New Story Up at Grievous Angel!

My flash horror story, I FORGOT TO LOCK THE DOOR, is now live over at the marvelous Grievous Angel Magazine!

This story was written towards the end of the summer in 2015, just a few months after we moved from Brooklyn to the suburbs. We knew nothing about our new town before moving here, except that the few people we met who'd heard of it said it was great for families. Low crime rate, excellent schools, people moved here just to raise their kids. Sounds good, right?

But we didn't really know anyone in the town when we moved. The kids were not going to camp. We didn't have a babysitter. No daycare. Because our former landlord screwed us over, we could not afford to join the town's community pool. So that meant a summer of just me and the kids finding things to do for nine weeks. We discovered a nearby skate park and my older son picked up skate boarding. We joined the nearby science center. I let the kids ride their bikes in the street. I set up kiddie pools in the backyard. None of this kept my kids amused for very long, and by the time the first day of school arrived in September I wept with relief.

I had this idea that when we moved in, suddenly families with kids would pour out of their houses on our street and my kids would be outside playing all day every day all summer long, but instead we met almost no one.

Things have changed, certainly. We have friends in town, the kids have plenty of play dates, we have babysitters, we've joined the community pool in the summer, and we know which camps the kids like. Our summers are now full of friends, camp, vacations, and spending long afternoons socializing poolside. But that first summer is burned into our psyches: long, empty days full of quiet and boredom. And that's where this story comes from.

Domestic Horror

Don't you hate it when people let months, even entire years go by without updating their blogs?

Me, too.

*ahem*

When I moved to New York City in 1996, I never intended to leave. About a year and a half ago, the fam and I moved to a small town in New Jersey. Most New Jersey small towns within a one-hour drive of New York City are considered suburbs, and ours is no exception. With housing prices in Brooklyn showing no sign of coming down any time soon, and with my husband working in Secaucus, moving seemed like a resigned evil.

So here we are.

That first summer in our new house -- like, a real house with a backyard and basement and a mailbox that doesn't require a key -- the kids were not in any kind of camp or daycare, I was working from home part time, and blogging seemed like one more chore to drag down my mood.

Then the kids started school and things got really hectic. There were issues. There was drama. There were problems. Getting us all through each day felt like a marathon. I kept waiting for that moment when everything would click into place and I'd finally feel like this was home, this was our life, and this was fine. Everyone kept telling me how happy I should be. So I kept waiting.

I also picked up a Shirley Jackson book.

Every once in a while I go on a book-buying freeze because I find that my to-read pile has grown out of control. Whether they were given to me, I won them, or bought them and forgot, when I find I have more than two dozen unread books in my house, I force myself to read those before I buy any more.

Years ago I had attended Book Expo America and since it was the last day of the convention people were giving away free books. I picked up "Come Along With Me," a collection of Jackson's short stories and lectures. And then I forgot about it.

Reading this book at the exact moment when living in small town suburbia felt more like the American Nightmare than the American Dream tapped into something deep down in my psyche that I couldn't put my finger on. Of course stories like "The Summer People" and "The Lottery" resonated with me, but what really piqued my interest were the details of Jackson's life and her personal essays. I followed "Come Along With Me" by reading "The Haunting of Hill House" and "We Have Always Lived in the Castle," and I felt like, "Where have these stories been my whole life?" It was like finding my literary True Love.

After "We Have Always Lived in the Castle," I bought and read "Life Among the Savages" and "Raising Demons," both collections of Jackson's personally essays on raising children in small-town America. And though those stories happened over five decades ago, they resonate with me today with their timeless themes of stubborn children, household chaos, and small town weirdness.

Now we've settled in to our "quaint" little piece of the suburbs just fine: the kids have friends and get invited to birthday parties; my husband and I have game nights with other couples; we've been to enough restaurants to have favorites; we all have library cards. Sometimes I don't hate it here, and I'm no longer scared to drive. The summer camps are much cheaper, the schools are amazing, and I know where to find NYC-worthy bagels. But it still feels weird to me and probably always will. I'm a city girl. I feel safe in cities, with their crowds and anonymity. Growing up in Miami and living my entire adult life in New York City, I've never felt out of place as a Jew; here, I'm definitely a minority. My kids went from a school in Brooklyn where at least a dozen other children had their same Hispanic last name, to being the only ones with that name here. And though our town is known for its enormous, fancy houses, we live in a smallish house on the less-desirable end of town and on my really good days I don't feel self-conscious about that.

I've written three new stories in the past three months, and one flash piece before that, all with the same theme: the horror within our own families. I call it "domestic horror," and I fully admit I am inspired by the Shirley Jackson. My flash piece, "I Forgot to Lock the Door," was written during that first summer here when I kept waiting for the "good for families!" part of our new town to show itself and felt, instead, like we had made a huge mistake in moving here.

