It's 7:59 a.m.

I get to work early so I can tinker around before I have to really buckle down. If I don't work at work, I will not survive the rest of my life.

I feel so busy these days. I want time to read books outside of work (more than five pages at a time). I want to upload pictures from my phone and camera and blog about the things I've taken pictures of lately. I want to have a cleaner house. I want to do more for others.

I do, do things for one other - Drueby.

I would love it if some of these schools to which Collin has applied would call him. He's worthy of an interview. I'll be honest. I'm angry that he hasn't been called. I'm angry at these people on these committees who pass over his vitae and cover letter. I'm sad when he finds out that another job that he'd applied for has been filled. Right now that's as far as my anger goes, but it's getting scary. I've said that God is going to take us right to the point of thinking Collin's going to have to work at Starbucks and THEN give him a job. Maybe that's what he really is doing. Maybe Collin will have to work at Starbucks. I need patience.

Now to work. It's 8:08. Oops!

Things I've Wanted to Blog About but Haven't Found the Time To

A couple of the meals I've made recently.

The flowers I got for Valentine's Day.

The fact that my baby, as of today, is pulling up and suddenly very clingy.

Other things.

Happy Valentine weekend, friends.

Finding My Girly

I spent a lot of time in Vegas walking up and down the strip, hanging out in casinos, and blowing a little bit of cash (seriously, a very little bit). On my walks I saw a lot of beautiful women dressed very fashionably. I felt out of place even when wearing my "dressy" clothes (the ONE "dressy" outfit I brought). I realized that since well before Drue was born, I haven't done much to care for my appearance. I haven't worn makeup at all; I wear my glasses daily; and I pretty much always stick with ratty old pants and nine-year-old shirts. Before I go on, let me just say:

1. I love not wearing makeup and the fact that it usually takes me fifteen minutes to get from bed to door. I do not think women need to wear makeup all the time.

2. I love glasses and have worn mine daily for months; and my husband has worn them daily since I met him.

3. Pants and tops are great. Go for it. I wear them all the time.

But I think it's time to start trying again. I know that C would like it if I wore a skirt now and then, wore makeup now and then, and generally cared about my appearance now and then. :) I think I would like it too. Actually I know I would, because yesterday when I was getting ready to take Drue to the mall for our weekly playdate (hate that word), I was getting ready and threw my hair back in a ponytail, put on some ripped jeans, sneakers, and an oversized shirt that really I should only wear when I'm pregnant. I looked in the mirror and saw what I see every day but thought, Wait a minute. Drue's not up yet; I've got at least fifteen minutes until she is. Why don't I put on something nice, throw on a little makeup, and put contacts on my eyeballs? It won't take long, and my hair is clean enough that I don't HAVE to put it back. Let's do this!

And I did. And it's funny... At first, at the mall, I thought people were looking at me because I looked stupid. Surely, I thought, everyone knows I'm just not girly, so why am I trying to be? I look stupid in makeup and have too much on. (Really I didn't at all; I had barely any on.) I was wearing a dress and had my hair pinned halfway back and just felt foolish. But then I saw myself in the reflection of a store window and thought I didn't look half bad, and it struck me: First, people are NOT looking at me; how self-centered AM I? And second, if they are looking at me, maybe it's because I look good, not bad.

From that moment on I felt really confident. Until, on the way home, I spilled a soda down the front of my dress, but that's another story. I went home and put Drue down and spent her naptime going through my closet and reorganizing - and rediscovering - my clothes. I have a good number of cute skirts, and my nice jeans actually fit. I have some really cute tops in there. Now all I have to do is shine my black boots, because today I got some new makeup and a new black cardigan from Gap (with a gift card) and a little casual dress from Old Navy, and I feel like a new me. (Hyperbole.) I even did my hair in a new style this morning - something I NEVER do. So what's an extra fifteen minutes now and then?

I think I've found my girly.

Simple Pleasures

My old work colleague and friend, Emily Mo, posted something about the things in life that make her happiest. I thought that was a swell idea, so here are the things that these days bring the most joy into my heart...

When I see God at work in ours or others' lives.

Listening to good music.

Watching '90s television shows with my husband after a long day.

Good-sleep nights.

Drue giving me a smooch or laughing, or basically doing anything at all.

Reading a good book.

Yummy coffee in the morning.

Going through food magazines and cutting out recipes.

Cooking.

Saturday morning jam sessions.

Small groups.

Eating cookies

And of course, the very cliche but very real, spending time with friends. I'm an extrovert, y'all.

Bright Lights, Big City

"Bright lights, big city" is what we say to our Drue when she wakes up from a nap or in the morning and squints her eyes in the new light. It's probably the cutest thing ever. But really: Bright Lights, Big City above is in reference to our trip to Vegas, baby, yeah...


My husband the rock god...outside Caesar's Palace. Maybe my favorite hotel and casino. I know it's one of the older hotels (or am guessing it is), but it is awesome. Plus, Bette Midler performed her last show their our last night there. How cool is that? (We didn't attend; way too expensive; but I hold a special place in my heart for "Wind Beneath My Wings," and all you naysayers can just put a plug in it!)


Awaiting the aforementioned "spinach and artichoke" dip. I was so hungry...and then so depressed. But that all changed when...


These "Fancy" Joes hit me the following night at Encore's Society Cafe. A very yummy twist on American cuisine, in a very posh hotel.


That's Donny and Marie in the background. The Flamingo should be the next to go after Circus Circus and The Riviera. Or are these three too "staple" to go? It's just so gross sitting there next to Caesar's and the Bellagio with its dirtiness and pinkness, etc.


Me in Paris. I played my first poker table here and lasted ten whole minutes. Impressed?

Bright Lights, Big City (Take Two)

A room worth crying for?


We went to Vegas for the buffets. Especially the seafood buffet at Mandalay Bay.


My male model husband.


Our fancy dinner out.


The first time we saw the fountains at Bellagio, the music accompanying the show was L-A-M-E. The second and third times: it was one of those things where the music playing makes you feel really cool. Tell me you know what I mean. Everyone walking by has to feel cool when "Luck Be a Lady" or "Viva Las Vegas" is playing and they're standing outside the Bellagio, don't they? Maybe cool is the wrong word...???

All in all, we had a great time. We walked a lot. My hip flexors hurt a lot. My knees ached a lot. I loved having zero responsibility a lot. And now I get to see my baby again a lot. All is well.

Good morning from Las Vegas!

We arrived yesterday morning. The city hadn't woken up yet. We walked into our hotel, The Rivera, and all the signs at Check-In were turned to Check Out, since nobody checks into a hotel at ten o'clock in the morning. We'd been up since 4:40 a.m. and were pretty tired but had had enough coffee over the course of the morning to keep us from sleeping. So we went to our room, ready to drop our stuff and head back out for a bit. I love hotels. They have king-sized beds and fluffy pillows and cable TV. I was psyched to find out where we'd be staying for the next four nights...

The room was AWFUL. I won't even go into detail (because I don't want to remember it), but I'll say: I cried. Yes, I cried. I didn't want to stay there AND be missing my baby for five days. No way. I asked C if he'd call the front desk and ask how canceling a reservation works (how much money we'd lose). I really wanted to go somewhere else.

He was kind enough to call and ask, and the woman on the phone told him, he hung up, then she called right back and said, Why don't you come downstairs and talk to Vera. I'm sure there's something we can do to make you a little happier.

My spirits perked. I was feeling a little guilty for not liking our room. Surely I could just ask for a few extra pillows and more bed sheets and deal. How snobby am I?! But still, I was so happy...though hesitant to believe the rooms in the hotel could get much better.

Long story semi-short, they did. Vera was as kind as can be and got us a new (recently remodeled) room for the same price, and when we arrived in the room, she called immediately and asked how we were or if they needed to upgrade us even more. I said no. "Thank you so much. This is marvelous." And it is. Snooty, spoiled Meghan got her fluffy king-sized bed with fluffy pillows and a flat-screen TV, AND a view of Trump Tower and the mountains. (Don't really care about the TT bit.)

