Pink Ink

Glad to be a dog?

pink_ink@q.com (Jewel/Pink Ink) — Tue, 08 Dec 2009 16:49:00 +0000

Pink Think: "If you think dogs can't count, try putting three dog biscuits in your pocket and then giving Fido only two of them." - Phil Pastoret

Photo: Our dog Little Anne waiting for me to feed her breakfast. Her dish is the faint red outline in the snow.

My family will often hear me at home saying, "I'm glad I'm not a dog." Especially when we are eating steak and the dogs stare at us hopefully. Or when it's freezing cold and the dogs want to go outside in their dog run.

After the snowfall last night, today is one of those days.

Here's another photo of the dog dishes. And my slippered feet. Note to self: wear closed shoes next time.

***
There has got to be some good reasons why someone would say "I would be glad to be a dog." What are they?

Would You Like A Sample?

pink_ink@q.com (Jewel/Pink Ink) — Sat, 05 Dec 2009 16:21:00 +0000

Pink Think: "You know you are on the road to success if you would do your job, and not be paid for it." - Oprah Winfrey

Photo from iateapie.net

I didn't get the job. I signed up to be one of those people that hand out food at our local grocery store and they had enough people already. Which was a bummer.

However, all is not lost. Because this was front and center in my mind, it gave me a short story idea which I will use for my entry in our paper's annual holiday writing contest.

So this year, I am going to be on my best behavior and write a short story that doesn't have a macabre ending, like this:

Please Do Not Disturb

I will go for one of those Hallmarky type stories that make you go Aww at the end. We'll see if I have it in me. It is entirely possible, since I have written romance before, even though it's not your typical holiday romance, like this:

Holiday Hiccups

***
I still went to the store and made my rounds, not so much to sample the food but to talk to the sample-hander-outers (what exactly they're called, I don't know). And I discovered something.

As I've never done this job before, I think of it pretty romantically as in "I hand people food and make them happy." Reality is, handing out fliers sometimes doesn't spell fun (no one wants them) and you have to work Sundays.

But I guess in small doses, what better way to spend some time at the store around the holidays than giving people free food?

***
What job would YOU enjoy doing, not to make money per se, but just because it looks like fun?

Why Being A Flake Is Good

pink_ink@q.com (Jewel/Pink Ink) — Wed, 02 Dec 2009 06:43:00 +0000

Pink Think: "Nature is full of genius, full of the divinity; so that not a snowflake escapes its fashioning hand." - Henry David Thoreau

Photo from onelilcupcake.com

My family and I made snowflakes the other night out of paper. I cut mine the "traditional" way, then held up my handiwork. My oldest said, "You made it how it's supposed to look like!" I told her I loved their creative snowflakes. I loved that they made them all different and nontraditional looking.

***
As I go out and try to leave my creative mark on the world, I realize more and more that we are all different. And it's okay!

For our church Christmas program in a couple of weeks, I will be singing as part of a trio. One of the ladies I am singing with has a beautiful soprano voice. Mine is a low alto. When we get the notes right and harmonize, it's a very interesting blend. If we sounded the same, then we would be...the same.

***
My mind is not too much on Christmas preparations yet because:

Unless I hear otherwise, I will be giving out samples of food for our local grocery store on Friday, for their Christmas promotion. It's a 4-hour temp job that I have always wanted to do, I kid you not. I've always wanted to give out the free food at the grocery store, smile and talk to people. I hope I hope this pans out.

I love the internet! I am discovering some freelance outlets that I might not otherwise know of unless my town has a library that subscribes to the national magazines. I have decided that in order for me to move forward in my freelancing career (and earn more money to get a nicer guitar), I should query bigger markets. I stall for time because I am teensy weensy scared of querying and actually getting an assignment; also, because I am not sure how to go about it. So I will do something about this. I will research the process and query away. Jessica Burkhart (who freelanced extensively as a teenager and is now a published author of a popular horse series) is my inspiration.

Next week, I will be providing background music (singing while playing acoustic guitar mostly Christmas songs) for a festival of lights in a neighboring town. I'm both excited and terrified. But I know it'll be good for me to stretch this way. "What if no one comes?" I asked my husband. He said, "Then you won't have pressure." Either way, it'll be an experience to remember.

Slowly but surely, I am progressing in my current novel. I've just introduced a ghost and I like her a lot.

Life is good!

