“How do you know?”

“I’m just guessing.”

He never paused, but seemed a bit disappointed in my answer.  “Oh.  Well, I tasted heaven once.”

In case you’re wondering, Youngest isn’t fanciful.  Unlike his older two brothers who spun tales of dinosaurs visiting them in the night or their adventures aboard pirate ships, Youngest is a factual kind of kid.  He’s so factual, he doesn’t even lie.  In fact, he dropped his bombshell about tasting heaven in much the same way he would state that he ate pizza for lunch.  As a simple truth.

I needed to know more.  “When?”

“Well, one day after school I had a tummy ache–you were gone–and God came to visit me.  He gave me a piece of heaven to eat and said it would make my tummy feel better.”

“Did it?”

“Of course.”

And then he was on to other topics.  I immediately understood his disappointment in my assumption that my Mother’s Day foot massage felt like heaven when I’d had absolutely no experience with the actual place myself.

It kind of makes me wonder…

As adults, we often turn cynical in the way we view the world.  We rationalize and debate and search for proof and argue our viewpoints to the point of nausea.  We know what we know and we quit seeing the world through innocent eyes.

Young kids don’t see skin color or religion or sexual orientation or economic status.  They simply see other kids.  A potential playmate.  A friend.  Their take on “innocent until proven guilty” is “everything’s good, right and normal until we’re told otherwise.”

When writing for young kids, this is important to keep in mind.  Kids see the world very differently than we do.  They are not hardened by experience, shame, guilt, peer pressure or poverty.  They are sweetly innocent until life strips them of this most precious commodity.

It isn’t until the end of our life journeys that we yearn for a return to that innocence and sheer faith in the goodness of life.

When writing for middle schoolers or young adults, we must also keep this in mind.  Kids need validation for the tumultuous experiences they encounter.  But, they also need hope.  Hope for something better.  Hope for a brighter future.  Hope for a return of that innocence they once cherished.

Did God really minister a piece of heaven to Youngest when I was unable to do so myself?  I hope so, though I’ll never know.  The only true answer I have is that Youngest experienced this event in his mind and in his heart.  And that’s reality enough for him.  Who am I to tell him otherwise?

Do you believe kids have an inside track on certain things?  Do you feel that writers have a responsibility to foster hope and inspire change for the future?  How can we accomplish these tasks if we, ourselves, have already lost the magical wonder of a child?  And where can we find novel fodder so uniquely innocent besides the mind of the child?

Curious minds want to know.

P.S.  Spell Check thinks massage is wrong.  It wants me to replace the a with an e.  I’ve never had a foot message before, but I suppose it could be interesting.  And yet another example of things writers cannot make up on their own!

We’ve been blessed to have had such a wonderful and unfaltering friendship between our two families.  In fact, our collective kids consider each other cousins.  In this respect, we’ve proven the old adage wrong–you can pick your family.

Another myth I’d like to dispel is that writer’s can’t pick their agents, editors or publishers.  I believe we writers can become so starved to see our writing validated that we send queries or submission packages out to any and every breathing professional in the publishing industry.  We don’t consider the long-term impact of accepting offers from less than stellar representatives in the writing arena.

Due diligence, my friends.

Our quasi family has the same morals and values as we have.  They value family and faith.  They respect their children and have strong relationships with them.  They are kind and compassionate, honest and filled with integrity.  They’re fun-loving and generous.  They are the kind of people I’d choose for family.

Similarly, this kind of compatibility is possible within the publishing industry if we choose to do the work.  We must research our options, talk with agents and editors before signing with them and discuss future goals to make sure we’re all on the same page.

CAT’S GUIDE TO PICKING YOUR PUBLISHING PROFESSIONAL

• KNOW YOUR NEEDS: Create a list of what you want and need from your professional.  Promotion, editing, submitting, validation, publishing, Best Seller sales…the list is endless, and specific to each writer.  Know what YOU need and want and why.  It may be vastly different than the writer in the next computer over.  And that’s a good thing.
• RESEARCH: Sales, clients, policies.  Dig deep to find out what peeps are really saying.  And what they aren’t saying.  Go beyond Google and don’t be afraid of what you might find.  If you find yourself reluctant to read the dirt, then you’re not ready to pick your professional.  You need to KNOW what you need to know.
• MATCH YOUR NEEDS TO YOUR RESEARCH: It is completely irrelevant what everyone else is doing and who they’re doing it with.  What’s important is how your professional fits with your needs and desires.  These things should fit together like puzzle pieces.

