My MO for NaBloPoMo

There are ways to work around things in life, always. NaBloPoMo is no exception. The words MO are tossed about when speaking of a criminal and his ways, but I allow it to take on a softer meaning when it's NaBloPoMo.

You get to lose your mind around NaBloPoMo. A month of blogging, and after two weeks of *behaving* I let everything go. If I'm inspired, motivated, turned on by a post somewhere, I hitch my wagon to that star. I become action-prone, another term borrowed from yet an unseemly world I've encountered on cable TV. (That one is from a hoarder's episode)

My latest trick of the trade to keep on producing for NaBloPoMo comes second hand, diluted from the original stellar posting by the ever upright Melisa Wells of Suburban Scrawl. After she posted "Turn to your lovely draft folder for ideas, bloggers!," Vikki Reich of Up Popped a Fox, took that bit of nablobeauty and slapped it into a post on her site that made all the sense in the world to me, because I'm like Vikki.

I don't use an editorial calendar, like Vikki.
When I sit down to type is when I find out what I'm going to post that day, like Vikki.
My drafts folder is 171 posts thick, 160 of them with the title "Untitled." These entries are dying embers of what may have been cosmic brilliance once upon a time.

Thanks to Melisa's pristine effort, and Vikki's reduction of advice to a do-able task, I present, unearthed and dusted from its "Once I was a good idea for a post!" state, my
 Top 11 drafts folder entries:

1.) Teachers love to get toilet paper rolls

2.) Citizen Journalism

3.) My husband is just one among thousands who suffer

4.) don't let your lips touch a spigot

5.) I have no interest

6.) I hang my head, with GUILT GUILT GUILT

7.) Dear Dr: let me congratulate you on your opinion.

8.) Rap songs and curve balls

9.) The wrong side of the mountain

10.) Attack, stamina, and defense

11.) Genuinely penitent

I wish I would have written more. The suspense of what these were about is making the left side of my stomach hurt. Some go back to 2010 and there are no clues! In particular, if only I knew about #10. I am so in love with #10.

If anyone has suggestions for self hypnosis transportation to a time when I could have known what I was attacking, that I needed so much stamina for the defense of, please leave me a comment. Nothing will be considered too crazy.

I hope something works, because I really need a NaBloPoMo for tomorrow.

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What's the Worst Pain You've Ever Had? She Asked

A friend of mine asked on facebook today, "What's the worst pain you've ever felt?" I knew my answer in half a second. It was the time I broke the bone tip of my index finger. I know you can't go on until you hear more, so here's a story sure to make you wear hot pads on both your hands for the rest of your days.

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I would rather have three babies without an epidural.

I would rather pass a kidney stone.

I would rather have four wisdom teeth extracted at the same time, and then go home to a house that has no ice in it for compresses.

Throw in taking too big of a palate-scorching slurp from a too-hot Starbucks vanilla latte, too.

I’d rather do all of these things than have an out of nowhere gust of wind slam a solid wood door on the tip of my left hand index finger as I leaned outside to give my kids Popsicles.

I can say this with absolute no doubt, because on the morning of July 4, 2008, as I left my hand behind me on our back door, hanging on to the frame, a fluke of a 50 mph blast of wind came around the corner and slammed the back door closed.

With my hand still in the frame.

Have you ever been brought to your knees in pain? Have you ever felt so much pain that you can’t cry out for help? Have you ever received such a blow to your physical being that you are stunned to silence, unable to breathe, talk, or move? …and then.

You vomit.

You just bend at the waist and fall to your knees, and vomit, while your children and husband continue on around you with the blue sky and summer sun twinkling overhead, giggling as they run through the sprinkler. Your husband even looks over and smiles as he sways in his hammock.

I’m 20 feet away from them, losing my mind. I desperately try to communicate telepathically with my husband, but I can't find words to describe something beyond description. My husband finally feels me and gets up to find out why I’m sitting in the back door way and not outside enjoying the day we have planned together with our family. He comes to the back door and sees me hunched over. I am breathing in, ragged, and pulling myself over to the sink to run cold water over my flattened white finger. I am doing this because my grandmother’s answer to every injury growing up was, “Run cold water over it!” I’m not even able to cry at this point, I’m staring at my fingertip that is white as this page BUT with a nail that is darker than any Goth nail polish that Walgreen’s offers.

