Walk for Wishes

On Sunday my family and I will be participating in the Walk for Wishes. We’ll get to the Baltimore zoo around 8 or so and after the walk we’ll check out the animals. Evie especially wants to see the penguins. The older kids are excited to miss church, but sometimes church isn’t in church, you know? Sometimes church is about serving others and that’s what the Make-A-Wish foundation is all about: granting wishes for kids who have a life-threatening illness or condition.

Our story is personal. Evelyn was diagnosed with leukemia when she was 2 1/2 years old.  After the initial “emergency” status of the situation descended to “high alert”, the social worker at the hospital helped us fill out the paperwork for a wish. The Wish ambassadors came to our house to meet Evelyn and the family. When asked, Evelyn went with the age appropriate response and said she wanted to meet the Disney princesses. The Wish people were ready to get us packed, but my husband and I were too tired to think about going anywhere. There was the logistics of traveling with a family of 6, Evie was right in the middle of treatment and had a complicated chemo and surgery schedule. She had to have regular surgery to inject chemo directly into the spinal fluid. And, there was the ever present danger of her compromised immune system. She could spike a fever and we’d be too far from our hospital where everyone knew what size needle to access her port-a-cath and how to take care of a pediatric oncology patient. How to take care of our precious daughter.

The Wish people told us firmly that we needed to use the Wish. That we needed a break. That everything was set — we would spent Evelyn’s fourth birthday in Disney. The Wish people didn’t forget Evie’s twin sister either. Evelyn was always the special guest, but Sylvia was taken care of too. We all were. And, the Wish people were right. That week away as a family showed us how run down we’d gotten, how grim and plodding. We returned to Maryland refreshed, full of energy, and ready to fight again. We also had a ton of pictures and an invaluable family experience with all six of us.

We went from this:

Evie after port replacement (due to infection)

Evie after port replacement (due to infection)

To this:

DSC03026And this: DSC03157And this:DSC02926

 

I hate fundraising — asking friends and neighbors and strangers for money — but this is important. Make-A-Wish isn’t about going on an imaginably fun trip, it’s about being taken care of by a network of volunteers who understand that each moment counts. We were fortunate enough to be taken care of and we’d like to pass that along to other families, the ones coming behind us who are just now finding out about their own health crisis, about their own beloved child.

Please consider donating $5 or $10. The walk is this Saturday. If you care to donate, here’s the link:

Woosley

Love,

Sherri

Too much stimulation

Today is the first day of spring break and I’m already going nuts.

Despite the fact that every school day I’m dragging kids out of bed, threatening everything that can be threatened if they miss the bus, today they are up. One child has gotten into the cookies and is eating them as she reads in bed. (a no-no in our house. CRUMBS, PEOPLE). The radio is blaring from a bedroom with no one in it. The twins are on my bed, jumping on me because they want their iPads. One twin is okay with waiting until later in the day, but the other has a meltdown complete with kicking legs and screaming and I look at the clock and just wonder why. The puppy wags his tail. He’s ready for his morning walk.

The computer is on downstairs and I yell, “No technology until after breakfast, please.” The answer: “We’re reading on the computer.”

Breakfast. Somehow I started the tradition of every snow day and first day of any break we have blueberry pancakes, and eggs or sausage or something else that requires actual cooking. So, I could bust these out by myself pretty quickly, but no. Supposed to be a teachable moment so I let her do the measuring and the stirring and I bite my lip when there is mix all over the counter and floor and she over-stirred the blueberries so that the mix is purple and little deflated blueberry balloon skins are all that’s left.

The oldest girl comes down and flops on the couch, turning on tv. And, now I’m annoyed because I can’t leave the kitchen, but I can’t seem to win against technology. And, I want my kids to go outside and like build a tree fort or something, but without my needing to supervise and without them using their father’s tools and messing anything up. Can’t they learn a foreign language or how to type? But, that would require my finding the program on the computer. And so I don’t say anything except to call the youngest when it’s time to flip the pancakes.

The laundry is going today too because, despite being spring break, there are buckets of dirty clothes. And I ask, is everything REALLY dirty? Even this shirt that I see is still folded? Did you really wear it? Yes, Mom. Three cherubic smiles. (The boy is still in bed. I don’t ask if his clothes are dirty. They are.)

And I start the dishwasher too, but have to stack the breakfast dishes in the sink, syrupy and sticky because there is too much. Too much of everything.

I dump the egg shells in the flower pots outside, tiny bit of composting, and later I see the puppy eating them. Mental note: Take the dog for another walk because who knows what that will do to his tummy.

My agent has sent me notes about the synopsis I need to get done. The kids want to know if they can watch a movie. I suggest they ride bikes. They want to know if they can play DS. I tell them they need to take the puppy for another walk. He’s going nuts because he normally has daily playdates with our neighbor’s dogs. They are all besties. The three of them run and jump over each other and do ridiculous acrobatics and then puppy comes back in and sleeps. But, the humans are on vacation and I texted the dogsitter to find out when the dogs would come outside, but don’t have a time yet.

This is him watching for his friends.

Gabe looking for Gracie

And then the doorbell rings and I realize I’m still in my pjs and my older daughter brings in a package from Fed ex or whatever. I go upstairs to get dressed. And I’m trying to decide if I can make it to critique group tonight. I haven’t been in so long, but I haven’t worked on the story I wanted to work on and I have something else, but it’s handwritten and I’d have to type it up. On the other hand, the babysitter is arranged and I don’t want to cancel on her and my husband won’t be home until late anyway and the coach is picking up the boy for lacrosse practice…and I’m thinking all these things when I hear a man’s voice. In my house.

