Number Eight

Today I finished the first draft on my eighth book. It has been a long, difficult road to finish this one. I started it almost two years ago, and wasn't sure I'd ever finish. It's the third book in the LINGER series.

So, in hindsight, I wouldn't write the first in a trilogy as my first book ever again. Not that I could, but if I had to do it over again, I wouldn't be quite so ambitious. And if I ever wrote a trilogy again, I'd write it all at once, no breaks. It's much too difficult to go back and make sure it all makes sense when you start the third in the series three years after the first.

LINGER is a series dear to my heart. It is set in my beloved hometown, and many of the locations in it are places from my childhood. I ended the third book today in the O'Brien family's kitchen. The action in the scene took place in their outing grove. So, by way of writing it, I got to spend some time in a place that meant something to me. That's the bonus if you're a writer. Writing it means you have to remember details. Remembering details means you get to close your eyes and picture yourself there. 

I thought a lot about why I wasn't finishing this book when I was in the midst of not finishing it. I wondered if it was really as hard to write as I kept telling myself it was, or if  subconsciously I didn't want to finish it because then I'd be done . . . no more excuses for my mind to slip away to the Adirondacks or my childhood home on Ostrander Road. Partway through I gave myself permission to continue the series. I elevated an ancillary character within the story thinking he may be future-book worthy. It leaves the door open anyway.

The other thing about this book is so many of the characters are based on people I know and love. Some know who they are, some don't. Some know I've written this series, in which a character is in some way modeled after them. Some probably don't even remember my name.

I ended the book with a line from one of my favorite characters. She's based on my aunt. When I write her, I see my aunt. The character is full of love . . . she has a great sense of humor, kind to all who've ever met her, generous, sweet, and wise. I love that I see her in my head when I write this character, it means I get to spend some time with her, at least in my imagination.

When I finished the first book in the Crested Butte Cowboy series, I had a REALLY hard time letting go. I loved the two main characters so much. But then, as the series continued, I got to write them again. The next book I'm going to write is part of that series . . . a Christmas novella, so all the characters from all five books will be in it. 

As I write this, I'm crying a little. It's the natural thing to do I think, when something is finished. Or maybe it's because Doug and I shared a bottle of wine when we toasted the end of the book, as we always do. Anyone reading this who has written a book is probably nodding their head, maybe laughing a little, as I would do if I read a post like this written by someone else.

So . . . number eight. Done. Number nine, in the queue. And then there are the countless ideas I have written on scraps of paper, or in the Notes app on my phone, or just lingering in my imagination, waiting to jump out onto the page. 

Bye for now East Aurora. I hope to see you again real soon. I miss you already.

Not the end, but it's nigh.

I've spent the weekend writing. The mostly uninterrupted time has been priceless. While I'm no further ahead than I was on Friday, what's on the page is so much better than it was. If I've ever wondered whether the stops and starts have hurt the story, I have my answer. It more than hurts, it devastates.

I resolved the things that weren't working. I cleaned it up, simplified, and most importantly, I outlined the end of the book. With a clear focus, the time I spend writing from this point forward will be productive.

As I sat with it, the most obvious things came to me. A couple hours ago I set about editing, to incorporate those obvious things, knowing it might take hours and hours to do. And now, less than two hours later, I'm watching Lady Gaga on the first Grammys I've enjoyed in years. I'm relaxed knowing my edits are done, my book is better, and the end is nigh . . . in a purely secular way, of course.

It's a Love-It Day

I've spent all day with the third Linger book . . . reading, editing, thinking, lingering. And I love it. I'm so glad I didn't pick it up yesterday. 

All day I kept thinking I was just about to the part I hated. And then, I'd read through the parts I thought I'd hate, and not change more than a word or two. 

There are definitely parts I already knew I didn't hate. In fact, I knew I loved them. There's one line that is probably my favorite in the entire series. Her toes felt like iciceles, her hands no warmer, but her heart was happier than it had ever been. Every time I read that line, it makes my heart happy. In the story, Anna is sitting on a sled, it's Christmas day, and she's watching as the others toboggan down Baum's hill. I can remember taking a break, sitting off to the side, watching the kids from the neighborhood sled down the same hill. Slade's hill.

I have two days ahead of me with little scheduled. Which means I can write. There is even a chance I'll finish this weekend. So if there are any betas reading this blog post . . . get ready! Nothing like the third book of the Linger trilogy to keep you busy over President's Day weekend!

