Jennifer Wilck's Blog, page 39
January 9, 2017
When Facebook Goes Bad
Being my friend on Facebook does not give you license to berate me for an opinion*. I attended high school with approximately 1,300 other students. Just because you were one of them does not make us good friends (the same goes for any other association you and I might have—college, work, town, organization, etc.). It makes us have a location in common. If you were outside of my immediate friend group in high school, chances are, I had very little interaction with you, as I was a new student freshman year and I had a small group of friends. Since that time, I’ve gotten to know a lot of my fellow high school students better on Facebook than in school, a fact that amuses me greatly. Some of you I really do think of as friends, and I'm grateful for this social media platform that enabled our relationship. Others are mere acquaintances. Most of you make Facebook a fun place to be. But please recognize the boundaries.If I’m not someone you’d choose to have a conversation with in real life—you know, face-to-face, in person, over coffee or chocolate—then chances are, we shouldn’t be having a potentially contentious conversation on Facebook. If you don’t like something I post there, you can simply continue to scroll down your phone or computer screen. If necessary, you can “dislike” it. If you absolutely can’t let it go, you can respectfully offer an alternative opinion. But there’s no need to make a nasty comment. I don’t do it to you, and believe me, it’s not because you’ve never expressed an opinion I disagreed with.Social media gives us a false sense of security. It makes us feel as if we’re in a safe place and can say and do what we want with few consequences. It gives cowards a shield and idiots a platform. It gives us a microphone to reach a larger audience—without the annoying audio feedback and the incessant “Is this on?” It can also make us feel more important than we really are, thus giving us a license to say whatever we want, without thinking about the consequences.Let me be clear. I’m not a huge fan of argument because I don’t like conflict. However, I am happy to put aside that dislike and enter into discussions with someone who disagrees with me if the discussion is civil, respectful and polite. You might change my mind, I might change yours or we both may agree to disagree. Those conversations are often interesting, educational and eye opening.Disagree with my politics? Great, that’s what makes this a diverse nation. Tell me you disagree. Tell me why. Offer me an intelligent idea I haven’t considered before. Dislike my posts or don’t find my status funny? You’re entitled to your opinion and I believe your opinion is as valid as my own. We’re all different and that’s fantastic. Tell me your opinions nicely.But--and this is a big one--my wall is my safe space. And it is a safe space for others as well. I will not tolerate anyone berating me or anyone else I might happen to be friends with on my wall. I will not allow bigotry or bullying or anything else that might offend me or make me wonder if your comment might offend one of my friends. I will delete, unfriend, unfollow or block without a second thought, and I won’t miss you being part of my Facebook world.
*99% of my Facebook friends don't cause issues--this post is for the other 1%.
*99% of my Facebook friends don't cause issues--this post is for the other 1%.
January 2, 2017
Welcome 2017
It’s 2017. I’d like to say I’m glad 2016 is over, because there was a lot about the year didn’t like—our country’s behavior, individuals’ behaviors, the loss of important celebrities from my childhood, my disillusionment with work I was doing and the people for whom I was doing it. But there were also things about 2016 I loved—learning who my true friends were, the support of my writing community and great times with my family. I’m not convinced 2017 is going to be much better, but I’m determined to tackle it differently. No, I’m not making New Year’s resolutions—those are too easily broken, and to be honest, I put a bigger emphasis on the Jewish New Year than the secular one. But the Jewish New Year inspires me to work on myself and how I treat others. Moving into 2017 is inspiring my actions.I am no longer letting other people’s opinions about me negatively affect me (yeah, good one). I try to be a good person and to treat others well. I’m not perfect and I make mistakes. But if other people don’t have the nerve to talk to me about it and instead, want to carry a grudge, that’s their burden, not mine. I have enough baggage of my own, I’m not carrying theirs too.While I will go out of my way for others, I will not lose myself (there is no GPS in the world that can save me). There is only so much effort I can put into something before it becomes a lost cause and I’m not dealing with the stress.I am dedicating myself to the people and the things that make me happy. No, I’m not becoming a selfish “you-know-what.” But I’m readjusting my focus and listening to my body. Chances are, if something is making me miserable, I probably shouldn’t do it. There will be a few exceptions, but very few.I am exchanging fear for focus. The world is entering a scary place right now. I’m not going to overreact, but I’m not going to blindly accept things either. And I will support the causes that stand for justice and equality, regardless of what our leaders may do. I think that’s enough for now. I hope it is. And I wish everyone a year of love and hope and peace.
