The Serious Girl's Halloween Costume

TOTORO

'Cause it was awesome.

Note to self...

Next time you make a commitment to read at least a book a week for a year, maybe you shouldn't read so many books at the same time. And maybe also read shorter books.

Shown:

• The Very Picture of You, by Isabel Wolff (fiction, for my library book club)
• Under the Dome, by Stephen King (fiction, on sale for A DOLLAR, that's like 0.1 cents per page)
• If I Loved You, I Would Tell You This, by Robin Black (short stories, on loan from the Grub Street library)
• Sex at Dawn, by Christopher Ryan & Cacilda Jethá (non-fiction)
• Negotiating With the Dead: A Writer On Writing, by Margaret Atwood (non-fiction)
• John Dies at the End, by David Wong (fiction)
• My Mother She Killed Me, My Father He Ate Me, edited by Kate Bernheimer (short stories)
• Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway, by Susan Jeffers (self-help, and I'm only a little embarrassed to be reading it)

Not shown (reading on Kindle):

• Zone One, by Colson Whitehead (fiction)
• The Diamond Age, by Neal Stephenson (fiction)
• Super Sad True Love Story, by Gary Shteyngart (fiction)

So, what are you reading? I need more suggestions because obviously this just isn't enough.

Write fast.

Write so fast, your inner editor can't catch you.

-- Carrie Kei Heim Binas

Thus ends the second-half-of-November inspirational-quote marathon. If you're still doing NaNoWriMo, WHAT ARE YOU DOING ONLINE?!?!!? GO WRITE!

You have a million excuses.

Card by Book Architecture.

You say it's your birthday

Hooray! I'm so glad to see you! Did you come back for my party? We'll be posting photos of ourselves at age sixteen, talking about the good old days... or maybe chatting about how we would rather die than be 16 again and how we in fact have very high hopes for age 37... or is that just me?

So, did you bring your photo? It's okay if you didn't, but if you did, I've created a Shutterfly account JUST FOR US to use today: of course, if you want to post your photo on your own blog, or in an existing online photo album, and then put the link in the comments, that's totally fine. But, if you don't have any place like that already set up, you can just log in to Shutterfly using the email [deleted for security]. I've already got a few photos in there just for this "event."

Now, before you see my sixteen-year-old photo, here are a few disclaimers:

1. Turns out, we actually can't confirm my age in these photos. Sorry about that. I might be 17 in these. And the ones with short hair in the Shutterfly album might be from when I was as young as 15. Close enough, right?


2. My mom took these photos.


3. Some of you may remember that I used to be a child actor. Accordingly, these photos are actually part of a series of headshots my mom took for me to use professionally.


4. My mom was semi-professional. These disclaimers are actually not to explain why the photos look bad. They're to explain why the photos look good.

Yes, yes, there are dozens of high school photos where I look like crap. There were ill-advised haircuts. There's that charming group photo in my high school year book where I didn't realize that my shirt was basically see-through with the light behind me... and there's nothing to see. There are the photos where I've tilted my head down and given myself a double-chin. But it's my birthday. I feel like looking good today.

This may be my favorite photo taken of me, ever. Would it be wrong to use it as my author photo, given that it's two decades out-of-date?

Okay! Wish me a happy birthday! Post photos! I'm off to find myself some cake.

Autumn Rhythm (Number 30)

Happy Halloween from me and The Serious Girl.

There Are No Words.

Neil Gaiman. Me. Amanda Palmer.

In that order.

It was probably a few weeks ago that tickets for ART's production of Cabaret starring Amanda Palmer went on sale. Shortly after that, I saw Neil Gaiman tweet that he'd gotten a couple VIP tickets for himself. And I may have tweeted this, and may have just thought it... "I'd spring for a VIP ticket if it meant I got to see Neil Gaiman on top of getting to see the show. Anyone know which night(s) he's going?"

