The Black Hole

I hate December. I'm not a Scrooge, who hates Christmas. In fact, I'm more like a little kid who can't wait for Christmas to get here -- and be over -- because Christmas is a big part of why I hate December. December 1 through December 25 is a big black hole on the calendar.

Like a black hole, December sucks the cash out of my wallet, the line-of-credit off my charge cards, the creativity from my soul, and time from my life.

For several weeks, my critique group has been trying to schedule our two December meetings. We've even decided that one of those meetings will actually be a holiday dinner in a restaurant to treat ourselves (rather than exchange gifts) for being such industrious writers. But take six busy women, three of whom have school-aged children, and all of a sudden December is an oozing, sucking, time warp.

TV Stevie called me today with two additional obligations to add to our family calendar. I want to weep. A Major University basketball game to which TV won tickets; Aida (Y-Chromo's school did it last year, so he wants to see the touring company that's coming to town); holiday parties; holiday concerts; more holiday parties; TV has to work the same night Y-Chromo has Jazz Ensemble rehearsal 6-8pm and will need a ride home. We're pulling X-Chromo out of religious ed for two weeks because of High School night at her middle school next week and her brother's holiday concert two weeks later. Not only are we seriously over-booked, but when she doesn't go to religious ed, Mommy doesn't get her Write-Night.

Every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday evening is booked between now and December 25. Toss in a couple of Friday-Monday things, and . . . life is a black hole of timelessness.

Peace on Earth would be better accomplished with a little quiet down time.

Life Lessons

I'm trying to teach my teens about responsibility, but sometimes it's tough going, especially when their schools teach them that the world revolves around them. If X-Chromo's school had its way, I'd be doing something for them 24/7. Y-Chromo's school mostly does get its way, and I am tired of arranging my life, TV Stevie's life, and family moments around Y-Chromo's constant spate of school-related commitments.

This morning, however, I win. Sort of.

It is the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, and school is out until Monday. However, due to school, I have a myriad of unexpected errands.

X-Chromo needs her eyeglasses repaired. Someone stepped on them in science class yesterday. I'm not sure I want to know the details.

Y-Chromo needs a new saxophone case. He's been asking me to take him to a downtown music store for weeks. I don't want to drive downtown. Since it's my car and my time, I win.

This morning I seized a "teachable moment."

"Write down exactly what you're looking for in a sax case, then place the following calls: 1) The music store that is closest to our house; 2) a music store in a nearby suburb; 3) the downtown music store."

Naturally, he had to give me a difficult time. "What's the number for the music store in our neighborhood? They've moved since the phone book came out."

Me: "Call the old number. Either they took it with them or the phone company will tell you the new number." (How did he get to be 16 and not know this?)

Neighborhood music store doesn't carry sax cases.

Y-Chromo: "The suburban music store changed its name. How can I look it up in the phone book?"

Me: "Look up the old name. Either the number is the same or the phone company will tell you the new number." (He still hasn't learned.)

Fortunately, the suburban store has what he wants. But he didn't ask what time they close. I made him call back.

Hopefully he learned something from this besides how to use a telephone book and what happens when businesses move or are sold to another company: it's easier to call to see if something is in stock than to drive around town chasing the elusive.

Especially when Mom has to do the driving and pay for gas.

Silver Rose

My local RWA chapter has a holiday tradition known as The Rose Ceremony. Throughout the year, members earn roses of various colors for writing-related activities. Today, I earned a silver rose for public speaking. Yes. I went to X-Chromo's middle school Career Day as an author.

As many of you predicted, I had a BALL. I did not take Tarot cards with me.

I arrived early, because I had to drop off X-Chromo, so I stayed. Another participant came in and introduced himself to the guidance councilor with whom I was speaking. He's with county probation . I asked if he knew Chris Wenger. He said: "I love Chris Wenger." She trained him when he first started at probation 18 years ago.

