Breaking Radio Silence

Let's see. In the last two weeks, I started teaching three night classes in addition to my full-time job, agreed to take point on a sci/fi anthology, went to St. Louis on a mini-vacation with the husband, injured my ankle on what was supposed to be a 19 mile run (I was a good girl and quit at six), received a broken trophy in the mail, and got a pink tutu (thanks, Aunt Linda!). Highs, lows, and so much in between I can barely breathe.

Studies show a moderate amount of stress is actually can improve job performance. Adrenaline pushes you to work faster and more efficiently. However, cross that line of too much stress and you run the risk of hurting not only your mental and physical health, but your reputation as well! If you take on so much that you can't give 100% to each job, you've said yes to too much.

That's your #1 weakness, Cannon: being able to do so many different things and wanting to keep everyone happy. Well, sorry, old woman, but you're not getting any younger. You can do a lot, but when you start missing appointments and showing up late because you've booked yourself back-to-back with too many meetings, it's time for an intervention. So your blog persona has decided to publicly out you. Quit making promises you can't keep. Quit taking on new projects without finishing the old ones. You're better than this. You need to MAKE time for the important things in your life like your husband and your family. When was the last time you had fun with a group of friends? Yeah, I know. You have to tough it out through the next few months of craziness because you signed your life away on those teaching contracts. You have to keep the promises you've made as best you can. But next semester, girlie girl, if you don't start saying, "no," I'm really gonna get raw in this here public forum and ain't nobody gonna not stop and waggle their finger at you for being thickheaded for a second go-round.

(Don't you hate it when your characters out of control? Yikes! So, I guess the takeaway is balance, Daniel-San, and don't anger the inner warrior. They get snippy on lack of sleep.)

With a Little Help from my Friends

I ran 16 miles today. These shoes. That watch. Witnesses, testaments, proof. Plus my body is a little tired and I'm going to be ravenous all day. Comes with the territory of running 3+ hours and burning over 2,000 calories before 9:00 a.m.

Don't get me wrong. This is not a blog to brag about my running prowess. I nearly didn't make it. Truth be told, I wouldn't have done it, would have quit and called my husband to pick me up a few miles in if it hadn't been for a little help from my friends.

You see, running long for me is tough for a number of reasons, a lot of them physical, some of them mental. (Yes, yes. I AM mental for running that long. Haha. As if I haven't heard that before.) My patellas don't track straight so I have to tape up my knees when I run hills or run over 7 miles. As a woman, I have hip issues that contribute to my knee issues, which lead to a whole host of aches and pains, tight muscles and ligaments. I'm tall and not a super-skinny person, either. Pushing around my weight is easier than it used to be since losing a bunch of fat and training 3-4 days a week, but it still ain't no walk in the park. And since I've only been running 2 1/2 years, I'm still a baby in the sport. My mental prowess is still developing and I'm still learning the difference between "need to quit" pain and "being a pansy" pain.

So what do I do? I go to our local Facebook page and recruit my own personal posse of runners who run at my speed (or a little faster to push myself) who help keep me going. The same people may not be running with me the whole time, but by running in several loops, I can run with different sets of people and get my entire run in while they get whatever milage they want, too. Everyone wins.

What does this have to do with writing? Everything!

If you want to publish, you really should write quality work. That means critique groups and/or editing services. Either way, you have to make working friendships with these people to trust them enough to 1) let them read your work and 2) believe they are trying to help you rather than insult your parantage and current lifestyle choices. Building a network of beta readers, critiquing friends, editing pals, whatever you want to call them, is key, I believe, in helping writers make it through the "long runs" of editing works into their best shape.

Second, if you want to market your published, quality work, you need to create a network of friends who will not only read your work but share your work with others. These fans aren't necessarily the people you'll share your deep-dark secrets with, but you do have to mingle, socialize, and get to know hundreds, perhaps thousands of people to create a network of supporters to make any money at all in the publishing field. Competition is fierce in every genre. What's the difference between your book and mine? If you know me, have shook my hand, and have made a connection with me, you're more likely to buy and read my book.

The last four or five miles of today's run, my body was done. Finished. Caput. It's a fueling issue I'll have to address on future long runs since I'm in training for a marathon. So what did I have left? My mind and my friends. My mind knew I could finish the distance because I had done it before. My friends knew I could finish because they believed in me. You really need both in the writing business to succeed.

I can't tell you how to develop a positive attitude except to keep pounding those keys and keep submitting work. Practice. Practice. Practice. We're going to write a lot of bad stuff before we write any good stuff. That's just reality. Once I realized that, I didn't feel so bad about my bad stuff.

But friends...although I always advocate being honestly who you are, you also have to treat others the way you would want to be treated. I've found balancing those two ideas has worked for me. Except with some people who just aren't happy with anything. Let them be unhappy. They're not worth your energy or mine. They probably don't buy good books anyway.

