Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 550

Gratitude journal: This and this

 

A lot of preparation required in order to watch TV

Sometimes a couch and a couple pillows just aren't good enough.

Sometimes my daughter requires a couple carefully chosen friends, a strategically placed umbrella, a well worn winter hat and her favorite red chair in order to enjoy Sesame Street.

I fear this girl is going to be extremely high maintenance.

Gratitude journal: Not tempted in the slightest

Tonight I am grateful for my job.

Earlier this evening, I was offered a teaching job at a different school that included an increase in pay, an opportunity for advancement and an allegedly lighter workload. And while I was honored to receive such an offer, I never thought for a second about leaving my school for more money or potentially better working conditions.    

Not for a second.

I feel extremely fortunate to be working in a school with students and teachers who bring bring me enough happiness on a daily basis to render an offer like this moot. 

Its here!

Fresh from the other side of the pond!

 

Three important writing lessons, as described by my three-year old daughter

My daughter is only three years old, and yet I can already see the exacting eye of an editor in her. She cannot read yet, but as she watches television, she quickly and mercilessly identifies errors made by writers and producer and reacts accordingly.

Sometimes her critique comes in the form of words. More often her criticism takes the form of a waning level of interest in a television show or a refusal to watch at all. 

It's been a fascinating and enlightening process to watch. Oddly enough, my three year old has been teaching me about my craft.

Three specific pieces of criticism have made an impression on me as an author. They are lessons that all authors should remember. 

1. Don't overwrite. More importantly, don't refuse editing. 

Yesterday Clara and my wife sat down to watch Mary Poppins for the first time. Clara has been watching some of the more famous musical numbers from the film on her mother's iPad, but she had yet to see the complete film.

She still has yet to see the complete film.

While her interest admittedly waned throughout, her most telling comment came just over thirty minutes into the movie when she stood up from the couch and said, "Too long!"

She's right. At 139 minutes, the film is far too long for most three-year old children, and it might be too long in general. As much as I loved Mary Poppins as a child, a two hour and nineteen minute children's musical probably could have stood a little more time in the editing room.

Authors often have a great deal to say. We try to restrain ourselves as much as possible, but it often requires the expertise of an agent and an editor to bring our stories down to a length that will maintain a reader's interest. It's not an easy process. My agent has chopped whole chapters out of my book. Hours and hours of work and strings of carefully honed, treasured sentences lost forever.

But better to lose an entire chapter than to have a reader toss down the book and shout, "Too long!"

2. Conflict is King. Backstory and resolution are secondary.  

With almost any television show that Clara watches, she exhibits the same pattern of interest.  As the conflict in the story rises, she remains riveted to the program. But as soon as the resolution is evident, even if it has not yet happened, her interest immediately wanes. Sometimes she will walk right out of the room before the resolution even takes place. 

It's a good lesson for authors to remember. It is the conflict that engages the reader. Backstory and resolution are necessary, but these elements should occur within the context of the conflict as often as possible and should probably occupy the fewest number of pages as possible. Keep the tension high throughout the story and keep the conflict ever-present in the readers' minds and you will hold their interest throughout.

3. Keep your promises to the reader.

Clara does not appreciate when a television show goes off-book or changes genres midstream. Her favorite show at the moment is The Wonder Pets. It is a program about three pre-school class pets who moonlight as superheroes, saving baby animals around the world who are in trouble.

But occasionally the writers of The Wonder Pets decide to step outside this proven formula. In one episode, The Wonder Pets save an alien who is trying to return to his planet. In another, two of The Wonder Pets must save the third from peril. One episode is essentially a clip show in which the baby animals that they have already saved return to thank The Wonder Pets for their help. 

Clara hates these episodes. The alien episode scared the hell out of her. She fled the room saying, "Not this one! Not this one!" The other more experimental episodes never manage to keep her interest.

Clara is invested in The Wonder Pets because of the promise of baby animals being saved and returned to their parents by three characters who she adores. 

It's a good lesson for authors who sometimes offer the reader one thing but then give them another. This can happen when authors fail to remain faithful to the genre in which they are writing, infusing their fantasy novel with a sudden splash of science fiction or bringing serious social commentary into what was supposed to be an escapist detective or romance story.

Authors make promises to readers and then must deliver on them because readers are not simply empty vessels awaiting for the author to impart whatever wisdom he or she deems worthy.  Readers are discerning customers who need to be able to trust an author before investing time and money into a book. There are many reasons that readers purchase books, but it is rarely because they think the author is a wonderful person and whatever he or she has to say will be worthy. Most often, they buy books because of the promise of the book. A promise of genre or character or plot or quality of the writing.

Authors must be sure to keep these promises or risk having their readers shout, "Not this one! Not this one!"

Gratitude journal: I was wrong. Im so glad.

