Dedication

I wrote the dedication for my book today. It consisted of two words, just eight letters. And after I typed them, I cried for a long time.

Many times during the last three years, I’ve wondered why I was writing this story, why I continued to torture myself with the past. I could have tried to let his history be something I thought of only when medically necessary. Instead I’ve read medical records, interviewed doctors, and forced myself time and again into the sad and desperate places I’ve been during this journey.

When I turn the completed manuscript into the MFA department on November 16, I hope that I find it was all worth it, although I suspect that won’t be something I know for some time.

[And thank you to those of you who have contacted me, wondering why my last post was in July. The thesis has been all consuming, and I’m looking forward to different types of writing, including this blog, in the coming months.]

Don't stop

There have been many times in the past two years when I’ve wanted to stop. Stop writing. Stop doing homework. Stop going to class. Life has attempted to distract me in many enticing ways. But there are just two more weeks of class. And when this semester ends, there are no more classes. Not just for the semester, but for my MFA program.

There was an ever-so-subtle shift in my attitude three or four weeks ago. It went from When is it going to be over?! to Oh, it’s almost over! Once classes are finished, I’ll be working tirelessly on my manuscript for several months. But the weekly discussions about narrative arc and structure and pacing will stop. The weekly conversations about voice and narrative distance and tone will stop. The weekly assignments focusing on bringing things to life on the page and creating compelling dialog will stop. I had my final workshop last night, meaning it was the last time classmates will critique my writing.

I’m just guessing, but I suspect there will be many times when I wish it could begin all over again.

(Almost) All the right stuff

I’m wondering if getting an agent to champion my book proposal is like playing Skeeball.

I always want to go for the slots in the upper corners. They are worth 100 points if you get the ball in. But if you miss and your ball falls to the bottom slot, you get zero points. As a result, I usually stick with the safer, and more reliable, 50-point slots. Or at least they are more reliable for me. I'm pretty good at Skeeball.

I attended an all day seminar for people who want to turn their idea into a published book. Outside of having the seminar leader tell me that she wants to take me on as a client so that she can champion my book project, I heard the best thing I could hope for at my one-day seminar on turning your idea into a published book. “You’re doing all the right things,” she told me more than once during the six-hour class sponsored by Media Bistro.

And who doesn’t love praise? It felt great to hear that my hard work has produced a sound strategy and a compelling two-minute pitch. It’s nice to hear that I’m doing the right things when it comes to writing query letters, organizing my book proposal, contacting agents who have represented authors in similar genres, and trying to get a sample chapter published in a magazine. But there is something about that sentiment that is truly disheartening.

If I were truly doing all the right things to get my book published, then I would already have an agent and a book deal and a publisher.

To be fair, she did offer a few suggestions on how to make what I’ve produced even better. I’m going to make those changes, tweak my proposal, and create an online presence around my book idea. So I guess I’m not really doing everything right. Maybe that was just part of a praise sandwich.

Getting praise and decent feedback is like racking up a respectable Skeeball score. But in the quest to get published, only getting half of what I need is like getting nothing at all. Maybe just doing almost everything right isn’t right enough. I need to stop shooting for those reliable 50-pointers.

Hopefully a few more tweaks, along with my boosted confidence, will help me land in that most coveted place -- in the determined hands of an amazing literary agent.

Sour grapes, perhaps?

I think I'm going about this book-writing thing all wrong. I should have just latched onto a comment made by the First-Lady-to-be and decided to write a book. Why do soul-searching and a gut-wrenching examination of my personal experience with a critically-ill son who has spent months in the hospital when all I really needed was a catch phrase to latch onto. I needed the domain-name gods to align and be in the right place at the right time.

What am I referring to? Why Michelle Obama's self-proclamation of "Mom in Chief." I love that she used that expression. I'll chalk that coincidence up to great minds thinking alike. But if only I had been smart enough to also register www.mominchief.com in addition to www.motherinchief.com back in January 2005 when this site took life. Well, now there is another Mom in Chief, in addition to Michelle Obama and me. There is blogger with that domain name and a book deal to match. Her book is set to come out in February 2009. Her blog miraculous sprung to life the day after Michelle first used those words in August 2008. I'm sure this other MIC is a perfectly fine writer with a perfectly nice book, and fantastic connections (apparently) in the publishing industry. Do I sound bitter?

