Lately I've been checking my mail like a high school senior waiting for acceptance letters from colleges. You may think I'm crazy, but don't worry. It's all part of the master plan.
I'm going to be really fabulous author someday. New York Times bestseller. It's going to happen. (Isn't that the secret wish of every blogger?? Haha...oh well). Here's my issue: no one really likes me yet.
My first novel (The Elsie Files) was published in February of this year, but it was published by this tiny outfit in Oklahoma with almost no marketing contacts. I've sold a handful of copies and really haven't made much money at all. They offered to pick up my second book, but I really didn't want to go with them again. I want to play in the big leagues, so I have to actually start figuring out how to do that.
In looking for a home for my second novel, I spent countless hours querying literary agents and publishing houses. I have buckets of rejection letters. Two agents are currently reading my second book to see if they like it, so keep your fingers crossed for me. Nothing concrete has happened, so I started getting discouraged.
I noticed a lot of places that rejected me want a writer with more publishing credits. I don't have a third novel in mind at the moment, so I decided to start querying magazines. I figured I could write a few magazine articles, earn a bit of cash, and stock up on publishing credits before my next round of queries.
Well, it's not quite that easy (are you surprised?). I worked for days to craft another round of queries, these ones personalized for specific magazines. I pitched ideas while trying to sound smart and pithy at the same time. All I got for my trouble was more rejection letters and e-mails to add to my collection.
I had a lot of hope for this one specific magazine. I thought my idea for them was really good. I got their "this material just isn't right for us" letter in the mail today, and I sank into my couch, disappointed again. I texted Rex and said, "Aargh! Just got rejected from another magazine where I thought I might actually have a shot. This stinks. How many times should I get rejected before I give up?"
I went about my business for the day, and when I sat down to check my e-mail I had a message from Pat Stone, the editor of GreenPrints magazine. He said that the material I submitted was "funny" and "well-written," and that he would like to publish it. My check for $75 will be in the mail tomorrow.
WHOOOOOO HOOOOOOO!!! I very much needed a win. I called Rex to tell him the good news, and he said, "Well, I guess there's the answer to your question - how many times do you get rejected before you give up? Just one more."
That's so true. Rex has a way of being very profound at times. Just try one more time, every time. Eventually you might get something. I know $75 and an article in a gardening magazine isn't like I just got the cover story for Good Housekeeping or Time, but it's a start. Also, more importantly, it was just the motivation I needed to keep going.
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
Monday, August 26, 2013
That Time When God Spoke to Me Through a Subway Sub
The title of this post may be a bit misleading. I don't literally think that God spoke to me through a sub. It's not like a tomato was sitting a certain way and I thought, "Eureka! Life is figured out!" But I did have a profound experience at Subway today, and I think sometimes God works through little things to remind us of His truths.
Today was my first day of Professional Development at my new school. In laymen's terms, that means all of the teachers get together and sit through boring meetings for a week in preparation for students to start school next week. I am very nervous about this new school year - I'm going from teaching at a public school in Las Vegas last year to a SUPER conservative (aka can't even wear nail polish) Christian school in Kalamazoo this year. Last year's school had 1000 kids; this year's school has 60. I literally don't think I could find two schools more different if I tried.
Here's a fact you already know about me if you've known me for more than 10 minutes: I don't like change. I hate it. I figure when I'm happy, why change anything? I order the same thing at a restaurant every time. I married my first serious boyfriend. I've had more or less the same haircut for 15 years. I don't like change.
At lunch today, some teachers decided to go to Subway. My usual six-inch-turkey-on-Italian-herbs-and-cheese-with-lettuce-tomato-and-chipotle-mayo sounded pretty good to me. As I was standing in line, though, I got this crazy idea. What if I ordered something different? The thought popped into my head out of nowhere. I don't know where it came from. It actually kind of freaked me out. I've ordered the same sub literally hundreds of times, but what if today I tried something new? It was so weird and so unlike me. Actually, when I said "I think I'm going to try something new today," one of the teachers from my school said, "Man, who are you?? That's not the Christine I met two weeks ago!" Ha ha. That's how fast people learn I'm a creature of habit.
Anyway, I went drastically different on my lunch choice. I ordered buffalo chicken. The person asked what vegetables I wanted on it, and I freaked out. "I don't know!" I wailed. "I've never ordered this before!" The other teachers laughed at me, but it's okay. I really didn't know what to do.
When I finally made my choice (spinach, green pepper, tomato, onion, and ranch), I sat down nervously to try my new concoction. I took a tentative bite, and guess what?
It was good.
It was really good.
It was very possibly even better than what I usually order.
