Generation Exhausted

Diving in

1728 words. Not bad for the first hour and a bit. Which means I can now reward myself with blogging.

I tend to clean sporadically, and today it was the kitchen windowsill's turn. Things tend to gather there - it's where we keep the jug full of utensils that don't fit in the drawer, and the spare keys, and a few candles, and the teapot. Other bits and pieces get tossed up there too, so every once in a while, it needs a purging.

Came across a little bottle of lock de-icer, left over from the last winter I had the Sunbird. 2002? 2001? Who knows. I bought it AFTER being frozen out of my car one time, and ever since, whenever I've seen it, I've thought to myself, better not get rid of that, might need it.

Except now we have keyless entry. And I wondered aloud if keyless entry meant that I wouldn't need lock de-icer EVER again.

And then, my mind wandering the way it does, I wondered if the advent of keyless entry meant that a lot of people don't need lock de-icer anymore.

And I wondered what this might mean for the lock de-icer industry. I mean, are legions of people now unemployed because the demand for lock de-icer has decreased dramatically in the last five years? Did some old guy, maybe three years away from retirement and a full pension get laid off because no one is buying lock de-icer anymore?

And are my tax dollars being used for some retraining program for displaced lock de-icer industry workers?

And speaking of my tax dollars, maybe I should go and sort through that pile of paper in the dining room and make sure my receipts are sorted so that I won't dread doing my taxes in February?

And did I decide to clean the windowsill because I knew - just KNEW - that it was the one place in the house where I wouldn't be reminded of how totally unprepared I am - in November - to do my taxes? In February?

And does the fact that my mind tends to run in circles like that mean I have too much to do, or not enough to keep me busy?

But at least the windowsill is clean.

Apparently, she will

Just call me what-the-heck-is-she-thinking? I have the barest hint of a plot, a main character, and a setting. Now, let's see if I can parlay that into 50k words, shall we?

Will she or won't she?

There are 80 minutes until the beginning of Nano 2004 and I have not yet decided whether or not I'm going to give it a go. Last year I decided at the last minute, wrote 50,027 words in 30 days, and have not looked at the finished manuscript since November 30.

I'm waiting for THE IDEA to strike. THE IDEA that will inspire me to type 50,000 words.

I thought I had THE IDEA yesterday, and last week, but both times, THE IDEA has vanished, so they must not have been very good ideas.

76 minutes.

Geesh.

You can't read that!

Tomorrow is the Annual Read-A-Thon up at the school, and in the spirit of Halloween, the children are to dress as a literary character. Or something from a movie, if they can't think of a literary character.

Middle daughter is going as a devil. Or rather, The Devil, you know, the one from the Most Read Book Ever? We're assuming that he too had horns and a pitchfork and a shiny red dress.

Little daughter is a black cat. Not sure what book that's in. Probably many.

Sigh. We do what we can.

I am going as Maid Marian, from Robin Hood.

Why am I going? Well, you see, one of the Read-A-Thon things they do is to have guests in to read. Local celebrities, authors, etc.

So, while I am admittedly NOT a celebrity like some folk, and NOT available on Amazon, like other folk, I am still, nonetheless, an author, and somewhat of a local person of note.

Besides, I volunteered.

I'll be reading to the older kids, Grades Six, Seven and Eight. I've chosen some selections from the "challenged" books listed on the ALA's Web site. We'll be reading, and talking, about banning books. They're at an age where they can really start to think about what they're reading, and why they're reading it, so it seemed like a good idea.

I've promised the principal that I won't pick anything that isn't in the school library. But it's a pretty decent library.

Just for fun, I ran down that list with my teen this morning. A lot of the books on the list are actually on her shelf, and I knew that, but I was surprised to realize that she's actually read about 75 of the 100 books listed. I think that's amazing.

Oh, and she confirmed it - she's read Forever, by Judy Blume. I really didn't need to know that.

So hopefully, our school is a fairly reasonable one, and I won't get any angry letters later about what I read on the day of the Read-A-Thon.

Pretty in Pink

I have decided that Ann Douglas is my new favourite person.

Meeting Ann was great, and she even bought me lunch...er, brunch. I was, of course, all cool and laid back, but when I got home I jumped up and down and said, "A bestselling author bought me brunch! Canada's Parenting Guru bought me brunch!" Best omelette I ever tasted. Plus, let's face it - until book sales go through the roof, I'm not likely to get the chance to dine at the Radisson, overlooking the Detroit River, very often.

Speaking of book sales, Ann bought mine - what are you waiting for?

Anyway, as Ann alludes in her blog, I was, indeed, pretty in pink. Or in pink, anyway. Not sure about the "pretty" part. So why have I, queen of black and gray and navy, started this little experimentation with clothes and accessories lately?