***
Psst. Let's be flakes together. One, two, three, float-dance-spin and have an adventure!

Playing The Game

pink_ink@q.com (Jewel/Pink Ink) — Mon, 30 Nov 2009 16:13:00 +0000

Pink Think: "It's all about people. It's about networking and being nice to people and not burning any bridges. Your book is going to impress, but in the end it is people that are going to hire you." - Mike Davidson

Photo by p_muniz on Flickr

How was your Thanksgiving? I had a wonderful Thanksgiving dinner with my parents. I felt warm fuzzies hearing my 69 year old dad laugh with my kids as we watched Tom and Jerry cartoons. I myself laughed with guilty pleasure over the slapstick humor. I also loved Three Stooges and Jerry Lewis movies growing up. What can I say? I am an 11-year old boy trapped in a girlie-girl persona.

***
This weekend, I blog-surfed and discovered I am not playing The Game.

Networking, that is.

I could visit more blogs and comment more, but I don't.
I could cultivate a friendship with my favorite authors and editors, but I don't.
I could get my name out there on writing blogs, but I don't.

Instead: I am writing my stories and kind of keeping to myself nowadays.

***
I used to be more caught up with the social scene. When I was in college, I put myself in a tizzy being so many different things to so many people. Thank goodness I met my husband my senior year or I would never have settled long enough to connect with him.

Early on when I launched my blog, I tried to gather a following. And then came the day I thought, to heck with popularity. I will be me and sometimes if I am witty, that's great. And if I'm not, well, take me as I am.

I get how I will have the occasional reader who happens upon my blog and leaves a comment. And friends and family are super-supportive. But sometimes I wonder why complete strangers click my follow button. Because this isn't a fireworks and dancing-girls kind of a blog, ya know? I mean, I'd hate to let anyone down if they have some sort of expectation about getting their money's worth.

***
My Pink Think above haunts me.

Will this be my undoing? *evil laughter*

Count Your Blessings

pink_ink@q.com (Jewel/Pink Ink) — Wed, 25 Nov 2009 15:23:00 +0000

Pink Think: "When I started counting my blessings, my whole life turned around." - Willie Nelson

Photo by 20six.fr

In the spirit of Thanksgiving, I am posting lyrics to one of my favorite songs of all time, and which was also a lullaby my father used to sing to me.

COUNT YOUR BLESSINGS
from the 1954 movie White Christmas

When I'm worried and I can't sleep
I count my blessings instead of sheep
And I fall asleep counting my blessings

When my bankroll is getting small
I think of when I had none at all
And I fall asleep counting my blessings

I think about a nursery and I picture curly heads
And one by one I count them as they slumber in their beds

If you're worried and you can't sleep
Just count your blessings instead of sheep
And you'll fall asleep counting your blessings

I think about a nursery and I picture curly heads
And one by one I count them as they slumber in their beds

If you're worried and you can't sleep
Just count your blessings instead of sheep
And you'll fall asleep counting your blessings

***
I am thankful for

a wonderful husband
sweet kids
supportive friends
the gospel of Jesus Christ
good health
the opportunity to write
living in a free country
cotton candy, gumballs, and dental floss
music

***
Happy Thanksgiving, dear readers! What blessings are YOU thankful for?

Keeping The Faith

pink_ink@q.com (Jewel/Pink Ink) — Mon, 23 Nov 2009 18:57:00 +0000

Pink Think: "If one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with success unexpected in common hours." - Henry David Thoreau

Photo from somegosoftly.com

I'm seeing a glimmer of light.

For the past few months, I have been querying literary agents about three novels: Ghost Moon Night, a YA historical paranormal; Girl From Gurian, a YA historical and The King's Angel (formerly The Spanish Exile), historical suspense.

So far, no bites.

Today, I got a different sort of reply to my query letter and sample chapter for The King's Angel. This is the second time this literary agent has given me a more personalized reply (okay, so the first one was two sentences, but it was still personalized). She wrote:

Thank you for thinking of me, Jewel. Yours is a fine query letter and your writing sample is good. But for some reason, I just wasn't drawn into the story -- I really think it's simply a matter of taste, since you write well. I've decided to pass but this is a very subjective rejection, so I urge you to keep trying elsewhere; best of luck.

I wonder if she knows how much her kindness means to me.

***
It's hard to stay positive in the face of rejections. Especially in the middle of a novel draft that isn't going too well while a bestseller that shall not be named is very distractingly garnering a lot of attention this time of the year.

(What does that have to do with my writerly efforts, you say? Mainly that I feel like my writing or subject matter or music taste is nothing like Bestselling Author's thus therefore I am tempted to think there might not be any market potential to my story.)

So I really really appreciated this agent's reply. It helps me want to continue. And to have faith in what I am trying to achieve.

