The River of Life

We're puttering down the river of life. We've mapped out our course. We've got the weather forecast up on the netbook, our toes dipped in the water. (The piranhas aren't biting today.) The sky is blue, the jungle birds are singing, swooping low, trailing colorful tail feathers through the water.

Then a hippo plows into us out of nowhere and dumps our boat upside down.

Whammo! Splash!

Well, maybe it's not always that drastic. But sometimes it is. Sickness can hit us that way. Death. An accident.

An unplanned pregnancy feels that way, too. For some people it dumps them overboard. For others, I guess the hippo just pushes their boat down a section of river they weren't planning to travel.

That's the boat we're in.

The ironic part is that a few months ago I was planning on writing a blog post about how weird it was not to be pregnant. My baby was about 18 months old, which was normally when we'd start thinking about another one. But Sophie was our last. We'd decided that. And I was excited about moving on.

I'd started planning the next stage of my life: getting all my kids out of diapers; having all the kids in school in a few years; having more time to write.

I signed up for the SCBWI LA conference, because my life was stable. It was time for me to start investing more in my dream of being a real, live author.

Then, BAM! Course irreversibly altered. Six months from now -- if everything goes well -- we'll have a screaming, kicking, pooping newborn again (whose head smells like milk).

I'll be honest, I cried at first. Because this was a detour, which probably means I'll have to postpone my dreams a little bit longer. But then I went in for my first ultrasound and, of course, you can't help but be excited when you see that little body wriggling around on the screen and you think -- "That's my baby!"

Of course, we're scared, because five is a big number when it comes to children. Each one of them is an individual responsibility. Do we have the strength to keep pouring into all these little investments?

And I'm exhausted. I've been sick for three months and I'm so ready to be done and feel normal again. Hopefully any day now. Hopefully. Hopefully.

Hopefully one of these days I'll enjoy cooking again. And eating again. Hopefully. Hopefully.

As we meander down this river we weren't planning on traversing, I'm thankful the hippo didn't capsize our boat.

And I'm thankful that this may be the journey we were meant to take all along, even if it wasn't our plan.

Night Out on the River

A dinner cruise. 

Quiet (except for the roar of the engine). 

Peaceful (except for the wind whipping my hair in my face). 

Able to eat uninterrupted (check). 

Able to carry on adult conversation (check). 

Saw a flock of pelicans (check). Canadian geese performed an air show (check).

Cracked open a crab leg for the first time in my life -- and screamed, of course (check). 

Discovered that crab may be my favorite food (double check).

 

Spent a beautiful evening with my beloved on our anniversary (check! check! check!)

The really interesting part of the evening, however, came at the end. Our captain's wife noticed a boat with a couple guys in it waving their arms around.

They'd run out of gas about 500 yards from a gas pump.

"How'd you run out of gas out here?" asks our captain (a Prosser Sheriff, mind you). 

The guy without the shirt says, "That's a darn good question."

"How many beers you had tonight?" asks our captain.(We'd noticed a discarded beer box floating next to the boat when we pulled up.)

The guy without the shirt stares blankly.

"I said, how many beers you had tonight?"the sheriff repeats.

"Uh, don't know."

"Why's your tongue lolling around in your mouth right now?" 

"Can't quite say."

"Well, I've been a cop for a long time, and when I see two guys without gas within sight of a gas pump, and they can't talk straight, well...."

Honestly, I felt like I was a fly on a squad car. 

Or at a live taping of Cops.

Then it hit me: I could never be a policeman.

Never in a million years.

My response to a drunk man in a boat would be more like, "I'm so sorry to trouble you, sir, but how many beers have you had tonight? ... if you don't mind telling me, that is...."

We towed them over to the gas pump. The guy without a shirt promised his daughter was going to pick him up. Nobody got arrested. We wound our way back up river in the twilight.

The bridges were lit. The stars popped out. The wind whipping over the boat's prow alternated between shiveringly frigid and balmily warm.

Perfect night.

I just hope those drunk dudes made it home okay.

Saturday Update: Where Haven't I Been?

Boy, I miss a few days of blogging and I feel like I'm MIA. I guess I've been more in a regular blogging routine than I thought.

The thing is, I have so much blogging fodder right now, but not the time to sit down and post it.

So, we'll make due with a Saturday Update, journal style.

Monday, July 5

My sister was visiting from Hong Kong and we wanted to take her camping. My dashingly handsome sidekick suggested Onhanapecosh, a camp ground in the Mt. Rainier National Park, a mere two hour drive from our humble town of Prosser.

The pictures say it all. We had a blast.

Thursday, July 8

Today my sister and I drove to my aunt's house in Camas, across the river from Portland, OR. We took the scenic route, stopping for Greek food along the way at a Greek Orthodox monastery where the sisters make the food from scratch. "Best gyros in the United States," quoth one customer as we entered the shop. We began salivating immediately.

He wasn't kidding. The tzatziki was to die for.

