Finish with an A...

I Love Rock n Roll (and other stuff too)

2011-02-12T18:33:00.000-06:00

I love live music. It almost doesn't matter what kind it is. I get carried away with the sounds of a chamber orchestra, by heart beats with the bass of a hard rock show. I love wandering around the French Quarter in New Orleans, turning a corner and a street musician is playing his heart out to everyone passing by.

I've tried to be "musical" at different times in my life, because I love it so much. I think in 4th or 5th grade I sang in the school chorus, and had one verse of Puff the Magic Dragon as my first solo performance. We went around to some local schools to perform, and I almost died when I realized I wouldn't have a microphone at one of the schools. I'm pretty sure nobody heard me. I had practiced "singing well", not singing loud.

In middle school, I went to my first rock concert: Ratt and Poison (yes, with Brett Michaels before his bandana implant). Most of my singing around that time was to the MTV video countdown after school, where the hair bands ruled; and my performance was limited to The Cruettes, a few of us girls blasting Bon Jovi and the like and air-jamming like crazy!

There was an open spot in my schedule my junior or senior year. I joined the guitar class, sure that my dad's and mom's strumming talents were passed on to me. I showed up for 3 classes. I'm pretty sure my fingers just don't go that way. And my hands are tiny. Ask anybody. (I opted to take a speech class instead.)

The Guitar that Started it All

The guitar gods still had plans for me, however. I dropped my name into a drawing to win an autographed Fender Stratocaster at the Tempe Music Festival and I won! I think that was in 2004. Maybe now I was ready to learn!

So... a few years later, the lonely Strat sat in its case in the closet of my new home here in Wichita Falls. My sweetheart had told me all about the band he was in 20 years ago. He showed the the video tape. The band called themselves Coitus (yes, I know) and covered such bands as Metallica and Judas Priest. Gellert (my now husband) even had hair back then (as cute as the mullet was, I really prefer the bald look. He's been warned not to grow any hair back, as I will shave his head in his sleep and that's kind of dangerous.) He really enjoyed playing back then, he said. But it had been a very long time, and he had to get rid of all his equipment years ago anyway.

So then I said, "Hey, I have a guitar in my closet just sitting there. You can play on that if you want."

Well. That's why I'm sitting here, early on a Saturday night, wondering what I should wear to the Iron Horse Pub. Since Gellert started practicing on that Fender, he's bought himself a guitar for every finger (it seems); our living room was a jam room for the first part of 2009, including a full drum set; and he's been in two bands (currently in Jac Damsel). I missed his first performance with Jac Damsel because I was at a writing conference, but unless the gig has been out of town, at the Airforce base, or I've been under the weather, I've been right there, watching my sweetie play!

We've talked a bit about dragging out my barely-Karaoke approved singing voice and doing a husband and wife set at a local open mike, but I haven't quite made it there. We'll see. For now, I'll just get to live a little bit of an old teenage dream when I can say, "Oh, I'm with the band."

Gellert and I after our performances--he was playing guitar, I was belly dancing. Not at the same time, though.

Combining Passions

2010-06-08T23:25:00.000-05:00

Today is Day One of the 21 5 800 challenge. Since I don't speak "twitter" (even though I have one) I wasn't really sure what it was all about until a few minutes ago. The idea is, for 21 days, participants practice yoga 5 times a week and write 800 words a day.

This is chocolate and peanut butter to me, a sweet combination.

I often allow myself to get distracted when I have a few writing projects going at the same time. I open one file, only to think of something that might be perfect for another one, but hey, I REALLY should get this one done, as soon as I do a little research, and oh--what is that, how interesting...

Of course, time gets sucked into this multi-tasking nothingness with little but misplaced enthusiasm to show for it.

Yoga reminds me of the importance of staying present and focusing on the moment. If I am concentrating on grounding myself in tree, I can't concern myself with how I'm ever going to get into crane pose. In my writing, I need to remember to do the best I can with the more familiar work (short essays, blogs) in order for the words to flow easily. If I start to think about the difficulty with the more advanced project (novel), I am making myself struggle unnecessarily. Just as I may fall out of my tree, I may block my own writing with worries about something that isn't even happening yet.

So, for day 1:

Yoga: Gentle Yoga with Julie. Just the right amount of twists and inversions that I needed today-- very cleansing.

Writing: Some editing, but could have done better. Didn't meet the 800 mark (but, I didn't count, either). I'm giving myself a little lovingkindness in that respect--but tomorrow, back to work! I had a long overdue call from my sister, so my priorities shifted. I will at least have an Excuse Editor blog post done by tomorrow night.

Thanks for the idea, Bindu Wiles:)

Too Much Time on My Hands

2010-05-15T19:11:00.000-05:00

If you are "old" like me, you now have a Styx tune running through your head.

Enjoy.

In the meantime, I thought I would check in on my lonely little blog. I haven't received the official paperwork, but it seems as if my time with the 2010 Census has come to a close. So now I'm down to the one job--the one that was to take the place of the various, random, part-time temp jobs I was taking. Now I can be various, random, and part-time-ish in one place.

So, technically, I have OODLES (I'm sure oodles is technical) more time for my writing, right? No more having to sneak the writing in by scribbling into notebooks while eating lunch at the same time, no more trying to blog from my phone, no more 4.5 hours of sleep because a new idea showed up after I worked until 10 at the office (and no more needing to go to the office in the evenings just because Gellert's band is practicing in the living room, they've found a new jam pad)-- Nope, some people are that limited but ME-- now I have great big empty slots of time in which to write.

Hmmm, then why do I have great big empty pages staring back at me?

Well, looking back at the past few months, especially the last few weeks, I think it is safe to say my schedule was jam packed. So, I took some of my own advice, and scheduled in my next full writing day.

Word Count: 0*

I let myself be distracted by so many things. I may have just been plain exhausted. Maybe I just needed a Transition Day.

But I have to be careful. Even if I have scheduled my time myself, I still fall into the Procrastination Trap (I can work on that later, I have plenty of time left today). At least when I was working 60-70 hour weeks (seriously?! was I nuts?!) I KNEW that if anything was going to get done, it had to get done NOW-- in this one hour or this half hour, in the 15 minutes before and 10 after something else, whatever. Now, just like a diet plan I heard of recently that consists of eating only 800 calories a day cannot be sustained (seriously?! Are you nuts?! For most, it is not healthy), the quick sprints of writing started to wear me out. I started losing momentum, looking forward to the time I would have more time to put into it. Well, that time is now, and the "extra" time I have has made writing RIGHT NOW less crucial.

But, the first step is admitting it. Now I can post this as yet another reminder of excuses I've given myself, so I don't repeat them (much).

*I'm not counting scribbled notes about things I plan to write, or a few phrases that didn't even develop into sentences. They were written down, but until they become somewhat comprehensible, they don't get added to the word count for that day.

The Day before the Writing Conference

2010-04-29T12:11:00.000-05:00

Since December, I have been working two jobs, sneaking my writing and blogging in here and there. (One reason this blog has been so lonely.) Starting tomorrow morning, my focus will be all about writing for two days. I won't be writing, per se, but I will be learning about writing--which I enjoy just as much.

