My Owen…

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On June 13th, my 3 year old son, Owen passed away from a mysterious illness. We are still awaiting autopsy results to try and get an answer. Our hearts are broken and our lives are forever changed. It’s next to impossible to blog at the moment so I’ll leave you with the eulogy that I wrote for Owen and gave at his funeral. We love you, Owen. Ugga Mugga, Baby.

I know every parent says that their child is unique but i can tell you that Owen truly was. By 7 weeks old he was sleeping all the way through the night, much to the envy of other parents. For the first 2 and a half years of Owen’s life he didn’t even so much as catch a cold. He also didn’t learn to speak until he was nearly 3-again, this was the envy of many parents.
In his short time here, Owen taught us a great many things. For example, we learned that a brand new toy could be broken in less than two minutes flat.
Owen also taught us joy in simple moments like when he would jump on the couch like a trampoline or want to race around the yard. He taught us healing, especially after so many great losses in our family. He taught us love because there truly is no deeper love than the love a parent has for a child. Most of all, Owen taught us gratitude, especially for the little things like a cup of orange juice to start the day or jumping in a pile of fallen leaves.
When we realized that Owen was not going to make it, Mark and I looked at each other and first said, “We will get through this together.” and then we said, “We are so grateful for having known him. We were so lucky to have such a great kid.” So when you leave today I want you to take with you not the heavy hearts of sadness and despair but a heart full of gratitude and love. Be thankful for all that you have. Kiss your loved ones every day and tell them that you love them. Our broken hearts will never be whole again but the love and gratitude that we embrace here will help mend us until we meet Owen and our loved ones again.

The Return?

When I saw this article yesterday, I thought our old friend, The Jersey Devil, was back in town. Perhaps he heard that I was writing a story about him and wanted to check up on it. Perhaps he wanted revenge for some unknown slight. Well, it wasn’t The Jersey Devil but a runaway goat on the Pulaski Skyway. For those that are not aware of the Pulaski Skyway area, it’s an urban area that should NOT have a goat running around it…at all.

If it were JD, I’d hope that he’d be proud of my WIP so far. The story is about a girl who finds out that it is her destiny to be the one to banish The Jersey Devil from the woods of New Jersey. She reluctantly embraces her fate and, with the help of some local witches, faces off in an epic battle against the monster. I hope to post the first chapter here shortly for preview/opinions.

In the meantime, stay alert, watch your back and do go out alone-The Jersey Devil may be lurking….even on The Pulaski Skyway!

Jersey-Devil

What Ever Happened To Predictability?

What ever happened to predictability? The milkman, the paperboy, evening tv?

(Okay, I may be dating myself there with that reference but I couldn’t help myself.)

I recently finished up an outline for my next story. It’s about a girl whose chance reading with a psychic leads her to discover her true destiny is as the one person who was meant to banish the Jersey Devil forever. The momentary elation of finishing a solid outline was quickly eclipsed by my old friend, self-doubt. Self-doubt whispers to me that it is sure there are dozens of Young Adult Jersey Devils books and they are all way better than anything I could have possibly dreamed up. Self-doubt also told me that my characters were flat and the whole story was impossibly predictable. *sigh* Despite anything self-doubt tells me, I’m going to plow ahead with a first draft.

Can a story be predictable and still good? Are there any great, predictable stories?

Dare Greatly and Vulnerably

So I was watching Super Soul Sunday on the OWN network yesterday. Does anyone else watch it? I’m kind of obsessed. I miss my Oprah everyday but I enjoy her on Super Soul Sunday so much more than when she was on the talk show. Every show is about bettering yourself. I’m even doing the 21 Day Meditation Challenge with Oprah and Deepak Chopra! I really dig this bettering yourself stuff.

Anyway, yesterday Oprah was talking to Dr. Brene Brown who I was not familiar with prior to the episode. (First of all, Brene is a cool character name to keep in the ol’ back pocket) Dr. Brown has written a few books with the latest titled Daring Greatly (love that) and she became somewhat famous for her Ted Talk on vulnerability which you can see here. Very interesting stuff.

One thing that they discussed during the show was that “vulnerability was the cornerstone of courage”. So in order to be truly courageous, to really put yourself out there in the world, was to be vulnerable. I found that so interesting and what an important lesson for all the writers out there. In order to become successful, you have to become vulnerable. I think it’s so hard to do but probably some of the best advice I had heard in a long time.