So yes, it's been tough at times but it's getting easier. And yes, blogging seemed like the last thing I wanted to do for a while. At least now I feel less alone, both in my real life thanks to the friends I've made, and in my inner life, thanks to Shirley Jackson.

Halloween Play List

Like many genre writers, Halloween is my favorite holiday. I love the spookiness, the creepiness, the embracing of all things other. I love the colors, the candy, the make-believe.

With small children in the house, it's easy to get into the Halloween spirit early on. Come October 1, our decorations go up and I create a Halloween station on Pandora. This year I also created a Halloween play list on YouTube for the kids. It's totally spooky but not scary -- an important distinction, especially in my house. My 6-year old and 2 1/2-year old love spooky, but have a low tolerance for scary. What's the difference? Spooky is cute, fun, funny, silly.

Child-appropriate spookiness

Scary is, well...

"Are there any little children I can eat?"

Since my husband and I don't enjoy staying up all night with terrified children, we emphasize spooky in our Halloween fun and try to minimize the scary as much as we reasonably can. Don't worry, we're not total sticks-in-the-mud about it: we still have plenty of glow-in-the-dark skulls and skeletons around the house.

All children have varying tolerance levels for scariness, and are scared of different things. I know my oldest can handle most of "The Nightmare Before Christmas," but would be totally freaked out by the kidnapping of Santa Claus. Ghosts and most monsters he can handle; bad things happening to people, though, disturbs him beyond reason. And he loves. Santa. LOVES Santa. 

Whatever your kids like, and whatever disturbs them, I hope you and your family all have a fun, spooky, and safe Halloween!

The López Family Halloween Play List 2014

My kids love this intro. So far it's all they've seen of the movie. Some day, when the older one won't be so frightened of Santa Claus getting kidnapped by the Oogey Boogey Man, I'll let him watch the whole thing.

This is another movie we haven't watched yet. Not because of the ghosts; my 6-year old prides himself on not only not being scared of ghosts, but actively liking them. No, it's because of the scene near the end when Dana and Louis turn into those creatures. See above, re: bad things happening to people. I know that would give him nightmares for weeks. They still like the video, though.

True fact: I have the Addams Family theme song as the ring tone on my phone for whenever my parents call me. I can relate to the Addams Family: they think they're normal. So does my family. 

Who doesn't love this scene from "Beetlejuice?" 

True fact: I went through a major "Rocky Horror" phase in high school. My friend gave me the cassette (aging myself!) with the entire movie on it, including all the audience Partici-Pation, and I knew it all by heart. Still know most of it. And now my 6-year old knows how to Time Warp and can sing the song. Hashtag: Geek Parenting Done Right. Damnit, Janet!

Don't pretend you didn't watch this movie, and don't pretend you don't remember this scene. I mean, for pete's sake, Tim Curry sings about his tambourine. COME ON!

Remember SJP before "Sex And The City?" 

Another thing I won't show my kids yet: the actual "Thriller" video. But the song is still a Halloween staple.

And finally, because the 6-year old has gotten a little bit into Harry Potter (we're still working our way through "The Sorcerer's Stone." I've promised him he can watch the movie when we're done.) the HP movie theme song with some random visuals.

What's your favorite thing about Halloween? What's your favorite way of celebrating?

New York Comic-Con 2014

Another year, another NYCC done. This year it was just the Juban Princeling and myself. We managed to get there shortly after the doors opened and stayed until just before they closed. That's a lot of Comic Con!

"This is not a democracy anymore!"

What the prep for my costume did to my hands. This photo was taken after 7 washings.

The Princeling generously donated some "grass stains" to my costume.

The Princeling's inspiration for his own costume was Sled, a boy winter fairy from "Tinkerbell and the Secret of the Wings," a movie that is on so much in my house right now I'm pretty sure we went through it three whole times in one day last week. (To be fair, my 2 1/2-year old, The Duke of Juban, is in love with that movie, too. It's the first thing he asks for every morning when he wakes up, right after "chocolate milk.")

That's Sled, the boy winter fairy, second from left.

Since I am no seamstress, and since the Princeling informed me two days before Comic Con that he wanted to go as Sled, I had to improvise a costume on the fly. I used some fake orchid leaves from IKEA, sewed them with a few stitches to a light blue shirt, cut off the shirt's sleeves, used one leg from some pre-teen size purple leggings as the belt, and trimmed some shiny blue leggings. And, of course, bought some fairy wings. Thank goodness Comic Con is in October, when the pop-up costume shops are open!

Now that the Princeling is in first grade, I've started reading him the first Harry Potter. Because of this, I promised to buy him his own wand at NYCC, which we managed to score just in time for the Harry Potter NYC Presents: The Art of Wand Dueling lesson in one of the family rooms.