Once you figure out who you want and why, you can begin courting your professional.  Make your contacts meaningful.  Be a professional yourself.  Work harder and smarter to build a relationship with your chosen few.

What’s important to you in a publishing professional?  How do you research your prospective professionals?  How do you court them, and have you been successful in your endeavors to pick your professional?

Curious minds want to know.

This was day two and roughly fifteen hours before I found out my father-in-law was coming to spend the night on his way to a business trip.  Talk about a mad scramble to sort, trash and repack.  Every item in every box that has been stored for nearly eight years was touched by me personally in two days.  The after picture is amazing.  You’ll have to trust me on that.

Anywho…then came the carpet–which I prepared for on Monday by moving my boy’s beds into the master bedroom along with half their toys and putting the rest on my dining room table.  Yeah, finding clothes in drawers stacked on other furniture is more fun than I can handle.  Finding the floor in the basement den is impossible, as that’s where they decided to camp out until the new carpet is laid.  Today the living room furniture will somehow have to squeeze into the dining room and entry way.

Next will be storing my kitchen cupboard stuff on the dining room table and the brand new carpet on the living room floor while my countertops are put in.  Lord have mercy.  My house is a bizaster.

Add to that baseball practices, proms, bullies and graduation menus and I’m a bizaster.

And my internet pooped out on me.  Again.  So, after an I’m-sorry-we’re-experiencing-longer-than-normal-delays-in-answering-your-call-please-stay-on-the-line service call to the cable company, I decided to clean out the 47 spam messages before tackling the living room shuffle.

This one made my day: “Your website is the electronic Swiss army knife of the cyber world.”

Aaaah.

I needed that, even if it was spam.

But sometimes it doesn’t matter where the message comes from or how it reaches us.  A tiny hug that lets you know you’re on the right path at just the right moment can give you a much-needed boost.

So today, as I sort through the bizaster of my house, I shall loudly proclaim myself The Swiss Army Knife.  I can.  I will.  I shall.

Dear readers, what kinds of unexpected messages have you received?  Have you ever said or done something so small you thought nothing of it until someone later told you it made a difference in his life?  Can we plan these spam messages to boost others around us, or is there some kind of cosmic force that delivers them at the right time to the right people?

Curious minds want to know.

If only I’d had my Swiss Army Knife complete with built-in turbo shovel for the storage room…

I think he’s right.  Orwell’s 1984 has never been more present than now.  And it’s not necessarily the government we need to fear.  It’s ourselves.

We put so much of ourselves into the vast world of technology that we no longer have any sort of privacy (says the blogger who connects nearly every writing post to real life).  It’s dang scary.

And while I occasionally get opinionated and loud about certain issues, my motto is: If I can’t say it to my mother, my mother-in-law or my pastor, I have no business saying it online, because inevitably, anyone from my kids to their teachers to the mayor to the president can feasibly read what I write or ogle every picture I ever post.

That’s fine.  President Obama doesn’t care that my dog eats socks and sleeps on her back in her kennel.  Or that I think kids get by with bullying because adults are too afraid to step in.  Or that our inability to address early literacy issues as a preventative measure literally condemns thousands of children to an adult life in poverty or prison.  That we spend far more money incarcerating adults who had potential but lacked the ability to read well, instead of helping them as at-risk kindergarteners learn to succeed is one of the greatest tragedies our country has ever created.  Economically, emotionally and socially.

The Pres doesn’t care about me and my thoughts.  But somebody does.  Actually, lots of somebodies potentially do.

They like every new account I create, every website I visit, every purchase I make, every hot button word I say, every picture I post.  They like it because it’s information.  And information, if used correctly, can cause damage.  It can destroy job security, rip apart marriages and financially cripple individuals who aren’t careful.  Heck, even those who are.