Do you agree that you have to be vulnerable to be a better writer? How do you think being vulnerable has helped you? Has anyone read Dr. Brown’s work and if so, have you found it applicable to your writing life?

Write on!

Full Exposure

Here is the first chapter of my current Young Adult WIP: Full Exposure. I’m knee-deep in revisions so please be kind. If you see anything you like or don’t like, let me know. Feedback is greatly appreciated.

Write On!

CH.1

I walked outside into the cold March morning air and found myself looking squarely at the saggy naked butt of my neighbor Mr. Hendrickson. While this might be a shock to most people, I was no stranger to nudity. My family owns and operates Lyon’s Gate Nudist Camp (at least for now) and I grew up here, so the sight of a bare ass is not out of the ordinary. What is out of the ordinary though is why Mr. Hendrickson is out naked at 7am when it is barely 40 degrees.

I shrugged off my backpack and walked over towards him. “Mr. Hendrickson, it’s too cold to go without a coat today, you’ll freeze.”

“Ah, when I was in the war it was twice as cold as this. I nearly froze my balls off-with my clothes on!” He huffed. “This is nothin. I wanna get some bulbs in the ground for spring.”

“Did you take your medicine this morning, Mr. Hendrickson?”

“Who needs that stupid medicine? I always forget to take the damn things.”

I helped him back inside and he sat at the kitchen table while I got him a glass of water. Mr. Hendrickson was in the early stages of Alzheimer’s and he got confused a lot. He had no other family so we looked after him as much as possible, which was sometimes a lot of work. I gave him the water and he took his medicine.

“Now don’t go outside without a coat on today. It’s too cold. I’ll plant those bulbs for you later when I’m done with school.”

“Thanks, my boy.” He never called me Josh anymore.

I helped him to his recliner, turned on the news and gave him an afghan that was on the back of the couch. I hated to leave him and I could only hope that if he tried to go outside again, he’d be with-it enough to put on some clothes. I knew Mr. Hendrickson for a long time and he was like a grandfather to me. Always quick with a funny story or some life advice-now he hardly knew who I was. I worried about him while I was in school but some of the other regulars, the people who lived here year round, kept their eyes out for him too.

I said goodbye and headed out the door. Mrs. Rosenthal was picking up her newspaper next door to Mr. Hendrickson’s trailer.  Thankfully she had on a coat. I waved to her as I picked up my backpack. “Oh, Josh, I’m so glad I saw you this morning. I have something for you, don’t go anywhere. She shuffled back inside with her skinny old legs sticking out from under her white puffy coat, like two tooth picks in a marshmallow-two wrinkly old toothpicks. She came back holding a small bag and grinning ear to ear. “It’s a fresh pastrami sandwich. It’s the good stuff. My niece brought some from the city yesterday and I know how much you like it.”

“Thank you Mrs. Rosenthal, I appreciate it.” I smiled as I took the bag and shoved it in my backpack.  “Oh, can you keep an eye out from Mr. Hendrickson today? He didn’t take his medicine again and I found him out without a coat. I got him settled back inside now.”

“I will, Josh. Don’t worry about a thing.”

Easy for her to say.

“Thanks again.” I waved and headed off to the bus stop. I spent the ten minute ride on the bus just trying to warm up my body. The cold had permeated my shoes and I daydreamed about crawling back into my warm bed so I wouldn’t have to face the day. As the school came into view, you could almost hear the collective groan. Hill Top High, home of the peacocks, yup…the peacocks.

Brianna met me at my locker, as usual.

“So, how was your weekend? Clothes or no clothes involved?”

“Very funny, Bri. I had to help my parents do some landscaping maintenance so I guess you could say ‘no clothes’ although I was very fully clothed. You?”

“ Ugh, homework and tv-pretty lame weekend on all accounts, although the Teen Mom marathon was fun to watch.”

“Oh are you thinking of getting knocked up? I’m sure there are some guys here that are willing to be your baby daddy.” I said, looking around.

“Ohhh I will! I’d love a little baby. How cute are they to dress up?” Devin squealed as he came up to my locker.

“Devin, you’re gay.” Bri said back.

“Oh thanks, Captain Obvious. It doesn’t mean I can’t have a baby. My parts work just as well as any other guy’s. Probably better.” He smiled. “Besides, you’re not my type.”

“Because I have a vagina.”

“Among other things.”

