Monthly Archives: February 2006

Life Happens

So the reality of life is it happens. It goes on. It doesn’t stop. Unlike the stories we write where we can close the computer and go on about our business and come back where we left them, life keeps going. At least if we’re lucky, it does.
Somehow I’ve been swept into a funk. I don’t let this happen often and when it does, it sucks. I don’t know how to deal with it and alcohol is only a temporary solution plus it gives me a headache.
This funk revolves around life happening, about time management, about how I’m used to being good at what I do and how sudden;y everything sucks.
My writing, sucks.
Motherhood, sucks.
Wife, sucks.
Teaching, sucks.
I’m not used to this. Usually one thing sucks while everything else shines brightly. Or maybe only one thing shines brightly, but something is there. Something to keep me going. The only thing shining brightly these days is my ability to make a rock-your-socks Colorado Bulldog or twelve and drink them.
It’s not a good place. I don’t like it. It’s probably not even real, but it feels like it is.
It’s been building for a long time but suddenly it’s got me flat on my butt (my mother reads this). I keep thinking it’ll pass, but it doesn’t.
I hate it. I want the real me back.
The one who believes in the dream.
I did get nominated for Teacher of the Year, funny when this is the one year I feel like a failure, but it was something.
I’m reworking the requested Intrigue because the editor pretty much told me my story once I started and I know she’ll be bored to tears with what I’ve got now, but in the back of my mind I’m thinking to myself: WHY? I could rework it and still get the rejection.
UGH! I want me back.
Would the doubt demons that stole that part of me otherwise known as confidence please give me back?

Very Strange

okay, I’m surprised.

According to the Which Movie Star Are You Like? quiz, you’re:

George Clooney

Everyone loves you, and you’re only getting better (and better-looking!) with age. You’re a generous, loyal and fun-loving friend, and you also seem to really care about your politics, consistently putting yourself on the line for your beliefs. We wish there were more of you out there.

Take this quiz at


Wow! After a week at the TCEA conference, that’s about all I can say. Technology has changed the face of education. Hopefully I’ll be able to implement some of those changes in my classroom. I went to Austin planning on talking to Adobe and Apple about what I needed to move publications to the Internet and to implement some interactive elements: movies, slides, blogs.
I left Austin with the understanding that what I want to do is called media convergence. It’s not exactly new, but it is exciting. I couldn’t believe the number of elementary kids developing sites and publishing podcasts and shooting videos. The number of teachers using video and the Internet in their classrooms. I’m WAY behind the curve. I’m definitely getting iLife 06. It makes webpublishing incredibly easy. I’ve never seen anything like it.
After that I’ve got to decide between Adobe’s Premier product for multi-media or Final Cut. I’ve never worked with video, so I’ve got a lot to learn. It’s exciting and overwhelming but I can’t wait to learn,

Down one day Up the next

Woo Hoo! The editor requested a full at my pitch today.
Interesting that she knew my conflicts before I said what they were. Makes me think I need to look at those closely, make sure they stand out. I definitely don’t want to send her what she’s got a million times over.

Rejection Blues

I love the industry blogs I read and often they’re filled with words of wisdom from the people who make the calls or write the rejections. Often they say don’t blog about rejection because it’s unprofessional. I guess as a multi-rejected author, I shouldn’t really disagree with them. I mean I have lots of success at rejection and none at the call, but I honestly believe the truth about publishing is that rejection is a part of it. That the person who gets the most calls is often the one with the most rejections.
That said my most recent rejection, the one I came home to Friday night, sucked. But I got over it.
I went into my room, closed the door, flung myself on the bed and cried for ten minutes. But when those ten minutes were up, so was the grief. I have too much to do, too many other stories to write or stories written to query to waste time in grief over a rejection.
I did take the weekend off writing. And I feel re-energized, ready to go again.
I could give up. I know a lot of people suggest I stop for awhile, at least until my daughter’s done with school, but I don’t think that’s a great idea. For one thing, when I’m not writing, I’m pretty much a witch. For another, the person who understand the rejection was my daughter. She came into the room when the ten minute alarm went off, asked if I needed a hug and told me I needed chocolate. Pretty smart kid. I’m not real sure she’d understand that need if it weren’t for the rejections she’s watched me live through. 🙂

Parenthood 101

She was my froggy baby.

That’s what I called my daughter when she was born.
I don’t know why, exactly. I guess because when she puckered up her lips and cried like, well, a baby, she looked just like a frog. A red frog, but a frog just the same.
I know, that’s not exactly the way to build a young girl’s self-esteem, but that’s the way it was.

I loved my froggy baby. To be honest, I’d been afraid about that.
I wasn’t much of a baby person. Maybe it’s because I was selfish. Probably it was because babies didn’t like me. They cried when they saw me. Instantly. It was…a very bad thing.

But not my baby. I loved her and she loved me and we were good.

For about seven or eight years.

After that all hints of froggy baby were gone. My darling daughter had emerged. Gorgeous, headstrong, hyperactive.

Flash forward.

Parenthood 101 is a never-ending class of rollercoaster highs and lows. The highs are tremendous, fabulous, amazing. The lows stink. The grades aren’t measured in As and Bs and Fs but in life or something like it. It’s terrifying.

I’ve learned telling my daughter what to do is a little on the impossible side. I tell myself one day that stubborn nature is going to be a good thing. But last night as she was working on a project she’d put off until the last minute, it wasn’t exactly easy. At 10:30 I went to bed. I told her to do a good job and I shut the door.

That door was about the hardest thing to close ever. But I had to do it. She’s not my froggy baby anymore and her classes are hers to do or not. Her choice. Her consequences, both good and bad. Hers. Not mine. And that’s a little terrifying. But it’s a good thing.