Every picture of that beer can in your underage hands can keep you from attaining that coveted scholarship.  Every snarky word you type into cyberspace can influence other’s opinions and decisions about you, including a judge’s should you get busted for spouting off about your illegal gun supply.

We are the guilty parties in Cyber Space 1984.  We want to be heard so much that we forget what not to say.  We rail against agents as we email query letter after query letter.  We snark off about certain authors and their less than stellar books only to later realize when our own books arrive on the shelves, authors are reviewers too.

We take pictures of naughty parts and pen less-than-pure prose as captions to our lovers, never believing our spouses may find them.  We threaten others every day with hate-filled words, never believing someone will use our prejudices to take us down.  We destroy our own integrity in a constant battle to be seen and heard by our friends, never really understanding that it’s not just our friends who hear us and see us.  It’s the entire cyber world.

And that world is a very big place.

I urge everyone, regardless of age, race, gender or profession to carefully consider the long-term impact of their cyber footprints before setting anything loose into the vast and unforgetting realm of social media.

Our words count.  They add up.  They create a picture of what we look like to the outside world.  And sometimes, that picture ain’t pretty.  Don’t hang yourself with your words.

My favorite saying of all time comes from William Backus.  “”The concept behind personal integrity is wholeness. When a person is the same without as within, when what others know about him is the same truth he knows about himself, he has integrity.”

So, if you believe yourself to be a kind and gentle soul, your words should reflect this.  If you’re crass and crude and selfish on the inside, then so be it.  Present this truth to the world.  Just remember, we alone are responsible for what we say and how we say it.  The sandbox/lunchroom/break room has just gotten bigger.

How do you feel about social media as a whole?  What responsibility do we have to ourselves to set clear rules of social media engagement?  And what might those rules look like?  What types of behaviors spell certain social media death?

Curious minds want to know.

I’m super proud of this accomplishment, and I hope he is, too.  You see, first doesn’t mean that any place behind it is null and void.  In fact, over 330 schools participated in Class 1A speech this past season.  Three hundred and thirty some.

Sound a little bit like writing?

If 330 aspiring writers sent off their manuscripts to an agent, the agent would request to see about 33 of them–or 10%.  In speech terms, this would be the narrowing down of kids via subsections and sections, where only 24 brave and articulate souls made it to state in each of the 13 categories (think genres).

While there, they had to perform in front of peers and judges to earn a spot in final rounds.  Only the top eight speechies in each category advanced to the stage to present their speech in front of a panel of judges.

Again, just like writing, the estimate on the streets is that two percent of writers will garner agent representation and make it to this prestigious round.  330 x 2% = 7ish.  I know.  Scary and disconcerting, right?  Yet my speechie didn’t choke and quit halfway through.  No, he prepared speech after speech after speech to make it into that elite 2%.  In writing terms, he nabbed his agent.

But lest we believe garnering interest of an agent is the end of the odds, consider further.  Of the 2% of writers who receive representation on a first novel, only half of them will get published.  ONLY HALF.

Holy crap!  Why bother, right?  I mean, of those 330 speechies writers, only 3-4 of them will get published.  With odds like that, we might as well dance in an electrical storm holding metal umbrellas.  At least then we’d have something to jolt us into reality.

But reality is that the top ten percent is something to be proud of.  It means we’re doing something right.  It means we’re getting closer.  It means we have a chance.

Garnering the backing of an agent is incredible.  It’s amazing and thrilling and wow…just wow!  Making it to final rounds during State Speech is incredible.  The top two percent of anything is outstanding and a great accomplishment.

Sixth in State.  It gets us a medal.  It tells us we’ve  wowed a panel of judges and deserve to be recognized.  The only thing it doesn’t give us is a publishing contract.

Yet.

Next year.  Next season.  Next manuscript.

Ten percent, two percent, one.

Dearest writers, how do you feel about where you’re at on the journey?  Have you cleared sections and made it to state?  Did you break finals and get to compete for that medal?  Have you missed it by *thismuch*? 