So we settled in and went downstairs to find something to eat. We ended up playing our first slot machine together and won zero monies (but only put in one dollar). Then we went outside, where it was raining, walked across the street, and went to Circus Circus. We're in the "old" part of the strip; just down the street are the bigger, newer hotels. I'd always wanted to go into CC when I was a kid, but my parents said no, so I thought: let's do it now. It's probably just as grossish as our hotel, and we'll probably not go back again, so let's go have lunch at Circus Circus. And we did. And it was gross. :) But we'd eaten at a decent price and were ready to go back to our hotel and have a nap.

Of course, by that point I'd already called my folks to check on Drue at least three times. She's doing great, btw. Loving spending time with her grandparents. They have such a cozy home; I can't imagine her NOT enjoying herself tremendously there, even at eight months.

After a quick nap, we played a game of Arkham Horror in our room then decided to hit the town!

I would like to take a break here and note that pictures are forthcoming. They won't send from my phone to my email currently, but as soon as they do, they'll be posted! Not that they're much to look at.

As we were walking down the strip and were thankful we were wearing our tennis shoes, we talked about C.S. Lewis and his idea about hell being (to those of you who know all about this and realize I'm communicating it incorrectly, please give me a little grace here) noise...or that noise is something that works to keep us from God. We realized that we were in the midst of a lot of noise, nothing but noise. C brought up the scene in Never Ending Story (is that the right movie?) where the kid (girl?) is in a trash heap, and the witch is trying to distract her with noise. "Here, look your dolly. Oooooh, look at pretty such and such," etc. Man, I remember being scared so badly by that scene, and so I was scared when - and honestly a little peeved that - he brought it up. (I got over it.) It was a good conversation. And nice to be alone together, though I miss Drue something fierce. All this to say, I'm glad we're just visiting.

We went to the Bellagio and to Caesar's Palace, which is crazy cool (and Bette Midler is performing her last week of shows there, so all the older folks were out in droves to see her and wearing black and fur). We spent way to much money on two drinks each then made our way back to the Riviera, where we decided to eat something. So we went to the best restaurant in the hotel and ordered spinach and artichoke dip. We couldn't wait to devour it. Then it arrived, and it was this: whipped heavy whipping cream with a few vegetables. Three bites of that would've been enough for anyone, so no real dinner for us. But lots of CREAM.

This morning C's at his conference, so I just buffeted alone and am waiting a bit for the city to wake up so I can go shopping (and not buy anything). It's sunny today with a high of 59. Very nice. For breakfast I drank lots of coffee and ate: two mini waffles, eggs with peppers and ham, one biscuit and gravy, a slice of honeydew melon, and a few bites of "Mexican breakfast" (steak, potatoes, and corned beef hash). I am stuffed to the gills, but we're running low on funds, and so I know I probably won't eat again until dinner; that is, of course, unless I win big on video poker. Nickel slots, here I come!

Tales from the Kitchen

I attempted Kirsten's Beef Burgundy last week, and it was a hit, though better three days after the fact. Things I learned:

1) cook the bacon until it is ALL crispy
2) salt the beef a little more
3) maybe use a touch more soy sauce

I would include a picture, but the only one I snapped didn't turn out well. My favorite part about cooking lately is cooking with wine. It makes everything taste so good and rich. I have a recipe to try later this week that involves white wine. And the best part is, you buy the cheap stuff!

I've also been enjoying my Flat Belly Diet cookbook of late. I'm not following the diet, and I'm not technically on a diet, though I pretty much always count my calories, but that's another story. Most recently C and I have come to enjoy: Chick Pea Curry with Cashews. Ooooooh, man.



Throw a dollop of Greek yogurt on a bowl full of THAT, and I'm a happy camper.

Tonight I baked homemade pizza for the first time. It was a recipe from Cooking Light, and in true Becky fashion (she's really inspired me), I modified the recipe. Instead of cumin and paprika, I used half curry/half chili powder and three quarters paprika/one quarter ground red pepper. Then, for the dough, I used mostly wheat flour and separated it into seven yummy personal pizzas instead of eight. The dough is INCREDIBLE. I also used Mozzarella instead of some other crazy cheese, though I'm sure the crazy cheese was better; I just didn't have time to get to Forward Foods.

Next time I'll probably process the diced tomatoes before simmering them. That or I'll find a way to crimp the sides of the dough so that the saucy part of the sauce doesn't fall off the pizza. Maybe corn starch? Anyway, here they are!

The Cutest Baby in the World, Subjectively Speaking

I'm getting ahead at work since we're heading out of town at the end of this month. I've been too busy to blog, but here are a few recent photos of the Drueb and updates:

1) Drue is CRAWLING!
2) And I'm pretty sure she said the word cat.
3) I am loving the Efficency Fitness workout.
4) A FAVORITE Tate author is now on Twitter, per my advice. Go, Heath!
5) We are driving to Dallas tomorrow to see Bruce.

I shall post a more meaningful something soon (something regarding our favorite new meal and my most recent go at "high cooking"). In the meantime, check out these very meaningful pictures.

The Sound of Nostalgia

We were given a 40th Anniversary Sound of Music DVD for Christmas. The gift was for Drue, but I've been enjoying it. The Sound of Music was the first movie my dad ever recorded on TV, and so I watched it all the time. The thing about The Sound of Music is that seemingly everyone loves it, and if they don't: they at least have a story about it. My story is that my dad recorded it first and so I watched it. My story might also be that it was the first kiss I ever saw on television, maybe ever in my life (that I noticed). Oh, and I might also note that "Climb Every Mountain" was my favorite song for a time. I'm interested to know your Sound of Music story.

I only realized when watching this time around that the TV version I'd always watched was missing a lot. (Thank goodness they edited out a lot of the original Police Academy; I would have been scarred for life had they not, but that's a different story.) Anyway, I'm just rambling. So now, for your viewing pleasure...

Peek-a-Do!

I always thought the game Peek-a-Boo was boring. Why do people do that with their children? I thought, judging them mercilessly.

Well, I get it.

I get the reason for it. I get why it is fun. I do it all the time. I even have a peek-a-boo book that I like to read with Drue.

It takes actually being a parent to get a lot of the things I didn't get before.

Thank you, God, for this beautiful, learning little creature...


PEEK-A-BOO! (That's Uncle Michael.)

Oscar the Calf

I'm editing a book this morning that is a study of the book of Malachi. The author has used passages in Malachi to address certain issues that the larger church doesn't seem to be getting today. It's written by a reformed minister and deals with such issues as (surprise!) predestination, marriage, and now idolatry.

So I'm thinking, regarding yesterday's post: Do I throw around the word idol too loosely? Idols are something that should be put to death. They are scary. In yesterday's post I wrote about an idol of mine, but I didn't make it clear how much I desire to put that idol to death. So I'm saying it now...and continuing to think about idols.

Do we have a healthy enough fear of the idols in our lives, or do we easily forget what a big deal they are and just say, "I have this or that idol" as if it's nothing? I fear I'm in the latter category, heading toward the former...

I find it interesting that Webster's defines the word idol as: "anything on which we set our affections: That to which we indulge in excessive and sinful attachment."

To be liked or not to be liked: that is the idol.

I have an idol. I have more than one idol, but the idol I'm thinking about right now involves whether everyone on the face of the planet likes me.

Now, I care about this less than I once did. I recently advised a friend not to worry whether the man she's interested in's ex-girlfriend likes her. Who cares? I said while flicking my hand. You're not obligated to be friends with her; she's not obligated to like you.

Hypocrite.

Today when my husband said, "Not everyone is going to like you," I was faced with the tough reminder that: 1) this is true; and 2) I do still care - because I got sick to my stomach.

Let me say: I'm not delusional. I know that not EVERYONE is going to like me all the time. That's impossible. I don't even like me all the time. What bothered me about what he said is that he was referring to people whom I know and with whom I am friends.

Do people I know not like me? I thought. Probably. Ouch. Do they like me in general but sometimes not? Surely. Still ouch. But this is a truth that I need to get used to, just as I've gotten used to the fact that it's okay that my husband sometimes doesn't like me. Because he always loves me. I can't find my rest in whether so-and-so likes me. I can only find rest in the one who gives me true peace and rest.

My husband.

I'M KIDDING! To all of you who just gasped and had already opened a new window to compose an email that communicates to me just why that is so very wrong.

I still want everyone to like me...all the time. But hopefully this "need" will lessen now that I'm made even more aware of it. I suppose I can get used to my best friends not liking me now and then. After all, this has always been the case; I just hadn't thought about it much before.

