LifePundit

I Would Rather be Hot than Cold

I just got back from Pony Club camp in Tryon, N.C. It's the kind of camp where you don't drop off your kids and their ponies/horses and head off for some fun, and parents do the work. I'm a parent. This is bad news.

And if that isn't gruesome enough, it was so very, very hot. I found myself texting Paul, "I wanna come home." I felt like I was back at camp in sixth grade sending homesick letters to my mother.

We were there over 12 hours a day and it was brutally hot. I wondered how I could stand it. Then I would remember Philadelphia, and try not to complain. I would rather be hot than cold. That's one of the few things I am certain is true about me.

Beyond the heat, and the heat, and did I mention it was terribly hot? I'm also so very glad we went, because it was a great experience (almost) all the way around. Here's a great photo of one of the campers. Probably the best photo I've ever taken.

At least I wasn't cold, so I have no reason to complain or whine. My first job was in construction in Philadelphia. I got "put outside," kind of like the cat at night, on a high-rise project in Center City, in the middle of the winter. I stood on the frozen concrete floors, the building wide open to the wind. My job was to follow the plumber and be sure that he put insulation around the bathtub pipes. He was slippery, fast and knew how to dress for the weather. I was 23 or 24, from South Carolina, innocent and unsuspecting, and completely unable to dress for the weather. They were pouring the concrete floors above me, and they had the salamanders fired up to keep the floors warm (or at least not frozen) while the concrete set. Nothing else was warm. No, make that nothing else was thawed out. The winds and snow blew through the open building. The winds and snow seemed to aim for me.

I have never been so miserable, and that was a formative moment in my life.

Because no matter how hot and miserable I am here in S.C. or even in the Caribbean in July, I think back to sitting on the side of my bathtub in my Philadelphia apartment after a frozen, long day at work, holding my numb feet under the hot tap trying to get the feeling back. I almost cried when the alarm went off in the morning, not because of the job, but because no matter what I wore, I couldn't stay warm. I couldn't even get to be merely very cold. I was so cold I couldn't even think.

I can't stand to be cold. So that means that I will tolerate the heat though I will whine about the heat like my mother-in-law whines when we are five minutes late, yet I will remember: I would rather be hot than cold.

I wish other things were as easy to put in perspective. Or maybe I don't. That was a very painful lesson I learned and I'd rather be ignorant than suffer something like cold. Or worse things that life can throw at you.

If I could only be grateful for what I have. At least I wasn't cold. But I do believe there is a reason that hell is depicted as hot, not cold.

I didn't just say that.

Here's what I really meant to post about. If you're looking for some summer reading, here are a few books I've enjoyed over the last few months or maybe it was several years ago. Whatever. My brain doesn't work if it's too hot, either.

Right now I'm enjoying The Help. I loved The Story of Edgar Sawtelle and discovered it before Oprah. Nyah nyah nyah. And I tried my first Stephen King this past year and thought it was extraordinary -- Duma Key. That's all I can remember for now. In fact, that's more than I can remember about my own novel(s) right now, which I didn't even take with me to Pony Club camp because I knew I wouldn't be doing that kind of work -- and I was more right about that than I could ever imagine.

But at least I wasn't cold.

How I Killed the Local Bookstore

A few months ago the world's best bookstore, The Happy Bookseller, an independent bookstore, closed. It died, and I'm the one who killed it.

This local bookstore, whose founder was president at least once of the American Booksellers Association (or whatever it's called), did so very much to promote regional and local authors. They generously hosted a big bash of a booksigning for an anthology of the best stories from the S.C. Fiction Project -- and I got to be there and sign copies of the book because I had a story in it. Heaven! That was before I killed the store.

They're at least 15 miles away from me and one of the most pleasant places in the world. The people who worked there were readers. The only thing it lacked was a store cat, but I forgive them for that.

I didn't mean to kill them and I did it slowly (Saintly Brother says he helped). I started ordering my books on Amazon. Like most crimes, I started small. A few things here and there that the local bookstore didn't have. Then it got easier and easier. And soon, I wasn't going to the bookstore at all. I had (and have) become an Amazon 'ho'.

But don't worry. I'm giving back to my community's literary institutions in another way. I just got a notice that I owe the public library $144.00 in fines and the cost of overdue books. Oops! (I can assure you that the overdue books will be quickly returned.)

Do you think they'll arrest me?

Maybe buying my books on Amazon is cheaper in the long run.

