Category Archives: writing

Five On Friday – September 23, 2011

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I’ve only listed five things, but I’m very wordy today. If you plan on staying with me until the end here, you might want to grab a cup of tea and settle in.

1.     Katie is currently singing “On My Own” for voice lessons right now. Her dream is to play Eponine in the high school production of Les Miserables so she’s thrilled to have this song. Also, it’s one of my favorite songs from the play and as I listened to her practice last night I put my book down, closed my eyes and nearly wept with the beauty of it.

Let’s dissect this paragraph, shall we?

        a)     Katie isn’t necessarily interested in musical theater as a career or anything like that. Her greatest aspiration is to do a high school play. Is it just me, or does that strike anyone else a little funny? Not as in weird funny, but giggly funny. It’s just me, isn’t it?

        b)     Katie’s high school has no plans to produce Les Mis as far as we know. And yet, her goal is to play Eponine when her high school does. She’s a junior and she only has this and next year to make her dream a reality. Start crossing your fingers now.

        c)     Katie is sick. Her tonsils and adenoids are swollen and she sounds like someone is choking her. You can imagine how her singing is at the moment. And yet I thought her gargley, strangled voice was beautiful. Is that a mom’s bias or what?

2.     I finished reading “The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest” the other night. I loved the series. As a warning to those of you who are looking for something good to read, it’s full of disturbing violence and macabre crimes. That said, it’s a great detective series that doesn’t always go the way you think it should.

Obviously I am in need of something new to read so today I purchased a new book for my Kindle – Saving CeeCee Honeycutt by Beth Hoffman. The blurb I read said, “Steel Magnolias meets The Help in this Southern debut novel sparkling with humor, heart, and feminine wisdom.” How could I resist?

3.     Last night Katie and I looked at local farm houses for sale on-line. We fell in love with a few of them, but the one we loved the most was built in 1803. It was also the most expensive at just a little over 3 million. It had a charming stone outbuilding that matched the large barn. At first I thought the outbuilding would be perfect for my writing/photography studio, but then I realized it would be even more perfect for Todd’s guitar repair business. It was climate controlled so the guitars would be in a good environment and had a lot of natural light and was roomy enough for his purposes.

The barn itself was probably worth a small fortune. It didn’t look like any livestock housing I’d ever seen. It had a wood floor and a high ceiling with beautiful beams and natural lighting, and it was obvious they used it for entertaining. In Katie’s words, “That will be perfect for my wedding.” Yes, indeed. And just think of all the money we’ll save in renting a hall.

The back of the farmhouse had a long covered brick porch and overlooked a pretty pond and rolling hills – also conducive to an outdoor wedding, as Katie pointed out. The house itself was a little over 9,000 square feet and had 6 bedrooms, 6 full baths, a media room the like of which I’ve never seen, fireplaces in all the rooms (though I didn’t see one in the media room), a beautiful and sunny and humongous gourmet kitchen and very large rooms, which I found interested considering the date it was built.

As we scrolled through all 28 of the pictures I realized I would need a whole lot more than $3,000,000.  Some of the rooms, though so utterly charming with their vintage architecture and beautiful moldings, left me at a complete loss as to how to decorate. I realized I would need to bring in the big guns – Candace Olsen or Vern Yip or some such HGTV designer.

I would also need a staff of housecleaners.

4.     We have a 30 foot pull behind trailer that hasn’t been out of storage for at least a year and a half. That’s very sad because this family has spent some of our best trips – from short weekends to long vacations – in that RV. It is really hard to find even a weekend when nobody has to work or has any other obligations and we just kind of stopped trying to find the time to go camping. I finally convinced Todd it was time to get it inspected and looked over so we could start using it again. Early next week he will be picking it up from the RV service center and on Thursday we’re headed down to spend a long weekend with Taylor. I can’t even begin to tell you how excited I am on so many levels, not the least of which is more fodder for the blog.

5.     I stayed up until 12:30 this morning writing. I hadn’t even planned to write. It just sort of happened and it was exhilarating. I haven’t felt that kind of need to write for a very long time. It seemed almost like it was someone else writing. The events were mine and the emotions were mine, but it just poured out and it was a beautiful thing. I wrote the entire first chapter of my book. You know. The one I’ve been working on for the past five+ years?