Well, for starters, I spent nine years as a Girl Guide leader, and now have a mental aversion to navy. Seriously - show me navy, or navy and white pinstripes, and I have to fight the urge to run screaming from the room.

But deeper than that are two things that two different wonderful women once told me. The first is that we all must go through ALL the phases of maturity. If you attempt to skip or fast forward through a phase, you are ultimately doomed to experience it anyway.

In my case, it was my teen years. Through no one else's fault but my own, I rushed my teen time. I was in a hurry to grow up, and instead of enjoying being 14, I looked ahead to 18, and 21, and, dare I say it, 30? I quit high school, got married and had a baby at 18, and essentially, denied myself the opportunity to fully experience being a teenager.

I repeat - this is no one's fault but my own. Others may have the decision made for them, but in my case - all me.

So now, at the ripe old age of 33, (GOOD GOD, 33? WHEN DID THAT HAPPEN?), I find myself playing around with clothes and makeup and fashion experiments as though I were 15. I also date my husband, 'cause I skipped that part too. (and that's all the details you're going to get on that one, because really, do you WANT to hear about the games we play? Of course you don't.)

So, within the borders provided by kids and responsibility, etc. I'm enjoying being a kid myself. This means little pink handbags and insanely expensive shampoo, and notebooks with psychedelic patterns on them.

The other thing I was told is that clothes and shoes and hair should be fun. And why not? It's harmless. Hence the pink leather-look jacket, the the pink-striped handbag, and other goodies I have stashed in my drawers. Like scarves. I've been practicing wearing scarves as accessories, and may eventually leave the house with one, who knows? And I have to get a new pair of fuzzy gloves for the coming winter. I had some last year, they were about nine different colours all mixed in, and I got actually got compliments from strangers on my gloves. (True story. "WHERE did you get those GLOVES? They are SO darling!")

And a hat. Maybe a hat. But I think I want to be the type of person that CAN wear a hat, rather than actually wear a hat, you know?

Time Out

Yep, three days since my last blog. Yep, it's get-the-freakin'-thing-to-the-printer week. Yep, it's also the week of the Parenting Forum, the School Construction Meeting, and the Go-Be-A-Local-Author-And-Read-To-The-School Day.

Yep.

We also have to pick out pumpkins. I'm hoping that the children know what they're going to be for Halloween, and how they're going to go about being it, since I've barely thought about it. I have a sneaking suspicion that sometime Sunday morning, they're going to wake me up and say "Ok, I want to be a starfish, can you make it happen? Like, now?"

And so, in the midst of all that is chaotic and insane here on the homefront, I'm going to do the most irresponsible thing - I'm going to lunch.

Lunch with Ann!

How could I not? After all, it's not every day a girl gets to hang with The Mother Of All Authors. Ann and I first "met" online, and recently she's been an incredible source of support and mentoring for me. I'm really looking forward to meeting her for real.

Oh, and my van window is broken again. Let's just say it's been The Mother of All Weekends, and I deserve an hour off, okay?

It's official

I'm old. Over the hill. Ancient, even.

I was browsing through my teen's yearbook last week. There, among the pages of high school teams and clubs and classes was a page titled "Whose Tattoos?"

The page featured several photos of tattooed body parts. The idea was to see if you could identify the student by the tattoo.

Geez.

It's all my fault

Called the teen on her cell phone today at lunch time. I was still reliving the meeting from hell last night, and feeling a bit frazzled, and a wee bit bored. I figured if she was in the school, her phone would be off, (which is the rule) and she wouldn't answer.

Besides, I'm not allowed to call my mother at work anymore when I'm bored.

So she answered, and said she was just finishing lunch. And we chatted for, oh, ten seconds, and then she said, "Uh oh. The Vice Principal wants to take my phone away."

Uh oh.

So I hear some background. "But Miss, it's my mom. Really."

Then, "The Vice Principal wants to talk to you."

Uh oh.

So I talked to the Vice Principal, and begged her not to get my kid in trouble, and said I was just calling to remind her of her French tutoring session after school. (which was also true, but not the WHOLE truth) And the VP said ok, and that the phone was going to be turned off and put away, right?

So the teen gets back on, and I remind her of her French tutoring session, and the kid thinks I'm the coolest. Mother. ever. for covering her butt.

And after school, I lecture her about leaving her phone on inside the school in the first place.

Who put "them" in charge?

Was listening to the radio phone-ins earlier this week, and the topic was Halloween -specifically, the fact that, this year, Halloween falls on a Sunday.

