A Day Off

It’s Monday. My schedule is flexible—changing every week—but for this week, Monday means a day off.

“Lucky you,” you say. “I never get a day off!”

Well, believe me, you have my sympathy and utmost respect. I applaud any parent who can manage to keep their house from self-destructing whilst working full time. I don’t know how you do it. Seriously, I don’t.

As for me, I work part-time so that I can manage the day-to-day life of a military family with teens (hubby is away…frequently), but really, my days off are supposed to be writing days. 

With two published books and numerous manuscripts in various stages of completion, I still cringe inside when I call myself a writer, but in reality being a writer is a job. A career. Some extremely fortunate people get to write full time. I am not one of those fortunate people (YET) so for now, my days off are technically working days, just with a different career path. Days off are days supposed to be spent in my favourite writing spot, hammering away at the keyboard while building worlds and creating magic. Days off are creative days, quiet days, productive days while the kids are at school, hubby is at work and my mind has a few blissful hours to focus on the screen in front of me.

Ha ha ha ha.  HA! HA!

Lets just take a look at how today started out...

Yell at kids to get their butts in the car. Frantically make coffee because I NEED CAFFEINE. Dishwasher full of clean dishes, countertop full of dirty dishes. Scrounge to find a cup. Pour coffee. Discover there is no milk to put in coffee. Yell at kids to get in car.  Skip breakfast—no milk for cereal. Too late for toast.

Take milk-less coffee with me. Drop kids at schools. Go to grocery store to get milk. Spend an hour in grocery store because I need a meal plan to get me through a crazy week. Buy a gazillion dollars worth of food. Light goes on in car—need gas. Stop to get gas. Drive home. Start putting groceries away, fridge is too full of last weeks leftovers. Empty fridge of science experiments to make room. Garbage is full. Empty garbage and put in new bag. Pantry is full of empty boxes, dismantle boxes and put in recycling, but recycling is overflowing so empty that. Put away rest of groceries.

Realize my coffee is cold. Make new coffee and leave sitting on counter. Try to find a recipe for chicken-creamy-something-put-it-all-in-a-crock-pot-and-leave-it so I can at least get an hour or two of writing done before kids need to be picked up. Give up on recipe books and find something on pinterest in ten seconds. Chop and dump and put nutritious food in crock-pot.  No space, so empty dishwasher and refill it first. Finish crock-pot meal prep. Realize coffee is cold. Nuke it in the microwave.

Remember that kid needs gym clothes washed. Reset laundry that I washed yesterday because it’s been sitting there overnight and has a bit of a smell (I have a thing with smelly laundry...). Trip over cat. Feed cat. Realize dog is outside in the rain. Let dog in and dry his muddy, disgusting paws.

Remember coffee is still in the microwave, cold. Nuke it again.

Sit down for two seconds to take a breath and realize I don’t have coffee. Go to get coffee. Look at the clock and realize it’s now noon and I haven’t had breakfast. Grab a banana. Sit down. Hear the washer finish it’s cycle, go switch it over, but the dryer is full so empty that and fold clothes. Put gym clothes in washer.

Remember coffee is still in microwave. Nuke it again.

Sound familiar? I’m sure you’ve all had similar days. Big, empty days off that suddenly evaporate and it’s fifteen minutes before you have to go again. How does it happen? Some days that coffee is never warm enough to drink it, and I’m lucky if I write a hundred coherent words—today being one of them.

The good news is, I’ve finally managed to sit down with my laptop and I’ve got two hours left to write. The dog is dry. The crock-pot is cooking. The laundry is doing it’s thing, the counter is clean, the groceries are put away, the recycling is out, the fridge is full and I’ve turned on some peaceful music to write by.

And guess what?  My coffee is beside me.

Cold.

Brenda

The Art of Just Sitting

Attwood Bay, BC

Life is busy.

Life with three teens, two careers, and a husband in the RCAF sometimes borders on the insane. I love my life, though, and all of the amazing opportunities it presents. I love that I get to meet so many interesting people. I love that at my day job I can comfort the elderly in their final stages of life. I love the unique experiences that come from being the mom of three active kidlets and the wife of a serving member of the Canadian Armed Forces. And I love that we've seen so much of the world because of the fact that my hubby serves.

But sometimes--like now, for instance--I need to just sit.

