No sooner had I hit the "end" button and put the phone down when my car started to shake. Up ahead, a huge tree lay beside the road, stretching its gnarled finger tips across the right lane. Above me, a wall of clouds raced across the sky and I half expected a tornado to reach right down and sweep the highway clean. Once again, the knuckles turned white. A few miles from home, the stop sign was twisting in the wind, greeting everyone with 360º waves. Power lines were swaying wildly, dipping lower and lower with each gust of wind. I couldn't believe it! Maybe its the ghost of the murdered peddler following me home! 45 mph winds!

Whew! Home now with lots of great research and an itch to head back up to Rochester for more.

Three New R's--Road trip for Research in Rochester!

Thanks to a fabulous writing/blog buddy (thanks Miss Recently Repped!), I have a place to stay as I ramp up my research for my next book. Who would have guessed that historical fiction would be my bag? Somehow, falling into the 1850s was just as natural as falling off my horse (well, easier--I've got a pretty good seat!)

While I hold my breath a little longer, waiting for word on my first historical fantasy, now in the most capable of editorial hands, I am finally kicking up the energy to explore my next tale of historical spooks. Maggie Fox made a brief appearance in that worthy tome, so now I'm considering giving her the spotlight for a bit, and it's down to digging up details. I've read a lot about the Fox sisters and looked up maps and information about Rochester and spent a lot of time on WorldCat trying to locate some primary and secondary sources, but I really need to go spend some time there, soak in the city.

Another big thanks to Nancy Rubin Stuart whose fabulous book and generous guidance gave me a little more insight into where to take my next step. I'm still floundering a bit as to exactly where the plot will go and from whence it will begin, but it will come. All it takes is a word or a phrase or some whisper of an idea. Who knows, maybe the ghosts of Kate and Maggie Fox will pay me a visit while I'm there!

The best news is, I'll be writing again!

Joyce Moyer Hostetter's Healing Water

All right, everyone! You have to check this out. Head on over to

Joyce's Blog

and take a look at her contest for her latest, fabulous book! She is an amazing writer and a lovely person. Her historical fiction is rich with authentic detail and genuine emotion. If you haven't read her wonderful

BLUE

yet, check that one out as soon as possible.

Seed Catalogues--Hurray!

Yes, they have started coming. Those lovely seed catalogues full of luscious photographs and wistful desires. I love this time of year when the flower catalogues start jamming my mailbox. Hey, it's better than a boatload of rejection letters! It always makes me a bit wistful for spring and for simple country life--the house full of savory aromas and rich colors. I used to have a large garden in my back yard, back when I still had a little farm. I loved to plant veggies and tend to them through the steamy months of summer. Funny, when these little tomes of graphic beauty arrive, I always start cooking more, too. Those beautiful catalogues just inspire me to cook from scratch and bask in the aroma of comfort food as I anticipate the return of long, light days filled with warmth and birdsong.

I can't help but imagine placing a huge order for all kinds of exotic flowers, things I could never in a million years actually grow because I just don't have that kind of green thumb. So I try to find some lovely phlox or some geraniums and petunias, vinkas, begonias, all the more pedestrian blossoms that make our house look welcoming.

Interestingly, reading through theses catalogues often educates my writing as well. My settings are suddenly populated with the vibrant little heads of native flowers and foliage that build the character of the book. When I started working on my most recent novel, I stopped to research the flora and fauna of the Gennessee River valley. It had to be right.

What simple bits of mail inspire you?

Valentines--oooh, Baby!

My man has always been a sentimental kind of guy, though not always a detail oriented guy. Sure, it took almost 10 years before he actually brought me flowers...well, maybe only 8. But he is that poetic soul who is nothing but committed. His gifts are always thoughtful and usually spot-on in some degree. But he really blew me away last night. Things have been exceptionally tight financially, and emotionally we've each been through a lot with our jobs in the last few months. But we have never been closer (cue the "awwww!") It's true!


In April, we'll celebrate 15 years of marriage, and he's been wanting to do a little something extra. So when he brings me a box of my favorite chocolates--Gertrude Hawk Dark Chocolate Cherry Cordials--and a stunningly romantic card, complete with a Shakespearean sonnet that is so perfect considering our lives right now, I was already snuggled in the warm fuzzies. He's hit a home run, full of love and sentimental stuff that I adore. But it gets better... whoa, does it get better! As luck would have it, a tiny windfall blew his way, and he chose to blow it all on me. (Good husband!). I can't get a decent picture, yet, and jewelry is difficult to photograph anyway, but looky, looky! I know it's hard to see just how stunning this ring is, and I hope to get a better picture of it eventually, but you get the idea.

Now, I'd love describe the rest of the evening, but my YA rating prohibits it!

Love what you hate about your Main Character…

...and we will love him even more. As a writer, I think I would love to create that character who is so much better than I ever was as a kid. You know, the kid who always knows the right thing to do—and does it. He’s confident and clever, never says the wrong thing or hurts anyone’s feelings. Free from prejudice or self-righteous indignation. Never afraid, never stupid...