Reading and Writing

As a writer, or even an aspiring writer, reading is both overwhelmingly stimulating, and  devastatingly debilitating. It is impossible not to compare your own writing to that of the book you're reading. Sometimes it's better, but often, it isn't. Or you think it isn't, which is really the point.

I can't always write. Sometimes I simply don't have the time. And then when I do have the time, I can't do it. I start to reread what I've written previously, maybe the most recent ten pages, to get myself back in the swing of it. If I hate all ten of those pages, I'll sometimes go back to the beginning. If I cannot read the first page without hating every single word, I close up the file, and find something else to do. Because I know I don't really hate it. I have enough experience at this point to know there will be days I really hate it, and then there will be other days I think "Why did I hate this? I love it."

I always hope for the love it days. Because I hate the hate it days. I feel defeated. So I read. And then I feel more defeated. 

Today is a hate it day. Mainly because I'm reading a book I love. It's intriguing, well written, with very few things in it that annoy me. When I finish this book, which I'll do shortly, there is no way in hell I can go tackle the end of my book. It would be easy to say I'll set this book aside, and go write, but it's too late. There is a very slight chance that if I finish this book today, I'll be able to write tomorrow.

The thing is, that I'm fairly certain every writer feels this way. I remember watching a 60 Minutes interview with Chris Martin. This was several years ago, before he did interviews. He was talking about Adele's "Rolling in the Deep." He talked about how he'd listen to it and it would make him mad, and frustrated . . . because he didn't write it. I would guess that like literary writers, songwriters listen to other songs, wish their songs were as good as whatever song they're listening to. Some may even attempt to write a song "like" it. Case in point, there are too many songs out right now that sound like Mumford and Sons. It's their sound, I want to say. Do your own sound.

As much as it is tempting to try to write like someone else, or say to myself that if I could write like someone else, then I'd be a good writer. This morning I recalled reading Fitzgerald's letters to Hemingway. Hemingway was full of self-recrimination, doubt, depression . . . and Fitzgerald responded as a friend would. A couple weeks ago Doug and I watched Genius, about Thomas Wolfe's relationship with Max Perkins and his books Look Homeward, Angel, and Of Time and the River. Perkins also edited for Hemingway and Fitzgerald. The movie was a fascinating glimpse into the relationship between editor and author, but also between authors. 

What if, I thought while in the shower this morning, Hemingway attempted to mimic the writing of Wolfe? Or if Fitzgerald had? It would certainly have tortured their souls exponentially more than they already were. And what would we, as readers, have lost? 

I am not ready to write the book or books that throw me into the most tortured version of myself. I may never be. I may never be brave enough. I write nice stories. That's it. Stories that make me happy, stories I like to read. The book I'm reading now is a nice story. I'm not big on the tortured souls stuff. I used to be, but I'm not anymore. 

I suppose it's because reading them would force me to look deeper, challenge myself more, and I don't want to. There may come a day that I do, but it's unlikely. I envy those three men, and so many others who are considered great authors, and then I wonder if I could write something more profound if I tried. Maybe. Maybe not. 

I wrote the other day that someone had private messaged me on Facebook telling me they wanted to write a book, and were looking for advice. I told them the same thing I tell everyone who asks me about writing. Write. And then write some more. And keep writing. And soon you'll know whether you can write a book or not. 

A friend who has a healthy opinion of themselves, told me they were going to write a book. As if it's the easiest thing in the world. And then a few months later, said, "I tried. I couldn't do it." Yes, it's difficult.

Even when you find you can write a book, it doesn't mean you can write the book. Today, or at least right now, I can't write any book. But tomorrow, maybe. Or maybe I'll keep reading.

It's official . . .

Frank has officially enrolled in Belmont University, Mike Curb College of Entertainment and Music Business. Next step is housing . . . oh, and Belmont merch. Or more Belmont merch. He said he needed a photo holding his #accepted2belmont certificate so he could join the Belmont Class of 2021 Facebook page . . . as if that didn't make me feel a thousand years old. 

When I took his photo, he was in grandma's study, and made a bit of a fuss about it (mainly because he's sick and feels as though he looks like he's sick). I told him this is our first kid's first college enrollment and that is something you document. Then Charlotte told him this is something we celebrate.