I had passed that monastery a thousand times. Thank goodness for my sister who loves travel and adventure whose idea it was to stop there!

We also stopped at Maryhill Museum on the Columbia Gorge. This was the only challenging part of the trip. I had my two younger daughters with me, ages 4 and almost 2. Let's just say, museums aren't the best locations for young children missing their naps. I got a few death stares from old ladies who were distressed by my children's loud, echoing voices (and occasional screaming fits) throughout the old mansion's hallways.

But we did get to see Queen Marie of Romania's furniture and the gown she wore to her cousin's coronation (made with platinum and silver threads! -- I thought that was the stuff of fairytales!) We also saw some beautiful paintings and pottery. Learning about the history of the museum was fascinating. There were chess set collections and a huge display of Native American stuff (sorry, I can't think of a better word at this moment. Think: baskets, tools, papoose carriers, clothing, etc...). Quite the eclectic mix!

The girls and I left my sister with my aunt (boo hoo!) and drove back that night. I was frightened of hitting deer in the pass in the dark, but the only animals I came close to hitting were two coyotes.  All I can say is thank goodness for seatbelts.

Friday, July 9

Woke up bright and early to drive my dashingly handsome sidekick to Yakima for knee surgery. I spent most of my time in the waiting room reading a friend's WiP on my laptop. Yay for laptops and entertaining WiPs! I felt like I had a productive day.

The sidekick got through surgery and is spending his time with his leg (complete with gigantic bandage) up. The doctor said he's absolutely not allowed to help me with housework for at least a year. (Thanks a lot, doc!)

Saturday, July 10

I'm dragging my limping dashingly handsome sidekick on a dinner cruise tonight to celebrate our 11th anniversary. According to the boat's skipper, all he has to do is walk from the car to the boat and then the dhs can sit with his leg up for the entire evening.

Sounds pretty good to us. We're dropping the kids off at grandma's in twenty minutes. 

Better go. Ciao!

A Story A Week: The Routine

“Twenty seconds, Sandra.” Mother’s voice drifted from the living room.

“Coming, Mother.” The water was hot. I carried the basin in first, careful not to slosh on Mother’s good rug.

The clock on the mantle chimed.

“All right,” Mother said in a quiet voice. “Turn it on, then.”

I set down the basin on the towel near Mother’s feet and stepped over to the television set. The button clicked when I pressed it. Mother had it on the same channel, always ready for her one o’clock program.

The opening music had already begun.

“The chocolate?” she murmured.

“It’s ready,” I said. “Back in the kitchen.”

As I hurried back out with the tray and laid it on the table at her elbow, Mother said, as if she had to remind me, “And the drink.”

She liked to have a full cup of ice water on a coaster next to the chocolates. Chocolates sucked the moisture right out of her, she said.

“I’m a little behind today, Mother,” I said. “Due to the leaky toilet.”

“Yes, Sandra,” Mother said. “I know.” But I could hear displeasure lacing her voice. She didn’t like me puttering around during her program.

I found a puddle in the bathroom this morning that could’ve drowned a small child. Called the plumber. Being a good man, he came right away, fixed the toilet, but tracked his dirt all through the house.

I worried Mother’s lunch wouldn’t be ready on time, that I wouldn’t get the water heated before her program began.

“Do you need help with your shoes?” I asked. Mother has a time bending over these days.

“Drink first, please,” Mother said, her eyes on the television screen.

“Max, you know you’re the only man I’ve ever loved. How could you even think I’d sleep with Logan? He’s a friend! Just a friend!”

I set down the coaster first, then the ice water on top of it. A single tear from the side of the cold glass slid down the surface.

I unlaced her shoes.

“Cassandra, stop! Wait! – You know the truth. Just tell me! I can take it.”

“No, Max. Not this time. You say you can handle the truth, but you can’t handle this.”

Mother dipped in the toe of her left foot. “Water’s too hot.”

“All right,” I said. “I’ll bring some cold from the kitchen.”

“It’s Scott, isn’t it? Something about Scott. Cassandra, don’t keep it from me!”

“Go to hell!”

The water out of the tap was warm against my fingers. On hot days, the pipes stayed hot.

“And the fan, Sandra!” Mother called.

I brought in the smaller basin of cooler water. “Here you are, Mother.”

“Not too much, it’ll get cold.”

“Max! You’ve got it all wrong. Don’t do anything you’ll regret!”

“You don’t leave me any choice, Cassandra. How can I go on in the world now?”

“Is that better, Mother?”

“Much better, Sandra.” She looked up at me as I tilted the fan. The breeze lifted wisps of white hair around her face. Her smile deepened the laugh lines in her cheeks.

A rush of euphoric pleasure seized me. The same old grabbing at my heart. Because I had her with me one more day. Her smile repaid me for everything.

“I can’t believe Max doesn’t believe her,” Mother said, her pale blue eyes darting back to the screen. “After all they’ve been through together. Isn’t that interesting, Sandra?”