Suddenly I was struck with an understanding: sometimes change is okay. Sometimes it's even good. Sometimes it's even better than what you had before. Not always, but it's possible. To be completely honest, that's not even something I considered about my new school. I spent so much time missing my school in Vegas that I hadn't been able to get at all excited about my school here. But today I finally thought, "Maybe it won't be so bad. Maybe it will even be good. Perhaps - and I'm going out on a limb here - but maybe it will even be better than what I had before."
It's really pretty pathetic, but I can honestly say that that's the first time I thought that. It was just a reminder to me that God has plans for me and He promises never to leave us or forsake me. He's not hanging me out to dry - He's bringing me to whatever place He wants me next. Bottom line: it's all going to be okay.
And yes, I got that all from a Subway sub. A pretty good $4.51 investment if I do say so myself.
Today was my first day of Professional Development at my new school. In laymen's terms, that means all of the teachers get together and sit through boring meetings for a week in preparation for students to start school next week. I am very nervous about this new school year - I'm going from teaching at a public school in Las Vegas last year to a SUPER conservative (aka can't even wear nail polish) Christian school in Kalamazoo this year. Last year's school had 1000 kids; this year's school has 60. I literally don't think I could find two schools more different if I tried.
Here's a fact you already know about me if you've known me for more than 10 minutes: I don't like change. I hate it. I figure when I'm happy, why change anything? I order the same thing at a restaurant every time. I married my first serious boyfriend. I've had more or less the same haircut for 15 years. I don't like change.
At lunch today, some teachers decided to go to Subway. My usual six-inch-turkey-on-Italian-herbs-and-cheese-with-lettuce-tomato-and-chipotle-mayo sounded pretty good to me. As I was standing in line, though, I got this crazy idea. What if I ordered something different? The thought popped into my head out of nowhere. I don't know where it came from. It actually kind of freaked me out. I've ordered the same sub literally hundreds of times, but what if today I tried something new? It was so weird and so unlike me. Actually, when I said "I think I'm going to try something new today," one of the teachers from my school said, "Man, who are you?? That's not the Christine I met two weeks ago!" Ha ha. That's how fast people learn I'm a creature of habit.
Anyway, I went drastically different on my lunch choice. I ordered buffalo chicken. The person asked what vegetables I wanted on it, and I freaked out. "I don't know!" I wailed. "I've never ordered this before!" The other teachers laughed at me, but it's okay. I really didn't know what to do.
When I finally made my choice (spinach, green pepper, tomato, onion, and ranch), I sat down nervously to try my new concoction. I took a tentative bite, and guess what?
It was good.
It was really good.
It was very possibly even better than what I usually order.
Suddenly I was struck with an understanding: sometimes change is okay. Sometimes it's even good. Sometimes it's even better than what you had before. Not always, but it's possible. To be completely honest, that's not even something I considered about my new school. I spent so much time missing my school in Vegas that I hadn't been able to get at all excited about my school here. But today I finally thought, "Maybe it won't be so bad. Maybe it will even be good. Perhaps - and I'm going out on a limb here - but maybe it will even be better than what I had before."
It's really pretty pathetic, but I can honestly say that that's the first time I thought that. It was just a reminder to me that God has plans for me and He promises never to leave us or forsake me. He's not hanging me out to dry - He's bringing me to whatever place He wants me next. Bottom line: it's all going to be okay.
And yes, I got that all from a Subway sub. A pretty good $4.51 investment if I do say so myself.
Thursday, August 22, 2013
Bendy Pretzel
I decided to try a yoga class today at my new fitness center. I've been doing Zumba, which is always fun, but I wanted to switch it up. I took yoga in college and loved it, so I figured maybe it was something I could get back into.
I was the first one in class - I was even there before the teacher. Soon after I put my mat down, the teacher sauntered in. I'm not sure of her name, so we'll just call her Ms. Bendy Pretzel (or Ms. BP for short). Ms. BP was fairly small, about my age, and she had one half of her hair in dreadlocks and the other half was shaved off. Erm...interesting. I figured maybe she had reached a level of higher enlightenment than me, or perhaps the shaved half of her hair had been messing up her chi or something. Who knows. Clearly I'm not an advanced enough yogi to understand.
Anyway, I was really looking forward to a relaxing hour of aligning my chakras and stretching my muscles. Once the class started, though, I knew I was in trouble. This girl moved FAST, and she did really advanced stuff. She would say something like, "Okay I want you to hop to plank and pull up into a cobra, then push into downward dog and bring that up to warrior two." She'd say that all in one sentence, and while I was still trying to translate that in my head she would already be halfway through the sequence. It was nuts. After a few minutes I looked around nervously, thinking that everyone must be judging me for being so far behind. In reality, I was actually ahead of most of the people. When Ms. BP called out the next command, I paid attention to what people did. The grandma lady next to me just stood there looking helpless and scared, and the guy in front of me was just staring at BP's butt. Cool.