Now that job #2 is coming to a close (within the next month), I will be able to focus more on my own writing, so this conference comes at a great time.

A few goals for this weekend:

By listening to various agents, editors, writers, I hope to clarify my writing priorities. I have quite a few balls in the air and my juggling efforts are making me dizzy.
Learn all I can about the writing process, types of writing and markets, and ways writers market themselves so I can share on my http://www.excuseeditor.com/ website.
Continue to build up a support network of writers.
Sell my copies of the Chicken Soup for the Soul books, especially the latest: Thanks Dad.

But, before I can do any of that, I need to:

Give a few census tests in Wichita and Archer counties.
Empty my car so that Paula and I have room for our suitcases and books.
Pack
Sleep (not much, we'll be leaving before the sun comes up!)

Have a great weekend!

End of the Meyer/Haapala Feud Part 2

2010-01-25T13:52:00.001-06:00

Full Disclosure: I haven't read any of the Harry Potter books, either.

So maybe it wasn't just the jealousy that kept me away from the Twilight saga. I try to read the type of books I want to write, and I just don't see myself in the fantasy/YA realm at all. Frankly, I'm not sure I have the imagination to sustain a full-length novel of that kind.

And yet, for the past few weeks, I've carried Twilight to my Census testing locations (yes, I'm a part-time government worker again) and tried to explain to anyone who caught me reading it:
It's for my book discussion group.
I don't know why I felt like I needed to make excuses. It's just that the 500 page book and its recognizable cover seemed to call me out-- either as immature or one of those 30-something women lusting over the teenage boys in the movies.

So, that's what finally got me to crack open the story of Forks and its strange inhabitants-- the undying wish to be the good student who reads what she's told to and participates in class. Even though its not a class. And nobody cares if I really read the book or not. But still.

I'm pretty talkative in these discussions. It reminds me a little of Mrs. Bocquin's or Mrs. Levitt's classes back in high school. I loved the chance to reach deeper into a story, to analyze and interpret what a certain phrase meant to me, or for the world. At the library, I love to interact with all of the other people who read the books through their own lenses. Sometimes, it's hard to get me to shut up when I've been especially moved-- both in good and bad ways-- by a book.

I was thinking about what kind of little speech I would give about this book that has been sold millions of copies, in many different languages, and inspired devoted fans throughout the world.

My first thought:
Group: What did you think about the book?
Me: Eh (insert shoulder shrug here). Next.

OK, OK, that's really not fair. And YES, I really AM over the jealousy. But, unlike most other people who read this book, I am not so concerned about when I'm going to read the next one. I'm somewhat interested in what will happen next (although, it's kind of like finding out the ending of Sixth Sense a year after it came out-- I KNOW what happens, I would be a little curious to know the details), but not enough to head to the library to check out New Moon.

The story-- not so bad. The characters-- annoying. However, this may just be because I'm too old. Yes, that can happen at 30-something. All I kept thinking was-- THIS is not your soulmate, Bella. He's bad for you. Not just because he says it's so hard for him to hold back (it's not just the 200 year old teenage vampires using this line), it's because he's a STALKER for heaven's sakes. Would you put up with that kind of behavior from a human-- if your teenage boyfriend wanted to install cameras in your bedroom so he could watch you sleep?! Why is this intrusion of privacy/controlling behavior thought of as romantic?

Yeah, I know-- old married lady, get over it. Fair enough. My novel in progress has a 19 year old female main character-- and she makes some bad choices too. I think why Bella's drive to stay with Edward even when he was, quite frankly, a jerk to her bugged me because they TALKED about it so much.

Again, this is pretty realistic. I can remember the hours of conversation with my high school boyfriend about why we were so wrong or so good for each other, depending on if we were broken up that week or not. Living it is one thing. Reading it is another. It got repetitive.

And the yo-yo of Edward's emotions drove me nuts. Bella had to walk on eggshells all of the time, not able to be herself with him, in case THIS kiss or THIS word may set him off. Let's prepare young Bella for an emotionally abusive relationship, shall we?

OK, that may be a bit extreme. After all, Edward did what he could to save her life, including holding back when it counted most. He's not a total bad sparkly vampire, he just rubbed me the wrong way. Bella seemed too smart to get involved with someone bad for her. But we all did that, didn't we?

I guess I got pretty involved with the lives of Bella and Edward. I guess that means that the writing was good enough to pull me in, and to keep the pages turning. And as a writer nobody to a world-renowned Author, I'd like to officially say to Ms. Meyer: Congrats, good story.

Just because I didn't agree with the actions of the characters doesn't mean I didn't enjoy discovering the story-- actually, my disagreement shows that I was at least engaged.

I can only hope for so much the next time I have a crazy dream I want to write about.

The End of the Stephenie Meyer/Tina Haapala Feud

2010-01-24T15:33:00.001-06:00

I've decided to end my feud with Stephenie Meyer. I'm sure she'll be relieved.

She probably doesn't remember how it started. Well, I do.

I was living in Phoenix a few years ago. I worked at my so-called "real job" while fantasizing what it would be like if I actually had the time to write. I would take a writing class or workshop here and there. I bought a two-bedroom condo, intending to turn the spare bedroom, with the high ceiling and the big beautiful tree right outside the window, into my writing room.

As soon as I got the room painted.
And a good computer.
And learned a little bit more about how to BE a writer, anyway.
Oh, if my job didn't keep me too busy.
Etc.
(See, I really am qualified enough to be the Excuse Editor)

I read the Arizona Republic cover to cover every morning before I went to the office. One morning, I read all about this woman, who was the exact same age as me (actually, I'm 7 months older) who just signed a three book deal. She had never even written or published a short story, an essay, anything. No, she just had a dream one night, and decided to type it out before she forgot. She worked it out in her head as she potty trained and took her kids to swimming lessons. THREE MONTHS LATER, she started submitting Twilight-- a 500 page YA novel. Five hundred pages! That must have been one hell of a dream.

I couldn't finish my breakfast. I had started my novel at least 20 different times at that point, and all I had to show for it was a smattering of pages, stuffed in drawers in frustration. Because I didn't have the time. I didn't want to face the truth. Stephenie Meyer wrote though diaper changes, parent-teacher conferences, and she's Mormon, so probably four hour church time on Sundays-- and I hadn't written a full chapter, even though my only real responsiblity was to clean out the kitty litter box once in a while.

I didn't think about that at all. I was just angry, and sure that Twilight was some kind of fluke. Vampires. Whatever.

I refused to get caught up in the Twilight hysteria. When everyone around me was reading the books, I stood strong. There are too many good Grown up books to read, I'm not going to start reading kid books now.
In the past two years, now in Texas, I watched kids in my sub classes, from 5th to 12th grades dragging these thick books around. I became the only woman I knew who hadn't read any of the Twilight books. My friends raved. My sister cheered between each book. But my jealousy kept me away. I wouldn't face the sparkly vampires freely.

But then, the movie came out, and I had an afternoon to entertain my stepsons.

The movie didn't totally change my mind about wanting to read the book. I actually felt a little good about giving myself an excuse to still not read it-- what's the point, I saw the movie.

But seeing the book reminded me of a few important things, and those things eased my irrational Stephenie Meyer jealousy.