December 19, 2016
Chanukah Miracles
The sunlight is reflecting off of the metallic Chanukah decorations hanging from my windows, creating jewel-toned prisms on my walls. Every dreidel we’ve ever owned is piled into the ceramic dreidel bowl, waiting to be spun. The electric menorah, which I hate, sits in the window ready to be lit, where it will compete with the blue and white Jewish star lights our neighbor down the street has already lit. Chanukah snow globes and music boxes and candles—who decided we needed decorative candles for this holiday and why do I have them—are placed on display strategically around the house. Decorative plates are stacked, waiting for the homemade gelt, latkes and fried Oreos to be made. The only thing left to do is to put out our personal menorahsand candles when Chanukah actually arrives.
There is a fine line between decorating for this holiday and making my house look like the Chanukah fairy threw up in it. No, there’s no Chanukah fairy. Chanukah’s miracle is the oil that lasted eight days, rather than one. It’s the victory of the Maccabeas over the Greeks. And for me, it’s the fact that no matter how much people have inflated the holiday in an attempt to compete with Christmas, it still remains a non-commercialized fairly minor holiday.
That’s not to say I won’t insist on celebrating it with my family. This year, it falls over winter break and we’ve already had the discussion about whether or not the Princess can go out with her friends at night during Chanukah. My response? Of course, as long as you’re home to light the candles first. Because there’s a difference between a minor holiday and an unimportant holiday. And if we let the celebration slide, the miracles disappear.
I think we’ve taught that lesson well. It was the Princess who asked me last week when we were going to decorate for Chanukah. Sure, the “we” really meant “Mom,” but even she wants the decorations up. The wish lists were made, but it’s the traditions we’ve established that the kids talk about: making latkes from scratch, making fried Oreos, decorating, inviting friends over to celebrate with us—this year, the Princess even wants to invite her non-Jewish friends.
So I’m going to add to that list of Chanukah miracles. I’m going to add my children’s desire to celebrate the holiday, when so many other things have fallen by the wayside. That even though there aren’t a lot of gifts being opened, they’ve separated out the gift-giving from the holiday-celebrating, and they still want to participate. They’re growing up, but not out-growing, this holiday. And that’s what I will be thankful for these upcoming eight days of Chanukah.
There is a fine line between decorating for this holiday and making my house look like the Chanukah fairy threw up in it. No, there’s no Chanukah fairy. Chanukah’s miracle is the oil that lasted eight days, rather than one. It’s the victory of the Maccabeas over the Greeks. And for me, it’s the fact that no matter how much people have inflated the holiday in an attempt to compete with Christmas, it still remains a non-commercialized fairly minor holiday.
That’s not to say I won’t insist on celebrating it with my family. This year, it falls over winter break and we’ve already had the discussion about whether or not the Princess can go out with her friends at night during Chanukah. My response? Of course, as long as you’re home to light the candles first. Because there’s a difference between a minor holiday and an unimportant holiday. And if we let the celebration slide, the miracles disappear.
I think we’ve taught that lesson well. It was the Princess who asked me last week when we were going to decorate for Chanukah. Sure, the “we” really meant “Mom,” but even she wants the decorations up. The wish lists were made, but it’s the traditions we’ve established that the kids talk about: making latkes from scratch, making fried Oreos, decorating, inviting friends over to celebrate with us—this year, the Princess even wants to invite her non-Jewish friends.
So I’m going to add to that list of Chanukah miracles. I’m going to add my children’s desire to celebrate the holiday, when so many other things have fallen by the wayside. That even though there aren’t a lot of gifts being opened, they’ve separated out the gift-giving from the holiday-celebrating, and they still want to participate. They’re growing up, but not out-growing, this holiday. And that’s what I will be thankful for these upcoming eight days of Chanukah.
December 12, 2016
My Amazing Critique Partners
As a writer, I tend to live in my own private bubble. It’s a lovely bubble, where chocolate and coffee and tea flow freely, the people I create in my head are as close to perfect as I can get (even when they are completely imperfect with flaws), and there are no negative influences from the outside world.
But in order to make sure my books are readable (and sellable), at some point in the process, I have to step out of my bubble and show people what I’ve written.
Gulp.
That means letting people into the scary world that exists inside my head and hoping they come out unscathed.
