Jennifer R. Hubbard's Blog, page 83
January 12, 2012
Encouragement
In reading Julie Salamon's biography of Wendy Wasserstein, Wendy and the Lost Boys, I came across this:
"[Joseph] Heller gave Wendy something more important, perhaps, than any single lesson he might have imparted in class or perceptive comment he might have scribbled on a paper. He made her feel that she had something special to offer. This endorsement was a powerful antidote to the sense of failure that weighed on her ..."
I've seen this idea expressed over and over in writer's-journey stories, and I imagine it's common in the wider range of success stories as well. So many of us have gotten a boost to our spirits from someone who said, "I believe in you. You have what it takes."
Constructive criticism is valuable. But we also need our mentors, our cheerleaders, the people who stick by us when the going gets tough and we don't know if we can keep going.
Some days, a well-timed compliment works wonders.
"[Joseph] Heller gave Wendy something more important, perhaps, than any single lesson he might have imparted in class or perceptive comment he might have scribbled on a paper. He made her feel that she had something special to offer. This endorsement was a powerful antidote to the sense of failure that weighed on her ..."
I've seen this idea expressed over and over in writer's-journey stories, and I imagine it's common in the wider range of success stories as well. So many of us have gotten a boost to our spirits from someone who said, "I believe in you. You have what it takes."
Constructive criticism is valuable. But we also need our mentors, our cheerleaders, the people who stick by us when the going gets tough and we don't know if we can keep going.
Some days, a well-timed compliment works wonders.
January 10, 2012
Choices
Stories are rich in choices. Here I'm referring to characters' choices, although certainly writers face many choices as they construct a story.
Choices carry natural suspense and tension--they should create uncertainty, and yet their outcome should feel "right" and believable. Here are some examples of central choices in YA books:
Braless in Wonderland, by Debbie Reed Fischer: Should Allee go to college right away as she has always planned, or take a detour to pursue modeling offers, which will allow her to travel?
Bunheads, by Sophie Flack: Is Hannah satisfied with focusing single-mindedly on her dance career just when she is starting to see success, or does she want to have time and energy to explore other interests?
The Day Before, by Lisa Schroeder: Should Cade and Amber follow through with life-changing obligations, or escape and keep their current lives intact?
The love triangle is a classic example of a choice often found in books. Then there are, in the most extreme examples of choice, the life-or-death decisions such as those in Unwind (Neal Shusterman), Crash Into Me (Albert Borris), and The Hunger Games (Suzanne Collins).
I've been thinking about choices because I have a two-part short story in the January and February issues of Cricket Magazine. (You can read a summary of the January issue here--my story is the one about Everest.) Central to that story is the main character's choice of whether to pursue his dreams, even if it means defying his mother and taking risks--and his mother's choice of how much to allow him to do. I struggled with the ending to the story and initially left it much more open-ended, but the editor encouraged me to take the next step, to follow through, to document the characters' decisions. And so I made a choice that was, for me, almost as scary as the characters'.
As a writer, choice can be scary because we risk disappointing some readers. If the two possibilities are equally compelling, then the road not taken will have fans (notice how the participants in love triangles even have "teams" rooting for each of them?). But that can be positive, too. I think there's value in allowing readers to ask, "What would have happened if the character had chosen the other option?"
Choices carry natural suspense and tension--they should create uncertainty, and yet their outcome should feel "right" and believable. Here are some examples of central choices in YA books:
Braless in Wonderland, by Debbie Reed Fischer: Should Allee go to college right away as she has always planned, or take a detour to pursue modeling offers, which will allow her to travel?
Bunheads, by Sophie Flack: Is Hannah satisfied with focusing single-mindedly on her dance career just when she is starting to see success, or does she want to have time and energy to explore other interests?
The Day Before, by Lisa Schroeder: Should Cade and Amber follow through with life-changing obligations, or escape and keep their current lives intact?
The love triangle is a classic example of a choice often found in books. Then there are, in the most extreme examples of choice, the life-or-death decisions such as those in Unwind (Neal Shusterman), Crash Into Me (Albert Borris), and The Hunger Games (Suzanne Collins).
I've been thinking about choices because I have a two-part short story in the January and February issues of Cricket Magazine. (You can read a summary of the January issue here--my story is the one about Everest.) Central to that story is the main character's choice of whether to pursue his dreams, even if it means defying his mother and taking risks--and his mother's choice of how much to allow him to do. I struggled with the ending to the story and initially left it much more open-ended, but the editor encouraged me to take the next step, to follow through, to document the characters' decisions. And so I made a choice that was, for me, almost as scary as the characters'.