The Story

Little girls with names like Amity and Hailey and Reagan are sinners. And they don’t know that their names, which afford them instant popularity so long as they’re not fat, add to a level of inherent evilness. How can a name like Bunny not flip a little girl’s evil switch?

I don’t have one of these names. I have a name like Sarah or Lisa or Lenora. And I also didn’t have Guess jeans with a zipper running down the ankle or a ten-speed bicycle. I had a banana-seat bicycle with pictures of bananas on it—bananas and apples and oranges. It was blue. The bike had shiny silver handles that started at seat level and rose up about a foot before curving out into very wide grippers. “Here I come on my nerdy bicycle!” they proclaimed. Only I’d gone one step further and attached streamers to the handles, which made me even more of a target to the Peppers of the elementary school social sphere.

At the time, I’d already had my shoes removed from my feet and thrown into the muddy sinkhole on the playground. I’d already been embarrassed to tears by Jenny, who took my arm and strutted me past Jason, my heartthrob, while batting her eyes at him and then me and chanting, “Guess who has a crush on you?” I’d already been called out for cheating on a test that I wasn’t cheating on—Cherry was. So should I have known better when two of the most popular girls in my class came up to me one day and said they wanted to ride bikes home with me after school? Maybe. Instead, my heart pounded and I said excitedly, “Sure!”

I was finally going to fit in.

“Great! We’ll meet you at the bike rack after school,” they said.

Great.

It was all I could do not to run to the bike rack after school. And there they were, their bouncing curls bouncier than ever, their smiling faces smiling at me sinisterly, and maybe part of me knew it. But more likely than not, that’s just hindsight bias. We only made it halfway down the fence that bordered the school play yard before they looked at each other and took off, leaving me alone on my banana seat. At first I pedaled as fast I could to catch up. I thought it was a game. Then I knew. It wasn’t a game. I was a loser. A chubby, nerdy loser, who was never going to fit in and was never going to have the things the other girls had so that she could fit in. I road home crying.

Mom wasn’t yet working in those days, and so when I got home, she was in the backyard in the strawberry patch picking strawberries. I remember wanting to make sure I was crying when I got to her. I was going to make myself cry if I had to; I needed someone’s affection that badly. But it wasn’t difficult. I bawled before I got one word out. And Mom was sad for me, I think. I don’t remember what she said. But I do remember her wondering why I wanted to play with those girls days after they’d done that to me. She let me go but didn’t understand.

The thing is: I always come back to this story. Every time I sit down to write about my past, this is the story I start with. It’s like I can’t get past it. Every time I think about being hurt as a girl, this is the story I remember first. I’m realizing how utterly heartbreaking this was for me. I wonder what it means, if anything. I wonder where those girls are now. I wonder if they have little girls. I bet they’re sinners. That’s a joke. I know they are, because I am too, and so is my daughter. But I pray that she never treats another peer that way. I pray that she loves her neighbor as well as her enemy, and that she talks to me when she’s hurting. I don’t look forward to her crying. I don’t like it now. But crying is good…

My Blog Has A New Name

Probably because I haven't blogged about my job in while but have blogged about my newest addition: Drue.

She's almost six months now and sort of sleeping through the night. She wakes up so that we'll give her, her pacifier, but then she goes right back down. But enough about her sleeping habits, for goodness' sake. Why do I always go back to that?

I am having trouble typing today. For the rest of this post I will type as I have been all day and not go back through and edit. Here goes...

I"m editin ga book for a guy in Maryland. He's payign well. This is freelance work. I've almost transcribed the entire book.

I need to get to work, so relaly this post is nothing, except to show you that I cnnot type dtoday wihtou making a million zillion typos. Aughhhh!!!!

Redundant Much?

I didn't realize I blogged about napping in my last post. Oops. Sorry to bore the few of you who read my blog with the same topic (sort of).

Do you know what I love right now? Knee socks on my baby. You're supposed to fold the little socks over when you put them on, but I just yank 'em right up, all the way to the knee. Yep. Gooood lookin.

Little Bear, Little Bear, How You Snooze

Naps. I love them. I wish I, myself could take them. I try, but I can't. Well, every couple/few weeks I get a good one in, but other than that, I just lie there, get annoyed, and get back up again. But the Bear? Oh, she naps. Unfortunately, we've gotten in the habit of appeasing the 45-minute intruder (going in and patting her and giving her a binky), so that means we have to visit her at least once (and in the afternoon at least twice) during her naptime. I keep wondering whether we need to break her of this. (We also haven't yet forced her to sleep through the night. She gets one meal in some time during the wee hours.) (Thoughts?) But she's such a good sleeper. Thank God. She goes right back down (most days) and sleeps until she's supposed to, according to the schedule I've created for us.

When I think about having a second child, I wonder: Will he or she sleep as well as Drue? Probably not.

Because Drue sleeps a lot. Sometimes I wonder if she's sleeping too much. I know that every kid needs something different. But this kid...

She needs like 16 hours.

I'm getting more into the swing of motherhood. I've realized the Bear does okay when we're out and about now. In fact, she's liking it more and more and does great in the Bjorn. I think she's going to be a thinker, like her dad. Her eyes are just brilliant. I see those wheels turning 24/7. Well, 8/7. Anyway, yesterday after her four o'clock meal, we went to Sam's straightaway. No hanging out at home. We just left. And yesterday evening was the first evening in at least two weeks that she didn't cry for over an hour. We came home and I put her in her exersaucer and I chopped up dinner (fruit salad!). Then we had some Mommy-Baby time, took a bath, got lotioned, and it was already time to eat again. No tears! I think I'm going to try it again today, and if it works again, try to make this four-thirtyish outing fairly routine.

Regarding other new things: She's found her falsetto, or something like it. This high pitch she couldn't emit before. She found it yesterday. I came home from work, and there she was hanging out with Daddy, cooing in this hilarious new voice. And she knew it was new, because she couldn't get enough of herself. She was actually entertaining herself. She was so proud.

She's smiling a lot more now too, and really, really trying to laugh. She'll bust a gut soon. It just won't quite squeak out right now.

It's like something new happens every day. I can't get enough of this Bear.

The Napping Game

Dear Drue: You are to stinking cute. But when you are moody, it's annoying. Please stop that. Love, Mommy

The babe has a similar routine each day. On days that I work: up with Dad, morning nap, hang with Dad; Mom comes home and puts her down and works/does something while she takes a long afternoon nap. God answered prayer today in that she slept well; I only had to go into her room a few times, and each time she settled right back down into more sleep. Yesterday was good too. But the day before that, oh, the day before that...

I've learend that if I give in during her afternoon nap crying time and pick her up: it's over. There's no hope of her going back down, and there will be a lot of screaming. But I couldn't help but pick her up two days ago. She was doing her crying thing, and I had let her "cry it out" enough; it was time to visit her; and when I walked into her room, she was pushing up and had drool running from her lip and tears pouring from her eyes and snot dripping from her button nose, and the look on her face was perhaps the saddest, tiredest, most pathetic, adorable, sad sad saddest look I've ever seen. I didn't think about the repercussions but immdiately swooped her into my arms and almost started crying myself. Poor baby.

Am I a sucker? Perhaps. Will I be a sucker? I hope not.

Lessons in What Not to Write: No. 526: "not unexpected"

I saw a tweet today that got me reeling. I am thankful it was just a tweet and not a book I'm editing. I like the person who wrote this tweet; he's a crafty guy, very good at what he does. But he could use a lesson in "writing worthiness".

Oh, twinges of hypocrisy are bubbling up. I know that very little that I write is exciting and/or worthy. Let me just say that up front. But the subject of this tweet went something like: traffic is really bad; it's not to be unexpected.

What does that sentence leave you feeling? It leaves me feeling like I just wasted time reading that sentence.

Lesson no. 1 in news writing: mans bites dog versus dog biting man. If the story isn't original, then don't write it. If your audience expects that the traffic will be bad, then they don't need to read that it was bad. And THEN be told that it is not to be unexpected. And let's not even get into the double negative issue here.

Today I published a Facebook status that admits to the world that I love to imagine myself playing lead guitar on songs that rock. I do this probably daily. Maybe a little less. Doesn't everyone do that? Anyway, that may be a stupid post; that may be something that no one wants to read; but at least it's not cheating the reader. It's giving them new news.