Good Economic News

Yes, there is some good economic news. It barely squeaks by as good news, but I'll take whatever good news I can get. Fiction sales were up ever so slightly, with adult fiction sales up by 0.4 percent. Juvenile fiction (at my house that would be the Twilight series) had a 6.2 percent increase.

I heard at the Myrtle Beach Writer's Conference that the publishing industry slips into recession at a slower rate than other industries because people can't afford to do other things so they turn to reading.

Bad times can bring out good things. Reading, kindness to each other, simpler food, time together and prayer.

Then there's anxiety, depression, worry, foreclosures, skipped medical treatments....

Forget all that and go read a good book. It beats the news any day.

Things I Think I Remember from 2008

I had this idea that I would post a list of books, movies, good food and other good things I remember from 2008. The only problem is, here on January 1, I can't remember.

I do remember reading an article many years ago in Harper's? The Atlantic? The New Yorker? that was entitled, "Books I Think I've Read." That's me. Except I can't remember which ones they are.

I did discover something this year that greatly surprised me. I really like Stephen King! I had read his book, On Writing, and thought it was one of the best books about writing I've ever read. I keep it on my desk and recently listened to him read it on my iPod. (www.Audible.com is a great source for books you can listen to on-the-go, though my library is rapidly overtaking them in titles that are free).

I decided to try out one of his books of fiction, and listened to Duma Key. Highly recommended. Then I read where Stephen King recommended The Story of Edgar Sawtelle (this was before Oprah, etc.) and I listened to that. Absolutely fantastic.

It's Hamlet set in Minnesota with a hearing mute boy and dogs. Riveting. And here's one of the things that made me laugh the hardest this year: one of the reviewers on Amazon panned it because she didn't like the ending. It's Hamlet! You're not supposed to like the ending. But even the ending was wonderful.

I'd recommend more but I can't remember. Here's to a more memorable 2009.

Addicted to Self-improvement Books

There are so many ways I could improve myself. All I have to do is buy the right book.

Yes, yes, I know that as a Christian the only self-improvement book I need is the bible. Maybe I can pick up a self-improvement book about that. Maybe I already have. I'm not low on self-improvement books.

In the middle of the clutter I have several on getting rid of clutter. Some have even been opened, marked up, mused over, tossed back into the clutter. I have books on how to write, how to eat, how to exercise, how to make yourself happy, how to improve your love life (not the racy ones, sorry to disappoint), how to raise a daughter, how to deal with Alzheimer's, how to train a horse, how to take care of a farm, how to save enough money for retirement by not buying books....

My current self-improvement books seem a bit at odds with each other. I'm part of a bible study that's examining the other gods that we let slip into our life, the ones that turn into "putting another god before Me." I do a lesson in the morning. Sometimes the lessons mention how body image and the effort devoted to losing weight/getting fit can be a kind of interfering god that comes between you and the real God. After I've finished that lesson, I pick up the diet solution book (mentioned in previous post) and work on how I'm going to care more about myself and put my body image and health first. Well, that's not exactly what it says, but it feels like there's something in conflict with these two.

I can make a very good case for taking care of my body with diet and exercise because it is the temple of the Lord. I'd be lying about why I'm doing it, but I could make the case. The truth is, I'm doing it because I'm VAIN.

Maybe there's another self-improvement book I could use to balance out these two. Bridge the gap. Smooth over the conflicts.

A friend of mine is also addicted to self-help books. When she and her husband were getting married and were consolidating their book collections, he was amazed at all the self-help books on her shelf. He said, "If I'd known you needed this much help, I never would have married you. I hope you're all fixed now."

We're never all fixed. And that's okay, too. But what I need to do is start WRITING self-help books instead of buying them.

First I'll need a clever title. Something like: Help Yourself! Stop Buying Self-Help Books and Start Living.

How to Become a Freelance Writer

I get e-mails from people wanting to know about writing since I get paid to write. They want to be freelance writers, too. Freelance writing sounds like a dream job, and it is, as much as any job that's what you're meant to do is a dream job. Meant to be a cardiologist? That's your dream job. Meant to teach math to students who hate math? That's your dream job. Doing what you're meant to do is the place where the parts click together, where your skills and the world's needs meet.

Speaking of needs, never, ever write an ad that says, "We meet your needs." I could go on but now is not the time or place.

The dream part of freelance writing is the part where the grass looks greener on the other side of the fence. Sure, I work at home. More and more people do as technology makes it possible. There's much that's wonderful about working at home. There are also many pitfalls, from welcome distractions to never really being able to leave work because you essentially live at the office.

