A Little of This, A Little of That

The better part of the last three years have been devoted to REACH: writing and rewriting, learning and networking, querying and submitting, contemplating and, of course, rewriting.
I needed to unplug from social media for a while (for the most part), regroup, and work on my overwhelming To Do List.

1. Clean my house. (I think that dust bunny had teeth.)

2. Clean OUT my house. (Before a producer from the TV show Hoarders shows up at my door.)

3. Paint just about every surface. (I hate cleaning the brushes.)

4. Install new flooring. (Then obsess. NO ANIMAL WILL RUIN IT THIS TIME!)

5. Renovate 2 1/2 bathrooms. (Just. Yuck.)

6. Sell the house. (Which hasn't happened yet.)

7. Find jobs for my husband and I in Florida. (Can't take another NY winter.)

Then there were things not on the list, some crazy, some for pleasure, and the "Oh man, why now?" projects.

1. Install new garage doors. (That was unexpected. While sitting in the family room watching TV one evening we heard a loud bang. The huge spring on our 30 year old garage door split in half, which in turned snapped the heavy wire that makes the door go up and down.)

2. Convince husband to let me spend over $200.00 on surgery for our turtle. He had a double ear infection.

3. Adopt more rats.

4. Come across a good deal on like 27,000 feet of nylon webbing, and think, "I could make dog collars." (WHAT?! Sometimes I really wonder about my sanity. And BTW... this is what 27,000 feet looks like.)

5. Sew lots of dog collars. Which can be found on my new site Greyt Serendipity

6. Read. Read. Read.

7. Experience Reike.

8. Discover the therapeutic powers of writing ...yet again. (I wrote about a traumatic event that happened when I was eleven. I will eventually share it with you.)

So, there it is: the many distractions of life. Thanks for hanging in there.

Therapy & Psychics

As a teen, writing helped me deal with my emotions. When my kids were little, I had fun writing and illustrating a couple of children’s books. I thought about trying to get them published, but I mostly wrote for myself. Several years passed, I didn’t have a lot of time for writing. Until three years ago...

I was working as a Dental Assistant. I enjoyed my job, and the people I worked with. One day I woke up and my pinky hurt. Yeah, I said pinky. Hold on. There’s more to the story. I couldn’t bend my finger; it felt like I had jammed it, although I couldn’t recall anything happening.

Then the next morning I woke up and my whole hand hurt, and I couldn’t hold or grip anything – not good when I’m handling a sharp object over the patient’s face. Don’t worry, I didn’t hurt anyone. In the days to follow, the pain spread to different parts of my body and I began to worry. I saw my doctor, and the worry changed to frustrated concern as we began the testing process.

For a while it was believed to be Lupus, but upon further testing the doctors determined it to be Fibromyalgia; which I mention, because apparently that’s common. Fibromyalgia is not the end of the world, but it does take some getting used to: the pain, depression, and exhaustion. The fact that I couldn’t preform my job added to my problems. I needed time, so I took a leave of absence.

Suddenly I felt OLD (I should mention I had just turned forty). I felt like I hadn’t done anything with my life, and now it was over. So I used my time off to write and reflect. Who knew that one would turn out to be the answer to the other? But it was. I wanted to write, like a whole novel. And I wanted it to be young adult, which I’d never done. Sadly, my family thought I was just going through a phase. So at first I didn’t feel whole lot of support or understanding.

I struggled a little at first. Then I fell in love with the process it, and my story. I found writing to be therapeutic. Getting lost in words. Creating worlds. I wasn’t in pain when I was writing. I also found that I was good at it. Like I said, that was three years ago; I guess I’m not going back to work. But on the upside, I completed my first novel and got the family support that I needed.

Now, as many of you know, I am working towards publication. And because of what a psychic said, I am confident … well, guardedly confident, that I will be published one day. Don’t laugh. Those guys are amazing. Well, I imagine that they are amazing. I didn’t personally see the psychic, my sister did. Never mind, you can laugh.

Standing out in the crowd

When I was a kid I was immensely shy and reserved. I did what I could to not bring attention to myself -- short of dressing head to toe in gray, to blend into the cinder block walls at school.
Now, it seems like I am constantly doing something ridiculous to draw attention to myself.

One of the more memorable moments that comes to mind happened a couple of years ago. I promised my youngest that I would go to her Halloween parade/party at school. But before I left the house that afternoon, I decided to surprise her and dress up, and I came up with an insane idea of what to wear. I struggled to get the elaborate outfit on, and then drove to the school. I shuffled through the maze of halls to get to her classroom -- of course her room was just about the farthest from the main entrance that you could possibly get.
Ready for the big reveal, I stepped into the doorway.
The room got quiet as they all stared.
The look on my daughter's face was priceless. "Oh god."
Another child asked, "Is that your mom?"
My daughter answered in a tiny deflated voice, "Yes."
There I stood, in full scuba attire: wetsuit, flippers, mask and snorkel. It was my husband's suit from at least twenty years earlier. It was the last thing she would've expected. And even with my fogged up face mask and sounding like Darth Vader as I breathed through the snorkel, she knew it was me.

