Remember that Jennifer Page song? It's just a little crush...
There's just something about having a crush that gives you butterflies, huh? It's far less satisfying than the feeling you get when you're in an actual, meaningful relationship, but it's still nice to have someone to look forward to seeing everyday - I know this is true for girls. So, it seems fitting this Valentine's Eve to talk about love, or like, anyway.
Usually, about spring time, I start getting nostalgic about past relationships, and I lose some of my passivity when it comes to dating. This year, it came a little early. Many of my friends and family (okay, most) don't know I did this. I kept it under wraps because it has an aroma of desperation, but, I recently subscribed to an on-line dating service. It didn't work out, and I've since cancelled the membership. However, for about three weeks, I talked to one person, and that non-reproducible, gives-you-butterflies, air of possibility hung thick around me. I met this person, and that feeling quickly evaporated. Proof that ignorance is bliss.
That was a few weeks ago and the nostalgia subsided. Now, though, thanks to the weather, it's making a comeback. Spring time brings the cool, but not too cool mornings that seem to lend a clarity and cleanness to the whole day. Oddly, (this is East Texas, so not really odd at all) those days have been a part of this February's meteorological tapestry. Lately, I've found myself driving with windows down and sun roof open listening to my favorite old crush songs. When I get home in the evenings, I want to go for runs and walks and get out in the boat, and I expect to smell the grill fired up, a sign that summer is approaching. I'm just happy these days, and I want to share it with someone. The analyst in me says that with spring comes renewal, therefore my animal instincts are kicking in telling me to be fruitful and multiply. I can assure you, I have no intention of acting on these instincts. I write it all off to spring fever, just looking for a new element to entertain me until summer gets here.
Although, another theory I have, this time around anyway, is that my book is influencing me. Is it possible to have a crush on a fictional character? I think it is. I've always had a thing for Rhett Butler. But what about a character I've created? This is erring on the side of schizophrenia, so I won't linger here long. The love interest in my book is a Puerto Rican district attorney and the personality (and looks) I've created for him makes me wish he was a real person. I guess that's a sign that my book is engaging. If I, as its creator, can get that wrapped up in the story as I'm writing it, it stands to reason others will, too.
Yet another explanation for this onslaught of mushiness, is that every acquaintance I've run into lately has asked me if I've gotten married. I used to get defensive about these inquiries, but now I shrug it off. I'm very happy with my life. I've been happy with it for quite some time, in spite of not being married or in a serious relationship. So, I really don't think that's the explanation, either.
The culprit is most definitely the time of year, the romance in the air, and I'm not complaining. I even worry that once I'm permanently attached, I won't get this feeling anymore. But, then I remember that I'm waiting for God to send Him, and whatever He has planned for me is so much better than anything I can find or produce on my own. In other words, something wonderful is on the way - even more wonderful than a crush.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Getting off the multi-tasking
Since junior high, I've challenged myself to see just how much I can accomplish all at once. Seventh grade is when I discovered I could shave my legs and wash my face while I let my conditioner set for three minutes. Years later I would study notecards while driving back and forth to school. Not safe, but productive.
Multi-tasking. It was an epidemic about 15 years ago. Oprah talked about it and it snowballed into efficiency reform. I'm good at it, it's the chief reason I'm able to get so much done in 24 hours. I also love it, if I could multi-task while sleeping, well, I would. However, my need to constantly be marking something off my to-do list is starting to take its toll.
While driving to work this morning, I flipped on the radio. It was tuned to a Christian station, and instead of enjoying the song and taking the opportunity to meditate on God and spiritually prepare for my day, I automatically thought to myself, "I need to print this lead sheet and learn the song." (I am the keyboard player at my church.) This thought quickly turned into guilt for not having had prasie & worship rehearsal in several weeks, and soon I was stressed out, I had that feeling in my stomach of worry - the kind I get when a writing deadline is looming, and the words I'm staring at on the screen are not quite article quality. When I realized what I was doing to myself, I made a conscious effort to stop. It worked, in this instance. Most often, the matter is slightly more serious. Work-work, and writing-work have to get done at some point and I can't help but think about those tasks constantly when they are unfinished and incomplete.