The thing is, this wasn't an advanced class or anything. It was just your run-of-the-mill yoga class. So why was BP being so nuts?! I knew I was done trying to keep up when we were all standing and she told us to put our leg straight up in the air and put our knee in our ear. Ummm...no one can do that (except, obviously, Ms. Bendy Pretzel). The only way my knee is ending up in my ear is if I am in some horrible crash/explosion and that's just the way my body parts land. I wanted to yell, "I'm sorry! I'm just a recreational yoga user! I don't know all of this hard core stuff you're doing!"
Literally no one could keep up with Bendy Pretzel. Not even close. Half the class just stood there with their eyes bugged out while BP did stuff that no human should be able to do. At one point she contorted her body into this weird knot and then held herself off the ground on only one hand. WHAT?!?! I was amazed and disgusted all at once.
That's not really a good way to teach a class. I'm not going to stand in front of my fifth graders and say, "Time for math. I'm going to go ahead and do some Calculus, so just try to keep up the best you can." I left feeling pretty sad and inadequate, which is dumb because I actually knew something about yoga going in. I'm no Bendy Pretzel, but I was hoping that I would have at least been able to relax a little and do some toning stretches. :-/ Instead I think I might have pulled something trying to get into a "wrapped scorpion" position. Who would ever want to wrap a scorpion in anything, is what I'd like to know. *sigh* I guess it's back to Zumba tomorrow.
I was the first one in class - I was even there before the teacher. Soon after I put my mat down, the teacher sauntered in. I'm not sure of her name, so we'll just call her Ms. Bendy Pretzel (or Ms. BP for short). Ms. BP was fairly small, about my age, and she had one half of her hair in dreadlocks and the other half was shaved off. Erm...interesting. I figured maybe she had reached a level of higher enlightenment than me, or perhaps the shaved half of her hair had been messing up her chi or something. Who knows. Clearly I'm not an advanced enough yogi to understand.
Anyway, I was really looking forward to a relaxing hour of aligning my chakras and stretching my muscles. Once the class started, though, I knew I was in trouble. This girl moved FAST, and she did really advanced stuff. She would say something like, "Okay I want you to hop to plank and pull up into a cobra, then push into downward dog and bring that up to warrior two." She'd say that all in one sentence, and while I was still trying to translate that in my head she would already be halfway through the sequence. It was nuts. After a few minutes I looked around nervously, thinking that everyone must be judging me for being so far behind. In reality, I was actually ahead of most of the people. When Ms. BP called out the next command, I paid attention to what people did. The grandma lady next to me just stood there looking helpless and scared, and the guy in front of me was just staring at BP's butt. Cool.
The thing is, this wasn't an advanced class or anything. It was just your run-of-the-mill yoga class. So why was BP being so nuts?! I knew I was done trying to keep up when we were all standing and she told us to put our leg straight up in the air and put our knee in our ear. Ummm...no one can do that (except, obviously, Ms. Bendy Pretzel). The only way my knee is ending up in my ear is if I am in some horrible crash/explosion and that's just the way my body parts land. I wanted to yell, "I'm sorry! I'm just a recreational yoga user! I don't know all of this hard core stuff you're doing!"
Literally no one could keep up with Bendy Pretzel. Not even close. Half the class just stood there with their eyes bugged out while BP did stuff that no human should be able to do. At one point she contorted her body into this weird knot and then held herself off the ground on only one hand. WHAT?!?! I was amazed and disgusted all at once.
That's not really a good way to teach a class. I'm not going to stand in front of my fifth graders and say, "Time for math. I'm going to go ahead and do some Calculus, so just try to keep up the best you can." I left feeling pretty sad and inadequate, which is dumb because I actually knew something about yoga going in. I'm no Bendy Pretzel, but I was hoping that I would have at least been able to relax a little and do some toning stretches. :-/ Instead I think I might have pulled something trying to get into a "wrapped scorpion" position. Who would ever want to wrap a scorpion in anything, is what I'd like to know. *sigh* I guess it's back to Zumba tomorrow.
Thursday, August 8, 2013
200th Post!
Happy 200th Post to me!
Since this is my 200th post on this blog, I figure I should write about something happy and fun. Luckily, I can definitely do that because last night had an abundance of both happiness and fun.