And then the thought went out of my head. I tried to schedule a night to buy a regular ticket, but Husband has been doing lots of traveling for work, and Serious Girl has not been amused by my attempts to find babysitters other than her beloved nanny (who now has another family as her priority), and it just never came together. The show sold out, and I was S.O.L.

Naturally, I was disappointed, because Cabaret is one of my favorite musicals. First of all, I am a fool for the really dark and disturbed musicals (see also Sweeney Todd). But I also took "Broadway Dance" classes at Crunch Gym in NYC during my first year as a practicing attorney; in these classes, the gym hired Broadway dancers to teach the stage choreography for the shows they were currently in. As a result, I actually learned the Broadway routines for "Don't Tell Mama" and "Mein Herr." So, I love this show because part of my brain insists that I've actually performed this number, yes, I am one of you, cabaret dancers, and life is beautiful.

Ahem.

Then, on Monday, Neil tweeted that he had two VIP tickets for sale for Wednesday night, first come, first serve. After some frantic texting and emailing, it turned out that our nanny COULD babysit that night, and wait, even better, Husband's overnight trip was postponed and so he could just stay home with Serious Girl if I wanted to go out that night, and HOLY CRAP the ticket is still available, YES, I will buy it, MINE, The Precious... ssss... ssssssss...

Ahem.

So I got to go to the show. And I got to say hi and thanks-for-the-ticket to Neil during intermission. (Turns out his daughter and his assistant both bought tickets for the same show, and obviously he was going to sit with his daughter, so the tickets his assistant bought are the ones that became available at the last minute.) And because it was a VIP ticket, I got a free drink and an awesome little swag bag. And then I got to hang out and chat with Amanda and the other 3 VIP ticket-holders after the show. During which time Neil got me another drink. And then I got to meet the two women who were going to GET MARRIED ONSTAGE during the late-night cabaret after-show. Here, I took photos:

Rosalie is in red, Sarah is in black.

Punk cabaret lesbian wedding, can I get a HELL YEAH?

No exchange of rings, just clasping hands.

Brides.

Newlyweds.

Congratulations, ladies!

It was amazing.

And after all that, I was finally able to grab both Neil and Amanda at the same time for a photo in a manner that I hope did not disrupt their night (because, dude, she was running a show, and he was with his daughter, I was SO OBVIOUSLY not their priority) and Neil's daughter Holly took the picture, and it came out great even though she had to use the flash... and then, even though it meant I had to miss the second half of the late-night cabaret, I ran home before I could turn into a pumpkin.

And that, honey, is why I didn't make it home until after midnight. And why I was barefoot with my shoes in a pink swag bag. Thank you for understanding how awesome this was for me.

And of course Amanda's performance as the Emcee was spectacular -- although I have to say I think the actor who played Fraulein Schneider was the best of the evening. He was heart-breaking and mind-blowing and there are no words.

Okay, apparently I lied. That was a LOT of words. But I still fall short of describing it all.

The Art of Anticipation

Before I say anything substantive about last night's Grub Street class, I would like to thank our instructor, Hallie Ephron, and my classmates for being so patient and kind with me... and with Serious Girl. I actually brought Serious Girl to class with me last night, because Husband was in South Dakota overnight, and I was unable to line up any of the babysitters SG trusts (it's not a long list).

So, from 7-9:30pm, SG sat on my coat in the corner of the classroom, eating dinner and watching The Backyardigans on the iPad. In this (intentionally) dark and low-res photo, you can see her holding one headphone to her ear, while holding her spoon with the other. There are two stuffed Backyardigans along the wall, and she's actually under a large easel. Class went until 10pm, but I decided not to push my luck or SG's bedtime any further and left at 9:30, taking the last writing assignment home with me.

Serious Girl, you were a nearly silent all evening, and you were a ROCK STAR. Hallie and my fellow students, thank you so much for giving us a chance and I hope we never disturbed your class experience.

