Free-For-All Fridays

A Round of Applause for the Visual Arts

On Wednesday, I mentioned that it took a long time for me to discover/realize/admit I had any type of creativity inside me. Acknowledging that my writing had any artistic value took a little longer. There’s one thing, though, that remains an unchanging truth.

I can’t draw.

Add to that the fact that I can’t paint, sculpt, or do anything else under the umbrella of visual arts. My brother and sister got that talent. When we started playing DrawSomething against each other, I figured my attempts would be pitiful next to theirs. (Fortunately, phone-sized touchscreens are the great equalizer.)

It’s not one of my strengths, and I’m okay with that. I think it’s helped me appreciate those who do have talents in that area.

You know who doesn’t appreciate the talent and hard work required? Those clients featured on Clients From Hell. Seriously. As the sister of a graphic designer, I find it mind-boggling.

To counter those non-appreciators, here’s some appreciation. Once upon a time, I taught an eighth-grade girl named Lynn some math. Fast forward about a decade, and we got back in touch. She doesn’t draw professionally, just doodles for fun, but that doesn’t stop me from following her Tumblr religiously.

Have you seen the Hatchet Cat featured on Mindy McGinnis’s Saturday Slash query critiques? Yeah, Lynn drew that.

So, for Lynn, my siblings, and everyone else who can draw things that make me go ♡♥♡, I raise my glass (of root beer) to you!

Speak up:

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Looking for Love in All the Lame Places

I’m admittedly picky about reality television. It’s a mixed bag, as I’m sure anyone who’s glanced at any would agree. I like talent-based shows (America’s Got Talent, So You Think You Can Dance?) and competitions like The Amazing Race. That last one sometimes devolves into drama and pettiness, which I’m not so crazy about. I’ve only watched a couple of seasons of Survivor for the same reason.

For me (my personality, disposition, whatever), the absolute worst are the dating shows.

Full disclosure: I’ve never actually watched so much as a single episode of The Bachelor. My opinion is based entirely on commercials and listening to other people talk about the shows. It’s been more than enough for me. Every time I see those commercials, I find myself yelling at the TV.

And there are so many of them now. Love in the Wild (dating show meets Survivor). Take Me Out. The Choice (dating show meets The Voice … clearly).

I might’ve been interested in Beauty and the Geek if they’d made it hot guys and a brainy girl. Maybe. A friend in college claimed if you pay attention to wedding announcement photos, the guy and gal are either equally attractive or the girl is distinctly better looking. So seeing that flipped around could have at least intrigued me.

With this many shows, though, clearly people are interested. There’s a reason for the popularity. Something I can’t see, I guess. Is it seeing the shallow interplay, mocking it, or is there something more?

If any of you are fans and can enlighten me, I’d love to hear about it.

Are there things that are popular with others and you just don’t understand?

Speak up:

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Being Proud or Keeping Others from Feeling Bad?

When I was in junior high, they tried doing this “character education” program with us once a week. I don’t remember much of it, other than that we all thought it was lame, and it talked about self-esteem a lot. The message that came across was that we should all be proud of ourselves no matter what.

Personally, I’ve never found that approach effective. Saying everyone should feel good about themselves is empty, hollow, meaningless. It sure didn’t work for me. What does work? Encouraging kids to do something they can be proud of, perhaps. Helping them accomplish those things. Emphasizing pride in things of more intrinsic value (like accomplishing something through hard work) than extrinsic (like being the most popular kid in school).

This week, I heard about some events at recent high school graduations. Four seniors have to complete twenty hours of community service before getting their diplomas, because their family and friends cheered when their names were called during the ceremony. I thought the no-cheering rule was odd and surely an isolated thing, but no. A graduate’s mother was arrested for supposedly cheering too much for her daughter.

From what I’ve read, the reasoning behind the anti-cheering (or anti-excessive-cheering) ceremonies is that in the past, some families have carried on so much that the following students’ names couldn’t even be heard, or delayed the ceremony by refusing to settle down for several minutes. Maybe that’s true. Maybe it’s been a problem in some places. (But arresting the mom? Really?)

At the same time, part of me suspects there’s a bit more beneath. Could it be that these rules are so some kids don’t feel bad that they get less cheering than some of their classmates? I don’t know. But I think it’s possible.

I just attended a graduation a week ago. It was unusual. The state governor was the speaker. The graduating class consisted of just ten kids. Most of the ceremony was in ASL, with interpreters over the sound system, so “not hearing” something wasn’t an issue. Anyone could cheer as much as they wanted.

So I thought back to my own graduation. I was in a graduating class of several hundred. The graduation was held in a university arena. They cranked through our names fairly quickly. Some kids had loud and enthusiastic cheering sections, but I’m pretty sure the sound system beat them out.

