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Showing posts from August, 2009

Juggling Writing and Being a Mom

It's a tough gig, it really is. But I certainly would not pick one over the other. As a writer, I feel I have so much more depth and ability to relate to things on every aspect than when I was childless. Believe me, I remember being 18 and feeling things very deeply and spending hours just thinking about everything. I had strong opinions about the world, but I was poor at relating to others. I could not see past the issues which had molded me from birth and all the miserable years of school, etc. Basically the world was black and white with no gray, which is sad, because much of the world rests in that in between realm of gray.
So that's one aspect of being a parent/writer . . . the emotional aspect of it. The other aspect is about how one deals with their time, or more importantly other people's needs for their time. Kids do not understand the idea of Mommy needing to work. They don't know what it is to edit the first chapter fifty times or write ten synopse…

Parks and Memories

Took the kids to the park today. It is super lovely outside with a nice breeze breaking through the lingering summer sunshine. The park we went to is the same one I remembering playing at when I was a kid. It has better play equipment, but the layout is still the same with two arched bridges going over the creek, and a nice set of connected trails.
It brought back so many memories of being a kid and the way I felt at the time. I didn't have the best childhood, by far, but I do remember the good times and moments at that park would be qualified as good times. The 70's were such an organic era; pure, yet tainted with just a hint of the chaos to come. Grass was green, but not too green. People had long natural hair and bell bottomed jeans. Older men wore clothes like Ward Cleaver, and they smoked and it was considered just fine. RC cola tabs were on the ground and you walked over them with no sense of being bothered, but then when you cut your foot on one, your mom just …

Email Submissions . . . bite

I really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really
don't like what happens to my text when I paste it into the email for a query submission. Edited this as I figured it out . . . as much as is possible . . . which isn't much . . . but oh well.
I'm thinking too much.

My First Blog

I like this. With a blog you don't have to worry about agents or publishers or writing a synopsis. You just write. Yay.I have always been a better writer than speaker. I used to give my mother notes when I was upset because it was the only way I could tell her the way I really felt, and of course the writing that I used was so flowery and disgustingly emotional that she found it amusing--kept the notes--and put them in her dresser to keep forever. One day I found them and was incredibly embarrassed. I think I destroyed a few, which I feel really bad about now that I'm a mom, but at the time I was protecting myself. Being the youngest child, I grew up having to hide and conceal or be teased mercilessly. Those notes were like ammo for my siblings, and I did not need that kind of disadvantage. Need I tell you about the time I was fell asleep crying over some stupid thing, only to wake up with the sound of my cries being played out in the back yard--neighborhood kids gath…