Then there's the bit where you get lonely, desiring to be around people you don't have to be nice to. I see clients, but I have to be nice to them. This is usually not that difficult, but it's not about being completely yourself either. I have to make an effort to see people I care about, made more challenging by the fact that I live in the country. If I go to lunch with a friend, my workday is shot unless I'm lucky, careful and plan well. I'm not naturally good at any of these. I've learned to write when and where I can.

I frequently write on my AlphaSmart in the carpool line. When I haven't fallen asleep with my mouth open just to embarrass my daughter.

Most of the time, the work is hard. Sometimes it's hard because it's just so incredibly boring. My mind doesn't want to submerge itself in home foundation repair, and I have to beat my mind to make it pay attention and work. Unlike some other jobs, writing requires that you put yourself into it. You can't write about education reform and at the same think about how you're going to faux paint a wall. If you're writing about education reform, that's got to be the thing that's sucking up your brain cells.  And suck up your brain cells it will.

Then there are the people who want to know about fiction writing. They've been told they should write a book. I wish I could help, but I'm trying to figure out how to write a book myself. I read Stephen King's On Writing book when it first came out and thought it was the best book on writing I'd ever read. I'm now listening to it (King reads it himself) and it's as good as I remembered. If you want to write fiction, that book is a good place to start your education.

How do you get to be a freelance writer? Start off by being a writer. Figure out ways to get published. Then take those published samples to people you think could use the help of a writer. It's hard to build credibility. Everyone thinks they can write, especially lawyers, who are the most difficult clients. Some writer could make a career out of re-writing everything engineers write -- all you have to do is convert their manuscripts from passive to active voice. However, they won't like it. They don't think they sound smart if it's not in passive voice. Or maybe there's some other risk.  They wear me out.

How did I get to be a freelance writer? I wrote plays on the side when I worked in the family business. When it became clear I couldn't work with Non-Saintly Brother, I needed to find another job. Because some of my plays had been performed and received publicity (mostly bad), the head of one of the state's largest ad agencies recognized my name. I approached him for advice on changing careers. Instead of giving me advice, he gave me a job: a three-month trial as a copywriter. I stayed for over nine years, then, after having Lily, it all became too hard and I quit that dream job for another one, being a freelancer. Because I have a portfolio of published, performed, recorded and approved work, I can get more work. I believe most freelance writers have worked as paid writers for an organization of some sort before they started freelancing. That doesn't mean that's the way everyone has to do it. It's just the only route I know.

I view those years at the ad agency with fondness and great appreciation. They taught me a lot. It was a fun place. For a while I defined myself by my job. I loved the insanity of the place, the high spirits of so many creative-types in one building. And every day I wrote. And wrote and wrote. I wrote whether or not I knew anything about the subject and made it sound like I did. I wrote pieces for crisis management situations where I didn't have time to even think through what I was going to say. I wrote for one client who was so stupid that they had voted that their organization, which used the word "centers" in its name, was really only one entity so that "centers" should be treated as a singular noun. In other words, they would correct my copy so that it read, "Our Centers is." At last, I was grateful for passive voice, which allowed me to keep them from looking like they were completely stupid.

I wrote like a sweat-shop seamstress sews, churning out prose that I won't call seamless but there was certainly a lot of it. And I learned to control the language. That was my apprenticeship.

Though I freelance now and am grateful for my clients and the checks that trickle in, I feel my work is my fiction, which is so very hard that I must be doing it wrong. But I'm back at it. And I'm following Stephen King's advice: no matter what, tell the truth.

Terry Pratchett Diagnosed with Alzheimer's

Terry Pratchett, one of Lily's and my favorite authors, has been diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer's. I'm so sad. You can read the BBC story here. By the way, he's donated $1 million for Alzheimer's research. He's still writing but has quit driving. He said, "Personally, I'd eat the arse out of a dead mole if it offered a fighting chance.

"I am, along with many others, scrabbling to stay ahead long enough to be there when the cure comes along.

"Say it will be soon - there's nearly as many of us as there are cancer sufferers, and it looks as if the number of people with dementia will double within a generation."

In a separate, older story, I loved his response to J. K. Rowling's statement that she didn't know Harry Potter was a fantasy while she was writing it. Pratchett said:

"I would have thought that the wizards, witches, trolls, unicorns, hidden worlds, jumping chocolate frogs, owl mail, magic food, ghosts, broomsticks and spells would have given her a clue?"

I don't know whether people will be reading his work in 100 years, but he's certainly given a lot of pleasure and laughter to people during his lifetime. We loved the books about the young witch Tiffany Aching, and the other witches, too. We just finished Maskerade and are now listening to Wyrd Sisters.

