S. Smith's Blog, page 31
January 16, 2013
That Thing You Do
Many years ago, not long out of college and still a bit wet behind the ears, I headed off to China. Like any young person worth her salt, I was off to the ends of the earth for better or for worse. The year was 1985, and it was the beginning of my teaching career. I’ve been teaching more or less, full-time and part-time, ever since. That is, until October 2011.
And now I have this question: When do I have to stop calling myself a teacher? Because it feels to me like being a teacher is more than the title of an occupation. If you are a retired doctor, are you no longer a doctor? No, of course not. So how do I introduce myself and what do I put in my bio? I’m not even a retired teacher, because that implies I’m collecting some sort of retirement income, or that I’ve reached a certain age; I am not and have not. If I join some online website and have the option of entering myself as a teacher, should I? What happens when I’m then asked to “set up my classroom,” or list my school address?
I feel like I’m still a teacher. I could go back. My license is current. In fact, I still teach one very small volunteer ESL class in the community. One night a week. Does that count?
If I’m not being paid, if nobody is calling me Mrs. Smith, if I’m without an actual classroom of my own, am I no longer a teacher?
For now, I will continue to identify myself as a teacher. I also identify myself as an author. This thing of identity can be confusing. If it’s the thing we do “for a living,” then perhaps “farm hand,” would just as accurately describe me.
I like being a teacher. I like being an author. And I like picking and selling apples. Maybe from now on we can just ask people “What do you like doing?” instead of “What do you do for a living?”
But what will we write on that little line at the bottom of our tax returns?
January 14, 2013
The Writer’s Dilemma
It’s the age old question for writers who wake up in the middle of the night and lie there writing poems, posts, and clever book blurbs in their heads — get up and write it down, or try and go back to sleep and remember it in the morning.
You know the drill, you write and write in this wonderfully imaginative mind of yours, knowing you should turn on the light and jot down the amazing ideas, but fearing you’ll disturb your husband, not that he isn’t already disturbed (okay, so that didn’t come out sounding the way it should), or that doing so will cause you to be unable to get back to sleep.
Sometimes you do write it down and then later, finding the scraps of paper, you’re amazed at what this half asleep brain comes up with and grateful that you took the chance.
And then other times, like last night, you think about how cold it is, even by the edge of the covers. It’s been 27 degrees F outside all day, and surely in this woodstove-heated-house, it’s too cold to venture even one arm out to the nightstand. And you know, of course, that the pen will be missing, that you’ll never get back to sleep. So you lie there telling yourself you will remember THE GREAT IDEA, how could you, after all, forget something so earth-shatteringly good? And so you recite it over and over to make sure you will remember, which serves only to keep you awake longer, the very thing you were trying to avoid. And you go on to contemplate other great questions, such as why you can’t find stationary in stores anymore, or whether or not learning to tweet is a good idea or is better off left alone (as your seventeen-year-old son advised: “Mom, Twitter is not for you.”)
And then morning comes, and you were just starting to get back to sleep, but oh, you must get out of bed, icicles or not, and on the radio Phillip Phillips is singing “Home,” and about how it will all be clear, and you know you made a mistake. Your mind is as clear as the freezing fog outside. What was the great post? Was the poem really about that you might be the next to die? Who would want to read THAT? You try to remember the earth-shattering book blurb and scrawl it down before it too evaporates like the steam from the teapot. And darn it, you’re tired. You’re spent. And for what?
Your spouse gets out of bed three hours after you and wonders why you are looking at him so maliciously, what did he do now?
And so you go up to your room, make sure there is a pen and pad by your bed, and pray for warmer days.
January 10, 2013
The Zombie Apocalypse and Other Things You Should Be Worried About
Visiting Seed Savers Heritage Farm in Decorah, Iowa (Photo credit: Chiot’s Run)
There’s this thing I’ve been doing a lot lately (no doubt to the annoyance of my family) where in reference to, say, junk in the basement or garage–old bikes, backpacks, canned food (I know, gross, right?)–instead of getting rid of it I say, “Oh well, it’ll come in handy in case of a zombie apocalypse.” I’ll be honest here, I don’t really know what a zombie apocalypse is. But I’m pretty sure there’s not really gonna be one.