And one of my kids wanders into my bathroom where I’m half-dressed and I say, “Is there someone here?” Which is stupid, BECAUSE I CAN HEAR THAT SOMEONE IS HERE. And the kid says, “Yeah. The bug guy is spraying.”

Which I kind of hate anyway because I don’t like chemicals all around, and I hate strangers showing up at my door. Especially when I’m not dressed. I throw on the rest of my clothes and hurry outside, but the bug guy is gone. So, the one place we need sprayed is the door in the basement because we get these huge black spiders that lurk in doorways and the bug guy didn’t spray the one spot we needed. And I’m pissed and rushed and the kids tell me that they are done playing Polly Pockets and want to know if it’s time for lunch.

And I tell them no and run to the internet to type these words so I can get my head on straight and figure out what is going on. Not just with the day because nothing really terrible has happened, but I’m frazzled and feel karate chopped.

And, here it is. Too much stimulation. I’m an introvert. I like calm and even silence. I like to drift in my thoughts thinking of story lines or images. And now I feel defensive, attacked. Crazy to make all these demands STOP.

And, I’m tired of feeling guilty. Like every break or holiday from school is supposed to be an opportunity for Pinterest. Why do I have to defend my need and my desire to work on my dream (the synopsis for my novel and a story for tonight’s meeting)? But, I do. My kids work me constantly. The boy literally spent thirty minutes last night quizzing me on his favorite things to show that I don’t spend enough time with him.

Example:

Him: You don’t even know my favorite color.

Me: Orange.

Him: MY OTHER FAVORITE COLOR.

Me: Dark Blue.

Him: (huffy breath) Well, you don’t even know my favorite….

The girls are manipulative.

Me: Go play something real with your Monster High girls or your shopkins. Make up a story and act it out with the characters.

Them: Why DON’T you WANT to play WITH us?

Me: I do. But I have to work.

Them: So you don’t love us. We understand. (Slumped shoulders and eyes that slide away)

Me: We just made breakfast together.

Twin 1: No, you just did that with Twin 2.

Me: Okay, you can help me make lunch.

Twin 1: You always want me to work!

 

And now it’s lunch time. Hope you’re enjoying your spring break!

Sherri

Running Out of Gas

When I was 16 years old I had to share a “lemon” with my older sister. My kids didn’t know what a “lemon” was when I mentioned this the other day and I tried to explain how horrible an olive green station wagon with faux wood panels was…especially to a new driver in the throes of teenagedom where one doesn’t want to stand out. My parents thought it quite a joke. They bought a key ring with a picture of a lemon. In case we didn’t get it, my sister and I, the word “Lemon” was written underneath the picture. Thanks.

(BTW, my middle-aged sister worked her butt off at McDonald’s and bought herself this teeny-tiny adorable car that she jetted around in, driving with concentration, her visor at the correct angle to account for her curled and hairsprayed bangs)

I digress. The point is, I hated this car. And, I didn’t have a lot of money. So, I’d put whatever money I had into the gas tank, drive it around, and then turn it over to my older sister. She did the same to me until one day I was driving and pushing the gas pedal and yet, somehow, slowing down. The cars passed by on my left. I assume the drivers gave me a quizzical look as I grabbed the wheel more tightly and began rocking my body, trying to get that car to move forward.

It went slower. I pulled over to the side. The gas needle was very clearly on E. I got out, left the keys in the car (who would steal it?), and walked to my friend’s house. From there I walked home. My older sister wanted the car, demanded to know where it was. I told her. “Over on Route 22. You can’t miss it.”

What I remember is that sensation of pushing the pedal, but slowing down. The actual action of running out of gas. My character Rachel experiences this. She’s given everything she has in trying to save her son. She’s asked to give more and she does until she physically collapses, the voices around her sound muffled, her vision is blurry, and she collapses.

Has this ever happened to you in real life? It’s happened to me twice in the past month. Yes, I know, that doesn’t speak well to my learning my lesson. I was always stubborn. But, I also struggle with being a people-pleaser. I WANT people to like me even though I rationally know that my desire is INSANE. I say “yes” to too many things.

Teaching an adult Sunday School from Lent to Easter.

Parent helper for the Elementary Science Club for five weeks.

Teaching seven fitness classes a week.

Running a household with six people: laundry, lunch packing, dinner making, homework checking, projects, grocery shopping, shoe shopping, gathering too small clothes for AmVets, buying little gifts from the “Valentine Dove” (yeah…that’s a different story).

Classroom mom.

Supporting my son’s basketball obsession — playing both rec and travel and against the walls of my house — and driving my twins to gymnastics, and keeping track of my daughter’s horseback riding lessons.

Walking the puppy in the freezing cold and rain because he is potty trained and we AREN’T going to regress.

AND I WAS REVISING MY NOVEL WITH A DEADLINE. You know, my personal dream that I’ve been chasing for years.

I was running out of gas, pushing as hard as I could, cutting out anything that wasn’t directly related to work. There was no time for friends (oh, and I gave up Facebook for lent so I didn’t even have that pleasure), no time for reading, no time to enjoy my kids, no time for myself. No time!

And then I was done. I smacked into depression and I no longer had a choice. I had to cut back. That is, I could only do the bare minimum to function. My husband noticed. “You’re such a drag,” he said. My son noticed, “Where’s your sense of humor?” My twins noticed, “Mommy needs a massage!”

But no one stopped me from running out of gas. I was mad — everyone was willing to take from me, but no one was ready to take care of me. I was mad at other parents. Why doesn’t someone else step up and do something about starting middle and high schools later? Why aren’t there more volunteers at church so I don’t always feel like I have to “step up”? Why can’t the kids make themselves an after school snack without completely destroying the kitchen?