Princeling, in the wings, ready to take his new wand for a test drive.

The Princeling may not have reached the part in the book with the Sorting Hat yet, but you can believe that, when asked which house he belonged to, my child answered without hesitating, "Ravenclaw." Blue and gold pride, w00t w00t!

House pride, y'all!

After lunch, in which I had to eat standing up because there were, literally, no seats available, we scoured the show floor and I bought him yet another light saber to add to his collection at home, because really, you can't have too many of those. He also had a great time at the Writopia Lab "Create Your Own Superhero" booth, which warmed the cockles of my writer's heart.

The Princeling also discovered the Mutant Mania booth
so hard we stayed there for 15 minutes. This is my "Let's wrap
it up and do, literally, ANYthing else" face.

We wrapped up with the Big Magic For Little Hands demo downstairs, which gave the Princeling another chance to show off his new HP wand.

This guy. Love it.

Lots of really good cosplay this year, as usual. Special shout-out to this young lady I found taking photographs at the wand dueling lesson, who should win some sort of award for Best TARDIS ever. Note the wibbly-wobbly-timey-wimey detail on the skirt.

She is the queen of TARDIS cosplay.

And, that's how you know you're Geek Parenting right: When you're at Comic Con dressed as a character from The Walking Dead, with a light saber in your bag on your back, holding the hand of your six-year old son who is himself in costume as a minor character from an obscure non-theatrical movie and carrying a Harry Potter wand.

Me and my kid at New York Comic Con FOR THE WIN.

Happy Birthday, Juban Princeling!

We'll return to our regularly scheduled blog tomorrow, but today I want to use this space to wish a very happy 6th birthday to one of the two best things I've ever created.

Hashtag: Mushygushyproudmama

October 8, 2008

Geek TV: "Avatar: The Last Airbender"

This is what I hope will be the first of many reviews of fantasy and science fiction television I include on my blog. Why TV? Because, lately, sometimes TV can be really great. There's a lot of great genre shows out there, for adults and kids alike, and I include them in my love of all things f/sf as much as any books or movies.

I need to start with a show that's been on a lot in my house lately, "Avatar: The Last Airbender." What started with a few episodes to amuse my 5 1/2-year old Juban Princeling on an airplane trip last month has turned into a family obsession. Even my husband, who isn't a huge fan of animation, has said how good this show is.

I'm not the only one who's noticed; the parent reviews on Common Sense Media - a site I frequent and take very seriously before I show unfamiliar media to my children - rave about this show. Even one of my favorite geek blogs, The Mary Sue, is getting in on the "Avatar" action. And with good reason:

It's a good show.

It's really good.

Not just good for kids, but adults as well.

Now, I know that as a good, progressive parent in 2014 I'm supposed to limit my children's exposure to "screen time," and that's very nice in theory. Sure, if I had an army of nannies at my beck and call, and a mansion with six or eight different play rooms filled with millions of toys and games, then my kids would probably watch less TV. The reality of our situation, though, is that I'm mostly on my own in the mornings before school, so the best I can do is get the Juban Princeling and his 2-year old brother, the Duke of Juban, fed, dressed, and brushed teeth as quickly as I can, then put on a TV show I know will hold their attention while I take care of myself. You know, crazy indulgent mom things like brushing my own teeth and putting on pants that aren't made for doing yoga in, so I can take the older one to school. And in the evenings I make sure they have their baths, dinner, and do homework before any TV is allowed.

Hashtag: Paranoid defensive mode over.

Point is, there has been a LOT of children's programming coming through this house in the past 5 1/2 years. Some of it is pretty good -- "Yo Gabba Gabba," "Pinky Dinky Doo," "Doc McStuffins" -- but some of it has been C-R-A-P. I'm looking at you, Caillou, you whiny little twit.

So when either of my children gloms on to a show that's more good than bad, we encourage him to run with it as much for our sanity as for their well-being.

The quick-and-dirty of the show goes like this. In a fantastical, but Chinese-inspired, world there are four nations: Air, Earth, Water and Fire. Inhabitants of these nations can "bend" those elements to their will. Every generation, an Avatar is born who can bend all four elements. A hundred years ago, the Fire Nation decided to take over the world. They wiped out nearly all the Air Nation except for Aang, who was frozen in ice for 100 years. He's found by Water Nation brother-sister duo Katara and Sakka. Realizing he is the next Avatar, who was feared gone forever, Katara and Sakka sort of adopt Aang and travel with him as he learns to "bend" the other three elements, with Katara as his water-bending teacher. Their hope is that one day Aang will be powerful enough to bring down the Fire Nation and restore peace and balance to the world.