***
Yesterday I was driving to my in-laws' place at the foothills of these rugged mountains, thinking...people made this place what it is because of one thing.

Faith.

They came and saw a God-forbidding desert with little water and less to commend it to the settlers. But with hard work, determination and a vision, they built a thriving, beautiful city.

Much the same way, I can let my rejections get me down or think of them as a learning tool and stepping stone to my dreams. With hard work, determination and loyalty to my vision, I can reach my goals.

***
What is YOUR dream? And how do YOU keep going?

YA Novel Discovery Contest

pink_ink@q.com (Jewel/Pink Ink) — Thu, 19 Nov 2009 16:35:00 +0000

Pink Think: "I wrote my first novel because I wanted to read it." - Toni Morrison

Photo of Regina Brooks' Writing Great Books for Young Adults

Thanks to my blog pal Pendragon, I came across this really cool YA contest:

Young Adult Novel Discovery Contest

Go on, click on it, I'll wait.

Isn't that an amazing opportunity? I will have to sift through my openers/story files and decide what might be a good fit.

Good luck to everyone who enters!

Looking Out My Window

pink_ink@q.com (Jewel/Pink Ink) — Thu, 12 Nov 2009 15:57:00 +0000

Pink Think: "I'm just a landscape painter. I look out the window and I see what's going on, and I paint it. While I'm painting it, I also write thoughts about what I see going on out there." - William Wiley

Photo from Rochester Institute of Technology

I'm sitting at my kitchen table near my kitchen window getting ready to keep writing the novel that wouldn't go away. Yes, dear friends, I have decided to heck with market, I will write this thing if it kills me.

I like sitting by a window to write. Gets my creative juices flowing.

***
Just some random observations looking out my (mind's) window:

I can see into my neighbor's yard and thought I saw a baboon. Turns out it's just our neighbor's red standard poodle.

My high school classmates are finding me on Facebook. I am not all that sure I want to be found. Facebook feels eerily like high school. And I just don't want to be witty all the time, ya know?

If Taylor Lautner shows up at the New Moon premiere with Taylor Swift on his arm, who will get the loudest cheers: Taylor Swift or Stephenie Meyer?

Lost and Found

pink_ink@q.com (Jewel/Pink Ink) — Tue, 10 Nov 2009 16:14:00 +0000

Pink Think: "There is no comparison between that which is lost by not succeeding and that which is lost by not trying." - Francis Bacon

Photo from writersunlimited.com

Eureka, I found it! I found a boxed copy of nearly 300 pages of a historical novel set in 18th century Spain I wrote I few years ago called The Spanish Exile. The box was languishing in the basement.

As this was my first real attempt at a novel (but not my first draft), I read it with cautious optimism. To my surprise, I liked it. Sure, it might not be Pulitzer quality, but it had elements that I enjoy in a good book: a dashing hero, danger, romance, swordfights, villains, real history as backdrop, royalty, and hair-raising escapes. Best of all, it made me laugh and the passages sounded "real". Why ever did I abandon this project?

Maybe because I thought, as a first novel, it didn't deserve to see the light of day. Maybe because at a writer's conference, someone said if the two protagonists do not end up together, she would be very disappointed. Maybe because I got distracted by other projects.

Whatever the reason, I have begun querying agents about it for the first time. Although not an expert, I feel like I am more savvy now about querying, so in some ways I am glad I didn't shop this around earlier.

***
While I query this novel, I am wondering if I should keep writing this multicultural story that has been rattling in my head for so long. What prompted this hesitation was author Aprilynne Pike's post on writing goals (Hi Aprilynne!).

What do I really hope for as a writer?

I want to see a book I've written on a bookstore shelf.
I want to see my name on proverbial author klieg lights (i.e. not be obscure).
I want my writing to be able to finance splurges like a nice guitar and trips abroad with my family. (i.e. make good money)
I want to illuminate life through my fiction.

So I questioned whether or not my Philippine stories would help me achieve #2 and #3. I grew up there but also have spent more than half my life in the U.S. now, so I really could just write about the American experience. Part of me says, the Philippine angle is part of my makeup and is what makes me unique. Part of me echoes an agent that judged my first 250 words in an online contest, paraphrased: I am not sure there's a market for this setting.

Which actually is the reason I resurrected The Spanish Exile. I can't tell you how relieved I was to find a manuscript I feel like I could shop around without having to still write it!

***
I asked my 14-year-old daughter why she reads the books she does (fantasy and horse books). She said a fantastical setting for a story is easier to believe in than say, zombies in the Philippines (because the Philippines is a real setting). I want to write a book my daughter can really enjoy, but I must admit, fantasy has never been my cup of tea. Even though horsey books have a devoted market (I am the mother of a rabid fan) and I know more now than I did five years ago as a newbie horse owner, I don't know if I will truly enjoy a writing career built around horses (I am not horse-crazy.)