As a writer, choice can be scary because we risk disappointing some readers. If the two possibilities are equally compelling, then the road not taken will have fans (notice how the participants in love triangles even have "teams" rooting for each of them?). But that can be positive, too. I think there's value in allowing readers to ask, "What would have happened if the character had chosen the other option?"
January 8, 2012
The Second Book
Throughout 2011, I posted a series of authors' "second book" stories on this blog. I was fascinated by the process of writing a second book, partly because I had just written mine, partly because sophomore books tend to be written under a very different set of circumstances from debut books. I would like to thank, once more, those authors who shared their stories: Caragh M. O'Brien, Saundra Mitchell, Rosanne Parry, Leah Cypess, Marie Lamba, E.F. (Eileen) Watkins, Ellen Jensen Abbott, Greg Fishbone, Lauren Bjorkman, and M. Flagg. Every author had unique challenges, joys, and perspectives, just as every author seemed to feel both the pressures and the opportunities present in the sophomore novel.
And here, with my second book launching in less than two weeks, I thought I would share my own second-book story.
I alternated writing The Secret Year with another manuscript, which I'll refer to here as "Problem Child," because if our books are like children, that manuscript was certainly my problem child. Problem Child had a narrator I loved and a central conflict that I thought was very important. It also had a setting based on a place in which I lived for eight years, a setting I knew very well and haven't seen much of in YA literature. Anyway, when I got stuck with The Secret Year I would work on Problem Child for a while, and vice versa. There were times during this period that I thought Problem Child would be finished first, and it might be my first novel. But it was The Secret Year that took wing, found me an agent, and got me a book deal.
I thought I had the second-book problem covered: I had a manuscript that was very far along, after all. Problem Child had already been through countless drafts and revisions. I sent it to my agent, who had comments--comments I agreed with, by and large, because something about the book still didn't feel exactly right. In revising the book, I decided I had overwritten it during all those rewritings, and I pared it down to what I thought were the most interesting parts. I did wonder if that made the book too thin, even skeletal, but by this time I had lost all perspective on it. My agent thought that hacking the novel to the bone did indeed make it too thin. I was bored with the book because I knew every word in it by heart, but readers would need more meat.
I tackled Problem Child once again. At the same time, a New Idea came to me, and I wrote a draft of New Idea very quickly, in between toiling on drafts of Problem Child. At about this time, when my agent and I were discussing when we might want to submit Problem Child (assuming I could ever get it in good enough shape), I told him about New Idea. I had been wondering how Problem Child would be received by readers of The Secret Year; New Idea seemed a much more natural follow-up. I did not tell my agent this, just summarized New Idea for him, and he asked how I would feel about working on New Idea to get into submittable shape, and put Problem Child third in the rotation. In other words, he independently came to the same conclusion I had.
I was relieved, then excited. I loved New Idea, and the thought of working on Problem Child any more made we want to puke. New Idea had its own momentum; it was a story I'd had in the back of my head for years, and it came roaring out as if it knew it needed to be the next book. New Idea became a book called Try Not to Breathe, and it comes out this month.
And what of Problem Child? One reason I didn't give up on it sooner was that something about it kept nagging at me, kept wanting to be told. After I finished Try Not to Breathe, I worked on it a bit more, to see what was there, and I reached the point where I've finally written it out of my system. It's a decent book, but it's not in the same league as The Secret Year or Try Not to Breathe, and I don't want it out there with my name on it. I've tried to figure out why it doesn't quite work. One of my critiquers says the setting doesn't feel believable, which is funny because, as I said, I lived in that setting. But since I didn't live there as a high schooler, maybe that's the trouble. There's one character in particular, the main antagonist, who I worry about "othering" on one hand, or making too sympathetic on the other. I also think I may have married this setting to the wrong plot; perhaps I will use this setting in a different work, and I will use this plot with different characters. I've come to recognize that the character of Nicki in Try Not to Breathe is very much like a character in Problem Child, so you could say I've already started mining Problem Child for its best aspects, to use in other stories. Our story ideas aren't really dead until we're dead, so there's also a chance I will someday have the Eureka moment on how to fix Problem Child, and will return to it and revise it one last time. For now it's on the shelf, along with other manuscripts I attempted before The Secret Year, and I am quite happy to leave it there.