Sadly, the past few "vacations" I've taken have either revolved around work, or I've had a writing deadline, meaning my laptop came along with me. A constant reminder that I could not completely unwind and relax. My trip to New Orleans was really for the purpose of researching my book, which is set in the Crescent City. A recent trip to Houston was to attend a conference hosted by the magazine for which I am a regular contributor. I enjoyed both of these trips and found time to do fun things, but nevertheless, I didn't get a "break" from everything, which is what is truly recuperative about a vacation.
My standard days are much the same. When I step from the shower and walk back into my bedroom to get ready, I turn cell phone, television and computer on, thus opening myself wide up for stress. I often work through lunch instead of being social. In the evenings, I won't allow myself to rest until I've done some writing and engaged in some form of exercise. I'm ashamed to admit this, but I've actually tried to pray while doing crunches.
Case in point, it's time I learn to relax and disconnect guilt free, and that means I don't have to multi-task 24 hours a day. It's alright to not be accomplishing something. This new initiative will commence tonight, during The Office.
Multi-tasking. It was an epidemic about 15 years ago. Oprah talked about it and it snowballed into efficiency reform. I'm good at it, it's the chief reason I'm able to get so much done in 24 hours. I also love it, if I could multi-task while sleeping, well, I would. However, my need to constantly be marking something off my to-do list is starting to take its toll.
While driving to work this morning, I flipped on the radio. It was tuned to a Christian station, and instead of enjoying the song and taking the opportunity to meditate on God and spiritually prepare for my day, I automatically thought to myself, "I need to print this lead sheet and learn the song." (I am the keyboard player at my church.) This thought quickly turned into guilt for not having had prasie & worship rehearsal in several weeks, and soon I was stressed out, I had that feeling in my stomach of worry - the kind I get when a writing deadline is looming, and the words I'm staring at on the screen are not quite article quality. When I realized what I was doing to myself, I made a conscious effort to stop. It worked, in this instance. Most often, the matter is slightly more serious. Work-work, and writing-work have to get done at some point and I can't help but think about those tasks constantly when they are unfinished and incomplete.
Sadly, the past few "vacations" I've taken have either revolved around work, or I've had a writing deadline, meaning my laptop came along with me. A constant reminder that I could not completely unwind and relax. My trip to New Orleans was really for the purpose of researching my book, which is set in the Crescent City. A recent trip to Houston was to attend a conference hosted by the magazine for which I am a regular contributor. I enjoyed both of these trips and found time to do fun things, but nevertheless, I didn't get a "break" from everything, which is what is truly recuperative about a vacation.
My standard days are much the same. When I step from the shower and walk back into my bedroom to get ready, I turn cell phone, television and computer on, thus opening myself wide up for stress. I often work through lunch instead of being social. In the evenings, I won't allow myself to rest until I've done some writing and engaged in some form of exercise. I'm ashamed to admit this, but I've actually tried to pray while doing crunches.
Case in point, it's time I learn to relax and disconnect guilt free, and that means I don't have to multi-task 24 hours a day. It's alright to not be accomplishing something. This new initiative will commence tonight, during The Office.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Faith
Yesterday I wrote about fear, so today it seems fitting to write about its defeater, faith.
A terrible line of storms, stretching from Corpus Christi, Texas, into Kansas pushed its way east last night. Ordinarily, storms do not bother me. But, this one had the media in a tizzy and had produced at least on life-ending tornado by the time I went to bed. It didn't reach my neck of the Piney Woods until after midnight, but when it did, it was loud, fast, and fierce enough to send me running away from windows. The lights flickered, debris hit the roof, and a terrifying whistling filled the air. I paused, waiting for the house to begin shaking, anticipating my roof being ripped off above me.
As humans we fear. We have since it was introduced with sin in the Garden of Eden. I prayed before I went to bed last night, I prayed for protection from that very storm. How quickly I forgot, how easily I neglected my faith. I remembered it soon enough, though. When the initial scare was over, I relaxed and spoke the name of Jesus and was able to fall back to sleep, and when my alarm went off this morning, I instinctively said "thank you."