So! Last night's class was called Writing Suspense. I am simply going to share some of Hallie's insights in bullet-point form:

• Suspense is the potential that something bad is going to happen. When something bad actually happens, that's not suspense, that's conflict or action.


• Suspense often involves taking ordinary objects and imbuing them with a sense of menace.


• Suspense requires a clear sense of scene (time, place, etc.) because you cannot build suspense if the reader isn't grounded.


• Suspense requires the laying of groundwork... if the reader doesn't have the critical information before the moments of tension, it's not suspense, it's surprise. As a writer, chances are you won't know what this critical information is until you've written the key scenes. That's what editing is for: go back and put that gun in the closet, that cell phone in the hospital room, that cliff near where the car chase will eventually happen.


• Explanation ruins tension, which is another reason why the writer must provide any critical information and/or backstory before the suspenseful scenes, not during them.


• Suspense can often be created by giving the reader information that the characters don't have (although some people can't read this kind of story at all).


• The writer must raise the stakes so that characters will do things no normal person would. You know how you scream at the movie screen for characters in a horror flick not to go down to the basement? Make it so that the reader understands why the hero has no choice but to go into that basement.

Suspense and tension can be built through slowing the pace, creating a vivid sensory setting, putting the reader side-by-side with the character in peril (the "closeup" camera angle), juxtaposing the innocent with the unnerving, having the critical elements already established, and raising the stakes.

Suspense and tension can be eased by action, the anticipated bad thing actually happening (the payoff), something unexpected but harmless happening (the false payoff), humor, distancing the reader from the story (the "long shot" camera angle), summarizing or cutting away from the scene, or providing back story in the scene.

This class was a delight, and I'm picking up a copy of Hallie Ephron's Never Tell A Lie today. Hallie also authored Writing and Selling Your Mystery Novel, which a mystery-writing crit partner of mine recommends most highly.

Any suspense-writers here? What are your favorite techniques? Or, like me, do you just like the have the occasional moment of reader anticipation thrown in? What are your favorite suspense books?

Editing Hits the Wall

One of my current WIPs

Many, many weeks ago, I took an excellent intensive course at Grub Street, entitled "From Revision to Submission."

Intended for the writer who needs a final push to submit their work, this class provides one last objective look to make certain that the writer is in the best possible position for publication. The first half of the class will be a revision workshop, focusing on the art of sanding down, smoothing out, and touching up the writing. The second half will help students discuss and find markets for their work. The last class will partially be devoted to assembling submissions and celebrating finished pieces.

The instructor was James Scott, who among other things is an editor at One Story, which is possibly the best lit mag out there right now, I think. The man knows his stuff, is what I'm saying here. He especially was a good instructor for me, because he has a natural instinct for plot and structure, where as I am more of a language-and-character writer, finding structure rather challenging.

So I am here today to share with you the single best piece of editing advice I got from the class: cut and paste, and stick it on the wall.

See that photo up there? That's a 20-page short story, which has been cut-and-pasted by scene (yes, actual scissors and tape, not computer-clicking) and spread out on the wall. I pasted certain scenes higher or lower based on the focus of each scene -- Character #1's POV was the baseline, omniscient narrator POV went slightly lower, Character #2's POV was taped slightly higher. Jim writes a lot of flashbacks, so he tends to tape sections higher or lower based on whether a scene is in the present or past. You may think of other ways to use the vertical as well as the horizontal.

Step back. Take a look. What do you see?

When I looked at the short story in that photo, I saw a lot of imbalance. Okay, it makes sense for that fourth scene to be super-short, because it's really just a teaser/introduction to the second character's POV, but the sixth scene is crazy long. Especially if the fifth scene is also that long... I want the narrator POV and 2nd character POV scenes to be places the reader can catch his or her breath in the story, and if scenes 5 and 6 are back-to-back enormous, that just won't happen. Scene 6 needs to be cut into at least 2 parts.

