My Elf Pen

I love pens. Even though I do most of my writing on the computer, I love writing implements. Along with other office supplies. Sometimes I wish I could set up a business just to buy all kind of colorful office supplies. At the beginning of the school year I used to buy an 8 pack of Pilot colored gel pens. Used to.

Years ago, my dear sister-in-law sent me one of her random and much beloved box of gifts. She knows what I like. One box contained a small pen that came with several ink refills. See the video (I had to use a flip cam and don't know how to edit a snapshot). Anyway, a year or two ago, the ink finally ran out and I put in a refill and it didn't work. Well, today I tried again, spit on the point and it worked. Go figure. Anyway, I'm happy to have my "elf" pen working again. It's the little things.

Must blog more

Working writers--as in those being paid to write--are supposed to blog now and facebook and twitter. I'll try to get intentional about the blog but I doubt many people want to know what I had for lunch--dried out wheat tortilla wrapped around cheese and called a burrito in the school cafeteria. Besides, who has time? "Class, write 500 words while I figure out how to send this tweet on my cell phone. Can my phone even do that? Can somebody help me?"

We're supposed to build a platform--make mine a diving one on a lake in Maine, please. And an audience. Well, I'll try. So when you finally finish your novel that you work in around your real life, and you approach a publisher you can say, "I have a built in audience of a kabillion followers of Facebook and Twitter and my blog.

Well. I'll try. Even though it takes away time from real writing.

I'd write more but I want to get back to my real writing because I have to go back to my real job tomorrow. I hope I can remember what I'd write about if I didn't want to write.

One more for 2010

I'm usually not sad to see a year go. I don't think I've ever had a really good one. Maybe I'm too picky and set my expectations too high.

Lets' see, 2010 bright spots:

I survived the 09/10 school year. Holy cats. I saw the gang/fighter girl from LA that we got in April in the office-in trouble and a bunch of names from last year in our team from last year show up on the Saturday school list. Make me feel better that my partner and I aren't the only ones who couldn't do anything with these lost children in a classroom setting.

Keith celebrated his second year at Wal-Mart.

I'm still in remission.

I finished my first novel except for some revisions.

Dull/dim/dark spots:

Keith totaled the car in Feb. But we did buy 96 olds cash so now we have no car payments so that's okay

Our AC unit died and took the heat pump with it so now it's really cold in the house. In Sept. it was really hot but we lived in the back of the house with window units.

I was told I really stink as a teacher (not in those words, or course) and if I don't get better I'm out. More on that later.

Another health problem--BLOOD CLOTS dun dun duhhhnnnnn

A biggie-I messed up my contract when I signed it in '09 and only got 23 pays and missed July's mortgage and got more behind trying to live with their repayment plan...

And I had to take a pay cut (furlough days they call it). We'll see what kind of pay cut I end up with at the end of this year...

Next time--hopes and dreams for 2011

Oh Crap

So, I suck as a teacher. In like the worst state in the union for education, I could very well be fired from my teaching job. Specifically, not have my contract renewed. Or I could resign. I'm not sure either would qualify me for unemployment benefits. Unless, I fully cooperate with the help I am to receive and fail anyway. Which is a distinct possibility.

I completely concur with my evaluation. And I do believe the administrator is being generous by only calling out two areas where I need help. It could easily be more.

I'm a smart woman. The kids like me. But I have trouble managing 30+ well. There are things the district requires in lessons and to be evident when they come in for walk throughs like formative assessments and higher level thinking (lots of kids have a hard time thinking--not because they are stupid but because they haven't been trained like that) and maybe because developmentally, they're not there yet. I don't know how to manage all that and lots of times I just feel like my brain is not set up to handle it. There's this gap between what I should be able to do and being able to do it. Maybe I don't quite understand what-although I think it makes sense or how to get planned and out to the kids. I don't know. Maybe I don't know what I don't know or don't understand. Maybe it's just the gap that's always existed between me and pragmatism. Or maybe it's a gap in my understanding or what they want me to do to begin with.

I don't want to sound like I'm bitching. I'm just terribly frustrated and not only with work. We're working on getting or mortgage remodified so we don't go into foreclosure, although that is appealing in some ways. How else are we going to be free of this house that is worth about half of what we are paying for it? It needs a new AC/heat unit-$5000. Our credit sucks. We drive one old car. We have medical bills out the wazoo--not that much compared to others, but they're hard to pay when you're trying to keep you electricity on.

Sometimes I wonder what is the point? We work--yes, we are fortunate we both have jobs--but it seems like we are further behind than ever. I really have no hope of ever catching up, breaking even. God forbid we should ever get ahead a little.

And when it comes down to it, I love the kids but I'm not sure I'm cut out to be a teacher. This is my fifth year and I don't feel much better as a professional than I did on day 1. But the practical side of me says it's the only thing I have training to do (all be it suckily). The other side says this could be the way out, it might be time to pursue something creative--like writing! But the other side says we'll be homeless in no time.

Would it be the end of the world if I lost my job? No, not the world. Just the end of my health insurance that pays for my cancer treatment. It might be a way to test if I'm in remission for good, right?

I want to be able to trust God in all this, but honestly, it's hard. Things have been getting harder for us the past few years, physically and otherwise and we've been trying to remain faithful. Does God have something better down the line on this side of heaven? Does he even care? Can't he cut us a break?

There are so many thoughts and feelings churning around inside me now. Maybe I'll get them straightened out as I write about them.

If anyone reads this and wants to comment, you can message me on facebook. But please, no trite "God had a plan" stuff. I'm sick of that. I need insight, suggestions, success stories, places to look for resources. In case the job doesn't work out.

