It's official! Book signing / reading

I will be signing "How to Fit A Car Seat on a Camel: And Other Misadventures Traveling with Kids" on August 23rd at the Moravian Book Shop in Bethlehem, PA., along with fellow Car Seat Author Elrena Evans.

There will be some children's activities as well as our reading and signing, and there's a tentative plan for a contest with a copy of the signed book as the prize (signed by me, Elrena, and Sarah Franklin, the editor).

So!

August 23rd!

Bethlehem!

Me probably hyperventilating and being a complete spaz!

It's going to be fabulous.

Time Bandit by the Hillstrand Brothers

I feel obligated to say something about this book because for some reason, the majority of people coming to my blog have googled "Johnathan Hillstrand" and gotten my page (and scarily enough, one person googled torture stories and landed on my blog... can I just say WTF?).

So here's a mini book review, in case you're so inclined.

It was good. It was really, really, really good.

Here's the longer version:

I absolutely love Deadliest Catch. I am a Deadliest Catch geek. El Nino and I watch it every Tuesday - I even let him stay up for it. My dad and I discuss the previous episodes on the weekends. Right now, I am currently alternating between wanting to smack Phil Harris and hug him (and if you watch the show, you know why).

So of course I bought Time Bandit. In fact, I'm apparently not the only one who ran out the week it hit the shelves, as I got the last copy at my local Borders that week. I don't have the book on me at the moment, only because my brother is currently reading it.

But here are my thoughts- parts of it might not be the best written, but that's just the writer in me. But that didn't really bother me, because I still finished it in like two days. And the reason it didn't bother me is because of how true and honest Johnathan and Andy are in their writing.

Yeah, they can be full of piss and vinegar. They have that tough guy swagger and sure, at times I felt like they were sexist. But you know what? That's what they are and that thrilled me to no end.

Because they ring so true on the TV show, I was really afraid that when I picked up the book I was going to be disappointed. I wanted them to be rough and tumble guys. I wanted the piss and vinegar. And they delivered. They're totally honest in the book and I respect them for that more than anything. Sometimes they haven't made the best choices and they acknowledge that, but it's just who they are.

But at the same time, that honesty really opened up my eyes to a lot of things. Things like growing up in Alaska and what really happens on the show. It opened my eyes up to the editing process... not in a bad way, really, but it was interesting to read.

And the part about their father dying was just heartbreaking. They mentioned it on After The Catch this week (yes, dork, I know - I can't help it), so I don't think I'm giving anything away, but... when their father died, the three brothers buried him themselves. That just really struck me - I just can't imagine burying a parent with your own two hands.

I think his burial also really highlighted the whole Alaskan mentality, too, and showed me how different it really is from my little suburban naivety.

Anyway, I recommend the book. If you're a fan of the show (and like the Time Bandit), you really can't go wrong.

The only bad thing? I found out that they had a book signing very close to my house... the day after the book signing. It's my luck. El Nino and I were both very disappointed.

And the hits keep coming...

Besides class and massive amounts of work (which I need to get back to), in the last 2 days I've gotten three rejections on my stuff. Three! I've been waiting months for one of them, the other I wasn't expecting for months, and the last one I thought I had a good shot of getting in. And... nope.

I wish they could've waited until next week. It just kind of blows. The one story I'm pretty much giving up on, I think. I'm going to give it one more shot, then it's officially being retired. After all, it's been floating around out there for three years and it's been sent to about a hundred magazines. I'm thinking that it's just not sellable at this point. Oh well.

The kicker is, that most of the editors I've sent it to have good things to say about it, but in the end it's too much like "poetry" than short fiction and it's never quite right for the magazine. Nuts.

So, at the moment, I have nothing out there, which is the first time in three years that I haven't had at least one story/essay out for submission. And sending anything out is going to have to wait until next week.

I have to admit, it feels weird. Kind of like I'm slacking.

On a plus note, at least I won't get any more rejections!

Academic Torture

Lordy.