And look how front-loaded the story is! Scenes 3, 5, 6, and maybe 8 are the long ones, and then it's short-short-short all in a row at the end. No wonder the damn thing feels like it ends abruptly. Now, I already knew there were some plot elements that needed to be added to the story towards the back third, so some of those additions were already planned, but now it's even more obvious where this extra information has to go.

Depending on the nature of your story, you may also want to highlight sections. Is your dialogue evenly spaced throughout the story, or weirdly clumped in the center? Is your action where you thought it would be? Jim showed us one of his works-in-progress, and we saw that all the flashback was up front -- not good. The reader will want to know who everyone is and what the stakes are before they start dipping into reminiscences. How else will the reader know WHY those reflective moments are important?

Now, just because I'm talking in terms of balance of course does not mean that the story needs to be totally even throughout. Maybe the action really does belong all at the end. Maybe the story should start with all long sections and get increasingly tighter as the tale progresses. Only you know what your story needs, but this is a very good way to figure out what your story is already doing. They might not be the same thing, and sometimes it's just too hard to see the forest for the trees on the computer screen.

Jim swears that he's sold every story that has gotten this revision treatment. We'll see how my story fares when I'm done with it...

DO YOU HAVE A FAVORITE EDITING TECHNIQUE?

I Should Be...

I am the show notes writer for Mur Lafferty's amazing podcast, I Should Be Writing. I am also several shows behind. Which means that yesterday I started listening to a nearly six-hour backlog. I'm here to officially apologize for my failure to prioritize this work sooner, because I think Mur's podcast is a truly wonderful resource for writers, especially writers who are still learning the craft. (And if you think you've got it all figured out, she has interviews with people like Neil Gaiman.)

I was going to write more about Mur's genius, but Serious Girl just woke up from her nap, it's 4pm, and we have no groceries in the house, so we're going to have to go shopping if we want to eat dinner. SO! Please go check out ISBW. Because ISBAISBW (I Should Be Assisting I Should Be Writing. Like the t-shirt says.)

ALSO! Episode #146 starts with a hilarious "I Should Be Writing" anthem, and then at about 24 minutes in, there is the additionally hilarious song "George R.R. Martin is Not Your Bitch" based on Neil Gaiman's now-famous blog post on reader entitlement. Go listen: George R.R. Martin is Not Your Bitch on John Anealio's SciFi Songs website, and also in YouTube format (fan-posted).

Conversations with my family

Conversation #1:

Husband: Serious Girl, what do you want to be when you grow up?
Serious Girl: I don't know.
Husband: Well, you could be an astronaut, or a doctor...
Serious Girl: A doctor!
Husband: Yeah! Or a writer, or a fire fighter...
Serious Girl: I want to be a writer.
Husband: What are you going to write?
Serious Girl: I don't know.
Husband: Are you going to write stories?
Serious Girl: Yeah!
Husband: What kind of stories are you going to write?
Serious Girl: Stories about elevators and toys.
Me: Serious Girl, did you know that you really can do that? There are some really famous and wonderful stories about exactly that -- elevators and toys.
Serious Girl: Also, I want to be a turtle.

Conversation #2:

[Husband finishes telling Serious Girl the story of Pandora's Box.]

Husband: Serious Girl, do you know what that story's about?
Serious Girl: Did everything get away and go way up in the air?
Husband: Yes. But really, it's about telling girls what to do. Every culture has some story that tries to tell girls that they shouldn't be smart or curious. You should be both. You should open every box.
Serious Girl: Really?
Husband: Really. You see, it was a trick. The gods would have let out all those bad things anyway, but they wanted to blame it on Pandora. Never do what you're told just because someone else says you have to. It's up to you to figure out the right things to do.
Serious Girl: Really?
Husband: Really. Can I have a smooch?
Serious Girl: Of course.

A Day in the Life, w/o nanny assistance

All will be explained in time.