I suppose I wouldn't be filled with disdain for her if I was having a smoother transition from writer to author. I just don't understand how you go from concept to published book in six months flat. If I did, my book would have hit the market 18 months ago. In the meantime, I'm still working, still researching agents, still feeling optimistic, although ever-so-slightly annoyed. I am still confident, however, that my project will eventually reach the people who need it. At least I wasn't planning on calling my book Mother in Chief. At least my book isn't about balancing a career with parenthood. Then I'd probably be really, really annoyed.

You're always 95 percent done

The art of writing seems too fluid to ever be set in stone. And that makes my job difficult. I keep editing. And editing. And editing. Every time I read my book proposal, I tweak a sentence here. I add some color there. I rearrange something in the table of contents. I can't imagine there will be a time when I read it, and I don't see a single word that should be replaced with a better, more appropriate word. But if I continue with this line of thinking (and editing), I will never, ever send this proposal out to agents. I will never move past this fluid phase.

My talented husband said that as with software development, a project is always 95 percent finished. But you need to pick end dates so that you can actually ship the product. That same theory should be applied to this proposal as well. Letting the calendar dictate my end-date seemed like the perfect way to help me move past this editing phase. As a result, my new deadline is Saturday, April 5. That gives me one more week to tweak, edit, add, delete, paste, and perfect before I stop.

I know a big part of my hesitation is just the idea of putting my words and ideas out there. The idea of moving into the uncomfortable phase where strangers will cut it down, move things around, and ask for revisions is daunting. But I believe in myself, and I believe in my project. I need to remember that a year ago, the idea of writing a business plan for my book was daunting. But I did it. And I know I will do this too because I know that ultimately, all those revisions, all that criticism, and all that outside feedback will make it even better.

A holiday party pick-me-up

If you're ever feeling discouraged about the project you're working on, I highly recommend going to a party so that a bunch of friends, strangers, and acquaintances can rally behind you and tell you how great you're doing. It sure worked for me.

A few days before Christmas, we went to Aspiring Writer Friend's annual White Elephant holiday party. As I was sliding into my slinky cocktail dress, I realized it was exactly one year ago that I started telling people about my book project. I announced during the party a year earlier that I had hoped to write the whole book in 2007. I realize now that was a lofty goal. But instead of feeling bummed that I didn't meet my goal, I actually feel energized and proud of all the work I have accomplished in the past year. Despite the fact that Preschooler in Chief was hospitalized for two months, I made some real strides. I also was a little naive about the whole book-writing process and didn't realize I should not be writing a book until I had written my proposal. But even with those setbacks and realizations, I managed to write my proposal (which is 27 pages long), and type a rough draft for about half of the book.

If you want to take a glass-half-empty approach, no I didn't write the whole book and no I didn't published anything in Brain, Child magazine (another one of my 2007 goals that went unachieved). But I prefer the glass-half-full approach where I can celebrate my accomplishments and feel proud of the work that I have done. I did write and submit an essay to Brain, Child, even if it wasn't accepted. And I did write a huge chunk of my book. And talking with people who were genuinely excited about my book was a huge boost. They really helped me see how far I had come. One woman even talked about how she couldn't wait to see my book in the window of a bookstore someday and how she was excited for the book-release party! I definitely had not allowed my brain to get that far ahead of myself, but it was fun to have so many people believe in me, to feel excited about my project, and to basically give me a gust of energy.

I also had an opportunity to have lunch with my friend and published author, Courtney Macavinta, a couple of weeks back. Her advice was sound and her encouragement was contagious. I feel fortunate to have so many people in my life cheering me on. It's humbling and motivating. As I get ready to launch myself into 2008, I'm ready to take the next step of finding the right agent. It's a little daunting, but I'm not afraid. And I haven't forgotten about my Brain, Child goal either. I've decided to resubmit my essay now that it's 75 percent shorter than it was originally. They publish more 1,000-word essays than 4,000-word essays. What's the worst that can happen? They reject me? That's not so bad. It just means I need to keep trying. I know how to do that.