“What’s up, honey? Why aren’t you outside?," my husband asks.

I stare at him. I feel like I'm vibrating. He stares at the vomit on my shirt.

“Are you all right?,” he asks, sounding scared.

“No. No." I'm talking like I'm in a trance. "Something really bad happened. And it hurts so bad I feel sick. The wind slammed the door on my finger and it hurts worse than having a baby and I feel sick.” I answer him with more vomit.

“What do you want me to do?? Let me call my mom. She’s a nurse,” he says, offering to call his mother ten states away.

My mind can't cope with this hell world of hot fiery pain, and I can only think in images. I see itty bitty broken fingertip pieces. "NO!,” I shout back to him. “NO! I need help now, not a phone call. I need to go in. You stay with the kids, I’ll drive.”

And because he’s as stunned at the surreal scene before him as I am, he agrees. So, crazy with pain and vomit encrusted, I drive myself to the walk-in clinic four blocks away. Human beings really are amazing creatures. As I’m driving, I’m thinking of how maybe that story I heard about a woman who lifts the car up off her baby is true.

I park in the emergency only zone of the walk-in clinic pushing through the doors and cradling my hand like it's a left over prop from a Twilight Zone episode. “My hand, my hand,” I spit out to the people in line in front of me. They look at my finger, gasp, and part for me as if I were Moses and they the Red Sea. When I get to the front of the line and offer up my finger to the check-in receptionist, she looks at my hand and says, “I’ll get you in right away.”

She does as she promises, and I’m whisked to X-ray. Before the films are read, the Doctor says, “I can tell you right now, just from the amount of blood that’s pooling at your fingertip, it’s broken.” I don't have to look down at my finger, I feel the throbbing of too much of something collecting where this isn't enough room for it. Things are moving fast, 20 minutes ago, my finger was pale and flat, and now, it's bulging and crimson.

I don't feel like throwing up on my shirt again, so I say, "I need a barf bag."

The X-rays are read, and yes, I have broken off the finger tip of my left index finger. The little bone is floating inside. There is nothing to do but take calcium supplements and keep a splint on it.

Oh, no, wait, there is something else that you can do; you can come back in five days so they can DRILL A HOLE IN YOUR NAIL BED and release the pooled blood to alleviate the throbbing congestion.

Can I tell you about that? About getting a pulsating blood congested fingertip nail bed drilled? I’d rather have three babies without epidurals, pass a kidney stone, have four wisdom teeth extracted at the same time...

 

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Who Wants to Know What I Learned at a Writer's Conference?

I went to an all day local writer's conference today. Though not a spa with hot rock massages and smoked salmon for lunch, it was time that felt rewarding and reassuring.

With all of you in mind, I made sure to note tips, sage advice, collective wisdom, with the purpose of sharing it with you.

I'm home now, and so ready to hop into pajamas that have been run through the dryer to super hot, but I'm putting that off, to tell you the top must-knows from today's presenters. (thanks for being here to read them)

--Know your elevator pitch, and know it in 35 words. 35 words is a work of art.

--Talk to everyone. Even if an agent does not take memoir, it doesn't mean she doesn't know someone who does. Ask for a card. Thank them for their time when you talk.

--You can never be too polite. Always be polite. It is important to be polite.

--It's essential to be confident but don't oversell yourself. Don't tell a literary agent, "This is your lucky day!" Same goes for, "If you don't find a publisher for this, you will be missing out!"

--Know the genre your book fits into. You can't say "niche-less, unclassifiable, one of a kind." You have to give the agent a genre. They can't sell your book without one.

--Have a double demographic ready for your book. YA and suspense lovers. Juvenile non fiction and parenting. Dog lovers and grief survivors. Why would both these groups want to buy your book? (know the answer to that question)

--Be ready to answer the question, "Why are you the one to write this book?" A good answer is, "I've written on teens and social media use for ten years and have amassed hundreds of contacts and possible markets who would promote my book."

--Arrive with an open mind. The woman on the panel talking about depression era teaspoon collections may not be anyone you'd imagine connecting with, but LISTEN to what she has to say. She could teach you a lot about perseverance, twists and turns, making connections, or just remind you to never give up hope. LISTEN. You learn surprising things when you do.

