Day Twenty- To Blog or Not to Blog

   I started blogging last year because a literary agent suggested in her newsletter that all good little writer wannabes that wanted to make it in the publishing world should have a blog to build up their readership.
   And not just any sort of blog but one with actual readers. And lots of them.
  I'm sure someone forgot to tell her that if you're spending time on a blog then you're not spending time writing novels. And if you can't get your novel done than what is the point in having a blog to build up readership before you're published?
  I bet she gets confused with time travel stories too.

  When I was first trying to get published, you just needed to make sure your query letter was professional and didn't contain spelling and grammar errors; for some reason agents start to doubt your ability as a writer if you send them a letter that has tons of errors.  :)
  This was on top of a lot of stringent rules that had to be followed or they wouldn't even acknowledge your existence.
   Sort of like don't feed agents after midnight, don't get them wet, and no bright lights. Otherwise, sane and normal agents turn into angry agents that like to say things like, 'What? You actually thought you could write?'
  
   Then they started demanding a list of previously published works. I sigh heavily since my publications had only been published locally. This gave me a slight edge, but no more than say the Postal Carrier that brings them their mail.

   And then they wanted blogs. So I started one. And I called it 'Just the Other Moment; because life is made up of moments interwoven together to form life. My life. 
 Plus, Just the Other Day was already taken which was my first choice.

  Well, this agent didn't sign me on even though at first she was interested in my work. Didn't even tell me why she didn't want to represent me. Just a no thank you after all but keep on following your dream. It would have been nice to know why she decided against it. But sometimes rejection by agents start to sound like bad relationship breakups, 'No, it's not your writing. It's us, we just are looking for something else. But don't worry, it's not you."

   This was a major disappointment that took three different things to get over.

    One: lots of hugs from Abu and a reminder that I'm the best Mom ever and she loves my stories. (I love it when kids are young. They are so unconditional.)

     Two: A reminder from Bean that I can't give up because I never let her give up on anything and it wouldn't be fair if I could and she couldn't. Ah, it's the 'I'm a role model since I'm a parent' thing.

    And Three: A stern warning from Hero Hottie that I wasn't allowed to give up and what could he do to stop my tears because nothing else he was saying was stemming their flow.
    "Just tell me you think I'm good enough to succeed...Someday...At something...Preferably writing." I cried, wondering if there was something wrong with me to pick a path in life that requires you to be constantly rejected just to reach small goals. Yes, I'm crazy because I'm sure there are things easier in life than writing. Like teaching high school math. Or running a restaurant. Or working in customer service.
    He interrupts my moody thoughts with his gruff reassurance. "Yes. You are. A good writer. Now stop crying. We aren't going to worry about silly agents that had dreams of being writers and didn't make it so they're dealing with the pain by shooting down other writers."
     "Are you saying I'm going to end up being an agent?" I cry harder. Oh, I don't want to be an agent.
     "No. But can I get you some chocolate?"  He's sounding quite desperate at this point and ready to call the agent on the phone and yell at her for making me cry.  This makes me feels better, that he's willing to face the mysterious creature they call, an 'literary agent' and tell her off. I turn down his offer of assistance in battle but I willingly take the chocolate.


    But a few days later I decide that since agents wanted to see blogs than I was going to make a blog. What I was going to write about I wasn't sure. Or how often. Or how to obtain readers.
    I dove headfirst into 'writing a blog' thing, almost expecting it to bring agents to my doors. After all, they were the ones who had demanded it.
    The door was sadly silent. But not my email, it continued to fill up with rejections.
    I kept plugging away at my blog, surprisingly building up a readership...from around the globe. I may not be published but I've been read internationally. It's an awesome and weird feeling.
   Now I enjoy having a blog. It's challenging. Especially when I try to write a new blog every day in the month of December. What was I thinking? Grin.
   But I have to thank my readers. For reading my writing. For enjoying it. For encouraging me with their kinds words. I would have quit by now if it haven't been for those kind words. Thanks.

   Now, agents want you to follow them around to every conference they attend and try to get their attention that way. I think I'm going to worry about improving my writing instead.
   And I rather see where this blog takes me than spend endless hours worrying about ways to capture the attention of a literary agent. 
   So perhaps having a blog wasn't my idea but I'm glad started one.

