Darkness Falls

Part of my job involves taking calls from customers regarding their ads. This position rotates through my department and my turn ended at the beginning of this month, but a customer recently called when the designated person was already on the phone so the call rolled to me.

We spent about half an hour on the phone together, going over each portion of each ad, detailing the changes that needed to be made, and through it all, the caller was the epitome of patience and graciousness. When my computer was slow, he told me to take my time. When I didn't understand one of his requests, he reworded it for me until it was clear. He maintained a warm tone and thanked me several times for my help.

The next time he called, which was yesterday, he knew my first name so the operator directed his call to me again. He told me he was very pleased with the look of the ads but he wondered if he could make another small change or two. I told him I would make any changes he requested and we walked through the changes. Again, he was polite and patient. He thanked me for my help and praised the ads.

That same evening, I learned about what had happened in Paris. It might seem that the two things are unrelated ... and yet, they aren't. They both reflect the choice we all have in how we live our lives.

Here was one man who decided that he would approach his interaction with another person using good humor and warmth. He wasn't doing anything heroic, he was simply calling to request a change, but he did it in a way that made my day a little brighter. It didn't take a great deal of effort, but he made that effort and I certainly appreciated it.

Then there was a group of people who decided to act quite differently in Paris. Since we don't know for sure who these people were, I can't name their group (although there are hints of who it was). However, I do know that these people have decided to approach others with hate and murder. It doesn't matter if the people they encounter ever did anything to them or their acquaintances. They might turn on each other if given the right provocation. Whatever the situation, they respond with rage. People who have never met them are forced to deal with the consequences of that rage.

Please think about this the next time you encounter anyone in your life. I'm not suggesting that you will ever feel the need to pull out an AK-47 or a bomb, but we all contribute a little to the world's anger when we decide that politeness doesn't matter, when we snarl at someone who may or may not deserve it. I am as guilty as the next person of occasionally letting a personal feeling of annoyance spill out around me to darken the day of someone else. I need to try harder to remember that each person might be having a good or bad day, but I don't need to make it worse. I don't need to be part of the darkness.

Like the gentleman on the phone, even if I brighten the day of only one person, isn't that worth it? If we all try to do that, we can't solve all of the world's problems, but it might mean that at least there's hope for humanity ... and for peace.

Crystal Bridges

Yesterday we got one of those fall days where everything seems to be perfect: the temperature, the breeze, the sunshine, the colors. Amazingly enough, it was a day when we'd decided to travel, which usually brings extreme heat or snow, so I don't know how we managed to choose such a day.

We drove down to Bentonville, Arkansas, to visit Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art. We'd never heard of it until one of my co-workers recommended it ... and I'm glad she did!

Crystal Bridges, November 2015

The museum itself is unlike any I've seen before. When you approach it, you see rolling copper and glass buildings with rounded roofs and windows everywhere. The walls curve and wind, leading you from gallery to gallery, with a few side rooms that seem to appear out of nowhere as you explore. The exhibits lead you from Colonial and early 19th-century art through the 21st century. We saw works by Mary Cassatt, John Singer Sargent, Georgia O'Keeffe, Norman Rockwell, Roy Lichtenstein, Winslow Homer and many more.

That's not all there is to experience, however. The museum is located in a forest, with natural springs and native plants. There are several trails that give breathtaking views and also offer more art.

Tortoise and Hare by Nancy Schon

We had a lot of fun wandering around the grounds on the Art Trail, spotting a Frank Lloyd Wright house and several sculptures, some medium-sized and some very large. The leaves were turning colors and some of them were bigger than my hand! There were streams and squirrels, bridges and benches. It was a great afternoon.

If you're ever in northwest Arkansas, I recommend a trip to this museum. There's something there for almost everyone!

Contest Result

I hope you had a fun and entertaining Halloween! How it got to be the end of October is beyond me, and I feel a renewed sense of urgency about working on The Other Side. Once the Two Big Holidays get here, things will get crazy and it will be harder than ever to find time, so I'll try to get as much done as possible before then.

Since I spent two whole blog posts on the short story I was writing, I didn't think it would be fair if I didn't let you know how I did in the contest. Out of five entries, I came in second. I think that's respectable, don't you? (I was actually quite pleased.)

I want to thank Spellbound Bookstore & Cafe for holding the contest. Some of the entries were quite chilling! If you're in the Pittsburg area, you can stop by the store and check them out. Mine is called "Fall."