Exciting day for all of us. The deeper we've gotten into the process today, the better I think we all felt. 

Once he has the housing paperwork sent in, and his orientation scheduled in June, we can all relax for a few weeks. Nice to have him where he is . . . ready to embark on the next leg of his journey later on this year. In the meantime, I plan to enjoy having him around 24/7-ish, and encourage him to enjoy the second half of his senior year of high school. 

Belmont - Part II

Doug and Frank got home from the airport just as Atlanta scored their first touchdown in the Super Bowl. They arrived about an hour and half later than planned because Frontier lost Doug's luggage, and the luggage office asked them to wait. Still no luggage this morning, but I'm sure we'll hear something later.

I talked to both Doug and Frank several times while they were in Nashville. Sadly, Frank was, and is, very sick with the head and chest cold that Beck had, then Doug, now Frank. Charlotte and I have managed to stay well (knock wood). Anyway, when I asked Frank how he was doing, each time he'd say "really good, but really sick." 

I spent Saturday with my best friend, who was following along with the conversations that took place throughout the day. At one point we were in the barn in Castle Rock, shopping, and I noticed she was crying. "I'm just so proud of him," she told me. Hand on heart moment for mom, as I started to cry too.

I've suggested to Doug and Charlotte, as well as other friends that Frank may not want to hear the words, "it's for the best," or "everything works out the way it's supposed to." I know that when I'm experiencing disappointment, those aren't my favorite expressions. In hindsight I will accept the idea that everything worked out for the best, but in the moment, it's harder to hear. He may not feel that way at all.

Talking to Frank on Saturday after they spent the day getting to know more about Belmont, one of the things he said was, "What I like most about Belmont is there are just so many opportunities." Yes, there are. And not just in music. The Mike Curb College of Entertainment and Music Business is, in Doug's words, a "ten." Right now the biggest struggle I see Frank going through is his choice of major(s), minors, emphasis. Last night he would say, "I could do this with this, or that with this, or that with that." The most important thing I heard was enthusiasm and excitement.

Doug went through the various things they saw on their in-depth tour, and there were several "tens." Many were in CEMB (not sure how they came up with that acronym). Outside of CEMB, which Frank has been accepted into (I didn't realize it was essentially an ancillary college), other tens were the residential halls, the brand new cafeteria, the brand new swanky arena, and the surrounding neighborhood. People were high on the list too, particularly those they met at CEMB. They were touring a soundstage and the girl leading the tour struck up a conversation with Frank. After he told her he ran the PRTV studio, she suggested (enthusiastically), that he could major in music business, but minor in film production (or something), or double major, or . . . so you can see why last night he was so excited about the opportunities.

There were other things he and Doug told me, many I remembered hearing about when we were there in July. One thing I didn't know was there are fifteen different places Frank can study abroad with Belmont. Berklee had one (yeah, I can't help myself). We looked at the academic year last night too, and it's another positive. It starts in late August, and the second semester ends at the end of April. Belmont offers something called "Maymester," which is an intensive "summer semester," that begins and ends in May. There is a second summer semester as well, but I told Frank I hoped he'd be able to resist the temptation to overdo . . . which he struggles with. 

He's been offered an internship this summer, here in the springs with Dr. James Dobson's organization, but when the offer came (to me), I was quick to say that Frank would be out of town for at least a month this summer, because I want him to have a "summer." He deserves a break without school or work or any other stressors. It's unlikely he'll allow himself that break, but I'll continue to encourage him to take it.

As we watched the Super Bowl go from a slam dunk to an unbelievable comeback, Frank and Doug continued to randomly mention positive things about Belmont as it came to them. "They have a really nice fitness center, Mom," was one positive among the countless. 

I believe Belmont will be a really good place for Frank. We've discussed the possibility that he transfer into Berklee next year, or the year after . . . and that may be something he tries to do, and then again, he may just stay put.

Today Frank becomes a Belmont Bruin. And we become a Bruin-to-be household. It occurred to me that eventually we will become another to-be household, but not for five more years. Frank will have graduated college by the time Beckett graduates from high school. He may go on to graduate school of some kind, but he'll have his four year degree before Beck is a senior. Crazy to think. Crazier to think how quickly that time will go.

So, as I said Saturday . . . and then, in just a few days' time, everything rights itself, and life is, at least for this moment, as it should be. From devastation back to a positive and excited outlook in less than a week. Thank God.