Here’s the thing. We’re all responsible for ourselves. Yes, it’s nice when we have a partner or parent or friend who is tuned in enough to advise “slow down” or who will make a nice dinner or give a gift to “fill the tank.” But, we have to take responsibility and not get so low in the first place.

I started doing little things. My husband watched the other kids so I could take my oldest daughter to the nail salon. She got a mani, I got a pedi. It sounds silly and frivolous, but it made a difference. I was doing something because it was fun.

Here’s a list I’m making for the next time I get out of balance, start giving faster than I’m filling. I will take care of myself with:

  1. Real food. When I’m stressed and running from task to task, my eating habits drop. Solution: Turn to veggies and hummus, crock pot recipes, and fresh fruit.
  2. Exercise. My job is to exercise right now. But, in hindsight I should have called in a sub for help and let myself rest.
  3. Sleep. I don’t think I’m the only one to try to get more done in a day by staying awake for longer, but it will catch up to you. Lack of sleep makes you feel hungrier, less able to focus, and more emotional.
  4. Less caffeine. Again, I don’t think I’m alone in drinking coffee to make myself move faster. Same thing. I need rest, not more fake energy that leaves me feeling unable to focus, dissatisfied and impatient.
  5. Physical. I just rescheduled my dentist appointment from December.
  6. Mental. It sounds crazy, but even when you are revising, read a book. I fell in love with books and piling up “to be read” when I finished my “work” was actually harming me. I wasn’t getting the stimulation to my brain and imagination.
  7. Social. Yeah. I had coffee with my across-the-street neighbor this week. First time we’ve done more than wave since December. Yes, she’s a busy mom and artist (photographer) and I’m a busy mom and artist (writer), but we have to make time. Relationships are important.
  8. Family. Spending time with your family that isn’t the “business” of life. My niece came by. She’s on her spring break. It made me so happy to talk to her and then watch her with my kids. Cousins rock.
  9. Look at pictures of adorable animals.  St. Pattys Happy St. Patrick’s Day!
  10. Fun. This is probably the hardest for me. My husband too. We both work hard and push aside activities that are “only” fun.

Do you have any ideas for ways to fill your tank so that you don’t “run out of gas?” Would love to read about them in the comments below.

 

Still Revising — a conversation

Hello, Friends.

I’m still revising. The good news is that I’m in the final act. Here’s my favorite sentence:

If Scott was right that energy paths ran across the lithosphere of the earth connecting land forms and significant natural monuments, and Emesh was right that the earth was overflowing with antediluvian energy activated by Shamash’s dying body, and The Weatherman was right that energy was the key to understanding the post-firestorm changes, then…Rachel’s mind stopped here. She didn’t know exactly what it meant, except that this LaPorte place was something like a nuclear reactor.

It gets readers all on track for Act 3 when everything both falls apart and pulls together, based on the clues and action in the preceding acts. No pressure.

Here’s my bad news. IT’S HARD. You want everything to SHINE and MAKE SENSE and just because a scene is fun or develops character, it doesn’t get to stay. It has to WORK. And sometimes that’s hard to decide.

I agonized over a chapter (chapter 30) this weekend, used my agent’s feedback, talked to everyone I encountered about it. Then, I send my revision off to my critique group. We meet this Friday to discuss and exchange notes.

This morning I realized that I can cut the scene. Just cut it out. Skip the agony. Boil the scene down to the three things I need to keep and move that to a different chapter. But, I’m scared. I’m over-thinking. WHAT IF THAT WAS THE CHAPTER WITH ALL THE BRILLIANT WRITING THAT READERS WERE GOING TO UNDERLINE ON THEIR KINDLES?

(It isn’t)

WHAT IF THIS IS WHERE READERS FALL IN LOVE WITH MY PROTAGONIST?

(If they haven’t by chapter 30 then you have a problem that revising chapter 30 isn’t going to fix)

BUT THIS IS THE CHAPTER WITH A HISPANIC CHARACTER WHO SPEAKS SPANISH AND I CONSULTED BOTH MY HUSBAND AND GOOGLE TRANSLATE TO MAKE SURE I GOT IT RIGHT. I NEED TO BE DIVERSE.

(There are many languages used in this world. Many languages that have been used. Many that will be. Are you going to have each one represented in this particular novel? You might want to check both the word count and your readers’ patience if this is your project. Instead, maybe concentrate on the story?)

BUT NOW I HAVE TO WRITE THAT CHAPTER, AND THE BEGINNING OF THE NEXT, ALL OVER AGAIN.

(Yeah, that’s called revising.)

Next month when I post, I hope to tell you that I’m finished revisions and have sent to my agent….then I get to attack my next novel that is almost there. It just needs some….wait for it…revisions.

Love,

Sherri

Character Development and Revision

Hi Friends,

Happy Holidays. Be safe. It seems like December, for a month devoted to peace on earth, is awfully stressful and full of angry people. Maybe that was just the lady in the car next to me last night while we were stuck in a traffic jam. Please don’t be that lady.

I’ve advanced through the QUERY TRENCHES into the COURTYARD OF REVISIONS. I’ve pulled up a little bench and waved at my new comrades. Some of them I recognize from the DESERT OF DESPAIR. Too much Pilgrim’s Progress, literary style?

Anyway, I’ve been working through my agent’s revisions. First, I really appreciate her thoughtful and insightful questions and comments. The concrete suggestions were, in many ways, easier than the overall questions: How can you weave Adam and Rachel into the bigger story of what’s happening? Why are they important?  And, of course, the character arcs.