Meanwhile, Zuko, crowned prince of the Fire Nation, is tortured and banished by his father the Fire Lord. To restore his honor with his father he sets off with his uncle to find the Avatar and destroy him. Later, Zuko's sister Azula is brought in to the search as well, all leading up to the fateful face-off between Aang and the Fire Lord.

Toph: Blind earthbender who "sees" with her feet.
SHE SEES WITH HER FEET, YOU GUYS!

What makes "Avatar" so good? Here's a quick rundown:

No Stupid Costumes
OMG I hate the Power Rangers. HAAAAATE. Anything that the Princeling will watch that doesn't involve girls being relegated to the color pink, or bizarre and shitty foam costumes, is fine by me.


Subtle, Complex Storylines
You'll get no overly simplified good vs evil here. No bad-guy-of-the week. Instead, "Avatar" is spread out over three seasons. Each season contains a whole story arc in itself, and all three seasons lead up to the climatic ending. There are bad guys who turn good. There are unlikeable good guys. There are lovable bad guys. There is nuance and context, and a million shades of grey. The heroes often fail and the villains get away with a lot of bad stuff. I like that this show forces my 5 1/2-year old to confront the idea that people can grow and change with their circumstances, at an age where he himself is growing and changing so much every day.

Zuko: More than an angsty scowl

Well-Drawn Female Characters
In far too many fantasy kids' shows, women are relegated to one of three roles: the love interest; the evil witch; the doomed mother. There are variations on these, like the wise teacher or the damsel in distress. However you roll it, though, women are too often given lackluster supporting roles in fantasy, especially with children.

Yet here is a show with more than one female lead, and all of them are as varied and complex as, well, real-life women. They lose their temper, they feel despair, they get frustrated, they save the day, they teach, they grow, they learn, along with all the men and boys on the show. In other words, Katara, Toph (who is BLIND! How's that for non-ableist!), Azula, and the others all have actual full personalities that respond according to the situation and their moods - just like real people!

Azula: She will kick your ass and then laugh in your face.

Positive Messages
Another problem with children's shows is that too many of them try to beat kids over the heads with positive messages. The Duke of Juban loves this weird show "Bo On the Go!" It encourages children to get up and move around, which seems like a good idea in theory - if you've never met a child. Most kids I know don't watch TV for exercise. They watch it to be passively entertained. So when even a 2-year old sits on his ass during the "Get up and move with me!" parts of "Bo On the Go!" you know the show has failed in its messages. He just wants the pretty colors, OK?

While "Avatar" does have a few lectures from one character to another about things like destiny and following one's own path, the overall message of the show is clear in every episode: True success depends on friendship, believing in yourself, and trying your best until you get it right. In this show, hard work pays off. Practice pays off. Failing and trying again pays off. Trusting your friends pays off, and doing what you know is the right thing even against insurmountable odds pays off. And the show does it without patronizing its audience.

Katara: Gettin' shit done.

Aang
The main character, Aang, is the show's hero. But he's also a 12-year old boy, with all the hormones and feelings and anger that come with being a 12-year old boy. Even at 5, the Princeling can relate to feeling like no one appreciates what you do for them, you just can't get things right, it's too hard to keep trying, you'll never "get it." And, often in the show, Aang has to deal with fallout from previous incarnations or things that happened in the 100 years he was frozen in ice -- things that cannot possibly be his fault, but which he gets blamed for anyway. It's unfair, and Aang doesn't whitewash his feelings about this. He's bitter and pissed off and doesn't really want to do the right thing. He develops crushes, and his feelings aren't necessarily reciprocated. He gets mad at his friends. As the last Airbender, he is all alone, and sometimes that overwhelms him. He gets scared. Not everyone loves him. Not everyone thinks he's a hero.

Sometimes a kid just wants to be a kid

In other words, Aang is a pretty typical kid, who just happens to be the Avatar, and a great deal of the show is spent watching Aang try to wrestle with his destiny and his status, while also going through all the regular, typical kid stuff everyone else goes through. Sometimes it isolates him, sometimes he alienates those around him, but always it feels real.


The other night I opened my e-book to read a bit while the kids watched some "Avatar" before bed, but found myself shutting off my Nook before I read even one sentence. I'd rather watch the show with them, and not just for couch bonding time with my kids. As I said, it's a high-quality show with enough action to keep the Duke entertained, it's smart enough to get the Princeling thinking, and it gets my husband's and my stamp of approval for grown-ups as well.



What genre shows do you watch? What, if any, kids shows do you watch or let your kids watch?

Writing From the Guts

I used to think Stephen King was some sort of psychopath for all the terrible things that happen to children in his books.

Then I had kids of my own and I realized: Like most of us, he's probably just writing his fears.

Back in 2001 I wrote a short horror story called "Obedient Child." The inspiration behind the story was simple: I thought back to my worst childhood fears, abandonment and the dark, and went from there. The writing itself is rough, but you can still read the story at Morbid Outlook here.