Luckily for me, I’ve been fortunate enough to have several amazing critique partners along the way. And from what I understand, that’s not a normal thing.
My first critique partners, Jan and Paula, were absolutely amazing. They pointed out errors in timing, showed me where things didn’t make sense and most importantly, taught me that opening myself up to others and allowing them to read what I’ve written wasn’t nearly as horrible as I thought it would be. Beyond the benefits of being able to improve my writing, I learned that there is community to be found when sharing with other writers. I will forever be grateful to them.
My critique partner, Laurie, is a plotting genius. I tend to have a vision for one character—since I write romance, I need at least two, though. I usually have some idea of what psychological motivation the character has, but she helps me flesh out the rest of it, as well as external motivation as well. I’m geographically challenged, which apparently also carries over to writing, so I depend on her to help me get my characters from Point A to Point B, without getting lost in the weeds or forgetting about something I mentioned in chapter five. Usually a discussion over a strong cup of coffee or a thirty-minute phone conversation solves all my problems. I don’t know what I’d do without her.
Then there is my critique group. When I received a call from Miriam to join her, Lisa and Nancy as a member of her critique group, I looked at the phone, convinced she’d dialed the wrong number. These women are GOOD and I couldn’t figure out what I could possibly bring to the table. But all four of us have unique ways of looking at the same story and our critiques add dimension. Additionally, being part of a group that meets in person helps me develop a thick skin. Trust me, there is NOTHING more embarrassing than hearing parts of your sex scene read out loud and realizing they rhyme (if you can think of something more embarrassing, PLEASE tell me). Or worse, you’ve created a Gumby-like contortionist.
I still like living in my bubble and disappearing into my world that I create. But there’s nothing like writer friends who take our craft seriously, who lift each other up and who truly understand how crazy this whole process is.
Thank you to all!
But in order to make sure my books are readable (and sellable), at some point in the process, I have to step out of my bubble and show people what I’ve written.
Gulp.
That means letting people into the scary world that exists inside my head and hoping they come out unscathed.
Luckily for me, I’ve been fortunate enough to have several amazing critique partners along the way. And from what I understand, that’s not a normal thing.
My first critique partners, Jan and Paula, were absolutely amazing. They pointed out errors in timing, showed me where things didn’t make sense and most importantly, taught me that opening myself up to others and allowing them to read what I’ve written wasn’t nearly as horrible as I thought it would be. Beyond the benefits of being able to improve my writing, I learned that there is community to be found when sharing with other writers. I will forever be grateful to them.
My critique partner, Laurie, is a plotting genius. I tend to have a vision for one character—since I write romance, I need at least two, though. I usually have some idea of what psychological motivation the character has, but she helps me flesh out the rest of it, as well as external motivation as well. I’m geographically challenged, which apparently also carries over to writing, so I depend on her to help me get my characters from Point A to Point B, without getting lost in the weeds or forgetting about something I mentioned in chapter five. Usually a discussion over a strong cup of coffee or a thirty-minute phone conversation solves all my problems. I don’t know what I’d do without her.
Then there is my critique group. When I received a call from Miriam to join her, Lisa and Nancy as a member of her critique group, I looked at the phone, convinced she’d dialed the wrong number. These women are GOOD and I couldn’t figure out what I could possibly bring to the table. But all four of us have unique ways of looking at the same story and our critiques add dimension. Additionally, being part of a group that meets in person helps me develop a thick skin. Trust me, there is NOTHING more embarrassing than hearing parts of your sex scene read out loud and realizing they rhyme (if you can think of something more embarrassing, PLEASE tell me). Or worse, you’ve created a Gumby-like contortionist.
I still like living in my bubble and disappearing into my world that I create. But there’s nothing like writer friends who take our craft seriously, who lift each other up and who truly understand how crazy this whole process is.
Thank you to all!
December 5, 2016
Gratitude
I love Thanksgiving, but I’m not a big fan of going around the table and announcing what you’re thankful for. It seems a bit contrived to me, and I hate having the spotlight on me. No matter how grateful for things and people I might be, when it’s my turn, my mind goes blank.
I tried for a while to make it into a group craft project—everyone got a turkey feather and a pen, they wrote what they were grateful for, we tried to guess who said what and afterwards, I put the feathers on the turkey and had a holiday keepsake (thank you, Donna, for the idea). But this year we didn’t do it and the holiday passed without any gratefulness ritual.
