Michelle E. Reed's Blog, page 2

National Adoption Month

November is National Adoption Month, a topic close to my heart. Two years ago, I wrote a blog entry about a very important aspect of our adoption experience, and it remains one of the my most viewed posts. I am re-posting it today in the spirit of the month. If you are planning to expand your family, please consider adoption.

Originally posted November 5, 2011

On Joy and Sadness

I’ve gotten some really great feedback on my post about adoption, so in the spirit of National Adoption Month, I will continue with another entry about our experience. Translation—getting serious again. I have changed the names of those involved out of respect for their privacy.

We were uniquely blessed when our adoption came about. We were contacted by an old family friend who had just learned their teenage daughter was pregnant, after hearing just days before through another mutual friend that my husband and I were about to re-start (that’s a story for another time) the adoption process. We were lucky to start off not as strangers, but as old friends separated by time.

Having not seen them for years, we got in touch that night on the phone, and in my elated state of disbelief at our great fortune, I was brought back to earth by my first glimpse of the reality of adoption, one that you don’t hear much about. One that, in my opinion, is critically important we as adoptive families keep in mind: our joy comes at the expense of others. Where we gain, they lose in equal measure.

Speaking with Karen that night, I heard the pain of a worried mother, listened to the strained tone of her voice, aware of the struggle they were already facing. They had just been to the women’s clinic, and had learned that Jenny was five months pregnant. Imagine, if you can, the weight of that kind of information. Your daughter, not yet old enough to drive a car, was going to give birth in mere months. Their lives were in turmoil, turned upside down by the news. As I spoke to her, I tried to rein in my excitement and reassure her that we were already absolutely committed to this baby, and would do everything in our power to help ease their minds. I volunteered to fly down to meet Jenny, and told her I would call our adoption agency first thing in the morning to get the ball rolling and put our adoption study on a “rush.”

As the months rolled by, my first visit turned into a birth plan. I was invited by the family to come down before the birth and stay with them until the baby was born, and would even get to be in the delivery room. I knew this was a risk, but it was just as much a risk for them. What if I fall in love, and they change their minds? How will I do this, with my husband at home in Wisconsin, 600 miles away? Could my heart take it if they wound up changing their minds? Could their hearts take it if they didn’t? What would this mean for all of us?

Two weeks before Jenny’s due date, I got on a plane, my bags filled with baby clothes, the tags still on. I couldn’t bring myself to remove them, despite Jenny’s reassurances that she would not be changing her mind. Everyone was on board, birth father included, but I was still afraid to let myself truly believe this would be a reality. As we waited for the birth, I got to know both families so well, and I could really appreciate how much love and heartache is involved in their decision. Is there a love stronger than that? Choosing to give someone else the gift of a family? Loving a child so much that you choose a life you can’t give them?

I spent a full month with Jenny’s family, living in their home, sharing in their meals, welcomed into their family. My heart was both swelling with excitement and breaking for these birth families as the days passed. The more I got to know them, the more I could see the love and selflessness it takes to do what they’ve done. It was a risk for all of us. How would this work once the baby was born? How would they be able to let us go? How would we be able to leave them?

My husband was a few hours away when our son was born, having left our house when Jenny went into labor. We would drive home together; the three of us a brand new family, once the ICPC office and both states cleared us to leave. He couldn’t get to us fast enough, eager to meet the son we hoped would be ours. Jenny’s commitment to the adoption was now being fought by the hormones in her body, the maternal instinct flowing through her veins. She still wanted the adoption to go through, and with the strength of her mother at her side, we were pretty sure this was going to actually happen.

It’s hard to describe the simultaneous joy and sadness this time brought to us. Holding our son in our arms the first time was a happiness like no other, but it was a feeling of elation tempered by the grieving process Jenny and her family were experiencing. The hospital let me room-in with our newborn boy, for which I was extraordinarily grateful, but just a few doors down his birth mother was grieving for the son she would never get to raise. She ached for him. She wept for him. Those two nights in the hospital were a delicate and sad dance, his bassinette rolling back and forth between rooms, all of us doing our best to share this beautiful boy we’d all fallen in love with, balancing our need to bond with their need to spend as much time as they could with him, time that was fleeting, slipping through their fingers like sand.

We offered to leave the room when she signed the papers that morning, her family, the social worker and an attorney all crammed into too small a room. Jenny asked us to stay, so we did, holding our breath as she signed the papers, tears slipping down our cheeks each time the attorney asked her to be sure she understood her signature was irrevocable. We hugged her and promised to be the parents this sweet little boy deserved, we told her we loved her, that we could never really put in words our gratitude, and that we would always make sure he knows how much she loves him. Our words couldn’t possibly have been enough.

A week later the time had finally come. We were heading home, eager to start our lives together. I will never in my life forget that morning. The car was loaded up with a month of my things, and far more baby gear than anyone would ever need—a true sign of first time parents. We came back in the house and watched as Jenny said goodbye, a tiny miracle lying against her chest, silent tears rolling down her cheeks as she cradled him and whispered in his ear.

