Rachel Thompson's Blog, page 34
April 1, 2012
WHY WE THINK YOU ARE A TWITTER IDIOT
Okay, maybe you're not an idiot. You might be a very nice person who doesn't know any better. But, the truth is we're getting sick of it and we're not gonna take it anymore (wait, isn't that a bad country song?). Anyway, pay attention. 
If you put links in every tweet or Facebook message, it's a total turnoff and you are no different than spammers. It's a proven fact that people who broadcast one-way rather than interact two-way have less followers and are unfollowed more often (Dan Zarrella, The Hierarchy of Contagiousness).
So you're thinking, fine Miss Bossypants. What do you expect us to do instead? (You're also thinking, damn, who does this redheaded chick think she is? Let's just say I'm someone who has done this for awhile.)
Provide content. Ya know, info, resources, interesting shit. This doesn't mean jabber on about nothing or what you ate for lunch. Pick keywords that describe you, your genre, what you do, who you are. Make people care.
(There, there, honey. Was that so hard?)
Here's what I'm referring to specifically that bugs us:
When you autoDM someone with a link to like your FB page or book (ack)
When you only tweet out links to your own books (and please, stop quoting your own stuff. You're not Abe Lincoln)
When you tweet out links to your own books and the books of others authors (oh, just relax. I'll explain)
When you tweet out links to your books, other authors, and RT anything else that includes a link
When you are promoting your book because it's free or part of a group promo so your sense of urgency takes over
Are you seeing a pattern here?
Links, links, links.
Let's deconstruct.
AUTO DMs WITH LINKS: People hate these and for good reason. Asking me to like your Facebook page or book before we've even said hello is like expecting sex on the first date before I've even opened the door and said how do you do. I mean, I like sex as much as the next girl but I kinda want to have a drink first, ya know?
Besides, if you're smart, you've already included in your bio your pertinent links (Twitter allows two links. So der, have two.). I do know how to read. If you're not a tool, I will click on them and check you out. I will also probably like your Facebook page and Amazon book if you don't inundate me with linky spam to go like all your stuff. So back the hell off.
REPEATED BOOK LINKS: I'm an author. I get it. Selling books is important. But guess what? You will sell very few on Twitter. I know. Harsh, Rach. Read it again if you need to.
But Rachel, you say, wha, wha, what? That can't be possible! Yea, well. Reality sucks.
Here is your wake-up call: You need a fully fleshed-out author platform. Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads, LinkedIn, now Pinterest, Google+, website, blog (which is why I cringe when authors wait until their book release to start social media and then expect support. Do it way before release. Please.)
And even then, the majority of your book sales will likely come from reviews, word of mouth and ads (I like Google AdWords), Facebook ads, or Goodreads ads, Kindle Nation Daily and Pixel of Ink are also awesome, advertising with top book bloggers (Google them for your genre), doing virtual book tours where you're exposed to readers of your genre, book promotions (there are a gazillion – again, Google them or contact me via email) and a myriad of other ways.
(And KDP Select if you're part of that. It rocks if you also advertise the hell out of it when you go free. Just going free and tweeting the hell out of it? Not good enough.)
Twitter is but one part of your author platform.
What Twitter does do is increase your exposure and help you build a fan base, a tribe who will support you in your endeavors, just as you support them. Which is why you need to not simply broadcast book links. Twitter is social, two-way. Are you two-way when you broadcast? No.
Think about it: do you listen to the guy who pontificates endlessly about himself at a party? No. You find some excuse to get away, quickly.
Don't be that guy.
AUTHOR LINKS: I love supporting my other authors and they support me back. It's a crucial part of community building on Twitter that I value immensely. Unfortunately, I see too many writers fall into the trap of inbreeding, meaning they only tweet and RT their own links and links of other authors. That's it.
The danger here is that no one person is that narrow focused. Do you only write? No. Surely you have other interests. Just as you played football in college or enjoy cooking now (sorry, can't relate; burn water), it's a good idea to explore other tweeps and build on those relationships. As I mentioned above, while Twitter doesn't sell your books, word of mouth does.
My #1 bestselling eBook about men and women, The Mancode: Exposed has some unlikely advocates in the most random places due to my varied interests like movie scores, sci-fi, and even vodka. Who knew? Don't limit yourself.
LOTS OF OTHER LINKS: There is so much great stuff to tweet out, right? Cool pix, unique info, music, book reviews, Pinterest links, Triberr mates' blogs…how do we know how much is too much?
You may be one of those tweeps who IS quite conscious of their amount of tweets that contain links (and good for you) but feel at a loss how to control it. Well, there are a few things you can do:
If you're on Triberr, go to settings and set your tribemates posts for 90 minutes. The auto setting is 20, which is too close together in my opinion.
Some tribemates post more than once/day. I don't approve those. Sorry guys but I only blog once/week. Once/day approval is all you get from me.
Use Hootsuite or Tweetdeck (both free) to schedule in your posts. If you're still using Twitter to live tweet, all your tweets are going out in batches and your tweeps are inundated. This helps with your time management also.
For goodness sakes, write tweets that have no freakin' links!
(I will write more about content tweets and promo tweets on my BadRedhead Media blog in a few weeks.)
SENSE OF URGENCY: I see this a lot. We've all felt it. Some people just freak out! When their book is on promo! OMG! My book is free! Everyone buy it!
Enough with the exclamation marks. Especially early in the morning. If I haven't had my coffee. Step away from the shift-1.
I work with lots of clients who are selling their books. I manage their Twitter accounts and in fact, their entire campaigns and I can tell you, Twitter is but one small part of how we go about ensuring their book sells. We look at:
Their Amazon copy, categories, tags
Advertising
Blog tour, interviews, guest posts, and book promos
Press releases
Goodreads
Blog post
Newsletters
Email campaign
& more. Much of the above is free or low cost so 'blah blah I have no money or time and Twitter is all I can do' is BS. Save it. If you use Hootsuite or Tweetdeck, you can post everywhere so ix-nay on the inks-lay. Got it?
So…I hope you have a few ideas at this point which show you other avenues besides Twitter to promo your books or business.
STOP THE MADNESS!
I'd love to hear your comments below. Please share your experiences or tell me where to stick it. Whatev. Thanks so much. If you know someone who can benefit from this article, please by all means share with them. Exclamation marks optional.
Do sign up for my newsletter The Chronicles of Snark. The form is just over there =====>>>> it takes seconds, and you'll find out all the haps with the Queen of Snark. Yea, that's me.