***
So many thoughts, jumbled in my mind, foremost is: Which way do I go from here to achieve my goals?

Patchwork Quilt

pink_ink@q.com (Jewel/Pink Ink) — Sun, 08 Nov 2009 00:55:00 +0000

Pink Think: "Use a make-up table with everything close at hand and don't rush; otherwise you'll look like a patchwork quilt." - Lucille Ball

Photo from what-me.com

First of all, just in case you are wondering, I am not doing National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) this year. (Are you? How is it going?) That's because I have a story that has taken a hold of me and wouldn't let go, and I started it well before this month.

It's been several years' worth of work, as it turns out.

***
I was looking for an old manuscript of mine called The Spanish Exile, which is a historical swashbuckling novel set in Spain and the Philippines, my first real attempt at a novel from four or so years ago.

I can't find it. Which worries me because as bad as first novels go, it was a finished draft. I must have gotten rid of it at one point - several points? - in my writing career when I was very discouraged.

Instead I found various attempts of the same multicultural YA story that has gone by different titles and in various states of polishing. It's about as organized if I had tossed these papers in the air and piled them together.

Hodge podge. Mishmash. A patchwork quilt. But it must be an important enough story to me I've tried to get it out to the world numerous times.

Can this manuscript be saved? Stay tuned.

***
Do YOU have a story or project like that? One that wouldn't let you go?

God's Gift To Me

pink_ink@q.com (Jewel/Pink Ink) — Tue, 03 Nov 2009 06:43:00 +0000

Pink Think: "You don't choose your family. They are God's gift to you, as you are to them." - Desmond Tutu

A friend of mine commented that my blog doesn't seem to have a whole lot of photos to go with stories of my kids. I agreed. Kind of a conscious decision on my part to not put them up on display I guess.

I mean...they do some really cute things, like the other day, I was putting something in the laundry sorter and I heard a step behind me which I assumed was my husband's. So I say, to continue a discussion we had earlier, "Do you think someone scared of a lot of things is wimpy or just has an overactive imagination?" And I hear a "Huh?" from my son.

I could go on and on and on.

But toddler-cute is different than tween-cute or teen-cute. Somehow, it feels more invasive of their privacy to quote them to strangers. Thus I have become more circumspect about them.

***
That said, here is a photo and post I would like to share with anyone who will care to listen. Because as proud as I am of my writings or achievements from my halcyon days and not-so-halcyon days, what I am most proud of is this:

This family photo was taken this past Sunday. The warm sheen comes from the setting sun and the happy occasion.

That day, my son (who just turned 12) was ordained a deacon in the LDS/Mormon church. Just look at how he is soon going to surpass us (okay, me) in height. I took him shopping for shoes the other day yet again; he outgrows them every two months. Big shoes to match his big heart.

That day, my little one in the middle pouted because I told her to please change back into her dress for a family picture. I could just kiss her all day; that's her privilege as the youngest. And she knows it.

That day, my oldest daughter received her Young Women (church) medallion - equivalent to Eagle in Scouts. She is down-to-earth, works hard but enjoys life, and tries to do the right thing. How did she get this way at 14? I sure wasn't at that age.

My husband...I flit around like a butterfly and he is always waiting patiently. He knows better than to catch me in his fist. He gives generously and I bask in the warmth of his love and acceptance.

Pardon my gushing but my heart is full.

Ten Scary Things

pink_ink@q.com (Jewel/Pink Ink) — Sun, 01 Nov 2009 05:59:00 +0000

Pink Think: "Everybody in their own imagination decides what scary is." - Yvonne Craig

Photo from people.howstuffworks.com

In the spirit of Halloween, and in reply to the awards that Jessica of Cougar Tales, LeSan of Blue Gate Gardens and Georgie of Author's Desk have bestowed upon me (thank you!) here is a list of ten things that scare me:

1. Ghosts and ghost stories. As a child, my relatives always treated us to scary stories at family gatherings.

2. Heights. I don't like climbing ladders or going on roofs.

3. Covers over my head. I get claustrophobic.

4. That when I come home from vacation, I would find my house burned down. When we round that corner and I see my house intact, I breathe a sigh of relief.

5. Being stranded on an island without dental floss

6. Head hunting tribes

7. Buildings without a thirteenth floor. My mind keeps wanting to search for that missing floor.

8. My husband appearing behind me as though from nowhere. He just has to walk up to me and I jump! I am always accusing the poor thing of sneaking up on me.