Thank you. All of you. For your love, your selflessness, the wisdom beyond your years and your amazing sacrifice. We are more grateful than we can ever say, and we think of you with love every day. I wish I could find the right words to tell you how much you mean to us.

An Interview!

Another weekend breezed by far too fast, but my good Monday morning news is that in one of today’s stops on the Very Superstitious Blog Tour, I’m being interviewed over on Library of a Book Witch. It was lots of fun, and I’m still trying to get used to the idea that someone wants to interview me, and that other people might want to read it! You can check out the review and my interview here. Be sure to enter to win the Month9Books giveaway!

A big thanks to Jen for hosting me on her fantastic blog!

Guest Blogging

Happy Sunday!

On this chilly fall morning, I am hunkered under a blanket trying to stay warm, but my typing fingers have found the power to emerge long enough to type these few words, because I have to share my excitement! I have a guest post over on A Dream Within A Dream blog, which is today’s stop on the Very Superstitious blog tour. A big thank you to Stephanie for hosting me! Head on over and check out my thoughts on inspiration. You can find it here.

Very Superstitious is a charity anthology from Month9Books to benefit SPCA International, and I am proud to be included among such talented authors to benefit a great cause! You can get your copy at Amazon or Kobo.

Late to the Game

Hello, evening! Where did the day go? It’s been a busy day off for me, full of running errands and volunteering at my son’s elementary school (vision screenings of third graders can fill a day like nobody’s business!). So I am a bit late to blogging, today.

The Very Superstitious blog tour continues, with a great review over on the Writer’s Alley blog. Check it out here!

And if you haven’t picked up a copy, you can grab one right here. Proceeds benefit SPCA International!

Sorry to be so brief, but it is rather frigid here in Wisconsin and I must return to my pseudo-hibernation beneath a pile of blankets.

And I Tweet!

It’s day two of being a published author, and I have to tell you, it’s pretty cool! It’s still hard to believe this has really happened, but I’m loving it! The blog tour continues here, here, and here. Check it out!

Join me tonight for a Twitter chat with my fellow Very Superstitious anthology authors, hosted by YA Lit Chat. Just follow along with #yalitchat, and you can ask questions, learn more about the anthology authors and our stories, and win some cool stuff! The chat starts at 9:00 PM EST.

And send me good vibes for swift fingers!

Anthology Launch

The day has arrived! I am now, officially, a published author!

My publisher, Month9Books, has released this year’s charity anthology, Very Superstitious: Myths, Legends and Tales of Superstition, which benefits SPCA International. My short story, Midhalla, is a creepy twist on the superstition surrounding opening umbrellas indoors.

It is a pleasure to be a part of an anthology that benefits a good cause, and to be included among the works of such fantastic authors!

And I’m published! Hooray!

So grab your copy today, and check out today’s stop on the blog tour, which can be found here.

T-Minus One!

One week from today, I will be a published author! My short story, Midhalla, is part of this year’s Month9Books annual charity anthology, which releases October 15th. Proceeds from this year’s anthology, Very Superstitious: Myths, Legends and Tales of Superstition, will benefit SPCA International. 

 

Head on over to Chapter by Chapter to check out the blog tour schedule! You can find it here.

One more week! And two more months until my debut novel, Life, A.D. hits the shelves!

 

 

Teaching and Learning

I’ve discovered a great new way to learn about writing and the craft of storytelling: teach it to fourth graders.

I recently volunteered to lead an afterschool club at my son’s school, and when they learned I am a soon-to-be-published author, they asked me to run a “storytelling” club.

Fun!

I jumped in with both feet, enthusiastic to share my love of writing with eager kids.

And then I realized I’d have to be organized, and detailed, submit a lesson plan each week, and find a way to keep a group of fourth graders occupied and engaged for an hour and a half, after a long day of school.

Gulp.

I started planning. Where to begin? What goes into storytelling? What are the fundamentals? I was all set to go with analyzing Harry Potter using Freytag’s five-part narrative structure. My husband (a few credits shy of his Master’s in education) felt I might have set my expectations a teensy bit too high.

So Aristotle’s beginning, middle, and end it would be. I was banking on all the kids being familiar with Harry Potter. I came up with games we could play, trying to discover ways to make my club as fun and relatable as possible. I had plenty of material to cover for my first session, I figured, so in I happily went in yesterday afternoon, ready to run my club like a pro!

Hitch in the road number one hit me before we even got started. All of the children gathered in the cafeteria for snack and recess before we were to go off to our clubs, and when my son (age five) realized he was not in my club…well, it got a bit ugly. Tears, wailing, begging to go home.

“But you’re in the Sports All-Stars Club!” I told him with great enthusiasm. “You get to play soccer!”

“Why don’t you want me in your club?” he wailed.

“We talked about this last night, and this morning, too,” I tried to explain. “My club is for older kids.”

“Don’t you want to be with me?” he sobbed.

Oh, boy.

Fortunately, his Kindergarten teacher is an absolute gem, and stayed with him until he calmed down, after I promised he only had to try his club just this once, and if he didn’t like it, he wouldn’t have to go again. “Because we made a commitment,” I told him as I left to sit across the cafeteria with my club.