Part of the breakthrough was a change in my thinking. When I started to write after the year from hell it was just for me. Then people began to tell me I needed to write a book and eventually I started looking at this process as a means to get published. Which, in turn, made me start thinking about my angle. There are hundreds of personal accounts of breast cancer on the shelves; what would make mine different or stand out? What I came up with was bupkis. There’s nothing particularly original about my story. And that added to my writing hang up.

I finally had an epiphany where all this is concerned. I HAVE to write this book for me, for Todd, for Taylor and for Katie. I don’t feel like I have a choice in the matter. I don’t have to write it for anyone else, though. And that thought was so very liberating. When you’re learning how to write for publication you learn the book must start with a hook. Something catchy to make the reader want to keep reading. No matter how I tried, I couldn’t come up with anything better than, “2005 started out as a great year.” How does that grab ya?? It doesn’t. (Though I daresay, “Call me Ishmael” isn’t so catchy, either, and look at what that started.)

So once I brushed off all the technicalities of writing a book – start with a hook, have a unique angle, etc., I was able to just sit down and write.

Another thing I was struggling with was the very beginning. I kept trying to start my story with my diagnosis. But that’s not really where my story began and I’ve always said that. So why in the world would I start writing my story there? Once I realized I needed to start nearly two months earlier it flowed.

Also I don’t think it had been the right time for me to write this story. As long as it had been, I don’t think I was in the right place to come face to face with some of those demons again. But there was a fear that if I waited too long I would become too subjective and the emotion wouldn’t be there to aid in my writing. Anybody who writes will tell you some of the best writing comes when you’re in a place of complete angst. I’m not sure why that is, but it’s true.

And lastly, I believe that it was God’s time for me to start. It’s so easy now to look back six years and see where God was and how He was working in all the mess. And as I wrote about my life leading up to the diagnosis with the prospective move to Pennsylvania and everything that meant, I couldn’t help but smile and praise God for what He did for us, even if I wasn’t completely aware at the time.

Now all of this may seem silly or read like mumbo jumbo to some of you. And that’s okay. But for others of you, you totally get this.

And that is my five on this rainy Friday in September. I’m off to do a little housekeeping and then start working on Chapter 2.

Adieu.

Creative Happiness

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Today is the first day of a four day weekend and I’m determined not to waste it. I’m going to do all manner of right-brained activities, starting with my new blog header.

This field is across the street from my neighborhood. Every time I leave the development and look at the green grass, the hay bales and blue skies I think to myself, “Self – you must needs take a picture of that!” (That would be my Old English coming out.) So today I did. And I edited and cropped and BAM! It’s a blog header. That made me happy.

I also made a new header for the CLEAR blog to replace the very generic (yet pretty) header it came with. That also made me happy.

Even now as I’m writing this very trivial post I’m happy to be doing something creative. We’re gearing up for Kids’ Camp at church and that means a lot of database work for me – which I love and is actually more right-brained than you might think – but I’m craving artistic expression. Whether it be through photography, writing, sewing, decorating or whatever. And while my artistic expression may not be for everyone, it is for me!

And that makes me happy.

From Russia With Love

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Last night was one of my not so good sleep nights. I blame it on TV and books. Let me explain.

I’m currently reading an epic war-time love story called The Bronze Horseman by Paullina Simmons. Here’s the back blurb:


Leningrad 1941: the white nights of summer illuminate a city of fallen grandeur whose beautiful palaces and stately avenues speak of a different age, when Leningrad was known as St Petersburg.

Two sisters, Tatiana and Dasha, share the same bed, living in one room with their brother and parents. It is a hard, impoverished life, yet the Metanovs know many who are not as fortunate as they.

The family routine is shattered on 22 June 1941 when Hitler invades Russia. For the Metanovs, for Leningrad and for Tatiana, life will never be the same again. On the fateful day, Tatiana meets a brash young officer named Alexander.

Tatiana and her family suffer as Hitler’s army advances on Leningrad, and the Russian winter closes in. With bombs falling and the city under siege, Tatiana and Alexander are drawn to each other in an impossible love. It is a love that could tear Tatiana’s family apart, a love that carries a secret that could mean death for anyone who hears it.

Confronted on the one hand by Hitler’s unstoppable war machine, and on the other by a Soviet system determined to crush the human spirit, Tatiana and Alexander are pitted against the very tide of history, at a turning point in the century that made the modern world.