Okay, maybe I'm not just sitting. I'm writing. But, For me, writing's like reading. It's an escape. I'm one of those extroverted introverts, and my batteries require a few minutes of calm and peaceful now and then to recharge themselves. A coffee, a comfy chair, some quiet music, a book or a laptop, and--my special treat--a warmed hot pack on my back. Oh, yeah. Bliss with a capital B. Heaven.

I need that time to rest my brain. Free time is so rare these days that when it happens it's almost a shock.  Wow! Is that really an hour in my schedule where I don't have to drive, work, organize or clean? I don't have groceries to buy, or checks to write, or meetings to attend, or laundry to do or kids to pick up or phone calls to make or forms to fill out or prescriptions to pick up or appointments to make...

Today, I have a day off. Imagine! What a strange concept.

Daddy-daughter moment

The problem is, in today's society our brains and bodies get so programmed to go a thousand miles a minute that it's hard to do nothing. It's hard to put the smart phone down (are they really that smart?), forget about the to-do list (oh yeah, we need bread...Must. Write. That. Down.) and be comfortable with simply existing. We may understand that the world will not cease because we are stepping away from it, but it's darned difficult to let ourselves pull back. We have to force ourselves to just sit.

So here's a scenario. Five days on a thirty-five foot sailboat. In a place so isolated it's called
Desolation Sound.

If you follow my Facebook page, you'll have seen some of the pictures. It took months of planning, hours and hours of preparation, and a big, circled no-you-may-not-book-anything-here slot on the calendar, but the Dunne Family were able to sail away to a place where there was no cell phone service. No wireless internet, and sometimes the mountains were so tall around us that they blocked our GPS.

Three teens, three books...

When you are that far from civilization on a tiny boat with four other people, just sitting is not just a necessity, it's an art.

We read a lot of books. In the five days, my eldest daughter read six. We played cards. We scanned the water for sea creatures (we saw porpoises, seals, thousands of jellyfish and even a pod of orcas), and the shore for bears (sadly, didn't see any). We snacked and fished and slept and sailed and at times we just sat.

It was awesome.

And when we came back, even though our bodies were tired and our laundry bins were full, our brains were rested...and our familial batteries were recharged for the insanity of the fall.

It's been two weeks since we returned from our holiday, and there's been barely a moment to think since, so days like today--with empty day planners and kids at school--are a treat to be savoured. Precious time to reflect on a summer well-spent, and maybe to read a little, write a little and just sit. I don't think you can ever perfect the art of just sitting...but I perhaps today I'll give it a shot.

And now to re-heat that hot pack...


Brenda

Strange humans...what are your rushing for? 

One year of Dependent: Seven Lessons Learned

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commenting below!

It's DEPENDENT's anniversary! Exactly one year ago today, I was holding my breath as DEPENDENT went out into the big, big world to find it's fate.

Wow, have I learned a lot.

I've learned about the publishing process, I've learned about book launches, I've learned about reader reviews and royalties and radio interviews. I've learned about publicity and pitching. I've learned about myself as an author, as a military spouse, and as a female in the military community.

Has it been an easy year? No.

Has it been a good year? Definitely.

I get a lot of questions that start with 'how', when talking to new authors. How do I finish? How do I find an agent? How do I get my work published? I'll admit, it's not an easy world to work in. So for those wonderful people who have come to me with their questions, who've asked for advice, and who've given me good, honest criticism, I thought today I'd share with you a few of my lessons learned. I don't think I'll ever consider myself an expert. But I've got more experience than some...so here goes.

Lesson #1:  The publishing world is unpredictable. 

Cross country moves don't
generally mix well with
book launches...

I wish I could find a crystal ball to tell me how a book idea is going to fare. What topic is going to work and what is not. How many people are going to show up at a book signing. Who is going to want my book. What a contract is going to look like.

But there is no crystal ball. I can't tell anyone what will work, because what is cool today may not be cool when you finish your final draft. The odds of writing a book that turns into a phenomenon are pretty slim.

Write what you love to write.

Lesson #2: A book launch is for you, your friends, and your family.

Launching
TREASURE IN THE FLAME
 in 2012

Unless you've got the support of a huge publicity team and gazillions of dollars, plan your book launch so that your friends can come. DEPENDENT was launched in a big city, in a huge store...just after my family and I moved across the continent in an epic military move. We had to pick a launch date long before the military plans solidified, and it just worked out that it was after the move took place. As it was my second launch (TREASURE IN THE FLAME launched in 2012), I thought I'd roll with things and see how it turned out.