--Have your query letter match your book's tone. Be consistent. If it's a funny book, have a funny style in your query. If it's a book about grief, don't come in with knock-knock jokes.

--Know everything about an agent before you pitch them. Know their name, how to spell it, their latest books, who they've worked with, what they're known for, the genre they accept. Know it all.

--My personal favorite quote from today, "Writing is the most ironic of professions. You need to be thick skinned and able to take the punches when the rejections come along BUT also be able to write honestly and vulnerably. These two opposites must exist together in one person if you're going to be a writer."

--Rejection is not personal. Rejection is not personal. Rejection is a business decision. Will they be able to sell your book? If you think they will, it's your job to convince them why you are a sound financial investment. "Because I want it," is not a good answer to someone spending money on you.

--If you find yourself near the event coordinators, thank them. They may not remember your name, but they will remember your words. Their work has been going on for months and is a labor of love. It comes with a lot of pre and day of headaches. Like, will we have enough coffee? So, say thank you to them for all the hundreds of little things they tended to with you in mind.

--If you have the serendipity to meet people you just.like.so.much, email them and tell them it was a pleasure.

--Oooh. Almost forgot about this one, "Don't be an Eeyore. Always be upbeat, positive, charged up, enthusiastic. If you can't be fired up talking about your book how are you going to convince me to be?" After I pitched today, the agent told me she didn't take my genre, but my enthusiasm for the project made her want to take a look at it.

--If someone at the conference goes out of their way for you, whether by giving you a contact's name, or a lead to a publisher that would be interested in your book, follow up with a thank you email. Just a few lines saying, "Thanks for telling me about Bluebird Books. I really appreciate your help!," is just the right way to do things for people who are nice to you for no other reason than to be helpful.

I had a great time today, I met an agent who asked me to send in my book proposal, and now I just heard the dryer timer go off telling me my pajamas are all toasty ready for me -- but first, I am sending Anna a thank you email for her time and encouragement.

Happy Saturday, everyone!

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Could It Be? Are You a Loud Talker?

How do you know if you're a loud talker?

I mean, other than someone asking you, "Why are you talking so loud?"

There are lots of ways one discovers this -- and some are hard to believe. But if enough people tell you the same thing, and not a-holes that don't like you telling you this, but good people who seem genuinely concerned, you've got to at least consider it.

Take me for instance. It pains me to say that I have been told I'm a loud talker. Not just like that, not "You're a loud talker!" but by shhhhhhhhhhhhhh! whenever they're around me. This is hard for me to process because I feel I am a quiet person. What I had to do and continue to have to do, is bring together the two sides of my brain. The one side that says you're quiet with the side that says, buuuuuuut  all the people say shhhhhh! when you're around.

You have to consider it. You know, like my co-worker from 50 billion years ago who was arrogant, condescending and spiteful. When she was told by our manager that she was arrogant, condescending and spiteful, she asked us to provide her with feedback, "I prefer it anonymously, and on my desk in by 8:00 tomorrow morning. Typed, please."

Just say the word, sister, because you got it. Eight notes from her co-workers on her desk the next day, "Yup. Yup. And Yup," the typed messages were all identical. Was that the end of it? Do you think I'm going to tell you that she bit our heads off and screamed that we were wrong? Nope. She shocked us all by approaching us in a group and with a direct gaze, she said four sentences. "Well. Apparently, I misjudged myself. Thank you for your honesty. I'll take your feedback to heart. Thank you*" (thank you doesn't count as a sentence, because it's manners. and I expect that)

Wow, right? She didn't argue us out of our perception. She took it to heart. I've never forgotten that. That's why I have to believe that I'm a loud talker. Because at least 50 people have told me that I am. And the fact that when I go to the movies the row in front of me turns around to glare.

What's the first thing a loud talker does with this information? When it's me that's the loud talker, you take your Reader's Digest Health Edition reading butt to an audiologist and say "PEOPLE TELL ME I'M A LOUD TALKER SO CAN YOU CHECK MY HEARING PLEASE." There, you get your hearing checked. When the tests come back within normal range, you next make an appointment to have your ears cleaned. After that grossness happens, you just try to talk quiet-er.

But it feels like whispering. Harsh, hoarse, tough on your vocal cords, whispering.

It will always feel like air being forced out too hard. But that's whispering, I guess.