The first happy thing occurred while I was volunteering at Vacation Bible School (which, actually, that's fun in and of itself). I was on a break and hanging out in the kitchen when I got a phone call from one of last year's fifth grade students. Her mom had told me that she was going to call, but I guess I forgot because I was still pleasantly surprised. Do you know what she was calling about? Of course you don't, which is why I will tell you now: she wanted to tell me that she got a perfect score on her math CRT test. A perfect score. PERFECT. For those of you who aren't familiar with the CRT, it is the Nevada version of the Michigan MEAP. It's the standardized test that all students have to take at the end of the year. It's basically the elementary school ACT's, and she got a PERFECT SCORE. That does not happen very often. I couldn't find a statistic on exactly how often, but I know it's only a handful of kids per year in the entire state. One of my kids got a perfect score!
Want to know the best part? She said, "I wanted to call you as soon as I found out because I want to thank you for teaching me all of that stuff last year. I know I never could have gotten that score without a really, really great teacher, so it's kind of your score too. You're the best. I'm really thankful that you were my teacher."
Ummmmm...oh hey, did you ever wonder why I became a teacher? That's it right there.
As I was walking around outside talking to my student, I noticed that my storm door was being propped open by something (my house is right behind the church). I decided to go investigate, and in between my storm door and my front door was a large black and gold box. Do you know what comes in a black and gold box? In that box was what will henceforth be known as "The most beautiful flowers that have ever existed, ever." That brings us to our next happy and fun event of the evening: Rex sent me flowers! No one has ever sent me flowers before! Rex has bought flowers for me plenty of times, but he's always handed them to me himself. They've never been delivered. Delivery adds a whole new level of fancy - the shiny box, the beautiful paper, the embossed message card in its own black and gold envelope...you get the idea. I felt like some sort of celebrity.
I took the most beautiful flowers that have ever existed, ever, into my kitchen and put them in the beautiful vase that also came in the black and gold box. I wish you could come over and smell them right now - my whole kitchen smells good.
You might be thinking, "Wow, Christine had a pretty good night." You would be right. It didn't stop there, though. Just as I was thinking, "Man, I wish I could show off my new flowers..." my dad texted me and said that he wanted to come over and see my new house. My dad has been living in Boise for the past five months, and he just got back two days ago! Hooray! I know everyone thinks their dad is the best...but mine might actually be THE best. So he brought my mom over, we got pizza, and we watched a movie. I haven't gotten to spend time with him in five months, and he hung out until almost midnight. Whoo hoo!! What luck! Also, I got to show off my awesome flowers.
So basically, it was an awesome night. Definitely worthy of note in my 200th blog post. I wonder what kind of crazy fun things will happen for my 300th?
Since this is my 200th post on this blog, I figure I should write about something happy and fun. Luckily, I can definitely do that because last night had an abundance of both happiness and fun.
The first happy thing occurred while I was volunteering at Vacation Bible School (which, actually, that's fun in and of itself). I was on a break and hanging out in the kitchen when I got a phone call from one of last year's fifth grade students. Her mom had told me that she was going to call, but I guess I forgot because I was still pleasantly surprised. Do you know what she was calling about? Of course you don't, which is why I will tell you now: she wanted to tell me that she got a perfect score on her math CRT test. A perfect score. PERFECT. For those of you who aren't familiar with the CRT, it is the Nevada version of the Michigan MEAP. It's the standardized test that all students have to take at the end of the year. It's basically the elementary school ACT's, and she got a PERFECT SCORE. That does not happen very often. I couldn't find a statistic on exactly how often, but I know it's only a handful of kids per year in the entire state. One of my kids got a perfect score!
Want to know the best part? She said, "I wanted to call you as soon as I found out because I want to thank you for teaching me all of that stuff last year. I know I never could have gotten that score without a really, really great teacher, so it's kind of your score too. You're the best. I'm really thankful that you were my teacher."
Ummmmm...oh hey, did you ever wonder why I became a teacher? That's it right there.
As I was walking around outside talking to my student, I noticed that my storm door was being propped open by something (my house is right behind the church). I decided to go investigate, and in between my storm door and my front door was a large black and gold box. Do you know what comes in a black and gold box? In that box was what will henceforth be known as "The most beautiful flowers that have ever existed, ever." That brings us to our next happy and fun event of the evening: Rex sent me flowers! No one has ever sent me flowers before! Rex has bought flowers for me plenty of times, but he's always handed them to me himself. They've never been delivered. Delivery adds a whole new level of fancy - the shiny box, the beautiful paper, the embossed message card in its own black and gold envelope...you get the idea. I felt like some sort of celebrity.