So, here’s my confession. I made a mistake at the beginning. The conceit of the novel was: What happens when an ordinary mom and boy who already have medical problems find themselves in the middle of an apocalypse. The story grew from there. I answered questions about what caused the firestorm, what the world looked like after, started stringing images together. What I didn’t do was make my ordinary mom a real person.  That was a mistake. Yes, she is not a superhero in a world taken over by ancient gods, yes, we see her acting and reacting in the new setting, but my wonderful critique partners pointed out this week that they don’t KNOW Rachel any better than they would know someone they work with or someone in their class or a neighbor that you wave to. That is, they’ve seen the outside of Rachel, heard some interior monologue, felt the love she has for her son, Adam, but aren’t FRIENDS with her.

Huh, I said.

All the mannerisms. All the stomach holding (stress has her on the verge of ulcers), all the headaches (verge of dehydration due to lack of self-care and lack of clean water), all the jaw clenching when she’s scared. They don’t have meaning. They are actions that don’t reveal character. ANYONE could do those things.

“So what does she DO?” I asked.

Like sages on the mountaintop (I have a very wise literary critique group), they told me only I could answer that. I frowned at them. Because I wanted a quick answer. I’m on track to get these revisions done by the end of January. I’m ready to move on to my other novel. I’m ready to work on short stories for awhile. I don’t want to go back and do character exercises.

Then they frowned at me.

“Fine,” I said. Which leads to 35 Questions to ask your character. We did something similar in Jeff and Ann VanderMeer’s writing class, but my friend Sarah is not here to interview me pretending to be Rachel. Guess I’ll be talking to myself. Which I do anyway, so now I have an excuse.

Here’s an example:

  1. What trait do you (Rachel) most deplore in others?   Being devious and complicated, keeping secrets
  2. What is your idea of perfect happiness? Culture. I love food, music, art, concerts, perfume, fancy clothes, and snuggling in front of the fireplace with a movie at home.
  3. What is your greatest fear?  Failing. I’d rather quit rather than fail. I feel the pressure to succeed and it creates such anxiety that I give up. Like art school. I quit and changed my major to art history. I never opened the gallery in New York like I planned. I never even tried. I blamed the death of my parents, but I know I wimped out.
  4. What do you like about yourself? I like my curly, auburn hair. It secretly reminds me of John William Waterhouse’s painting “The Lady of Shalott.” Did I mention that I’m a hopeless romantic?
  5. What is the trait you most deplore in yourself? I second guess everything, trying to figure out what to do. I know it makes me look indecisive. I hate it, but I’m afraid of messing up. I need time to figure it all out.
  6. Extrovert or introvert? Definitely introvert. I’m reserved with strangers, modest, and need alone time to work on my drawings. It’s how I figure out what I think — by letting my work come through my subconscious.
  7. What do you most value in your friends? I value loyalty and honesty. With my friends, I can make fun of myself, relax, and drink some wine. After Adam was diagnosed, Nurse Naomi became my best friend because I could always count on her to tell me the truth and because we were on the same journey: save Adam’s life.
  8. What is the quality you most like in a man? A man who can appeal to my senses. I want candlelight, romance, and a phone call or letter after the first date. I want to be swept away with emotion, but it will take time and effort from him! I don’t like drama, but if he can convince me to choose him…I won’t change my mind.

 

The list, of course, has a great many other questions, but you get the point. Fell0w writers — would love to have you answer some of the questions from your character’s POV in the comments.

Love,

Sherri

 

 

 

Fostering Gabe

So, let me acknowledge that it’s crazy. That my life with four kids and a husband who travels for work is full. Let me add in that I recently, after years of work, signed on with an amazing literary agent for my novels and there is a lot of revision in my future. I volunteer at church and at the elementary school. I’m FULL.

Gabe's glamour shot. He's 11 weeks and 11 pounds.

Gabe’s glamour shot. He’s 11 weeks and 11 pounds.

But, I wanted a puppy. Well, a dog. But we got a puppy and now I can’t imagine not wanting a puppy. For about two years now I’ve had this hankering for a canine companion. Every time I brought it up with my husband he would, in a very rational and analytical way, point out that we’ve just gotten to the point where our kids are all in school, they can all read, swim, bicycle. We still have to watch them…but we don’t have to hover anymore. We can go places on the weekends. Everything he said made sense and I would fold away my dog dream. A few days later it would unfold itself and I would want again. I looked at pictures on the internet and read their stories.

I filled out an application at a local rescue, was approved, and picked out the bundle of sweetness that I wanted. I e-mailed my husband every step of the way…because he was in Singapore for business. By the time he came home, she was adopted. I was heartbroken. I’d already pictured us romping through the fields together. She was beautiful and I wish the little pup well with whatever family adopted her. But, now I was on a mission.

My husband asked if my wanting a dog was code for wanting a baby. No. NO. I want a snuggley pet. I grew up with dogs. I like them walking around the house doing their thing. I like when dogs are happy to see you when you walk in the door. I like when they put their paw on your leg and give you THAT look. I wanted my own dog.

Oldest with Gabe. She waited 8 years for a dog in this house.

Oldest with Gabe. She waited 8 years for a dog in this house.

My kids wanted a dog. The oldest girl has been asking for a dog since she was 5. She’s now 13. The twins race up to strangers and ask if they can pet the dogs at all the soccer practices. My boy dreams of a dog like a Jack London book. Them against the world (and all his sisters).

My husband agreed we could compromise. We’d foster. I filled out an application with Big Fluffy Dogs. I’d come across the organization while looking at pictures of Great Pyrs. In the novel I’m about to revise, one of the characters is a white half-wolf (Dido) and I wanted to see photos.