Still feeling overwhelmed by Twitter? Check out my April webinars.
Cool stuff coming up this next weekend. I may actually tweet about it. Ha!
Related articles
The Top 6 Reasons No One on Twitter Is Following You Back (badredheadmedia.com)
Top 10 Rules To NOT Be A Social Media Douche (rachelintheoc.com)
An Indie Author's Journey: What I've Learned (rainethomas.com)
March 25, 2012
STALKING: ANOTHER SHADE OF FEAR by guest @LorcaDamon
If you don't follow @LorcaDamon, go right now. She's extremely witty, original, and above all, a talented author. Her blog is consistently outstanding, so make sure you follow her there as well. Lorca is also one of the strongest women I know. The author of Autism by Hand and It Was Like That When I Found It, Lorca is that rare combination of heartbreakingly real and hysterically funny. Not an easy feat to pull off.
As I do with all my guests (see recent posts by Justin Bog, Toby Neal, and Casey Ryan), I asked Lorca to share something real from her past. Something that would surprise readers, make us think. I'm honored and impressed with the story she chose. I know you will be also. Read, comment, share with everyone you know.
Nobody believed me. Oh, they believed he existed. They even believed he'd gone to crazy lengths to show up unannounced, to 
follow me throughout the day, even to find out the names of my classmates or find out my schedule. But nobody believed he was dangerous.
"He's just in love," they would croon with a hand over their chests. "He's a poor love-sick puppy. I wish someone cared about me that much."
And I admit it, it seemed almost cute when he showed up at my church and sat in the front pew with a bouquet of flowers, watching me sing in the choir. So what if we had met literally the day before and it took only a mere ten hours for him to find out where I went to church and what time I would be there?
It was even cute when he sent me love letters written on dozens of numbered postcards because I thought he was just trying to show me pictures of where he lived. It wasn't until I put it together how every postcard had one word written in all caps that I got scared, how if you lined the postcards up in order and read the capitalized words it spelled out a message: "YOU ARE MINE. NOW. FOREVER. GET USED TO IT."
But no one believed him to be dangerous. Not my parents. Not my friends. Certainly not the women who worked in the post office who would sigh and smile whenever he sent another stack of letters. The letters came more frequently, almost daily, sometimes in scribbled handwriting that looked like a madman had opened a vein.
"He's in such a hurry to tell you he loves you that he couldn't even take the time to write neatly! You're so lucky to have him!"
But I didn't have him. I didn't even want him. A chance meeting on a city bus was all it took for him to claim me, like a dog choosing a bone. From that brief moment through the next two years of my life, a man stalked me, who became obsessed with me. It didn't matter to him that we had an inappropriate—and illegal—age difference, that at seventeen years old I had to fight off an older man's advances.
Going through it alone made it even more difficult.
Nobody believed me. Even my parents, the ones I thought I could count on to be furious that an older man gave me attention I didn't want. Instead, I heard advice like, "He's just lonely," or "Make sure you let him down easy." My favorite: "It's not like you're dating anyone, it wouldn't hurt to give him a chance." That doozy is how I ended up actually having to sit through a movie with him, an inappropriately sexy romance movie that he chose, of course.
I became frantic. I told anyone who would listen that I was afraid, that I didn't want this. All anyone saw: a sweet man in love. What about my choice in this? I didn't want this, but no one seemed to care, least of all him.
It's weird, I don't ever remember being afraid of HIM, I just remember being afraid that if he ever did hurt me no one would believe it. I remember having a nightmare in which he kidnapped me; the kidnapping itself didn't scare me so much as knowing that no one would come to save me because no one would have ever suspected him. I couldn't even go outside because I knew if he ever turned violent, there would be no one to help me.
After two years of mental torture, of the daily phone calls where he would demand to know every detail of what I had done that day (phone calls that my parents made me answer because "it's rude to tell him you're not here") and where he would drop little hints that clearly told me he knew my every movement, I reached my breaking point.
Eventually he got tired of me, or more likely, tired of trying to play his games across the distance that separated us. Unlike most obsessed animals, he grew tired of me after stealing two years of my life, years where I should have been reveling in the freedom of becoming an adult or making friends in college. I'm thankful for his boredom even now.
While I was lucky enough to have not been harmed—unlike so many women out there—the whole experience made me into the hard-shelled person I am today. I will never again run desperately from person to person, begging to be rescued. Maybe it's even a good thing this happened, especially when I was so young.
It taught me to never be someone's victim.
No one else can—or will—protect me.
Please leave your comments or your own experiences below.
If you'd rather contact Lorca privately, feel free to email me at RachelintheOC@gmail.com and I'll forward your message on to her; or contact her directly via her blog or Twitter.
And don't forget: I'm offering (via BadRedhead Media) two webinars this week and next!
TWITTER BASICS this coming Saturday, 3/31 12pm PST/3pm EST, just $35. Sign up here.
ADVANCED TWITTER SKILLS Wednesday 4/4, 5:30pm PST/8:30 EST, $45. Sign up here.
Related articles
Top 10 Rules To NOT Be A Social Media Douche (rachelintheoc.com)
Inside the Author's Mind – A. J. Aalto (edenbaylee.wordpress.com)
10 Things Men Should Do and Often Don't (and a drug test, too) (amberrisme.com)
March 17, 2012
Top 10 Rules To NOT Be A Social Media Douche
TOP 10 RULES TO NOT BE A SOCIAL MEDIA DOUCHE
What's the basic, number one rule of Social Media?
DON'T BE A DOUCHE.
Everyone knows this. Yet why are there so many on social media?
And what does being or not being a douche really mean?
Sure, there's the golden rule and all that. But part of social media is being yourself. So, what if you are the snarky redhead who likes to communicate with a slight bite? Is that acceptable?
Yes. #der.
There are, however, a few guidelines I wish to share with you. Because I've been doing this for a while (since '08 as a blogger and '10 as both an author and consultant), many curious types pepper me with keen questions and comments, and I adore answering every single one. I have experienced or observed all of what you read below.
Let's deconstruct:
1. Don't spam links. Social media is social, dammit. We are here to interact, discuss, share info, find out about each other and sure, okay, promote. (I'm an author, my books are on Amazon (hint: look at my Twitter bio). I promote them. I run promos when my books are 99cents or free and guess what — I'm going to let you know.
But not every day, and most certainly not every freakin' tweet. Even I get sick of myself. Authors who do that drive me crazy. It's part of why I started my own social media consulting biz – to help authors learn NOT to spam.