So, tell us something new, something truly unexpected. Make us feel. The purpose of even Twitter shouldn't be to ALONE write things like: went to the gym; went to the store; went to the gym again; played some golf; wow, it's hot; traffic is bad, but who the hell thought it wouldn't be? etc.

Or maybe that is it's purpose.

Hello!

Well, the first sentence of my last blog is incorrect. My identity isn't new; it has only been added to.

I love this baby more each day. It's quite a ride. I still don't mind getting up nights, mostly because I only have to do it once now, though we're having to sort of work toward the "once." Meaning, when she wakes up at 1:30, I have to go in and pat her and put in her pacifier, then go back to bed and wait to see if she'll cry and I need to do it again...until I actually feed her at 3:00. But I think she'll start sleeping until 3:00ish without assistance soon.

I was freaking out about her schedule last week but am feeling much better, thanks to the many friends who sent me messages on FB about the topic and the husband who is more understanding than I at times deserve. Right now we're doing a morning nap and a longer afternoon nap, and she's pretty much given up a full evening nap, though she likes to doze here and there before 7:00. A bedtime routine is forming. But most importantly, I'm learning to have an open hand with it all. There are days when the "schedule" just isn't going to work "perfectly," and that's okay. Thank God.

I made it through my first month back to work, which feels great. I look forward to one book in particular next month.

I Am a Mother

My identity has changed.

I've had some baby blues, but last night I had a breakthrough. I realized how bonded I'd become with the baby when I tried to feed her a bottle at 11 p.m. and wanted to cry. Let's be honest: did cry.

There's nothing wrong with bottles or formula. This is just my experience.

I also realized how much I love my baby when I went to Target to pick up some diapers and smelled them, and a huge smile crossed my face and I wanted to rush home to her.

I'm also starting to get used to being up nights. It's difficult but truly getting easier - something I hadn't thought about. I don't know why, but I honestly didn't think that this could get "normal." Thank God it does. Of course, I'm talking about one night here. We'll see if I'm spewing the same come tomorrow and the next day.

Collin has been great about bearing the load with me. We're lucky in that he doesn't have an eight-to-five, in-office job, and I have the month off, so now that I can drive, he makes sure I can get out a little. I was freaking out about him leaving during the day at first (mostly because I want to be selfish and NOT tied to my house and live the life I lived before, free as a bird), but a dear friend reminded me that who I am a wife and mother is probably much more sane than who I would be (and have been) without.

Anyway, here is our little Drue bear.


I sang "Jesus, Lover of My Soul" to her the other day while she was settling down, and I realized how much she depends on us, as we are to depend on Jesus. What a beautiful picture painted before me. Unfortunately, I forget it all too often and think I'm doing this all alone. Thank God I'm not. And thank God she's not.

"Other refuge have I none
I helpless hang on thee
Leave, oh, leave me not alone
Support and comfort me
All my trust on thee is stayed
All help from thee I bring
Cover my defensless head
In the shadow of thy wing."

Let's be honest: I had trouble not boo-hooing through this verse.

In a change of subject...
I never thought I'd have to have a c-section, especially for such a tiny thing. I took the tape off my incision today. Strange to think that's where she finally came from - after a labor to remember. I'd go back and do it again in a heartbeat.

Still getting used to this mother thing though.

"They float down here. And when you're down here, you'll float too!"

I finished Jodi Picoult's The Pact this morning. I don't know what I think about the ending. The whole book was depressing. Parents who don't know their kids; kids who don't know who they are. It was well written and compelling, as usual; she's one of those who can break rules and it's OK. But the ending. Was it too quick? I like that she ended with the climax and wrapped up in an epilogue, but I felt there was one bit of information lacking.

I don't want to ruin this book for anyone, so that's all I'll say, but if you've read The Pact, did you think there was at least one bit of information lacking in the epilogue, or did you love how it was done?

My husband is finally conquering his fear of Stephen King's It. He's been afraid of the story, or the Pennywise the clown, since the movie came out on TV in 1990. He's on page 753 of the book now and loving it, which is validating to me, as it's one of my favorite books.

I would love it if he started reading fiction regularly. He's already a great idea man and has been helping me with my novel a bit (although sometimes I have to tell him to save it; the plot is the plot, and these other fantastic ideas can go into other stories), and I think his reading fiction will make for some fun conversation. Not as though we don't already have great conversation, but how cool would it be to talk about psychology, research, AND story, among other things, of course.

4:54 p.m. + 7 working days

Just finished an incredibly sad and moving story about an American nurse working in Saudi Arabia. Remind me to tell you about it.

In other news: just finished the backmatter for an incredibly sad and moving story about an American nurse working in Saudi Arabia. Remind me to tell you how to get a copy of the book once it releases.

And finally: the book does has some non-sadness about it.

Awry in Arabia by Mary D. Kavanwal

Psycho Editor is Unable to See Beyond Technicalities, Becomes Depressed

I've noticed that I often get so caught up in structure that I forget character - that, to me, structure trumps character. But this seems crazy. Could this be true?

When I've asked job candidates the question, "What makes or breaks a (fiction) book for you?" nine times out of ten the candidate's answer has been "character." And nine times out of ten I have snickered and thought, How cliche. Do you really know what you mean by that?

But the truth is: character is a fine answer. Often times whether I've liked or cared about a character was the reason I kept reading a book and didn't throw it across the room. So why do I have such trouble digging into this area when I'm editing a book? Why is it always: plot structure, holes, story questions, plates, stimulus-response, dialogue tags, etc.?

Probably because these are the things I studied in grad school. But also because these are simply the things that stick out to me.

Last month, however, I felt I did at least one of my authors a disservice by not talking character and focusing on other, what I thought were, larger issues. And maybe they were larger issues, but regardless of whether this author goes back and fixes all of her dialogue and answers or doesn't answer certain story questions, there is still the issue of, Do I really know and love these characters? What could she do to make me care about them more?

It's not as I don't have pages and pages of knowledge on this stored away as well. I just seldom bring it up. Ugh.

This month: I focus on character. I see what happens. I dig deeper. I don't forget about the rules, but I am honest about how I feel about the characters in the books I'm editing and whether they really impact the reader.

This month: I get back to work on my novel.

This month: I have a baby.

This month: Angela and I make this magazine happen.

And then I don't sleep for a while, because hey, it's May. I can't believe it's already May. I had a big realization when I left work Thursday that today it would be May. And months go fast. And at the end of this month comes new life. Whoa.

A Follow Up

BACK TO HUMOROUS CREATIVE NON-FICTION:

A writer friend asked what I ended up sharing with the author whose memoir I edited and posted on earlier this month.

Had I given the book more time before posting I would have seen that there were moments of depth in the story and ultimatley a well-contructed story with a clear story arc. I spent most of my notes discussing story structure, tense, and the inclusion of a second voice. However, there was also something to be said about the at-times too intense humor toward the beginning of the book.

So I addressed where the author was pushing it; where hyperbole was too obvious; where humor could have worked better if focused differently (e.g.,not just on sex; that gets boring, is too easy, and can exude an image the author doesn't want to portray). That's not to say I don't appreciate both brokenness and redemption. I do. I read mainstream women's fiction and get a kick out of the crass humor at times. But there's no denying it can be a little...bleh. Have you SEEN SNL lately?

It was a good read, and I'm excited to look over the polished product next month.

An Awakening of the Mind

A fellow editor and I were walking back to our computers after a nice walk to Homeland, and she asked, "Bruce Springsteen or Huey Lewis?" I had to go with Huey Lewis. I don't know much Springsteen but grew up with The News. Then she said, "Huey Lewis or Billy Joel?" I had to go with Billy Joel. Then somehow Phil Collins came up, and she said, "He beats 'em all!"

I realized that growing up I thought that every Phil Collins song I heard on the radio was just a Phil Collins song. I knew of a band called Gensis, didn't I? But weren't they just a side project for Phil Collins for some short period of time?

Well, no. Duh.

I then realized that I now knew that Genesis was something bigger than I'd always suspected, but that I'd still never learned much about the band. So, I finally took to Wikipedia tonight and learned about Genesis, and whoa...what a project. I had no idea. Basically every Phil Collins song I ever loved growing up (aside from "In the Air Tonight" and "Sussudio" and the song about the homeless lady) was indeed a product of Genesis. Even less did I know that Peter Gabriel (holy cow) was the original singer of this band.