Then, when some girl I didn’t even know had her turn to walk across, half of the arena erupted. It didn’t make sense. Then I found out why.

This had just happened:

John Stockton had to feel pretty proud of himself. Deservedly so.

And I didn’t need my family to cheer that loudly for me to know they were proud of me.

What’s your take on self-esteem? How do we encourage kids to develop it without making it empty and meaningless?

Speak up:

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R.C. and the Terrible/Wonderful, No-Good/Very-Rad Day

Wednesday, May 23rd was the most awesome bad day ever. Emphasis on the “awesome,” seriously. Hang with me, and you’ll see what I mean. First …

Some of you know, I’ve been on the job hunt for a while now. As much as I love my current job, I feel I need to relocate closer to family. In fact, I made confirmed plans to leave … without having landed a new job yet. Leap of faith? Oh, yeah.

Also, if you’ve been around the blog at all the past few months, you know I was involved in a contest called The Writer’s Voice. This meant Monday (the 21st), my entry was up on my coach’s blog, available for any of the eight participating agents to place a vote.

I got five votes, which meant five full requests. I also got some requests from lurking agents and queries I’d sent the week before. Lots of yay!

I had a week and a half left of school. Finals to prep for, paperwork to complete, a classroom to pack up. Plus I had preparations for moving (despite having no job) soon after the end of school. Lots of stress.

Wednesday promised to be busy. I had a phone interview for a prospective job during my morning prep time. It went well. Really well. I even had a little time afterwards before my next class, so I got things squared away and glanced at my email.

One of the agents from Monday had already finished reading the full and wanted to know if there was a time for us to talk.

Cue the out-of-body experience.

After a little back-and-forth email, we agreed she’d call at 7:00 that evening. Then I threw myself into getting my physics students ready for their final. Then another job interview (this one on Skype) during lunch. It went well, too. My afternoon prep hour held a mix of “holy crap, am I really talking to an agent tonight?” texting with my critique partner (thanks, Mindy!) and wrangling some sub plans for my 7th period, because I would be on an interview panel for a candidate to replace me at my current school.

6th period went pretty well—always good to have students keeping me busy and distracted. But, the time for the interview comes around, and no sub shows up. I check with the other math teacher, who was also going to the interview. No sub for him either. Some back and forth with the secretary, already late … finally one sub shows up to watch both classes. I knew nothing mathematical would happen, but whatever.

Interview was solid, but a little long because the candidate was technically interviewing for two different positions. It was Wednesday, which at my school meant staying until 5:00. Good thing, because I had plenty to do, like getting my calculus final ready for the next day.

The clock hit five, and I was out the door. Except I passed a classroom where a few teacher-friends were chatting, and they called at me to wait. Vicki wanted to know when we could have a little get-together before I left town (love you, Vicki!). I promised to let them know as soon as I had my schedule worked out, Jill gave me a cupcake (<3), and I was off again. I hit the road just before 5:15, and my afternoon commute takes about an hour. No problem. Five minutes later, wall-to-wall cars. NO!

It was okay, though. A delay of no more than ten minutes due to one of the traffic lights flashing red, creating a four-way stop during rush hour. On I went to the freeway.

Ten minutes later, gridlock.

Gridlock in a town that never has gridlock.

Stop-and-go traffic. A section that normally takes three minutes took twenty. Then it flowed a little more through a section that was being resurfaced.

Math-teacher me couldn’t stop looking at the clock, calculating how many minutes I still had to spare. I’d be okay, just barely.

Once through the construction and back to regular speeds, I forced myself to take calm, relaxing breaths, because I knew I’d have no time for that once I got home. I walked in my door at 6:52. Got settled and situated.

She called. We talked for over an hour. At the end, an offer of representation.

That’s right. AN OFFER!

Naturally, I asked for a week to notify the other agents with the manuscript. Everyone promised to read quickly. Then there were new requests. I didn’t need new requests! Too many variables! But okay. By end of the week, I’d had a total of eleven requests, one turning into the offer, one bowing out, and one arranging to call the following Tuesday.

Oh, and the first interview I had Wednesday morning? They offered me the job, and I accepted. My relocation is a leap of faith no more.

Tuesday involved no fewer than four phone calls with agents and further offers. Serious quandary. All five offering agents are amazing. Much hashing-it-out-with-Mindy ensued. Finally, I made my decision and accepted one of the offers—from the agent who offered first, it turned out.

So, here’s the important part.

Too bad, I’m doing it anyway.

I am now represented by the marvelous Jennifer Laughran of Andrea Brown Literary Agency. But most of you already knew that.

I suspect the real work is about to begin.