6:00am: Wake up because Serious Girl has woken and is asking for more music. Restart album of lullabies on dedicated iPod in her room, go back to bed hoping she will let the whole album play without complaint so I can get the whole half hour additional sleep.

7:30am: Wake up again. Miracle! Serious Girl actually went back to sleep too! Start morning with Serious Girl: hugs, potty, milk.

8:00am: Move through house cleaning up and removing tempting fragile items from within reach of those who are toddler-height; Serious Girl is responsible, but we are hosting her playgroup today, and I do not know how responsible the other five 3-year-olds are. Move SG's play stove, food, and table & chairs into living room for "kitchen/restaurant" play. Get SG dressed. Realize I have totally forgotten to feed SG breakfast, provide blueberries and toast at last minute.

9:00am-11:00am: Playgroup. Kids entertain themselves primarily with toy kitchen area, SG's dollhouse, and SG's extensive supply of toy cars. Some disagreements over who is allowed to play with the stuffed Backyardigans, and when, and how. Snack of blueberries, peaches, and string cheese is devoured by all. Other moms/nannies are awesome about helping to clean up when they leave, and certain parts of the house end up cleaner than when the guests arrived.

11:15am: Final farewells to guests. SG plays patiently (read: relieves the sofa of all its cushions, builds mountainous pile of pillows, takes flying leaps from former onto latter) while I check email. Lunch! Mom & daughter chores -- taking down the trash and recycling, putting away clean dishes, etc. -- and settling down for nap.

12:30pm: Paperwork and writing while SG naps: completing forms for preschool, signing up for "toddler tumbling" gymnastics, writing and submitting short non-fiction piece, submitting two short fiction pieces. Email best writer-friend, indulge in complaints about writing, parenting, how much more sleep we need, and how damn old we are. Check to make sure chicken in fridge is still edible, rejoice when expiration date is days away: no trip to the grocery today.

2:30pm: SG is awake! Hang out together listening to music, then get up for milk. Finish some of my work on the computer while SG plays patiently (read: sits quietly with some stuffed toys in her lap, oh crap, she's probably coming down with something). Off to kitchen: prepare dinner while SG eats raisins. Peel & slice potatoes, season potatoes & chicken. SG says she has to do some work, drags stool over to kitchen computer, turns it on, opens Twitter, sends out some status updates. Clean up lunch dishes. Check flight information, realize Husband doesn't get home until midnight, probably could have gotten away with cooking a smaller meal.

3:30pm: Pressed into singing Jim Croce songs by SG. Finish obsessive email checking, ask SG if she wants to go to the pool. SG says yes, but we have to wear our cowboy hats first. Pack for pool while wearing hats.

4:00pm: Arrive at gym, get changed for pool, climb pool stairs, informed halfway up that pool is closed because someone threw up in it. It will take an hour to clean, at which time kiddie swim will be over and we will not be allowed in pool even if we wanted to. SG takes news with grace and aplomb; spend next hour in empty yoga studio, stretching and playing with the giant yoga balls.

5:30pm: Arrive home, told to put cowboy hats back on. Put dinner in oven, tell SG she can watch cartoons while I work. Cartoons refuse to play on any computer except the one I was planning to work on. Promise eventually fulfilled to SG; nothing else accomplished during cartoon time except checking email on iPod. Call Husband during layover in TX. Inexplicably, SG starts sobbing hysterically and saying that I can't call Husband. Husband does not answer phone. SG is inconsolable, does not want to talk to Daddy, does not want me to talk to Daddy. Phone rings: it's Daddy. SG leaps to answer phone, has lovely chat with Daddy. Take SG's temperature after phone call. She normally reads quite low, but now is 99.4 degrees: SG is definitely coming down with something. SG begs for me to read a book, ends up ignoring me and playing with Han Solo and Boba Fett action figures instead (see photo).

7:00pm: Dinner. Books.

8:00pm: Getting ready for bed. Books. Ritual bedtime kisses and farewells.