I got an e-mail Thursday afternoon and the phone call Thursday night — there was an 11-week old puppy who needed a foster home. Of course Mike was in New York. I tried to call him. Got voicemail. Had to make a decision. I said yes. My coordinator is Nan. She’s tricky — she LISTENED during the interview and then picked a pup that EXACTLY matched our family needs. She was the first to mention the term “foster fail.” That’s when you realize your heart is not going to let your puppy go. Then, to discuss transport, I spoke to Cookie. I’ve never met Cookie, but I already like someone who would choose this name. I picture a woman wearing a nurse’s coat with chocolate chip cookies with arms and legs and big smiley faces. In the background of her phone I could hear her dogs (she had a puppy that was very happy she was home) and in the background of my phone my twins girls, wrapped in towels and dripping water, were repeatedly asking, “Is that the dog lady?”

Transport. The dogs are sent out from Tennessee and then stop at certain pre-planned sites. For me, in northeast Maryland, I had two options. Both were 2 hours away. I was worried about how to fit in 4 hours of driving on Saturday. The twins had soccer from 9-10:30, we had a neighborhood party at 2:30, my older daughter’s soccer at 4:30, and my son’s travel football game at 8. I can’t remember if Cookie laughed, but she did tell me that the pick up wasn’t going to interfere…..I was to pick up GABE at 2 AM in the empty parking lot of a Toys’R’us.

An emergency trip to Petsmart on Friday after school. I kinda wish I had a picture. The five of us, 4 kids and me, testing out the squeaky toys, voting on the dog bowl, discussing the merits of any and all puppy accessories. One of the twins tried out the cushion for the crate to make sure it was soft enough. Friday night Mike arrives home and sees the dog food dish, the food, the crate. “Is there something you need to tell me, Sherri?”

A few hours later, at 11:45 PM, my oldest daughter and I head out, armed with blankets and water and a dish, etc. Big Fluffy Dogs gives all the information and tells what to do and I read the instructions like a million times. I drank some tea, but my daughter was supposed to talk to me on the drive, keep me awake. Yeah right. She was asleep, sprawled on the backseat snoring, before we turned out of our development.

The men doing the transport were there, the whole process was only a few minutes. I made sure to drive my minivan up to the transport van in a very clandestine manner so that the drivers windows faces each other. I learned that from THE WIRE. “You Sherri?”  “Yeah. You got GABE?” “Yeah.” “Come around to the back of the van.” “Alright, I will.”

No, that wasn’t how it went, but I was so sleep-fogged that I can’t remember the exact dialogue. I do remember commenting on how awake the men seemed and they advised energy drinks and heavy metal music. My daughter woke up. We cuddled little Gabe, she took him, and we headed home.

In the morning, the other three kids couldn’t believe it was real. WE HAD A PUPPY. Look at my son’s face.

We're really doing this? Does Dad know?

We’re really doing this? Does Dad know?

Gabe is hilarious, and he’s definitely family friendly. He’s been inside, outside, slept in a hammock, gone to the park (not a dog park because he doesn’t have his last shots), watched his first soccer practice from the warmth of the car, and tested out everyone’s bed. He does have a crate that he uses during the night and when I go to work.

twins

But, everyone is still so excited, that we have to use a timer at bedtime. He sleeps with each child for 12 minutes and then I have to move him to the next child for snuggles.

I’m not sure how fostering works out — we’re still getting into the routine — but I can’t STAND the thought that this little guy might have been in a shelter, one among many, kept in a crate because there aren’t enough resources to care for all the animals.

HURRAY FOR FOSTERS!

I’ve got to go. Lots to do today.

Love,

Sherri

It’s Not You. It’s Them (Sherri version)

It’s a little awkward, being funny at the end of class when you are supposed to be in savasana, but yesterday I read this to my yoga classes from Glennon’s Momastery rant.

Here’s my version.

Children #3 and #4 were shocked at the bus stop on Tuesday. A little neighbor girl told them, confirmed by the girl’s mother, that when I said they could “skip school” on Monday, it was a joke. Everyone was off for Labor Day. Child #3 gave me big eyes and said she was disappointed in me. Child #4 ran down the driveway and sat down in the backyard, demanding a new day off from school.

I tried to reason with her. Reminding her that on Monday Daddy hadn’t been at work, we’d seen school friends at the pool, and she’d even invited the neighbor girl over to play. I thought she’d figured it out. Child #3 wasn’t budging on the fact that she’d been robbed of a day off school. I thought about suggesting this Monday, when schools are closed again, but wisely refrained. The bus came up the street. Bodily threats were involved. Got her on the bus.

Child #3 stared at me from the bus window and shook her head with disapproval.

The older kids aren’t easier, though.

My daughter, Child #1, got her very first check in the mail for doing a job at our church. She was so excited. Until I took it away. She’d moved chairs — setting up for service and then restacking — and maybe broken a sweat. However, this summer she also lost 2 library books. We searched everywhere. Haven’t seen them in weeks. I had to pay for them yesterday. And the price?  Well, she got back $1 from her first paycheck. She’s angry at me.

Not to be left out, Child #2 felt betrayed when I wouldn’t help him steal a book from Child #1’s room. Here’s the thing. Not only do we go to the library every 3 weeks, not only do each of the children check out books from their school library, but our house has books in every room. We love books. But, Child #1 decided to read the Artemis Fowl series. Each of the books was on her bookshelf. Suddenly, Child #2 wanted to read the series, but he’s read several times before, so he read more quickly. Despite promising that he wouldn’t hound her the day before, by Tuesday he was ready for the second book and she was in the middle. He worked out a complicated scheme of my calling Child #1 out of her room, him sneaking in, taking the book, sticking it inside another book, and retreating to a different part of the house to read it. Then, sneaking it back into her room before he left for football practice.

“No,” I said. But I did check out books 2 and 3 from the library (where I went to pay for the lost books) and brought them home the next day. They were unacceptable because they had different cover art and he wanted me to switch library book 2 for our copy book 2. If I could just call Child #1 out of her room then he would….