Naked Baby Pictures... A Writer's Worst Nightmare

My parents are having a yard sale. This is a big deal. Everyone in the family is required to come over in the weeks prior to the event to go through the boxes, bags, stacks, and piles to either claim what use to be theirs, or take anything else they want. Mom wants it gone as soon as possible. What's left gets priced at bargain-basement prices, some even as high as a quarter.

I was going through one of my boxes (high school certificates, senior class trip pictures of D.C., old dishes) when I found something that made me giggle and blush at the same time: one of my first short stories. It had been printed on that accordion paper with the holes in the side you can rip off. The print: pixelated dot-matrix. WOW! I thought all of them had been lost when the 5 1/4" drive died. (Yes, I am that old.)

Then I read the first line and burst out laughing. Oh. Oh my. Oh HOW AWFUL! I mean, this wasn't just bad;

it was teenage angst, idealistic, full-of-myself, HORRIFIC. In a terribly funny way. At least to me now. I knew nothing yet I was preaching to the world that I had the solution to the world's ills. BWAHAHA! Innocent, blind little baby.

So I found my writer's "naked baby pictures" and I remember now what I looked like back then. Will I ever let someone else read them? Maybe my very close friends. Maybe. But my point is, it's good to see where's you've come from and how much you've grown.

As for the poetry I found? That's going directly into the firebin. No one's going to be blinded by that waste of pen and ink. I'll leave poetry to real poets. :-)

Time Crunch...Avoiding the Falling Piano

We all have that day or week that events conspire to swamp us all at once: all the deadlines sync, all the hormones crash, everyone needs a piece of our time, the house is a wreck, we have no clean clothes, and to top it off, there's nothing to eat but canned soup and Ramen noodles. At this point I turn to my husband and say, "Idonwanna!" in a whinny two-year-old voice. He smiles and hugs me and for a moment it all goes away.

But I still have to deal with it.

For me, it all comes down to revising my life down to the essentials: what MUST be done and in what order. Once I make my list I start to feel better about the mountain of work ahead. With two newsletters, 650 kids to test, 30 total miles to run, four sets of submissions for four publications due, a night class to prep for on Thursday and the aforementioned laundry, dishes, and meals, I'm a little panicked about this week. Plus, I have some great ideas prepped for my novel and I want to finish the first draft as soon as I can, but when can I fit that in? What do I give up? My writing? The laundry and dishes?

I keep forgetting living well isn't all or nothing. I don't have to throw up my hands and surrender the entire week of anything. Instead, I should focus on each day and do what I can then forgive myself the rest. A body can only do what a body can do.

So, deep breath, list out, baskets of laundry ready to go, Garmin charging for my next run, notes for my stories sitting next to my computer, research for Thursday's class at the ready. Zen the days efficiently, Cannon. Smile and enjoy the journey. Pianos don't fall from the sky every day. And when they do, they make for great stories to tell later.

Expectations...Give me an Anvil and I'll Pound in my Head

Trust me, there's no one in this world who's a greater nemesis to me than myself. Oh, yeah, I have people that upset me, anger me, frustrate me, drive me crazy, and often make me question the direction of the human race, but when it comes right down to hate, it's that woman in the mirror who gets the brunt of the blow 100% of the time.

Don't get me wrong. I'm generally a very positive person. Even about myself. I have improved through the years. It's just that I've become so good at self-depreciation through the years, it comes easily and naturally. Especially in times of stress. For me, it's easier to take the fall, take the blame, take the bloody nose rather than try to prove I'm smart and lovable and wonderful...

...because deep down I still think I'm not.

I can think of some off-color phrases my husband, my close friends, and my family would insert right now that are not "G" rated contradicting my belief. I smile and blush and thank them profusely.

So why can't *I* see this? Why is it that we can't see the wonderfulness that is us? As a teacher, I run into the same issue with kids at school. I see their potential, their inner beauty, their amazing nature to learn and see and grow, yet many of them are limited because they think they are ugly and stupid and worthless. I coach them and push them and cheer their every success yet still, in the end, they still believe, as I do: I am not the wonderful person everyone thinks I am.

I think what it comes down to is expectations. We each have a set of expectations that are set based on some ridiculous bar set by society or media or fiction that is unattainable. Don't get me wrong. I believe high expectations gets you great results. But sometimes in the night when all you're left with is your thoughts, those little negative voices, they whisper poison in your ear that is counterproductive. And when you start listening to those thoughts, they start eating you from the inside out. It's a pain no one can see and no one can help you with unless you ask...but how do you express your pain without it sounding like, "Hey, would you give me a compliment today? I'm all about me and you should be, too." That is so not the point.

So when I get in these moods, I remind myself of how hard I've worked to get where I am physically, mentally, and spiritually. Peace doesn't come easily nor does it stay without constant effort. Counterintuitive, but I have found, true. I remind myself of the people around me who care about me and wouldn't STAY around me if they didn't care. What do I have otherwise that they would want? My furniture? Ha! And I also look at my expectations: am I expecting TOO much of myself? Do I need to say "no" so that I can focus and be wonderful at the things I need to do rather than being stressed about the million things I have to be doing?