NaNoWriMo

Yes, National Novel Writing Month. If you ever thought you wanted to write a book, this is for you. Thirty days of literary abandon. 50,000 words in 30 days. Turn off you inner editor. Writeordie.

This is my third year. In 2008, I wrote my first novel, slightly over 50,000 words titled A Box of Rain, named after one of my favorite Grateful Dead songs. I joined a critique group a few months later and didn't get laughed out after my first submission. It was fun to write and edit. I created an alternate ending that morphed into it's own book, Another Place on the Planet. I just finished it--for the second time although it still needs much editing and revising. I hope to submit it for publication by, lets say, the end of 2011. On top of that, I have about 1000 pages and scores of scenes which will hopefully find their ways into sequels. I love the characters, I really do.

in 2009, My Nano Novel was The C Word Can Make You Cry. I don't really like that title anymore, but... I cheated a little on it. Last year on Nov. 29, I had about 400 words left to write and I was so tired and having a bit of trouble with the end so I said, "I'll finish tomorrow. What can possibly keep me from it?" and went to bed. A lesson in hubris. I left work early the next day with severe abdominal pain and midnight approached on that Nov. 30, I thought, "Oh, I didn't finish. Oh, I feel too crappy to write, no biggie if I don't finish and win." But it was. So, I borrowed a few pages from Another Place--it was all written that month--and copied and pasted and had my 50,000 words. And won. And went to the hospital.

This year my novel is called Subculture. It's actually an idea I got for Another Place, a movie the MCs were making. It's going a little slow. I'm only at 31,000 and should be at like 40,000. Yikes! But five days off is upon me. I can only write any kind of volume with Write or Die, a website where you select a word amount and a time and if you stop typing the screen turns red and annoying sounds go off. Otherwise, I write, but take lots of time to think or pluck my eyebrows or go on Facebook or clean off my key board with an artist's paintbrush. I have ideas. Have several choices for the ending. Guess I'll just choose one. Can always change it.

So, novel writing wasn't enough and in April, I did ScriptFrenzy, by the same fine folks that bring you NaNoWriMo, the Office of Letters and Light. 100 pages of sreenplay in 30 days. I did much reading about screenwriting, joined a website and started following blogs by Hollywood script readers. I figure selling a spec screenplay has the odds of winning the lottery without buying a ticket and getting struck by lightening on the same day, but with a whole lot of work going in before hand. If nothing else, I'm learning to appreciate the art of film more, like playing an instrument helps you appreciate music. Plus, I save time and money avoiding movies I know I'll hate. Novel writing and screenwriting are two different forms and while certain understandings apply to each, it's important to not get the two mixed up while writing, especially the screenplay.

My April script was based on the third book (drafted but unwritten) of Another Place. I finished in plenty of time and started to edit it, where it remains until this day. I go back to it and diddle around from time to time. I also started one based on The C Word.

So, two years ago, I began writing and haven't stopped. I gave up watching TV and crafting because I do that when i watch TV. One bad thing is I don't read as much, except books about writing. It wasn't hard to give up cooking and cleaning because I never did much of those things. If only I could give up my day job...

Remission Confirmed

The last time I went to the oncologist almost a month ago, I was depressed for a few reasons, not just the leukemia i have. Money was a big thing, my husband another and the frustrations of living with a head injured man. The PA was very sympathetic, listened to my teary whining, telling me things I already knew, that my disease is chronic and mostly just a pain in the butt.

The tests from last time said what they said the other time, that there is no detectable leukemia in my blood. I had a good, quick response to the outrageously priced medication and may even be able to come off it permanently in the future. If only!

So, I do feel lucky in that way a cancer survivor can feel lucky. It's my second kind of cancer and with neither one did I need chemo or radiation or any kind of nasty treatment. I'm about as functional as I've ever been which has always varied, it seems to me. I don't need to go back to the onc. until April--six months.

I read this week that Jill Clayburgh, the actress from the 70s died recently from chronic leukemia. The article didn't specify which one, but it was like a slap in the face, or at least a dead leg. You know, when someone bumps the back of your knee with theirs and yours buckles for a split second. Like, whoa. I didn't really need to know that. It said she'd been living with it for over two decades. If i have that long, it will put me in my 70s. Not a bad run.

I still don't know how one dies from leukemia. I keep forgetting to ask my onc. or look it up. I think I'll forget again now and go back to my Nano novel.

A room

We bought our house almost four years ago. We looked at a few in the town we settled in, Youngtown, Arizona. It was the only place were we could afford a single family dwelling other than condos. Now, I know we should have waited, but, oh well.

Most of the places were empty and needed more work that we could afford to put into them. One place had a horrible feeling to it. A spiritual oppression. Even Jonas, our realtor felt it and mentioned it before I did. I don't know if everybody has the ability to discern the feel or spirit of a place. I do. This place just grabbed me by the throat had squeezed.

I don't remember where it is, what it looked like, nothing I was interested in even if it didn't feel like Satan's fold-out couch. I hate to think what happened there.

There was one room, however, that was different. A different feel, a different look. The block walls were off-white but had a colonial blue color rubbed on so the blocks were outlined. I remember speckles of red, too. Just a little, but maybe I'm wrong about that. Unlike the rest of the place, it looked like someone tried to care.

It had a bed, made up in a dark blue spread, old, but the bed was neat. On one side, near the foot, was a pile of three books. One looked like a journal and another was a Bible, a paperback version, like the occupant or past occupant staged that one room only and wanted to leave a message.

It's one of those mysteries I wish I could have answered in this lifetime. Who made the bed, staged the books like a magazine photo? All I can imagine is that the person was female. What she had endured there, in that oppressive place, I don't know. But I liked to think she wanted to leave some hope in that place that held the opposite.