Twitter (and Facebook) is about being content-rich: info, resources, memes (which for god's sake rhymes with themes, people). It's fine to have links but not in every tweet. Ask a question, discuss a topic, provide expertise. Use your brain.
My content (no links) to promo (links) ratio is typically 3:1, though it can vary depending on if it's a promo day (i.e., #MentionMonday is a blog post sharing meme where authors share their latest blog posts and RT others, so of course links must be present). I offset this by having little promo the following days.
Tweeps who constantly link not only lose followers and fatigue their stream but also violate Twitter's TOS (terms of service) guidelines we all sign, and risk being shut down. Anyone can report them as spammers.
Besides which, you just look like a self-involved douche.
2. Flame Wars. Never a good idea. We've all seen these discussions become all out heated wars. Is there ever a winner…truly? Some of us are passionate people who stand up for our rights and what we believe in. Great, fine. TAKE IT TO DM or better yet, walk away.
It's like calling out your boss in front of the group. Don't do it.
Even if the person is the biggest jerk ever, you're the one who will look poorly for getting into it because you know better. Come on. You do. If someone calls you out for what you said, fine. Let it go. You will not convince them of your position. Let it go.
And truly, for all the time and angst you spent getting emotionally roiled up, wouldn't you rather be writing? Better yet, walk away, breathe, block if you have to (my favorite button ever). Don't give power to the yahoos.
3. To AutoDM or not to autoDM. My pet peeve? The ones with the links. I'm personally okay with an autoDM if it has no link and is cleverly written. But add a link to it ('follow me on my Facebook page' or 'go purchase my book at…') is like asking me out on a date before we've ever met. So, no.
Some people feel very strongly that you must personally welcome each follower and that's your call. As your stream grows and you find you're getting 300 new followers every day, good luck with that. I manage several Twitter accounts for my clients and it's just not possible – that would be in the thousands and I'd never be able to write my next book or ya know, eat.
If you do write autoDMs, don't say 'thanks for following.' Snore. Pick something interesting and write about it. Be cool, baby.
TrueTwit – an automated service to determine if you're an automated service? Um, no.
4. Begging for follows. Just. No.
5. Scolding. Unlike Facebook, Twitter is based on what's called a 'trust model' meaning I don't have to follow you, and you don't have to follow me (unless our accounts are private). Also, there's no obligation for us to both follow each other. One may follow, the other may not. I follow because I like your content and perhaps, vice versa.
If I choose to follow you and find out you're a douche and unfollow, don't send me a scathing message scolding me for daring to unfollow. I have that right to go clicky clicky, just as you do. Besides, it's just Twitter.
6. Gurus & Fake-Verifieds. We laugh at you, with your sad little non-blue plain checkmark. Who calls himself or herself a guru, anyway? Maybe, if you have a sitar, a robe, and some John Lennon glasses, I might consider it.
Nobody is a guru in my opinion because we all still have something to learn. I may know more about Twitter than you do – sure. You may know more about math than I, or say…cooking (okay, that's a given – my six-year-old cooks better than I). But you might be an expert in how to look like a douche. Take it down a notch, people. *
(*According to Dan Zarrella, social media expert and cool smart guy extraordinaire – whom I actually really admire because he looks at objective data and has cool tats – in his book Dan Zarrella's Hierarchy of Contagiousness, even though we make fun of 'gurus,' people do follow them. It's a 'myth' that we shun them after all. Do what you will with that.)
7. Trawlers. Guys – most chicks are not on social media to look at your junk. Keep it in the trunk. 'Nuff said.
8. Commenting before you read the content. Why, oh why. People think they're being funny, clever, and oh so witty when they comment on the tweet or message accompanying the link without reading it first. As you know if you are not a dumbass, one may have nothing to do with the other. It's a tease, if you will. So clicking on the link is generally a good idea. So one doesn't look oh, uninformed (or, say it with me – like a douche).
This happened on Facebook recently with the headline "Kei$ha Admits to Using Autotune," with a link to a Team Coco YouTube video right there (um, hello?).
Tons (as in hundreds) of people made idiotic, know-it-all comments: 'of course she uses it, that no-talent singer' etc., without clicking on the link to realize it was a self-parody and quite well done. And they all looked like complete idiots. I mean, douches. (Mom, Team Coco is Conan O'Brien's company. You're welcome. I promise I'll call this weekend.)
Those of us who posted the link gave up trying to explain it was a satire and simply sat back as people made fools of themselves in their self-righteous douchebaggery. It was pretty funny, to be honest. The soapboxes were stacked pretty high. (Even funnier: the people who went to youtube and didn't even watch the video and posted comments right below. *face palm*
9. Asking/Begging for reviews. Don't spam people to review your book. You look desperate and indiscriminating. And your stream is public, remember? This is what DM (direct message), Facebook messages, and email is for. Or better yet, go to book reviewers and book bloggers who know best how to give a book review. Book a blog tour. Not sure how? Ask me. Or Google stuff. Plan better next time.
10. The Pretender. I get this one a lot. The "Thank you for the follow!" Or "Thx for the RT, Rachel!" when I don't follow this person I've never heard of and I've clearly not RT'd since A) I don't know who they are and B) I clearly don't follow them. And do they think I've just fallen off the Nutella truck and am in such a chocolate coma that I can't click a button to check?
Just because I have 14K something followers doesn't suddenly render me stupid and unable to wade through who follows, who doesn't or who I've RT'd (P.S. I use ManageFlitter weekly anyway — I know). Many times these people don't even follow me! And when you do that, I will call you out on it.
People wonder why my favorite word is dumbass.
11. The Fake Like. I get a few 'friend requests' each day on Facebook. Usually these are real people and we interact and it's great. Lately, though, there seems to be some douchebaggery afoot. A request, then a private message to go like a film, or digg or stumble a page – I mean, within seconds of me approving the request. Not cool. No doubt, they're being paid on numbers.
I not only block you, I tell my thousands of 'friends' to do the same and I report you, dumbass. And educate everyone I know to do the same.
Okay, fine. There were eleven rules. (Ten sounded better for the headline.)
Don't get me wrong. I love social media. 99% of the time it's terrific. I've met great friends (many IRL), colleagues, clients, and discovered charitable causes I work with I wouldn't have found otherwise. It's a critical part of any author's platform.
I simply find many of these behaviors funny and a good source of humor. They're also opportunities for learning, as well as the most egregious abuses I see everyday on Twitter and Facebook. It's like a party…with really random guests.
What do you see? Please share below.