I placed flyers for my local RWA chapter in front of my laptop. At first, I thought I shouldn't do that, because you have to be 18 to join RWA. Then I remembered that military recruiters would be at the school, and you have to be 18 to join the armed forces, too. A woman two tables over came to talk to me, primarily wanting to know if there was a national writing organization or a branch in Seattle. Her daughter writes and is constantly spending "way too much money" to learn the ins and outs of getting published. The woman picked up a flyer -- it has the Internet address for RWA on it -- to send to her daughter. I warned her national membership alone was $75 or so a year. She said that was nothing compared to what her daughter has been spending.

Principal D seemed fascinated with my Power Point slide presentation, especially my lists of words to avoid. He suggested that I come in and present to an English class. Unfortunately, the laptop battery didn't hold up the way it should have, so the second wave of students (including X-Chromo) didn't get to see the presentation.

The representative from the company that sets up Career Fairs for many school districts came to talk to me and the rep for the School of Visual & Performing Arts at Major University with whom I shared a table. He didn't realize I was there as a parent volunteer. He said: "We are always being asked for authors. Could you . . . ?" I handed him a chapter flyer, told him to go to our website, as the flyer was a bit out of date, and he would find contact information there for all of our published authors, many of whom would be delighted to appear at Career Days.

The students were surprised by the need for basic math -- until I explained that's how you figure your royalties (income), how much to pay your agent, and prepare your taxes. They had pre-printed "interview" questions they needed to ask. The Visual & Performing Arts rep and I revised our answers based on what we'd hear the other one say. The students loved my answer about what I like best about the job: I get to make things up, and I get to work in my pajamas.

But nicest of all? X-Chromo's friend DS handed me a sheaf of his poems to read.

Tiffanies and Other Defining Moments

When Y-Chromo was about three, he asked, "What's that holiday after Christmas and after New Years that Christians celebrate?"

Me: I don't know.

Y-Chromo: Yes, you do. It's a girl's name. It's . . . it's . . . it's TIFFANY!

And forever after, all moments of truth and sudden inspirations shall be called Tiffany.

When X-Chromo was in 3rd or 4th grade, she asked me to come to her class to talk about being a writer. Hmmm. Turns out I had a lot of fun. The students and the teacher were great. And many tools that romance authors use are the same ones being taught for the state-mandated ELA test: summary (synopsis); details (show-don't-tell); bubble-maps (plotting/character development charts). The gleam in the teacher's eyes when I showed the students a one-page synopsis for a 500 page book could have lit the entire school building.

A few weeks ago, X-Chromo handed me the phone and said, "DS needs to talk to a real writer."

Huh?

DS is a young man in middle school who writes. He told me the plot of his short story, but said he'd thrown it away and was starting over. He then read me the new opening lines. They were good. I told him they were good. I asked what he planned to do with the story once it was done. It seems DS "publishes" his writing and passes it out at school, which got him into a bit of hot water with Principal D (that's another story) a few weeks ago.

I handed the phone back to X-Chromo, and as she walked away, I heard her say to DS, "I told you my mom is cool."

A few night's later, X-Chromo said, "Mom, you should be in our Career Fair next week."

Me: I'm unemployed, remember?

X-Chromo: You're a writer. DS wants you there. Mrs. Math-Teacher wants you there. All my friends think it would be really cool to have a real writer at the Career Fair.

Me: Right. And I can bring Tarot cards and do readings, too.

X-Chromo: Mom, that's an awesome idea. Don't you use Tarot for character and plot development?

Me: Principal D would kick me out of school if I brought Tarot.

But you know, I'm intrigued by the idea of being a writer in a Career Fair. Too many people think it's easy to write a book and have one published. And it's not. It's hard work. I recently took an on-line class where one person said, "Oh, anyone can write a book." I wanted to challenge her, to say, "I DARE YOU," but didn't. Someone like that isn't worth the aggrevation.

And how much trouble could I get in for bringing Tarot cards to school as a writing tool? After all, I sleep with the PTO president.

Good Vibrations

This weekend was probably the last bit of sanity before the holiday season latches onto me and makes me crazy. TV Stevie's birthday is coming up in a week or so, and that is the official kick-off of our holiday spending season.