So in some ways, my second book was impossibly difficult (Problem Child). In other ways, it was incredibly smooth and quick (Try Not to Breathe). Try Not to Breathe is the book that almost wrote itself. I put in plenty of hours on it, and in the early drafts I wandered around for a while in some early chapters that ended up getting cut, and I had to make a couple of big changes during revision. But overall, the story and the characters had a strength and a life that made them impossible for me to ignore. This is the book I can stand behind.
And here, with my second book launching in less than two weeks, I thought I would share my own second-book story.
I alternated writing The Secret Year with another manuscript, which I'll refer to here as "Problem Child," because if our books are like children, that manuscript was certainly my problem child. Problem Child had a narrator I loved and a central conflict that I thought was very important. It also had a setting based on a place in which I lived for eight years, a setting I knew very well and haven't seen much of in YA literature. Anyway, when I got stuck with The Secret Year I would work on Problem Child for a while, and vice versa. There were times during this period that I thought Problem Child would be finished first, and it might be my first novel. But it was The Secret Year that took wing, found me an agent, and got me a book deal.
I thought I had the second-book problem covered: I had a manuscript that was very far along, after all. Problem Child had already been through countless drafts and revisions. I sent it to my agent, who had comments--comments I agreed with, by and large, because something about the book still didn't feel exactly right. In revising the book, I decided I had overwritten it during all those rewritings, and I pared it down to what I thought were the most interesting parts. I did wonder if that made the book too thin, even skeletal, but by this time I had lost all perspective on it. My agent thought that hacking the novel to the bone did indeed make it too thin. I was bored with the book because I knew every word in it by heart, but readers would need more meat.
I tackled Problem Child once again. At the same time, a New Idea came to me, and I wrote a draft of New Idea very quickly, in between toiling on drafts of Problem Child. At about this time, when my agent and I were discussing when we might want to submit Problem Child (assuming I could ever get it in good enough shape), I told him about New Idea. I had been wondering how Problem Child would be received by readers of The Secret Year; New Idea seemed a much more natural follow-up. I did not tell my agent this, just summarized New Idea for him, and he asked how I would feel about working on New Idea to get into submittable shape, and put Problem Child third in the rotation. In other words, he independently came to the same conclusion I had.
I was relieved, then excited. I loved New Idea, and the thought of working on Problem Child any more made we want to puke. New Idea had its own momentum; it was a story I'd had in the back of my head for years, and it came roaring out as if it knew it needed to be the next book. New Idea became a book called Try Not to Breathe, and it comes out this month.
And what of Problem Child? One reason I didn't give up on it sooner was that something about it kept nagging at me, kept wanting to be told. After I finished Try Not to Breathe, I worked on it a bit more, to see what was there, and I reached the point where I've finally written it out of my system. It's a decent book, but it's not in the same league as The Secret Year or Try Not to Breathe, and I don't want it out there with my name on it. I've tried to figure out why it doesn't quite work. One of my critiquers says the setting doesn't feel believable, which is funny because, as I said, I lived in that setting. But since I didn't live there as a high schooler, maybe that's the trouble. There's one character in particular, the main antagonist, who I worry about "othering" on one hand, or making too sympathetic on the other. I also think I may have married this setting to the wrong plot; perhaps I will use this setting in a different work, and I will use this plot with different characters. I've come to recognize that the character of Nicki in Try Not to Breathe is very much like a character in Problem Child, so you could say I've already started mining Problem Child for its best aspects, to use in other stories. Our story ideas aren't really dead until we're dead, so there's also a chance I will someday have the Eureka moment on how to fix Problem Child, and will return to it and revise it one last time. For now it's on the shelf, along with other manuscripts I attempted before The Secret Year, and I am quite happy to leave it there.
So in some ways, my second book was impossibly difficult (Problem Child). In other ways, it was incredibly smooth and quick (Try Not to Breathe). Try Not to Breathe is the book that almost wrote itself. I put in plenty of hours on it, and in the early drafts I wandered around for a while in some early chapters that ended up getting cut, and I had to make a couple of big changes during revision. But overall, the story and the characters had a strength and a life that made them impossible for me to ignore. This is the book I can stand behind.
January 6, 2012
Time management
Recently, there was a month called December. I'm pretty sure it lasted 31 whole days, but to me it was an eye-blink.