 
Thanks to my Aunt Sandi for this week's inspirational words: euphoric, chocolate, and chime. If you'd like to leave me three inspirational words for a future story, click here and leave your words in the comments section. Thanks! 

WQI with Author Samuel Park: This Burns My Heart

Welcome to the first ever WQI (World's Quickest Interview)!

Today, I have a very special guest. Samuel Park is the author of THIS BURNS MY HEART (published by Simon & Schuster), scheduled for release in June, 2011.

Thanks for being a willing first victim, Samuel! No, but seriously, I am very excited to read Samuel's book, and I hope after reading this WQI you're as excited as I am.

The rules for WQI are simple: my questions are under 140 characters long and Samuel's responses are just as brief.

Take it away, Samuel!

Please describe your book.
THIS BURNS MY HEART is about a woman in 1960s Korea struggling to give her family a good life and find true love.

How long have you been writing?

I've been writing since I learned how to read--I've always been addicted to the idea of being a writer.

 

Who or what inspired this book?

My mother's life. It had all the elements of a really great drama--conflict, heroes and villains, and a fascinating setting.

How long did it take you to write this book?

It took me nine months to write the first draft, then 2 years to revise it.

Besides writing, what do you like to do most?

I love watching TV, especially Survivor and Real Housewives of New York City.

All-expenses-paid vacation: where would you go?

I would go to England, because I have lots of friends there who I never get to see.

What’s your favorite color and why?

I like green because it's calming.

Lunch with anyone: who would you choose?

Vittorio De Sica--I know he's dead, but his movie A BRIEF VACATION made a huge impression.

Cat or dog?
I love cats, especially rubbing their stomachs.

That's all, folks! Quick, huh? And don't you feel like you know Samuel better? And don't you wish this book was available NOW?

Thanks again, Samuel. I'll be reminding everyone next year to preorder their copy because I know I will be! In the meantime, enjoy his blog by clicking here.

Let-tuce Be Writers & Other Fun

I actually won something! It's been honestly a whole year since I've won an online contest. So, I was pretty jazzed when KarenG told me I won her contest-naming contest over on her blog, Coming Down the Mountain: From Reclusive Writer to Published Author.

KarenG has contests running all summer under the banner title Let-tuce be Writers (cool name, huh?). Please check it out because she has a lot of cool prizes in store.

In other cool news, I'm at 101 blog followers.

So,  

THANK YOU!

You guys are awesome and I'm so glad to get to know everyone better. 

And in still more cool news, Samuel Park, author of the upcoming book This Burns My Heart, agreed to do The World's Quickest Interview with me. 

I'll be posting his interview early next week (after you've all recovered from all the Fourth of July revelry.)

Please stop in to read about Samuel and his book. He's a very cool guy and his book sounds awesome.

Have a wonderful American Independence Day, everyone, no matter where you are in the world.

If you're in China, please don't dance in the street like I did one year. I almost got arrested. 

But that's another story....

God bless America!

Spacing Manuscripts -- Like Spacing Children?

I have kid analogies in my brain all the time. Forgive me.

As I mentioned the other day, my WiP is out with its first beta reader. And already my brain is in What's-Next mode.

I'm holding back, though. I have a feeling that if I start plotting my next book, I'm going to lose motivation to work on my WiP ... and I know my WiP still needs a lot of work.

It's similar to when your baby reaches a milestone: Your six month old cuts teeth. Your one year old takes steps. Your twenty month old uses an iPhone (pictured).

You feel sadness that your baby is growing up. You may even shed nostalgic tears. And then there's that stirring, that whisper ... "Is it time for another one?"

Okay, some of you are laughing at me. You're looking at my family picture and realizing why I have so many children. Yes, I'm a baby addict. My babies are barely out of diapers (sometimes not even) and I'm popping out the next one already.

I'm the same way with my novels. During the querying process of one manuscript, I'm already half-way through the rough draft of something new.

Is that a good thing or a bad thing?

Well, as with most life decisions there are pros and cons.

Pro: I don't get hit so hard with Query Funk. I have something new to look forward to. Rejections don't sting so much because my next book is so much better (right?).

Cons: I wonder if I give up too easily. Rationale: Okay, twenty people rejected this one. Instead of going back and revising and trying to fix some of the problems, I'll shelve it. I'm almost finished with my new WiP anyway. I'll just work on that.

Very much like child spacing. There are disadvantages to having your children all right on top of each other. I know people whose children are a year apart. Those are tough early years. Those babies who are still babies are also big siblings who have to learn to grow up pretty quickly.

But on the other hand, I know families with kids six to ten years apart. The parents are more sane, but there's something nice (albeit at times chaotic) about kids having their siblings as playmates.

The bottom line is finding the right balance for YOU. Are you the type of person to work on one novel and tirelessly query it for ten years, or are you going to shell out ten novels in the same amount of time and trust that you'll learn enough by the tenth one to make it brilliant. Or is there a happy medium?

Different methods work for different people. What's your rule-of-thumb for the timing of a new project?