But the funniest part of the whole thing was that none of the other parents were dressed up. All the uppity moms were lined up with their knitted Halloween/fall sweater vests.
And then there was ME.

Over the years my children have grown immune to my eccentricities, and now it is nearly impossible to embarrass them. Not that I haven't tried.

Salem and the Stoughton Name

I've always had a fascination with the Salem Witch Trials. I actually enjoyed learning about that part of history. Ancient Greece, not so much. As a kid we even went to Salem, Massachusetts, and visited all the historical sites. So cool!
Imagine my surprise when years later I realized I had married into a name associated with the witch trials. Okay. So, he wasn't really a good guy. But still.
Of course then when I started writing REACH, I had to add that historical element. Write what you're passionate about, right?
And it was really fun doing those chapters.

William Stoughton (July 7, 1631 – September 30, 1701) was in charge of what have come to be known as the Salem Witch Trials, first as the Chief Justice of the Special Court of Oyer and Terminer in 1692, and then as the Chief Justice of the Superior Court of Judicature in 1693. He ruled over the trials with the determination to eradicate all witches from Massachusetts Bay Colony - heavily influenced by his conservative religious convictions.
-excerpts taken from Wikipedia [link above] and Salem Witch Trials Documentary Archive and Transcription Project.

Looking Back

My oldest just started her first year at Community College.
How is that possible?
It's seems like it was just yesterday that we walked into the school, for the very first time. We were there for kindergarten registration and evaluation. Our little girl (who wouldn't be five for a couple more weeks) followed the counselor into the room and closed the door -- not even the slightest hesitation. She couldn't wait to go to school.
After about fifteen minutes the door opened, and the counselor invited us in. As our daughter played in the opposite corner, my husband and I got to sit in the tiny little chairs at the tiny little table.
The counselor smiled and went on to explain the process. "What I do, is ask the child to draw me a picture. I usually get a picture of a pet, their house, their stick figure family, the sun and flowers." She placed a paper in front of us, and said, "This is what your daughter drew."
The picture in front of us was a Diplodocus (dinosaur) jumping on a trampoline. The Diplodocus, floating in mid-air, was in perfect perspective. The counselor was surprised, but we were used to her drawings.
The counselor continued. "Then I ask the child what he/she wants to be when they grow up. I usually get stuff like: doctor, fireman, singer, dancer. I've even had bumble bee. Your daughter said she wants to be a Paleontologist." She smiled. "I didn't know what that was. I had to ask her." She snickered. "Your daughter is ready for school."

At the end of her first week I asked, "How do you like school so far?"
She answered, rather agitated, "It's STUPID! I don't know how to read yet.

Twenty Years and I'm Still Blowing Cake Out of My Nose

Today's my 20th wedding anniversary.
Can you believe I'm still married to this guy after this?

Yep, twenty years, and he was a blind date. I even joke that he was an arranged marriage. So, how did we meet? It's an interesting story.

I was a 21-year-old corporate travel agent. Broke and single – so broke I had to get a second job. I started working a couple of nights a week at a department store. One night a co-worker came up to me and introduced herself. I thought she was really nice – reaching out to the new girl. She asked if I would be interested in going out for a couple of drinks after work.
We went out that night. It started like any new friendship. What school did you go to? When did you graduate? Turns out we were the same age.
Then she asked, “Do you have a boyfriend?”
“No. How about you?”
“No,” she answered, “but since we're on the subject … I have a brother. He's 26. Nice. Good looking. Do you wanna meet him?” she said with a big grin.

To make a long story short. He was home, on two week leave from the Navy. He only had three months to go, and he was done with the Navy for good. Her plan was to find him a girlfriend in his home town, so that when he got out he would move back home. She went on to tell me that she hand picked me because I seemed nice and she thought we would make cute little nieces and nephews for her.
A couple of days later we went on our first date. Two months later we were engaged. And less than a year from when we met, we were married.

In this day and age, 20 years is a long time. So what's our secret? Don't take life too serious.
We've always had a lot of fun together, and that's how we've raised our kids.

Writing and Webbed Toes

Months ago I typed what I thought would be the final chapter of my first novel. I couldn’t have been more wrong, and if it weren’t for the on-line writing community, I might have sent my manuscript off before I was ready.

I have Therese Walsh of Writer Unboxed to thank for pointing me in the right direction. I met Therese on release day of The Last Will of Moira Leahy at our local Barnes & Noble. She was my first connection to the writing community; up until that point, I was on my own. Now, I’m connected with writers and agents through Twitter – which then leads you to their blogs, where these brilliant people share their advice and wisdom.