I had a few things going on: major work on a current manuscript, preparation for an upcoming book launch (featured on Eve's Fan Garden this week, including a giveaway), and celebrating holidays with my family. Also, I have a day job.
There came a point where I had to say no to anything new. There were opportunities I would've liked to take, things I would have liked to do, people I would have liked to get to know better, but I literally didn't have the time or energy. I had reached my limit, and rather than exceed that limit, I said no.
It's hard not to feel guilty about this, but in December, I really didn't have a choice. It was a matter of survival.
I bring this up because I've heard Laurie Halse Anderson speak about the need to say no, to understand that we can't do everything all the time. I have called her speech to mind many times as I juggled my workload--and as I took necessary breaks, such as watching a movie with my husband on New Year's Eve. I remember that as I plan out my nearly-as-busy January.
So for anyone out there who feels as if they're struggling with too many tasks, too many obligations, I pass along the message: It's okay to say no. It's okay to take the phone off the hook (or send the calls straight to Voice Mail, to update that saying a bit!). It's not too much to ask that you get to sleep, to shower, to see your children before they grow up. And to write that story that's been sitting in your brain all this time, waiting.
I had a few things going on: major work on a current manuscript, preparation for an upcoming book launch (featured on Eve's Fan Garden this week, including a giveaway), and celebrating holidays with my family. Also, I have a day job.
There came a point where I had to say no to anything new. There were opportunities I would've liked to take, things I would have liked to do, people I would have liked to get to know better, but I literally didn't have the time or energy. I had reached my limit, and rather than exceed that limit, I said no.
It's hard not to feel guilty about this, but in December, I really didn't have a choice. It was a matter of survival.
I bring this up because I've heard Laurie Halse Anderson speak about the need to say no, to understand that we can't do everything all the time. I have called her speech to mind many times as I juggled my workload--and as I took necessary breaks, such as watching a movie with my husband on New Year's Eve. I remember that as I plan out my nearly-as-busy January.
So for anyone out there who feels as if they're struggling with too many tasks, too many obligations, I pass along the message: It's okay to say no. It's okay to take the phone off the hook (or send the calls straight to Voice Mail, to update that saying a bit!). It's not too much to ask that you get to sleep, to shower, to see your children before they grow up. And to write that story that's been sitting in your brain all this time, waiting.
January 4, 2012
Challenge
The Golden Eagle posted an excerpt from Anthony Burgess's A Clockwork Orange the other day, and it got me thinking. I love A Clockwork Orange, but Burgess plays with language in a way that takes a while to get. I always find that after a couple of pages, I get into the language as if it's my native tongue, but there is that discomfort and confusion at the beginning: "Rassoodocks?" "Mesto?" "Moloko?" What language is this? What is this guy talking about? (Spellcheck doesn't like those words either, I notice as I type them!)
Books like this require a reader to do some work, make an investment, trust the author. Not every reader is willing to do that.There are readers who hunger for experimental works, who love that challenge, but they will always be a subset of the audience. And so, as a writer, it's safer to write a very accessible, traditional text.
And yet, as a reader, I find that experimental works often give me the biggest payoff. A Clockwork Orange, for instance.
I wrote short stories for years, and I didn't distort the traditional story-telling style at first. There were so many stories I wanted to tell, and so much to learn about telling them! It took a few years before I wanted to fool around with form. First I nibbled a bit: Very short stories. Very long stories. Stories in the second person. Then I grew a bit more daring: Cut-line prose. Stories that mimicked other forms of writing. Repetitive lines. A vague narrator whose identity was open to reader interpretation. Invented language.
I've been taking the same journey in novels. I'm still writing traditionally, but I'm toying with the idea of playing with form a bit more in some future project. The digital world will probably open up all sorts of possibilities: ways to integrate words with pictures, sound, video; ways to change the linear flow of a story; etc., etc. But I don't want to be gimmicky about it. I want the form to mean something to the story; I want that form to be the best way to tell that story.
In A Clockwork Orange, Anthony Burgess didn't invent a lot of words just to try to be cute, or clever, or obscure. He skewed the language for a reason, and he chose to base his language on Russian for a reason.
As a reader or a writer, sometimes a challenge can be fun.
Source of recommended read: one copy bought, one received as a gift
January 2, 2012
The role of work, and some recommended reads
It's a day to be chock full of linky goodness. And riboflavin. (Assuming I can find some riboflavin hanging around here.)
