Pennwriters Conference Top Ten

(in no particular order)

Top Five Events:

1. Donald Maass dinner keynote

2. Chuck Sambuchino workshops

3. Chuck Sambuchino's luncheon keynote

4. Deb Riley-Magnus's Cross-Marketing workshops

5. Ramona DeFelice-Long's Short Story workshop

Top Five Takeaways (simple, yet profound):

1. "What will you write for my son to read?" (Donald Maass)

2. "Storytelling is a hypothesis." (Mark Tavani)

3."Don't believe everything you hear." (Chuck Sambuchino)

4. "Write a story people want to re-tell." (Hana Haatainen Caye)

5. "Relax." (Jon Sprunk)

Okay conferees - who/what did I miss?

And, if you weren't at the conference this time, comment to ask me more about Pennwriters! Next year's conference is at the Eden Resort Inn in Lancaster, PA - worth the trip!

Saturday Special: Pennwriters Conference

On Friday, I took the train from Harrisburg to Pittsburgh. I've never been to Pittsburgh before, but a Pennwriters Conference with speakers including literary agent Donald Maass and author/editor Chuck Sambuchino from Writer's Digest was a pretty big draw.

And I haven't been disappointed. Typically, I find at least one workshop slot where I can shop in the bookstore or take a nap...but not yesterday. I heard about pitches, revisions, and promotions. Chuck spoke at lunch and Donald spoke at dinner....and then hung out in the lobby and talked to writers afterward. So far today, I've gotten lessons in freelancing from Chuck (who autographed my copy of his book on platform) and later on today, I will collect my free book from author Bobbi Carducci.

I know I've said this before, but it bears repeating. Writers are a generous bunch, and the professionals who attend these conferences are no exception. Our keynote speakers make themselves available outside their presentations, graciously sign books and invite us to contact them after the conference is over. Those of us who write for publication would do well to emulate them and share what we know with the same grace and generosity.

I still have lots to look forward to today, and I'm excited to sharing more of the lessons and high points here and in the classes I teach.

I Can Stop Any Time I Want To...Really!

My Starbucks habit has become a running joke among my friends. Little do they know it's more than a habit; it's therapy. As beverages go, it's kind of pricey, but as therapy goes, it's pretty cheap.

Starbucks is the carrot I dangle when I have something on my desk that must get done. If it's a project that requires less than half a day, I promise myself a trip there when the project is done. If it's a longer project, or one where progress is simply eluding me, I pack it up and take it with me. Starbucks then becomes my satellite office - the place where I can't use laundry or dishes or stripping the bed as an excuse to escape a blank screen, a blank page or an uncooperative project.

Starbucks is my social hub. I meet my former colleagues there each week, maintaining the connections I've cultivated over the past two decades and taking joy in finding that our connections have transcended my retirement. It's where I run into people - often former students and their families - those whom I might otherwise see only on Facebook or not at all. It's where I meet friends to catch up and plan and simply chat, where my sister and I meet to share our writing.

The Starbucks near my home is my personal "Cheers." The baristas know my name and my drink. I wrote most of my last novel, several online articles and more blogs than I can count at Starbucks, tucked away at a table, nursing one drink for my entire visit, but getting no complaints.

Tomorrow I head to Pittsburgh for the Pennwriters Conference. I'm excited, but a little wary. Sure, a hotel room works as a satellite office...but will I have to be Starbucks-free for three days? I know there are Starbucks in Pittsburgh (I used my app to see where they were), but I won't have a car, so those carrots will be dangling beyond my reach. I'm sure the workshops, social time and writing I'll squeeze into the crevices between sessions will keep me busy, but all of that is bound to make me thirsty, too.

They say a writer has to suffer for her craft, so I'll persevere, empty-handed. But there'd better be a venti iced chai with my name on it when I get back.

Fearless Tuesday

On Sunday, I took the day off. It was Mother's Day, after all, and a day of rest, so I felt justified. I read, played games, chatted with my family as we watched Harry Potter movies and cleaned off my desk - a project I'd been wanting to do but had been having trouble finding enough time to do well.