In order to finish, you need to start. Nothing was going to happen with my writing until I stopped thinking about it, talking about it-- I needed to be Writing it! The only person to blame was myself.
If you are jealous of someone, it is only because you want to do the same thing yourself. Well, duh. I didn't need to take it out on some stranger (not like the lost sale did much to hurt her), it wasn't about her, or any other writer who succeeds.
People love a good story. I wasn't thrilled with the movie, but I could see how the themes drew people in-- first love, danger, the struggle to be yourself. Put all that together with a moody Robert Pattison and you can't help but look. (I just discovered that he's going to be in the movie adaptation of Water for Elephants-- THAT was a great book)

So, I ended my feud. I no longer had to avoid Team Cullen conversations or walk swiftly passed the YA section in the bookstore. But what finally got me to READ the book...

Stay tuned, and I'll tell you what I thought, too.

Fellow Writer

2009-12-26T21:44:00.000-06:00

I've been delivering for Meals on Wheels for a little over two years, so I've had more than a few moments that have taken my breath away because of emotion or laughter. But one delivery in particular has stayed on my mind.

A few weeks ago, I was coming to the end of my deliveries. I walked up to the apartment and saw that the note was still there: "Meals on Wheels, please come in". The last few weeks it had been there. It was too difficult for the woman I was delivering to to leave her bedroom to come to the front door. This was a relatively new stop for me, but I already knew the layout of the apartment. I knew that Mrs. N would be in the first bedroom, and she liked me to place her meal on the shelf of her walker.

I announced myself as usual. Mrs. N was in bed, the TV was chattering away. Maybe Drew and the Price is Right. As I put her meal in the usual spot, Mrs. N asked if I was ready for Christmas.

I'm never ready for Christmas. Or Birthdays. Or Anniversaries. I could blame it on writing deadlines, but that would just be a cop-out. It's just a portion of my procrastination recovery that's still in progress.

I told Mrs. N that I was struggling a bit with what to get my stepsons.

"Oh," she said, "twelve year old twin boys, that should be easy! What sports do they like?"
"None."
"Do they play instruments?"
"No, my husband tried that," I told her. "They've had a drum set and a keyboard in their bedroom, but they are not interested at all."
"Well, what kind of books do they like to read?"
"Oh," I said, "I think they like the vampire stuff that's popular right now...It's just hard to get them off the video games."
She knew all about the draw of the video games. She had a grandson.
We talked a bit about other hobbies we could try and force-- I mean, encourage-- the kids to try. My husband had recently talked them into trying to build a few models and rockets, so that was already in the works. I had glimpsed at a few emails from one of the twins and could see his grasp of spelling and grammar was above his grade level. The other twin had won two writing contests at school in the past few years. So, of course, I wanted to encourage them to write.
"Yes!" she was excited. "That's wonderful. Get them into writing!" She told me that she'd been many different things in her life; a teacher, a nurse "and I've published three books!"
"You're a writer?" Evidence was right there, but I hadn't noticed: a notebook beside her on the bed. It was like bumping into a long lost member of my family. "I'm a writer, too."
"Well," Mrs. N said, "I should sign a book for you." She reached for her walker.
"Oh, that's ok, don't trouble--"
But she insisted. We slowly made our way into the dining room. She guided me to her books in the crowded bookcase. All of those books! How had I missed that before?
"Please," I said, "how much are you selling these for?"
She wouldn't take a dime.

I opened up my signed copy later that night. Her stories are laugh out loud funny. Her collection follows the antics of the colorful characters in a small Texas town, lead by the new Lady Sherrif/Town Historian who tries to keep them all under control. The only reason I'm not promoting it right here is to respect her privacy, although she said I could give her information out to interested parties. If you want to find out more, send me a private email at tinahaapala (at) gmail (dot) com, and I'll help you out. You can't have my copy, I don't care if it's Christmastime;)

Interruptions

2009-11-20T12:45:00.000-06:00

Poor little blog. The new baby blog has taken over all the attention. So for those who are wondering what I've been up to, here's a very brief update.

Excuse Editor -- I've been working on this website, newsletter, and a thing I call The Scoop (contests and writing markets) quite a bit. I'll also be offering some new writing (ebooks, etc) and teleclasses/workshops in the future. It's quite a bit of work, putting it all together.
Vacation -- From what, you may ask? Does one Really need an excuse to run away to New Orleans? No, I didn't think so, either. I spent a great 4 days around the French Quarter eating, drinking, and listening to LIFE.
Writing-- OK, no link for that. I've snuck in some of my own writing here and there, but not as much as I would like. I did get word from Chicken Soup for the Soul that one of my stories is a finalist for a book coming out in the spring, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed! I also received a rejection (or, a "denied" status) for a short story. It may not have been the same caliber as the contest winner, but I still think it has worth, so I will send it out to other markets.
Facebook--This can be an evil time waster or a valuable resource. I don't play any games or anything like that, but still find myself drawn in. I will learn to only use FB for good, not evil. Wish me luck (and friend me:)

Until next time!

My Visit to the Real World

2009-10-24T19:36:00.000-05:00

Since losing my last steady job (it may be in the couch cushions, I can't be sure), I've been lucky enough to get by with part-time gigs and temporary work assignments, on top of the writing. I've had a few chances to go back to the daily grind/steady paycheck world, but freedom from the cubicle has been difficult to give up. I know myself well enough to recognize that if I took a full time position, that I wouldn't just walk away if it wasn't for me. So why put myself or some unsuspecting company in that position? If I choose a Full-Time gig, it will be "until lay-offs do us part".

So for now, I'm embracing my fear of (job) committment; my goal of self-employment celebrates my Un-attached (to a company) status.

This week, I worked a temp job; I answered phones, logged deposits, entered data-- that sort of thing. The work was not difficult. What drained me, I think, is the amount of time spent in each day that had to be allocated to everything but my own life. The days became all about this outside job. I had to actually COMMUTE, a concept I really haven't had to deal with for years. Besides working at home, my other jobs have been at most ten minutes away. Yes, I've been spoiled. This week, I had to drive about 20 miles there, and 20 miles back. I KNOW this is not crazy, but for me, this added planning and scheduling I've avoided. How does my alarm clock work again?

The round trip felt like part of the work day for me. I mean, you have to drive and think, that's it. So your mind is constantly on The Work -- am I going to be to work on time? Will work be good? on the way there, and wow, that was a long day. I can't believe how many times I had to repeat the same things all day.. on the way back.

As soon as I got home, I had to start dinner. I had already planned what I would be making, so that wasn't so difficult. The hard part was no real down time in between. I've been taking an online class that meets at 6, so by the time I made it home and threw dinner in the oven, I had to hide away in my office. When class was over, I had some of the dinner. By this time, I was exhausted. I had writing to do, but my brain seemed to be stuck on snooze.

"How do people do this everyday?" I asked my husband, someone who has to wake up at 3AM every morning to make it to work on time, yet still finds time to perfect his guitar skills. He, understandably, had little sympathy.

"This is the real world," he told me.

He's right. I'd forgotten.

Well, it's interesting place to visit, but I'm still not sure if I want to live there.

New Attitude...