I was rereading some reviews of Seed Savers and I saw a sentiment (don’t get me wrong, it was a great review) that expressed the unlikelihood of a scenario such as the Seed Savers premise (personal gardening has become illegal) in light of today’s eco-friendly obsession. Yeah, true, true. Organic stores and organic sections in our big chain stores seem to be at an all-time high. The Obamas have planted a garden at the White House, chickens reign supreme in many back and front yards in big cities across the nation, and so on.
And yet, then there are also stories all over such as this one about a couple under threat of being sued for their vegetable garden. (And while, if you read the comments following the story, it seems these people are now in the clear, don’t doubt that this isn’t happening in many other places.) Or stories about Moe Parr, Percy Schmeiser and others, who have been under fire by MONSANTO on account of seeds. Or a local news story about the government accusing farmers of berry-picking crimes and extorting large amounts of money from them.
There’s the effect GMO control has on other countries, such as the rise in suicides among Indian farmers. There’s the denial by the United States government that genetically modified foods might pose a health risk and deciding that letting consumers know when they’re ingesting such organisms isn’t necessary. (A decision made over twenty years ago; time to reconsider, anyone?) There’s the irksome reality that Agribusiness and FDA officials are not only in bed together, sometimes they are the same person.
And whatever happened with the people rising up to right this wrong through proposition 37 (the initiative to require GMO labeling) in California? I’ll tell you what happened. Though supported by more than 60% of Californians in early polls, after large GMO supporting/using companies spent 46 million dollars in advertising, the people folded. Then again, there are the allegations about “irregularities” in the vote totals…
And what about the Jamie Oliver TED talk “Teach Every Child About Food,” where some elementary students fail to identify tomatoes, potatoes, and cauliflower? Still think the storyline in Seed Savers is unlikely? Actually, I hope it is. But I don’t know…
Instead of gearing up for the zombie apocalypse, maybe we should all try planting a seed come spring. Maybe even out in the front yard if you have one. Especially if it’s against the law.
January 5, 2013
Inspiring Young Writers
As an author, I’ve met a lot of kids who don’t just enjoy reading my books but also tell me they are writing their own books. As a teacher, writer, and parent, this is exciting. What can we do to foster this interest of writing in our children?
The first and most obvious is to show our excitement. Congratulate them on the fact that they are writing or have written a book.
Here's a guest blog I did for kindleforkids.
December 26, 2012
Inadequacy and Gratefulness As We Head Into the New Year
Come Monday (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Sometimes reading other writers’ blogs makes me feel inadequate. I see how much they get done; that they follow 50+ blogs, actively leaving messages, befriending folks, etc., while at the same time posting several times a week themselves, all the while working on a novel (or three), and perhaps working full-time and/or raising a family. It makes me feel like I’m not trying hard enough, am undisciplined, lazy…you see where I’m going. And then I vow to myself that I’m going to make a change. Come Monday, or in the morning, or the day after Christmas, or on New Year’s Day. But then morning somehow turns to noon, and Monday comes and we’re out of milk, gifts need returned the day after Christmas, and I prove to myself, once again, that it’s true: I’m undisciplined, lazy, and not trying hard enough.
It’s those times, and the times when a well-meaning friend asks, “So how’s it going with the books?” Meaning, “How are sales, are you making any money?” that I remind myself how very much I really have gotten done this year. It may not be as much as others out there in the blogosphere, but I think it’s a lot. So pardon me if what follows sounds a little self-congratulatory, but sometimes one needs to take stock, reflect on what they have achieved, before berating themselves and running off half-cocked into the new year with an armload of resolutions and goals without having been thoroughly and rightfully grateful for the opportunities and accomplishments of the old year.
And so you are my witnesses, before I write a long list of shoulds and wills and wishes and hopes, as to the distance I’ve traveled already on this new road. No, a Christmas miracle did not happen and my book did not become a bestseller, rolling in mounds of dough. But,
In 2012,
I started this blog and set up this website.
I published Seed Savers:Treasure in paperback and e-book.
I finished editing and published Seed Savers: Lily in paperback and e-book.
I got positive reviews on both books from people I didn’t even know.
I made new friends out in the bloggy world who I have never met in person.
I won a contest.
I did a guest post.
I did an interview.
I have a school visit in the works.
I know it doesn’t sound like a lot compared to things I’ve read about online, but folks, for me, this has been quite an accomplishment. Maybe I’ve said it before, but I literally used to walk into Best Buy and introduce myself to the first salesperson who asked if they could help, with, “Yes, I’m from the 1980s.” I left America in 1985 to live in China for three years and when I came back, the record sections in all the stores had disappeared. In the 90s I was busy raising a couple of children. By the time I decided to think about catching up with technology I almost felt like it was too late.