Although DEPENDENT's launch was a success, it could have been so much more. I really, truly missed the support of my close friends and family. I hope to plan my next launch (when it happens) either later on in our next military post (when we've made some friends), or closer to my home base.

It's so much easier to publicize something when you have the advantage of local word-of-mouth. And your success is the success of those you love. Plan your launch so they can be there.

Lesson #3: Publicity is so important.

If people don't know about the book, they won't buy it. I've been very, very fortunate to have a great team, but I couldn't have had the success I've had without my #1 PR GUY...my hubby. He's had my back since day one, which was INCREDIBLY important with this book. If you've read DEPENDENT you know why.

Lesson #4: Always be prepared to do a radio interview.

One of the disadvantages to having a switched-on #1 PR GUY is the random radio interview...the one that happens while your driving, unprepared, home from the grocery store. Thank heavens for wide shoulders on Ontario back roads--lots of room to pull off and try to collect your thoughts. And thank heavens they can't see what you're wearing on radio.

Yeah. That happened.

Lesson #5: Not everyone will love you.

This one I was prepared for. I knew that DEPENDENT would not be the book for everyone. And I was right. But writing a book that people feel strongly about--either positively or negatively--is a good thing.

Lesson #6: Don't engage the trolls.

Engaging with haters never ends well. Thankfully I knew this before I started. Sure, I love a good debate, but I'll let the people who read my work stick up for me. Trolls generally are looking to stir the pot, whatever the cost. And the more you engage with them, the more vindictive they get. Don't even justify them with a response. At all. I talked about it a little bit in 15 Seconds, this past May.

Lesson #7: Don't ever, EVER give up.

The writing world is FULL of disappointment. Rejection is part of the package. Agents, editors, readers...there are lots of 'NO's' in this career. And there are many, many moments over the past few years where I've considered dropping it all.

But I won't.

I have three really cool manuscripts finished and ready to go. I've got a couple more on the way. And I'm most certainly not done with this adventure.


Thanks for sharing the journey with me.

Brenda

Want to read more? Walk down memory lane?

Check out Posting Phase Eight to remember the insanity around DEPENDENT's launch.

Or try Launch Week Recap to hear about my first launch!

****WIN A SIGNED COPY!****

Comment below and I'll enter your name into a draw for a signed copy of DEPENDENT, A NOVEL! Draw will take place Wednesday August 5th!

Take Each Day

I've been trying REALLY hard to work on a manuscript that's been languishing on my laptop.

Really. Hard.

I want to finish this manuscript so I can get it off to you wonderful readers. But for some reason it's just not flowing out of me. Not that I've got the dreaded writer's block--I'm still picking away at it, but I'm not writing the 2000+ words a day that I'd hoped for.

Just needs a hot coffee and a good book

I pull it up faithfully in the morning, write a paragraph, feel all keen and motivated and READY TO ROCK... and then I open up a social media site. Big mistake. Or a kid gets up and asks for a drive to something. Or I need to go to work. Or the flowers need to be watered (by hand and sparingly...we're on water restrictions), or the laundry needs to be done or I need to make coffee or buy groceries or look at this lovely garden idea on Pinterest or let the dog out or read this book or watch this Netflix show (Why, oh why did I let my daughter convince me to watch my first ever episode of Glee???), or go for a walk or pick up that kid I dropped off or check out a house for our potential new posting...

Yeah.

You get the idea.

The manuscript is still languishing.

But, I refuse to let myself fall into the pit of despair for being such a failure with this manuscript. Why?

Because it's summer. Sweet, sweet, summer. Because my kids have jobs or are putting out their very first resumes to get a job, and I want to support that initiative. My flowers are beautiful. I've created this lovely little floral patio and it makes me HAPPY. So does coffee. I've watched far more Glee than I care to admit, but I've spent hours snuggling with my teenaged girls and singing show tunes while doing so. I've read many books, and in my chosen second career we can call that research. And yes, I even managed to not completely destroy my son's million dollar car while zooming around some fictional town on Grand Theft Auto (well, I might of scratched it a bit, but he assures me that he has insurance. And I didn't kill anyone, so that's good...right?) He laughed, and I laughed, and it was a great moment.