I have a friend who's going to partake in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) next month. If you've never heard of that, it's a group that encourages writers to write 50,000 words of a novel during the month of November. You can find out more here: NaNoWriMo

I did NaNoWriMo in 2006 and it was incredible to me how many words I had to write each and every day. That's not easy, especially for someone like me, who often writes in short bursts. It was a struggle and the result will probably never see daylight, but it was good for me and I did it!

All of this reminds me that I need to keep pushing myself and my writing. I don't want to fall into a rut and I don't ever want to find that I've stopped writing altogether, no matter how hectic and crazy my life gets.

Thanks again for following my blog. Please help me spread the word about my Penumbra series of novels.

Hope

Those of you who know me at all know that I'm a Cubs fan.

Yes, I said it: I'm a Cubs fan. I've only been one since 1987, when I went to a game at Wrigley Field, but that one game sealed my fate. The brick walls covered in ivy, the atmosphere, Harry Caray singing the 7th inning stretch: how could I be immune to those charms?

I tell you this so you know I'm not a fair-weather, come-lately fan. I'm nothing compared to people in their 90s who've been fans all their lives, but I was there for some of the lean, painful years. I was there for years when they had great players but just couldn't seem to make it to the postseason, or got to the postseason and stumbled, for reasons that no one can understand. (No, I don't believe it's the goat.)

Each spring, I'd get excited all over again. Each fall, I'd say, "Maybe next year." And I was sincere.

This past spring was much the same as usual. I knew they had some new, young faces, but that's happened before. I knew they had a new manager, but that's happened before. I hoped for at least a .500 season.

But after a few months, I realized something was different. It was hard because I couldn't see most of the games (How ironic that WGN didn't televise the games this of all years! Come on, WGN, don't break our hearts again next year!), but when I did get to see a game, it was fun to watch. I couldn't always say that in previous years. Still, I had seen good years before, so I cautioned myself not to get too worked up. This is what you do when you're a Cubs fan: you try to remain realistic, you remember the history (as much as you'd like to forget it).

The Cubs, though, played as if they'd never heard of the history, as if anything was possible. I watched, somewhat stunned, as they became the second wild card team. I watched, even more amazed, as they won the wild card game. Then I watched them win the NLDS ... and I didn't know what to do. Get excited? Be cynical so I wouldn't get hurt?

I did what most Cubs fans did: I dared to believe. I believed they could get to the World Series and win it!

As you know, that didn't quite happen (no matter what they said in "Back to the Future II").

But you know what? This year when I say, "Maybe next year," I mean it even more than I did in previous years. The Cubs have showed me that they can win, that they believe in themselves, that anything is possible.

I can't say I've never felt that before. But I'm sure grateful for a chance to feel it again.

Thanks, Cubs. I'll see you in the spring!

Keep It Short Part 2

Believe it or not, I finished my short story and submitted it to the Spellbound bookstore contest today, one day short of the deadline. Whew! My husband was a big help, with a lot of good suggestions, as I rewrote it several times. I think it's pretty good now and we'll see what happens.

Now I have a much better idea about what makes a short story different than a novel. I touched on this last week, but here it is in a little more detail:

1. Character development happens a lot more quickly. It seems you've barely identified the character before you have to demonstrate how that character evolves. I'm used to letting a character evolve over chapters, not paragraphs.

2. You have to get to the point quickly ... and you can only have one or it's going to get messy. This is very hard for me because I usually have a bunch of points I want to make and I'm not that fast at getting to any of them. I had to listen closely to my character to find out what she wanted to tell me about her wishes and decisions for this story.

3. Almost everything in a short story has to be there for a reason. In a novel, I can have some scenes that might set the tone or give you a little more insight into a character but aren't strictly necessary to the story. In the short story, I couldn't do that. I had to cut out all kinds of descriptions and sidetracks. Now almost every word has a reason: a "lonely" item reflects its owner, a spreadsheet showing the character's job at the beginning is used to show what choice she must make later, etc. This was more of an issue in this story because I was limited to less than 1,000 words, but I think it's true in most short stories.

4. My favorite aspect of a short story, though, is that you can pay close attention to every sentence because there are fewer sentences to work with. I went a little crazy with metaphors, but I really enjoyed getting to use more of them and stretch myself a little. I included more details in some scenes than I might have done if I was in the middle of a long chapter. Whether it made the story better or not might be up for debate, but usually more detail means a stronger story.

This does not mean I'm going to stop writing novels! I might try this again, but I think I'm too hooked on novels to give them up in the near future. I leave it up to you if that's good news or not!

Thanks again for reading my blog. Please spread the word about my Penumbra series!

Keep It Short

As if I didn't have enough distractions to keep me from working on The Other Side, I'm now in the process of trying to write a short story.