The spending isn't just of dollars and sense, but also of time, and as a writer, time is a valuable commodity. As a wife/mom, there aren't enough hours in a day to do everything expected of me. (Of course, some people have unrealistic expectations--like I should clean the house or something. Apparently, they haven't received the memo about the terraced vineyard I plan to plant on our stairs. The dirt is in the corners for a reason. Hello???) I, like everyone else, have a full schedule of holiday parties, performances, and observances starting in mid-November. Not to mention the shopping (which I hate in general).

Back to this weekend.

My RWA chapter held a mini-conference this weekend with Barbara Samuel as our guest instructor. On Friday night, the workshop was on the Zen of Goal-Setting. I attended a version of this workshop at RWA National Conference in Dallas, and it changed my life. On Saturday, Barbara gave a whole day workshop on finding one's voice. It was incredible. Amazing. I usually don't like hands-on type instruction, but Barbara had us doing timed writing on a variety of subjects. It was enlightening, and the results gave me a lot to think about with regard to my writing. I don't believe this sense of accomplishment was mine alone. There was much positive energy in that room.

Between sessions, I got to be with the best people in the world: other writers, several of whom are my best friends. On Friday night, members of our chapter provided munchies and beverages, and hosted an impromptu, completely informal welcome reception. Half of the attendees were from out-of-town, so this was a great mixer. We even had a couple of tarot card readers doing their thing.

After Saturday's session, I went out to dinner with several friends. We had a wonderful, relaxing time. Then, even though I live 5 minutes from the conference hotel, I spent a second night. A smaller group of friends got together, including our "Demented Guinea Fowl", who's moved away from the area, but came back for the event. Oh, how I have missed sitting around with these women, talking, laughing, exchanging witticisms, laughing, eating Lindt Balls and raspberry Milanos-- and did I mention the laughter?

We continued the laughter the next morning at breakfast. There was an intense session of writing for an hour or so, then the laughter burst out again, followed by a few tears as DGF prepared to leave town again.

Everyone should have these kinds of friends, these kinds of associates, and these kinds of events, where everyone comes together, shares good energy, and walks away refreshed. I suppose the fact that these are special events is what keeps them special, but on the other hand, shouldn't every day be special? Shouldn't there always be laughter, Lindt balls, and great friends?

My world would definitely be a better place.

The Zone or Believing in Serendipity

One of my dearest friends, The Queen-a Athena, and I have children attending religious education at the same facility on Wednesday nights. In the past, I would drop off the Chromos and go home. Last year, I borrowed a cue from the Queen-a and started taking my AlphaSmart or laptop with me. We sit together in the library and write. It's productive time for us.

This year, we rearranged our critique schedule (we're in the same crit group, too) so that we would have Wednesday nights open for what I call Wednesday Write Night. The facility's religious leader calls us The Wednesday Night Regulars.

For the past several weeks, I've been working on revisions that my wonderful agent and I discussed. It's editing. It's tweaking. It's not real writing. It's tedious, but it's part of the process, and I embrace it.

Tonight, I worked on a brand new scene. It was wonderful. As I typed, things happened in the scene that reflected events occuring later in the book. Parts of what I wrote tonight were conceived a few weeks ago, but as I wrote, other things happened. I'm a "pants-er" by nature, and tonight is why.

I was in The Zone. X-Chromo said I looked constipated. Queen-a said: "You were VERY in the zone. It was most impressive to watch."

I wrote 3.5 pages in 1.5 hours. If you knew the distractions (including a brief, hysterical conversation with Lars Olafsson), you would be amazed.

I miss The Zone, especially since it seems like I've been revising and/or rewriting forever.

A moment ago, X-Chromo came into my office and asked me if I believed in serendipity. She defined the word from a book she's reading (Boy Meets Boy): "All the random moments coming together to make one beautiful moment."

I realized that that is what happened tonight. Serendipity. The Zone.

For all you writers out there: May the Zone Be With You.