Mesmerizing from the very first page to the final, breathtaking end, The Bronze Horseman brings alive the story of two indomitable, heroic spirits and their great love that triumphs over the devastation of a country at war.

It’s the kind of story that gets into your mind and won’t let go. The characters won’t leave me, I hold my breath as they endure the bombings and the lack of food, I’m fascinated by the culture and I’m enamoured by the beautiful images and horrified by the terrible scenes the pages paint. Lucky for me it’s the first book in a trilogy. Unfortunately, this first paper back is nearly 900 pages.

And to add to the intrigue of the book is the fact that, while the author was born in Russia, she has lived in the US since she was ten. Okay. That’s not the interesting thing. The interesting – and very frustrating – thing is that her books are NOT AVAILABLE IN THE US! What’s up with that? Or if they are, they’re usually very expensive. I was lucky enough to have a friend mail it to me, but this is the kind of book I want to call my very own.

Okay. Enough of that rant. Let’s move on.

*Edited to add – I just ordered all three books from Doubleday Bookclub. They were 20 cents each. Of course, now I’m a member of the Doubleday Bookclub. But is that so bad?*

Katie was sick yesterday so she stayed home. Gilmore Girls was on from noon until nearly 6:00. Lorelai and Rory, Rory and Lorelai, sassy banter, sarcastic wit, All.Day.Long. Not that that’s a bad thing. I’m a fan so it wasn’t a trial or anything.

The problem, however, was that I dreamt about the Gilmore Girls in Russia the entire night. I can’t even tell you any more than that. Just that the Gilmores were in Russia and were speaking with Russian accents. And then I would wake up and try to compose the blog post I was going to write about the Gilmores in Russia.

Why is it the posts I compose while I’m semi-conscious are brilliant, yet when I surface to full awareness the brilliance slips from my grasp and all that’s left is the mundane?

Did I Mention…

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A couple of months ago the director of my preschool asked if I would be coming back next year and if I was interested in the possibility of being a lead teacher. Those who think just anyone can be a preschool teacher are sadly mistaken. It takes a special person to be a good one and I was flattered she has that kind of confidence in me. I, knowing myself better than anyone, understand my gifts lie elsewhere.

I told her I would talk to Todd, pray about it and get back to her. So I talked, prayed and got back. It wasn’t an easy decision because: a) I love those kids. Each one of them has wormed his or her way into my heart; and b) I hate to disappoint people. But my reply was that I would neither be a lead teacher nor an assistant next year.

I’m blessed in many ways and one of those ways is that I don’t HAVE to work. The extra money is nice – and with college looming ahead it would be helpful – but at this time it’s not a necessity. Another way I’m blessed is I have a husband who supports my quest to be an author and a speaker. In fact sometimes I think he wants to see me published even more than I do.

So I told Kelly I wouldn’t be back next year because I wanted to concentrate on writing and speaking. It seemed like such a ridiculous reason. For one thing I’m only working 7 hours a week. For another thing it sounds so pretentious. It’s very easy to start thinking how ridiculous my desire is and who would ever want to read anything I write or listen to anything I might have to say.

To actually acknowledge these things as a career is almost embarrassing and to me it just sounds like an excuse. But each and every time I start thinking that way somebody – many times one of you – says just the right thing to encourage me and make me think that maybe I’m not crazy. Well, not in this matter anyway. I’ve finally come to the place where I truly believe with all my heart this is the path God wants me on. And because I believe this is where I’ve been led it’s starting to be a little easier to say.

There’s another reason I have decided not to work at the preschool next year. I’ve known this in the back of my mind, but didn’t want to admit it to myself because it sounds so, I don’t know. Whiney? Definitely pathetic. But the gig is too physically demanding. (I’m sure you can now see why I didn’t want to admit this.)

I spend a lot of time standing up, dancing around with the kids, sitting in very tiny chairs which means trying to extricate myself out of very tiny chairs, getting on the floor to play blocks or trains or whatever and struggling to get up. This never used to be a problem with me and it sure is humbling now. My body behaves as though I’m an elderly woman. I thought I would get used to it, but even now I’m fatigued and sore by the time I get home.