An emotional trifecta

Some of my recent posts have given the impression to some concerned readers that I might be depressed. I might be. But I think I'll blame my emotional prose on all the book-writing I've accomplished recently (which drudges up a lot of feelings), on this time of year (a little old-fashioned seasonal-affective disorder), and the fact that I'm just about done nursing Baby in Chief (a hormonal whack-job, to say the least). Each of those issues alone can create a lot of stress. But they are all coming at the same time, unfortunately.

Yes, this is a lovely time of year with all the festive music and the lights and promise of packages and sprinkle-covered cookies. All of that goodness holds the promise of mountainous highs. At the same time, it also can bring on chest-crushing lows. I'm really looking forward to the arrival of family--the family we regretfully did not spend Thanksgiving with due to the 2,500 miles separating our houses. The anticipation of their arrival, the joy of a family holiday is exciting. But then there is the added responsibility. The extra responsibility of ordering the holiday cards, writing notes on and sending the holiday cards, picking out the right gifts, wrapping the gifts, mailing the gifts, decorating the house, baking festive goodies. All that stuff is piled on top of all the regular responsibilities of parenthood, of being married, of running a household.

I know I'm not the only one with this extra long to-do list, but toss in the hormones and all the feelings I'm revisiting as I write my book and whammo. I'm not complaining. It's just nice to know that there are actual reasons for me feeling so off. Then again, I guess it could be a teeny bit of depression. Last weekend I read online: It's not my problems making me depressed, it's my depression making me depressed.

I sort of like thinking about things that way. Maybe instead of feeling overwhelmed by the piles of toys, the sink full of dishes, the car full of wrappers, or the holiday shopping, I'll just blame that overwhelmed feeling on my depression. Thinking of it that way actually takes the pressure off a bit. It's nice to have a scapegoat, even if it's an artificial one.

Jumping over my writer's block

If showing up is 98 percent of success, then just starting to write has to be a solid way to get over writer's block. Write anything. Write everything. Just as long as you're writing.

And that's what I've been doing, and I'm kicking my book proposal into shape and it's actually starting to look like the book proposal of someone who knows what they are doing. If I can just convince part of my brain that I actually can successfully write a book proposal--an ultimately a book--then that has got be the hardest part of getting through this rough patch. And even if the rest of my brain is skeptical, I just need part of me to believe in me. I'm certain that my own fear of failure has to be the most significant part of my writer's block. But I refuse to be defeated. I've armed myself with some how-to books and I'm writing and writing and writing. Some of it is garbage (and that is all part of the process), but at least I'm making progress in the right direction.

I think one of the things that helped me was that I did an image search on Google for "published author." My blog is in the process of being redesigned and I wanted to get some ideas for how to visually say writer/author without using an old typewriter, like I did when I ordered my official business cards a couple of years ago. And the search results showed a lot of people who look less capable than I do of writing a book. And so I thought, if all of these people have published books, then I most certainly am capable of publishing a book too.

Standing still or left behind

I'm tired. I'm grouchy. I'm underwhelmed with parenting and overwhelmed with all of its responsibilities. I'm sure part of it just some of the ebbs and flows of having two small kids. Part of it is having too few breaks and too little help. Part of it is feeling left behind.

I think of Therapist Friend who managed to create an amazing part-time private practice. I think of City Planner Friend who seems to have been able to be promoted all while having a part-time schedule (it wasn't clear for a while if a part-time schedule would preclude her from achieving that goal). I think of Colorist Friend who gets to decide what colors will be in fashion in the seasons to come.

Then there's me. I'm wrangling with my two kids. I can't wait for it to be dinnertime so that Father in Chief comes home to give me some parental relief. Instead of totally enjoying the moment, I'm waiting for this moment to be over because it's so hard or exhausting. I never used to be that person. I don't get up and feel energized and ready to take on a new day, a new set of challenges.

Those friends seem to have figured it out. They work, they parent. They are moving on with their lives. So what is wrong with me? I haven't figured it out yet. I'm feeling bummed because I didn't land that freelance assignment for that publication I never heard of--that I didn't want anyway. I'm feeling exhausted because Preschooler in Chief has been an incredibly annoying four year old that I don't enjoy being around. I'm feeling overwhelmed because Baby in Chief never stops moving or putting things in his mouth. I'm feeling discouraged because CraigsList is a crappy place to find a childcare provider. I'm. Just. Plain. Tired. When does that stop exactly? Are there different vitamins I should be taking?