My first novel, BLOODSISTERS, is inspired partly by my obsession with Arthuriana and the entire "child of destiny" trope. It's also partly inspired by my own real-life female friendships. Over the years I've had too many women friends to count. Some are still around, most aren't. Some went away and came back via the magic of Facebook; some are gone for good. Some relationships ended with a whimper as we drifted further and further away from one another until one day we just...weren't, anymore; others ended with a bang, in tears and slammed phones and angry, emotionally charged emails. (One ended over matzoh ball soup at the original Second Avenue Deli location.) BLOODSISTERS is, first and foremost, about two women friends and what happens to their friendship as their circumstances change over hundreds of years. When you live forever, how does that affect your relationships? BLOODSISTERS is one way in which I ask myself the questions that have plagued me for decades as my friends come and go, and my way of wrestling with the answers.

I bring this up because my current WIP, THE HOLLOW QUEEN delves into my new(ish) role as a mother. All the major story conflicts are there: man vs himself, man vs nature, man vs man, man vs society. But the biggie conflict of THQ is man vs the supernatural, sometimes referred to as man vs the paranormal or man vs the Divine. However you phrase it, it boils down to Us versus Things Beyond Our Control.

The supernatural force in THQ kills children, kills them in a lingering and terrible way. The force, nicknamed The Hollow Queen because of the method of killing (based on this mythology), represents all my worst fears for my children: an incurable disease, a fatal accident, a school shooting, a kiddie perv. As the parents and other grown-ups on board my novel's ship race to find out what's killing the children and how to stop it, I inject all my deepest, darkest, most terrible nightmares into my writing. When I write them, I face them, I control them.

This was all brought back to me in stark relief just two days ago. The weather finally picked up, and so I let my kids play at the nearby playground after school. In one of those accidents that just happens at playgrounds, my 2-year old ran down an incline just as a much older kid of about 8 or 9 came running from the side. They collided so hard that my 2-year old was thrown off his feet into the air and landed on his head with a crunching noise. I scooped him up, gathered my 5-year old, and rushed to the nearby pediatric ER. Three hours, two nurses and two doctors later, we were discharged. The little one, thankfully, had no concussion or skull fracture and was, by then, running around the pediatric ward happily chasing a toy truck.

My poor baby

By the next day he seemed to have forgotten all about the massive boo-boo on his head. But I didn't. I couldn't, and I doubt I ever will. The sight of my little one being thrown off his feet, the sound of his tiny skull hitting the pavement, the pounding of my heart and churning of my stomach as I rushed to the hospital, will stay with me as long as I live. Two days later I still tremble just writing about what happened, how much worse it could have been.

Same playground the next day, clearly all better.

Some day, when you read a scene in one of my novels or short stories of a 2-year old being hit with such force that he's thrown off his feet and lands on his head, you'll know I'm finally wrestling with that particular demon.

Where does your writing come from? How do you write the things that scare you? Where do your own demons factor into your writing?

The Non-Post for 2/26/14

Unfortunately, this week is already mostly lost for me. The Duke of Juban - who turns two years old next Friday - was up all Monday night and into Tuesday morning with a nasty stomach bug. He got no sleep, which means the husband and I got no sleep, which means yesterday I kept him home from daycare (the Duke, not my husband) and the two of us dozed off on the couch all afternoon in front of a "Sesame Street" marathon.

So I'm behind on exercising, I'm behind on writing, and I'm behind on blogging. When one thing goes that far out of whack, the rest of it inevitably follows. Keeping a kid home all day is one thing; being up all night is one thing; the two combined means I just can't. Sometimes there's not enough coffee in the world.

Today's my catch-up day for writing during the Duke's nap. While he's awake I'm following the posts over at the #MSWL hashtag on Twitter and catching up on any Nebula-nominated short stories I haven't read (there's at least one).

What do you think of this year's Nebula nominees? I'm all about "If You Were a Dinosaur, My Love" in the short story category. You can read it here. Have a tissue handy. What writing-related Twitter hashtags do you follow?

Zombiepocalypse! and, The Great THE STAND Epic Read Update, 10/15/13

Before I get into a long-overdue update on my Great THE STAND Epic Read!, please take a moment to click over to Nerdy Minds Magazine and check out my piece on Why People With Small Children Won't Survive the Zombiepocalypse. It's actually an older piece I wrote about a year ago for my former blog, Grey Skies (which I no longer do, because reasons), but I updated it slightly to reflect my children's current ages. This piece was inspired by watching "The Walking Dead" and wondering what would happen to us if a zombie plague -- or any catastrophic event, really -- hit while my children were still very small. 

Here's that link again. Click it, read it, "Like" it, comment on it, give it five stars, and show me you love me.