IT’S NOT ME, IT’S THEM. They are strange, whirling planets of selfish desire and unreasonable requests. Constant requests. You get through one and there’s another waiting behind it.

Glennon says to wait it out. I’ve got nothing better to advise.

Love,

Sherri

 

Self Care and Reading List

It’s about halfway through summer and, if you are at all like me, you were so excited for the school year to end — no bus to catch and no homework –and now you’re getting a little snippy, a little rundown. YOU need a timeout. One minute per age. In a corner with no distractions and no one yelling for you.

You’ve been taking care of your kids — balancing your work with childcare, packing for the pool, trying to take a beach vacation that doesn’t include sharks or man’o’wars, eating ice cream, picking blueberries, movie nights, ice skating to escape the heat (rain if you are in Maryland), more ice cream. And the errands. What used to take you forty minutes now takes you hours and much coaxing (come on, Johnny, one more store. Do it for Mama).

Take a moment and check in with yourself!

Checklist

1) Did you drink water today?

2) Have you eaten today?  Was it more than the remains of your child’s breakfast?

3) Did you get enough sleep? (I hear all my friends with young children laughing wildly. I have four kids. I get it. But grab a nap when you can. Even put your feet up and park it for ten minutes.)

4) Spend time with nature.

5) Physical touch. Get a massage. Exchange foot rubs with your honey.

6) Write in a journal. Whatever is happening will not last. Release your angry feelings or capture an endearing conversation.

7) Practice yoga or take an exercise class to combine work out and socializing.

8)Put away your phone. Trivia Crack will be fine. The game gives you two days to answer. (clears throat) Or so I’ve heard.

9) Do something that makes you feel pretty. For me it’s a pedicure. Don’t judge. I can handle a lot of things if my toenails are painted.

10) Have you read a new book? Have you given a book to a loved one?

I can help with this last one. Some recommendations by age:

Ages 7-12.

My story “Mama Salamander” was published in the July issue of Spaceports & Spidersilk This story came to me quickly, based on an incident in my youngest’s school cafeteria. I read the entire issue with my 7-year-old twins and they enjoyed all the stories and poems, especially the one about Zaxx the “human.”

Zita the Spacegirl graphic novel

Secret Science Alliance graphic novel

Diary of a Wimpy Kid Series

Odd and the Frost Giants by Neil Gaiman (We’re reading a chapter each night. What isn’t to like about a boy on his way to Asgard to help the Norse gods against frost giants?)

Young Adult

My son loves Brandon Sanderson and we’ve both read The Reckoners series (Steelheart and Firefight). I’ve heard there’s a reveal for Calamity coming out soon…and the book will be released in early 2016.

Juggler’s Blade by Rob Ross (Sequel is coming out in the fall)

Fablehaven Series  (Our copies are beyond dog eared)

The Paladin Prophecy Series by Mark Frost (I haven’t read these, but my son keeps checking them out of the library).

Bone Gap by Laura Ruby (magical realism mystery. I’m looking forward to reading)

Becoming Jinn by Lori Goldstein (my daughter has read this, but I haven’t yet. A story with a modern spin on wish granting genies.)

Cruel Beauty by Rosamund Hodge  I enjoyed this twist on Beauty and the Beast. Nyx Triskelion has known for most of her life that she must marry Ignifex, the “Gentle Lord” who terrorizes her world, due to a bargain her father made before her birth.

 

Adult Nonfiction-y

Wild by Cheryl Strayed  The true story of a woman who hiked the Pacific Coast Trail by herself to escape her inner demons, but ended up facing them.

Searching for Sunday  by Rachel Held Evans (I bought this on recommendation from Glennon over at Momastery. I look forward to reading it)

Adult Fiction

JEFF VANDERMEER  That is all.  No, I’m just kidding (no, I’m not). His Southern Reach trilogy is a treat in surrealist mystery. Annihilation, Authority, and Acceptance.

Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell by Susanna Clarke (I’m about to start, but a little intimidated by all the footnotes).

Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel. National Book Award Finalist. I’m excited to read it. Devastating flu pandemic, a small troupe of actors and musicians, and a violent prophet…in a story that moves back and forth in time.

The Girl on the Train by Paula Hawkins. Everyone is talking about it — comparisons of unreliable narrator to the feeling of Gone Girl.

The Fifth Mountain by Paulo Coelho. Religious fiction of the biblical prophet Elijah.

The Mirror Empire by Kameron Hurley. Cover says, “A smart, brutal, and ambitious epic fantasy.” An orphan evades death to uncover her bloody past against the backdrop of civil war. Brilliant reviews on Amazon.

The Water Knife by Paolo Bacigalupi. I heard Paolo read an excerpt at Capclave last fall and have been waiting for the book release.The American southwest has been decimated by drought in this near-future thriller. Here’s the Amazon last line: But when water is more valuable than gold, alliances shift like sand, and the only truth in the desert is that someone will have to bleed if anyone hopes to drink.

Okay. You should all be able to find something on this list. Practice self-care and I wish you relaxation and enjoyment for the second half of summer. Let me know in the comments if you’ve read any of these or plan to….or give me some suggestions to add to the list.

Love,

Sherri

Last Day of School

Today is the last day of school. It was a long year — made longer by the 11 snow days that my county used. I’d like to think that Monday will automatically slow down, that we will ease into summer, but I have a Memorial Service and summer camp for the younger ones and the next session of barbell and yoga starts with a donation class raising money for at-risk youth in Baltimore. So, I’ll keep you posted when my family and I do slow down.

Last month — May — kicks my butt every year. (Picture below) You’ll notice the photo is somewhat blurry. That’s because May ZOOMS. Every day, no hyperbole, has at least three things happening. And that’s just what is scheduled. The lacrosse games and practices, the field trips to zoos and historic cities and estuaries and class picnics at school because the weather is finally cooperating. Planting the garden and the gymnastics so the girls will stop climbing the outside of my stairs…it goes on.