Related articles
Stop Sending That LAME Automated Generic Twitter DM When You're Followed (anisesmithmarketing.com)
How to develop a social media strategy (marketing.yell.com)
An Indie Author's Journey: What I've Learned (rainethomas.com)
5 Ways to Get ROI from Social Media (venpop.com)
Find me every day on Twitter NOT being a douche @RachelintheOC or tweeting free tips @BadRedheadMedia.
Need help with your author platform, branding, book marketing strategy or of course, Twitter? BadRedhead Media to the rescue!
Sign up for our first webinar: Twitter Basics you need NOW: Saturday, 3/31 12pm PST/3pm EST $35 at RachelintheOC@gmail.com.
March 11, 2012
KINDERGARTEN NONSENSE: by guest Casey Ryan aka @CuttingRoomMRB
I met Casey through fabulous author @EdenBaylee when I was promoting A Walk In The Snark, and she was kind enough to score me an interview. Casey then returned the favor and came on the radio show I did over at the Indie Book Collective where we had to behave (I'm no longer affiliated with the IBC). It was on that show that the topic of 'kindergarten nonsense' first arose in our G-rated voices.
I followed up with Casey and told him to come on over to my blog and let loose, baby. Say what he really meant that day!
So here it is.
Kindergarten Nonsense: by: Casey Ryan
There are times in life when the most seemingly educated and well-rounded of adults will have a blue-faced temper tantrum over some little breach about an innocuous social protocol that would rival a 5-year old at Walmart the week before Christmas.
I've become adept at noticing these behavior patterns over the years, primarily because I have very little patience for them and, also find them quite funny. The first time I coined the term "Kindergarten Nonsense" publicly was during an interview on the Indie Book Collective podcast and have been using it in daily life for as long as I can remember. Clearly "nonsense" was not the first word I was reaching for but, I couldn't exactly yell "bullshit" either.
Enough of you have asked me to point out some concrete examples of it that I've thrown together this posting for you. I've selected one "based on a real" story from the work, play, and family arenas and will sum up with my own (simplified) coping strategy.
Work: Bring enough for everyone or don't bring any at all.
I've spent the better part of my career as a corporate sales rep and worked on a large number of teams – each with their own unique flavor. The one common denominator, however, is a ruthless, primal need to win contests. The silly thing is that the prize itself doesn't matter –if it's free and there is a metric attached to it, guys will slit each other's throats for it.
I was once involved in a tense set of negotiations on a huge deal. It would be one of the largest projects ever for my employers and certainly the single biggest for me personally. After several months of contract talks, I made a bet with my bosses that if I were to get a signature by the end of the week, they'd send my wife and I out to dinner at one of the most well-known (and expensive) restaurants in town.
I got my signature and was branded a hero by management. Our CEO called me personally to thank me for all my hard work. An e-mail got sent to the entire company about my victory that also made a passing joke about the dinner I'd won.
That was when the "kindergarten bullshit" started. A teammate of mine went behind my back and spoke to my boss to object to the meal I'd won honestly. He said that all wins were "team wins" and that it was greedy of me to accept the dinner. The money could be used to take the whole sales team out for pizza. A meeting was held and a mock court set up to hear both sides out with the entire team present.
The company sided with me and my wife and I enjoyed our damn dinner. My disgruntled teammate retaliated for the next several months by teasing me to the brink of bullying. The harder he tried to get me to crack, the harder I worked to beat his sales figures. Eventually, he got so worked up that he had a shouting match with the wrong people and quit in anger.
I got promoted based on how I handled the situation which in this case was to keep my own side of the fence clean and keep working.
Play: If you can't win the game, change the rules.
In my spare time, I volunteer for one of the various Irish community groups here in Montreal. As part of my duties I co-host a trivia tournament 3 times a year. My friend and I took over the "quiz-master" detail after several regular patrons complained that our predecessor's questions were impossible to answer. I'm a trivia buff and even I thought they were really hard so when the opportunity came for me to run the thing myself, I jumped at it.
Despite spending hours trying to water down the difficulty level but, still make it hard enough to have a clear winner, my friend and I also got blasted for the questions being too hard. Our first effort was met with the familiar shouts of "too hard", "never heard of the guy", or "give us new questions".
One older woman sitting in front row practically started crying and screamed at me that her team was unable to identify any of the famous statues in our picture round – one of which was the Little Mermaid in Denmark. This time I stood my ground and called her out. I looked her right in the face and said I had a special question just for her team alone. When she calmed down, I asked her what she'd eaten for breakfast that morning. Flustered, she said she couldn't remember but, asked if I'd give half points if she told me what she had for lunch.
Family: If you can't entertain others, entertain yourself.
The best example that I can come up with for dealing with "Kindergarten Bullshit "comes from my father. It also probably best sums up my thoughts on the matter and is as close to a first glance as I have.
Growing up, my family was one of a half dozen English ones in an otherwise French neighborhood. As part of the summer ritual, we'd all spend the day at the local community pool with "Les Anglais" all clustered together in the one section to which we laid claim and defended regularly.
The diving towers were located at the short, chubby "deep" end of the L-shaped pool and roped off. One of the strictest rules was that one was not allowed, under any circumstances, to dive off the tower and swim underwater past the rope and into the main section of the pool.
My dad (a former lifeguard himself) thought this was a dumb rule and broke it daily. Whistles would get blown and the guards would shout at him. He'd come up long enough for a big gulp of air, pretend he didn't hear them, and duck back underwater. The fun would last for about 5 minutes until he had every pool staffer in the place trying to section him off like a criminal on America's Most Wanted.
He couldn't speak much French himself but, did understand enough of it. This didn't stop him from pretending like he wasn't able to. If he was in an especially good mood, he'd make sure I was close enough that I could hear what was going on. They'd bark at him in French, threatening all kinds of expulsions and he'd just stare at them with an incomprehensible glassy look on his face. The game would get shut down when they'd either find the one staffer who spoke English or bring one of the other English dads over to translate – or more accurately pretend to.
My point to all these ramblings is thus a simple one – "Kindergarten Bullshit" is a vicious circle because fighting back perpetuates more bad behavior. As a safety check to our own sense of normalcy, however, it's our duty to point it out when we see it but, in doing so, pick our battles carefully. Most arguments aren't worth having and you get more mileage out of a good meal or funny story than a confrontation. If you feel strongly enough about something, swim under the damn rope.
Casey Ryan is the creator and host of the Cutting Room Floor talk-radio podcast. For the past 3 years, the show has sought to highlight the works of independent entertainers of all types. The half hour segments air live on Sundays at 12 PM EST with recorded copies posted shortly afterward.