Well, I’m not on my own anymore. I also have my best friend and fellow writer, Paula. We met about ten years ago, when I worked with her husband. Right away I thought she was way-cool, but busy lives and different schedules didn’t allow for us to build a relationship at the time, and a short time later I left that job. Then last fall, because of my new online presence, we found each other. We’ve been pretty much inseparable ever since.

Paula has been a huge inspiration and sounding board for my writing. Being an aspiring writer can be a lonely journey, especially when friends and family don’t understand your dedication and drive: to not only complete a novel, but to actually want to be published.

It’s a little freaky how much Paula and I have in common -- that's us in the picture. We're like kindred spirits. We both write YA. We’re both a little nuts. And we both have webbed toes. (Maybe that was a little too much information?)

Anyway, I’m happy to announce that at approximately 8:00 pm on May 19, 2010

I finished writing my first novel!

The feeling of accomplishment is tremendous, and I know that with Paula’s help and the advice of the all the awesome people I follow (check them out) I will be prepared for the still long journey ahead.

Here are some links I found helpful and relevant to the stage I’m at, in the last week alone:
The Graceful Doe's Blog post titled More Helpful Writing Sites and Blog Posts, and she mentions ...
Jody Hedlund's blog post on the editing process, in addition to other helpful sites.
QueryTracker.net Blog, because ... well, I don't need a reason, they're just that good.
Random Daily Thoughts, because this post sounded so much like me.
Guide to Literary Agents, because they've got it all.

Ten Trivial Truths

I’ve been busy with my ms, and couldn’t think of a topic, so I decided to do a fun list of facts about me. While making up this list I found that I have a lot of embarrassing moments, so that will be a list for another day.

1. I’m an impatient procrastinator
2. I love saying Abu Dhabi
3. I always have sunglasses on my head
4. I’ve never been able to resist a chocolate chip cookie
5. I love being wacky for my kids, but as much as I try, they don’t embarrass easily
6. I thought plethora was a made up word
7. I was a baton twirler in the marching band
8. I’m not good at telling jokes
9. If I can’t think of a word (when I’m talking) I’ll say whatever word pops in my head
10. I once saw a Dunkin Donuts employee fall out of the drive-thru window

For the Love of All Things Crispy, Don't Call Me Ma'am

I’m gonna let you in on a secret -- just between you and me.
Ugh, I can’t believe I’m doing this.
Here goes ...
I
am
getting
older.
What, you’re not surprised? Well I am. Quite frankly, I’m pissed off!
I’ve had issues with my age ever since my 26th birthday.
Why 26? Because I was no longer in my early 20’s.

And don’t get me started on the irrational emotions on the eve of my 40th!
Can you say insane? Well, I know my family can.
Then the unthinkable happened.
Three days before my birthday I was in a department store and a sales lady stepped in front of me to show me “wrinkle cream for around the eyes.”
Then, because of the tears, she didn’t think “the cream would be very effective.”
Great! Now what do you have for red puffy eyes?

My 42nd birthday is coming up, and still, I continue to be amazed when people don’t think I’m 24. Why is that?
Last week I went to a department store for a mini makeover. I thought it would be fun -- I guess this time I set myself up for the disappointment.
I asked the girl, “What moisturizer do you recommend to help prevent fine lines? I’m starting to get a little crease between the brows.”
She pulled out a product and began raving about the cream as she applied it, saying, “My mom has that crease, and I told her …”
Her voice trailed off, as it was now drowned out by my own voice screaming in my head.
Mom! Did she just compare me to her mother? Oh my god! How old is this girl? How old is her mother?
I began to rationalize in my head.
Maybe she is, like, er, I don't know, 20. Okay … I guess, I could be her mother. Maybe her mother is young and looks great. But still, NOT cool.
Let me just say: I’m not good at guessing a person’s age. I later found out that she is married with two kids.

Sorry, I'm trying to get to the point.
As I look around, it seems to me that many of my peers are growing old “gracefully.” They seem comfortable with themselves –- even embracing their age and maturity. They act like moms, with their schedules and routines and stuff.
I’ve never been any good at that. I’m laid back. I like to fool around, make jokes, and act crazy with my kids. I listen to Radio Disney when the kids aren't in the car.
I love Wizards of Waverly Place, Hannah Montana, Jonas, Phineas & Ferb, Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends, The Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy, Suite Life, and iCarly. (Yes, I like TV.)

The long and the short of it, is this: I refuse to grow up. I won’t do it.

It's pronounced Michelle (mi-SHELL)

No one ever knows how to say my name. The story behind it is simply this. I was born in San Francisco in the 60's - wait there's more. My mother was a self-described weekend hippie, in other words creative and free, but sensible. Thank goodness or I could’ve been Sunshine or Moon Flower, although the name Michelle was a popular in 1968, and the Beatles song had come out the previous year. So Mom slapped an e on the end of Michael (my father) and voila, her version of the name was born.