I need to remind myself that my friends who seem to have figured it out only have one kid. Having two kids is really hard work. Especially after you are used to just having one kid who sleeps through the night and can feed himself and can drink out of a cup and use the bathroom by himself. Starting over is hard--whether it's parenting or working. Despite having a year of experience under my belt with two kids (yup, BIC is having a birthday next week), I haven't figured it out. Maybe I just need to get over the fact that he is a very different kid from his brother. Many of the parenting skills I have are for a different type of kid. I guess I need new skills. As for the working part, I haven't figured that out either. I've equipped myself with the tools to produce a solid book proposal. I've skimmed the books, sloshed some ideas around my brain on what some sections might actually say when I get time to start typing up the proposal.

Maybe my goals and deadlines are too optimistic. Maybe I'm setting myself up to fail. Basically, I need to stop comparing myself to other people, all those people who are my age who have already published a book. Those people who are so perky and organized. And successful. I'll get there. I guess I need to remind myself that it's been a tough year.

I've run out of excuses--shit!

I'm about to venture out into the land of the living, the land of the working, the land of laptops and lattes. I hired childcare yesterday--just 10 hours a week--and while I'm totally excited, I'm a little worried about actually having the time to work. It's a lot of pressure. I know it doesn't make any sense. But recently, it's been so easy to not work because it's really impossible to work when you have a wee one pulling at the power cords under the desk and another one constantly demanding food and attention. But once the childcare starts, what excuse will I have?

I guess I have some fear and it is twofold--fear of failure (can I actually write a book?) and fear of rejection (will anyone want to publish my book?). I guess there are some other fears in there too... Am I organized enough to write a book? Am I organized enough to write the proposal? Will an agent want to represent me? I know I'm getting a little ahead of myself, and I will try to not let the potential downers thwart my enthusiasm for my project. There is much work to do. And with most of my writing, I will give a piece of myself away as I write and write and write. But saturating my work with myself does not necessarily equal success. I can still feel the rejection from my recent submission to from Brain, Child magazine, and it feels about as good as sunburn.

Regardless, I will push forward. I will persevere. I will feel good about working towards a goal that I believe in. And I'll try to remember that getting burned is something that happens sometimes when you venture out into the sun.

My new part-time job

The best way ensure success with my book project is to treat it as an actual job. Not some extra-curricular activity. Not time when I'm doing other important stuff, like building "roads" out of Play-Doh so that the Matchbox cars can get "stuck" in the "mud." I need to set myself up for success. This means carving out hours that I need to work. Every. Single. Day. Or at least three days a week. If I want to accomplish this, I need to treat it with the respect and attention it deserves. I love Sarah's idea of hiring a nanny, but there's something about that that seems decadent. But, again, this isn't a treat so that I can lounge around. This is so that I can work!

Yes, part of my hesitation is that feeling that hiring help is a decadence. Another part is that I have a hard time relinquishing control of my kids' lives. What they learn. Who they are learning from. This is partially why it took me so long to enroll Preschooler in Chief in preschool. When it's just me, I get to be the primary source of the things that fills my kids' heads. What songs they sing. What toys stimulate their brains. How they talk with other people. I guess I'm a bit of a control freak.

You see, since PIC started school, he has definitely picked up some new behaviors. His favorite new expression is, "No Fair!" He must either working through some frustrations of being in a new environment or just totally exhausted at the end of the day. The result is not fun. My mother in law, who is a preschool teacher in New York, emailed some thoughts:

My first inclination is to think he is seeing other behavior and he is modeling it...Either that, or the whole preschool experience is overwhelming or exciting him too much and he does not know how to come down after all the excitement...[S]ometimes kids start being obnoxious at home with parents after the first few weeks of school. They act like they are in charge.

That is most certainly happening here. And I wonder if hiring help for some of the other time would exacerbate the problem. Still, something's gotta give if my grand plan is going to come together. I just don't want it to happen at the expense of my kid's sanity. Although not pursuing my goals will definitely impact my sanity. And subsequently, my kids.

Where to stash the puny humans

Most of my writing happens when the kiddos are tucked under their comfy blankets dreaming about fuzzy puppies, sprinkle-covered ice cream cones, and dump trucks. Actually, those are Preschooler in Chief’s dreams. I imagine that Baby in Chief’s dreams are more simplistic: his favorite boob, his favorite position for nursing on his favorite boob, and how much fun it is to chomp on his favorite boob with his new tooth.