I hope they find a cure for Alzheimer's. It's too late for my mother. I'm so sorry to hear about Pratchett. What a fine and wonderful mind.

Ko Jones

Lily and I are listening to Terry Pratchett's Witches Abroad from Audible. It's hysterical -- three witches, inspired by Shakespeare's three witches -- go on an odyssey to foreign lands (which resemble France, Italy, Spain and Louisiana) to stop Emberella from marrying the prince. They're the anti-fairy godmother -- and they're the good guys. Really.

They end up in a streetside cafe during the running of the bulls, and they won't move because they think the locals are poking fun at them. Somewhere in this hilarious episode somebody uses the word "ko jones," an obvious mispronunciation of cojones. But not obvious to Lily.

"Mom, what are ko jones?"

I ponder this a minute. "I think they meant to say cojones."

"And that's what?"

"Um, testicles." We sit in silence. Then I add, "It's not a nice word. You shouldn't use it."

"MOM! Well, DUH!"

Just doing my job, one embarrassment at a time.

Amazon Sent Me a Christmas Present

You know you have a problem with books when Amazon sends you a Christmas present for "being one of their best customers."

This was in 1997 or so. I got a box from Amazon and was puzzled. I opened it up and there was the thank you card and a gift -- the gift was an inexpensive plastic Amazon coffee travel mug that I still use, though it has to be hand-washed.

I was dumbstruck.

I must be buying too many books.

Sure enough, I had no shelf space. No money. Amazon bookmarks everywhere. A bazillion Amazon refrigerator magnets. Things stored in Amazon boxes. Oh noes!

I know they sent me a gift to thank me, but I should have really thanked them. Until that point, I didn't know I had a problem.

Terry Pratchett, Worth a Listen or Read

I'm probably the last person to have discovered the author Terry Pratchett, but in case you haven't, you've missed out. This is not an ad because I'm too lazy to put in the code, though I am trying a new widgety thing but it helps the author, not me. I had to zoom turn off my pop-up blocker and zoom-in to see the pages in the book. I hope it's helpful and doesn't just clutter up my blog.

Lily and I listen to his books on my iPod. I get them through Audible.com, which is a subscription service.

I bought my iPod in order to listen to books through NetLibrary. A friend who is on our library's board told me about how all I had to do was use the library website and I could download books for free to my iPod. So, since Lily and I love to listen to books while we commute to school, etc., I thought this was great. I went out and bought an iPod over a year ago.

Guess what. NetLibrary is partially funded by the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation and the books on NetLibrary can't be loaded onto an iPod (the most widely used audio format device, though I'm sure that's now how a proper geek would say it; how much sense does that make?). You have to use some kind of Microsoft product, not that I'm paranoid or anything about Bill Gates taking over the world.

So, I bought some kind of $20 U.K. software online that will download the NetLibrary books and then record them on your iPod. It takes about half the time it would take to listen to the whole book and it sounds like you have mice, so I would set it up to convert the books at night. It said it was legal but it sounds marginal to me.

Is a monopoly legal? Market manipulations? But I digress. This was supposed to be about Terry Pratchett.

Anyway, that was not a clean solution (no chapter marks so it was hard to navigate the book), plus all that downloading and transposing was awkward and time consuming and squeaky so I was looking for something that would work with my iPod. The books on iTunes are too expensive. That's when I tried Audible. I get two books a month and it couldn't be easier.

And that's when I discovered the author Terry Pratchett. I'm not sure I understand his Discworld series, but his series about the teenage witch, Tiffany Aching, is sort of like Harry Potter but much, much funnier.

Brendan Wignall, Oxford Times
  "Terry Pratchett is simply the best humorous writer of the 20th century."  

I'm too tired to write a review so I'll just point you in the right direction. You can read all the reviews on Amazon or Audible. Though they are kid's books, I enjoyed them as much if not more than Lily.

We started with -- and I recommend you start with -- Wee Free Men. The guy who reads on Audible is great. I'd put in the Audible link but I'd have to sign out on Audible and I don't remember my password. Here's the Amazon link.

Next in the series is Hat Full of Sky. Amazon link.

Then The Wintersmith. Amazon link.

Unfortunately, that's the end of the Tiffany stories (so far). So we branched out and are listening to Witches Abroad. I am laughing out loud. So funny and so clever.

Like many children, Lily reads the same books over and over again. She likes to listen to the same books over and over again, too. I've listened to these along with her -- and they get funnier and funnier. Perhaps Terry Pratchett is an acquired taste. If so, I've acquired it.