A self proclaimed pop-culture addict, Casey is always trying to read up on the latest entertainment news stories. His film education consists of a lifetime of watching and studying movies. He holds a BA in Industrial Relations and Economics as well as a diploma in Sciences. For the past 10 years he has enjoyed a prolific career in corporate sales – often using his skills to help his guests market their work on air. Proud of his Irish heritage, Casey sits on the Board of Directors of the Montreal Chapter of the Ireland-Canada Chamber of Commerce – a volunteer group seeking to create greater business ties between the 2 countries. He is also a member of the Montreal Press Club.
Casey was born and raised in Montreal, Canada where he currently lives with his wife of 7 years. Follow Casey on Twitter @CuttingRoomMRB.
Casey Ryan, host of Cutting Room Floor
Casey, I couldn't adore you more. Please reply to Casey or I directly with your own Kindergarten Bullshit stories below.
Related articles
Radio Interview with Casey Ryan (alleducationmatters.blogspot.com)
How Hard Can It Be? (lorcadamon.com)
Rachel Thompson Discusses Her Hot New eBook, The Mancode: Exposed (tglong.com)
March 4, 2012
SURVIVOR: A THRIVER SPEAKS by guest author Toby Neal
I'm beyond thrilled to introduce to my blog Kindle bestselling author Toby Neal! Her eBook Blood Orchids is FREE today on Amazon (remember, no Kindle required) and I can honestly say I'm enjoying this extremely well-written and fast moving book so much I've ignored almost (but not quite) everything else this past weekend. My family is not pleased.
Blood Orchids, novel by guest Toby Neal
As I do with all my guests, I challenged Toby to dig deep and share something real and honest from her life. After a few back and forth emails, she surprised me with a level of honesty that blew me away. I couldn't be more proud and I'm honored and moved to present her story to you here today. I have chills just writing this. Toby, you have touched me with your loving soul and all your do for the people in your life through your work and words.
SURVIVOR: A THRIVER SPEAKS
My mother-in-law was the first person to say, "I feel like I hardly know you," after she read Blood Orchids, my debut crime novel.
She won't be the last.
Blood Orchids deals with gritty subjects- rape, abuse, and child molestation. Sounds like fun, huh? And to be honest, when I think I'm going to read something that drags me through the gutter of human experience, I don't want to go there. I read to be entertained, to escape—and to see bad guys get their just desserts.
The other question I've been getting is pretty damn personal—"Were you a sexual abuse survivor?"
Up until now I've dodged it, saying I've worked as a therapist with a number of people suffering from aftereffects of abuse. But for Rachel, who dares me to bare it all, I'll answer — just this once.
Yes.
And,
no.
Yes, I was the victim of a one-time, opportunistic encounter with a teenaged boy at the beach when I was seven years old. He made me do things to him I can't quite remember and don't care to; but his threats against my family if I told were what terrified me. Yes, I was also the victim of intermittent physical and emotional abuse by my alcoholic dad.
And, no.
No, because neither of those situations of abuse have defined me as an adult. But that doesn't mean they haven't heavily influenced my work as a therapist, someone who assists the healing of others—and even my decision to become a therapist (versus my first, vainglorious career dream of TV anchorwoman.)
And, those experiences have colored my writing. They are themes I find myself exploring again and again—the unfair wounding of children. The bold process of their overcoming—a fairly common occurrence with 1 out of 4 women a victim of sexual abuse by age 14, and 1 out of 6 men (LiveScience 12/09).
One of the things I wanted to do with Orchids was show the process of therapy with a sexual abuse survivor, how severe the PTSD symptoms of child abuse can be for an adult woman, and how healing comes—sometimes in leaps of freedom with a trained therapist (such as Dr. Wilson who works with Lei) and sometimes in the slow dawning of a new day with a loving partner (whom she is also blessed with.)
In my own life, I've had both too.
But really, that's not what Orchids is about. The book is about overcoming, and the power of love to heal, and yes, the bad guys get their just desserts—and it's damn entertaining, the kind of book that I enjoy reading and can handle. In real life, so often the bad guys get away with it.
In spite of that, we still can be more than survivors—I'm a thriver. And I think my clients can be too.
Do I like my work every day? Hell, no. My clients' suffering still moves me, and the day it doesn't I better hang up my therapy shingle. Here's a poem I wrote about it:
Datebook of a Therapist/Writer by Toby Neal
My life goes by, a book of little boxes
Penciled names and times containing
No hint of the stories–
The sorrows, compulsions, memories, grief,
The rage, depression, drugs, abuse. . .
Just little boxes filled with names and times. I wish they
Left no mark on me but
They do.
I witness the stories
I hold the box of secrets
I hear the songs:
street rap full of fuck you
ukulele ballads spun out of loss
Some are just broken poetry cut into arms
or tattooed names of stillborn children.
I take those stories and weave them into new
I make them fiction and put them somewhere else
My alter ego kills rapists and imprisons pedophiles
She patrols the streets of my imagination making them safer
A big Rottweiler by her side and a gun in her hand.
In real life I pass a box of tissues. It's
Never enough but I guess
It's better than no one ever knowing the stories
At all.
*
So. I've chosen the best revenge for a dysfunctional childhood—a life well lived, fully occupied, making the world a better place one day at a time.
I think Dr. Wilson, my fictional therapist alter ego, would approve.
*
About Toby Neal:
Toby Neal was raised on Kauai in Hawaii. She wrote and illustrated her first story at age five and has been published in magazines and won several writing contests. After initially majoring in Journalism, she eventually settled on mental health as a career and loves her work, saying, "I'm endlessly fascinated with people's stories."
She enjoys many outdoor sports including bodyboarding, scuba diving, beach walking, gardening and hiking. She lives in Hawaii with her family and dogs.
Toby credits her counseling background in adding depth to her characters–from the villains to Lei Texeira, the courageous and vulnerable heroine in the Lei Crime Series.
Purchase Blood Orchids here (again, available free on Amazon today only!) no Kindle required.
Author of Blood Orchids, Toby Neal
also, check out Toby's website!
http://www.tobyneal.net/
Thanks as always for your attention and we welcome comments directed to Toby or I below. Follow Toby on Twitter at @TobyWNeal or myself at both @RachelintheOC or my new social media consulting Twitter stream @BadRedheadMedia where I give out free Twitter tips throughout the day.
Need help with Twitter, branding, author branding or marketing for your small biz? Click here for my info and fees.