Devin and Briana were my best friends. We’ve been a trio since freshman year when Bri and I found some guys trying to fight Devin after school. Luckily, Bri’s older brothers were football players and the guys recognized her and left Devin alone. We’ve been a team ever since and nobody has messed with Devin when Briana Gold was around.

The Gold’s were very well known at Hill Top. The two oldest brothers were practically legendary in our school. Frank was the school’s best quarterback and Dennis was the top wide receiver in the state his senior year.  Bri also has a twin brother, Michael, who is now the new quarterback and in the top of our class.

Bri is no girly girl but she’s not much into sports either, which makes her an outcast in her own family. Not only were all of her brothers athletes but her dad played college football and her mom played volleyball her whole life. Bri exists in her brothers’ shadows and it also allows her some protection of sorts. She’s off limits to bullies which makes us off limits too.

Devin is another story. His mom had him when she was nineteen and he grew up without a dad. He is also openly gay and wears his sexuality as a badge of pride. He once came to school completely decked out in head-to-toe rainbows for gay pride week. It looked like a box of Lucky Charms had exploded all over him. Devin loves to be outgoing and makes friends wherever we go but he also attracts a lot of hate. People fear what they don’t understand.

I understand about being an outcast, though not for my sexuality. Growing up in a nudist camp is not exactly the fastest way to make friends. It was hard to invite anyone over to play when their parents found out where I lived. I tried to explain that my parents would never be naked around them but people just didn’t get it. They think that we are all perverts or sex offenders. I checked that sex offender list online and not one person from the camp is registered. My mom always says that I would grow up a better person for having lived amongst nudists. At the time, I just wanted to have friends like everyone else but I’m starting to get it. I do believe I am better off, though my list of friends is still rather small.

I don’t practice nudity. Not that I’m against it, it’s just that my parents never forced it on me. As a kid, if I wanted to walk around with no clothes on, I did. If I wanted to have clothes on, I did. As I grew older, I preferred having clothes on so that’s how I stayed. Not everyone at the nudist camp goes naked. It’s just a lifestyle choice that they think it’s perfectly natural to be nude and nobody should be ashamed of their body. Mr. Hendrickson always said, “They’re just boobs and balls-we all got em!”

Devin and Bri were very understanding of my situation and the first time they came over to my house was an experience, to say the least. It was Memorial Day weekend and the camp had a huge barbeque for all of the returning summer guests. They got the full experience, if you know what I mean. Bri didn’t know where to look and Devin couldn’t stop looking. Once they got used to it, they figured out that these are just regular people having a good time with other like-minded people. Now they come for every barbeque.

“Don’t look now but Tyler Hunting is coming this way.” Bri warned. I braced myself. Tyler Hunting was the star of the soccer team and also the student body president, he acted like he ran the school and most people let him. He was also the son of town councilman Chip Hunting, who consistently filed complaints against the nudist camp for being “lewd and perverted” and “harboring pedophiles and sexual deviants.” They were a bunch of jerks and I wanted nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow them whole.

“Hey freaks.” He said as he walked past us, laughing with his buddies.

“Hey Tyler, I’m surprised you got the balls out of your mouth long enough to say hi. Good for you.” Devin answered. He had long ago gotten used to the slurs people flung at him and luckily he was just as quick with his words.

“Fuck you, you queen.” Tyler laughed.

“Nice comeback, did you stay up all night thinking of that one?” Devin fired back. Although it wasn’t the first time he’d been called a name, I know it still stung him despite his not showing it. Just as I was about to come to Devin’s defense, Bri’s brother, Mike, strolled up to us.

Mike was the epitome of cool. He was athletic, smart and funny but people liked him mostly because he acted modest-as modest as someone like him could be. He walked with confidence and even teachers gave him wide berth in the hallways. You could never find one person to say a bad word about Mike-except maybe Tyler.

“Hey guys. Hey Bri.” He said as he came up to us; his eyes glaring towards Tyler. No words were spoken between them, but Tyler got the message.

“I’ll see you at the meeting.” He sneered and walked away.

“Bri, can you tell mom that I’m gonna be late today? I have practice after school.”

“Ugh. Why can’t you tell her, dork?” Bri teased.

“Because you’re my stupid little sister and have to do what I say, dweeb.” Mike teased her back.

“I’m only younger by 4 minutes-god! Fine, I’ll let her know but you better help me with my Algebra when you get home.”

“Deal. Later guys!” Mike smiled at us and continued down the hall.