9. Nightmares where I do something dastardly. And I wake up guilty. (What a relief to realize it was just a dream, but still I wonder...am I capable of that?)

10. Twilight Zone episodes from when I was a child and which now inspire my horror fiction

***
What scares YOU?

Smile and Wave

pink_ink@q.com (Jewel/Pink Ink) — Sun, 25 Oct 2009 14:23:00 +0000

Pink Think: "Everytime you smile at someone, it is an action of love, a gift to that person, a beautiful thing." - Mother Teresa

Photo by beezy on Flickr

Just a few blocks from my house, a mom of kids I know from my children's school does something that just absolutely amazes me. She is a crossing guard, one of those important but (to me) would probably be a tedious job.

She smiles and waves.

When she has a sub for the day, I realize that I have begun to count on her smile and wave. One of these days I will have to tell her thanks for putting a smile on my face as our lives intersect that day.

***
I held on to that image of her smiling and waving later Thursday, when I went in to see my mom at the E.R. for a mini-stroke. Fortunately, Mom was discharged the next day and the CT Scan showed no brain damage, but for a while, I had these very dark thoughts.

That smile and wave pulled me through.

***
Not to make light of my mom's health, but I got a story idea when I visited her. On my way up to her room for the night, I realized in the elevator that there wasn't a 13th floor in her hospital tower. Technically speaking, Mom's floor was the 13th floor, but it was called 14th. And my strange mind began thinking these interesting storylines...

Boo!

Why I Write Boy-Stories

pink_ink@q.com (Jewel/Pink Ink) — Wed, 21 Oct 2009 05:28:00 +0000

Pink Think: "It would have been easier to have a male protagonist, but I didn't want people to assume that Nikki Hill was me in her entirety because a lot of people just don't like me and I don't think they would be interested in reading about me, even in the fictional context." - Christopher Darden

Photo from bing.com

My oldest recently had a bone to pick with me. She said, "How come you never write stories with a strong girl as lead protagonist?"

"I wrote about a princess in my last one," I pointed out.

"Yes," she conceded, "but other than that...?"

I opened my mouth to protest, then shut it. Coz she was probably right.

***
Let's see, some of the stories I have written in the last three years:

The Spanish Exile - historical novel - male protagonist
Ghost Moon Night - historical paranormal - male protagonist
Girl From Gurian - historical romance - female protagonist
Rosalie's New Hobby - contemporary short story - female protagonist
Coconut Island - horror short story - male protagonist
Roadkill Grill - horror short story - male protagonist
Please Do Not Disturb - horror short story - male protagonist

***
Reasons why I usually write stories with a boy as main character:

1. I can write autobiographically without being obvious.
2. I can write about emotional situations and my character can remain fairly stoic without coming across as cold.
3. I can put romance in and avoid getting too sappy.
4. I find it easier to write "funny" from a male point of view than a female's.
5. I feel like I can write about darker and more disturbing subjects.

***
To appease my daughter I told her I should write a story sometime soon with a female protagonist as lead. She said, "With manatees."

"Female lead, check." I said. "Manatees. Check."

Hey, come to think of it, this summer, I had started a mermaid fantasy set in the Philippines. Maybe it is time for me to dust it off.

***
To you fiction writers out there, do you find it easier or more fun to write from the POV of your gender or not?

Ain't No Sunshine

pink_ink@q.com (Jewel/Pink Ink) — Mon, 19 Oct 2009 06:01:00 +0000

Pink Think: "Ain't no sunshine when he's gone, It's not warm when he's away, Ain't no sunshine when he's gone, And he's always gone too long, Anytime he goes away." - adapted from Bill Withers song

Ain't No Sunshine...for this deer widow. So here I am singing Bill Withers' song.

(Love you darling! Happy birthday. Get your deer and come home soon.)

Moon River

pink_ink@q.com (Jewel/Pink Ink) — Sat, 17 Oct 2009 05:53:00 +0000

Pink Think: "The wheel is come full circle." - William Shakespeare

I have been learning a lot of songs lately on acoustic guitar. My kids hear me practice sometimes. And every other night, I take turns with my husband singing them a lullaby. Last night, as I tuck in my girls, I tell them, "You know the songs I sing. What would you like me to sing to you?"

My oldest hesitates. "What do you want to sing?"

"You pick," I say.

"Okay. Moon River."

Moon River is not one I have learned on guitar. But it has been my lullaby to them since they have been little. That and Someone's Waiting For You, the theme from the Disney movie Rescuers.

So I sing it sans guitar.