2009-10-14T17:17:00.000-05:00

Well, since the last time I posted, some things have shifted a bit. Most of those "things" were my excuses. I was really letting them pile up, and it was time to clean house and move some positive thoughts AND ACTIONS into their place.

Writing is a solitary activity, and I don't really mind that. However, I think I got into my head that I should be Miss Independent and try and figure how to get to the next step all on my own. I'm always willing to help out other people interested in writing when they ask; I finally realized that there were people out there willing to help me too!

So, in the spirit of keeping the encouragment going full circle, I've started another blog. It's called Excuse Editor . I really look forward to helping others as I continue on this writing journey. Stop by and let me know what you think!

You're not the Boss of Me!

2009-09-05T17:11:00.009-05:00

...and neither am I, apparently.

I started the week with a fairly detailed and, I thought, achievable, schedule for my writing projects. I needed to give it more of a "work" feel-- I used spreadsheets, I utilized my Outlook calendar, I even dressed for the office (ok, that's a lie, I don't leave the house in my home office clothes, unless it's to the gym).

Monday was pretty productive. I started early and ended my work day completing most of my 'inbox' for the day. That way, I didn't feel like much of a slacker when Shari stopped by to enjoy a beer on the back patio. I had resisted the urge to meet her to go shopping first, SO I COULD FINISH SOME WORK. I was very proud of myself.

Tuesday started out doubtful. I had a little trouble waking up, so I hit hubby's newest craigslist find, the treadmill. I knew I was in for a rough day when I struggled to "run" a mile. After my shower, I got right to work. Well, after some breakfast. Oh, and after doing some edits on Paula's proof-- I need editing practice, it's just not my editing. But she shouldn't have to wait to get her proof back, she's already finished her novel. Besides, hearing just a chapter at a time in our writing group is driving me nuts-- I want to know what happens to Revis and Toby and the rest of the Kirkland ranch folks...

I finally got some momentum going when it was time to go to my book discussion group and then to my belly dance class. Well, there's always tomorrow...

By Wednesday, my projects were in Code Red status. I really needed to catch up. There used to be a time when I could get tons of work done in a given day. (Didn't I?) A lot of times, I didn't even feel like doing it, but I did it! I really do love writing, so what was the problem? I tried to figure out why I spend time doing things I hate. I thought about it while I did the laundry, I pondered it when I vacuumed up cat hair, I contemplated it while I washed the dishes... Hey! I really don't like that stuff (maybe that's why there was so much of it to do). I finally stopped all of the domestic goddess nonsense and got to work. Whew! I submitted an essay!! Five days before the deadline! Hooray!

Unfortunately, that was only one of the six things I wanted to accomplish BY Wednesday. My inbox was stacking up ridiculously high.

That really bummed me out on Thursday. Short bursts of energy were followed with bouts of despair as I realized, at the rate I was going (about as fast as paying off a maxed out credit card by only sending the minimum every month), I would miss all of my (mostly self imposed) deadlines.

On Friday, I took a substitute teaching job as proof to myself that I could accomplish something. Oh, and to remind myself, when they took me from "hall monitor" duty to teach a math class, that I COULD HAVE BEEN WRITING!

So, it's Saturday, and I've plugged away on a few things today. I wrote a quickie review on the book that delayed some of my writing last week,Bitter is the New Black.I've made some notes on other projects, and I may get some more done yet tonight. But inbox is still pretty full.

And I have no one to blame but myself. The person looking over my shoulder, handing me challenges that I'm capable of-- the person who will allow me to "move up" isn't behind a big office door; she's right here, the little voice in my head. I know I need to listen to her when she says things like close the Facebook window and get back to work; you have already seen every episode of Law & Order, don't waste your time; and you've already eaten lunch... TWICE-- Sit Down!

Well, I believe this post will sufficiently shame me into being a more efficient writer-- it's a "warning" to myself, in a way. If this behavior continues, I will have no choice but enforce an unrelenting punishment-- something like accepting a kindergarten sub job in the middle of cold/flu season-- No, Billy, I don't want to see what you found in your nose...

Gotta go. Have much writing to do!

You can't make this stuff up!

2009-08-31T21:47:00.004-05:00

Recently, I worked a temporary job at a local company. My co-worker-for-the-week asked me about the other work I did. I started to tell her about substitute teaching.

She asked what it was like, and I was honest with her. "It can be rough. But I am a writer, so I can turn a bad day into material." I told her about the joke that the sixth graders played on me that I turned into an essay called Substitute Initiation.

"Wait a minute," she said, "That was you?"

I guess even though the episode happened over a year ago, the story lives on, even without my publication. Her son was in the same grade, same school-- and apparently, the "rookie sub" story had made the rounds. All the kids were talking about the whole class getting the new sub good. They also knew that no one person took full responsibility for the incident (nor did anybody rat out the original culprits), causing the whole class to spend a day in in-school suspension.

I knew last school year that the kids had not forgotten. I ran into a few of them in the different middle schools. A glimmer of recognition would pass their faces when I introduced myself.

"Hey didn't you sub last year at---"
"Aren't you the sub that--"

I would try to avoid answering the question directly. "I certainly wouldn't stand for such nonsense. Now, open your book and start your lesson."

But they knew it was me. Now, I know their parents heard about me as well. I could be embarrassed, but that is inconsistent with my goals as a writer, especially a writer of personal essays. Writers have to expose themselves to get to their own true voice. This is the only way to honestly share their message.

I had my reasons to become a sub. I didn't know what I was getting into, and that was half of the fun of it. In order to write about life, I have to live it. And I'm trying to not worry if my face turns red every once in a while-- I have to remember; it just might make a great story someday.

Pocketa-Pocketa-Pocketa

2009-08-04T16:50:00.007-05:00

My mind was wandering today, as it often does, and I was lead into a memory of a short story I first read in high school. "The Secret Life of Walter Mitty" was written by James Thurber in 1939. If you haven't read it, or forgot, here's a link.

Mitty's daydreaming is usually interpreted as him trying to escaping his mundane life. In his fantasies, he's a surgeon, a navy commander, a man on trial... He becomes men in situations far from his 'forgetful-husband self' out for a day of shopping with his wife. His fantasy lives are filled with tension, exactly what writers need to keep a story flowing.

Maybe Mitty wasn't really just escaping, he was plotting. Mitty really wanted to be a writer, so his mind was always thinking of stories, characters, suspense-- he just happened to put himself in the starring role. Nothing so strange about that. In The Lie That Tells a Truth, a book about fiction writing, the author talked about how all stories reveal traits, hopes, and fears about the writer, even if the writer doesn't mean to.

Besides, the mind of the writer can be a very surreal place for the uninitiated. From one moment to the next, a writer could be thinking about the interactions of her characters, thinking-- would they really do that? Why? So much of my writing takes place away from the computer-- I'll be at the grocery store or the gym and suddenly a scene pops into my head, and sometimes I even stop and wait to see it through (and hope that the pens in my purse work this time!).

Substitute Initiation

2009-07-31T21:06:00.004-05:00

I received my contributor's copy for My First Year in the Classroom today. Always a nice little boost to see my name in print! Glancing through the other author's bios in the back of the book, I see that I share the pages with some interesting writers and teachers-- very cool.