Sometimes we get so caught up in the PUSH, that we forget to take each day as it's given to us. And with working two careers, raising three teens and helping to run a military household, that's often hard to do.

The good thing is that my manuscript is not going anywhere. I've got a couple with my lovely agents already, one of which is just going out on submission. Another story is brewing in my head. And where do I get my ideas for new stories?

By living, of course.

I'll write a few hundred words later...but now? I think there's some Glee calling my name.




Brenda.

Life on the Salish Sea

For those of you who may have missed it, about two years ago I wrote a young adult fiction manuscript about a silkie, a mythical creature who supposedly sheds her skin and drags her victims below the waves to the unknown. My story has a few twists on the classic mythology with Sam the mysterious teenage boy down the beach, but it still revolves around seals and the ocean. The manuscript, entitled SKIN, is with my wonderful agents at Literary Counsel, and I am working (slowly...) on a sequel.

You also may or may not know that last year we moved from central Canada to the Pacific Coast to Vancouver Island, right on the body of water known as the Salish Sea. On the very first day we arrived, we saw a harbour seal outside of our hotel. The next day we saw two. And now pretty much every time we go by the water, at least one little dark-eyed head pops up to say hello. They are so thoughtful and inquisitive, but still shy enough to give you just a look or two before they move on. They look kind of like golden retrievers, but with big, sharp claws. I love them, and I'm constantly reminded of SKIN when I see them.

A porpoise on our starboard beam 

Yesterday my family and I were sailing. Before we went out we saw a fat seal, who popped up on the wharf and hung out for a bit. We called him Dave. We took the boat, went out for a few hours, and were followed by porpoises and a few other seals. It was a wonderful day of fresh air and family time.

When we came back Dave appeared to have a very affectionate friend, whom we called Davette. We giggled a bit at how close they were. Dave (or Davette?) truly appeared to be climbing on top of the other's back. Yeah. My thoughts went there too.

The kids popped up to the car, and I ran back to the boat to do something just before we left. I heard a splash and looked around, and there was this little face checking me out, not two feet away.

I thought it was Davette, but on a second look, Davette was REALLY small. Then Davette flipped over and I saw something unexpected...an umbilical cord still attached! Davette was a Baby Davie! Just out! Brand new! Then momma popped up and Davie wanted to play and snuggle. This was all literally right at my feet.

Davie and mom

I even got some (very poor quality) video:

Of course there was no one around to share this amazing sight with...but my handy dandy iPhone had to suffice. 

Perhaps it's time to get back to that sequel? Hmmm...Could Sam have a little brother? 

So much to write about...so little time.

Brenda

Military Monday: You Know You Are a Military Spouse WHEN... (for June)

After this morning's Facebook post (which, by the way was entirely serious) I thought I'd sit down and write out a Dunne list of military spouse-isms for the end of June. Feel free to add yours in the comments!

You know you are a military spouse when...

1. You see a moving truck pull into your subdivision and you have a minor panic attack.

Are we posted? Did I forget to put it on the calendar? But I just finished unpacking! Is someone I know moving? NO! They can't leave! I like them!

You get the picture.

2. You start packing for your next move and realize you have ten boxes you still haven't unpacked from the last move.

OH! That's where that pair of shoes went! I've been looking for them for three years! And...oops. I don't think that ham sandwich was intended to be packed in the foyer closet box...eeeewww.

3. You're filling out the criminal record check forms so you can coach your 4 y.o. son's soccer team, and you have to look up postal codes for three places to put in the 'List addresses for the past 5 years' section.

Not lying. I had to do that two weeks ago for a different summer activity.

4. You decide to file your kid's report cards properly (for a change) and realize last year's report card is still in a box. Somewhere.

Remember those ten boxes? My advice is to start looking in the bottom one.

5. You give up trying to find last year's (insert summer item here) and just buy a new one. 

It probably was broken/wouldn't fit, anyway.

6. You start looking at real estate websites in random locations, because you know you're likely posted next year. 

I am addicted to the multi-listing service (MLS). Just the whisper of potential postings sends me in a frenzy of home shopping. This year is no exception. And no, we aren't moving...yet.

7. You could wallpaper your house with rainbows of those little moving company stickers. 

Yep. Been there.