I am now up to speed on Genesis, at age 30.

"If you didn't do some crying while writing this book, then the book's not done."

QUESTION: Can a person write his or her autobiography or memoir (there is a distinct difference) without crying at some point?

I'm editing a memoir right now that is very well done. There are some issues to be addressed, sure. But they're all very common and easy fixes (so far), except for one...

The author is good at humor. This is a skill. This is great. I read the Table of Contents and laughed. That was good.

Yes, there are moments that the humor can be cut, when it is forced or the hyperbole is too obvious. No problem. But this is a story about brokenness and disfunction. It is the story of a mother, daughter, and daughter's daughter trio. There are some really sad truths behind the humor, and sometimes I want to cry instead of laugh, but I can't, because the author won't let me. She forces me to laugh.

Is this good? Is it okay? Will readers feel cheated, or am I just an emotional basketcase who enjoys crying too much?

I've written some of my own story, and there was a lot of crying involved in that endeavor. Perhaps I didn't see enough humor in it as I was writing; there's definitely humor there; but that wasn't the purpose of the exercise, so maybe what I'm really doing here is asking this author to do what I did. Maybe I'm being too subjective.

In conclusion, because I'm clearly failing to pull my thoughts together: I'm going to think through these things and find a cohesive way to express them to the author. Currently my note reads: "Your reader wants to feel like you’re telling the truth more often. If you didn’t do some crying while writing this book, then the book’s not done. Some of the harsh reality needs to come through; I think a person who picks up this book doesn’t want just a humor book. And a book that makes you laugh AND cry will make you all the more marketable."

Still thinking...

(Also, in case you were wondering, that's only a snippet of my thoughts-note.)

A Trip Down Memory Lane

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8myK93FqbYc

My grandmother loved the Mills Brothers. We used to listen to their tapes in her car, and so I loved them too.

I was in an after-school program for a short time in the fifth grade, and the lady who ran the program created an Olympics event that included who could jump rope the longest, etc. One of the competitions was a dance competition. The rules were: you choreograph the dance (the first time I'd heard the word choreograph) and you choose the song. Only the song couldn't be longer than two minutes.

The movie Dirty Dancing had just come on the scene, and "I've Had the Time of My Life" had hit the radio waves big time. There were I think three of us who entered the dance competition: myself, Julie H., and Amanda R. The OBVIOUS choice was to go with "I've Had the Time of My Life," but I wanted to be original. I went with the Mills Brothers' "Opus One." Oh yeah.

So, the big day comes, and Amanda and Julie go up to do their self-choreographed dances, but the opener to the song "I've Had the Time of My Life," you'll remember, is rather long and BORING. Let's have a refresher, shall we?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RH0lEVMuzzw

You'll notice that by the time the ticker hits two minutes, we're barely into the dance-worthy part of the song. (Please note I'm being sarcastic. I realize one can dance to the beginning portion of that song with much feeling and grace. However, I remember one of my competitors spent almost a full minute lying on the ground before rising in an "I've just woken up" sort of way, etc. We were in the fifth grade!)

Cut to: Meghan runs out to her starting position and busts a dance to "Opus One," a two-minute (almost exactly) song that nobody expects!

Looking back, I'm sure that all of the kids my age were laughing at me and making fun of me behind my back. "What a GEEK!" But the lady who ran the program: she loved it. I took home the cardboard gold medal. And I think I won the silver in jump roping.

All this to say, thanks Kylie for randomly getting "Glow Worm" stuck in your head today and boldly sharing with two bewildered co-workers. This has been a fun trip down memory lane.

"I can't kill anything that tickles me, Hank."

Just before I got married I started watching King of the Hill on DVD. I'd watched it on Fox when I had basic cable and lived alone. When I moved in with my friends, I no longer had cable but needed to get my KOTH fix, so I started buying it. I started with season three then got seasons six and five as gifts. After we were married, I went through a phase of watching KOTH pretty much constantly (still no cable). One day my husband had had enough. He turned off the show that was playing while I washed dishes, put it in its case, and took every case of KOTH sitting around the living room and put it away.

Maybe it was just the fact that the discs were no longer readily available. Maybe I was actually tired of them and didn't realize it until he put them away. Maybe I was just taking the hint and giving him a break. But I stopped watching King of the Hill that day and haven't regularly pulled it out of its hiding place since.

Today I did. And I love it.

Feet

I'm having to get up from my desk more frequently now. My feet feel burny and swollen.

P.S. I just left this up on my desktop and was going to go for a short walk around the facility when I ran into some acquisitions reps, one of whom, after a short conversation about having to get up and walk around quite a bit (prompted by the question: how are you feeling?) loaned me her footstool! I'm using it now. It is wonderful (sigh of relief).

Drue Alison Barnes

We had a third ultrasound today. The doc wanted to check her kidneys. Turns out everything has matured well, and things look great. And we got this great profile picture out of it!

Found a crib and dresser/changing table. Ecstatic. This is starting to feel very real.

Iiiiiiiit's FRIDAY!

Listening to: Silence.

Accomplished today:

Team meeting. Fielded general questions, mostly involving what to do when a book has gone to layout and the author sends new info, like endorsements. Everyone has a book he/she is really excited about this month. I must admit, I'm a bit jealous that Angela picked up the Solomon's wife story, but I've got two fine books to tackle, so I'm good. Very good.

Edited. Worked on a fantasy story today. Mostly honing in on dialogue tags, as the story is very well put together. Possible problem in sleeping patterns. The author might be married to the day-by-day approach, but I've just started so we'll see.

Book club. Working through and discussing Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen. We read a couple of really dark chapters this week. Trying to figure out August's motivation and whether I really think the protagonist is male. (I know he is; I just can't get over the fact that it took me quite a few pages to realize he was.)

Grammar meeting. Learned something new about implied subjects and when a comma is necessary in a sentence such as, "Now, go ahead and open the book, and turn to page four." Because the subject, you, is implied for both clauses but is nowhere to be found in the sentence, the comma separating the two is acceptable, correct even. Except in this case I'd argue it is not necessary because the second clause is so short. If the sentence were to read, "Now, let's go ahead and open the book and turn to page four," no comma is necessary because the subject, us, is there, and both verbs refer back to it. But enough about that.

Magazine brainstorm. Indeed this magazine idea is starting to come to life. We're this close to settling on a name, which will help focus our communication and really let us figure out where we're going with the mag. I like the team we've put together and can't wait to see what kind of logos KP comes up with once we settle on a name. Being able to visualize it a bit better will work wonders.

Editing. Well, blogging. As soon as I hit Post, editing. Then home. Then Red Lobster. I haven't been there in years. All I remember is waiting for a table for a REALLY long time. Let's hope that isn't the case tonight.

On a personal note: Husband is sick. Baby is kicking. Stomach is rumblig. Feet are swollen. I can't wait to see dear friends tomorrow and Sunday. How I love the weekend.

Grace and Peace.

Green March

Starting a new batch of books and loving every minute of it. I have a younger author this month. He's publishing his first with us, and I'm thrilled to have been assigned the book. I think we'll make a good team. He seems to have a solid understanding of what an editor and writer do, how they relate and work together. I've already got some good feedback for him and can't wait to see how this book grows. Not a bad start to a new month.

In other news: baby is growing. She now has a middle name: Alison. I'm scared to death one minute and ecstatic the next. I can't wait to gut my house in preparation and am counting down the minutes to the allotted time to do so.

I never believed "nesting" was real. It is.

Quickly!

REPORT: Started writing up a handout on viewpoint today. Did not come close to finishing.

I have a lot to accomplish in the next two weeks.

WRITE UP TWO BACKMATTERS
FINISH NOTES ON 1 MS
FINISH VP HANDOUT AND SEND TO TEAM
FINISH TIM CALLAHAN'S DARK DAYS IN MORGAN COUNTY
WRITE RADIO SHOW (BREAKTHROUGH) X2
REVIEW TEAM'S BACKMATTER AND CAFs
OTHER STUFF

We're going to Dallas tomorrow. Should be interesting.