How lucky we are that God doesn't forget us. I forget that He has promised to provide for and protect me, but He's never once let me down.
When the challenges of my day start accumulating, and they always do, it is so simple to not only get frustrated, but to also show that frustration, thus potentially ruining an opportunity to witness. One such incident happened just this morning. I've had an issue with one person in particular for some time now and my buttons were pushed today. And for some reason, no doubt the prayer-answering God I serve, I remembered that they don't do it unto me, they do it unto Him. And, in the words of my Aunt Wilma, "God don't like ugly."
I've got no control over this person's actions. Sure, in my human profession I can exercise some power, but ultimately, it is in God's hands. I remembered this and relaxed. He's got it under control and I just need to focus on pleasing Him.
This experience today is special to me, in part because I've struggled on my walk as of late. My faith and convictions have been challenged over the past few weeks. But when God ever so subtly reminds me that He hears my prayers, that He is ever-present and willing to stand by me and strengthen me, worship swells in my soul. Isn't it amazing, humbling, wonderful, to know that no matter how far we stray, no matter how much we may change, God remains the same. Even when we are far, He is near. He is my rock.
A terrible line of storms, stretching from Corpus Christi, Texas, into Kansas pushed its way east last night. Ordinarily, storms do not bother me. But, this one had the media in a tizzy and had produced at least on life-ending tornado by the time I went to bed. It didn't reach my neck of the Piney Woods until after midnight, but when it did, it was loud, fast, and fierce enough to send me running away from windows. The lights flickered, debris hit the roof, and a terrifying whistling filled the air. I paused, waiting for the house to begin shaking, anticipating my roof being ripped off above me.
As humans we fear. We have since it was introduced with sin in the Garden of Eden. I prayed before I went to bed last night, I prayed for protection from that very storm. How quickly I forgot, how easily I neglected my faith. I remembered it soon enough, though. When the initial scare was over, I relaxed and spoke the name of Jesus and was able to fall back to sleep, and when my alarm went off this morning, I instinctively said "thank you."
How lucky we are that God doesn't forget us. I forget that He has promised to provide for and protect me, but He's never once let me down.
When the challenges of my day start accumulating, and they always do, it is so simple to not only get frustrated, but to also show that frustration, thus potentially ruining an opportunity to witness. One such incident happened just this morning. I've had an issue with one person in particular for some time now and my buttons were pushed today. And for some reason, no doubt the prayer-answering God I serve, I remembered that they don't do it unto me, they do it unto Him. And, in the words of my Aunt Wilma, "God don't like ugly."
I've got no control over this person's actions. Sure, in my human profession I can exercise some power, but ultimately, it is in God's hands. I remembered this and relaxed. He's got it under control and I just need to focus on pleasing Him.
This experience today is special to me, in part because I've struggled on my walk as of late. My faith and convictions have been challenged over the past few weeks. But when God ever so subtly reminds me that He hears my prayers, that He is ever-present and willing to stand by me and strengthen me, worship swells in my soul. Isn't it amazing, humbling, wonderful, to know that no matter how far we stray, no matter how much we may change, God remains the same. Even when we are far, He is near. He is my rock.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Fear
Okay, I have given myself a deadline of Thursday for submitting a query of the book to an agent. I am terrified. . .of rejection.
I sent a query to an agent last Spring, before the book was really even off the ground, and it was of course turned down, and I completley understand why. For one reason, the particular agent was one of the biggest names in the industry (it's a miracle he even accepts unsolicited queries). Another is, he was a secular agent and I now know this book belongs in the Christian market, as do I as its author. Then there's the fact that it just wasn't a good query. I didn't know where the story was going yet. I rushed things.