“I’ll never understand your relationship. I’m glad I don’t have any siblings.” Devin said. We walked towards our first period. Bri and I had Biology together and Devin had gym which he usually found an excuse to miss.

“What time is the meeting tomorrow night? I want to make sure my calendar is clear.” Bri asked.

“It starts at 6:30. Do you guys want to come with me and my parents? We’re leaving around 6.”

They agreed and we went off to our classes, although I suspected Devin was headed to the nurse with some excuse to get out of dressing for gym. Bri and I took our seats in Biology and Mr. Hanger, our teacher, got right down to business. He stood in front of the class, arms stretched wide and said in his nasally voice, “Alright, now I’m a star fish…” This elicited lots of muffled laughter from the other students and normally I would be just as amused; the teachings of Mr. Hanger were well known for their unintentional humor.

Instead of joining in the fun or paying attention, I couldn’t stop thinking about the meeting tomorrow night. This town council meeting was yet another chance for Chip Hunting to try to formally close our camp. He had been trying to shut it down on and off for half of my life. For whatever reason, he felt morally superior to us and since winning his position as a town councilman, he has mercilessly pursued closing down Lyon’s Gate.

In the early days, nobody paid him any mind because people liked us and our residents never bothered anyone with their lifestyle choice. Recently though, a nudist camp in Florida was forced to close because some news show found a group of child molesters taking refuge there. That got people talking around here and Mr. Hunting happily fanned the flames of distrust. His quest has picked up momentum as news trickled out about how those child molesters lived there as unregistered sex offenders while the camp owners were paid to keep quiet.

It has been tough for my parents and the few residents that live there year round. My parents make the bulk of their business in the summer and, so far, bookings have been down. People are afraid, and rightfully so, as most folks don’t take the time to get to know each other before they judge. We are trying to get as many supporters together to go to the meeting but there is no guarantee that it will help. We have to wait to see what the board will rule.

The only thing that could rouse me from my preoccupation of the upcoming meeting was Allison Lawson. Ahh, Allison Lawson. She was unbelievably gorgeous and unbelievably unattainable. Allie, as her friends called her, was part of the crowd that ran with Tyler Hunting, public enemy number one. She was smart, the school treasurer, and played on the girls soccer team; not my type at all but that didn’t stop me from being in love with her since the 6th grade.

I watched her now as she stretched down to get something out of her backpack. Her brown hair hung straight and long, nearly touching the ground as she leaned over. She sat close enough that sometimes, if the windows were open and the breeze blew just right, I would sometimes get a whiff of her apple scented perfume.

I was lost in one of my many daydreams about me and Allie Lawson. You know, the ones where we run to each other on the beach or run to each other across the Brooklyn Bridge or just run to each other in any place and time. Mr. Hanger interrupts my thoughts with one of his starfish questions. He is pointing to the diagram of one on the board and I had no idea what the questions was. I froze. All of a sudden, like the angels whispered from heaven, Bri says “Tube feet”, almost inaudibly. “Tube feet.” I answer. Placated, Mr. Hanger returns to his lecture.

I let out a sigh of relief, turned to Bri and mouthed the words “Thank you” to her. Once again, Bri comes to my rescue and I am reminded that I will be forever indebted to her. The bell rang and we gathered our stuff.  “Will you take a payment of my first born child?” I asked her.

“What are you talking about?” She said.

“You always seem to swoop in and save my butt and I never have anything to offer you so will you take the promise of my first born and call it even?”

“You’re nuts, but I’ll consider it; I am always saving your butt. Speaking of butts, I wouldn’t have to save you so much if you weren’t so busy staring at Allie Lawson’s butt. Geez, you were practically eye-humping her!”

I rolled my eyes and kept walking. I wasn’t going to have another conversation about Allie with Bri; she just didn’t get it. To be honest, I couldn’t explain my fascination with Allie either but could you really explain love? Could Romeo and Juliet explain their love? Okay, bad example, but I knew that conversation wouldn’t get us anywhere, so I dropped it and hoped she did too.

The rest of the day was pretty normal. I went back and forth between daydreaming about Allie and fantasizing about ways to destroy Tyler and tried to keep my mind off of the meeting tomorrow. By the time I boarded the bus for the ride home, I looked forward to the distraction of having to help Mr. Hendrickson plant bulbs. Anything I could do to keep my mind off it all was a welcome diversion.

Stay Connected.