So, yes. The fact that a year ago I didn’t have a blog, a website, two published books, and new friends/fans, IS HUGE to me. (I still don’t have a cell phone, but we won’t go there.) And so before I run headlong into the new year with A PLAN, I humbly and gratefully acknowledge the little dent I’ve made in the universe this year.
I am grateful.
Welcome, 2013, treat us kindly.
December 19, 2012
Guest Post: Behind the Curtain
Winner of the Excerpt Contest, Sandy Smith, is here to share a brilliant guest post. Read on, and don’t forget to grab a copy of her book Seed Savers: Treasure, free only today on Amazon! ______________________________________________________________
What really goes on in the mind of an author telling a story? Despite what you’ve heard, I don’t believe there is any one way to write a novel.
Guest post I did today on Story Addict...
December 15, 2012
A Long Row to Hoe
On Tuesday, I graduated. Again. It was a smaller affair this time, sans caps and gowns. The coveted prize was to trade in the paper name tag we clung to all year for the official orange Oregon state-shaped Marion County Master Gardener badge. And I made it! Yes, it was a long row to hoe–quite literally–and we had one of the largest graduating classes ever (35). In fact, I had initially been turned away and put on the list for 2013 since there was no more room in the room.
Becoming a certified Master Gardener takes a lot of dedication and a lot of hard work. We started in January, attending class every Monday from 9 a.m. to 4 p.m., and continued through March. We received a humongous binder of information (to rival Mitt Romney’s binders of women I’m sure), covering topics such as soils and fertilizers, basic entomology, weed management, woody landscape plants, and so on. After that, we had to fulfill 60+ volunteer hours: some hours in the garden, other hours in various roles in the community–from working at the local Food Share, to educating children in schools, or helping with community gardens–to name a few. The bulk of hours was spent at the extension office “help desk,” fielding phone calls from the community, or walk-ins with their gigantic spiders in jars or SWD ravaged blueberries. Sometimes it was a stretch, but I almost always learned something, which I think, was the point. It also felt good to be giving back to the community.
I know you are all dying to know: Now that I have finished the coursework and attained my badge, do I feel like a “master” gardener? Sorry to say, quite the opposite. As I heard a classmate remark at the graduation, “Now we know how much it is that we don’t know.” But as I learned working the help desk, I am certainly better at knowing where to find the answers.
It was a worthy accomplishment, and I’m glad I did it. Oh, and I won one of the door prizes: a three foot tall eucalyptus subcrenulata. (Which I don’t have room for, but should make a lovely Christmas gift.) 
December 12, 2012
Excerpt Contest Winner Announced!
Recall this little shindig we had last week to celebrate 200 blog followers here at Story Addict, where you all voted for your favorite excerpt? I’ve got great news. First, the contest ends right now, so the wait is over! Second, I’ve made this gorgeous little award banner for the winner. Isn’t it pretty?? Yes, my skills are beyond even me, I know.
I won, I won! Thanks everyone who voted for me, and thanks to Story Addict for the opportunity.
December 10, 2012
We Interrupt This Blog
English: Winter scene taken at in Bulgaria. Français : Scènes d’hiver. Col de Shipka, Bulgarie. Български: Зимен пейзаж от проход Шипка, България (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
There are so many things to blog about this fine December morning. There is the woe is me, my coffee maker stopped working unexpectedly tirade. There’s the annual trek to find the perfect tree: it must be tall enough, smell wonderful, have just the perfect spacing between limbs, and of course not have a crooked top (we found it!!!!). The post, or even poem about the wonderful winter birds feeding and flitting outside the kitchen window. There’s the one about how my daughter will soon be coming home from college and how I’d better get all my stuff moved out of her room pronto. There’s “Happy Birthday, little sister!!” Then there are the ones that could be used any time, fine December morning or not. Those little pieces of memories, like the errant not-quite-burned fleck of paper rising out of the burn pile, drifting up and away, those little memories from my distant past that have surfaced for one reason or another this week, reminding me of a life I once lived far, far from here in time and space.