The controversy crops up however often the calendar places October 31 on Sunday. I think this is about the third time, in my memory, that it's been an issue.

So the radio host announces the topic something along the lines of: "This year, Halloween falls on a Sunday. There are those who think that, because of the "demonic" nature of the holiday, it is inappropriate to observe it on the Sabbath. Is Halloween too "devilish" to have it on a Sunday? Should we cancel Halloween this year? Let's go to the phones."

And then the type of people that call radio shows called in, and voiced their opinion. For an hour.

Ed. note: When I say "the type of people that call radio shows" I must include myself. I used to love calling in, and sometimes, when I'm listening, absolutely itch to call in, and the only reason I don't anymore is because I think it would be detrimental to my local career to do so. Same reason I don't write letters to the editor anymore. Besides, I have a blog, and if you have a blog, who needs to call a radio show?

Here's the thing - if Halloween offends your sensibilities, don't observe it. If Halloween on a Sunday offends your sensibilities, don't observe it. There is, to my knowledge, no law that says you must string fake cobwebs across the front of your house and dole out candy on October 31. There is, to my knowledge, no law that says you must dress your children up as little ghosts and goblins, and send them begging door-to-door for treats. If you don't want to participate, don't.

Setting aside the fact that the origins of Halloween really don't have anything to do with devil worship...

What, exactly, gives people the idea that they can make that decision for the rest of us? Who are "they" and how, exactly, would "they" go about cancelling Halloween? We live in a country that celebrates its cultural diversity, and its right to individual beliefs. There are some who will never observe Halloween, just as there are those who will never observe Christmas, or Hannukkah, or Kwaanza.

You don't see the Holiday Police going door to door on December 25 to make sure that everyone has a Christmas tree and is sitting down to a turkey dinner. Nor would it ever occur to anyone to say, (out loud, at least) "You know, December 25 is on a Wednesday this year, and that doesn't really work for me. Let's have everyone move Christmas to the 27th this year, so we get the long weekend." (although there are those who will attempt this with Canada Day)

So I'm pretty sure that if your porch light is off, and your children are at Bible Study on the 31st, no one will hold it against you. Just don't hold it against your neighbour if their light is on, and their kids are begging up and down the block. Do your thing, let them do theirs, and let it go.

With submarines that don't float and helicopters that don't fly, you'd think this country would have more important things to debate than "cancelling" Halloween.

The Process

With three children in the public school system, it's inevitable that at any given time during the school year, one of them is going to be bringing home work that involves "the writing process". Year after year (after year after year), my girls have shown me how a story evolves from idea to finished product. This is important -they're graded on their process work as well as their finished story.

Sometimes, the process they learn involves webs. At various other times, it has involved graphs, charts, wheels, pyramids, and just about every other kind of process diagram you could possibly imagine. Step one, step two, step three - they've got the "process" down to an art up there at the school.

So far, we've gotten all the way to Grade Ten, and not one of them has learned about the real process. The process I go through a gajillion times a year, but which, inevitably, leads to a saleable piece of writing.

My process goes something like this:

1. Toss and turn for nights on end as a single thought takes root in your brain. You know it's an idea - you recognize them by now. You've been here before. But what - WHAT - are you going to turn it into?

2. It's time to get the idea out of your head and onto the page, before you die from lack of sleep, and/or your husband threatens to make you sleep on the couch. Drink a pot of coffee, then open Word. Stare at the blank document for five minutes. Close Word. Check email, surf the 'Net. Open Word again. Close Word again.

3. Drink another pot of coffee, then open Word again. Name and save your file, even though it's blank. Close Word. Open Word again. Type an opening line. Delete your opening line. Type another opening line. Delete it before you get to the end of the sentence. Repeat the type/delete process at least five times. Close Word.

4. Call all your friends and tell them about this great essay you're going to write. Decline invitations for coffee, explaining that you're working on something and don't want to interrupt the creative flow. Hang up the phone and check your email again. Open Word.

5. Sit down and write the damn thing. Type 1000 words, then stop and wonder where you go from here. Save your file and close Word. Make more phone calls, send more emails. Open Word again.

6. Declare the piece finished. Time to send it out!

That's the process. Usually, it works, sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly. It is, by turns, a process that is inspiring, frustrating and exhausting.

But it works.

I hit a "double" today. Editor called - they're taking my pitch for a feature, and buying one of my essays. I'm already halfway to my 2005 "extra" income goal, and have surpassed my 2004 goal. Plus, I'm coming off a few less than stellar experiences, so I needed the boost. And it's a market I love to work with, so it's all good.

And I'm on about Step 5 of the above process with another piece. So maybe Mondays ain't so bad after all.