However, now that Thanksgiving is past, I’d like to say what I’m grateful for (in no particular order, other than the first, I swear!)—blogging it is so much easier because no one is staring me down. J
I’m grateful for my husband and kids—for driving me crazy in all the best ways and never failing to make me laugh.I’m grateful for a stainless-steel teapot I can’t melt (yet) and a Keurig the Princess thinks she bought for herself—both of these items keep me caffeinated, calm, warm and functioning.I’m grateful for family and friends (and friends who are like family)—for the support and love they provide, even when I don’t expect it.I’m grateful for beautiful sunsets—for giving me something to be grateful for when I’m convinced (temporarily) there’s nothing else.I’m grateful for my writer buddies and critique partners—for never letting me give up and for completely understanding why hearing voices in my head does not necessarily mean I’m insane.I’m grateful for moments of silence in the car and Monday mornings—for allowing me to rejuvenate temporarily so I can be personable and back “on” when needed.I’m grateful for Twitter—for keeping me entertained during the political ruckus.I’m grateful for the words of Maya Angelou, Cory Booker and Madeleine L’Engle—for always seeming to say the exact right thing at the right time.
Here’s hoping we remember to be grateful now and always, not just around the Thanksgiving table.
I tried for a while to make it into a group craft project—everyone got a turkey feather and a pen, they wrote what they were grateful for, we tried to guess who said what and afterwards, I put the feathers on the turkey and had a holiday keepsake (thank you, Donna, for the idea). But this year we didn’t do it and the holiday passed without any gratefulness ritual.
However, now that Thanksgiving is past, I’d like to say what I’m grateful for (in no particular order, other than the first, I swear!)—blogging it is so much easier because no one is staring me down. J
I’m grateful for my husband and kids—for driving me crazy in all the best ways and never failing to make me laugh.I’m grateful for a stainless-steel teapot I can’t melt (yet) and a Keurig the Princess thinks she bought for herself—both of these items keep me caffeinated, calm, warm and functioning.I’m grateful for family and friends (and friends who are like family)—for the support and love they provide, even when I don’t expect it.I’m grateful for beautiful sunsets—for giving me something to be grateful for when I’m convinced (temporarily) there’s nothing else.I’m grateful for my writer buddies and critique partners—for never letting me give up and for completely understanding why hearing voices in my head does not necessarily mean I’m insane.I’m grateful for moments of silence in the car and Monday mornings—for allowing me to rejuvenate temporarily so I can be personable and back “on” when needed.I’m grateful for Twitter—for keeping me entertained during the political ruckus.I’m grateful for the words of Maya Angelou, Cory Booker and Madeleine L’Engle—for always seeming to say the exact right thing at the right time.
Here’s hoping we remember to be grateful now and always, not just around the Thanksgiving table.
November 21, 2016
It's The Little Things
Writing is hard. It’s frustrating and it’s isolating. There are no guarantees that your manuscript will get published, and even if you do publish, there are no guarantees that people will buy your book.
Then there are the reviews. In order to sell your book and get visibility as an author, you need readers to review what you’ve written. But reviews are subjective and after pouring your heart and soul into something, when someone hates what you’ve written, it stings.
Pushing past all of those obstacles is tough. Trying not to let it get you down is even more difficult. Add in regular life and it can seem almost impossible to persevere.
I was just about ready to give up. Seriously. It’s been so long since I’ve felt good about anything having to do with my writing that I wanted to just stop.
And then over the past couple of months, I’ve gotten breadcrumbs of good news. An editor might be interested in one of my manuscripts. Another editor might be interested in a different manuscript, one which I thought was dead in the water.
And I finaled in a contest. Now, to clarify, I DID NOT WIN. Someone else did. Yay for them! But I was a finalist. And they didn’t let everyone be a finalist because I entered three books and only one of them finaled (that actually makes me feel better). So it’s something. Not a lot, because there are lots of contests. But in this one, I did well.
Those breadcrumbs are enough for me to keep going, for me to convince myself to persevere just a little longer. It put a smile on my face for a day.
So I’m not giving up. I’m meeting my self-set daily word counts. I’m finishing manuscripts and I’m giving them to my critique partners to tear apart so I can put them back together better, stronger and sellable. I’m hoping the publicity from the contest—because apparently it comes with publicity—will get more people to read and review my books. And every time self-doubt creeps in, I’m reminding myself that I can do this.
It’s the little things.