Finally, MANCODE and SNARK are still in the Parenting and Family Amazon Top 20 thanks to all your lovely downloads, purchases, reviews and support. If you haven't purchased them yet, ask yourself this question: Do you feel…left out?
Related articles
Traumatic Growth From Victim, to Survivor, to Thriver (almostclever.wordpress.com)
Blood Orchids and Growing Old (damyantiwrites.wordpress.com)
The Aftermath of Childhood Sexual Abuse (everydayhealth.com)
February 27, 2012
CAGED: AN EXCERPT FROM ‘BROKEN PIECES’
I’ve been working on my new collection of essays titled Broken Pieces. I’ve kept a bit quiet about it since I’m going in a new direction. Still nonfiction of course (this IS me after all) but if you’ve read my first book or blog awhile, you’ll know I’m not always the funny girl. I’m not even always snarky. But I am always honest.
However, it’s not that much of a departure really, since the themes that always run through my work are men, women, relationships, love, loss, fear, heartbreak — ya know, the usual (oh, come on! I’ve got to get the snark in somewhere). I write about my own experiences, those of people I know, story ideas, even magazine articles inspire.
I do write poetry in addition to essays and fiction. People seem surprised by that. Maybe cause I live in the OC. 
Here’s a small sample:
CAGED
CAGED
The right answer
Turn and walk away
But…his arms so strong
His words caress her soul
She abandons her resolve in his heat.
Unsure how it starts
Found to lost
One day she watches birds fly
On apathetic wings
The next he stands behind her
His hands inside her heart
Damage–her new home
Where she lays her head
Where guilt and lust meet
Still, she cannot leave
His eyes hold her still
You are mine, he tells her
I own you now
She doesn’t disagree
Her breath awake
Her skin burns
Real or imagined
His hold on her
His voice, his promises
Of life together
Pieces of her
All he needs.
I appreciate all comments, suggestions, emails, retweets, thoughts, brownies, whatev.
A bit of housekeeping: The MANCODE: EXPOSED will be completely FREE one day only TOMORROW, Tuesday, February 28! Amazon eBook exclusive, click here to download but remember, wait until TOMORROW. (Even if you don’t have a Kindle, you can download it — they have free apps for smartphone, computer, tablet, even cloud.) Be sure to also check out the Kindle Nation Facebook page on Tuesday where I’ll be featured!
Also, I’m doing a virtual meet and greet book event — also tomorrow! 3pm PST/6pm EST via Shindig Events. It’s SO cool. You can sign in with your name and email or simply via Facebook. If you download my eBook free, I can Kindlegraph it for you. Let’s meet, talk about men and women and chocolate and stuff.
Gotta love technology, man.
Related articles
Review: A Soul Less Broken by Helen Laibach (bookdout.wordpress.com)
After the Storm (amyjosprague.wordpress.com)
CAGED: AN EXCERPT FROM 'BROKEN PIECES'
I've been working on my new collection of essays titled Broken Pieces. I've kept a bit quiet about it since I'm going in a new direction. Still nonfiction of course (this IS me after all) but if you've read my first book or blog awhile, you'll know I'm not always the funny girl. I'm not even always snarky. But I am always honest.
However, it's not that much of a departure really, since the themes that always run through my work are men, women, relationships, love, loss, fear, heartbreak — ya know, the usual (oh, come on! I've got to get the snark in somewhere). I write about my own experiences, those of people I know, story ideas, even magazine articles inspire.
I do write poetry in addition to essays and fiction. People seem surprised by that. Maybe cause I live in the OC.
Here's a small sample:
CAGED
CAGED
The right answer
Turn and walk away
But…his arms so strong
His words caress her soul
She abandons her resolve in his heat.
Unsure how it starts
Found to lost
One day she watches birds fly
On apathetic wings
The next he stands behind her
His hands inside her heart
Damage–her new home
Where she lays her head
Where guilt and lust meet
Still, she cannot leave
His eyes hold her still
You are mine, he tells her
I own you now
She doesn't disagree
Her breath awake
Her skin burns
Real or imagined
His hold on her
His voice, his promises
Of life together
Pieces of her
All he needs.
I appreciate all comments, suggestions, emails, retweets, thoughts, brownies, whatev.
A bit of housekeeping: The MANCODE: EXPOSED will be completely FREE one day only TOMORROW, Tuesday, February 28! Amazon eBook exclusive, click here to download but remember, wait until TOMORROW. (Even if you don't have a Kindle, you can download it — they have free apps for smartphone, computer, tablet, even cloud.) Be sure to also check out the Kindle Nation Facebook page on Tuesday where I'll be featured!
Also, I'm doing a virtual meet and greet book event — also tomorrow! 3pm PST/6pm EST via Shindig Events. It's SO cool. You can sign in with your name and email or simply via Facebook. If you download my eBook free, I can Kindlegraph it for you. Let's meet, talk about men and women and chocolate and stuff.
Gotta love technology, man.
Related articles
Review: A Soul Less Broken by Helen Laibach (bookdout.wordpress.com)
After the Storm (amyjosprague.wordpress.com)
February 23, 2012
FIRST I EXPOSED MEN. NOW I'M SELLING THEM. SAY WHAT?
Why is today different than any other day?
Mancode: Exposed only 99cents this week!
It's not, really. Maybe not for you. It's just another day of spilled coffee, kids whining, and laundry to fold. Oh wait, that's me.
However, today is a big deal for this chick. People like to give me lots of nicknames, but mostly I go by RachelintheOC, aka the Queen of Snark and oh, don't forget BadRedhead. #asif
Here are a few facts about me (and we'll get to the BIG deal in a minute):
My first book, A Walk In The Snark , an essay collection based on my popular blog RachelintheOC.com, hit #1 on the Kindle Motherhood list last fall and has become a mainstay, beating out the likes of (ahem, celebrity blondies) Tori Spelling and Jenny McCarthy. This book covers men, women, and relationships, but also more poignant topics like loss and grief — which, I don't know, kinda seems to piss some people off. And that kinda makes me happy. #hehe
My second book, The Mancode: Exposed , released in December, hit #1 on multiple lists (Motherhood, Parenting and Family, Parenting and Relationships) as well as placing in the overall Amazon Top 100 in January – within its first month of release! This book is all-out humor: men (Mancode), women (Chickspeak), love, relationships, sex, and of course, chocolate.