The Philosophy of Going to School in your Pajama's

      After so many years of being a Mother and repeating the same routine every day for well over ten years, I finally decided that this morning was it. This morning we wouldn't worry about appearances, rules or routines.
       Brush your teeth, but please go to school in your pj's, your robe, don't brush your hair and leave your dirty underwear on. It's alright. It saves us time. We don't have to worry about grabbing our jackets because we're wearing our robes. There's more time for sleep because we don't have to do our hair and tonight, all we have to do is slip into bed and we're ready for nighttime.
     
        Have I truly lost it? Has years of doing dishes a few times a day finally drove me crazy? Has folding the same shirts, pants, and towels finally sent me over the edge? How many times can a person cook dinner before they decide that their children can live off cereal, fruit and toast for all three meals a day? I'm not sure but some nights my children get awfully close to finding out. (Grin)
         
        And I'm not kidding when I say I sent Bean and Abu to school in their pj's. They were so cute too. Flannel pajama bottoms, messy hair and their robes. I even took pictures to prove that we took a break from our usual getting ready for school routine. They don't get to go to school being so unkempt and messy. It was fun.
         I didn't do it because I'm tired and worn out on the same daily script. It was Crazy Day for their 'I'm Drug Free Week.' They had to dress wacky for their school day. My children thought showing up in their pj's would constitute being crazy.

         I have to smile because at least I'm not raising Wal-Mart shoppers. I swear if I have to see one more sloppy woman dressed in a tight spaghetti strap night shirt and baggy pants that keeps trying to fall off while I'm trying to purchase food I'm going to explain to her that when they say you should wear a shirt or no service; they also mean you should wear a shirt that doesn't allow your boobies to flop out for the entire world to see. And wearing shoes, means actual shoes; not fuzzy bunny slippers. Oh, boy. We'll leave discussions of Wal-Mart people for other websites.
       On that point though I do have to mention a funny piece of journalism I read. This reporter was interviewing a woman shopper about this dollar store that had opened up in her town. She was excited because she didn't have to dress up to shop there like she did when she went to Wal-Mart. What??? Does that mean she's just going to wear a robe or worse, her birthday suit?
       
        Anyway...

        I'm not sure how wearing crazy clothes is supposed to promote not using drugs. The theme for today is Too Cool for Drugs. Tomorrow they can bring a stuffed animal to school (great, lets not promote bed bugs while we're at it) and the theme is Hugs not Drugs. Wednesday's theme is 'Drugs turn you inside out' and they get to wear their clothes inside out. Thursday we are back to being crazy. And Friday is 'Partner up for a fight against drugs.' You have to find a friend and dress up in the same outfit.
         The girls love this week because it's a break from their normal routine. But I still wonder how many kids won't do drugs because they wore their clothes inside out for a day? I have my doubts and like all parents should do I have had frank discussions with my children about drugs and the consequences. I know Bean. Don't tell her not to do something without a reason she can agree with, otherwise she'll do it just to spite me. I don't want her getting into drugs because she's trying to prove a point to her parents. Whatever she may perceive that point to be. And obviously, even the most diligent parent can't always prevent their children from doing stupid things but I do find that they do better when they understand the truth. So with Bean, because I know she works off facts and information, I let her watch two shows on the Discovery Channel about drug usage. The one show was about a Mother who was going to give birth in a prison because of drug usage. The other show was about a Mother who gave birth to a baby addicted to heroin. The shows were honest, real and explained consequences far more thoroughly than bringing your favorite stuffed animal to school will ever do. But I suppose schools have to try because unfortunately, not all parents are going to educate their children.


        Which brings us around to philosophy, strangely enough. Right now, I'm reading a book, 'Breakfast with Socrates' by Robert Rowland Smith.
         Why would I be reading a book on philosophy? Probably because one can only clean the toilet so many times before you wonder if Socrates was right when he said, "The unexamined life is not worth living." Or maybe, it's better not to think about how many you have cleaned crap off the porcelain surface.
         The word 'philosophy' translates to mean, the love of wisdom. Which, as I've been trying to teach Bean, being wise is completely different than being smart. Of course, no matter how many times I've done it or how much I hate it, I do think it's being pretty darn wise to clean the toilet...often too. :)
         I've just started the book, so I'm not much pass the chapters that are about waking up and getting ready in the morning. I'm currently studying the ideas of Descartes and the state of existing. He said something cool like, "I think, therefore I am."
         Can that translate to blogging? "I blog, therefore I am."
         I will have to ponder that for a while.

         (Grin.)