Musings of a former book snob

The book snob in me gave up reading "real" books when I had a child. Most other moms thought I was nuts to even attempt to read any novel, but I knew I would go insane if I completely lost my one passion, my outlet, my primary form of entertainment.

I vividly remember the day several years ago when I raced home from the library, a copy of One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez in my book bag. I made it through about four pages (which took several hours) before I gave up. I had a toddler running circles around me, interrupting me every thirty seconds while he was awake, and once he was in bed I was pretty much brain dead. Yes, it seemed to be beautifully written, but if the paragraphs were more than a few sentences long (forget about pages long) it just wasn't going to happen.

It seemed I was doomed to read only bathroom literature. Anything that couldn't be broken into simple two minute sections wasn't going to make my reading list for a while. I felt like a literary failure.

Luckily this was about the time Chick Lit was hitting the shelves with a vengeance. I could grab an easily digestible novel and actually follow the plot amidst the never ending distractions of my daily chaos. I still could revel in my escapism. And they were actually quite fun. I learned to ignore the pink covers and plunge into the stories held between.

I also learned that by being a book snob I had missed out on endless hours of pure laughter, suspense, and fulfilling entertainment. Even now that I have more spare moments and greater control of my sanity I refuse to return to my highbrow ways, deciding that reading for fun is the most constructive use of my time.

On that note, I was immensely irritated by my last two book selections.

I picked up Jane Green's Promises to Keep expecting the usual light and breezy beach read about relationships and romance. It's summer and I just wanted some entertainment while I sat by the pool. I was quite ticked off when instead I was sucked into a tearjerker.

That was not what I signed on for.

I read the last hundred pages in a huff, scanning through the chapters chanting, "I will not cry, I will not cry." It did not quite work, but I only let a few stubborn tears sneak through instead of the Kleenex-box-full that threatened to spew if I had let myself stay sucked into the story.

Damn you, Jane Green. But I'll still eagerly pick up your next book--just please don't do that to me again.

Next I read Imperial Bedrooms by Bret Easton Ellis. I knew better. I had read his other books. I was traumatized by the raw and vivid images of Less Than Zero in the 80's. I read it anyway.

His stream-of-conscious run-on prose made me feel as if I was in a drug-induced haze. Thankfully, it was an extremely short book so I could handle the onslaught...or so I thought.

His books did to me what Easy Rider did to my Dad decades ago: they made me afraid of people. I am not so naive as to think that there is good in the hearts of most people or even that we can shield ourselves from the rank depravity that some people call their existence. His books expose the demons that crawl through the souls of what should be ordinary people. Are his characters just utterly lacking in conscience or consequences? Or perhaps they are just people who have no souls inhabiting their cold-blooded bodies.

All I know is I needed several showers to wash the images from my mind. It didn't work.

So now I'm taking a break from heartbreak and depravity. My next read shall be light, airy, and full of fluff.

I deserve it.

June Book List

The Rule of Nine--Steve Martini
Insatiable--Meg Cabot
The Burning Wire--Jeffery Deaver
Promises to Keep--Jane Green
Imperial Bedrooms--Bret Easton Ellis

Summer Camp Savages

It's summer break, and my Kiddo is enjoying his first week of our city's summer day camp program. As an only child, it seems he gets bored and lonely a little quicker than kids with siblings to play with or pester. At 6 1/2 he is an outgoing and social little boy, so since he was finally old enough, I figured it was time for a new experience. I signed Kiddo up for two weeks, just to test the waters, give him something to do, and some other kids to play with.

I did not realize I was sending him to participate in The Lord of the Flies.

Day 1: My sweat-soaked and slightly sunburned son shook his head at me when I arrived and did not want to leave. I told him he could stay longer the next day since he had so much fun.

Day 2: I arrived an hour later, and he put his muddy little hands together as if in a prayer and begged to stay longer. He said he was having too much fun to go home.