Speak up:

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Hazards of the Blame Game

This is kind of an extension of my prior post on accepting responsibility. Blaming others is probably built into our genetic code. Little kids certainly pick up the skill quickly. They don’t even have to be talking yet—they can just point at their sibling.

I teach teenagers, so I see it plenty. A student’s grade is slipping, they’re not doing what they’re supposed to in class, and there are a thousand reasons for it. None of them acknowledging that maybe they bear some responsibility and control for their own academic fate.

Actually, since I’ve taught a lot of the same kids over several years, I’ve been able to see them grow and mature. I’ve seen them go through this transition to understanding, “Yeah, there are some factors I can’t control, but my own decisions have the biggest impact on my life.” It’s very cool to see that change.

Not everyone gets there, though, even in adulthood.

A number of people I know are currently pregnant. I admit, #blamethefetus tweets are frequently amusing, so I’m not saying any hint of “blaming” someone/something is going to make my head explode. Even less humorous blaming can be okay once in a while. Sometimes you need to blow off steam. Sometimes something really is someone else’s fault.

The not one but TWO traffic jams I had to get through on Wednesday after school, for instance. Definitely someone else’s fault, definitely preventable, and definitely annoyed me. A lot.

But … when we’re looking at something that’s not going right, trying to figure out why, and we look at everyone except ourselves, we have a problem. If we’re the ones to blame (even partially), we’ll be blind to it, and we’ll likely miss opportunities to FIX IT.

I mean, hey, who doesn’t want their life to go better?

Not getting the promotion we want at work? Maybe there’s discrimination or favoritism going on. Or maybe we aren’t working as hard or as well as some others.

Not getting requests with our queries, or not getting anywhere with submissions? Maybe trends in the market aren’t lining up. Or maybe we can improve the story and writing in some way.

Do you catch yourself blaming others when you shouldn’t? Has it gotten you in trouble? Do particular iterations of the Blame Game annoy you more than others?

Speak up:

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Write What You Know, Pt 2: Diversity Edition

Last month, I posted about writing what you know, or more specifically, knowing vs. experiencing and the necessary levels of each. With the situation I had in mind at the time, I have to believe it’s possible to write authentically without experiencing firsthand. (If not, I’ve got problems.)

Today, I’m thinking about a different situation. In this case, I still think it’s possible to write it well without firsthand experience, but the closer you can get to the source in your “research,” the better.

The situation is writing from an ethnic or cultural perspective that is not your own.

Clearly it can’t be necessary for us to share backgrounds with our protagonists. If it were, women could only write female protagonists. No one could write from the POV of anyone older than they were. Way too limiting, to the point of being ridiculous.

But how do we do the research to make sure our characters are culturally authentic?

As I mentioned in the other post, two of my novels have deaf characters. In the first, it’s not the POV character, but the almost-as-important sister. Honestly, I didn’t dare attempt a deaf POV at that point. I’d been teaching at a deaf school for three years at the time, but I didn’t feel ready. (It turned out that I think my POV choice was the right one regardless, just with who the characters are and where the story needed to go, but that’s another matter.)

For the second novel (which followers of the blog may notice has finally shown up among the tabs at the top), I got brave. My MC is hard-of-hearing, and there are a variety of deaf supporting characters. I felt like I was ready to take it on.

I’m not “in” Deaf culture, but I’ve been pretty well immersed in it for several years now. I’ve seen a lot of viewpoints within it, some of them completely contradictory to each other. I think witnessing and acknowledging the contradictions was the key.

No culture is homogenous any more than a society is homogenous. You can’t say, “All Deaf people are like this,” any more than you can say, “All Chinese people are like that.”

That doesn’t mean you can have a character say and do anything and have it be authentic, though.

Am I talking in circles yet? Feels like it.

Cultures are tricky things. Group history, personalities, individual experiences, family tradition, education … all those things feed into the culture and influence how each person inside experiences it. Individual, unique, yet within certain bounds that offer sameness, that allow a person to say, “Yes, I belong.”

Can you find that in a Google search?

Will you even know to look?

Be honest. How many of you are looking at me funny for capitalizing “Deaf” in some places? How many of you are getting question-mark-face at the way I’m discussing a physical disability alongside cultures like they’re the same thing?

Surely anyone can write a deaf character. Just cut out the sound and add in sign language, right? I might have thought the same before I became acquainted with people on the inside, and learned that Deaf and deaf are two different things.

Do we fall into the same trap with other cultural identities? Do we assume we can write a character from a particular background, when really we haven’t dug deep enough yet to see the nuance and variety within that culture? The push and pull that come from being part of a smaller culture (or more than one) within the larger culture of a particular society?

This is definitely a post where I don’t have answers—just questions. And it’s gone on long enough. I’d love to hear your thoughts.

Speak up:

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