BORING!!!! No kid can relate to that…or live up to that. The thing that really makes a character work is more than just some quirk, like plucking his eyebrows bald in a nervous fit every time he has an algebra exam, or, to quote a recent top 25 list, chews his lip until he tastes blood. No, let him be FLAWED in some real way. I have to remind myself of that, even now as I think of the characters I’ve already written and already love. It doesn’t have to be a flaw of Shakespearean magnitude, (You can go to bed now, MacBeth…) but somewhere in your book, he should make the reader just a little uncomfortable, squirm in his seat just a bit while trying to defend your dear MC. Of course, this is where you can draw on personal experience, right? The list of bonehead moves in my childhood could just about match the collected works of our dear old master of tragedy, Mr. Bill. But what inside me led to those actions? What in my character made me say such a stupid remark or do such an asinine thing?

Think about the characters you really love—even Harry Potter has his faults. A deeply good heart, noble even, but there’s plenty of self-doubt which is sometimes costly; a nice helping of rashness, though understandably so; even some serious prejudice of his own, though not completely unfounded or even deep-seated.

So what “issues” does your MC have? What are those little things that make you want to kick his butt and send him to his room without supper? If you don’t have any, maybe you should.

Ruthie--Muse, Critter, Companion

Before you think I've really gone round the bend, consider it. A fabulous, affectionate friend who never scolds or annihilates your MC with a dismissive remark, or shatters your plot line with one swift blow of logic. Nope. Ruthie is inspired! Originally a class pet (well we know what happened to that plan!), now she is simply my buddy. Before I got this quaint little rodent, I had no idea how remarkably affectionate and quick-witted rats are. She's smart and sweet and already bonded to to me--and I to her. She loves to play around my feet or explore my desk when I'm working. Although the desk-top expeditions can be a bit dangerous to my files as her dainty little toes can wreak havoc on my keyboard, sending my document into the strangest of convulsions. "Save." Hit "Save" often!

Call her a mascot or a curiosity, I'll always call her my buddy. As odd as it may sound, Ruthie seems to make my little space, surrounded by the playroom mess and loads of youthful distraction, truly my space. She anchors me and encourages me as I plow through the pile of ideas scattered among the flotsam on my desk. Her little nose poking at my sock, her tiny toenails gently tugging at my pants leg, her feathery whiskers tickling my skin as she climbs into my lap and nudges my chin.

I know--it sounds a bit sappy. But it feels so nice to have a little buddy who is just interested in a little cuddle and some good writing! I think everyone should have a personal mascot! A critique critter!

If I were a Tea Kettle, I'd be whistling by now!

Pressure! It's maddening at this point. We are still waiting to hear about a job for DH, fighting depression in the face of true joblessness at any moment. Waiting on the ever interminable submission process to supply an answer, in particular, a big fat "yes, we love it, gotta have it!" How do you keep from chewing your fingertips off at times like this?

On the plus side, I know that my latest manuscript is top-notch and has a really good shot at a contract, if not with the current editor, with another one. It's my best work--period. I feel good about my first novel, too, which is still under consideration, but it is my first and could use a little more work (which I see so much more clearly now that I've had some distance).

The hardest thing is managing the financial worries as well as issues of morale when it comes to my DH's job search. Worrying about more than just a job, his career. This whole thing has been pretty devastating for him, and I'm trying to keep the positive vibes flowing. But it's tough some days. Worrying about what if we have to move...can we sell our house? Will we be in a position to buy in our new city? Will it be a good move for the kids?

I know...more fuel for writing, right? If I could just concentrate. I have research to do so I can spark that plan for the next book, but I just haven't been able to find the focus.

Okay...enough venting. I'll keep drinking in those fantasies about that fabulous book contract and the eventual book signings, with lines out the door...(dream big, I say! Hey...throw in a movie deal, too!). And I'll nibble at a few daydreams about the perfect job for DH, too.

Okay, now I'll blow that steam off the top and breathe...

Random Acts of Kindness

It's a Friday night. My DH is late (not unusual), I have to get going to meet a friend for dinner and a movie. Ah Snap! I'm almost out of gas. So I wheel into my favorite gas station. Duh! It's Friday at rush hour. Yep, every bay is full--except one. So I pull carefully around and position myself to slide into that bay with my gas tank on the correct side. The truck behind me missed something in translation and pulled in from the other side just before I got there. Drat!

Fortunately another bay opened up at the other end of the island and I managed to get there before anyone else. Of course, I cursed under my breath as I slid my debit card through the reader. "Remove Nozzle" comes up on the screen--before the request for my PIN. What's up with that? I push the DEBIT/PAY OUTSIDE button. "PrePaid $25.00" flashes across the screen. HUH?

From behind me, walking from the direction of the cashier/shop, a man comes towards me with his hand out in a conciliatory gesture. "I just wanted to apologize for bumping you out of that bay. I didn't realize you meant to pull in there. So...Sorry." Then he scurried over to his truck. Meanwhile, my little rig is gratefully drinking $25.00 worth of gas, gas that I'm pretty sure is not coming out of my debit account.

I'm dazed and unsure and in a hurry to eat. (I get crazy when I don't eat!). So I hop in my car and drive away, still picking through the details of the little scenario that had just played out at my favorite gas station. Holy Cow! Did that man just buy me $25.00 worth of gas because he misread my parking maneuvers? And at a time when my bank account in is a coma! I'm stunned. Flat out stunned.

You just never know what good can come. Have faith that there are people out there who care about how their actions affect other people, even if it's only a misunderstanding. So I stuff those curses back in my mouth and swallow hard. Now it's my turn to offer a random act of kindness.