Getting this book was also a reminder that I have to take chances and just jump, even when I may think that the story won't work for some reason. When I came across the "call for submissions", I didn't think much of it at first, even though I had been substitute teaching for a few months. It seemed like it was for "real" teachers, those who made lesson plans, graded tests, and got to know their students more than I did. But I had a story to share about those first crazy days of subbing, and didn't know where else to send it.

I'm glad I took the leap!

Lonely Little Blog

2009-06-24T14:02:00.004-05:00

The good news is, I've been writing! The bad news, not on this blog!

The whole purpose of this blog was to:

Keep me writing.
Have a place to discuss my process of writing, including talking about the books I read that keep me curious about the process.
Update the places where my writing can be found.

Well, I've succeeded on #1, I'm writing. But by the time I'm done writing and editing a piece to submit somewhere, I'm moving on or getting away from the computer.

For #2, I could do more meta-writing (writing about writing). I actually have a few things in the works along those lines that may end up on my helium site. Until then, I'll make a little more of an effort to get some thoughts down in here.

And #3, well, that's pretty current, too. The only for sure thing besides helium is the my tale of substitute teaching woe coming up in My First Year in the Classroom. It's still about a month away.

Now, to be fair, I have a good amount of travelling coming up in the next few weeks. I may not be writing much about anything! Instead, I'll be living life-- all so I can get even more material --two long distance road trips: one with 2 "tween-agers" in the backseat, and one for a big family get together/wedding/everyone meeting the love of my life for the first time-- if that's not living drama, I don't know what is!

So there! I've blogged! Little blog should feel less lonely now...

Nose in a Book: gods in Alabama

2009-06-08T20:58:00.005-05:00

I gave myself plenty of time to read my discussion group's July choice, gods in Alabama by Joshilyn Jackson. Instead, it was like opening a whole bag of potato chips-- I know that there's supposed to be 15 adequate servings in that bag, but instead, I devoured the whole thing in two sittings!

Just "one more" chapter continuously kept me turning the pages, until I was done in the wee hours of the morning. Jackson certainly has learned the important technique of keeping tension on every page. As the main character, Arlene, deals with her overbearing, dysfunctional family and her own real and imagined demons, I could hear myself saying, "Oh no, what now?!" And to find out, I kept reading.

Arlene left her family and, she thought, her past, far behind in Alabama when she escaped to Yankee country. While in Chicago, she focuses on her education and keeping her deal with God. Part of that deal involves being celibate, even though she has been involved with Burr for two years. Luckily, I didn't need to be as patient as this saintly boyfriend to finally find out why Arlene would agree to such a hardship. All indications point to the celibacy being one of the problems in their relationship. It is just another wall that Burr feels Arlene has built around her, not letting him in. As the story unfolds, you start to understand why she has made these choices. It's all related to the reasons she can't go home again.

Arlene's walls have gotten so sturdy over the past decade, she's boxed herself in. She's on the verge of losing her boyfriend and her past being exposed if she doesn't break through. As those walls begin to crumble, the chapters alternate between her Alabama past and her driving-to-Alabama present. Layers of the emotional mystery of the past unravel, and we watch as Arlene tries to determine what it all means to who she is today. She's kept secrets for so long, to protect herself and to protect her family. When are secrets meant to be spoken?

Arlene is a very interesting character. There were times when I wasn't even sure if she was likable-- some of her actions seemed so selfish in the beginning that I started thinking, well, no wonder... if you act like that. But Jackson paces the story in such a way that you begin to understand why she did what she did, and how it's going to take something pretty big to fix the damage done. I was impressed with the bravery to put Arlene on the page, because there were parts of her that, on the surface, were unlikable and over the top.

There's much discussion between Burr and Arlene, especially as they drive to meet her family, about race. Arlene is white, Burr is black. Arlene figures her racist family will see the man in her life as another slap in their faces-- a revolt against everything they believe in. But the fact that Arlene only crossed paths with him because of his southern sounding mama shows that there was something in her that was trying to unite her past and present to make her whole.

I went online as soon as I finished gods in Alabama to see what else Jackson has written. I was surprised to learn that this was her debut novel. She has a few more,Between, Georgia and The Girl Who Stopped Swimming, which was recently released in paperback. One or both will be in my bag this summer.

***

P.S. Click Here to read my Helium review of gods in Alabama.

Nose in a Book: Time and Again by Jack Finney

2009-06-02T16:58:00.006-05:00

Tonight my reading discussion group will talk about Time and Again by Jack Finney. When I went to pick it up at the library, I was surprised to see that it was a Science Fiction book. I hadn't read SciFi in years, and wasn't sure if I was going to enjoy it enough to finish it in 4-5 days.

Surprisingly, I finished it in 2! Granted, I got nothing else done on Saturday, since I read it until the wee hours of the morning. Yes, the time travel aspect of it was very interesting (I love the idea of time happening all at once, but we just don't perceive it that way), but I was more drawn into the mystery, and then the action close to the end.

Si Morely is the main character. He's asked to work with the government on a secret time travel project. He agrees, as long as he can go back to the time and place that has plagued his girlfriend, Kate, since she was young.

Even when the project is seen as dangerous and questions arise about its ethics, Si becomes absorbed in finding out what haunted a man in New York in 1882 enough to cause him to take his own life years later. But that wasn't the only draw to 1882-- Si starts to "go native", thinking of the new time as home and seeing modern day problems through the primitive lenses of the previous century.

There were the standard questions that often arise with time travel stories-- how do our actions impact the lives of those around us, etc-- time travel stories often take those questions to a higher level. But in this case, I was impressed with the idea of what a government would do if it had that kind of power. Si's story gives us a chance to reflect on the nature of that power.

***
I mentioned that I am now a part of Helium. They have a place for book reviews, so I reviewed Time and again there as well. Click here to read that review. I'll still have my "Nose in a Book", but on my blog, it's a little more personal:)

Up, up and away!!

2009-06-02T16:40:00.002-05:00

Take a look at my articles on Helium. I'm hoping this will be good practice for writing and editing quickly. I will have to stay on point, and keep the reader entertained, since the other writers are rating me! And unlike a blog, once it is up-- it's UP forever-- you cannot delete your articles.

I wonder if that's why they call the site Helium?

Finish Lines

2009-05-31T11:38:00.005-05:00

I dragged myself to the lake the other morning. It seemed like a beautiful day for a run. Problem was, I hadn't done that 3 mile loop in quite a while.

I started out good enough; kept a steady pace, enjoyed the birds and the flowers along the path. I'm finally getting a nice run. This is great! Why have I waited so long? I worked at keeping my breath manageable, my stride easy. If I kept it up, I would have my workout done in no time!

My enthusiasm waned about half way, however. I tried mental pep talks: You're already half-way! No slowing down now! You're doing great! But the sun felt stronger, the humidity stickier. So hot...

I rationalized slowing down to take advantage of the shade along the path. As soon as I'm out in the sun, I'll pick up speed again. Besides, isn't it about enjoying nature anyway? I had decided the day was too nice to spend it inside on a treadmill watching a square box watching yet another episode of Law and Order. My MP3 player isn't working, so I was able to listen to the birds and the quiet lapping of the water against the shore. I could hear the cyclists coming up behind me, rather than jumping every time one passed me.