Notes

ACCOMPLISHED TODAY: research; almost finished editing "take charge of your kitchen and still have a life" cook book, love it; reviewed children's backmatter; no meetings, if you can believe it.

We have a team meeting next Friday to discuss point of view. As I mentioned, it's been on my mind. I pulled out pages of old notes on the subject today. Can't wait to go back over them. I was searching through my notes because I was looking for notes on subplot and resolution. Here are a few of the ideas that came to mind:

dominant impression - every major character needs one, lest they all look/sound/feel the same

plates - these are small questions you toss up throughout the story to keep the reader engaged/worried/questioning; the key is that they all must be answered; it's the classic "gun on the mantel" issue - if there's a gun on the mantel, it's got to be used at some point; all plates should be resolved before the story climax.

subplots - these are fantastic; just make sure the reader doesn't become confused as to which is the main plotline; the first subplot usually has to do with the protagonist's inner struggle; there's usually another that the antagonist is "in charge" of; subplots should also be resolved before the story climax.

more on general story resolution and open-ended questions later...

attitude is everything

need to: write thank you notes; pray more for loved ones, colleagues, and authors; read for book club; think more before responding; not concern myself so much with what was said after responding; stop eating so much sugar; register for baby stuff

thankful for: community, honesty, and openness; girlfriends; maternity clothes; my kittehs; a husband who loves me; this life in my belly

thinking about: point of view, seinfeld, how fat i'm getting, work, the future

do not like: our futon

Childhood Memories Make Meggo and Crazy Girl

In 1987 I was in the third grade. I was new to Union Public Schools and attended Darnaby Elementary. I was an instant nerd, looked down upon because I didn't own Guess jeans with zippers near the ankle. I hated the third grade.

That year there was a talent show for all grades.

Mrs. Duckworth's class (that was my class) walked single file and silently into the gymnasium and sat in one long row on the white floor. I remember we were sitting just to the right of center stage and quite a few rows back. I had no idea what was going on. I don't even know if I realized we were about to witness a talent show (which I would participate in two years later as a fifth grader, lip synching to "I'm Gonna Buy Me a Dog" by the Monkeys, and again as a sixth grader, when I sang along to a tape of Bette Midler's "Wind Beneath My Wings"). I was probably too preoccupied worrying about how all the girls in my class hated me and how in the world was I going to get them to like me?

I don't remember any of the acts but one. Two sixth grade boys - one on guitar, the other I can't remember - played and sang Yes's "Owner of a Lonely Heart."

Whatever I had previously been preoccupied with disappeared when these two started playing. I was captivated. I'd never seen live music like this. I'd heard my dad and his brothers sing barbershop quartet. I'd heard lots of live singing, sure. But I'd not seen an electric guitar in action. I'd not realized that people performed in this way. I'm afraid I didn't even know what rock music was. I knew the Beach Boys. Well, I guess since I knew the song I knew a little something about music, but I must have just heard it on my mother's radio station one day, because what my parents really listened to the Beach Boys, the Beatles, and Kenny Rogers.

Anyway, these kids, according to my memory, were amazing. They were not lip synching. They were performing "Owner of a Lonely Heart," and they were awesome...and flawless. Again, this according to my memory. But they were.

Years later I would think about that performance and wonder, Were they really singing live? I was always still pretty certain they were, but it stuck with me. The song stuck with me. Everytime I've heard it over the years, I've thought of that talent show.

Well, recently - over Christmas - I decided I might try to find out if my memory was correct. Collin and I were home for the holidays, and I pulled out my old 1987 Darnaby Rangers yearbook (the one with the Guess symbol on the cover) and looked up the sixth grade class. I knew I would recognize at least one of the boys who sang "Owner of a Lonely Heart" because I remembered he had a specific look about him.

I found him. His name was...well, maybe I shouldn't say...but I found him. Collin was there. He looked at me like I was a little crazy and said..., "Oh." (But he has to admit that he was at least a little curious too. I mean, sixth graders rocking live? Come on.) After Christmas we came back to Norman, and some days later I looked this guy up on Facebook.

No go.

At this point I realize you probably think I'm a stalker or just nuts, but you know what? I don't really care.

So, I didn't find him, and I let it go.

Then today... I thought about the song again. I don't even remember why, but I thought it couldn't hurt to try again. So, I looked him up, and someone's picture came up that fit the description.

Dare I write this guy?

Me being me, I did, really without much thought.

Well, long story short, it was him. He had played in the 1987 talent show, and he and his friend had NOT been lip synching but had played live the previously mentioned song by Yes.

I was thrilled. He was flattered. My husband is glad I have peace. End of story.

Speaking of the Beach Boys, I was talking to my mother today about nursery colors. I told her I've been thinking purples and browns and maybe some green. She asked what shades and asked whether I have a theme in mind. I told her I don't like the brightest or darkest shades of any of those colors, so I'm thinking soft, and I have no idea about a theme. I asked her, "Do you think I should do some sort of storybook theme?" She responded, "Well, you know I'm not all cutesy [nor am I, thought daughter], so I don't know. What about the Muppets? You always loved them. You could brainwash her with the Muppets like your dad did you the Beach Boys."

I laughed. "Perfect," I wrote. "How about a Muppet mural so that every time she wakes up at night and sees the wall, she is terrified?"

Mom wrote back, "So, how about these colors: Fozzy Bear brown, Kermie green, and Miss Piggy purple."

Perfect.

Axe That Prologue!

Was at dinner Sunday, and a woman across the table had just read Twin Motives, a book I edited. She loved it. I was thrilled.

My team of editors had a quick discussion last Friday about a 2,000-word piece one of my colleagues had sent around. It was the first 2,000 words of one of her mss.

What a great discussion. From 2,000 words came the topics:

When a prologue and/or epilogue is unnecessary
Viewpoint
Showing v. telling
Religiosity – when is a book over the top; how do you approach it; one way is to address character flaws as well as realistic dialogue
When a character is too perfect – what makes a good hero
Dialogue
Narrative breaks

Not only were these great topics to discuss, but I was able to see how each of my team members would have tackled the book. I was the only one who said the prologue gets the axe. And I was right.

I see more of these meetings in our team's future.

the day of the purple dress

STATUS REPORT: Tired after a long day. Looking forward to moving offices Thursday. Need to do some cleanups tomorrow lest I fall too far behind on my to-do list. Losing the light at the end of this month's tunnel but know it's there. It always is.

Worked on a long MS today. It's good. I jibe with what the authors are saying. (This is nonfiction.) However, the book is 116,000 words long and needs some serious cutting. It's not been too difficult thus far. However, I feel brain cells dying daily. This baby is making me stupid. I had a lot of trouble focusing today on what, on a normal, non-pregnant day, would have been easy thinking and reading. I would have left work rejuvinated and ready to get home to one of my side reading ventures. I love to read. Instead I left work mentally exhausted. Hopefully it was but one bad day.

Bad day nothwithstanding, I still rocked that MS.

There are few things more fulfilling than making great edits on a book and knowing the author is going to put forth the effort to take his or her book to the next level. Good writers work with their editors, trust their editors. I'm not saying I'm perfect, but I am saying that you should have a dialogue with me, and just as much as I should listen to you and care about your vision for your book, you should hear my vision and care about what I have to say. After all, I have your book's best interest in mind. We should work together to meet the objective of putting the best book we can on the market. That is what partnership publishing is all about, folks.

I love my job.

The Cliffhanger

MORNING REPORT: Team meeting to discuss issues, questions, and exciting new ideas. Went well. Topics discussed included: title length, passive voice, how soon should dialogue show up in a novel, and cliffhangers.

One of my editors asked me today, "Do you have a particular book you could show me that does a really good job of switching scenes?"

Me: ???

Then she said, "All of my authors tend to do things like write, 'And back to such-and-such,' or 'Back in Detroit...' to denote setting or scene change."

I cringed.

"That is sad," I said.

We then got into a conversation about cliffhangers, hooks, and stopping in the middle of action at the end of a chapter. This seems obvious to me, but I guess I do run across a lack of it in books at times. Fortunately, I've not had to deal with the "Back at Sarah's house, Joni was cooking dinner when..." issue.

So, how does a writer keep the reader clear when they're switching settings a lot? Well, first, is the story structured well? But then come to mind things like: they've got good characters that the reader doesn't have trouble remembering. They have good conflict. They employ the use of narrative and chapter breaks. They end their chapters with HOOKS!