What are your plans for continuing?  Does this post make alternative publishing routes sound more appealing to you, or have you already begun walking that path?  If so, what are your experiences?

Curious minds want to know.

(As an aside, my DD is on the left.  She placed fourth last week with her persuasive speech on homosexual bullying within the school setting.  I’ve never been so proud of her and her absoulute confidence as I was watching her in final rounds.  She rocks my socks off and has way more courage than I ever had!  If you want to read her speech, you can find it under It’s Not about Sex on the Inspirations tab.)

At the tender ages of 13-17, those students who missed advancement to the next level already exhibit tremendous poise and grace.  They didn’t cry, spout angry expletives or pout.  Rather, they shook the hands of the winners and walked away vowing to try harder next year.  They cheered on the remaining speechies, wishing them luck and honestly celebrating their successes.

Speech is very personal. It challenges one’s abilities and confidence.  It builds character and hones life-long skills.  It can also be brutal, as contestants are critiqued and judged.  They are told each and every meet what they do right and what they do wrong.  They receive comments on anything from dress to poise, articulation to body language, pronunciation to speed, oral fluidity to memorization, and audience connection to their depth of emotion.

These kids have thick skin.

Remind you of anyone you know?

How do you handle the success of those who achieve your dreams?  Do you have the grace to honestly congratulate them and cheer them on, or do you feel compelled to complain and compare, wallowing in your unfair failures and their unfair success? 

 Do you have the thick skin it takes to be critiqued and judged and deemed less than worthy of a medal and advancement?  If not, why are you writing?  If so, what tips do you have to pursue this passionate, yet highly competitive, dream of publication? 

Curious minds want to know.

PS~ Keep your fingers crossed for our extemporaneous speaker.  He has 30 minutes to prepare a seven minute speech and then present it to a panel of judges.  The topics are current events, and with this being an election year, they are highly political.  Good training for future presidency!

“It looks like a dreamsicle threw up in here.”

He was right and I doubted my pick, even though I never told him that.  “You’ll see.  As soon as I get the rugs in and the pictures up and, and, and, it will be fine,” I said with fingers crossed and wishy-washy words falling from my lips.

Well, the rugs aren’t down yet and we have yet to replace the vanity light and sconce to match the chocolate-brown accents, but…

…last night DH approved.

“I just couldn’t see it until it was all put together.”

And that, my writer friends, is exactly why we need to spit-shine our submissions before sending them off to agents and editors or self-publishing them.

We must always, always send our very best.  It must not be the shell of an idea, stripped down to the paint on the wall.  Our manuscripts must be complete and compelling.  Touched up and accessorized perfectly to bring out the visions in our heads.

Only then can a reader appreciate what could be.  Because, until then, all they will see is a work in progress–a look that can be very ugly indeed.

Cat’s Guide to Avoiding Manuscript Vomit 

* If you feel compelled to send a different section of your manuscript than what is traditionally asked for, you’re not ready to query.

* If you “just finished writing my first novel”, you’re not ready for anything but a long break and a serious revision.

* If you made substantial changes to your manuscript during your last read-through, you’re not ready to unleash your writing on the reading public.

* If you feel as if replacing the faucet and countertop will make everything perfect, you must stop somewhere because you can’t afford a major remodel.  Which is the great thing about writing.  Every revision is free.  All it takes is time and dedication.

So, don’t sell yourself short by sending out a half-finished product.  Instead, take the time you need to satisfy your Inner Editor.  Listen to and learn all you can about the writing business.  I know you want your novel in the hands of readers right now.  So do I.  But, showing our babies to the world before they are truly ready will only garner rejections, negative reviews and heartbreak.

And the last thing we want to hear about our manuscripts is that they look like a hodge-podge of ideas and characters vomited onto the page.

So, go forth and remodel.  You have my permission.

After a morning at the vet clinic, it is clear that our geriatric lab is suffering tremendously.  She never complains–no whining or whimpering, no growling or yipping–and she’s never lost her temper in that curmudgeonly way aging animals do.  She’s as sweet as ever and loyal to a fault.

You see, despite every joint in her legs being affected, she still follows the kids up and down the stairs.  She still gets up whenever her humans look at her, talk to her or walk away.  She would lay down her life for any of us, a sad irony when you consider we now have to choose her fate.