Belmont

Frank and Doug are on their way to Nashville this morning, to attend a "Discover Belmont Preview Weekend."

We visited Belmont last July, on our way back from spending five days in Boston. Unfortunately, as much as everything went right with our Boston visit, almost everything went wrong in Nashville. Our timing was off for the two days we were there, missed the rental car counter at the airport being open by five minutes, couldn't get into our Airbnb apartment when we finally arrived at one in the morning, had to go get a hotel, had to argue with the Airbnb owner, and with Airbnb the next morning, and it goes on and on and on.

Frank found out he was accepted to Belmont in August. A couple weeks later, he received a scholarship offer from them. It moved into second place in terms of where he wanted to attend to college. No matter who you are, it's tough to measure up to Berklee. That's just a fact.

I've been a fan of Belmont since before we went to Nashville. First, it's a real university, with a campus, and all the things that make up the attending-college experience. There is a brand new music and entertainment school, named for Mike Curb, that opened less than two years ago, so everything in it is state of the art. The other thing Belmont has going for it, is that it sits perpendicular to the top of Music Row. They own their own recording studios on Music Row, and the internships available to Belmont students number more than there are students to fill them.

Belmont school of music students are given the opportunity to attend the Grammy's (they are volunteers at the show), and the CMAs are held in Nashville in June, along with the four-day festival celebrating the awards. Not to mention ALL the music that is produced in Nashville. When I mentioned OAR recorded at least part of their XX album in Nashville at Blackbird Studios, Frank raised his eyebrows in surprise.

A friend of mine, whose husband has been in the music industry for over forty years, is a bigger fan of Belmont than I am. She also knows a professor in the music department. When we came back with a less than favorable impression of Nashville, she was mind boggled. She couldn't figure out how that was possible.

So they're off. This trip was planned whether he got into Berklee or not, so he could compare the two, and make his final decision. Now he has to decide whether he wants to go to Belmont, or pursue Berklee again next year while continuing his online Berklee classes. Needless to say, Doug and I are biting-our-fingernails anxious, hoping he'll recognize all that's positive about attending Belmont. He can always transfer to Berklee after a year or two . . . 

Doug is great about planning trips. They're staying at a swanky hotel in the Gulch, he's got their days planned out so they see as much as possible, all of which is different, for the most part, than what Frank and I saw in July.

The tour we went on in July was an overview of the college. Frank didn't have the opportunity to even see the studios. On this visit, he'll spend time with faculty and students from the music school, along with getting to spend time in the studios. He'll be able to look at the residential halls, and hang out on campus at a time when students are there, rather than being home for summer break.

I know this will be hard for him. He wanted to go to Berklee so badly. I told him that all I asked was that he have an open mind and try to see the positives rather than measure what's there against Berklee. No matter what age you are, that is difficult. When you're seventeen and just experienced one of your first profound disappointments, it's difficult times ten.

I'm remaining optimistic, because it's what I do. I hope his experience this weekend is a good one, and he comes home excited and enthusiastic again.

Actually it was a little after 11 . . .

The notification came over a little after 11pm on Monday. Unfortunately, Frank was not accepted at Berklee. It's a tough thing for him, he worked really hard, but in the end, he just didn't make the cut. With a 32 percent acceptance rate, that leaves 68 percent who aren't accepted.

The good news for him is he has other options with great schools of music, both of which have offered him scholarship opportunities, and he has time to decide what direction he wants to go in.

I read and read and read the sites about Berklee, where people post questions about getting in or other topics.  There was a high percentage of students who posted that they didn't get in the first time, went somewhere else for a year, and then auditioned again, and transferred in. Even Frank's local instructor who is Berklee grad, was a transfer student. That's one option for him, but there are so many others, like the two colleges I mentioned above.

This is the stuff life is made of, and he's learning some valuable life lessons as he navigates this process. I'm sad for him that he didn't get in, but then again, there's that whole closed door means another door opens thing. Maybe that wasn't the best place for him, maybe it wasn't the best place for him right now.

He and I had a great conversation yesterday afternoon. It started off slow, but soon he was telling me some of the options he'd thought of. In the course of twenty minutes, I listened as he thought of pros and cons of different scenarios. Even within that short amount of time, he went back and forth about his different options. In the end, I told him I was proud that less than twenty-four hours later he was picking himself up, dusting himself off, and getting right back on that horse called life.