I fought away the negative thoughts: I should've come out an hour earlier, it wasn't so hot. I'm out of practice, I'm not going to get back to where I was-- and I'm especially not going to improve.

That was enough! Hey! I'm doing the best I can! I adjusted my pace to something I could handle. At least I'm moving...I knew I would reach my goal eventually-- it wasn't going anywhere. My car was patiently waiting there, and my water bottle. I was thirsty. I had no choice but to keep on going.

I finally made it to my finish line. My face was crimson, my clothes more than just moist. But the sense of accomplishment was there, convincing me that it was a great run, a great experience-- even if it seemed tough at times. I took a long drink of water and thought about coming back again the next day.

I realized later that I often feel the same about my writing. I put it off, knowing I want to do it, and that I will enjoy it. I know it will be difficult and pleasurable at the same time. I look forward to that finish line: getting the next draft or revision done. Just like the run, writing is good for my heart-- I need to do it for my health, body and mind. The simplest but really profound motto: Just do it, says so much. That's really all there is.

Just do it.

Sign here, please...

2009-05-28T23:17:00.004-05:00

I have been to four book signings in my entire life. And they were all for the same author, Laurie Notaro.

I had laughed out loud at all of her columns, but showed up at the first signing because she was discussing self publishing. Apparently, she had went that route after being rejected time and time again.

It was just after 9/11, and, like most people, she was finding it hard to be her funny self. Instead, she kept it low key and informative, telling the smallish audience about her experiences publishing a book of her columns (getting cover art together, etc.).

When it came time to buy the books to sign, Laurie found out that her box of books hadn't arrived. If you've read any of her books, you'll know that this is just the thing that would happen to her-- showing up to a book signing with no books. Well, by that time, I was sold-- I really wanted that book-- and I wanted a real honest to goodness author to SIGN IT. It wouldn't be as fun to go to iuniverse.com and just order it. They improvised, and some of us ordered our books to pick up at the bookstore when they finally arrived. Laurie signed little address labels or something that we could later affix into our copies.

So now my iuniverse copy of The Idiot Girls' Action-Adventure Club has a strange little sticker on the inside cover: Tina--Thank you for coming and not leaving. I really really appreciate it! Rock on. Laurie Notaro. I just love that. I can still pick this book up and laugh my ass off! A while after she self published and sold a boat-load that way, Random House became interested and picked her up for a two-book deal.

I loved the little "Rock on" part of the signing. I missed the phrase when she signed my copy of Autobiography of a Fat Bride: Tina-- Thank you, Thank you! Laurie Notaro. I wondered if she thought I no longer had it in me to Rock On. But I was Rock-worthy the next two books, so all was good.

This was on my mind because I sold a few of my Chicken Soup for the Soul books today. I was asked to sign them. I am really at a loss for what to write when this happens, and I'm afraid that what I've signed in a few of the books is totally awful-- certainly not as cool as "Rock on". I would love to say "Rock on" but not only would that be totally unoriginal, it doesn't work for the essays I have out so far. Everything so far has been about school or college.

Well...

Maybe I'll just use this blog's title from now on:

Hi, Person Who Read My Essay. Hope you Finish with an A! --Tina Haapala

Don't Think.

2009-05-10T18:05:00.006-05:00

Don't think. Thinking is the enemy of creativity. You simply 'must do' things. --Ray Bradbury

This is fantastic advice. Too bad it is difficult for me to follow. I spend so much time thinking about writing, studying about writing, reading what other people have written, and watching the performances of people who had to act out something that someone wrote-- well, before I know it, my actual writing is nowhere to be found.

Thinking does put a big barrier in the writing process, at least for first drafts. I forget sometimes that it is a draft-- it's not supposed to be great the first time out. I loved the 4th grader who expained his writing process: "Well, first, I wrote a sloppy copy."

Of course-- Sloppy Copy. It's supposed to be a mess. That's where the feeling comes out, the raw energy when the idea is new and fresh-- and young. The birth of your idea can be painful and messy-- and, well, it doesn't look like it's quite done yet, but you know, this baby is beautiful anyway.

Revision is the time where the writing-- 'your baby' -- grows up.

I'll write about that when I have more to revise!

Nose in a Book

2009-04-19T17:29:00.003-05:00

Whew! (and wow)

I just finished The Hour I First Believed by Wally Lamb. I could not put it down all weekend, and my biceps are a little more defined because of it.

This is big book, and big story, for sure.

I knew that its main focus was going to be about the Columbine tragedy, and how a husband and wife who worked at the school dealt with the aftermath. It was about that, and so much more. Through the main character, Caelum, I was able to ache for all of the victims of that and other tragedies that have happened in the years since. Even as Caelum built a wall of liquid resistance to all the pain, I still felt hope that somehow, all of this random violence would make some kind of sense in the end.

I suppose I had to believe that, in some way, to keep me reading a book that is so devastating. There were a few nights when I would have to read or watch something funny to get the images out of my head-- because, although this was a work of fiction, Columbine was all too real. Lamb's descriptions, and Maureen's (the wife in the book) reactions as a survivor have me living through the shock of it all. Finishing the book now made it all the more poignant. Tomorrow is the 10 year anniversary of that tragedy. And, like much of the other tragedy that happens in this book, Columbine will always seem senseless.

And yet, Lamb's exploration of so many grim life tales still left me feeling somewhat hopeful. This is what good writing does. It lets us explore Life. It lets us question the Big questions. Sometimes there are answers. Sometimes there's just another journey waiting, so that we can keep on asking, keep on wondering.

Silly Poetry

2009-04-04T22:12:00.003-05:00

I don't write poetry.

However, it seems that people who do are having so much fun, maybe I should.

It all started with this contest that specifically asked participants to write a bad poem.

Why not? If I lose, I failed at being bad. If I win, I get some money and a chuckle. Works for me.

April is National Poetry Month. This blog is having a Poem-A-Day challenge, so I thought (again) why not?

Somewhere in my reading about writing, I learned that all kinds of writers could benefit from studying poetry. After all, it is ALL about feeling-- all about "Showing, not telling"-- that rule that I have to repeat over and over when I start getting wordy.

I'm not off to a great start. I've finished the poems, but they are short and off the cuff, and I'm not editing them at all. My rationale is-- at least it gets me writing and thinking about writing. In other words, it's a good warm up. Maybe I'll even surprise myself and learn something. (Many of the other poems are really good, so it's a fun distraction.)

We'll see...

Writer/Teacher/Govt. worker

2009-03-24T09:23:00.006-05:00

Unless you happen to have a flexible safety net, being a writer full time isn't always possible. When I was laid off from my last full time gig (after being there for 10 years), I was lucky enough to have a little cushion to land on. It didn't take long to figure out that the landing would continue to get rougher as time went by, if I wasn't able to supplement it a little bit.

I wanted to focus on the writing, but still have a trickle of income-- as well as keeping some kind of work record on my resume, should I have to go back to a cubicle job. Those are a few reasons I started substitute teaching. Also, I wondered if I would enjoy it enough to go back to school to get certified. That hasn't happened yet.

I'm also working with the US Census--- temporarily, intermittently.

And I'm still submitting essays and short stories whenever I can.