In our ongoing efforts to improve our dog's behavior comes this minor miracle:

Following the advice of our outlandishly affordable behaviorist, I set up a crate yesterday in hopes of crate training our nine year old Lhasa Apso.  We'd like to be able to put the dog in the crate when little kids are visiting, since her ongoing back problems cause her to have little patience with unsteady, untrustworthy children with big feet and limited coordination.

We were also extremely happy to hear that when Kaleigh snaps at these children, Clara included, she does so without the intent of biting them.

According to our behaviorist, if a dog wants to bite a human being, it will bite a human being. People do not have the reflexes to avoid being bit. Snapping is a dog's way of warning a person to stay away, and it does not mean that the dog will ever follow it up with a bite.

And since our dog is nine years old and has never bitten anyone, we are most likely in the clear when it comes to actual biting.   

This was a great relief to us, but still, it would be nice to be able to put the dog in a crate when friends are visiting with their little ones.

Growling, snapping and barking all suck, even if the dog doesn't plan on biting anyone.    

The behaviorist told us that 95% of all dogs will accept and ultimately embrace the safety and security of a crate.

I didn't think there was a shot in hell.

The dog is nine years old and stubborn. I didn't think she'd even enter the crate on her own. 

During the first week of training, we were told to set up the crate in a spot where should would normally lie down, place a couple treats inside and leave the door open.

Allow Kaleigh to enter at will.

Less than 36 hours after setting up the crate, with no coercion on our part, this is the result.

Damn that behaviorist is good.

Raising my daughter is a piece of cake, and theres a good reason why I say this as often as possible.

Maybe people find pleasure in complaining.

Maybe they need to justify their own problems by projecting them upon others.

Perhaps some people simply lack perspective.

I'm not sure.

But when Elysha was pregnant with Clara, we were repeatedly told about how difficult and exhausting parenting would be.

For reasons that I still fail to understand, it seemed as if it was the mission of the great majority of parents to destroy any perception that we might have that our child would be a blessing in our life and parenting would be a joy.

We heard stories about lost sleep, mounting expenses, the loss of basic adult freedom, the inability to see a movie or spend time alone, the stress on our marriage, the tantrums of a toddler, the never-ending string of dirty diapers, the cries in the middle of the night, and more.

Much more. 

For every positive comment made by a person about our future as parents, there were at least ten comments describing parenting in a negative light. This is not an exaggeration. Nor is it uncommon. I hear comments like these made to expecting parents all the time.

This is why I make it a point to tell expecting parents about how easy it has been to be a parent. How ridiculously easy and utterly joyous it has been to raise our three-year old, and how it seems to get easier day by day. 

And it's true. Compared with all the struggles and difficulties that I have experienced in my life, parenting has not been hard. 

It has not been hard at all. It has been easy. 

And it is not because my wife and I are exceptional parents or because our daughter is an uncommonly good child. It's simply because the blessings of parenthood kick the ass of the struggles of parenthood.

 

Yes, I had to change six diapers yesterday, and yes, at least one of them was exceedingly disgusting. But this meant that I was able to spend some uninterrupted, one-on-one time with my favorite person in the world, listening to her tell me about her shadow on the wall or the book in her hand or the mobile over head or her plans for the afternoon.

And yes, diapers are expensive and we have considerably less discretionary income than before our daughter was born, but in exchange, we have Clara.  Did anyone actually think that raising a child would save you money? Were the expenses of childrearing a surprise to any of these naysaying parents? It's simply a tradeoff. Less discretionary income in exchange for an amazing, hilarious, loving, joyful human being.

I advise expecting parents to ignore the rising tide of negativity that will inundate them as their due date approaches. At the very least, smile and nod while reminding yourself how insufferably miserable people can be, regardless of their circumstances. 

Even better, I encourage them to inquire as to why these nattering nabobs of negativity would want to ruin the excitement and anticipation of an expecting parent. I urge them to challenge these parents' assertions and question their motives. I tell them to keep an open mind and ask questions of these parents who insist on describing parenting as a miserable experience.

You haven't slept well in five years? Were you a parent who refused to allow your child to cry herself to sleep? Was your toddler was still sleeping in your bedroom on her third birthday? Are you and your husband one of these couples who keep score of the time spent with and without your child or subscribe to the "If I am awake, you are awake" philosophy?

Not every child will become a good sleeper, but a lot of parents screw this part up royally and then whine about it for years. 

Or how about this one:

You haven't seen a movie in five years because it costs a fortune to hire a babysitter?  You own an enormous house with a three-car garage. You have a 50-inch television mounted on the wall in your living room. You own an iPad. You drive a brand new car. You subscribe to HBO, Showtime and Netflix. Your child owns every trendy toy under the sun. Your handbag cost more than Patriots season ticket. Not every family has enough money to hire a babysitter on a regular basis, especially in this economy, but oftentimes their inability to afford a babysitter has more to do with financial decisions unrelated to their child.

None of the warnings that parents imposed upon me prior to the birth of Clara have ever come true.

NOT A SINGLE ONE OF THEM.  