Now, The Great THE STAND Epic Read Update:

On page: 500

On chapter:  44

Just read scene: Everyone who is going to die of the virus is dead. Everyone else who is going to die because of the lack of people, has died. Now, the survivors are making their way across the country, meeting up with one another and having prophetic dreams of the Dark Man and Mother Abigail. I just read the scene where Larry Underwood, quite skinny, exhausted, and bearded, has fallen deeply asleep under a tree by a babbling brook.

I won't lie: reading is going slower than I expected. Not because of the book. King's writing style is, of course, quite readable. The story is just SO LONG, and I get so little time during the week to sit down and just READ, you know? At best I get an hour or so in the evenings when my husband and our 5YO child, the Juban Princeling, have their pre-bedtime "quiet time" together, plus maybe some time during the day when I'm not writing and the 19MO Duke of Juban is napping. At worst I get 10 minutes in bed at night before I fall asleep.

Either way, hitting the 500-page mark feels like some sort of milestone: only 130 pages until I'm halfway through, woo-hoo!

I do like the book a lot so far. I like the slow burn progress, I like the multi-character POV (something my critique partner Tony does really well), I love the dialogue. One of King's biggest strengths lies in the small but highly disturbing graphic details he throws in as a matter of fact: "So-and-so missed the way his friends used to X, Y, SOMETHING HORRIBLE, GAH!, and Z together." 

Example:

The scene: Stu Redman has just left Glen Bateman's house and is now traveling alone, and considering whether or not it would be a good idea to run into other people.

"Just lately Stu had been thinking a great deal about old friends and acquaintances. In his memory there was a great tendency to downplay or completely forget their unlovable characteristics -- the way Bill Hapscomb used to pick his nose and wipe the snot on the sole of his shoe, Norm Bruett's heavy hand with his kids, Billy Verecker's unpleasant method of controlling the cat population around his house by crushing the thin skulls of the new kittens under the heels of his Range Rider boots."

WHAT??? There I am, reading along, and everything seems to be fairly normal and generalized: Yes, we tend to downplay the more unpleasant qualities of the dearly departed. Then first, I get hit with Norm Bruett's heavy hand with his kids - vague enough to let my imagination work overdrive, despite reading earlier in the book this character's idea to break his kid's arm to shut him up. But then comes the increasingly disturbing and graphic image of Billy stomping kitten heads. Gah, indeed. Well played, Mr. King. 

Those details serve to both make the book more realistic -- yes, there are people who do horrible things in real life, and really disgusting things really do happen sometimes -- and to constantly remind me why Stephen King is considered the Master of Modern Horror. 

Exercise for Writers

I like to exercise.

There, I said it.

In addition to all the usual reasons why it's important to get a good workout in every now and then -- heart health, quality of life, etc. -- I think there are three reasons why writers should get their sweat on. In no particular order:

Healthy Body = Healthy Mind

I don't do any kind of regular workout. That is, I don't do the same workout all the time. I exercise based on the class schedule at my nearby YMCA cross-referenced with the Duke of Juban's nap schedule: Mondays I do step aerobics; Wednesdays I do power yoga (like regular yoga, but with a lot of sweating and grunting and grimacing and swearing); Thursdays I pound away at an elliptical machine for 45 minutes; and Saturdays I go spinning with the hubby.

All the workouts I do are very cardio-intensive. I sweat a LOT. Like, buckets. Like, if I am not hoopy and forget my towel, I probably shouldn't do the class because I will leave a small pond of sweat on the floor. And with all that heart-pounding sweat comes some wonderful endorphins, endorphins which make me feel reallllllly good, y'all. So good that I am a better mother for them, and a better writer. I come home, put the little one down for his nap, shower, and then pound out an easy one thousand words. They aren't necessarily good words, but they come easy, and once they are there and written I can always go back and revise.

Our Brains Need Downtime

Writing is sedentary for my body, active for my brain. Working out is the opposite of writing. With all those classes I take, and the one day of strapping myself to a cardio machine, comes some serious downtime for my brain. Not watching TV and letting my brain go all mushy; not sleeping to recharge. But doing something active without really thinking about much more than "Sweat good! Keep going! Sweat good! Keep going!" When pop music is blasting in my ears, my heart is about to burst out of my chest, and my body feels like I-just-can't-anymore, it's hard to stress about things like character motivation or plot points. Unlike watching TV, where I shut my brain off for a while, during exercise I still have to think -- only I am extremely focused on the task at hand and on getting through jump squats/lizard pose/that elliptical hill/that spinning hill until I can breathe like a normal person again and grab some water. And I think my brain kind of likes that.