Then there are the reviews. In order to sell your book and get visibility as an author, you need readers to review what you’ve written. But reviews are subjective and after pouring your heart and soul into something, when someone hates what you’ve written, it stings.
Pushing past all of those obstacles is tough. Trying not to let it get you down is even more difficult. Add in regular life and it can seem almost impossible to persevere.
I was just about ready to give up. Seriously. It’s been so long since I’ve felt good about anything having to do with my writing that I wanted to just stop.
And then over the past couple of months, I’ve gotten breadcrumbs of good news. An editor might be interested in one of my manuscripts. Another editor might be interested in a different manuscript, one which I thought was dead in the water.
And I finaled in a contest. Now, to clarify, I DID NOT WIN. Someone else did. Yay for them! But I was a finalist. And they didn’t let everyone be a finalist because I entered three books and only one of them finaled (that actually makes me feel better). So it’s something. Not a lot, because there are lots of contests. But in this one, I did well.
Those breadcrumbs are enough for me to keep going, for me to convince myself to persevere just a little longer. It put a smile on my face for a day.
So I’m not giving up. I’m meeting my self-set daily word counts. I’m finishing manuscripts and I’m giving them to my critique partners to tear apart so I can put them back together better, stronger and sellable. I’m hoping the publicity from the contest—because apparently it comes with publicity—will get more people to read and review my books. And every time self-doubt creeps in, I’m reminding myself that I can do this.
It’s the little things.
November 14, 2016
The Aftermath
I don’t know about you, but I’ve had it with the election. I’m done with reading everyone’s posts on Facebook for or against the results, prophesizing doom and gloom or a new dawn. That’s not to say I don’t have my own opinions, because I do. I’m not hiding my head in the sand, I’m looking forward with realism and making sure I’m prepared. And if you’re reading this blog, I’m sure you have an inkling of where I stand. But the last thing I want is a lot of political comments on my blog. Therefore, I’m remaining silent here.
So…I am grateful for one thing that resulted from this election. It’s personal, it’s within my own insular bubble, but it’s what has gotten me through this past week (in addition to looking forward to the chocolate expo, which was yummy!) and it’s what is going to carry me through the next four years.
Kindness.
No, I’m not oblivious to the hatred that has been spewed since the election cycle has started, or has risen up on both sides since the results were tallied. I’m not naïve enough to think I, or my friends, won’t experience it personally. The kindness I’m talking about, though, is different.
It’s in the deep breath I take before responding to someone, the extra care I’m taking with my words and the smile and manners I’m trying extra hard to use when talking to people.
It’s in the defense of a teacher my daughter provided when said teacher was questioned in the classroom about her vote—and the conversation at home is created about the necessity of standing up and speaking out whenever you see unjust behavior.
It’s in the silence of normally outspoken people who realize that now might not be the best time to gloat, when emotions are still so raw.
It’s in the donations I’ve made to organizations and political groups to continue their work, and the concrete suggestions made my friends about how to help.
Hatred is easy to find. It feeds off of fear, and right now, everyone is afraid. But kindness is just as easy to find and can feed just as easily. While kindness alone isn’t enough to accomplish anything, it’s a good start.
So…I am grateful for one thing that resulted from this election. It’s personal, it’s within my own insular bubble, but it’s what has gotten me through this past week (in addition to looking forward to the chocolate expo, which was yummy!) and it’s what is going to carry me through the next four years.
Kindness.
No, I’m not oblivious to the hatred that has been spewed since the election cycle has started, or has risen up on both sides since the results were tallied. I’m not naïve enough to think I, or my friends, won’t experience it personally. The kindness I’m talking about, though, is different.
It’s in the deep breath I take before responding to someone, the extra care I’m taking with my words and the smile and manners I’m trying extra hard to use when talking to people.
It’s in the defense of a teacher my daughter provided when said teacher was questioned in the classroom about her vote—and the conversation at home is created about the necessity of standing up and speaking out whenever you see unjust behavior.
It’s in the silence of normally outspoken people who realize that now might not be the best time to gloat, when emotions are still so raw.
It’s in the donations I’ve made to organizations and political groups to continue their work, and the concrete suggestions made my friends about how to help.
Hatred is easy to find. It feeds off of fear, and right now, everyone is afraid. But kindness is just as easy to find and can feed just as easily. While kindness alone isn’t enough to accomplish anything, it’s a good start.