Fast forward to club time. We get in our classroom, my eager students ready to go. And by eager, I mean…mostly. One boy was clearly there as a time-filler. “Do we have to do all this stuff?” he moaned as I asked them to circle up the chairs so we could have a group discussion. “This is dumb.”

I smiled and promised he’d have fun if he just gave it a try, and began to launch into my prepared speech about the fundamentals of storytelling. Not a complete sentence had passed my lips when four hands shot into the air.

“Are we going to be published?” asked one boy, beaming with excitement, practically bouncing out of his seat.

“Um, well, getting published is a long, complex process.” I told him. “We could self-publish our short stories in an anthology, if you’d like,” I offered.

Frowns.

“You mean we’re not going to get a publisher to put our stories in the bookstores?” he said.

“Well…”

“You got a publisher, right?” asked the girl sitting next to him.

“I did. But it took a very long time.”

“How long?” she asked.

I thought for a moment. “I started writing my book in 2008, and worked on it off and on for a few years before really committing to writing it. I got my publishing offer last year. So that was four years.”

“That’s a long time,” chimed in another girl.

“It is,” I said with a nod. “Since you guys were in Kindergarten, right?”

This back and forth went on for a good half-hour before I got us back on track. We talked about Harry Potter; we discussed protagonists (main characters!), we talked about antagonists (Voldemort!) And they loved it. Hooray! I gave them Paul Bunyan stories I had printed out and cut up, and had them try and put the stories back together in the right order.

We played seven-word sentence in which we picked seven random letters and formed sentences. My favorite? GWRHAFC: George Washington rides horses and fights crocodiles.

And guess what?  Mister “this is dumb” had the most fun of all.

With the time we had left after games, I had the kids start to work on their short stories. I asked them to come up with their protagonist. Who is he or she? What do they like to do? Where do they live? What are their favorite foods? Who are their friends?

One of the girls asked me the name of my book, and the name of the anthology my short story is in. She ran off to a corner and began to work. When our time was up, she handed me this:

And my heart completely melted.

Yesterday I learned a lot, the most important point being this: if you can’t explain a subject to fourth graders, you probably don’t really understand it yourself. And if you talk to kids in a fun, relatable way, they will listen. What a great exercise in reflection and comprehension this was for me. I can safely say I got as much, probably more, out of our first club day as the kids did. I can’t wait for our next meeting.

You want to get better as a writer? Find an opportunity like this. You’ll learn so much.

And you might even get yourself a fan.

Hop on the Blog Train!

So here’s the latest thing in my orbit: blog tours.

Very Superstitious: Myths, Legends and Tales of Superstition, my publisher’s annual charity anthology, is about to be released. This means the contributing authors (including me!) are gearing up for the promotional blog tour.

This is all brand new territory to me. And it’s so cool! But it’s kind of weird, too. I mean, the guest blogging part, I get. It’s not a huge leap to go from the sporadic blogging of which I partake to a guest post on an awesome blog (or two).

However, a few nights ago I received my first interview questions. And that’s the weird part; the part I’m still trying to wrap my brain around. Someone wants to interview me, and other people will (presumably) want to read it.

So now I have to try and be interesting. I will do my best.

I have to tell you, it’s pretty cool being the wide-eyed optimist, seeing the publishing world for the first time. Granted, being the successful, veteran author sounds extremely appealing, but I am content to enjoy the ride that is new-authordom, and take in all the sights.

Stay tuned, and be sure to add Very Superstitious to your “want to read” shelf on Goodreads! This year, the anthology benefits SPCA International.

http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18157997-very-superstitious

The Pressure’s On

The road to publication is long, to be sure. From inspiration to printed page, the journey can span years. For me, the goal is growing nearer, no longer a dot on the horizon. What began as a glimmer of an idea that came to me in 2006 is now an actual book, just a few short months from hitting the shelves.

It seems I learn something new about publishing on a near-daily basis.

What I’ve just learned is that the going is slow until it isn’t.

Huh?

What I mean is, the time seems to crawl along, until one day when it hits you: I will be published, soon. Everything seems to speed up, and your brain (if you’re anything like me) goes into super freak-out mode.

In less than one month, the short story I wrote for my publisher’s annual charity anthology will be out, and come December 10th, my debut novel, Life, A.D. will hit the shelves!

This. Is. Awesome.

And a bit scary.

Review copies of Very Superstitious are going out, bringing me to freak-out point number one: People I don’t know are/will very soon be reading my short story.

I know.

You’re thinking, but isn’t that the POINT of publishing?

Yes, it is.

But now that it’s actually happening, it’s a bit intimidating.

I’ve always written for more than just myself. From the start, I’ve written with an audience in mind, picturing the reader following along, and, hopefully, getting swept up in the worlds I’ve created.

And now I will actually have an audience. Large or small, a multitude or a few, people will be reading what I’ve written.

And all I can do is wait and hope. Hope that the work I’ve put in will pay off, and that the words I’ve written are satisfying and engaging. Hope that I did enough, that I won’t let my readers down, that they will fall in love with my characters like I have. Hope that my publisher was right to put their faith in me.

No pressure like the kind that’s self-inflicted, right?

But I know how lucky I am. I wouldn’t change it for the world.