My first link is to Natalie Whipple's post on the role work plays in our writing life. Sometimes we get so caught up in thinking about talent and luck and the actions of others--all the things we can't control--that we forget the part we can control: the work. The practice, the trial and error, the sheer hours and sweat we can put in. As Natalie writes: "Lots of people tell me I'm talented at certain things now, but I know the truth and am mostly proud of that truth. There was very little talent involved ... If I want to be good at something, the only way for me to get it is through hard work and endurance."
Interestingly, I encountered that same idea in another place just this past week, when I finally got around to reading the highly recommended MG novel A Crooked Kind of Perfect (Linda Urban). The main character, Zoe, wants to be a musical prodigy. But music doesn't come easy to her, and she decides she might as well quit. Then she hears a radio interview of a young musician who plays beautifully ... as a result of practicing four hours a day. Zoe says, "Who knew you'd have to work four hours a day to make something sound so easy?"
Switching gears here ... I was thrilled to be able to blog for NPR about one of my all-time favorite YA novels. I love NPR, and I love Someday This Pain Will Be Useful to You (as longtime readers of this blog already know). I blogged for the feature called "My Guilty Pleasure," but honestly, I don't feel all that guilty about loving that book. ;-)
Finally, I'll note that the "Eve's Fan Garden" site is featuring my upcoming novel, Try Not to Breathe, as the book of the week. There are several features, including a giveaway, so check that out if you're interested.
My first link is to Natalie Whipple's post on the role work plays in our writing life. Sometimes we get so caught up in thinking about talent and luck and the actions of others--all the things we can't control--that we forget the part we can control: the work. The practice, the trial and error, the sheer hours and sweat we can put in. As Natalie writes: "Lots of people tell me I'm talented at certain things now, but I know the truth and am mostly proud of that truth. There was very little talent involved ... If I want to be good at something, the only way for me to get it is through hard work and endurance."
Interestingly, I encountered that same idea in another place just this past week, when I finally got around to reading the highly recommended MG novel A Crooked Kind of Perfect (Linda Urban). The main character, Zoe, wants to be a musical prodigy. But music doesn't come easy to her, and she decides she might as well quit. Then she hears a radio interview of a young musician who plays beautifully ... as a result of practicing four hours a day. Zoe says, "Who knew you'd have to work four hours a day to make something sound so easy?"
Switching gears here ... I was thrilled to be able to blog for NPR about one of my all-time favorite YA novels. I love NPR, and I love Someday This Pain Will Be Useful to You (as longtime readers of this blog already know). I blogged for the feature called "My Guilty Pleasure," but honestly, I don't feel all that guilty about loving that book. ;-)
Finally, I'll note that the "Eve's Fan Garden" site is featuring my upcoming novel, Try Not to Breathe, as the book of the week. There are several features, including a giveaway, so check that out if you're interested.
December 31, 2011
My kind of celebration
I've been leaving New Year's wishes in the comments section on various blogs, but by now I can't remember which ones, so to all of you: Happy New Year!!!
I never really enjoyed going out on New Year's Eve. It always seemed like we were supposed to be having a better time than we actually had, I never felt different at 12:01 from the way I felt at 11:59, and I was always scared to be out on the roads with drunk drivers. And so, years ago, I began the tradition of allowing myself to do what I really like to do, which is: stay in, enjoy the final days of the Christmas tree, maybe watch some TV, maybe write.
May you enjoy your celebration, whether it's quiet like mine, or flashier and full of confetti!
I'm sorry that I can't remember where I initially saw the link to this, but I'm bringing it up because it amuses me to comment on Lake Superior State University's 2012 List of Banished Words, i.e.,words that people think are overused, misused, or otherwise abused. And opinions, I do have them:
"Amazing?" I get why people chose this one, but I don't agree. I realize its overuse has changed its meaning somewhat, but that doesn't bother me. It's a handy all-purpose sign of approval.
"Baby bump:" I do agree with this one. There is something so cutesy-wootsie about the phrase that I get a little sick whenever I hear it.
"Shared sacrifice" and "Win the future:" Oh yes, a thousand times yes. In fact, it would be a safe bet to just put every phrase uttered by politicians on this list.
"Trickeration?" I've never heard this word used by anyone.