November 7, 2016
It's Almost Here
We’re standing on the precipice of change. Tomorrow is Election Day (just in case you’ve been living under a rock—and if you have, can I join you?) and no matter who wins, life is going to be different.
From the sound of things, there may be violence and unrest and actions more suited to a non-democratic nation than ours. I hope I’m wrong.
I also hope there is a way to return to the way things were—no, I DON’T mean “Make America Great Again.” But I would like people to have hope that things will get better, a vision for a future we can be proud to leave our children and grandchildren, and understanding for our fellow human beings.
Watching this endless election season has been painful. At times it’s felt like a reality show. At other times it’s felt like the end of the world. And although it’s resulted in some interesting conversations in my house, I, like everyone else, will be glad when it’s over.
As naïve as I may seem, I’m going to hope and pray that “right” wins. That we prove to the world that we are a just nation. That we “go high” in all things.
And for those who despair, keep this in mind. The Princess* spent all weekend laundering every piece of clothing she owns because the piles and mess were causing her anxiety and she wanted to organize them so she could see what clothing she owns and what she needs.
If she can do that, anything is possible.
* Yes, for those who know, I should call her the General. But that implies she has too much power. So she's staying the Princess.
From the sound of things, there may be violence and unrest and actions more suited to a non-democratic nation than ours. I hope I’m wrong.
I also hope there is a way to return to the way things were—no, I DON’T mean “Make America Great Again.” But I would like people to have hope that things will get better, a vision for a future we can be proud to leave our children and grandchildren, and understanding for our fellow human beings.
Watching this endless election season has been painful. At times it’s felt like a reality show. At other times it’s felt like the end of the world. And although it’s resulted in some interesting conversations in my house, I, like everyone else, will be glad when it’s over.
As naïve as I may seem, I’m going to hope and pray that “right” wins. That we prove to the world that we are a just nation. That we “go high” in all things.
And for those who despair, keep this in mind. The Princess* spent all weekend laundering every piece of clothing she owns because the piles and mess were causing her anxiety and she wanted to organize them so she could see what clothing she owns and what she needs.
If she can do that, anything is possible.
* Yes, for those who know, I should call her the General. But that implies she has too much power. So she's staying the Princess.
October 31, 2016
Halloween
It’s Halloween. I used to hate the holiday. When my kids were in preschool and elementary school, I swear, the holiday lasted the entire month. Even during middle school, the stress of finding the perfect costume and making the best plans started in September and drove me nuts.
But now my kids are in high school and for the first time, neither one is doing anything. One isn’t feeling well, the other just isn’t into it this year. They requested candy but without trick or treating, it’s no different from any other day (not that I buy them candy ever). It’s one of those “lasts” that make me realize how fast this year is slipping by and how many changes there will be next year.
I tried to force it this weekend with a trip to the pumpkin patch. I played the, “But it’s your last time at home and we need to pick out pumpkins together” card, and it only semi-worked. Like I said, one wasn’t feeling well and the other wasn’t into it. I got pictures, begrudgingly, only some of which I’m allowed to post.
We didn’t carve a jack-o-lantern. Instead, my husband did this:
I actually love it, but it’s different from previous years and I’m not sure I like “different.”
However, I think I’m learning that the times I’m going to like best are the ones I don’t force. The times when one goes upstairs to bed and comes down ten minutes later for “one last hug.” The giggles at the dinner table. The conversations that occur spur-of-the-moment. The little things that I notice while being present, rather than the big things that I set up and somehow don’t go as planned.
So yeah, my kids are probably too old for Halloween. And my giving them candy is really no different than any day of the year. And my husband was more into the pumpkin than they were. But I’m keeping my fingers crossed that somehow, at some point today, something is going to strike me and I’ll notice something sweet about the day.
And worst case, I’ll get the Reese’s all to myself.
But now my kids are in high school and for the first time, neither one is doing anything. One isn’t feeling well, the other just isn’t into it this year. They requested candy but without trick or treating, it’s no different from any other day (not that I buy them candy ever). It’s one of those “lasts” that make me realize how fast this year is slipping by and how many changes there will be next year.
I tried to force it this weekend with a trip to the pumpkin patch. I played the, “But it’s your last time at home and we need to pick out pumpkins together” card, and it only semi-worked. Like I said, one wasn’t feeling well and the other wasn’t into it. I got pictures, begrudgingly, only some of which I’m allowed to post.
We didn’t carve a jack-o-lantern. Instead, my husband did this:
I actually love it, but it’s different from previous years and I’m not sure I like “different.”