8. You know what FIGMO* stands for.

I--not lying--explained this acronym to one of my civilian co-workers this past week. She'd never heard of it. I enlightened her and she totally agreed she was FIGMO. :)

9. You are FIGMO.

Even if you didn't work during this post. You get that June feeling. You know, the THANK GOD SCHOOL IS FINISHED FOR A FEW MONTHS, feeling. Or maybe you're glad to be leaving your job too...and going along with your spouse. There's something so freeing about moving to a totally new place with a new job and new potential friends.


10. June is a happy-sad-stressful month.

See number 1. Who is leaving? Who is moving in? Where are you going? Where is your spouse heading on exercise? How are you going to deal with kids leaving their friends?

Looking ahead to moving and having friends move is emotionally draining. Actually June is draining.

Take heart. August is only a few months away.


Brenda


*FIGMO= F*@# It, Got My Orders.

Dear Teacher Who Just Gave My Kid A Chance

Dear Teacher, Coach, Instructor, Leader, Responsible Adult,

You don't know me--not yet, anyway--but you just met my daughter. You know, the one with the freckles? The new kid that just moved in from God-knows-where, and came into your wonderful, well established class/team/group/lesson,  the class you've been teaching since these kids were teeny-weeny and didn't want to leave their moms. You've spent forever getting these no-longer-little humans to work together as a group. You've watched them find their passions. You rejoiced when they became friends. You've encouraged them as they fought and found their way. And last year, you jumped for joy when they triumphed and came FIRST PLACE at that big, big BIG competition. Their success was the result of years and years of your hard work.

But today, my kid came into the room, and you didn't have a clue what to do with her.

She walked in...a stranger, an unknown, an alien. The other kids stared. Who in the heck was this girl? Waltzing in, to disturb their perfectly-balanced microcosm of society?

You knew nothing about my kid's abilities, and you were worried that this unknown would turn your award-winning team into a disaster. You wondered if I was being truthful about my kid's background and training. You've had kids like her before...and they didn't last.

You, dear teacher, could have chosen one of two roads.

You could have taken the easy road--treated my teen like a stranger, doubted her abilities, erred on the side of safety. Your gut was probably telling you this. Parents tend to exaggerate, don't they? Unknowns rarely prove worthy of recognition. And God-knows-where likely had horrible teachers-- fakes masquerading as professionals. You could have completely discounted my kid, and you would have been justified in your own mind.

You knew nothing about my amazing daughter...and you could have made a difficult situation much, much worse.

But you did not take this road.

You wonderful, wonderful person. You dear, sweet, patient human being.

You didn't walk down that path at all. There were so many ways you could have hurt my girl, so many simple, minuscule things you could have done to make her already difficult life a nightmare...but you didn't.

Instead, you watched. Not too closely--not so intensely that she felt singled out. You watched just enough to see and understand what she was made of.

You understood that she would be behind in some things, but you also realized that she would be far ahead in others. You were patient when she didn't follow your way of teaching. And when she caught on, you praised her, but didn't dwell. You gave her time to assimilate new methods, and you challenged her on the things she knew. You placed her with others, and encouraged the tiny spark of friendship.

You asked questions...and you believed the answers.

The next class you challenged her a bit more. You put her closer to the spotlight, but you didn't push.

You watched and waited.

You believed in her. You wanted her to succeed. You knew that her many experiences had given her a wide, full background to pull from. You celebrated her differences.

And before you knew it...she became part of the team. Sure, it was a tentative link, a delicate and tender and thin tendril that tied her to this tight-knit group with a BIG history, but you supported that thread. You helped her to weave herself in, and then you let her go.

Dear teacher who just gave my kid a chance, you couldn't have known that she's done this not once, not twice, but six times in her short life. You couldn't have known that being the new kid every other year is beyond hard. It's scary and demeaning and physically and emotionally painful. Your watching and waiting and supporting were vital in not just your class, but in her very existence.

It may have seemed second nature to you, but believe me, it's not like that for some teachers. There are those that are quick to discount, quick to shut out, quick to discriminate. Those that would stomp all over her confidence to make a point.

You did none of these things. Nope. Not you. You gave my kid a chance. And in giving my kid a chance you proved to her that she is worth the effort. You showed her that God-knows-where is a good place to be from. And you strengthened the foundation she'll build on in the next place.

Dear teacher who just gave my kid a chance, you are a true hero.

Thank you, from the bottom of this proud mom's heart.