Writing is Solitary; Going to the Gym is (Kind of) Social

As I said, I go to my nearby YMCA, and I do three classes a week. The babysitting there is free, and the little one loves it. He gets to socialize with other toddlers (he's very popular because he brings the colorful Cheerios) and have some time of his own, while I go get my sweat on. My step and yoga classes are almost always full and I enjoy the comraderie that comes with the shared misery of pushing our physical limitations together. On Saturdays the husband and I put both kids into Child Watch and have a sort of modified date together, side by side on our spinning bikes.

But even outside the classes, I live in a very small community within a much larger neighborhood, which itself is part of the big bad city called New York. I know a lot of people who go to my gym, and often see them coming and going: one of the regulars in the step class is a women I've been on friendly speaking terms with for 4 years now because our sons both have the same name and used to go to Child Watch together. Another mom I'm friends with has spotted me in the cardio room while our older kids played together. On days when I feel like writing is so solitary, and so isolating, it's nice to have that bit of human interaction in the mornings.



What about you? How do you find a good mind/body balance as a writer or other creative type?

Hail to the King

No, seriously, am I the last writer on earth to finally read Stephen King's "On Writing," aka "the writing bible" (as some call it)?

Like parenting manuals, I don't generally read books on how to write. Of course, sometimes I need help -- in either area. When it came time to potty train the Juban Princeling, I picked up "Stress-Free Potty Training," and when we learned he was going to be a big brother I got "Siblings Without Rivalry." I'm not a total Neanderthal, I just don't like wasting time reading books on things I already do everyday.

But sometimes even I have to admit that it's time to call in the Big Guns and see what The Pros have to say. To give you a clue where I am in my parenting life these days, I'm currently reading "Setting Limits With Your Strong-Willed Child." And in my writing life I'm just over halfway through "On Writing."

It started like this.

It took me three years to get to a draft of BLOODSISTERS I was truly happy with. With the first draft I just dove in and wrote it. Then I realized how much it sucked. Like, sucked hard, and with commitment, and on a level that made me embarrassed to show it to people. I know first drafts almost always suck, but from what I understand from other writers, first drafts should at least have a story, even if it needs to be reworked. The draft I had was not a damn thing like the story I saw in my mind. Not even a tiny bit. I didn't know what it was, but it certainly wasn't anything I recognized as the story I wanted to tell. I scrapped about 90% of my first draft, went back, and rewrote BLOODSISTERS until the story itself was something I could live with.

Going into BLOODSISTERS'S sequel, WANDERLUST, was daunting. I didn't want to have to scrap three months of hard work again. I didn't want to have to write the book twice, again. I psyched myself out so badly that after only a few thousand words I just sort of gave up. I took some time off to write a few short stories, revise BLOODSISTERS yet again, and then take a month off from writing entirely. (That last was not 100% voluntary: we moved apartments, and that sucked up a lot of my time.)

Meanwhile, I thought of a story for another book, one not related at all to THE PROPHESIES TRILOGY. The idea happened when the Juban Princeling misheard something his father or I said, and repeated back, "What's a hollow queen?" I decided to come up with an answer. The more I thought about it, the more I decided THE HOLLOW QUEEN would be a horror story. Not a short story this time, which is where my default spontaneous ideas go, but a novel. A historical novel. A ghost story.

Funny, how that little nugget of an idea then opened the creative floodgates. Shortly after figuring out (or "discovering," as King might put it) the setting for THE HOLLOW QUEEN (a passenger ship bringing immigrants to America in the late 1800s), I also discovered the real story for WANDERLUST. I came up with a five-point plot summary (sorry, King) so that I wouldn't get lost in my own story again and my first draft would, at the very least, turn into something I could actually revise and work with. I know the major beats for WANDERLUST; now I just have to let the story itself flow out of my fingers and onto the page. It's not an outline, it's not a plot: it's just beats, five of them. A compass, not a map.

With that, I decided it was time to pick up "On Writing" and finally, you know, read it. It's certainly motivating; look at me, up at 5:30 this morning to get stuff done. Reading other blogs, looking up new markets, anthologies and contests for my short stories, updating my blog, Twittering -- all the writing "work" that isn't actual writing. During the Duke of Juban's, daily 2-hour nap I like to focus on writing, including critiquing for my partners. In 2 hours I can write 1,000 words and critique two chapters for other people.

I'm happy to admit I'm not too proud to know when I need some guidance. If there are parenting professionals out there who can help me minimize my older kid's meltdowns, I'm happy to at least hear what they have to say. I don't need a perfect Stepford child, I just need more good days than bad ones. And if Stephen King himself has some advice on being a professional writer, then I think I need to sit up and pay attention. I don't need to be as successful as he is, I don't need to sell a gajillionty books like he has. I just need to write good stories I can be proud of.

Crikey!

Crikey, it's been a long time since my last update!