I don't know how many times I've written to an author "No hook" at the end of a chapter. I've probably written this before here, but if your character is going to bed at the end of chapter two, so is your reader. What you really want is for your reader to NEED to turn that page and read chapters three and four, etc. If you stop a chapter in the middle of a question or great action and then switch to a different setting, the reader shouldn't have as much trouble finding their way back when you come back to said conflict question later.

There's obviously more to this, but these are the first few things that come to mind.

Now to editing...

Look at that foot!

Wow. What a moment. The ultrasound technician, who surely has a more professional title that I don't know, points at the screen and says, "Have any guesses?"

I knew right away. It was a girl.

"Yes. It's a girl."

Collin, from over my shoulder, practically shouts, "No way!" And tears of joy or something are running down my cheeks. I can't believe it. I'm going to be a mommy. I'm going to have a little girl.

Collin is going to be such a fantastic father, and she is going to love him so much. Her name is Drue (middle name pending). Drue Barnes. And she's a cutie pie.

The Cranberry Hook

My goal today: hit goal and don't get frustrated. Don't wear my emotions on my sleeve. This is difficult when hormones are raging. I've felt a failure the past two days, but I feel more on my game today. I am referring to staff squabbles about which I can't go into detail here.

What is today's goal? To finish this adventure book, set up a couple of interviews, and either review backmatter for the books I've finished or complete another quality control review. Word total: 28,000ish.

I'm wearing my first maternity pants today. One of the women in our church kindly graced me with a tub of clothing. She's a bit smaller than me (the pants I'm wearing today probably fit her at six months and just barely fit me at twelve weeks), shorter, but I think the clothes are going to work! And they're cute. What a money-saver and a blessing.

I made a huge cranberry salad last night with the help of my darling husband. If you enjoy cranberry salad, ask me for this recipe; it is outstanding. We're having Thanksgiving at work today. The design department, illustrators, and we editors are all getting together for food and activities at lunch. Should be keen. I hope there is some leftover cranberry salad to take home (for Collin's sake...and mine). You never know. It's always either a total hit, or the group of people you try to feed it to hate cranberries/new things. I'm telling you, this is the best cranberry recipe on the planet, and it's so simple!

And it smells good when you're making it.

Back to work. Remember: if you're working on a novel, no matter the genre, work to hook your reader at the end of each chapter. If you end the chapter with the doctor coming in the room and saying, "Oh, it looks like everything is going to be fine!" your reader will put the book down frustrated and might not pick it up again. Leave the character bleeding in the hospital bed!

Tylenol Woes

I feel like I should change the name of my blog since I haven't blogged about writing in a while. I would if I had the energy (and the whining begins). You can read at least one of my October writing blogs at: http://tatepublishingeditors.blogspot.com/

I'm lying on my couch with a pouding headache, listening to football fans shout "Boomer! Sooner!" from my not-open window (it would be so much more romantic somehow if the window were open). I hate game day traffic, but I have to admit I enjoy living this close to the stadium. I enjoy the stadium sounds. I enjoy the crowds, even though I scoff at them during the day in my scary judgmental way.

I wanted to go to the Dixons' tonight, but my headache and level of sleepy kept me from it. I am sick of being sick. I do see the light at the end of the tunnel, but it is dim. I actually threw up this week. It was the first time in over ten years that I threw up without helping myself. I don't mean to say that I've suffered bulimia. Thank God I haven't. But I have felt bad enough before that I thought physically getting sick would help, so I stuck a spoon down my throat (tmi?). This time: no spoon necessary. I was just drying my hair Tuesday morning and suddenly, oh, I'm going to toss that milk I just drank.

Since I'm having more bearable days to go along with my bad days though, I have been able to eat a better assortment of foods. For a while there it was Taco Bell grilled stuffed burritos every day. Now I can't even think about fast food without gagging. I like this particular change. What I don't like is never cooking and being so picky every day. I also can't wait to find water refreshing again.

Enough feeling sorry for myself.

I'm so excited to be back with the band. :) I started singing in church again last week and made it to practice again today. I love those guys, and I hate feeling out of the music loop. Now if only the trumpet (which is a marvelous instrument, and Wes is a genius playing it; I'm just not myself right now) would stop making me want to vomit. Soon enough!

I leave you with Halloween pics:


Collin's first jack-o-lantern. (Note the fuzzy orange precious on the left.)


You can tell who the artist is. (Hint: not me.)


My work crew. Seventeen Depps for Seventeen Editors.

P.S. I only have three books to read this month. Should make for some great edits, and I can't wait to delve in. Still, it's a short month (can't believe the holidays are here), so I'm going to have to buckle down more than usual. I'm unable to keep up with this blog the way I'd like, but (if you care) know that it's because work keeps me offline.

Crackers have become a large part of my life.

I am pregnant. I have the four tests to prove it. (Not really. They're long gone.) Why did I take four tests? Well, I've never been pregnant before, so when the second line showed, but only just barely, we weren't sure. Now, I was pretty sure. I thought, there's no way a line would show if it didn't detect this crazy hormone in my body. But hubs wasn't so sure. I don't blame him. The line was really light. Oh, and I'll never forget Collin's sound when I walked into the bathroom, looked at the test, looked at him, and paused. It was a nervous sort of chuckle-choke. And he smiled.

When I took the test the following morning, the second line was still light--but darker. Yes, darker. Still, C wasn't sure. I did some reading up online that day, and I was sure. But I just had to have his agreement. Just had to. So when he went off to work that day, I went to the store, grabbed some pre-natal vitamins and another test--this one the one that reads "preganant," "not pregnant." He was up at the lab and needed a broom, so I brought him one, along with a little stick that read "pregant." He was speechless.

Why the fourth test, you wonder, if you remember my mention of it? Well, I'm just paranoid, that's all. I took another five days later because I was feeling really cra(m)ppy and not feeling sick, like I was just sure I would feel, so blah blah blah. I'm paranoid. But I'm also pregnant.

I don't know how much I should post about this--this being my editing blog and all, but I thought I'd writing something. We'll see where it goes from there. We did talk names last night. I much have spent two and a half hours in a book of names only looking at "Boys' Names" and come up with next to nothing. Girls were a different story. We've got some "working titles." We're getting there with boys. I keep gravitating to B names though, which you'd think wouldn't work since our last name is a B name, but I love me some alliteration, and if you do it well, it can be strong.

I'm not naming my child B**** just because it's alliteration, for any sickos who really think I would.

Oh, now I really want to post about names, but I fear I would only be copying my friend Courtney, who is due oddly on the same day as (insert correct pronoun here. One thing I will say is, I think I'd like to narrow it down to two per sex. That way when the baby is born, Collin can behold him or her and decide his or her name. (Let's say it's a her.) "Ah," he will say, "she is clearly Blythe." He's good at naming that way. He saw the one pound seven ounce cat I brought home and almost immediately said, "We shall call her...Marigold." And she's lived up to her name ever since.

If marigolds are a really fat flower.

Onto editing. Tomorrow marks the end of another month. I tend to blog at the end of the month. I've decided I will not stress next month no matter how much my job begs me to. Now matter how much this computer begs me to worship it, I won't. I'm thinking dialogue. It's written on my hand--the word "dialogue." I think I'm going to whip up a sheet on this most difficult concept and start a dialogue about dialogue with my department. I promise I will post it here, for those who need their word fix. Until then, thank God for Jesus, without whom I would crumble to pieces.

Chronologicalication

I'm working on a book right now that is supposed to be a chronological study of a particular book of the Bible. Vagary!

Although the author attempts to create a chronological study, it (yes, I refuse to submit the sex of this questionable writer) fails at every turn.

The whole issue begs the question: do I have the wrong draft? Did this draft get entirely flubbed/flipped/flopped around in transmission? Perhaps this person has a computer program I've ne'er heard of.

Because it is utterly impossible that this person meant to repeat itself (there it is again) so many times, nor is is possible that this person does not see how the book is not chronological but illogical.

Unfortunatley, it is possible, because this IS the correct draft. I spoke with the author yesterday. We have work to do! But it shall be done!

"She's got some thing with her mother. It's tough."