Finally, I remind myself, I cannot allow myself to be defined by my failures. Failure is merely an opportunity to rise above the shattered remains of the past and grow stronger to face the next challenge. What is past is past. Leave it there.

On to the next revision, then.

Reflections on the Summer: Cannon the Crazy Woman

As I pause before the storm of school hits this week, I grow a little maudlin about the passing of summer: I woke up when I wanted, took naps galore, went wherever my heart desired, only got out of my pj's once a week...oh, wait a minute. That's someone else. Sorry. But still, I will miss the freedom I had to create my own schedule and do a number of things I didn't have time to do during the school year.

First, I wrote a lot of stories, articles, and the majority of my second novel. Plus, it was a successful publishing summer as well! One piece in an on-line literary magazine, won an honorable mention in an international flash-fiction contest, three of my pieces will be published this fall in an anthology, and I still have a lot of pieces submitted in "possibility land." Who knew 40 would be this great!?

Our Fourth of July family reunion was lots of fun. Too much food, lots of conversation, a variety of instruments and songs played and sung, and did I mention too much food? My eldest sister and I found an alternate use for the hand-sewn tutus made for the grandkids. The family decided we looked like Thing 1 and Thing 2. Very well then. ;-)

I ran my fastest mile EVER. In the HEAT and HUMIDITY! 8:49! Now, for those of you who know anything about running, I realize that's nothing to brag about at the track with "real runners." You know, those, tall lanky (or short skinny) folks that can run a marathon in three hours or less. Or belt out a 100m sprint in 13 seconds. (If you've never seen that live, you're missing something amazing!) But in three years, this nearly 200 lb. woman (yes, I do weigh less than that but I'm rounding) has gone from a 12:12 mile to an 8:49 mile and I think that's something to be proud of. I'm aiming for 8:30 this fall and a 5k time of 28:00 this fall/winter season. That's AFTER the November 2nd marathon: 26.2 miles of body-jarring, sweat inducing, energy-sucking exhilaration. Do I know how to have fun or what?

I almost had my house clean. I baked cookies, pies, and made real meals a few times. My husband almost recognized he had a wife for a few weeks there. Poor man. He puts up with so much. Love him dearly!

And I also taught a few adult classes out at the CTC. I love doing those simply because I don't have to worry about doing anything but teaching. Enough said.

Here's where I vow to myself to carve out a piece of every day, no matter how small a piece, to write, to revise, to do SOMETHING "writerly" daily. I know I'll be busy teaching, meeting, supervising, and worrying about various aspects of my job and the students I work with. It isn't going to be easy. Nothing worthwhile is. That's what makes everything I do an accomplishment. That's what makes it all worthwhile. That's what makes people stop and say, "Cannon, you crazy woman!" Hehe. Yep. That's me wearing a 5k shirt and a purple tutu on my head. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

I Am Borg...The Power of the Hive Mind

For those of you who aren't Trek fans, let me 'splain my title. No, wait. Is too much. Let me sum up: The Borg, in Star Trek fandom, is one of the Federation's ultimate enemies. The Borg is a Collective where no one is an individual. All independent thought is suppressed. The goal of every drone is the betterment of the Collective. A little like a bee hive or ant colony, only focused on universal domination and the destruction of all other sentient and independent beings. (Insert political joke of your persuasion here if you choose.)

But being part of a collective doesn't have to be evil. It can be a good thing. No, no! I haven't gone to the dark side. Even though in the mornings when I run with my headlamp, my beeping Garmin watch, my headphones, my reflective gear, etc. etc. I may look like a cyborg, I'm still mostly human. Mostly. ;-)

Back to the point.

When you work in a critique group or if you ask others to read your work and give you feedback, you are part of a collective. You're putting your minds together and trying to reach a common goal: a better piece of work. It may be your piece or theirs. It may be a piece you're working on together. In any case, as a collective, you have to work together to re-work the writing into a better piece.

There's one thing, though, that we humans often forget when trying to work as a collective: leave your ego at the door. This is for all parties involved. If you're asking for help, read the help with an open mind and realize the comments aren't meant as a personal attack but as a way to improve your work. Conversely, if you're trying to help, make sure you're making suggestions that will help improve the work, not just point out its flaws. And also praise the parts that are good, too.

See how this works?

Years of violin master classes and college critique groups have toughened my skin quite a bit. I can take a tongue lashing (or a red pen lashing, as it were) pretty well. However, I'm not everyone. Some people come out of their first collaboration/critiquing session and swear never to do one again. Worse, they swear never to write again!

So next time you're asked to look at someone's piece and give your opinion, consider this: collaboration is a jeweler's kit, not a jack hammer. Give them gems that highlight the jewelry they crafted, not break the concrete of the foundation they've tried to build.