However, I think I’m learning that the times I’m going to like best are the ones I don’t force. The times when one goes upstairs to bed and comes down ten minutes later for “one last hug.” The giggles at the dinner table. The conversations that occur spur-of-the-moment. The little things that I notice while being present, rather than the big things that I set up and somehow don’t go as planned.
So yeah, my kids are probably too old for Halloween. And my giving them candy is really no different than any day of the year. And my husband was more into the pumpkin than they were. But I’m keeping my fingers crossed that somehow, at some point today, something is going to strike me and I’ll notice something sweet about the day.
And worst case, I’ll get the Reese’s all to myself.
October 17, 2016
Conference Corner
I just returned from a fabulous romance writers conference this weekend. Sponsored by my local RWA chapter, the Put Your Heart in a Book Conference featured workshops, networking, pitching opportunities and chocolate—what’s not to love?
For me, it was a needed jolt of energy and inspiration. I’ve been down on everything writing-related recently, and hadn’t even planned to attend. But my online writer friends were talking about it, my critique group was involved in planning for it, and a writer I admire, Virginia Kantra, mentioned coffee. So I registered.
In a “If You Give A Mouse A Cookie” moment, I decided if I was going to the conference, I might as well pitch. So I chose three editors/agents I thought might be interested in my work and signed up to pitch them. And then I panicked. Luckily for me, one of my critique partners, Miriam, was in charge of the appointments. She talked me off the ledge, adjusted my appointments and even invited me to sit at the editor/agent table for lunch – a surefire way to guarantee I don’t actually eat anything.
For weeks I prepped and worried and planned and worried and worried some more.
But I’m so glad I went!
I met up with lots of writer friends, pulling me out of my introverted writer shell. Thank you, Laurie!
I attended two fabulous workshops—one by Tessa Dare on “Firsts”—first kisses, first meetings, etc.—and how to use them to improve the emotional content of your writing; and one by Robin Covington on adding intimacy to your sex scenes (insert tab A into slot B is really only good for Ikea directions). They both inspired me and I’m busy incorporating what I learned into my current manuscripts.
My pitching went well—and the editors and agents were nice people too!—and I’m planning to submit their requested materials within the next two weeks. Hopefully I’ll have good news soon.
As I’ve often said, one of the best things about these conferences is the support we all give each other. Romance writers are some of the nicest in the publishing world. We constantly look for ways to prop each other up, no matter our success level. With that in mind, if any of you are looking for some new-to-you authors, may I suggest any of these wonderful ladies who have been so supportive of me?
Virginia KantraMiriam AllensonLaurie BensonTessa Dare
Robin Covington
For me, it was a needed jolt of energy and inspiration. I’ve been down on everything writing-related recently, and hadn’t even planned to attend. But my online writer friends were talking about it, my critique group was involved in planning for it, and a writer I admire, Virginia Kantra, mentioned coffee. So I registered.
In a “If You Give A Mouse A Cookie” moment, I decided if I was going to the conference, I might as well pitch. So I chose three editors/agents I thought might be interested in my work and signed up to pitch them. And then I panicked. Luckily for me, one of my critique partners, Miriam, was in charge of the appointments. She talked me off the ledge, adjusted my appointments and even invited me to sit at the editor/agent table for lunch – a surefire way to guarantee I don’t actually eat anything.
For weeks I prepped and worried and planned and worried and worried some more.
But I’m so glad I went!
I met up with lots of writer friends, pulling me out of my introverted writer shell. Thank you, Laurie!
I attended two fabulous workshops—one by Tessa Dare on “Firsts”—first kisses, first meetings, etc.—and how to use them to improve the emotional content of your writing; and one by Robin Covington on adding intimacy to your sex scenes (insert tab A into slot B is really only good for Ikea directions). They both inspired me and I’m busy incorporating what I learned into my current manuscripts.
My pitching went well—and the editors and agents were nice people too!—and I’m planning to submit their requested materials within the next two weeks. Hopefully I’ll have good news soon.
As I’ve often said, one of the best things about these conferences is the support we all give each other. Romance writers are some of the nicest in the publishing world. We constantly look for ways to prop each other up, no matter our success level. With that in mind, if any of you are looking for some new-to-you authors, may I suggest any of these wonderful ladies who have been so supportive of me?
Virginia KantraMiriam AllensonLaurie BensonTessa Dare
Robin Covington