9:00pm: Album of lullabies ends, SG asks for more music. Return to her bedroom, re-tuck her in, remind her we only play the album once at bedtime. Ritual bedtime kisses and farewells.

9:15pm: Back to computer. Until husband gets home (scheduled arrival at Logan airport, 11:43pm), there will be writing, paperwork, Twitter, further emails to best writer-friend, and general kitchen clean-up. Make mental note to buy more Diet Coke.

9:25pm: SG sobs hysterically for me to fix her covers. Return to bedroom, tell her of course I'll fix them, she doesn't need to cry. SG: "I'm not crying. I'm just screaming a little bit." Tuck SG back in, ritual bedtime kisses and farewells. Back to computer. Lather, rinse, repeat...

Things I Realized in France (part 2): FOCUS

Enjoying a beer at 8:15am in Arles

These observations obviously may not apply to everyone in France (and maybe even the people we stayed with act differently in the absence of visitors), but:

People multi-task less in France, which means that their focus is less diluted. Meals are not eaten while writing emails at a desk. Businesses close for lunch, and the only multi-tasking that happens over meals is conversation. The internet is not constantly open in people's homes. Checking email twice in one day on a Blackberry made us appear to be obsessed with work when indeed we considered ourselves to be rather fully checked-out from the workplace. Email is still like regular mail: a letter is a letter, and replies need not be instantaneous. Laptops stayed closed for days rather than being constantly left open (although perhaps hibernated) with two email programs, Twitter, and three blogs open (the state of my current machine-in-use).

I think this may be a better way to live. I'm going to try to be constantly-online less, but respond personally more. And I'm going to take actual lunch breaks instead of snarfling food in front of a computer monitor. (We've already tried to cut down on the dinner-in-front-of-the-tv habit. We don't always win, but at least we try, or we pick a worthy movie instead of doing it thoughtlessly.)

Oops. The kid's awake from from her nap. Gotta go give her my full attention.

;-)

WHAT DO YOU WISH YOU FOCUSED ON MORE?

Things I Realized in France (part 1)

I don't describe places in my fiction.

I mean, I do, to the extent that a character is observing something s/he finds relevant, but I haven't ever written one of those panoramic scenes where the locale is described ever-so-vividly to the reader.

My first novel is set in New York City, where I grew up. As a result, I never worked to describe the city in which my characters work and live and play. For me, Manhattan simply is. It's a city, like any other. Sometimes the bustle of the streets or the interior design of an office building lobby or the particular content of a neon sign stands out for my main character, and when it does, the reader sees what she sees, notices what she notices. But do I spend any time actively describing New York City in the novel? No. I didn't think it was relevant.

And then I spent a day in Paris.

How on earth would I even BEGIN to describe Paris? The profusion of architectural detail alone is staggering. Sure, I could describe any one individual landmark if it was integral to the plot, but what if it's incidental to the story? How would I handle the fact that you can pass Notre Dame, the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, and about three dozen other incredible bridges, sculptures, and buildings of great antiquity and beauty within a single 2-hour walk? I can't describe it all without bogging down the story, but neither can I gloss over it entirely, writing as if it's not there at all...

This will require some serious pondering. And I may have to write a story set in Paris just to figure it out. ACK!

WHAT IS ONE THING YOU THINK YOU DON'T DO (or don't do with natural ease) IN YOUR WRITING?

(And, sorry for the delay in posting what should have been a Wednesday post. Computer issues up the wazoo over here.)

Mother's Day Thanks

Thank you to my daughter for taking a nap RIGHT NOW (and most days around this time) so I can blog, write, make calls, and maybe even rest myself.

Thank you to my husband for being on toddler-duty ALL LAST WEEKEND so I could spend 9 hours per day at the Muse & the Marketplace conference.