I'm a cofounder of the popular group, the Indie Book Collective. While no longer an active member, I volunteered my time helping hundreds of writers learn the ins and outs of book promotion and social media for over a year and cowrote Dollars and Sense: The Definitive Guide To Self-Publishing Success . Check it out.
My social media consulting group, BadRedhead Media , specializes in social media, particularly Twitter, helping authors learn branding, and figuring out the world of Amazon. My clients are varied, cover all genres, and live all over the world. Follow @BadRedheadMedia on Twitter for free tips or visit my page here for fees and info.
Everyone needs a little BadRedhead in their life
So…what's the BIG deal?
Starting today, for THREE DAYS ONLY, The Mancode: Exposed is 99cents! (Reg. price $2.99.) Yep, you read that right. That's why THURSDAY – SATURDAY, is special. Only these three days so don't wait! And be sure to check out Kindle Nation for even more deets. Yea, baby.
No strings, no hoops. Simple click here (Amazon exclusive, no Kindle required) and purchase your discounted copy of this popular #1 bestselling humorous collection of essays on men, women, relationships, chocolate, and sex. (Adult content warning.)
Remember, no Kindle is required to download an Amazon eBook. But you already knew that, yes? Simply download their free Kindle apps for computer, tablet, or smartphone. Even cloud. It's very easy.
Do you have questions? Follow me here on my site, Twitter, Facebook, or email me at RachelintheOC@gmail.com. I'm usually very friendly….after coffee. Especially if you send Nutella (hint: I'm a fan).
Finally, I'm happy (well, as happy as I get) to eSign my eBooks for you (go to Kindlegraph.com) to request my signature. Again, no Kindle required. It kinda rocks.
Thanks for hanging and enjoy the discounted read!
Related articles
Resolutions Are Stupid (rachelintheoc.com)
Life in Quotations; Featuring Rachel in the OC (kellieelmore.com)
February 19, 2012
WHY THE BOYS RUN: ONE INTIMATE ANSWER guest post by @JustinBog
My guest today is writer Justin Bogdanovitch. His writing is seamless, skilled, heartbreaking. I hope you enjoy this powerful piece about his past where he discusses the burden of secrets.
WHY THE BOYS RUN: ONE INTIMATE ANSWER
Justin is Zippy's lapdog
Rachel, I thank you very much for allowing me to be a guest on your blog. This is my first foray into autobiographical writing. Facing down my hidden fears and looking at them with new eyes helps me change bad habits and made me realize that what I was so fearful of in the past is no longer a haunt.
Do gay men, as opposed to straight men, treat women all that differently?
I say, yes? What about when we were younger, playing kickball at recess with little Charity, Amber, Staury, Dee, Jane, and Dionne? I was always picked last with the girls, and didn't mind at all, but how did I treat girls? Women? Very nicely, but if they wanted to really get to know me, I ran away, and kept running away for quite a long time. From my adult vantage point, I can look back to when I was a kid and imagine myself running to beat records, sprinting across fields, down roads, chased by hordes of girls, who will grow up into hordes of women I can't allow to learn my shamed-by-society secret. In my youth this was the case, and thankfully, now, incrementally, it's getting just a bit better.
I was a fast runner. Bullies couldn't catch me either and if they came close I stood up to them (only twice, folks). I won these two physical fights I was baited to be a part of in fifth grade, and we were dragged into the Vice Principal's office. They didn't pick fights with me after that because I fought back.
I come from a family of jocks (tennis player still, and darn frustrating to hit against because of my style of play, or so I hear). I was — and still view myself as — one of the many nerds in our town pack, a four-eyed square. The chasing began with a girl who wanted to kiss me in 3rd-grade (loved to plant kisses on any of the boys). A couple days in a row, she chased me, and if she caught me that would've been my first kiss — she somehow looked past my awkward geek aura. She would eventually end up catching a slow-running somebody in high school and drop out because she got pregnant. I continued to be chased at all the disco-era, Amii Stewart's-Knock On Wood-junior high dances by a friend, a classmate who was nice, but I still felt compelled to run, and then I became the My-Pal-Friday to a wonderful girl in my high school class, and lived vicariously through her exploits. Once in high school, I didn't go to Proms.
None of my classmates, friends, or family members, ever realized I was gay or put it together, not exactly, and I don't go back to reunions after the 5-year reunion where there wasn't anything better to do and, besides, I was stuck in my Ohio town that summer. I finally bought contact lenses and I had filled out from years of running, a stint on the University of Michigan Crew Team, and eventual preparation to compete in triathlons — yes, there are gay jocks, kids.
At the reunion, my junior high pursuer came up to me and said: "I had the biggest crush on you."
And I said: "I know." But in a kind way. I thought: Now, I find it flattering. (I never let her catch me, but treated her and everyone as well-mannered as I could — stood up for anyone, and continue to do so — fight for the underdog.)
All throughout high school, the most disturbing bully, a verbal-abuse bully, would call me a 'faggot' or 'fag', whisper it as an insidious threat (the good thing was that our paths seldom crossed - we were on different college-planning tracks). He approached me at the 5-year reunion, I recognized his presence immediately, and I physically flinched away from him. He saw my reaction and I could guess from his tightened facial expression he was hurting, that what he had done was eating away at him, or had been for some time. He apologized to me during this quiet moment, said he was sorry for being a jerk, short and sweet. I looked him in the eye and said, "Thank you." He left my air space. I was still in the closet at this reunion, and even then, no one knew, except for this nightmare bully figure; somehow, it was obvious to him, but my changed appearance at the reunion made him believe he'd been wrong about his assumption.
It is strange to look back and realize that for half of my life I internalized such a huge secret. In college, the girls continued to pursue me, and, I, to push them away. I kept myself busy, worked two jobs, filled up my days so tightly there wasn't time to romance anyone. See? I have to work. In this era began the onset of AIDS, and, in my senior year of high school, I heard that anyone gay was going to get a mysterious fatal disease and die, that some people were cheering because of this. I was bad; I was gay; I was going to get sick and die — people knew very little. Early on, the experts even called it GRID: Gay Related Immune Deficiency. This threw me into a life a monk would be envious of for a very long time, and definitely throughout my college years. I had another thing, a dark thing, chasing me besides girls. Keep busy. Who had time for girls? Who had time to be gay? Run faster.