We've recently started watching Seinfeld again. (The joys of Netflix.) I realize the show is on television every day, but seeing as we don't have any sort of basic cable in our home, I've not been inundated with reruns of Seinfeld and Scrubs and Wings (yes, Wings) and Golden Girls and whatever else is constantly on the tube these days for years. This classic, hilarious, timeless show is just as good as new to me again, and I love it.

Speaking of weird. We're still finishing up Twin Peaks.


YES!

Our dear friend Kyle says there is a subplot coming that we're going to hate. I'm on the hunt for this alleged subplot but have yet to encounter it. Bring it on, David Lynch!

As for work, we've met the end of another month, and my Friday deadline looms. I've finished all first edits and am thrilled about two books this month. One a contemporary mystery, the other a textbook about God and country. Wish I could write more, but I need to finish this episode of Seinfeld and get back to work. Perhaps one day I'll be caught up.

Oh! But first, quickly, the Olympics! The one sport I cared about more than any other: the marathon. I have to say I was heartbroken when our guys came in ninth and tenth, though that was a first for USA, which is fantastic. I really wanted Hall to place. Really. But he's only 25, so there's always 2012 (and even 2016). Strange to think that far in the future.



Think I'll go for a run. Forget television!

And as for a word of writing advice: stop capitalizing everything. Writers like to capitalize things that don't need to be capitalized. Are you one of them? My advice is: get comfortable with Chicago Manual of Style's capitalization laws. That's right, I said laws. Get comfortable wih any style guide's capitalization rules, because they are all going to tell you similarly to stop capitalizing everything. It's distracting, just like italics. And who wants to distract their reader? Not me said the editor.

Nuptials

Another month down, another to go. I just organized my email files. I have so many of them now. A lot of people hate Outlook. Perhaps I'm just uneducated, ignorant, not cool, but I like it! I have folders within folders and folders and more folders, adn they're all right there for me to easily behold and navigate.

I'm sure there is many an email program that allows one to do the same things, but I don't care. I like Outlook.

Until it crashes. What does it mean when a window pops up and says, "Would you like to auto archive your files?" Where do those files go?

Do you know, I don't really care.

I finished sending out all edits and clean ups today, and it felt great. I approved three proofs, which also felt great, and now I'm down to sending out final scores for the month and nitpicking with a handful of MSS that need to be ready for layout by the end of the working day tomorrow. I think I can get this done; however, I've got meetings upon meetings tomorrow. Four meetings? I think so, yes, four meetings.

I'm looking forward to next month, I think. We'll see how a full month with a regular workload goes. I'm hoping it will go well.

I'm "friends" with the new RUF intern on Facebook now. I can't wait to meet her!

What else, what else...

I am going to be 30 a week from TODAY. That is a strange pill to swallow.

Last night I went through a bunch of old grad school notes. Note about pieces I was writing; notes from class; actual old MSS; handouts. It was a lot of fun. I think I'll use a lot of this old work to craft conceptual notes for the editors on my team. I might also post them here. We shall see.

Not much else about the pub world today. I'm too happy to have a bit of a day of rest tomorrow. And then comes the new load Friday.

I also came across a bunch of old songs I used to play. Many of them I had written, and I didn't even remember them. I had a lot of songs in the early 2000s. I did a lot of writing. In fact, I found a bunch of "song doodles" in the class folders I was going through last night. I might have to rework some of those lyrics to new music (since I don't remember the old music). Might be fun. C and I have been talking about "jamming" lately. Although we always end up sitting around, working in our free time, not doing fun stuff like jamming.

Sorry so scattered. More quality blogging to follow.

No to Nuptuals!

Weddings are a beautiful thing. They are a picture of Christ and the church, a great mystery. Lovely. Exciting. I cry at every wedding I attend, without fail.

We went to a beautiful wedding last weekend in fact. Kim was a beautiful, blushing bride, and I mean beautiful. Wow. It was so much fun spending time with friends I hadn't seen in a while, and I can't tell you how excited I am that one of those friends is moving back to Oklahoma.

So, weddings are great.

Not so in print.

If you are considering writing nuptuals into your novel, think long and hard before you implement them. How much of the grand event do I absolutely HAVE to include? How many details MUST be in the story? Who is my audience? What percentage of my readership will I alienate with an extravagent wedding scene? These are good questions.

Further, in evaluating the necessity of the nuptual, ask whether this is just you taking the opportunity to be "descriptive." If it is, be assured you can employ brilliant description elsewhere (or less description here). A wedding slows the pace of the story exponentially...ultimately because conflict is key. Unless there is a shooting in the middle of the wedding; unless there is something that hinders the hero, some conflict arises there, it probably doesn't need to be there. The story MUST move forward!

Reading at Home on a Friday Night

Yes, when my husband and I feel like we're not being social enough for a Friday night, we just remember: we do things with friends on Sundays, Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays. Fridays and Saturdays are for us, for relaxing. Well, Sundays are for the real relaxing. Saturdays are for working, and tonight, Friday nights are for working. Why? This is how my day played out:

8 a.m. - Got to work an hour early. Set up shop at my desk, which involves turning on my computer then going to the cafe for coffee, coming back (checking the thermostat on the way) and hoping my computer has booted.

8-9 a.m. - Caught up on email with a couple of authors, made notes in their files, opened Pandora.com, put in my ear buds, sent out two staff emails, and got started reading. Goal for the day: at least 21,000 words.

9-10 - Got a new cup of coffee, ate a nectarine at my desk, and kept reading.

10 - Meeting with team member.

10:30-11:20 - Read like a maniac, make lots of comments, try to view minimal email.

11:20 - 3:20! - Batman: The Dark Knight (That's right: field trip...for artsy purposes.)

3:20 - 4:00 - View minimal email, answer teammate's questions about issues he's having with a couple of authors, read?

4 - 5 p.m. - Meetings!

Did I meet my reading objective? A resounding no. Will I meet it tonight? Perhaps.

The man that v. The man who

I got caught up a bit more at work today. Good thing.

I've been thinking about common mistakes writers make and thought I'd address a few of those. (For those of you who read Pub Rants, yes, I'm unabashadly copying her, but this is genuinely what's on my mind.)

1) Stick to the story question(s). If you want to go of on a rant, fight the urge if that rant does not further the story. Description for description's sake does not work. It is boring, and you will lose your reader, as well as the interest of your editor. I want conflict, and I want it now, and I want to feel like I'm moving toward resolution.

2) Do not include the first description that comes to mind unless it is brilliant. Chances are, your best descriptions will take time. I've sat in front of my computer for five minutes trying to think of a way to describe a character's nose (and whether it was even worth describing). I ended up going with strawberry seeds. Stop being cliche. There are many great resources out there that discuss description, where it belongs and doesn't, etc. I'll stop there.

3) Learn the basics and copy edit your material. Don't send an agent or an editor anything less than your best work. If you're not good at syntax, have a friend who is read over your MS before you send it out (lest your work be thrown away). I'm in a different boat, as those MSS that come across my desk are contracted. But when I see five errors on page one, I cringe. Do I really have to trudge through this?

--As a side note, this may sound harsh, but I assure you: New York is harsher. And I am not even close to New York.

4) Work with your editor. When I make comments, heed them...and probably employ them. Your editor knows her stuff. She is not perfect, but she has been studying the craft since she was eighteen. She knows story and has good ideas for you. She also cares about your work.

So Busy and Still Slacking

I got back from camp with the kids Sunday around midnight. I only now feel back to normal, yet I'm still tired. So is life. I have so much catching up to do at work that I'm having trouble seeing straight, yet I can't make myself dig into the book I should reading right now. It is about Richard III. It's an interesting premise...a woman looking for the "real" history of Richard III and being basically hunted down by a group of Druids. Present day. New York. New York City Public Library, which always and forever will make me think of the original Ghostbusters. I need to start writing more on this thing. Resolution: blog more. Easier said than done.

Camp was amazing. I only wish hubs had been able to go. The ocean, on a clear day, was absolutely beautiful. So much so that I couldn't drag myself out of the water. The sand was like sugar, and the sun felt so good on my skin. Until my skin broke out in hives, but that's another story (and why I did NOT come back with a tan).

Driving over 2,000 miles is difficult, but the crew I was driving was wonderful. How I love the CTK Norman kids. How I love beach games. How I love reading.