Day 3: I was out shopping, ran late, and rushed to pick him up in a guilty panic, assuming he would think I had forgotten about him and left him there for the night. I find him drenched (it had just started to rain), filthy (he IS a little boy), and smiling. He announced he wanted to say in camp ALL summer long. No harm done, right?

In the car he announces that he was in a fight. With a taller kid. And he won. He is beaming.

I'm not sure what to say.

I am kind of mortified...and kind of proud...

I decide to try to get as much information out of him as possible, which is usually like pulling teeth. I keep a calm, interested tone while interviewing him. And wonder how to handle this.

This is a whole new world for me. I was a shy, timid girl and I have never thrown a punch in my life. I just don't "get" physical fighting. But boys are different. My Hubby would get into fights occasionally when he was a kid and says that is just how boys are. My Dad preached you should never be the one to start a fight, but always be the one to finish it--victoriously, of course.

Today, any form of fighting, especially in school, is considered unacceptable. There is zero tolerance and BOTH participants are likely to be punished, no matter who started it or for what reason. Sure, that's all well and great in a perfect world where kids are always rigidly supervised, but what about when they are not?

My Kiddo is not a bully and I have no worry that he ever will become one. He is kind, outgoing, and pretty laid back. But I do not want him to BE bullied. I have actually been waiting for the day when he would come home crying because he got punched for giving the wrong kid a hug.

When we talked about fighting, I always said he should avoid physically fighting to the best of his abilities. Try to talk it out, get out of the situation, find a teacher... But what should a boy do if another boy punches him? If he runs away or starts crying he is likely to be bullied and picked on again. If he hits back he risks getting pummeled and/or facing serious consequences.

What's a boy to do?

At the moment, I'm voting for hitting back. Why shouldn't kids be allowed to defend themselves? Sure, with another kid on the playground it just may be an issue of social standing, self-confidence, and a bloody nose, but what about in the real world? What if it is a stranger trying to take him off the playground? Shouldn't we teach our kids to defend themselves and not just stand there, placidly looking for an authority figure to step in, while any number of unimaginable things could happen to them?

I am hoping that my Hubby and I are raising our son with enough moral character, judgment, and self-respect that he will know when it's time for fight or flight. But then again, now he is only 6.

From the scant bits of information I was finally able to cajole out of the Kiddo, I think he did the right thing. It had just started to rain and the counselors had been busy trying to corral the zillions of campers under pavilions or inside. A bigger kid was picking on and hurting Kiddo's friend. Kiddo told him to stop. The bigger kid started pushing Kiddo. So he pushed back. In the end, somehow, my lanky little boy was sitting on the bigger kid until he cried, "time out, I'm done." The fight was over, and my little underdog had prevailed.

I know many parents would be raising a complete fit with the counselors for even "letting" this happen. As long as this remains an isolated incident, I'll deal with it.

There will always be good kids and bad kids. No matter how much we try to shelter and micromanage our children they will come in contact with each other. It is our responsibility to teach our children how to properly deal with adverse situations by themselves so they can grow into competent and self-sufficient adults.

Well, we can at least try...

It will be time to pick the Kiddo up from camp soon. I will admit I am slightly nervous and more than a tab bit curious... I can't wait to hear what happened on the playground today.

Time to read = tools to write?

"If you don't have time to read, you don't have the time (or the tools) to write. Simple as that."
— Stephen King

Okay, Stephen, easy for you to say. If you still manage to kick out a 1,000 page best seller every other month while leisurely reading away your afternoons, you must have some type of time machine. Or work in two dimensions. Or have a ghost writer.

I am not so lucky. I have none of those things. But I do have an antsy 6-year-old telling me each morning, "I'm bored. I want to do something fun today..." My fun would be sitting at my desk all day, my fingers flying over the keyboard, cranking out another 2,500 words.