***
I still remember my favorite lullaby as a child, the one my dad used to sing to me. It was...Moon River.

Did YOU have a favorite lullaby as a child? What was it?

Yes! We Have No Cats Today

pink_ink@q.com (Jewel/Pink Ink) — Wed, 14 Oct 2009 21:25:00 +0000

Pink Think: "Yes! We have no bananas today." - from a Broadway song

Dear neighbor:

Thanks for coming over early this morning to help us out. Bet you were surprised when you saw your cat curled up in a cat bed on our front porch bench.

We only bought a cat bed because every morning for the past few weeks your cat curls up on our bench cushions and it's time for me to put away the cushions for the season but I didn't have the heart to not give him shelter from the cold night.

The kids only pet him a lot because he loves the cat bed and has been sleeping in it most of the day, so when the kids get home he is there to greet them.

We only have to pull the dogs away from the bench on our way to our nightly walk so they don't sniff and frighten him.

But he's still yours, I promise.

Because contrary to how it looks, I still haven't given in to the kids about having a cat.

Sincerely,
Jewel

PS If you don't get the title, you should watch Sabrina starring Audrey Hepburn.

Fourth Graders and A Dead Lizard

pink_ink@q.com (Jewel/Pink Ink) — Thu, 08 Oct 2009 18:50:00 +0000

Pink Think: "There are no rules of architecture for a castle in the clouds." - Gilbert K. Chesterton

photo from blog.myspace.com

I went into my fourth grader's class today and told them to imagine a dead lizard.

I read to them a short story I had written about a fictional dead lizard their class wanted to keep as a pet and had them each write their own ending. You can find it (the story, not the lizard) here in my horror fiction blog. Though it isn't a horror story, it is about a dead lizard so I thought it was close enough.

After I read the page-long story, I gave them five minutes to come up with their own ending. I myself didn't really know what the ending was. One of the kids said their teacher put gum on the feet of the dead lizard and threw it at a teacher next door; another said their teacher dove out the window and saved the lizard. Many brought back the lizard to life; it wasn't dead, kidding!

I loved watching their excited faces. Yeah! Fiction rocks.

***
I had the hardest time writing the story because, well, when you know that these kids are reading Fablehaven and Harry Potter, the pressure is high. Plus, I usually write horror stories that involve disturbing things, and I knew this audience wasn't the Stephen King crowd. I went ahead anyway and gave it my best shot, then was pleased to hear some chuckles as I read the story, which featured my daughter and her best friend.

Unfortunately, my own daughter didn't want me to read her ending; neither did she want to read it herself, so her ending is a mystery to me, the stinker. I tried to tell her, "I am the teacher," but that didn't work.

***
I get to volunteer and do this once a month for my daughter's class. It sure beats making copies and correcting papers.

Why I Walked Away

pink_ink@q.com (Jewel/Pink Ink) — Wed, 07 Oct 2009 14:18:00 +0000

Pink Think: “You can learn to fly and you can chase your dreams; you can laugh and cry, but everybody knows you’ll always find your way back home, where they know exactly who you are; where the real you is a superstar.” – from the song You’ll Always Find Your Way Back Home in Hannah Montana: The Movie

photo by SEI PROD on Flickr

It was ridiculous, really.

I was watching Hannah Montana last night with my family and in the middle of one of Miley Cyrus’ rock numbers, I had to leave and bawl like a baby in the bedroom.

I thought, I’ll never rock again.

***
Sorry. I know that was a little melodramatic. But after a few days of wrangling over my decision to quit my rock band and finally doing it, a good cry felt good.

Quit. Ugh. I hate that word. I’d just as soon stick my toes in a bathtub of ravenous piranha than be a quitter.

I really didn’t want to quit. I wanted to just grit my teeth and try to make it work, but I couldn’t. I had to walk away before we committed to another gig.

***
Saying I quit for “family reasons” is a little simplistic, although I was missing a lot of my kids’ games. On the day of our recent performance, I skipped out on my oldest's volleyball game, her last one in a season where I had not been able to attend a single game of hers due to band practice.

I suppose when push came to shove, the band could have met another time, or less frequently. Ultimately, it was about family though. As in protecting my marriage. My male band mates were always gentlemanly, but working with them week in and week out, having to make that creative connection, was making demands on me emotionally and drawing away from my loyalty to my husband and kids. I tried just being professional and showing up to “work” but it felt about as fun as a root canal.