Yesterday, I was on a roll. I jumped into the day with uncharacteristic not-a-morning-person energy, patting myself on the back for that day of rest that had left me energized and ready to hit the ground running.

Then we had email issues, but I managed to get a blog written and posted. I was on my way to the post for this site when the phone rang. My daughter had a fever. Could I pick her up?

Of course I could.

My first clue that she wasn't terribly ill came when she texted to see what was taking me so long. And when I picked her up, she told me that she actually felt better than she had the day before, but school policy dictated that if she had a fever, she needed to be sent home. And, if she was going to be home sick, I felt as though I should cancel my discretionary activities and hang out with her.

Unfortunately, work somehow ended up getting swept away with the discretionary activities. I watched the video of a webinar I'd signed up for last week, but a combination of tech issues, difficulty putting words on the page and - ahem - motivational issues - meant that I spent more time on Pinterest and Facebook than on that second blog. I wrote the song that had been floating around in my head since I'd started the laundry at 8 AM, but not much else.

Such is the beauty of working from home.

And so today, you'd think I'd be raring and ready to go the moment my feet hit the floor. Not so. I blame the cold weather for the lazy start that got me to the keyboard at 9 AM instead of 8 AM because after all, if I didn't blame the cold weather, I'd have to take responsibility for my inaction.

The thing is, these "late" starts aren't all that uncommon. I am not a morning person, and while some days are like yesterday - energy-pumped fresh starts - most days, I ease into the day, a luxury I didn't have when I was working outside the home.

But if I'm honest, I have to admit that when I was working in schools, the days ebbed and flowed much as they do now. Some days, I was on fire, burning through my to-do list with amazing alacrity. Other days, it was one step forward, two steps back. I don't know why I expect that it should be any different now that I am working at home.

I guess expect isn't the right word. The verb I am looking for is "fear."

What if I spent the entire day on the sofa with a book? What if I napped and snacked and went out for Starbucks and got absolutely nothing done? What if day after day I got to the end of the day and had nothing to show for it?

Those who know me are shaking their heads, knowing that in the absence of extenuating circumstances, this would not - could not - happen. I simply wouldn't allow it, if for no other reason than the fact that I'd be so bored by all of the inactivity that the monotony alone would spur me into action. My body may be perfectly content to nap on the sofa, but my brain runs circles around it, coaxing - then prodding - me into action.

So why am I so afraid of a day - or, God forbid, two! - spent leisurely?

My fingers, flying over the keyboard for much of this post, stopped at the end of that question, holding tightly to the answer, which is complex. Early retirement, never intended to be the end of my work life. So many ideas, so many things I want to do that wasted time seems inexcusable. Fear of laziness, monotony, wasted potential.

Fortunately, the solution is much simpler. Keep moving forward. Stop occasionally to take stock of where you are and where you're going. Don't waste time beating yourself up over what you haven't accomplished. Instead, decide where you are going from here.

It all sounds so logical, one thing flowing right into the next. Fear is counterproductive - it hinders the flow and limits the possibilities - and so I need to determine if it is reasonable, and brush it aside when it is not.

And so, fearlessly, I'm going forth into Tuesday.

Enough is Enough

Memorial Day weekend will mark my seventh anniversary as a blogger. In May 2006, I sat on my brother-in-law's porch swing and scribbled down my very first blog. My daughter, who is now finishing her freshman year of high school, was still in elementary school and had not yet grown to the point of towering over me, and a blog was this new thing I'd just heard about at a writing conference.

I've written many blogs on a variety of sites since then, and in honor of my blogging anniversary, I'll be sprinkling some of my favorites posts among my new posts throughout the month - blogs that still ring true for me now, reminding me that some things remain consistent, even as life changes and children grow taller.

The post below is from August 2008, back before my daughter was too cool for theme days, and back before I actually got to be a stay-at-home mom during the school year. And you know what? My daughter is still good company, and this stay-at-home thing is all I thought it would be.