I guess I was a good actor. After college graduation, meeting my mate was a little over a year ahead in my future, and I was on a path to write write write away while working low-paying jobs in Ann Arbor, Michigan, and applying for MFA programs in Fiction Writing for a fall 1989 entrance. Secretive, I frequented the one dance club in Ann Arbor that had one gay night a week, going early so I wouldn't have to pay the cover charge, and leaving early because I had to get to work the next morning by 7:30, seldom speaking to anyone in the cigarette smoke-filled space, and never dancing, rarely letting anyone get close enough . . . I slowly came out of my shell, so to speak, met good people, enjoyed my life for the first time in ages and went to a pizza and game night.
My future mate was also there, playing Balderdash.
I was admitted into the Creative Writing programs at Emerson in Boston and Bowling Green State University in Ohio. Both were highly-praised smaller programs, and Emerson, in my mind, only because it was in Boston, was the more prestigious, but I decided on BGSU; it was only a 90-minute drive away from Ann Arbor, and that's where my mate lived. I met him on November 2nd, 1988, pizza night, and from the beginning I told him I was leaving next fall. If he still wanted to pursue me (thankfully, the last person to do so), I was going away, leaving for school, perhaps running away again, and if he wanted to get to know me better, he'd, we would, have to take that into consideration — by this time I was a pro at keeping people at arm's length.
Because I ran away so much, I didn't know how to date anyone either but we stumbled through the first year, breaking down invisible walls. My mate's experiences eerily coincided with my own, both our fathers had the same first name, both worked at Universities, and the socio-economic factors were identical as well. I wondered how many others there were out there exactly like us: plenty, and this made me happier. We talked a lot about long-distance relationships. My parents thought my mate was just a best friend, as did my four sisters and brothers.
I applied to the schools using my middle name: Justin. My parents named us five Bog kids well and they loved the first and middle names equally so when I told them I wanted to be called Justin from that moment on, in my 23rd year, they didn't mind the change. I started with that easy pitch, and then I told them I was gay, following up with a humdinger. They internalized my revelation, showed no real reaction, which was par for the course; my parents were liberal Democrats, and not religious, worried about societal problems. They accepted Chris into the family immediately, but did not fully accept the fact that one of their kids happened to be gay, wrestled with it for a long time, and much later told me that old chestnut: "society thinks it's abnormal" – that created drama is a different, long and twisting story and it was a strange family time for us . . . we got over it and tried to plow new dirt.
There were two family/friends with the name Gregory in my mate's close family circle and I would've been the 3rd, so I applied to grad school as Justin . . . it was such a breath of fresh air to be in a place where no one knew me as Gregory; I felt like a new person, like I had a clean slate, and could finally leave my childhood and college loner behind.
I've now been with my mate over half my life . . . the only person in my life I ever dated, and he was the one who caught me. He and I celebrate our 24th anniversary this coming November, and in our home state of Washington, the Governor recently signed her name to allow same-sex marriages. After such a very long engagement, I hope Kipling, my long coat German shepherd puppy, is ready to be a ring bearer.
Kipling channeling her inner Frodo
Justin Bogdanovitch grew up a voracious reader, movie fanatic, and music audiophile. He began to make up stories of his own, using an old typewriter he found dusting away in the attic.
He graduated with an English Degree at the University of Michigan — with several Creative Writing, Film and Music Appreciation classes — and later from Bowling Green State University with an MFA in Fiction Writing.
Currently residing in the San Juan Islands just north of Seattle, he has the opportunity to focus on his own novels and short stories, while contributing commentary and recommendations in Pop Culture as the Senior Contributor and Editor at In Classic Style .
This year he will release his first eBook short story collection: Sandcastle and Other Stories , and his first eBook novel, a psychological family drama, Wake Me Up .
You should subscribe to Justin's blog A Writer's Life & follow him on Twitter @JustinBog .
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February 16, 2012
LONGING: THE DEFINITION OF ANGST
LONGING: THE DEFINITION OF ANGST
Valentine's Day.
It's so over.
Oh wait. It actually is. It was this past Tuesday.
My tween girl did not have a good Valentine's Day. Her friends with boyfriends received gifts and grams of some sort, and the only gram she received was from her sweet social studies teacher, a lovely woman.
By the time she came home to me, she was a sad little puddle.
Her: I don't really want a boyfriend.
Me: Okay.
Her: But today it would have been convenient.
When my husband picked her up from school, she told him she wanted to go by the store to pick up the "biggest card possible" for mom and special ingredients to make me a great dinner. He had to rein her in from also buying me flowers and chocolate and everything else possible and then…and then he had to make a comment to the line and the cashier, as men are wont to do, that she was 'projecting her desire for holiday happiness onto mom.'
#Mancode #doh #facepalm
Oh, men.
I'm not big on organized holidays where people are forced to show affection. I even have (get ready to shoot me) the same problem with Christmas. And it's not because I'm a (non-practicing) Jew. Please. I'm married to Santa. (That would be against some kind of Stocking Hung By The Chimney rule or something.)
Perhaps it's the rebel in me, but I'd much rather my guy bring flowers on a Tuesday in August for no apparent reason other than he loves me. Or put his hand on my hip as he slide past me in that room where food comes out of. Or whisper in my ear that I look pretty or hot or edible. #ahem
Sorry, what?
Oh yea. That means more to me than a card or dinner out.
Call me crazy.
Mostly I avoid getting sucked in because it sets up these ridiculous expectations for our tenderhearted special little people.
The six year-old is set. He's in Kindergarten. They have a party. He gets tons of Valentines from girls he thinks are stupid. And enough candy to help him crawl on the ceiling all night.
So the one who doesn't want them gets them, and the one who wants them doesn't get them.
(Why do I feel I should be talking about straight vs curly hair?)
I realize I can't protect her from longing. To be included. To be a part of something.
And I don't want to. She needs to feel this.
As I hugged my girl, soothing her sleeves full of heart, rocking her gently, whispering sweet nothings to her as mothers are wont to do, I realized okay, maybe I have to compromise my principles and give into tradition. For the sake of my baby girl's heart.
But will it mean the same coming from me? I'm only her mom. It's the swirling mass of awkward hormones and lipgloss school scene where it makes the difference.
If nothing else, I'm grateful to be there for my girl. She's a love, a beautiful, caring heart. She'll find her place, I have no doubt. (This is her art accompanying this post.) Art is already her home. It took me years to find my writing sanctuary.
My answer for now is that junior high school sucks. I remember it clearly. Age twelve was an extraordinarily difficult year for me (for reasons I'll discuss more in future posts and my next book). She handles it with far more grace than I.
So for now, the day of hearts and flowers is over.
Which means I have another year to pass my steely resolve on to her marshmallow heart.
Maybe it will take. I kinda hope it won't…
Related articles
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