Family bulletin board for scheduled events.

Family bulletin board for scheduled events.

So, please forgive me for not writing.

But, today is the last day of school. For the past week the children have been bringing home artwork and thick science notebooks full of big science-y words and diagrams of ladybugs growing from larvae and pottery that has been glazed and painted and math workbooks with numerical scribbling, and certificates. All kinds of certificates, especially for my 5th grader. And I felt such pride in my children and warmth for their teachers. I wanted to hug everyone and scream, “WE MADE IT.”

And then these things happened to make me question the reality of whether we’d made it or not.

First, my son. He’s ‘graduating’ from 5th grade, this past year having been preparation for middle school. Yet, FAILED at picnicking. I invited him to a picnic. General schedule was followed in that people arrived, set food on one table, dessert on another, drinks in a cooler. All routine. After about 20 minutes of socializing there is a congregation. Sometimes a speech. In this case a prayer. Lines form and go down the table, plates are filled. I helped the two younger children, checked that my son had a plate (he did), asked if he needed anything (he rolled his eyes), I sat with two younger children and some moms.

Two hours later, thunder begins. Adult scuttle around packing up the food and folding the chairs. My son, as I’m carrying our Tupperware in one hand and our chairs in the other, says, “But I didn’t get any dessert.”

So I stop the woman (I didn’t know her name) who’d brought the best dessert. Strawberries with the tops cut off, stuffed with cream and topped with a fresh blueberry.  I stop this woman and ask if, please, my son could have some of her dessert. My two youngest have also run over to the dessert table and fetched the only thing left: oatmeal cookies, to offer to my son. To both, my son mutters, “Never mind” and stalks away.

In the car my son, who is supposed to have been maturing this past year, screams: THE PARTY DIDN’T EVEN FEED ME.

Me: But you had a plate.

Him: Only chips.

Me: Why?

Him: Because I didn’t want to wait in line.

Me: Why didn’t you go back later?

Him: I did. Everyone was cleaning up.

Me: That was 2 hours later.

Him: I don’t know that. I don’t have a watch.

So, there you go. The party is somehow an entity that puts people in high chairs and spoon feeds them, I guess. But, that’s nothing compared to what the laundry basket can do….

My daughter is finishing 7th grade. A young adult now. Handles herself in school, rides horses, responsible. And when she came home from her riding lesson, she joined the younger kids and me in the playroom where we were painting. Not long after, she realizes that she got paint all over the leg of her riding pants.

Me: Hurry, wash them off before it stains.

Her: Okay.

She gets up and disappears. About ten minutes later she comes back wearing different clothes.

Me: Did the paint come out?

Her: (quizzical look) How should I know?

Me: What do you mean?

Her: What do you mean?

Me: Where are the pants?

Her: I quick took them off and put them in the laundry bin, like you said.

Me: What do you think happens after you put them in the bin? That they are automatically clean? That you put them in and they come back out folded?

Her: You don’t have to be mean.

The riding pants were indeed in the laundry bin, spreading paint onto someone else’s white sock. I showed her the stain spray, ran the load. The riding pants were saved. So was the sock

My children have had an important year. They’ve learned many things. There is, apparently, still much to be learned.

I wish you (and your children) the best this summer!

Love,

Sherri

Guest Author: T. Eric Bakutis

Big Happenings in the Baltimore literary SFF scene starting with this weekend.

Balticon is four days of  conference programming featuring authors, publishers, editors, artists, scientists, musicians and other creative SF luminaries beginning Friday, May 22nd.  I’ll be there on Saturday — let me know in the comments if you plan to be there.

Also, the Baltimore Science Fiction Society’s Amateur Contest is currently underway for Maryland residents now through June 19th. No entry fee AND cash prizes for winners.

Finally, I’d like to introduce you to my fellow Critique Circle partner and author:

T. Eric Bakutis.  (He will also be at Balticon this weekend, so make sure to order his book or buy it there and ask him to sign.)

Author T. Eric Bakutis

Author T. Eric Bakutis

Bio: Eric Bakutis is an author and game designer living in Maryland. The staff of Balticon selected his first novel, Glyphbinder, as one of eight finalists for the 2014 Compton Crook Award, and his short fiction has been published in a number of anthologies and small markets. When he’s not writing, he’s playing or designing videogames, hiking with his wife, daughter, and cowardly dog, or flying spaceships in virtual reality. You can find a complete list of his published works as well as links to his blog, social media accounts, and some really cool artwork at www.tebakutis.com.

  1. Eric, thanks for stopping by TasteofSherri. First question. What does the title of your novel mean? 

Glyphbinder was the title I arrived at after my first editor (at McBryde Publishing) shot down a much longer title I’d used for most of my book’s life cycle. They pointed out (correctly) that I needed something short, catchy, and memorable. After trying out a number of titles, this one stuck.

I settled on Glyphbinder because that’s the school of magic the book’s main character, Kara, pursues at Solyr, her magic academy. In my world, magic is taught in much the way you would teach programming students a “scripting language”. Instructors teach students how to paint unique “glyphs” (basically complex patterns) on the air or themselves that, when correctly scribed, accomplish a specific purpose. Like a function in a scripting language, they either do exactly what they are intended to do, or, if entered incorrectly, don’t do anything at all… which makes it less likely students will accidentally blow each other up during training.

Solyr teaches a number of different magic disciplines (Bloodmenders, Beastrulers, Firebrands, Lifewardens, and so on) and each discipline uses its own style of glyphs – think of them as different written languages, like French or German. Only a small number of students become Glyphbinders because that discipline involves learning glyphs from multiple disciplines and combining them together. It could best be described as learning to write long sentences using words from four or five unique languages at once!