So I suppose I'm working at becoming a "slash"-- one of those people who keeps themselves busy in many different ways. You may think it lacks the security of a full time job, but nothing is really "secure", is it?

I'm about half-way through One Person/Multiple Careers: A New Model for Work/Life Success, by Marci Alboher. She shows some great examples of people living the "slash" work/lifestyle. Seeing other people opting out of the traditional workstyle helps me to feel a little less scattered. After being strictly someone else's employee for so long, I thought I was acting irresponsibly, even though my bills were still getting paid, and I wasn't running up the credit cards. Somewhere along the line, I got the impression that the bulk of my time should be spent developing a career, not nourishing a dream.

Now I'm thinking, why not a little of both?

Coming soon...

2009-03-03T17:39:00.004-06:00

Chicken Soup for the Soul: Campus Chronicles will include my story, "Finding Common Ground". Its scheduled release date is April 7, 2009.

Nose in a Book...

2009-03-03T16:25:00.007-06:00

Snow Flower and the Secret Fan by Lisa See was the April selection for my book group, but I was in the over-achieving mode, so I started it early.

It's a relatively short book, about 250 pages, but what you get in those pages is a whole other world. It's set in nineteenth-century China, a time and place where class and gender determine the quality and rules of lives.

In this book, you follow Lily from a bright seven year old to a dimming elderly woman. As she tells you about her life, you come to understand how a woman's status was developed from the culture's definition of beauty, most importantly, the smallness of her feet. Lily was destined to have exceptional feet; those that would be easily bound and broken to submit to the cultural ideal at the time.

Those carefully bound feet would allow her to step up to a less common ground than the rest of her family. She is paired with another young girl in a laotong match that will last a lifetime. This is an emotional match that seemed to be allow the women to love and share in a time where it wasn't expected in their marriages.

The marriages were arranged. Through Lily and her laotong's matches you're taken to a time where women's usefulness was officially relegated to bearing male offspring. Females were considered weak and worthless.

This book focused on the power women had anyway. Their friendships and their secret nu shu language gave them a place and the means to stick up for themselves, to express themselves and to make meaning of their own lives. When Lily and Snow Flower's deep friendship is threatened, so are their very spirits.

I enjoyed following the friendship of these two girls as they grew into women. Two girls bound together in a laotong or many women bound as sworn sisters emphasized the importance of women's friendships. These women were expected to be together to prepare for the arranged marriages, creating slippers, clothes, and quilts, and then again when they outlived those husbands; the women could rely on each other when they were old and not re-marriage material.

I couldn't help relating the foot binding with other unrealistic or painful beauty ideals of today and the more recent past. Even Lily and Snow Flower-- with their feet bound small enough to be measured in centimeters--can't understand why women would allow their waists to be cinched small enough to be able to wrap their fingers around. Back in those days, an ultra tiny waist was considered beautiful in some parts of the world. At the height of Sex and the City fever, modern day foot binding, or getting a bone or two removed to fit into Jimmy Choo's, was not unheard of. People still take their lives in their hands when they try to meet the latest ideal. Young girls back then died from foot binding, young girls even today die from female genital mutilation, and some people have even died from complications from cosmetic surgery.

Will there ever be a time when just being ourselves is enough?

Nose in a Book...

2009-02-11T15:21:00.006-06:00

My reading group will be discussing The Necklace: Thirteen Women and the Experiment That Transformed Their Lives by Cheryl Jarvis next month. The basic premise of the book is 13 women share the cost of an expensive diamond necklace, and then find ways to share the necklace with each other and use it as a sharing "tool" in their community.

I was excited about this book-- anything that has a theme of "transformed lives" intrigues me. But by the time it came around to read it, I thought the timing couldn't be worse. We're bombarded with the gravity of a slumping world economy daily. How indulgent and irresponsible is it to even think about how a $37,000 necklace changed thirteen women's lives right now? Such extravagance, selfishness!

However, often while reading this book, I was touched. As these women found different ways to share with each other, I saw past the bling to the other things-- friendship, community, connection. I was especially drawn to the stories of the women who had, for various reasons, not cultivated many women friends. They had spent years attaching themselves to their work, husbands, children... and somehow the girlfriends got left behind. This group, mostly of women in their 50's, gave them the opportunity to get that back, and to remember how important those friendships are.

I was riding a roller-coaster of emotions while reading this book. The women in the group seemed to be going through the same. I would think that the women were looking past the whole materialism of such a necklace, especially with their fund-raising efforts. Then the women suddenly stated grasping for the bling yet again. They argued over loss of 'perceived value' if the diamond necklace was shared with 'just anybody' . For me, this chipped away at what the originator of the group had planned-- to have the necklace (named Jewelia) remind us of the value of sharing, not of one-upmanship.

I thought that there was a disconnect. Why did such good works have to be tied to something that is a status symbol? What about just helping for helpings sake?

I suppose that is the reason for Experiments. How will people act? Jonell got the spark for the idea while window shopping-- in the back of her mind looking for a little treat for herself for a recent real estate sale commission. In the California market, a few years ago when this started, she could really afford to treat herself. She's in a profession that can lead to good income. That income depends on people holding fast to ideas about status symbols, i.e. a big house on the beach! It's a false sense of what we Need to be happy. And Jewelia wasn't really what any of them Needed to be happy. But this is the world we've created, and this is the kind of thing that says-- it's beautiful, it's shiny, go ahead and smile.

I did. I smiled at the accounts of Jewelia being a welcome addition to special days in women's lives; I smiled at the memories that were created. I smiled most about the friendships that were created because of a strand of shiny rocks. I can't stay unnerved about the slight undertone of classism or extravagance I felt-- that's a instinctual reaction in these times, as well as my own past. After all, right on the cover, it says "the experiment that transformed their lives" (my emphasis). Just because I may feel that too much importance is placed on such a symbol of wealth doesn't mean these women didn't grow. If such a necklace were to be placed on my neck, I would feel out of sorts. These women didn't. They created friendships and obtained fundraising money from others because of it. Nothing wrong with that.

Chicken Soup for the Soul Stories

2009-02-10T21:51:00.001-06:00

A few months ago, two of my stories were published in Chicken Soup for the Soul books.

I revisited my senior year in high school for the story "No Silver Platter". As my college dreams started to seem to fade, I had to redefine how I would reach my goal of attending college. I hope students getting ready to enter college will be inspired by my story, as well as the others in Chicken Soup for the Soul: Teens Talk Getting In. . . to College: 101 True Stories from Kids Who Have Lived Through It (Chicken Soup for the Soul). The stories are all about surviving tests, interviews, essays, and everything else that teens have to manage to break into collegiate life.

The other story,"Misplaced Kisses", is found in Chicken Soup for the Soul: Teens Talk Middle School: 101 Stories of Life, Love, and Learning for Younger Teens (Chicken Soup for the Soul). I tell about an incident that really touched me. I still think about now, years later. A friend was severely injured in an accident. At the age of twelve, I learned how precious time and friends are. Middle school kids are really drawn to this book, because it is about them.

Even if you are not a teen, these books were worth reading. A sense of nostalgia is unavoidable, so get ready to remember the bumps and bruises of youth, along with the satisfaction of knowing you made it through! And if you are a teen, all of these stories stories remind you that you are not the only one going through all of this!