I took the most beautiful flowers that have ever existed, ever, into my kitchen and put them in the beautiful vase that also came in the black and gold box. I wish you could come over and smell them right now - my whole kitchen smells good.
You might be thinking, "Wow, Christine had a pretty good night." You would be right. It didn't stop there, though. Just as I was thinking, "Man, I wish I could show off my new flowers..." my dad texted me and said that he wanted to come over and see my new house. My dad has been living in Boise for the past five months, and he just got back two days ago! Hooray! I know everyone thinks their dad is the best...but mine might actually be THE best. So he brought my mom over, we got pizza, and we watched a movie. I haven't gotten to spend time with him in five months, and he hung out until almost midnight. Whoo hoo!! What luck! Also, I got to show off my awesome flowers.
So basically, it was an awesome night. Definitely worthy of note in my 200th blog post. I wonder what kind of crazy fun things will happen for my 300th?
Monday, August 5, 2013
Pug Luv
If you know me well, you know that I really, really love pugs.
I don't understand why. I honestly don't. They have squished-in faces, they're short and squatty, and they have tons of health problems. I even just googled "Why I love pugs" to see if someone else had come up with something profound to say about why people are drawn to them. Unsurprisingly, my search yielded no hits. For a reason I do not entirely understand, I think pugs are the cutest.
Because pugs are the cutest, today was AWESOME. My friend Lauren invited me to go with her to a pug meetup in Kalamazoo. Of course I said yes even though I don't have a pug. Lauren said she would share hers. Lauren's pug is a small female named Missy, and I happen to think she's adorable. Then again, I think most pugs are adorable, so don't take my word for it. When we arrived, my eyes just about bugged out of my head (just like a pug's, haha). There were pugs everywhere!
I don't understand why. I honestly don't. They have squished-in faces, they're short and squatty, and they have tons of health problems. I even just googled "Why I love pugs" to see if someone else had come up with something profound to say about why people are drawn to them. Unsurprisingly, my search yielded no hits. For a reason I do not entirely understand, I think pugs are the cutest.
Because pugs are the cutest, today was AWESOME. My friend Lauren invited me to go with her to a pug meetup in Kalamazoo. Of course I said yes even though I don't have a pug. Lauren said she would share hers. Lauren's pug is a small female named Missy, and I happen to think she's adorable. Then again, I think most pugs are adorable, so don't take my word for it. When we arrived, my eyes just about bugged out of my head (just like a pug's, haha). There were pugs everywhere!
You know how when Jesus left earth He said that He was going to prepare a place for us? Well, I hope my place has a room that looks JUST like that. Maybe fewer people. Just me and all the puggies. That picture doesn't even show them all, as it was just one side of the room. I couldn't get them all into one picture. Suffice it to say that there was a very high concentration of cuteness. The people would sit down, and all of the pugs would run up to say hello. Unfortunately, Missy didn't like this one bit. Here was her face for pretty much the entire event:
Poor little thing! Doesn't that just break your heart? She hid behind her mom and didn't want to play with any of the other pugs.
I did feel badly for Missy, but I wasn't going to let it ruin my fun. I had an absolute blast playing with all the little flat faces. Just before it was time to go, the coordinator of the event said, "Okay, everyone grab your pugs! Time for a group picture!" If you've been reading carefully, you know that I do not have my own pug. Everyone was grabbing their pugs and I was going to look downright silly being the only person without one. Either that or Lauren and I were going to look like lesbian life partners sharing our one little pug baby. Luckily, some people had three or four pugs, so they couldn't hold them all. A couple pugs ended up just running around, so I grabbed this one and pretended she was mine.
Isn't she a cutie!? Her name's Ebony. That's actually her name - it was on her collar. I didn't make that up or anything. I'm not sure who she actually belonged to, but there were so many people and no one started yelling, "Where's my pug!?!?!?!" so I figured I was safe to hold her for the picture. I'm kind of excited for the coordinator to put the picture on the group's website, because someone's going to look at it and say, "Hey, I think that chick is holding my dog..." Ha ha! I kind of wanted to actually take her home, but I figured that was taking the charade a bit too far.
After the pug meetup, Lauren and I decided to go to McDonald's for chocolate dipped cones. Yum! We ate in the grass so that Missy could be with us. Lauren shared her ice cream with Missy, and she was a happy camper once she was the only pug around. Awww...
The next meetup is September 8. I hope she likes that one a little bit better. Missy had better start liking these things, because she's the only reason I get to go! Otherwise I'm going to have to steal a pug to take to the meetings, and that just seems like a bad decision.
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