If the pain medication does not ease her discomfort, we will have no choice.  If it does work, it’s likely that she will simply sleep all day in a drug-induced stupor, and we will be forced to choose between saying goodbye to our dearest family pet or keeping her alive despite her failed quality of life.

Her mind is sound.  Her eyes are bright and her love for us deep and more clear than if she could voice it.  My heart breaks at the very thought of what the next week will bring.

For some, trunking a novel elicits the same heartbreaking emotion.  We’ve lived and breathed these characters.  Heck, we’ve given birth to them.  By some estimates, the writing journey–from the first excited “Once upon a time” to “The End” of a book contract–averages ten years.  Ten years.

That’s how old Kallie is.

Saying goodbye to a manuscript or a beloved pet is never easy, yet sometimes, it is the right thing to do.

When the time comes, we will say goodbye to Kallie at the farm–hunting land that has been in the family for generations.  A few years ago, Middle Son received a tree for Arbor Day.  It’s planted on a crest overlooking the pond.  I can’t think of a better place for Kallie to rest in peace.

May your day be filled with hope and happiness.

Hugs~ Cat

Don’t get me wrong, it’s fun.  But it’s also a lot of hard work.  Colors must coordinate and styles must flow seamlessly from the tip of her top knot to her perfectly manicured toes.

Too much of anything is gaudy.  Too different is chaotic.  Less is definitely more.

In many ways, preparing a manuscript for submission is the same.  Less is more.

If you’re new to the writing gig, check out my list of references for a few books that can help accessorize your manuscript for your target agent/editor/audience.

For amazing websites or blogs on the business, please take a peek at my sidebar.  My favorite go-to places are yours for the asking.

What are some of your favorite writing resources?  What is your writing bible?  What blog do you turn to for all the answers?

Curious minds want to know.

Last week, my speech team prepared for sub-sections in a marathon of late night practices.  Adding to the mix were final preps for the Children’s Theatre of which I had two boys in, taxied a third to and fundraised for.  (And yes, I am fully aware that every one of those phrases ended with a preposition.  Sorry Mrs. Kirkeby.)  Throw in a baseball sign up night and an absent DH for a few days and you can see where this is heading…

Somehow, I managed to keep things relatively ordered–until the curtain opened on Friday night.  When the final act closed on Sunday afternoon, I felt like I had been home a total of five hours all weekend.

My house might disagree.  After all, how could I have left seven pairs of shoes on the floor in a mere five hours?  My speech bag is on the kitchen table, my sweater from yesterday is on the counter and my purse is in the bathroom.  I have several sets of keys strewn around the house, and I had to call my cell phone to find it amidst the rubble that has become Piglandia.

My writing life has moments of Piglandia as well.  For instance, I just finished my third beta read in as many weeks and have another downloaded on my Kindle.  I have a freelance project to wrap up, a speech to write for tonight, and, and, and.

My brain is bursting with plot bunnies (it must be spring) and I have my own manuscripts to scour for content and copy.  I’m a writing mess right now.

But, I’ve learned a thing or two about living in Piglandia–both in writing and in life.

I corral my plot bunnies (as found at From the Write Angle), I organize my keys projects in order of importance and stuff my shoes back into the closet where they belong.

When my world appears uncluttered on the surface, I gain a deeper level of calmness.  I don’t fret about messy closets and figure if someone peeks inside them, it’s their problem not mine.  After all, I know what each closet holds even if it looks more chaotic than a dozen clowns piling out of a VW Bug.  I even know where in the Bug individual clowns closet individual items might be.

It’s just a matter of getting them there in the first place.  Like I said, my house–and my writing world–is usually quite clean.  Just every once in a while, things pile up and I need a moment to declutter Piglandia and regain my balance.

How about you, dear writers?  What do you do when things pile up and threaten to overtake you?  Do you have calming chaos like me and my closets?  If so, what is your vice?  Or, is your home/writing life spit-shined to perfection in every nook and cranny?  If so, how in the heck do you do it?

Curious minds want to know.