The books you read and the people you meet

2009-01-27T12:24:00.010-06:00

About 10 years ago, in a team building/motivational/I'm-just-glad-to-be-off-the- phones-for-an-hour-speech in a conference room in Phoenix, I heard that the only things that will really change your life will come from the books you read and the people you meet. I thought that was a really interesting way of thinking about life. The speaker didn't know who came up with it, but I've found that some version of the quote can be found everywhere.

So, once in a while, I'll take a look at some of the books and people that have shaped me in some way. Today, some books:

Anything by Wayne Dyer. I have read at least six or seven of his books, many of them more than once. Reading Dyer, or hearing him speak (on PBS) is inspirational, and educational-- pointing out that we all have the tools to create the lives we want--or Don't Want. I have to continuously read the books to remind myself how my mind is creating "My Life". A few of my favorite quotes:
"When you believe it, you will see it."
"When you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change."
Switching gears... It is so important to laugh, and to not take this life so seriously. I love writers who take their own lives and chuckle onto the page so we can laugh with them. Laurie Notaro is one of my favorites-- I laugh so much when I read her essays, even if I had read them 100 times already. David Sedaris is another favorite. Both of these writers point and laugh at the world around them, saying things you yourself are not witty enough to come up with, and would never say out loud, anyway. I admire the lack of fear that comes with that kind of writing.
As a kid, I couldn't get enough of Judy Blume. I devoured her books, so relieved to find a mirror of my feelings that was searching for a way to describe and understand. I still see kids reading her books when I'm subbing. When I was a kid, a librarian told me Blume's books would not be considered "classics", so were not worthwhile reading. I knew even then how wrong she was.

Happy Reading! It could change your life!

Nose in a Book...

2008-12-09T17:06:00.013-06:00

I recently read Outliers: The Story of Success, by Malcolm Gladwell. Just like his other books,The Tipping Point and Blink, this book cannot help but make you see the world in a slightly different way.

Here, Gladwell takes us into stories of success, many of them you may think you know. You know how phenomenal the Beatles were, how fantastic Bill Gates has been. But as Paul Harvey likes to say-- this is The Rest of the Story. Sure, hard work is part of the equation, shouldn't that go without saying? But exactly how much work it takes to be one of the super successful may really blow your mind.

And it will make you think, if you want to be at the very top of the game, you better start playing it now. And don't expect to slow down at all. For a very long time.

And when you are spending all of your free time becoming this great success, make sure you keep your eyes open for Lady Luck. Gladwell makes it very clear that many different variables had to be in place for these Outliers, these super successful people. It was almost as if the stars had to align for their success to even get started-- with a coincidence here, and a lucky break there, a brilliant mind is born. Don't get discouraged, just make sure you don't pass it by-- learn to say Yes when opportunities arise (Hmm, isn't that what Jim Carrey's new movie is about?)

The biggest eye opener is to see how some people are not given the opportunities, even when everything about them seems like they should. Take a look at how differently class and ethnicity influences the roads people take in life. You'll come away questioning every judgement you've ever made...

Outliers is a page turner, filled with stories that will sometimes inspire you, and sometimes frighten or sadden you. But above all, it will make you think.

Published Author;)

2008-11-21T16:57:00.005-06:00

Sometime during my fourth grade year, my class got to spend a few hours with an honest-to-goodness writer. He lead the class, getting our young minds motivated with metaphors and similes. We learned all about poetry; sometimes it rhymes, sometimes it doesn't. He encouraged us to be silly, to be brave, to write beautifully, or to write badly. It was all part of the process.

I already liked to write. That same year, I wrote a short story that won a prize in my class. The year before, I wrote short stories and knock-knock jokes, and was given a chance to laminate them and have them available for my classmates to check out at the school library.

The day the writer-in-residence came to visit our school, I wrote six or more poems. I remember one in particular I was quite proud of. I thought it painted a picture with words, just like the writer told us to do. Those words have since left my memory, although I feel nostalgia for rainbows, sherbet, and blooming flowers when I think of that missing poem.

Months later, I found out that some of the poems written by the students that day were going to be published in a book. I was very excited to find out that a poem of mine would be included.

Even more time passed, an eternity to me at the time, and the book was finally available. I flipped to the index and found my name among the five students from my school who had poems in the book.

"Tina Haapala, 30"

I flipped to page 30, eager to see which of my poems the writers deemed worthy of publication in an honest to goodness BOOK. My heart flipped a little as I started to read the words. But my excitement faded, and suddenly I felt a little embarrassed. THIS was the poem that was chosen? They read all of my poems, including the lyrical landscape of the rainbow sherbet poem, and THIS is what they chose?!

I hardly remember writing it. I can only assume it was written when we were given the direction to "be silly".

Always the good student, I followed directions. I was silly. And then, reading those words months later, I felt like I had just slipped on a banana peel.

I hid my disappointment; I didn't want anyone to think I was ungrateful. Doesn't every writer want to be published?

For now, I can just laugh at the nine year old responsible for the following poem, originally published in "Sun, Snow, Rain, You Name it" by the Wyoming Council on the Arts in 1983:

He had a name which was the same as yours
He never had famine;that's what I heard.
He had to remember, but he had a naked finger!
No string to remember, for Pete's sake.
He licked a lollipop and forgot--
He had to remember, but he had a naked finger.
No string to remember, for Pete's sake.
He couldn't eat sugar!!
So he died and in his will
he gave a nickel to everyone on Mars!
So, that was my first, and only, published poem (sigh).

To be a little easier on myself, I think if a fourth grader showed me this poem now, I would say it was pretty good. When a child hands you his art project, you praise him for his use of color and imagination, even if you don't know if it's supposed to be a horse or a house. But even back then, I was my worst critic. Some things don't change.

Getting published as an adult, a whole quarter century later, was a better experience. I was excited to see my name in print, my story on the pages. But, there's still a little part of me that thinks-- oh, maybe I should've said it this way, maybe I should've left out that. I guess it's just part of the process. I look forward to regretting more word choices, once I see them in print.

Tina Haapala

Stories by me...

2008-11-12T23:22:00.002-06:00

My stories can be found in these recently released Chicken Soup for the Soul books:

--Tina Haapala

Look at Tina!

2008-11-12T18:52:00.008-06:00

There's something strange about describing myself in the third person. I've had to write a few bio's for writing I've submitted. It's almost like looking at myself through someone else's eyes-- how are they going to see me? How do I want them to see me?

The bio is an odd combination of resume and online dating profile-- I want it to portray me as a serious, hard working person, but not so serious that I don't come across as friendly. That can be a balancing act which, if not handled correctly, can make me seem a little... unbalanced:

Tina continues to improve her 5k running time when she's not enjoying a good glass of wine and a better slice of cheesecake.

Even if it's basically true, when you see it all together at once, you can't help but picture a Tipsy Tina tripping over her running shoes, her carb craving motivating her to the the finish line, where the donuts are waiting.

So for now, the basic bio goes like this:

Tina Haapala writes personal essays, short stories, and parts of unfinished novels. She manages these words between yoga or belly dance classes,substitute teaching, and anything else that life throws between her and the computer. Tina lives in Wichita Falls,in the part of the world they call Texoma.