But, unfortunately, all of those ideas will have to wait. Because WE INTERRUPT THIS BLOG to ask,
HAVE YOU FOUND A GIFT FOR EVERYONE ON YOUR LIST? If not, how about a book? I happen to know of a wonderful little book, good for children and adults alike. It’s a small book, so not too heavy to cart around, or hold up in bed. It’s a book with a little adventure and likable characters.
I refer to it as “Middle Grade,” although there are middle-aged women who tell me it is not just for kids, that they think plenty of adults would enjoy it. Children in the elementary grades also are eating up the book series, always asking for more.
Some people call the book dystopian, but my dictionary says that dystopian is an imagined place or state in which everything is unpleasant or bad, and the future place is my book is similar to now, with only a few things different, and it’s arguable as to whether it’s unpleasant or bad.
Well, anyway, if you are still looking for a little something for someone in your life this holiday season, consider Seed Savers: Treasure and Seed Savers: Lily. They are only $9.99 and available online or through your local bookstore. If you move fast, you can even request a signed copy from me. For more description and reviews, go here. To contact me about a book or questions, email authorssmith@gmail.com.
Oh, and for the month of December, the Kindle versions are on sale for $2.99. Over at Goodreads, Lily is currently on a Giveaway. There is a little excerpt of Lily here.
Well now, that was quite the interruption. Next time, we will get back to your regularly scheduled programming…
Thanks for your patience.
December 5, 2012
My Own Portal to the Twilight Zone
1959 Series Logo (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Along a busy highway in the part of Oregon where green things grow, sits an unsuspecting apple stand. And on a blustery day one recent afternoon, I ran into a little piece of the 1980s, or maybe I should say it ran into me.
My husband and I were taking some of my books out to my sister’s house and stopped in at the apple stand, which is my brother’s, to leave a book with him. He had just driven up, so I stepped out to greet him. In my periphery vision I noticed a woman, a customer, but thought nothing of it. Momentarily, however, the woman approached me, calling my name.
I looked at her. She read my face, a question mark, and quickly offered her name; this I recalled. A name from my past . . . how long was it? Before I’d gone to China, must be early eighties . . . how long ago was that, twenty, thirty years?
“You recognized me?” I asked, all but admitting I would never have known her.
“Of course,” she said, “ you look exactly the same.”
We stood there in the wind, trying to catch up on the last 27 years of our lives in ten minutes. I was amazed at how much she knew about me, how much she remembered. I said things that made her smile and laugh as we grew colder (Why didn’t we just go into the apple stand rather than stay there in the driveway, outside my car door?), and the memories slowly seeped into my conscieceness about how I had always made her laugh; how much I enjoyed friends who found me humorous, how laughter makes us feel better. I gave her my card, told her I was an author now, found out she had been a school counselor in Hawaii, but had recently had health issues. She wasn’t on Facebook, but promised to email. As we drove on down the road, I shared with my husband more of the memories now being unleashed.
Change scenes. Eight weeks prior, early October, same apple stand. I was working the cash register so that my sister-in-law could do some things in town. Just as we were opening the stand for business, a van drove up.
“Looks like that might by Trudy,” my brother said.
Trudy had been my locker partner throughout high school. She had been the catcher to my pitcher through the middle school years. We had been classmates from first grade through eighth grade in a country school with roughly the same thirteen kids for those eight long years. I had seen her once since high school graduation, about twenty years ago.
A little graying lady stepped out of the van. That’s not Trudy, I thought. But as she walked closer, I saw that it might, in fact, be her. Before I had made up my mind, she saw me, and her mouth dropped open in wonder and delight. My brother continued opening the stand as Trudy and I stood there, catching up on how many children we’d had, how old they all were, etc. Suddenly, I remembered that her birthday was in early October, and it was early October.
“Have you had your birthday yet?” I asked.
And here is where the middle-aged, hair-in-a-bun, quiet-spoken mother of five transformed into the boisterous, brown-haired, Bill Walton fan, of my youth. She pointed at me, threw back her head in a giant laugh and said, “You’re fifty!” (Her fiftieth birthday would be in two days).
And there it was: that Twilightish passage of time in a split second. The feeling that one day you are sixteen and in high school, and then there you are, standing by the side of the road, white hair crowding out the black, fifty years old.
My brother’s apple stand will close for the winter in three days. I know I need some apples for applesauce. But am I ready for another visit from the past?
I’ll take my chances. Maybe there’ll be some fog…a strange man standing just off to the left…