Thank you to my mom. You know when agents say, "we don't care if your mom likes your book, she's your MOM and has to like it?" Yeah. That's not my mom. My mom doesn't have to like anything she doesn't want to. She was a brutal critic of mine when I was growing up, which is why no authority figures (teachers, employers, etc.) have ever held any fear for me. BRING IT, rejection letters. My mom was giving me solid critiques on my writing when I was SIX.

Thank you to the other writer-moms on the internet who blog about it (Jody Hedlund and Sandy Raymond are just two of many who spring to mind) and struggle with the balance openly so that the rest of us don't feel so alone.

Thank you. And HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!

CONTEST and random photo

Told ya.

Okay, everyone, this is the LAST DAY to enter my contest! For those who might be new here because a fellow blogger or Twitterer sent you over: I'm Carrie, a recovering attorney / former child actor / mom of a three-year-old who wrote a women's lit novel. Feel free to check out my writing online, and see what work I did as an actress. I'm two degrees of separation from Kevin Bacon. That about covers it.

Okay! Here is a recap of the contest details:

What are the rules? Well, this one's gonna be easy. No genre-blending, worst first lines, or flash fiction writing requirements. This time, I'm going for the followers. You know how it goes: you get points for following me on this blog and/or on Twitter, extra points for referring people directly and/or for passing on word about my contest on your own blog or Twitter account. I'll put the specific details at the bottom of the post.

What's the occasion? On April 15th (TOMORROW), it will be the one-year anniversary of the day I sent out my first-ever query letter for my novel.

What's the prize? I will be giving away a copy of Steve Almond's amazing self-published chapbook, This Won't Take But A Minute, Honey. Thirty flash fiction stories on one side, then you flip the book over and get thirty short essays on the craft of writing on the other side. The stories are good, no question... but these essays, people, are GENIUS. It's an MFA program in the palm of your hand. You need this book. I will ALSO be giving away my amazing secret fudge recipe, which has only ever been shared with winners of charity auctions and/or my blog contests.

Please also note that the book that I'm giving away has been SIGNED by the author. He doesn't know your name, but he knows what you need to hear, and he inscribed it just for you.

RULES:

• You must comment on THE CONTEST blog post to be entered. That gets you +1 point.
• You get +2 points for being a blog follower.
• You get +1 point for having commented on my blog at any point before today. (I wanted to reward those who've been with me for a while, but was afraid I'd lose track of which people are new blog followers and which are already following as of this writing. So, I'm rewarding participation instead.)
• You get +1 point for following me on Twitter.
• You get +1 point if you've retweeted me or my blog at any point before today.
• You get +1 point for Tweeting about this contest/retweeting this post.
• You get +2 points for blogging about this contest.
• You get +1 point if someone writes in their comment that YOU are the reason they found out about this blog/contest. (Please do give credit if you were referred here by someone! It doesn't lower your chances that much, really.) You can get unlimited extra points this way.
• You can obviously un-follow me again at the close of the contest, but I'm really quite amusing, and I'm sure you'll want to stick around.

And you don't need to provide links as proof -- just tell me how many points you get and how you calculated it when you post your comment. I will check up on the winner to make sure that person's points were all honestly claimed; if I find out you didn't really earn one of the points that you said you did, you will be disqualified, and I'll pick another winner.

Please, please, go blog & tweet and all that good stuff.

Serious Girl Turns 3

S.G. and her party guests watching a fire truck

We had the party yesterday, but at precisely 11:16am this morning, my daughter (the one in the chef's hat) will turn 3 years old. So, I'm off to help her watch cartoons and bake cookies. See y'all tomorrow!

Can't blog. Writing.

You guys are fabulous, thank you SO much for the boost yesterday!

So, today is insane. We had a toddler playdate this morning, I'm going to the Grub Gone... Blue event tonight, and I just found a bunch of documents on backup discs (3.5" floppies, remember those?) that I had thought were lost forever, and I'm writing, and we're late taking Serious Girl to school, and... ACK!