So I’ll continue working at the preschool until the middle of June and then I’ll be done. Part of me is very sad because, as I said, those kids are just something else. Even the little rascals are precious. But I truly believe God is leading me down a different path. And writing is so much less strenuous.

Ho Hum

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I don’t know what my deal is, but I haven’t been able to write a thing. I’ve been working on my Lake Perris post and my 2005 Race for the Cure post and neither one of them are fit for publication. I compose brilliant, award-winning narratives in the shower, in the car, while I’m washing dishes, as I’m getting ready in the morning, but when I sit down to actually write I draw a complete blank.

Taylor and his girlfriend, Kristen, attended the Winter Ball last night. He was handsome and she was, as usual, beautiful. As we drove to her house before the dance I asked him if he was excited. His answer was such a Todd answer I had to laugh. I’m looking forward to it okay, but it’s really about Kristen. I just want her to have as good a time as she’s hoping for. That was a proud mama moment to be sure. Turns out she did have as good a time as she was hoping for and Taylor had as much fun as she did.

We bought Katie the complete series of the Gilmore Girls. She’s been going through it at an incredible pace. Todd has caught a couple episodes and he has fallen under the spell. So last night he and I watched the first three episodes of season one.

He is officially a fan of a girly show. In his defense, though, it is just so darned funny! He tried to swear me to secrecy, but I told him I couldn’t keep this to myself. It begged to be blogged about. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t stop from telling everyone. So now you know.

After running all over the place yesterday and our typically busy Sunday schedule, I’m looking forward to a day of doing nothing much tomorrow. Both Todd and the kids will be home and about the only thing we have planned is an early dinner at the new Ruby Tuesday by us. That and sleeping in late.

Until next time…

Happy Birthday To Me

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Guess what I got for my birthday. A crick in the neck of epic proportions. Which makes me want to call it a river in the neck. Because you know how some people call a creek a “crick” and a river is bigger than a creek? That came to me in the early hours of morning – when I do my most creative thinking. Like the other morning when my nose was freezing and I started thinking about creating nose warmers. I even considered talking to Tori at Radioactive Girl about knitting some.

And guess what I get to do for my birthday. I get to go to the dentist where they will cram my mouth with disgusting goo. I’ll try to go to my happy place and pretend I don’t want to gag.

I’m not sure what’s going on for dinner tonight. All I know is I don’t have to cook.

Friday night we’re all going to a hockey game for my birthday. I love hockey. Not on TV, though. You have to be there in person. And I especially like it when there’s a good fight. I’m not sure why that is, either, because I hate violence. But my favorite game ever was when both teams ended up in the penalty box and the ice was covered with gloves and helmets and sticks. Good stuff.

Geesh! Is it just me or does this post read like something Eeyore would write?? I will leave you with my post from last year’s birthday.

My thirty-eleventh birthday is next week. It’s not a landmark birthday and nothing to get excited about. In fact, if I wasn’t so greedy as to want presents and a day of being spoiled, I’d just forget about it altogether.

But I don’t think that’s an option anyway. After the last year-and-a-half we’ve gone through, my birthday has become kind of a big deal. Instead of lamenting the fact that I’m middle aged, I need to be happy that I made it to middle age. Oh, I know that’s all very dramatic and it’s really not something I think of very often. Yes, I had breast cancer, but it was caught fairly early and my prognosis is excellent. There are so many worse things it could have been.

You may or may not know that I’m writing a book about my experience. It’s not a self-help or an inspirational book. It’s more of an Erma Bombeckesque look at what the past 18 months have been like for us. Don’t get me wrong. Parts of it are very serious. But I was amazed at the humor and the silliness that was borne of some of my situations.

As much as I would love to see this book published, I’m not going to hold my breath. If I do ever manage to get it into some semblance of an organized thought process I will try publishing. But even if it never comes to anything that’s okay. It’s a type of therapy for me now and it will forever be a record of what our family endured and learned through all of this.

So here’s a little excerpt from my story that has to do with my birthday:

In the spring of 2005 I had thick, curly hair that fell beneath my shoulders. I was also walking a few days a week with a friend. With the age of 40 closing in, I was in a desperate want to get into shape. You see, I had this plan.

For my 40th birthday I wanted long, curly, auburn tresses and a pair of red thigh high PVC stiletto boots. I wasn’t sure what would go in between my locks and the heels, but suffice it to say it was going to be hot. Todd would have his very own vixen.