I have always been a stay-at-home mom wannabe. It caught me by surprise - I expected to want to to back to work after my daughter was born, but as it turned out, that wasn't what I wanted at all. I thought that three months of maternity leave would be enough, but at the end of those three months, I still wanted to stay at home and change the diapers of the child who napped much less often than she was supposed to and stole my heart more completely than I'd expected her to.

My daughter is ten now, and though I like my go-to-work job, those yearnings to be a mom who doesn't work outside of the home haven't gone away. I still want to be the mom who volunteers at the school library, who is available to attend all of the school functions that are scheduled in the middle of the day and who can stay home with my child when she is sick without feeling as though I'm abdicating my work responsibilities.

I'm fortunate to have a hob which gives me summers off, though, so during the summer, I play at being a stay-at-home mom. The truth is, like most stay-at-home moms, I don't stay at home all that much. I run Leah from camp to camp and to the library and to doctor's appointments. I try to find activities that will make the TV less of a magnetic attraction. My daughter is good company, and I find myself wishing this lifestyle lasted more than three months.

Today, Leah's camp had Wacky Wednesday, and as I watched my daughter head into camp in her mildly wacky attire, surrounded by other girls in varying degrees of wackiness, I wondered if just being at home is enough. We'd given consideration to her outfit, but we hadn't turned it into the epitome of wackiness that some kids (and their moms, it appeared) had. I'd had an appointment last night - two, actually - so although we'd discussed the day and laid out some clothes, I hadn't been at home to help her pick out fuzzy hats, furry boas and style her hair in a gravity-defying 'do. Had I done enough? Had I fully dedicated myself to her wackiness?

And should I have? She's at an age where I expect her to take a certain amount of responsibility for herself. After all, it was her Wacky Wednesday and I was merely a consultant. But had I fulfilled that role to the best of my ability?

And in the midst of this wacky introspection, as I was beating myself up for not taking wackiness seriously enough, it came to me. It's not about going to work or staying at home or showing up at PTA meetings or taking our kids to work on the designated day in April. It's about being enough for them. It's about being home with the baby even though she doesn't nap, hanging out with the pre-teen even though she doesn't want to talk, expecting our kids to take responsibility for themselves, but still worrying that we haven't provided enough of a cushion for them when they fall. It's about loving them when we don't much like them, making them do homework even we think is ridiculous and taking them to the library instead of the video arcade. And sometimes, taking them to the video arcade, too, because after all, they're kids.

It's a pretty tricky job description, and one that doesn't travel alone. Being enough for our kids is complicated by other realities of life, such as being enough for ourselves, our spouses, our homes, our families, our employers, our communities...Whether we work inside the home, out of it or both, we're fragmented into so many pieces that it's tough sometimes to remember that the pieces aren't neat bits of mosaic, but instead, overlapping pieces of a collage. Taking care of our homes impacts our families, taking care of our marriages impacts our kids and taking care of ourselves impacts all the rest of it. And so the collage moves and bends, its component parts blending together to create an ever-changing picture.

So when are we enough? According to our kids, probably never, so "enough," like so many other things in parenting has to come when we say so. "Enough" depends on the moment, and varies with our energy levels, our life circumstances, our willingness to let one piece of the collage overtake another. "Enough" is mercurial, elusive, undefined. "Enough" comes for us only when we are satisfied, which means that some days, it may not show up at all.

So was my daughter wacky enough today? Probably. If not, there's always tomorrow. That's the nice thing about enough. What's not enough for this moment may be more than sufficient for the next, and keeping this in mind can make those moments of dissatisfaction easier to bear. 

Eating the Elephant

I have a terrible habit of focusing on what I haven't done instead of acknowledging what I have done, failing to see progress until it is monstrous in size. But my recent attack on my office counter, combined with preparation for the courses I've been teaching and a little divine intervention at church last weekend reminded me that there are simple strategies I can use to attack big tasks so that I can see the progress I make, even when the going is slow.