I'm taking a week long summer course. The good news about it: instead of 8am to 5:30pm, the prof is making it 8:30am to 4pm (no lunch break, however - we have to bring it with and eat in class).

I have a 30 page paper due (she gave us an extension option, otherwise it'd be due on Monday - you better believe I'm taking the extension), an entire student course manual to read and fill out (on top of the textbook), 2 presentations, a research article and a final exam. And a partridge in a pear tree.

So why am I on here and not doing the buttloads of work I have?

Because if I don't take a break, I'm going to go into a psychotic break. I had 7 hours of Freud and an hour of Carl Jung - and we were supposed to do Adler but never got to him. She REALLY likes Freud. He's interesting, but not that interesting.

Not to mention my legs are freaking going to fall off, because my group decided to run downtown for lunch. I didn't know how far downtown we were going to go, but apparently the first 15 places we passed weren't good enough... but Subway almost at the end of main street was the only obvious choice. Ugh.

When you're a chubby chick in flip flops with one fully loaded purse (including 6 action figures) and a shoulder bag with two textbooks, one notebook, your lunch bag, a huge water bottle, and your laptop, AND THEN you realize that you have to be back at 12:30 and it's, oh, 12:30 NOW and your companions (who are both a good 6 inches taller and considerably skinnier than yourself) decide to haul ass and then make a crack about to you about getting some exercise(and therefore inferred fat ass)... you get a little cranky. Okay, a lot cranky.

I'm going to go back to my book. But it's going into the bubble bath with me.

This is what Spring means...

That is El Nino in the picture, swinging a bat at a ball (which he missed - though he did eventually hit one). He's in one of the prep teams of one of the many local youth associations in the area and this Saturday was his last game.

It was a good game overall. The whole season, he's had some issues actually hitting the ball but the last few games he really picked up on how to hit. He also figured out how to catch like "a real baseball player", as he says. He used to put the mitt so the top was pointing towards the ground and he would back up until the ball would bounce into the glove, or (more often than not) the ball would bounce into his chest and face. In a combined effort, my father and I taught him how to catch with his glove upwards and in front of him. I threw gently and my dad stood behind El Nino and maneuvered his gloved hand. It only took a couple of catches and then he got it. It's made a huge amount of difference and, if it's at all possible, he enjoys baseball more than he did before.

There's something to be said about kids and baseball. Several of his teammates were returns from last year, so I've watched them go from T-Ball to the Prep league. I'm amazed by the progress they've all made. My kid has always had a hell of an arm on him, but now he can field and catch pop-ups, tag runners out, and knows instinctively to cover a base if that baseman is fielding somewhere else. It's unbelievable how much they've learned. It shouldn't be surprising, though, because our coaches were awesome - particularly our head coach (which is why I requested him again this year and why I'll request him again next year).

You know what else really amazes me? That I love baseball as much as I do. I never really liked the game, but he's infected me. We even watch the Phillies on TV and we've got to our local semi-pro league here, but most of all I love watching my son play. There's nothing like cheering him on when he tags a runner out. He always looks for me on the sidelines immediately afterward and there I am, grinning like an idiot, yelling good job, and flashing the thumbs up sign (unless I have my ubiquitous camera in hand). And you know what he's doing? He's grinning like crazy, too, thrilled beyond belief. Even from thirty of forty yards away I can see his blue eyes sparkling.

So that's what Spring means to me, and that's why I love it so much. Tomorrow we're officially into Summer and it seems fitting that the end of his baseball games and the end of Spring are at the same time.

So with that in mind, goodbye Spring. I've very much enjoyed this year, from the brief trip to the beach, to my son's baseball games, to our trip to his first (semi)pro baseball game in a real stadium, to El Nino finding his first four leaf clover and to all the mundane things like cooking on the grill, swing sets and playgrounds, and swimming in the pool. I'll see you again next year.

Possible Car Seat on a Camel Book Signing and Writerly Thoughts

Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh.

I contacted one of the local bookstores in my town and it's very possible that there will be an event involving me and one of the other writers in the How to Fit a Car Seat on a Camel: And Other Misadventures Traveling With Kids anthology at said bookstore.