I'm a loud talker. Something so very funny but not funny as much as ironic when I tell you that growing up, my teachers always told me I had to speak up. Speak up, Alexandra!

Guess what I've been doing ever since? Only now, turning my volume button down makes my shoulders pull up in anxiety because OMG NO ONE IS GOING TO HEAR ME.

The fear of not being heard, is where this LOUD TALKER GOT HER START PRETTY SURE NOT POSITIVE BUT A GOOD GUESS.

I know this about myself, so the ones who think they're cleverly role modeling for me by using their subdued voices thinking I won't notice what they're up to, I know. You want me to mimic.

To the requests Calm Down!, I am calm, I'm just asking you if you make the stuffing out of the turkey or in the turkey.

The funny jokes about "Hey, you don't have to scream, I'm right here," dumb. It's my voice, not my vision, that's affected. I see you.

I tried an experiment once. Before I spoke, I asked myself are you on fire are you being followed is someone after you. If not, lower your pitch.

I did.

And then people started asking me if I was depressed.

Why do you ask?

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Food Pantries - What to Give

Some things are funny, some never are.

I know that humor is subjective but when it comes in the form of dismissive unawareness to another's plight, I can't not say anything. Yesterday I was at our grocery store when I overheard someone pushing their cart in front of me say, "Oh, the Thanksgiving food barrels are out! You know what that means, I can clean out my cabinets of the turtle soup I never used!"

Oh, so funny, right? Nope. Nope nope and again nope. I told her how I think if I were without food, that I'd appreciate food that was within its expiration date. (maybe she'll listen to me, maybe she won't. you can't tell with people)

There are families who count on the food donations that fill food pantries. It's hard to think of families making the trip to a pantry to find items that so obviously scream 'discard.' I've heard jokes like this before. When I was working and around a lot more people than I am now, our company would hold food drives. There would be laughter when someone would say, "Good! Finally a place to dump the canned artichokes I've been hanging on to for ten years!"

To the people who think this way about food pantries, can I ask you to please stop? If someone goes to a food pantry, it's because their family has to eat.

Before I decided to write this post, I called our area pantry and asked them the best items to donate with the food donation barrels that are out for the month of November. I want to share this with you so that when you do pick up extra unexpired items at the store (as would be, you know, the loving thing to do) you'll get these items, educate others about these items, and let your kids see and remember what items are best.

Happy food drive filling, and enjoy the warm fuzzies fluttering in your heart:

1.) Mixes and cereals made with water. Many households are without eggs or milk, butter, so anything that only requires water is awesome. Think pancake mixes, cereals, oatmeals, Ramen, boxed noodles, instant rice. You get the picture.

2) Mac and cheese that comes with the cheese mix in a foil pouch. Nothing needed but boiling water for the noodles. Stovetop stuffing is perfect, too.

3.) Lots of canned protein. Turkey spam is really good and along with some boxed noodle mixes, there are the fixings for a complete dinner. 6-packs of tuna are awesome!

4.) Peanut butter. Oh, in all the sizes and packages. I pick up the peanut butter crackers in a 10-pack because I know they 'll be used to build a protein-packed lunch for a hungry child.

5.) Squeezable fruit sauces. These can be used for breakfasts, school lunch, after school snacks. We can help kids to get their fruits during times of  doing without. Small lunch size cups of mandarins are great for Vitamin C. Target sells them in packs of 16. Also, fun sized cartons of craisins, raisins, yummy yogurt raisins.

6.) Toothpaste and toothbrushes! Some cute toothbrushes will make a child's day! I pick up 5 or so and toss them in, along with kid toothpastes and some floss.

7.) Something special for kids. Why not? They're little and what fun to find bags of individual Oreos in the bags your parents bring home. Wouldn't you like that if you were little? Say yes. Something that is unexpected and not a necessity, but a reminder of what makes you happy, that's doing good right there.

8.) Remember canned and dried beans/lentils/chickpeas for vegetarians. Minute Rice makes a dehydrated pack/combo of rice and beans together -- you add water to the fill line, they're pretty good.

This list will be my guideline when I donate to food pantries. I'll vary it, but one steady item that I will always always always include from now on is 2 boxes of instant baby cereal. It only needs water, it's the first food many infants have, and what a relief for a mama to know that in her cabinets, her baby has something to eat.

You guys are the best. If you have it to spare, please share.

xo

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