Kara is a prodigy with glyph magic, one of the few Glyphbinders at Solyr, and since she’s the book’s protagonist, that made sense as a catchy title. As a bonus, choosing that title also introduced an excellent naming scheme for the whole trilogy. My second book (coming in December 2015) is titled Demonkin, because its main protagonist uses glyphs from that school, and the third book will be (tentatively) titled Bloodmender, as its main protagonist uses that glyph discipline.

GlyphbinderCoverImage

2. Which of your characters did you find the easiest to write?

Once I’m far enough into a book, all of my characters develop their own unique voice and writing them becomes second-nature, so I wouldn’t say one character is easier than another. However, I do think Trell (a character who loses his memory under mysterious circumstances) was probably the most fun to write, simply because he got to serve as my “newcomer” character (the person everyone explains things too) and also because he got some of the best lines. Trell is a rather reserved and taciturn person, but every so often he would say something that literally made me laugh out loud while reading it.

Also, Jair was a fun character to write simply because I loved his glyph discipline (Soulmage, which involves conjuring and even allowing oneself to be possessed by the dead) and because, while he remains in the background of many scenes, I knew as the author there was a lot more going on with him than evident on the surface. So in many ways Jair operates as the tip of an iceberg (for those familiar with that writing metaphor).

3. How has the BSFS helped you to grow as a writer?

One of the things the BSFS Critique Circle does that’s unique (so far as I’ve seen) is allowing each person to read their writing out loud, at the circle, and have it critiqued immediately after. I had never encountered any critique group that did this before I started attending, but I now believe this approach improves the quality of writer critiques. In my opinion, it’s in some ways superior to the traditional “read and comment ahead of time” model, even though it takes more time.

Rather than getting feedback from people who either read my piece weeks ago (and can’t remember some of their comments) or getting feedback from someone who rushed through all the pieces at the last minute (also not useful) getting feedback immediately after my critique partners have heard the piece gives me raw first impressions, which are very useful. It’s the same mindset as a reader who just read my book! The Critique Circle’s unique approach ensures each critiquer can take the time to give good feedback, and also allows me to dig deeper into feedback that I find useful before it’s forgotten.

So, the largest way the circle has helped me improve is simply by providing a sounding board for just about anything I bring in, catching all the little logic and plot points I miss and improving each story I write. It’s also a great way to see if the ideas I’m hoping to express are coming across—essentially, if the plot in my head is remotely clear on the page. Finally, I feel like I learn as much by critiquing the work of others as I do having my own work critiqued.

 4. What advice do you have for other writers?

Write, but more importantly, exchange critiques with writers who write the same genre as you do. I operated without a critique group for many years and I only reached what I consider a “professional” level in the last few years or so. I owe the majority of this progress to my great critique partners and feel a critique group is indispensable to a writer.

Part of this is because without constant critiques (especially as a relatively new writer) you have no way of knowing what’s working and what’s not. It’s like trying to learn to code without ever attempting to run your programs. You don’t even know if they work! You can spin your wheels forever and end up with stuff that simply isn’t publishable or interesting to anyone but you. That’s what I did for many years and what too many writers still do, so I believe writers should join a critique group as soon as they decide they want to write professionally.

Yes, critiquing can be painful at the start. I remember when I first joined my Texas critique group, it would hurt every time my critique partners pointed out all the ways my beautiful, perfect story wasn’t actually beautiful or perfect. Yet once I took their advice and saw how much the story improved, the discomfort of having places I could make my stories better changed to excitement about feedback that would allow me to make them great.

As a writer, think about critiques like this. Why wouldn’t you want your story to be the best story possible? Why not take advantage of the experience and knowledge of other writers to make your own work even more amazing? Once a writer stops seeing critiques as a comment on them or their writing ability, and instead sees them as free opportunities to make their writing and stories even more awesome, I think they’re on their way to writing what most consider “professional” quality stories.

5. You write in several categories of speculative fiction. Can you discuss any challenges or benefits to this approach?

In recent years I’ve actually been experimenting not only with different genres (sci-fi, fantasy, mystery) but also with different styles of writing. For example, my adventure fantasy (such as Glyphinder) has always been relatively reserved, like much of the fantasy I read growing up. My author’s voice was there, but in the background, with most of the focus remaining on presentation of characters and action… not distinctive flourishes of prose, odd sentence structure, or humor through word choice.

By comparison, in writing my recent paranormal mystery (which I’m currently shopping around) my style is far different, using conversational prose, run on sentences, sentence fragments, word-based humor, and all sorts of elements of my author’s voice to tell the story. I wrote it after expanding my reading list to genres I’d never touched before, like traditional mysteries and thrillers (the Jack Reacher books, by Lee Child, and John Grisham’s work are great examples). This opened up a whole new style of writing I’d never considered.

So, the advice I’d offer to any author in any genre is to read things you DON’T write. After I branched out into mainstream thrillers and mysteries and really paid attention to the author’s writing styles, I was able to develop an entirely different style of writing that’s just as fun and serves my stories in a different way. Some of this has bled over into my recent fantasy and sci-fi as well… while it may only appear in small doses, it adds unique flavor that simply wasn’t there before.

Terry Brooks (one of my favorite fantasy authors) and Lee Child (one of my favorite thriller authors) write *very* differently, yet both write great fiction. So I think the biggest advantage of reading and writing multiple genres is latching onto the best elements of each genre-specific approach, and using elements of all styles as necessary in your own writing regardless of genre.

Glyphbinder Kindle version is currently on sale for $0.99

Thanks, Eric, for your hints and insight and I wish everyone a wonderful Memorial Day weekend.

Love,

Sherri