Distractions of Life

Gypsy Rose in my last home - in the 1742 dining roomOne of the most frustrating things about returning from a writing conference is that it doesn’t seem to take long before the life we knew before we left seeps – or charges – back in. Two days at the Annual NJ SCBWI Conference were exciting, absorbing and brimming with promise for my future as a writer and illustrator. This had been preceded by hours and days of prep – creating a new illustration for my submitted MS, tighter editing, printing out first pages, readying a speed pitch and so on.

I came home exhausted but totally psyched. Unfortunately I was also hit the next day with a blistering sinus/migraine, but still I forged on and edited that story in the evening, cutting out another 90 words. The next day I wrote thank you’ s to the wonderful agent and editors who had critiqued my work and I began sketching for my dummy.  The following day, still in a heat wave of nearly 100 degrees and shifting barometric pressure, I got hit by another crippling sinus/migraine headache. And of course, on Monday, I’d had the usual demanding pile of work, which pays my bills, on my desk to tackle.

Point is, even for a two day conference, the afterglow doesn’t last long before the distractions of life force their way back onto our laps demanding to be fed. How not to lose that momentum? I made a new commitment. I already journal every day and miss with rare exception. However, my new commitment to my future as a children’s book writer and illustrator is to spend a minimum of 10 minutes a day doing something to further my children’s book career.

On weekends, I may spend hours working on a manuscript or sketches, and sometimes in the evening as well when I’m able. However, even on those days when I have almost no energy left, I will do something, even if only for 10 minutes. I don’t want the insights and recommendations of the agent I met and the editors I sat with to fall through the cracks. To keep them alive, I need to touch their encouragement every day, even if only briefly, until I make the next block of time. A few sketches, jotting down ideas, a bit more editing of a manuscript … whatever.

The distractions of life are never going away – that IS life. But only we, as writers and illustrators, can put them off our laps and tell them to amuse themselves for a little while – we have something very important to tend to – our futures.

Hopes and Dreams

Hopes and dreams in the SkyStargazing has become common of late. If not a longing look to the moonless sky, then a reflective gazing within. This weekend marks the convergence of aspiring authors and illustrators, publishing’s best editors and agents, plus established authors and illustrators in children’s books at the June NJ SCBWI Conference.

Each aspirant has carefully packed up his or her hopes and dreams in the form of manuscripts and portfolios, and brings them, whether boldly or tentatively, to lay at the feet of the people we hope will cherish them as we do. A fragile thing, this creativity. Like children who hope our latest scrawl is good enough to merit an honored spot on the fridge, we will search the eyes of our mentors, hoping we did good, too.

Dare we hope? A contract, another look-see, a request for a revision … some nod of approval for all it has taken to bring this seedling of an idea to its present state. Humbly, hopefully, we toss our shimmering hopes and dreams skyward.

I believe there’ll be quite the reason to stargaze over Princeton this weekend.

Best of luck, everyone!

What the WGA Strike Did For Me

In 6 words? It gave me my evenings back!

WGA strikeI don’t suppose I’m terribly different from anyone else when I say after working an average 10+ hour day, having something to eat and feeding the small fry, all I really want to do is relax for a little while. It’s not unusual for me to catch a couple hours TV before hitting the sack if I’m not elsewhere for the evening. I’m not a TV addict at all, but I do enjoy some well done shows a few nights a week. Not too much to ask, right?

And then came the writers’ strike. OK, for awhile some of the shows still had some episodes in the can to play out, and then it just flat out came to Repeats. I’d check online to see if anything good might be on on a given night … more Repeats. Hey, this was getting boring.

Next thing I know, I was picking up that novel I was usually reading at 10:30 or 11 pm at 8 pm. I was doing the artwork I thought I was too tired to do curled up on the couch away from my work desk. I threw in some laundry; cooked something a little more involved. Hey! I remember this! It used to be my life! What’s most amazing is that I really didn’t think I had this energy in the evening until someone took away my quiet, drool time in front of the TV.

I hear that the strike is in the process of being resolved. Figures. Just when I was starting to enjoy it.

Requiem for A Featherweight

StripesShe was a tiny little thing, and I’d really grown so very fond of her. Sadly, Stripes is no more and I sure do miss her.

People always find me when they have a problem with an animal, and so it was a few nights ago that my neighbor across the street had knocked on my door. She said she’d just come home and saw a cat in the road hit by a car … it looked like my next door neighbor’s. I grabbed my coat and ran out to find Stripes lying there, bleeding, still warm, the life knocked out of her limp body.

Stripes did indeed belong to the folks next door, and had two young girls that loved her.  Stripes and Pumpkin, half siblings, are/were primarily outdoor cats with shelter in their garage at night, all up to date with shots, neutered, etc. Her life with me was somewhat tangential, I guess you could say, but I loved her nonetheless. I saw her daily, fed her a “snack/meal” almost every day, and sat outside with her whenever I could.

With big green eyes and so very sweet and affectionate, Stripes was a little heartbreaker, and I say little – she couldn’t have been more than 5 pounds. I’d sit out on my porch to journal with my feet up on another chair so she could fall asleep on my legs. After eating, Pumpkin was off to whatever he had next on his schedule, but Stripes would have cuddled as long as the cuddles were coming. She patiently allowed me to remove the burrs from her fur acquired from her gallivanting all over the neighborhood, where she was a disturbingly good huntress. It’s no coincidence, I think, that there was a dead mouse about 2 feet from where her body lay in the road.

I miss those hopeful green eyes looking up at me through my back door screen … for a bite to eat or perhaps some snuggling … she loved any and all attention. Mine are my indoor cats; Stripes and Pumpkin had become my part-time, outdoor cats. It doesn’t matter that she wasn’t “mine.” She found a comfortable spot in my heart, and that’s where Stripes sleeps tonight.

Sweet dreams, little one.

CRASH!

That’s not the beginning of a children’s book – it was the final sound of my G4 giving up the ghost. I work on a Mac – the G4 was a beautiful, silvery machine with a mirrored CD drawer. The artist in me loved just the look; the professional artist in me loves the whole way a Macintosh works and all the ways it makes my work possible.

It had been locking up way too much; freezing while I jumped between programs … I should have called my Mac guy earlier, but it may have been too late, anyway. I’m told this version of the Mac tended to run hot, and I, for most of its life, had no A/C. Sadly, I may have inadvertently brought about it’s demise.

The new iMac

Now that a phenomenally stressful week sans-Mac of my life has passed, and I’m almost caught up with all I couldn’t do without it, I sit in front of a yet more beautiful machine – an iMac.

With great speed, an OS so quiet I can’t even hear it and a big, black glass monitor which shows me perfect detail, my heart is beginning to rest. I’ll somehow manage the unexpected expense, and am happily exploring what this new version brings me. Is it sick to love your computer? Or is it about the life it makes possible for me … it probably doesn’t matter. I’m writing again, scanning, designing and creating … with a big freakin’ smile on my face. And THAT’s what matters.

Want to see what I do with my Mac? Check out the Creative Services I offer on my web site.