Also, as accommodating as my band had been about our playlist, I conceded some ground to songs that made me feel uncomfortable, even though to the casual listener – like my conservative husband - they seemed fairly innocuous. It wasn’t just songs with explicit lyrics, but songs that had a definite sensual undertone - heck, even just guitar riffs - that I’d never noticed before. When I had to practice the songs daily, I felt like I was constantly standing in a spiritually shadowy place. Although fairly amicable, the debates wrenched my gut. And I didn’t really look forward to further battles or eventually relaxing my standards.

***
I wish I’d realized this before I started. Or maybe I did and threw all caution to the wind because I wanted a chance to prove I could do it. And I didn’t want to say, years from now, what if?

I think I got the better end of the deal. My band has been generous with their patience and support, giving me the opportunity of a lifetime many people only dream about. The experience gave me confidence as a singer, nudged me towards songwriting, and rekindled my love of acoustic guitar. I hope, while I was in it, they couldn’t fault me for my dedication.

I won’t be giving up music. I plan to take group guitar lessons and hopefully perform solo on acoustic guitar. I will be scaling it back, however, and hopefully not have it consume my life. Because yes, there are other important things. Like family. And writing. And who knows what else is in store for me.

As I mulled my decision, I told my husband (who has been very hands-off in this whole process), “But I’ll be boring!” And my ever-patient husband looked me in the eye and said, in a knowing voice, “You’re never boring.”

Post-Band Blues

pink_ink@q.com (Jewel/Pink Ink) — Mon, 05 Oct 2009 17:06:00 +0000

Pink Think: "And the relationships that happen become so intense, deep, involved and complex and really hard to say goodbye to. The hardest part of the show is saying goodbye when it's all done. It really breaks you." - Genevieve Gorder

Photo by Kristine May on Flickr

I don't know how to say this without sounding schizophrenic, but I resigned from my rock band this weekend.

In case you haven't been following my posts here and on my rock band blog, I auditioned as the lead singer of a local rock band in March and performed with them as recently as last Thursday. My band mates have been gracious with my exit but understandably bewildered.

***
Sometime, I will reflect about it, but suffice to say that it was the hardest thing I've had to do lately. Walk away from the band, that is, on the coattails of a concert and a promising future. Maybe even harder than gathering the courage to audition for the band.

I feel like I am coming off a sugar high, though I am calmer than I have felt in a while.

Reality hasn't hit yet. Perhaps Thursday will come around and I will be wondering where I am supposed to be that evening, and then bam, I will remember.

I've got the post-band blues.

***
What's the hardest thing YOU have had to do lately?

Rock Star Mode

pink_ink@q.com (Jewel/Pink Ink) — Fri, 02 Oct 2009 14:59:00 +0000

Pink Think: "I lead two totally separate lives. There are times when I have to slip into rock star mode." - Martin Gore

My band and I rocked a military base yesterday.

(I wasn't exactly going for the tough chick look with those biker gloves. Temperature was in the 40s and dropping.)

We followed a polka band (the celebration was Oktoberfest) who got the crowd dancing to the Funky Chicken (including yours truly).

When our turn came, the crowd was sparse, but those that did stay were awesome. Mostly teenagers who danced to one song (to earn tips for their school band fundraiser) and our cool and devoted roadies. I even had my groupies (some Filipinas who I met that night).

My favorite parts of the night: when we did a sound check to Stand by Me while the crowd watched and I felt like we proved ourselves; when we had a 20-something friend of the drummer sub late in our playlist and it turned into an exciting jam session; and when the school band danced and I tried really hard to not dissolve into giggles.

Click here for our playlist.

I knew it was frigid when my teeth started chattering and my microphone was wet from my breath. But it was a blast: I sang through the list, we had no meltdowns, and we played our hearts out.

Writer's Ballad

pink_ink@q.com (Jewel/Pink Ink) — Wed, 30 Sep 2009 13:32:00 +0000

Pink Think: " Music in the soul can be heard by the universe." - Lao Tzu

Photo by gkojaxlabo on Photobucket

If I am a writer

Then why do I play my fingers to the nub
On a cheap Ibanez guitar
And sing Tears in Heaven like I mean it?

If I am a writer

Then why do I have a rock concert tomorrow
In a military base, not a Big One
But which feels like it has a lot riding on it?

If I am a writer

Then why do I spend much of my day
Singing songs other people wrote
Or thinking up songs I could sing.