I seriously think I might have a heart attack sitting here. Book signing. Me. In a store. ME!

I've written since I was little, but didn't seriously start writing until about 2003, when I took my first college level writing course (Nonfiction Writing). My first story, A Recipe for Potty Training, was miraculously accepted that spring in ParentGuide News... ironically, my professor advised me to take the unpaid offer and two weeks later I was contacted by another magazine who offered to pay me for it. I'd already accepted ParentGuide's offer, however. While a little disappointed, I was nonetheless thrilled anyway to see my name in print.

I took a few more courses (Fiction Writing and the Advanced Writing Seminar) and made a few goals for myself. I wanted to be published again. I wanted a fiction piece to be published. I wanted to get paid for my writing. And I wanted to be in a book.

Not necessarily at the same time, mind you. But just in general.

It took me three and a half years after Recipe was published to break into something else. My story Lines (fiction) was picked up by Healtheseas.com in April of 2007. Since then, I've accomplished all of the goals I had set.

This doesn't mean I'm done, however. I may have accomplished my initial goals, but I'm going to keep striving for more. And they're definitely possible. It's not easy - for me, writing can be draining and very time consuming. But there's a certain reward to all of it, knowing I'm good enough. I feel like I've accomplished something and it gives me a little heart-swell of pride.

Finding out about the signing really knocked everything home for me. I never thought in a million years that I'd be in a book, and in a million more I never thought that I might actually be asked to do a book reading and signing. In all honesty, I never truly thought I was good enough to accomplish any of the goals I had set for myself.

But I did.

So I'll post more information as I get it, but I'm truly and deeply touched that this is happening. I don't think I'll ever get over the thrill of writing and this is one more magical journey for me to take.

MotherVerse Blog Post Up (also titled "I Did Something Stupid")

I blogged at MotherVerse again. Here's a big of a teaser:

So Wednesday evening (technically it was Thursday morning because it was 12:30am), almost a full 48 hours since fishy dude was at the office, I was finally managing to drift off to sleep. Then I sat bolt upright in my bed, clutched my chest as if I was having a heart attack and yelled, “THE FISH TANK!”

Yes, I did something stupid (go figure). You can read more about it here.

Covert Operations of the Kiddie Variety

If anyone has read my essay in MotherVerse Vol. 8, you know it's about my son, his nose, some ripped up paper, and an unfortunate but necessary hospital visit.

That happened when he was about three years old. I thought for sure he'd learnt his lesson, especially as he's incredibly embarrassed that not only has his mommy written a story about him doing a very silly thing indeed, but it is also now published (although, after I read it to him, he did admit that it was funny).

So one would think that he would be incredibly wary of sticking paper in orifices where they don't belong - especially now that he's six years old. I mean, he wouldn't want to end up having anything more written about him, right?

You can see where this is going, can't you?

Over Memorial Day weekend, my son hopped up onto my lap. I thought it was a perfect time to check out the ear wax situation in his ears. I saw what I thought was an enormous ball of wax and decided to do something about it.

Of course, it turned out to not be a ball of wax at all.

"What in God's name is in your ear?" I asked.

After some stammering, the story came out. Apparently at school sometime the week before, his friends had been using straws as phones in a covert playground operation. My son did not have a straw, so he decided to go wireless and inserted a spitball sized piece of paper in his ear. After discovering it was stuck, he tried to dig it out. His friends assured him it was gone.

Well, it wasn't. And when I had decided to do a surprise ear wax inspection, I discovered it.
After my own covert operation involving a nail cuticle thing (y'know - small, thin, with a little scoop on the end - which I totally recommend investing in, in case you ever need to get a spitball out of your child's ear), a lot of squinting and one tiny piece of paper, we were in the clear.

I was, anyway. El Nino, on the other hand, had to sit down and write "I will not stick paper in my ears" ten times. That doesn't seem like a lot, but it took him about forty-five minutes (because of all the whining and complaining), so it was a pretty good punishment.

I swear, only my child.