I remember the sentence "I'm going to pass" staring at me from my e-mail. It was a really terrible feeling and I really don't want to feel it for a second time. I worry I'm rushing the submission again, maybe I should keep working on it. However, if I don't give myself some sort of deadline, I won't ever do it. And, how will I ever know if the book is ready unless I put it out there? Still, the thought of it not being good enough for this agent scares me, and I'm not scared of much. Yes, there are other agents, but I really like this one. I have one chance. If the first sentence of my book doesn't wow her, she will stop reading and send me THAT sentence.
Several people have read the first two chapters, which is what I have to submit along with my pitch. They've all liked it and said it made them want to read the rest of the book. But, they're not the agent. Their paycheck and reputation is not at stake. I can't read it anymore because I'm no longer objective. I know I have to preserve my own voice and style, but I find myself comparing my first pages to Patricia Cornwell books to see if I cover the same elements up front. That's not healthy because there is already a Patricia Cornwell. I want the world to read Rachel Dawn Allen.
I sent a query to an agent last Spring, before the book was really even off the ground, and it was of course turned down, and I completley understand why. For one reason, the particular agent was one of the biggest names in the industry (it's a miracle he even accepts unsolicited queries). Another is, he was a secular agent and I now know this book belongs in the Christian market, as do I as its author. Then there's the fact that it just wasn't a good query. I didn't know where the story was going yet. I rushed things.
I remember the sentence "I'm going to pass" staring at me from my e-mail. It was a really terrible feeling and I really don't want to feel it for a second time. I worry I'm rushing the submission again, maybe I should keep working on it. However, if I don't give myself some sort of deadline, I won't ever do it. And, how will I ever know if the book is ready unless I put it out there? Still, the thought of it not being good enough for this agent scares me, and I'm not scared of much. Yes, there are other agents, but I really like this one. I have one chance. If the first sentence of my book doesn't wow her, she will stop reading and send me THAT sentence.
Several people have read the first two chapters, which is what I have to submit along with my pitch. They've all liked it and said it made them want to read the rest of the book. But, they're not the agent. Their paycheck and reputation is not at stake. I can't read it anymore because I'm no longer objective. I know I have to preserve my own voice and style, but I find myself comparing my first pages to Patricia Cornwell books to see if I cover the same elements up front. That's not healthy because there is already a Patricia Cornwell. I want the world to read Rachel Dawn Allen.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Monday, Monday
Holy cow! This day has already been insane. I miss the crisp, clearly defined seasons of the Northwest. Let me explain...I started my day on the assumption that this afternoon would be a sunny (dry) 69 degrees, and therefore straightened my hair. Then, what do I hear, the pitter patter of rain on the roof top. I put my hair in a clip - doesn't look good. I put my hair in a ponytail - also does not look good, and (here's where the Type A kicks in) slightly unprofessional, I think. Hair goes back down.
Meanwhile, I have an article due next week that I desperately needed to send out for fact checking this morning. So in between hairstyles, I was trying to upload the article and hunt down e-mail addresses for an architect, pastor and contractor.
On to the wardrobe malfunctions!! EVERY ITEM OF CLOTHING I PUT ON HAD SOMETHING WRONG WITH IT. It is now more than ten minutes past my standard departure time. I am never late. (Another Type A characteristic.)
In the car, driving to work. Get behind the slowest person ON the planet. Get to work 15v minutes late - after receiving at least one text message that a staff member was out sick, making this the 134th day in a row that we've had absenteeism in either our school or daycare (that's another post). (Yes, I like to use parentheses.)
Nevertheless, I am keeping a smile on my face because I never know who might be watching to see how I react. I love my life, challenges and all. I love the people I work with, even when they get sick. I am truly honored to fill the role that I do, so much that I cant' quite come up with the words to describe it. I'll work on that and tell you later.
Meanwhile, I have an article due next week that I desperately needed to send out for fact checking this morning. So in between hairstyles, I was trying to upload the article and hunt down e-mail addresses for an architect, pastor and contractor.
On to the wardrobe malfunctions!! EVERY ITEM OF CLOTHING I PUT ON HAD SOMETHING WRONG WITH IT. It is now more than ten minutes past my standard departure time. I am never late. (Another Type A characteristic.)