One of the reasons I write this blog, is so I remember significant or important milestones in the lives of our children, in Doug's life, and in my life. Some things are exciting and wonderful, some things are disappointing, and even insignificant to anyone but me. And once in a while, I'll hear from someone who says, "after reading your blog, I realized I'm not alone."

There are lots and lots of kiddos who are having to face the disappointment of not getting into the college that is their first choice. Yesterday afternoon I asked Frank to consider the ones who did get into Berklee, but didn't get a scholarship or grant they were counting on, and thus, couldn't go. To me, that would be so much more difficult to overcome than not getting in.

Frank and Doug leave early Friday morning for Nashville and another visit to Belmont. It was a trip scheduled whether he got into Berklee or not. Over the course of the long weekend he'll have the opportunity to see the Mike Curb School of Music and Entertainment Business up close and personal. Unlike a regular college tour, on this tour he'll be able to talk with other students, meet faculty, and spend time touring actual studios and other production facilities. He may come back with a decision about what he wants to do, and he may not. Either way, he'll have food for thought.

As with everything else with my boys, it is the journey that is so much fun to watch. Sometimes life is hard, but knowing (and seeing) each of them overcome obstacles they encounter, or learning how to move on from disappointment or rejection, or even failure, is proof positive that Doug and I are doing at least part of our job right.

10pm

Tonight at 10:00pm, Frank will find out if he's been accepted to attend Berklee College of Music in Fall of 2017. As I write this, a feeling of deja vu has come over me. I feel as though I dreamt writing this post a couple years ago.

I know he is anxious today, and has been since last August. He's known since then that he had everything submitted for early notification. He's only brought it up a couple of times, as a countdown . . . in a week I'll know, etc. I have refrained from bringing it up, even though it's been at the back of my mind. At one point I thought about asking how he feels about plan B, but we'll cross that bridge if we come to it.

I hope he gets in, obviously, because it's what he wants. My own anxiety about it is that of a mother, hoping her son is spared the disappointment of not getting in, and what that will mean to him. 

For months I thought Belmont University in Nashville was a better option, and I still think it's a good plan B. He's been accepted, and has a scholarship offer. He's also been accepted to UC Denver, with a scholarship offer. But after having gone to the Berklee audition with him in December, I know how different his experience will be if he's accepted there. If he were planning to attend law school, getting accepted at Harvard or Yale would be a completely different experience than attending University of Minnesota, or Florida State, for example. Also good law schools, just not Harvard or Yale. Berklee carries the same cachet. On the other hand, I know plenty of people who didn't get their first choice, in colleges or other things in life, and it all worked out for the best in the long run. The same will be true for Frank, and for Beckett when the time comes for him to make these kinds of decisions.

It's very easy in hindsight to say something doesn't really matter. It's also very easy to not care, to say it's his thing. But I do care. I support him, and Beckett, in what they want in life. My experience was vastly different than theirs, and I'd rather be this mother, if you know what I mean. I will never apologize for it. I know the difference.

What Frank and I share is a determination to make it on our own. He's a self-starter, responsible for his own actions . . . and I know how rare that is for a seventeen year old. It hasn't been entirely nature versus nurture. Part of it is that he's just built that way. I was the same way, and definitely attributed it to lack of nurture, now I wonder if I, too, was just built that way. 

Since Frank was in middle school Doug and I have been counseling him on how our job is to raise him to be a successful, independent adult, able to be a contributing member of society. Success, we have always told him, is what HE deems it to be. We all have our own definition. Regardless of how he defines it, Doug and I have always reinforced that we will support HIS decisions.

Frank has a very good friend, one of his best friends, whose parents aren't as supportive. Their approach has been to talk him out of some of his ideas because in their estimation, it wouldn't be a worthwhile pursuit for him. I know this because Frank talks to me about it, and so does his friend. The friend is floundering, unsure what he's going to do when he graduates from high school, unsure what he wants to do in life. Frank sat down with me a couple weeks ago, and asked me to keep in touch with his friend once he heads off to college. He told me how different he sees his dad and me, how we've helped him, guided him, but more importantly, supported him in his decisions. He's told his friend that we're here for him if he wants to talk things over. From OUR perspective, it's what parents do. 

So, 10 tonight, he'll know where life's journey will lead him next. It's a big day for Frank.