"Ginormous:" Sorry, Lake Superior State U., but I LOVE this word. It's the perfect portmanteau.
And so I end 2011 as I began it: full of word geekery. Of which we can never have too much, IMHO.
I never really enjoyed going out on New Year's Eve. It always seemed like we were supposed to be having a better time than we actually had, I never felt different at 12:01 from the way I felt at 11:59, and I was always scared to be out on the roads with drunk drivers. And so, years ago, I began the tradition of allowing myself to do what I really like to do, which is: stay in, enjoy the final days of the Christmas tree, maybe watch some TV, maybe write.
May you enjoy your celebration, whether it's quiet like mine, or flashier and full of confetti!
I'm sorry that I can't remember where I initially saw the link to this, but I'm bringing it up because it amuses me to comment on Lake Superior State University's 2012 List of Banished Words, i.e.,words that people think are overused, misused, or otherwise abused. And opinions, I do have them:
"Amazing?" I get why people chose this one, but I don't agree. I realize its overuse has changed its meaning somewhat, but that doesn't bother me. It's a handy all-purpose sign of approval.
"Baby bump:" I do agree with this one. There is something so cutesy-wootsie about the phrase that I get a little sick whenever I hear it.
"Shared sacrifice" and "Win the future:" Oh yes, a thousand times yes. In fact, it would be a safe bet to just put every phrase uttered by politicians on this list.
"Trickeration?" I've never heard this word used by anyone.
"Ginormous:" Sorry, Lake Superior State U., but I LOVE this word. It's the perfect portmanteau.
And so I end 2011 as I began it: full of word geekery. Of which we can never have too much, IMHO.
December 28, 2011
The dance of avoidance
People often skirt around issues, protect themselves or others, sugarcoat things, fool themselves. Therefore, this is realistic when done by fictional characters, but avoidance can become a bit of a well-worn path. Writers have to be careful about not making characters dance this dance for too long, just for the sake of filling up pages.
Sometimes it's fun to let the characters go ahead and make that declaration, step off that cliff, say the thing we all know they're thinking--but thought they wouldn't dare to say. It can set up subplots and interim conflicts, give us something to do on the way to the main event.
Such moments have to fit the character, of course. There should be a motivation and a reason. But this is one way to break a pattern if the writing begins to feel predictable or formulaic: don't let the character wriggle out of this scene without taking a risk.
Sometimes it's fun to let the characters go ahead and make that declaration, step off that cliff, say the thing we all know they're thinking--but thought they wouldn't dare to say. It can set up subplots and interim conflicts, give us something to do on the way to the main event.
Such moments have to fit the character, of course. There should be a motivation and a reason. But this is one way to break a pattern if the writing begins to feel predictable or formulaic: don't let the character wriggle out of this scene without taking a risk.
December 26, 2011
A writer's path
One of my former poetry teachers, Deborah Fries, was interviewed at Kelcey Parker's blog, "PhD in Creative Writing & Other Stories," as part of a "How to become a writer" series. It's worth reading if you, like me, enjoy reading about the different paths writers take, or if you're looking for writerly advice.
A sampling:
On finding the right mentor at the right time: " ... if it had not been for Dave [Smith]'s sincere interest in my manuscript at that moment in my life, I might have given up."
On the unflappability of Grace Paley: " ... in the middle of her reading, a tooth – a removable one – came out, and she looked at it, put it aside on the podium and continued reading."
On becoming a writer: "I'd tell [an aspiring writer] rejection is meaningless, and that if you write something you wouldn't want your mother to read, it will probably get published."
A sampling:
On finding the right mentor at the right time: " ... if it had not been for Dave [Smith]'s sincere interest in my manuscript at that moment in my life, I might have given up."
On the unflappability of Grace Paley: " ... in the middle of her reading, a tooth – a removable one – came out, and she looked at it, put it aside on the podium and continued reading."
On becoming a writer: "I'd tell [an aspiring writer] rejection is meaningless, and that if you write something you wouldn't want your mother to read, it will probably get published."
December 22, 2011
'Tis the season
Thank you to everyone who commented on my LJ or Blogger posts for the Heifer International challenge. Your comments spurred my donation of $55; I chose the category "give where most needed."
Wishing you joy and comfort this holiday season, whatever you most need. I'll be back to blogging again in a few days.
Wishing you joy and comfort this holiday season, whatever you most need. I'll be back to blogging again in a few days.