Back on Monday. In the meantime, please enjoy this photo of the pet chinchilla I had in college. Her name was Kenga. Who else has had a weird pet? "Normal" pets with weird personalities TOTALLY count.

Shiny Tiara Power

Yep. That's a tiara on my head. Wanna make something of it?

Mur Lafferty rocks my world.

Seriously, if you want to write fiction, and you're not listening to Mur's I Should Be Writing podcast, then I'm just convinced you're not really trying. It's like the best blog ever, but in audio format, and with published-author interviews.

Anyway, Mur recently wrote a blog post about Sour Grapes and Spite in which she was brutally honest about the bitterness and resentment some of us feel when others get what we want. Because it's not always abstract. Sometimes it's not just that you think that "others" who can't write as well as you are making the big bucks while you toil away in impoverished obscurity... sometimes someone else gets the job or the grant or gets to write the exact article you were trying to score for yourself. You strive to be the best you that you can be, and you do your research and write your cover letters and design your proposal and write your butt off and do everything you could have done... and someone else gets it anyway.

Let us take a moment to mourn and rage against the competitors.

(And maybe you, personally, don't ever feel this way... in which case you must be really Zen, or really in touch with your higher power, or just really really a better person than I am, but if you're not one of those totally unbelievably generous and kind people, you'll know what I'm talking about. The rest of you can go away and have a cupcake because you clearly deserve it and you don't need to waste time reading about petty jealousies because you're above that. Kudos.)

Now, after you've mourned and raged (and, if you're me, gotten your husband to trash-talk that person for you while you eat ice cream)... WHAT DO YOU DO NEXT?

I am prepared to forgive repeated lapses into unlovely thoughts about those who get what we feel is "rightfully" ours, but after a while wallowing ceases to be therapeutic and actually stunts progress. And that's a problem.

In her post, Mur wondered why she didn't just go out and do the things she wanted to do, despite not getting that position/grant money. Why not just go do it anyway? Naturally it would have been easier to do all the things she wanted if she had funding and a fancy title, but, as she put it:

I don’t need the label to do the work, and if I honestly thought I could help people out, then why did I need the shiny tiara power of the position to do so?

(You were wondering what was up with the tiara. Now you know.)

So, I am hereby distributing Shiny Tiara Power to those who need it. Maybe you don't have the imprimatur that you would have gotten by virtue of getting the job / the grant / the article / publication. But I bet there's something you can do in that same direction without any official sanction. Go put on your tiara. Go do it.

I don't know if I'll ever be able to be totally let go of that nugget of spitefulness I've been known to harbor... but maybe I can roll it up in a nice productive/competitive outer shell. Maybe I can make sure that it always drives me forward rather than stopping me cold.

Also, I should probably learn to blowdry my hair and put on some makeup before I post photos of myself online, but whatever.

Twenty-Ten

New Year's 2006 in Cartagena, Colombia

Why did I pick this photo today? As a reminder.

First, we spent New Year's Eve in Colombia in 2006 because my husband was working for a different company back then, and was spending months at a time in Bogota (among other far-ranging locations) and so we decided that I would come out to meet him for a holiday. He doesn't have that job anymore. He doesn't travel for work like that anymore (he once did Chicago, London, Toronto, Miami, Bogota, London again, and then home in one week). When we took that photo, we had been married for less than 8 months, and we weren't thinking about having kids yet. It seems like a million years ago, not just four. I want to start the new year with an awareness of how fast things can change.

Second... just look at that photo. People in the Southern Hemisphere know about hot Christmases and New Years, but for those of us who reside in the Northern half of the globe, it's a pretty disconcerting concept. I want to make sure that I also start the new year with an awareness of how our experiences can totally change our perceptions of things.

Some of you had pretty awesome 2009s (congrats!) but for others of us it was kind of rough. Here's my reminder to myself: this too, shall pass. And, whatever happens, it's not the same from all points of view.

Here's to 2010. Let's make it a good one.