Instead, I had a very thin buzz cut, 30 extra pounds and only one boob. Thigh high boots would have been a waste of money (and they ARE expensive) because I probably couldn’t have shimmied them past my knees. And whatever provocative little number would have accompanied the boots would have been too filled out in some spots, not filled out in others, decidedly dropping the sexy factor to somewhere around nil.

They say that 50 is the new 30, so does that make 40 the new 25? If so, what does that make 42? I’ll be going through reconstruction at the age of 41, so 42 is the next birthday I have a shot at.

Emotionally it was a little difficult to reach the landmark age of 40 in the way I did. My hair had started coming in, albeit slowly and still thin. I was actually scheduled for my last chemo treatment the day before my birthday, but the doctor graciously postponed it for nearly a week so I could enjoy my celebratory weekend.

Todd booked the two of us in a romantic little cottage up in Eureka Springs that we had stayed in several years earlier. The cottage had guest journals and I flipped back through the archives until I found my entry from 1995. It was a poignant moment to see the words I had written in such a different time. We were a young, happy couple with a baby and toddler at home. We were there to celebrate our 8th anniversary and enjoyed the romantic interlude from our hectic lives.

It was a good time for us. There were no thoughts of cancer or chemotherapy or reconstruction or hot flashes or, well, the list goes on. I was saddened by the way our lives had changed so drastically. I was heartened by the good and joyful life we had shared.

But mostly I was grateful. Even in the midst of a life threatening disease and all the problems associated with treatment, even with our husband and father living 1200 miles away, I had joy. I had the most important things necessary to a good life.

I had a husband who loved me with everything, even though I couldn’t wear thigh high stiletto boots and looked more like a GI than his wife. I had two children who were healthy and happy and who had stepped up to the plate when I was too tired or weak to do what needed doing. I had family and friends who loved me and lavished me with help and food. And I had a God who loved me and comforted me and promised me this, too, shall pass. I had everything I needed.

I am still shooting for the long, curly, auburn hair and thigh high stiletto boots for 42, by the way.

Dangit!! Looks like I’ll have to aim for 43, now.

A Message From God

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As most of you know, I’m trying to write my memoirs. I don’t really think of what I’m writing as memoirs, but that would be the technical term. When I think of memoirs I think of someone who has done something incredible or who had a bevy of torrid affairs – neither of which I can claim.

So if when this book gets published I will naturally use my real name. Because it would be silly to use a pen name for a book about me, doncha think?

What you may NOT know is that before I had something to actually write about I played around at writing fiction. I love making up a story – and I have a fertile enough imagination that I can do it. I’m not sure about the actual writing of the story, though I do have a few people who are very encouraging. And they’re not all family, either!

Because my name is so common – can I get a witness, all you Jennifer’s out there – I want to use a pen name if I ever publish my fiction. If you read this post you know about my fondness for the name Roxanne. I’m thinking of going by Roxy because there aren’t a ton of those out there. (No, Terri. This does NOT mean you get part of the royalties)

Since Roxanne is my oldest sister’s middle name I thought it would be nice to use my other sister’s middle name as well, but Roxy Suzanne sounds more like a stripper than an author and since I won’t be writing erotica I think I’m going to have to pass on that one.

Now wanting to be a published author is quite a lofty goal. I mean how many of you handful of people who actually read this blog have the same desire? And it’s easy to get discouraged and be full of self-doubt.

I absolutely believe God still talks to us. He speaks to us through the Bible, in sermons, through people – a myriad of different ways. Where I hear him the most, however, is in music.

This morning as I walked on the treadmill I was listening to my very eclectic collection of songs on my iPod in shuffle mode. My mind was filled with doubts about my writing when I realized Voice of Truth by Casting Crowns was playing. Here is the chorus:

But the voice of truth tells me a different story
The voice of truth says, “Do not be afraid!”
The voice of truth says, “This is for My glory”
Out of all the voices calling out to me
I will choose to listen and believe the voice of truth

I giggled a little bit and sang along and do you know what the very next song was?

Roxanne by the Police! (Told you it was eclectic)

So this is what I believe God was telling me. “Keep at it, ignore the doubts and use the name Roxy.”