Monday, November 14, 2011
Thursday, November 10, 2011
I. Was. Wrong.
Not only have I not suddenly become cool, it seems I've drifted even further down the geek scale. This week, two things made me realize my quest for coolness will forever elude me.
First. On Monday I took the kids to Best Buy so they could give me ideas for Christmas presents for them. Something shiny caught my attention. An iPad 2. It was loverly. I wanted to rip it from its display, clutch it to my chest, and run out of the store hissing, "My precious. It is my precious!"
Thankfully, I was able to control myself. It might surprise you to learn that this was not the moment that made me even less cool. No. That moment occurred when I got confused by all the apps and my 8-year-old and my 15-year-old had to show me how to use it. I don't know how this happened. I used to be the kid showing her mom how to use things. Now I'm the Mom. What's next? Rocking on the porch saying, "Back in my day I walked to school. In the snow." Oh. Wait. I have said that.
The second thing is even worse. I was going through my closet, looking for clothes to donate to the Vietnam Vets, when I pulled out an old pair of jeans. Dear Reader, they were acid washed. They were high waisted. They were Mom Jeans.
Thankfully, I have not worn them in a long time. But not from any fashion sense on my part. It's because I've found something even better than Mom Jeans. Yoga Pants. I wear them every day. Yes, Dear Reader, every day. I don't even do yoga. At least not any more. I went through a phase when I thought I'd get in shape. I faithfully practiced yoga several times a week. Then I discovered I that wearing the pants while eating Hershey's dark chocolate was much more fun than contorting myself into Downward Facing Dog.
Dear Reader, I must stop this downward spiral. I am one step away from embroidered Christmas sweaters. Today I am giving away the Mom Jeans. I am changing out of the yoga pants and putting on Old Navy jeans. (Not high fashion, but at least not high waisted.) And I am going shopping. Right after I finish watching a rerun of The Sarah Connor Chronicles on Syfy.
Friday, November 4, 2011
I came away from the class inspired. Here was a room full of students who were passionate about writing. Some were English majors. Others were not, but they all had one thing in common--they wanted to write. So they did. They knew how difficult it is to make it as a writer, but they wrote anyway.
Writing is Hard Work. You don't just sit down and doodle out a story in 15 minutes then sell it for millions of dollars and become the next J.K. Rowling. No. Not even close. Not even a little bit true. Let me say it again. Writing is Hard Work and there's no guarantee of a pay off (I mean a monetary pay off).
So why do it? Why are these kids sitting in a creative writing classroom when they probably realize they'd have a better shot at finding a good job if they were sitting in a computer programming class? Because writing is important.
I don't think writers hear this enough. We know that doctors and teachers and engineers are important, but we don't say that writers are important.
Yet words have the power to change things. What do dictators do when they come to power? They burn books. Even fiction (maybe especially fiction). Why? Because stories transform the way we see the world. They open our minds to new possibilities and new ways of thinking. That's monumental, world changing stuff.
Now, not every book is going to impact the entire world, but think back to when you were a child. What books shaped your world view? I'll bet you can name several that you still cherish all these years later. We knew parents and teachers had the ability to mold a child's life, but writers? How often do we think about writers having that kind of power?
Not often enough. In fact, sometimes it seems the only people who realize the power that books have are people who want to ban books. I think it's about time the rest of us stand up and say, (to ourselves and those writers around us) Writing is important. Keep going even when you want to stop. Even when it's hard. Even when you think no one cares.
Because the truth is, someone does care that you're out there, working as hard as you can on your manuscript. I care. And so do a lot of other people. Because what you're doing matters. What you're doing is important. It matters.