First, apologies for the length of time between posts. My computer cord died and it took a while to get a new one. I was computer-less for almost two weeks so, obviously, I got nothing done.

I recently read this interview with Scott Avett of The Avett Brothers and if you don’t know them, you should! Anyway, Scott is a musician who tours frequently and when he’s not doing that, he is an accomplished painter and father of two. What I found interesting in the article was how he talked about staying connected to his art even while going about his daily life. He tries to integrate it with everything he does during the day. I need to figure out how to do this.

My life isn’t particularly crazy. I have a lot of the normal issues that most people have. Two kiddies, who have been sick nonstop this winter, a husband, a home with a mortgage and all that comes along with that, some pain from recent dental work-nothing too stressing. But even I have a really hard time staying connected to my creative self. After spending the day dealing with my 3 year old and 1 year old, I’m spent. My mind is so tired that trying to write feels impossible. As it is, it took me almost the entire day to write this short post.

Do you have the same issues? Are there techniques or daily rituals that you do to stay connected? If you feel creative most of the day, please tell me your secret!!

I’ve included some Avett Brothers that I You-Tubed to help put you in the creative mood(Head Full of Doubt is my fav but Laundry Room definitely helps get the creativity going):

Avettcarpenter

AvettHeadFullofDoubt

AvettLaundryRoom

(p.s. I don’t own any of the video content, I’m just a fan and spreading the love via You Tube…don’t sue me)

Write On!

Storyboarded

Just ran across this interview with author Jo Knowles on Debbie Ridpath Ohi’s website. I really like the way she explains her storyboarding technique and I think it’s a good way to go, especially after reverse outlining your manuscript. Even if you aren’t creating a picture book, it’s good to know where your story stands visually. I always feel like if it won’t make for a good scene in a movie, then it might not make for a good scene in a book. I look forward to exercising my stick-figure drawing skills!

Happy Writing (and revising)!

 

 

Here’s the long form if the above link doesn’t work:

http://inkygirl.com/inkygirl-main/2013/2/8/interview-with-jo-knowles-on-writing-process-writer-advice-s.html

I’m a Half Plotter, Half Pantser.

This post by Writer’s Digest came at just the right time for me. I have recently been staring at my computer screen  revising my story and it has been slow going to say the very least. I’m not a very enthusiastic reviser. In fact, I keep finding other things to do with my valuable writing time. Some fun (catching up with the new season of Girls) and some bordering on tragic (cleaning my bathroom).

Just a few weeks ago I was telling my husband that I had the urge to storyboard my manuscript as a way to revise. In college I had studied film and television and we often used storyboards for creating our projects. While I thought it was a decent idea, it also seemed so daunting to storyboard the entire story. I’m not a great artist but even sketching out rough stick figures would take forever.

My husband then sent me an article about reverse outlining, which is outlining after you write your story. Perfect, I thought, except part of me still wanted to storyboard. Well in this article, the author uses storyboarding BUT only uses about 20 squares or enough to cover each chapter. They only put the most pivotal moment of each chapter on the storyboard. Well, duh! I could do that!

Sometimes you just need somebody else’s perspective to help fix your own dilemmas. So, are you a plotter or a pantser? I usual start as a pantser and then plot as I go along.

http://www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/guide-to-literary-agents/jan-29

Lucky # 13 Contest

Check out this awesome free contest through Writer’s Digest. It is open to YA and SciFi writers and looks pretty straight forward and did I mention it’s FREE! I love anything that’s free, so much so that my husband hates when I take a walk through the neighborhood on garbage night-there’s no telling what I might bring home. Anyway, best of luck to all of you though I am secretly (or not so secretly) hoping I’m the lucky winner.

Here’s the link:

http://tinyurl.com/a8msdw2

If that doesn’t work, try this one:

 

http://www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/guide-to-literary-agents/13th-free-dear-lucky-agent-contest-young-adult-and-sci-fi

Not So Secret Agent Advice

I’m not near this point in my career but this article caught my eye and had some good tips for when I will be looking for representation. Do agents really ask you to get 8X10 glossies? That’s ridiculous. Although handing them some horrific glamour shots would be pretty funny.
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/09/19/writer-tips-literary-agents_n_1894543.html?ncid=edlinkusaolp00000003

I think the biggest thing is to do your research before you submit queries. Google is there for a reason! I Google the hell out of everything. Has anyone already started or gone through this process? What have you encountered?