His idea of fun is Chuck E. Cheese, Aquatica, or inviting a half dozen kids over to terrorize my house. But it is summer break and he will only be little for a little while longer. It won't be too many summers from now when he will be running away from me, not wanting me to run with him. So I shall quietly enjoy my Mommy duty and do my best to quit my kvetching.

I have still been getting quite a satisfactory amount of writing done (thanks partly to the Hubby taking over kid duty when he can). Yesterday I cranked out another 2,500 words. Last week, 6,500. Kiddo was partially in school three days though. I think my summer goal will be 5,000 words per week. Let's see if the words keep coming...

But since I have started kicking out the pages, I have notice that I am having a very hard time reading for leisure. I am so focused on my own storyline I can't be completely sucked into someone else's. Two weeks into this month and I have read one easy novel. That is crazy for me.

I am spending too much time analyzing sentence structure or how exactly the scene was set up or the author's use of point of view. I want to be rereading my old AP English and college journalism textbooks to brush up on all of the grammar I have completely forgotten. But I need to keep reading.

Stephen King says so.

March

Momzillas--Jill Kargman
Split Image--Robert B. Parker
Lamb--Christopher Moore
Bahamarama--Bob Morris
Every Day in Tuscany : Seasons of an Italian Life--Frances Mayes
House Rules--Jodi Picoult

April
Deception--Johnathan Kellerman
Flirting with Forty--Jane Porter
The Girl Who Chased the Moon--Sarah Addison Allen
Just Breathe--Susan Wiggs
The 19th Wife--David Ebershof
Deliver Us From Evil--David Baldacci
Odd Mom Out--Jane Porter
The Blonde Theory--Kristin Harmel

May
Island Beneath the Sea--Isabel Allende
Innocent--Scott Turow
Dead in the Family--Charlaine Harris
Heart of the Matter --Emily Giffin
All We Ever Wanted Was Everything--Janelle Brown
The School of Essential Ingredients--Erica Bauermeister
Fever Dream--Preston and Child

The Weekday Weekend Novelist

I have actually been making some headway writing--yeah! The few times I have had chunks of time to write I have been dedicating myself to The Novel instead of blogging, and I had no idea it had been so long since my last post. Oops. I'm trying to run with my inspiration when I have it, and if that makes me an unreliable and lackadaisical blogger, so be it.

I found I had been spending too much time dwelling on the plot and I was a bit unsure how to formulate some of the characters. Not to mention I was terrified of actually testing my dormant writing ability. After reading some glowing recommendations, I picked up a copy of Robert J. Ray's The Weekend Novelist to help give me some focus. I felt I needed a bit of a blueprint, not necessarily a "formula" for writing a novel, but a little guidance about the order I needed to proceed.

Ray claims to have a specific formula for writing, which if followed, would lead to a completed novel in just 52 weekends. Now, I don't write much on weekends (hello, family time), and I'm not very good at following any type of formula (which explains those embarrassing math grades). His book did finally get me moving in the right direction.

I made it through week 10 in his structured exercises. I found it was a great help in character work, and I completed my character bio's, time lines, and description sheets over the last several weeks. I even went so far as to find pictures to be the basis of some of my characters. He, he, he, Facebook comes in very handy sometimes...

I have been wracking my brain over the climax/catharsis scene, the pinnacle of the book. Then I finally realized I don't have to have EVERYTHING plotted out exactly, I need some freedom to see where my characters may go and grow on their own.

I realized that I can only prepare for and put off the deed for so long. Then I sat down to write.

Some days it's still research and a few paragraphs or a scene sketch. Two days ago, I spit out 2500 words. Today another 1000. It's progress. I'm working on it....

And of course, I get this motivation and progress the week before school lets out for the summer. Two entire months rapidly approaching with a hyper 6-year-old who claims he has absolutely nothing to do.

I need a schedule. I need some time to myself. I need to figure out how the Kiddo are not going to kill each other over the loooonnngg summer break...