In the car, driving to work. Get behind the slowest person ON the planet. Get to work 15v minutes late - after receiving at least one text message that a staff member was out sick, making this the 134th day in a row that we've had absenteeism in either our school or daycare (that's another post). (Yes, I like to use parentheses.)
Nevertheless, I am keeping a smile on my face because I never know who might be watching to see how I react. I love my life, challenges and all. I love the people I work with, even when they get sick. I am truly honored to fill the role that I do, so much that I cant' quite come up with the words to describe it. I'll work on that and tell you later.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Hello again
The title of this post is also the title of a Shelley Long movie. If you haven't seen it, Netflix it immediately. Long chokes on a Chinese chicken ball and comes back to life, only to find a cheating husband. It's quite good, with just the sort of Seinfeld-like randomness I enjoy.
On to the matter at hand. It's been about 18 months since I last posted to this blog, and it's time I get started again. I have a completed novel saved on the very computer I write from today. This novel is the primary reason I haven't posted for a year and a half. I am planning to query agents about the book this week. It's been "finished" since before Christmas, but I have procrastinated because I fear rejection. I have been editing and editing, knowing perfection is what it will take to get it published, but I fear I will start picking it to death. So, to the hands of an agent it shall go and hopefully this person will fall in love with it and decide to represent me. However, all I've heard lately is how the publishing industry is tightening its belt and only accepting truly extraordinary work, therefore literary agents are becoming much more scrutinizing concerning the work they will take on. True to form, I am worried.
On to the matter at hand. It's been about 18 months since I last posted to this blog, and it's time I get started again. I have a completed novel saved on the very computer I write from today. This novel is the primary reason I haven't posted for a year and a half. I am planning to query agents about the book this week. It's been "finished" since before Christmas, but I have procrastinated because I fear rejection. I have been editing and editing, knowing perfection is what it will take to get it published, but I fear I will start picking it to death. So, to the hands of an agent it shall go and hopefully this person will fall in love with it and decide to represent me. However, all I've heard lately is how the publishing industry is tightening its belt and only accepting truly extraordinary work, therefore literary agents are becoming much more scrutinizing concerning the work they will take on. True to form, I am worried.
Friday, July 20, 2007
On dining out
I was at a buffet last Sunday for lunch. I don't particularly care for buffets, but I live in Kilgore, so....
While I was getting my fried rice, this little girl was waiting behind me. When finished, I stepped away and moved to the other side of the island. As, I was getting some Lo Mein, I witnessed this child spoon rice onto her plate then proceed to pick out the peas and carrots (with her dirty little girl fingers!!) and throw them back into the serving basin. I was horrified. I considered telling her to stop, but people are funny about having their children corrected by strangers and I didn't want to have a run in with anybody at that buffet. Trust me, this child couldn't have been raised by any sane, non-violent, respectable person. Instead of saying something, I just gave her the most disapproving look I could muster. She reciprocated with a what-are-you-gonna-do-about-it smirk and walked off. I wanted to smack her. But, I just thanked the Lord I had already gotten my fried rice and told my family to avoid that particular dish. I'm sure there are all kinds of cooties crawling around buffets. I think I will permanently remove them from my list of dining options. They just freak me out. Where's the quality control?
While I was getting my fried rice, this little girl was waiting behind me. When finished, I stepped away and moved to the other side of the island. As, I was getting some Lo Mein, I witnessed this child spoon rice onto her plate then proceed to pick out the peas and carrots (with her dirty little girl fingers!!) and throw them back into the serving basin. I was horrified. I considered telling her to stop, but people are funny about having their children corrected by strangers and I didn't want to have a run in with anybody at that buffet. Trust me, this child couldn't have been raised by any sane, non-violent, respectable person. Instead of saying something, I just gave her the most disapproving look I could muster. She reciprocated with a what-are-you-gonna-do-about-it smirk and walked off. I wanted to smack her. But, I just thanked the Lord I had already gotten my fried rice and told my family to avoid that particular dish. I'm sure there are all kinds of cooties crawling around buffets. I think I will permanently remove them from my list of dining options. They just freak me out. Where's the quality control?
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