If you're struggling to complete a monumental task, try one of these strategies:

Turn a big task into a small one. Remember all those family sitcoms where siblings who had to share a room staked their claim by drawing some sort of line down the middle? Try the same thing with a big task. Depending on what it is, you may not be able to use tape or string to make your mark, but mentally set aside one part of the task to tackle first, then stop when you are finished. Visible progress is hugely satisfying.

Chunk it then check it. Or, go one step further. Break the whole project down into its component parts and list each task. Then attack the project bit by bit, checking off each task as you go. If one chunk is too big, break it down further, but be sure to check off each step as you accomplish it. Large tasks can be daunting, and progress can be difficult to see, but checking a task off the list acknowledges the progress you've made.

Assign it a time. Organizing guru Julie Morgenstern advises that you need to schedule things if you want to them to get done. Once you've decided on your starting point, write it in your calendar as you would a medical appointment or lunch with a friend.

Make it routine. Do you already have some things you do at the same time every day, or even every week? Extend this concept and make the big job a standing appointment until it is finished.

Play Beat the Clock. Maybe it's the educator in me, but I'm a big fan of setting a timer and working till it dings (or plays a jazz riff, in the case of my iPhone timer). Sometimes I stop when the timer goes off, but sometimes I keep going. For me, getting started is the hardest part, so once I get rolling, I sometimes ignore the timer.

Seize the moment. In the mood to tackle a task that wasn't on the list? Go for it! As long as the task you initially planned to do isn't time sensitive, it pays to put that motivation to work, particularly if the project you're tackling instead is one you weren't looking forward to.

Mix and match. Pair two tasks, one desirable and one undesirable. Do the one you don't want to do first, then reward yourself by doing the one you enjoy.

Do it as you go. This is my favorite clutter-busting trick. When I have an area in my house that has accumulated clutter, I play a little game with myself. Each time I go by, I have to pick up one thing and put it away. I can pick up more than one thing if I want to, but everything I pick up, I must put away - where it belongs - not in another temporary holding zone.

Give credit where credit is due. At the end of each day, take a few moments to acknowledge what you've accomplished. If you have trouble replaying your day, make it a point to jot down a couple of words about what you're doing as you do it, then review the list at the end of the day.

It's sometimes hard to see the baby steps we've taken on the road to success, particularly if the road is long, but success breeds success, and the only way to reach the destination is to figure out how to take it step by step....and maybe stop for a Starbucks along the way.

Don't You Know that I Love My Music

As I sit here typing the blog I was supposed to post this morning (it's been that kind of a week), I can hear my daughter up in her room practicing her history project. Snippets of a presentation that includes Queen, David Bowie/Ziggy Stardust and Aerosmith filter down from her room into the living room, and I must admit that I'll be a little bit sad to see the research portion of this project end.

Tomorrow, my daughter and her friends will give the last of three presentations on music in the second half of the twentieth century. This "Decades Project" required the kids to research one aspect of history, reporting on trends and changes (among other things) from the 1950s through the 1990s. My daughter was thrilled to get music as her topic, and it has been such fun watching her immerse herself in the music that was part of my history. For once, I didn't feel the need to groan (inwardly, of course - I wouldn't want to be a bad role model) when I heard the word "presentation" or its cousin, "project." We were all over this one.

So much so that a conversation over dinner about one of the decades resulted in my husband hauling a milk crate full of albums out of the basement, which led to an excursion to Target to find something to play them on. For the duration of this project, the ratio of retro music to current music has been about 50:50, and not just because of the research. While some of the "classics" have inspired mocking and raucous laughter (rightfully so, in some cases), other songs have made it onto my daughter's playlist alongside current favorites that her children may be researching (or mocking) some day.

I know that teachers try to make projects relevant and meaningful. Still, the facts and details of many well-researched presentations dissipate moments after the last word is uttered. But this project, a blend of two things that really are relevant and meaningful to my daughter - music and history - is likely to echo beyond the sighs of relief that conclude her final presentation tomorrow morning. These songs and their influence on the music she listens to have found a place of honor not only on her iPod, but inside her as well, and I'm grateful that she was given an assignment that will have such a lasting influence.

Even if it means she'll beat me in my own categories on Song Pop.