My Music overwhelms the Writing
Shouting to be heard

Perhaps it is enough for now
That I write at the tire store waiting for my truck;
In snatches at home or waiting for a soccer kid

In between my music

Raining Hay Bales

pink_ink@q.com (Jewel/Pink Ink) — Mon, 28 Sep 2009 14:07:00 +0000

Pink Think: "I think the Lower East Side inspires me. That whole neighborhood, a lot of the people that I worked with, seeing what we've gone through in life, being given an opportunity to understand who I am; my identity, my culture, and my roots." - Luis Guzman

Woke up Sunday morning to the wonderful sight of hay bales spread out on the field behind our house. So calm, with just the distant click click of a tractor, I could hear the buzz of bees as the sun lazily enveloped me.

I never imagined as a little girl I would be living in a Utah farming community of 5,000, raising horse-riding kids and loving it.

I love that my kids can walk and bike around. That the grocery store manager knows me by name. That I can drive five minutes to the edge of town and not see houses, just mountain and meadow. That hay bales dot my backyard. That I can still experience rural America.

***
In contrast, this is where I grew up...

photo: AP / Philippine Air Force, Sgt. Rey Bruna

...the Philippines. If you have been following the news lately, you know parts of this Asian country has been deluged with flooding, causing much devastation. Picture this: a month's rainfall in 12 hours.

I got a text from my sister-in-law this morning saying they are safe. What glad news. And I pray for the others.

***
Miles away in the desert where we search the sky for signs of rain, it is hard for me to conjure rainfall of that magnitude.

I do remember school days when umbrella and jacket was de rigeur, my Buster-brown type shoes and socks usually waterlogged. Tadpoles in puddles along the way. Sometimes school got canceled and we stayed home happy to sit in candlelight if there was a blackout. Made wax figures out of candle drippings. Or floated paper boats in the house, in ankle-deep water. And other times we drove through streets so flooded that when we went to church in our gigantic Toyota, it felt like we were boating.

The typhoons, the floods - just part of living there. Filipinos are a resilient people. I'm grateful I grew up there and for memories which make their way into my stories. We lived, laughed, and learned, just as my children are doing in our neighborhood today.

***
What is YOUR neighborhood like? Is it different from the one YOU grew up in?

Never Hit a Plateau

pink_ink@q.com (Jewel/Pink Ink) — Fri, 25 Sep 2009 13:46:00 +0000

Pink Think: "I'm always improving and I want to get better and never hit a plateau. I find it an amazing adventure." - Nigel Kennedy

Photo from Democrat and Chronicle.com

Thank you all for your kind comments on my last post. After I indulged in a pity party, I took a deep breath, assessed my situation and decided my dad was right. He didn't say I was a terrible singer, after all, just that I could be better.

***
I am a better writer today because I have had help along the way. I was writing in this lonely little nook of my world when I met other writers who have not only given me helpful critiques and contacts but who have become good friends.

***
I took a step towards being a better singer by deciding to take voice lessons. I had my first one Wednesday. And guess what? I was nervous, it's hard work, and the results are not instantaneous but I enjoyed learning something new.

More material for my fiction!

***
Who has helped YOU in your journey in becoming a better ____________?

Astonishing By Way of Ordinary

pink_ink@q.com (Jewel/Pink Ink) — Wed, 23 Sep 2009 13:27:00 +0000

Pink Think: "There are no astonishing ways of doing astonishing things. All astonishing things are done by ordinary materials." - Benjamin Haydon

Photo of 'diamond in the rough' from gigfoot.net

When I first started writing fiction, I thought my stories were the cat's meow. That is, until I met other writers and read their work at conferences. And got feedback on my work. I realized I had a long way to go. Still do.

Recently, I unearthed an earlier version of a novel manuscript. It needed a lot of polish. But I had to start somewhere.

Early on, I never thought I could finish a novel. Now I have written three (or four if you count a memoir). I also never thought I'd be writing short stories. Here's a horror short story I recently wrote when I saw the phrase Roadkill on Grill on a writer's forum.

***
Over the last few months, I have gone from karaoke junkie to rock band singer. The other day, I unearthed my earliest recording, taken when I "auditioned". Omigosh. I'm not exactly a shoo-in for the rock and roll hall of fame currently, but I have come a long way from that first CD.

***
I was so proud of myself yesterday, playing for my mom and dad a CD recording of a song I wrote and performed with my band. Hey, I'm a songwriter now!

My dad's comment: "You're just an ordinary singer."

It was like the years fell away and I was a twelve year old again, wanting my dad's approval. For my singing. For my writing. And I realized that regardless, I will never be good enough for him.

***
How do I go on from here? I remind myself that I am improving with every practice, with every performance. Okay, so I'm ordinary; I can still bring joy to others through music and writing. They can only both get better with time and practice. Maybe even hit some astonishing highs if I am lucky.

I hear that diamonds come from coal.

***
How do YOU get past the naysayers?