Now that my wife is pregnant with our second child, the naysayers have returned, finding time in their miserable and harried lives to explain to me that one child might have been easy but two are not. They use trite and overdone expressions like "One plus one does not equal two when it comes to having kids!" and "Watch out! You won't outnumber the kids anymore!" and take great pride in doing so.

But I know better now. I tell them to go to hell. Yes, another child will increase my level of responsibility. Yes, another child will cost more. And yes, perhaps this next child will not be quite so easy as Clara. 

But in the end, I will have another amazing, joyous, wonderful, hilarious, loving human being in my life, and that will kick the ass of additional responsibilities and added costs.   

I have made it my mission to go through life telling expecting parents that they are about to enter an exciting, joyful and unbelievably exciting time in their lives. I tell them that parenting will be far easier than most people describe it. I encourage them to ignore the army of jackasses who, for reasons that will always elude me, insist on stripping expecting parents of their hopes and dreams.

My daughter is three years old, and raising her as been as easy as pie. I sleep more than I ever have before. I see about a dozen movies a year. I play golf and attend Patriots games and go to the gym regularly. My marriage couldn't be stronger. We couldn't be happier.

So there. 

Gratitude journal: The sliver of time spent in the car

Tonight I am grateful for the fifteen minutes that we spent driving to the dealership in order to pick up my wife's car.  Clara, who refused to nap this afternoon and went to bed extremely late last night, was strung out, altering between maniacal laughter and blithering, teary eyed nonsense as we discussed the probability that she might be a goon.

Elysha and I suspected that we might be getting a sneak peek into what Clara would act like if she were drunk.

It was hilarious.

Even though we had a great day, filled with laughs, lots of play, great spurts of productivity and a dinner at our place with several friends and their children, it was that short ride to the dealership that remains the highlight of my day. 

It was one of those tiny, precious, you-had-to-be-there moments in the life of a parent that you never forget.    

Dinner with a dead man

Two weeks ago I thought my brother, Jeremy, was dead.

A week ago, he reappeared in rather dramatic fashion after a five year disappearance.

Last night Elysha, Clara and I ate dinner with him and the woman responsible for our reunion (an amazing story that will hopefully end up in print soon) at Jeremy's apartment. It was the first time that my brother and I sat down for dinner together since 1985, unless you count the post-funeral luncheon following our mother's burial.

We had a great time. An actual, genuine, heartfelt good time. He met my daughter for the first time, and thanks in part to his two cats, she took to him right away. 

The way to Clara's heart has always been through a well-placed feline.

We ate dinner, shared a bunch of funny, tragic and surprising stories from our childhood and the years we spent apart, and filled in some of the massive gaps in our family's less-than-illustrious history.

He gave me a birthday present, the first gift that he and I have ever exchanged in our entire lives.

He reminded me that as kids, we were total opposites and always fighting.

Jeremy loved the Red Sox. I loved the Yankees (just to spite him).
He was a Batman guy. I loved Superman.
He loved Darth Vader. I loved Luke Skywalker.

It turns out that like me, he is an obsessive Patriots fan. His home is a veritable shrine to the team.

He has also failed to take down his Christmas tree and accoutrement, which I find extremely disconcerting, and he hemmed and hawed about reading any of my books (he had no idea that I was an author until a week ago), but if he's willing to remain in my life, I can learn to live with these things. 

Near the end of our visit, Jeremy picked up Clara for photos, something she would never allow a stranger or even most friends to do. But she allowed Jeremy to lift her into his arms and even managed a few smiles in the process.

I couldn't believe it.

We even planned another visit. Next month at our place. Clara will be upset when Jeremy arrives without the cats, but that's a small price to pay for an uncle that she did not know existed until a couple of days ago.     

   

Pirate ship/In-law apartment

We spent yesterday morning celebrating the birthday of one of Clara's friends at an indoor gym filled with outdoor play equipment.

It's actually a clever concept. All of the equipment that the children can play on is also for sale, so the business makes five bucks for allowing a kid to play indoors, and in return, the parents have the opportunity to playtest some of the equipment, including this enormous pirate ship which Clara adored.

And at $3,700, I thought the pirate ship was a steal. The only problem:

What do you do with your enormous pirate ship in five to ten years when your children outgrow it?

No one is going to buy it, since it can't feasibly be transported to a new location, and it's unlikely that you're going to want to leave it in the backyard when your kids are teenagers.

Can you just imagine the kind of illicit and unspeakable things teenagers might do with access to something like this?

Then I came upon a solution:

An in-law apartment.

Yes, the interior of the pirate ship is small, and yes, it would require a little insulation and perhaps an extension cord or two to make livable. 

It might also be a little strange to have your in-laws living in a pirate ship in your backyard, but if you buy them a couple pirate hats, an eye patch and a parrot, they could make it work.   

And for many people (and I'm not necessarily saying me), it would be considerably better than having your in-laws puttering around your house all day, leaving dirty dishes in the sink and blasting the talking heads of MSNBC from the other room.