But it has come to my attention that there is more to creating a book than just the writing part. It seems that there is quite a bit of other stuff. Father in Chief stopped by the local library yesterday and picked up a few tattered how-to manuals on getting a book published. The take-away is this: there is a lot of work to do. I feel confident in my abilities to get the actual writing part of the book done. But writing a book is just one tiny part. It may very well be the easy part, as far as I’m concerned.

All that other stuff… the market research, the queries, the proposals, agents, the back and forth, well, it’s a bit daunting. Especially since much of it involves doing stuff during the day when I’m busy with my full-time job—parenting. Some of that other stuff will require that I go out during daylight hours. It means that I need to do something with those kids. This isn’t 1975, and so it is no longer acceptable to leave the kids locked in the car for extended periods of time, even if the windows are cracked open for fresh air. It is not acceptable to leave them at home alone while they are napping. And it is not acceptable to put duct tape over their question-filled mouths while I sip a frothy latte at the bookstore. Ahem, I mean while I conduct serious research. While I thumb through the titles at the bookstore—titles that have nothing to do with fuzzy puppies, sprinkle-covered ice cream cones, and dump trucks.

I’m sure Baby in Chief would tolerate my research for about 15 minutes while he amuzed himself with his hands, but then he’d want me to actually interact with him. And that would never do. I need to be able to do this work unencumbered by the puny humans in my life. So a small mental setback while I figure out where to stash them for a couple hours a week. I want to work on all the pieces needed to successfully publish my book, not just the easy part. Sure I can and will do some of the research online, but the bookstore is a good place to be when you aspire to have some of your work there someday, as I do.

Book recommendations?

Last night, Father in Chief and I were wandering around some bookstores and I spent a lot of time in the writing/publishing section. I was reading about finding an agent, writing a book proposal, and the publishing industry in general. There were so many choices. It was a bit overwhelming for someone who has no knowledge in this area. I feel confident in my writing skills, but I've never had to think about this other stuff before. Before I committed to buying anything, I figured I'd go peruse my local library's offerings. Then once I find the ones I really like, I'll get my own copies to smudge up and fill with book darts. Getting Your Book Published for Dummies probably would have been a good place to start.

Any recommendations?

In the meantime I'm going to write. FIC is out of the house. And he took Preschooler in Chief with him, leaving the house filled with a lovely sound: silence. I realize that rare sound will be filled with whimpers and giggles as soon as Baby in Chief wakes up from his nap. But for the time being, I'm going to relish the moment and get down to work. I'm feeling so energized with this project and my hope is that I can hang onto that feeling even when writing becomes difficult, as it does at times. It's a craft of ebbs and flows, so I will do some writing instead of napping, which would be another fine--although less productive way--to enjoy the silence.

Facing my wreckage

It seems like whenever I have time to write, I find that there are so many other really important things to do, like organizing the silverware drawer or scrubbing out the diaper bin. Ah, procrastination. I remember in college, my room or apartment would get a good one-over if I had a paper I should have been be working on.

Anyway, I'm feeling a bit blue because January is half over and I haven't done any actual writing on the book. There have been lots of blog posts, reading, but nothing on the book. Actually, that's not totally true. I have done some organizing of ideas and some editing here and there, but just not actual writing. It's hard to sit down to write because it's just such deeply personal stuff that focuses on really tough times over the past couple of years. I know I haven't really disclosed what my book is about, but let's just say it is a non-fiction book that pulls from personal experience.

As a result, this writing process sort of reminds me of picking up a nasty piece of old wood you come across when you're hiking in a damp forest. You're intrigued to see what's under there because there is always funky stuff under and old wet log, but it's often a bit disturbing to see the worms and fungus and centipedes and other grubby creatures that live under there. Some of it isn't pretty and it can make people turn away in disgust--just like the stuff hibernating in my brain.

I know I'm excited to write this book. It's a huge relief to have identified the topic and format for my book. But then there is the actual writing part, the part that involves thinking and working and pulling those emotions from my brain--those emotions and feelings I've so desperately tried to get away from--to the forefront. It's scary to go in and find out what is really in there.