This all started when the local bookstore, Spellbound Bookstore and Cafe, posted on Facebook that they're having a costume contest and a short-story contest this month. I know I would fail miserably if I tried to come up with a good costume (although one year I did go as a Ghost Writer), especially one based on a fictional character, but writing is sort of up my alley.

One problem is that the story is supposed to be scary. To quote their Facebook posting: "In 1,000 words or less, writers are challenged to weave a tale of fright and intrigue that will leave our customers with the shivers." A tale of fright and intrigue is not exactly up my alley. I find that I tend to go for the upbeat, not the horrifying. (Is that a bad thing? Not necessarily!)

The main drawback is the maximum word count of 1,000. I don't write short stories, usually, because ... well, because I'm wordy. You should know that if you've read any of my novels. I do know how to go on, but not necessarily how to get to the point (or how to limit myself to only one point).

And I guess that's one reason I'm doing it. I need to rein myself in, learn to get to the point a little sooner. I need to see what's really important in the story, instead of throwing a lot of words on the page and hoping something good comes out of them.

Also, it's a chance to do some "real" writing. What I mean by that is writing, not editing or rewriting or trying to come up with a blurb. Creative, fun, "all-new" writing, which I haven't done much of for a while.

It's a lot of fun. It's frustrating as can be. I hope it's good for me.

If nothing else, it's good practice. We'll see if I can come up with anything good.

As always, thanks for reading my blog.

Closet Spaceship Part 15

Sometimes I like to go to Penumbra and just hang out. Sometimes the present gets to be a little much, so I slip away to regroup, recharge, recover. Maybe to escape. Most of the time, the crew can’t see me, which is what I want. I can settle in to watch people without having to interact with them. It’s what introverts do.

But I guess I know the truth: when I’m feeling a little unhappy with humanity, it’s best if I talk to someone who can show me it’s not all bad. I don’t learn anything if I’m by myself.

I was all grouchy and grumbling in the rec area one day when someone sat down in a chair nearby. I didn’t really pay attention because I wasn’t feeling sociable.

“You’ve never come to see me,” said a voice.

I looked up and it was Mark, which surprised me. That’s funny, isn’t it? I didn’t think he’d like me to surprise him, so I avoided him … until he surprised me instead.

“I didn’t know if you’d want me to,” I said.

Mark smiled. “People always say I don’t like surprises.”

“It’s true, isn’t it?”

“Oh, sure,” he said. “But I’m getting a little better at handling them.”

“I’m not so sure I am.”

“I said ‘a little better,’” Mark said. “Not a lot.”

He finally got me to smile.

“Okay,” I said. “Are you here to cheer me up?”

“I don’t think so. I didn’t even know you were here until Gwen said she saw you.”

Gwen. She’s sneaky … and pretty insightful, apparently.

“So are you okay with me being here?” I asked.

“I honestly don’t know,” Mark said. “It’s a little creepy, you have to admit, but you’re not exactly scary.”

“I hope not!” I hesitated, but I think he could tell I was going to say something else because he kept quiet.

“Let me ask you something,” I said. “The hardest thing, I think, is trying to do all of you justice. It’s not always easy to sum someone up, to make a reader see who he truly is. Do you think I’m even close?”

Mark laughed, which wasn’t what I expected.

“You’re asking me?” he said. “I don’t have a clue who I truly am, so how could you? I don’t think you should worry about that.”

“Well, I’m going to,” I said. “I want to get it right. So, seriously, tell me: am I even close?”

He did get serious. “I don’t know. I haven’t read it.”

I sighed melodramatically. “You’re not the only one.”

“I know,” he said. “None of us has.”

“None of you?”

“No. Can you blame us?”

I tried to think of it from his perspective and that’s when I got it: there was no way for me to get it completely right because I can’t know any of them completely. I know a lot more than the average person, but I can’t ever know all of it, so I can’t really know them. And I can only tell what I do know. If the crew tried to read one of my novels, they wouldn’t be able to ignore the glaring omissions.

Besides that, maybe they didn’t want to know what was going on in their crewmates’ heads.

“No, I can’t blame you,” I said. “I think it’s better that way.”

Mark nodded. “I know you’re trying your best. I think that’s all we can ask.”

“You sound like Ben,” I said.

He smiled and stood up. “Thanks.”

Then he walked to the doorway and paused. “Maybe someday I’ll tell you some more. Maybe we all could do that once in a while.”

I blinked at him. “Okay. If you want.”

Inside, I was doing a happy dance. That would be great, wouldn’t it?