I say "crikey" because of my current Anglophile phase. It started when I saw STAR TREK: INTO DARKNESS and said, "Who is that beautiful man playing super baddie Khan?" and went home to watch the entire first season of SHERLOCK by myself, and in doing so, gave my heart over to Benedict Cumberbatch.

Big Ben. Best name for a clock, ever. *giggle giggle*

It's continuing on with my completely bizarre and out-of-nowhere obsession with the Royal Baby. I left MSNBC on mute all day during Kate's labor, and I'm not entirely sure why. (My friend in London, Sir Brit, thinks its because Americans secretly want to be British subjects again. I laughed, but a disturbing amount of my friends seem to be OK with that idea.)

Anyway. England, and whatnot.

In the past few weeks we've moved a few blocks from our former home (or "flat") to a new one with gorgeous views of New York Harbor, my older son has finished with preschool and started summer camp, and my little one is finally in more daycare, which means after nearly a month of being forced away from my writing I am finally back. I'm not going to lie: it was hard, emotionally so, not getting to work on any of my short stories or novel for a month. Every day I felt like something was missing from my life, and the first day back when I opened my manuscript and jumped in was like a long, deep breath.

But I wasn't idle during that month. I still submitted my short stories to markets and queried agents. No rest for the writing!

The bad news is I've had no bites on either front yet, though every day I become more optimistic that my stories are that much closer to finding their homes and my manuscript is that much closer to finding its champion. The good news is that when I revise my novel now I really feel like I'm reading something I love. And isn't that the whole point of writing? To write the story you want to read?

Ah, the little one is eating Veggie Sticks off the floor. Must dash. Ta, then. Cheerio, loves.

Productivity

Now, I love my kids, and I love being a stay-at-home mom so I can spend as much time with them during their formative years as I can.

But.

My husband took the kids to his mother's house in Florida this weekend, and I'd be lying if I said it's not affecting my creative productivity. I've rewritten about 80% of the first chapter of BLOODSISTERS, rewrote nearly my entire query letter, and am researching the hell out of every agent I want to query or re-query. And all this in just the first 36 hours they've been gone.

(I've also finally watched the first two episodes of "Sherlock," which my friend Michelle has been nagging me to watch for years. Since seeing "Into Darkness" last week I'm now a certified Cumberbitch.)

(Btw, "Star Trek: Into Darkness" is really, really good. Like, crazy good. Bananas good. I kind of want to go see it again while the fam's away. I want to live inside that movie.)

My adorable little enemy of productivity

I miss my kids, I do, and I definitely miss my husband, but it's nice to finally sit down and have all this uninterrupted work time. Before he started preschool my older child, the 4 1/2-year old Juban Princeling, went to daycare twice a week, giving me 16 hours a week of "work" time. I look back now and can't believe how much of it I wasted. Since we're trying to save money, my younger child, the 14-month old Duke of Juban, only goes to daycare 5 hours a week, during which I have a regular weekly doctor appointment, pick the Princeling up from school, and then take him to his weekly doctor appointment. But this summer the Princeling will be in camp from 9-5 every day, and I've told my husband that I absolutely need the Duke in daycare at least 2 full days a week. Maybe some people can write with two small children around, but I can't. The Princeling is old enough to give me space when I ask for it, but he also talks non-stop (no idea where he gets that from...) and doesn't yet get that I can't chat with him and write at the same time. The Duke, meanwhile, is jealous as hell of my laptop and just plain won't let me do anything on it if he's awake.

I have three days left of no kids and no husband. With all I've gotten done already, imagine what more I can do in the next three days!

A Little Sunshine, A Little Rain

*cough hack cough cough cough*

That's me with bronchitis.

Parents should not be allowed to get sick. It should be one of those laws of nature, like getting hungry if you don't eat, or getting sunburn if you stay out in the sun too long. Once you have kids you should be immune from getting sick. Because what do doctors tell you when you're sick? Get some rest. And what's the one thing parents are involuntarily incapable of, ever? Resting. My rock star husband is doing his best to pick up the slack for me, but even he can't keep up with an bored, active 4-year old and a curious, crawling 9-month old.

*cough cough COUGH*

It feels like my lungs are trying to force their way out of my body via my head.

At least right now he's taken the older one to the YMCA nearby for some indoor basketball, and the baby's sleeping, so I can "rest" -- read: "get some writing work done." Thankfully, the physicality of writing requires little more than parking myself on the couch.

First up: I got my first request for a partial from an agent, yay! I sent it off this morning, so wish me luck!

Second: I've had this idea for a horror short story for a while now. It's been years since I've written straight-up horror, and I kind of miss it. This could be a good exercise for me before I dive into the second book in my "Prophesies" trilogy.

But before I write another word I think the codeine is kicking in. Time for a nap.

*cough cough zzzz.....*