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What the Miracle Maker is all about

I would love to say that my career as a writer has been so successful that I no longer do anything else, but that is simply not reality yet. So I work as a “server” which is supposed to be a glorified term for a waitress. I grew up in a family restaurant, so this is my fall back job. Anyway, as you can imagine, it isn’t always a job that I take pride in. I bring people food for crying out loud. The other day though, I had a family sit in my section that changed my whole perspective. The funny thing about it is that what I learned is exactly the message of my book. Let me explain.

I was having one of those day where I just felt insignificant, not to mention grumpy, negative, and downright depressed. My first table came in and was a group of  six people. They had a lot of questions about the menu and I was able to steer them toward things that they really enjoyed and really made their experience better. The thing that made me really think about my book was the fact that one of the ladies really praised me. She told me how much she appreciated my knowledge and willingness to make their get together better. She said it several times and I really felt like I had contributed to their having a good experience and enjoyable evening. It really made me happy. I suddenly saw that although I wasn’t curing cancer I could still touch lives and make someone’s day better.

Kindness is contagious. It doesn’t matter what you do for a living you can always make someone’s day a little better. This group of strangers and I got to talking and it came around that I was a writer, and that I had a children’s book coming out. I told them about it, and they were very excited for me. We talked about a few other things for a while. They ask about my family and we talked about how I home school my kids, and help with my husbands business, they were so encouraging and seemed genuinely impressed with my ability to balance so many things. If made me see all the things I contribute even if I don’t have a really impressive job. They turned my whole night around.  It hit me about two minutes after they walked out that I was happier and more content with my day, my job, everything. That’s when I saw the miracle that kindness can work first hand. The Miracle Maker has always been a project that is very personal, but now I am so proud to have created something with a message that truly can change lives. It’s ironic that someone had to show me the reality of the message. I am so grateful for that family and in their honor I am challenging anyone who reads this to go out and spread kindness and see what miracles they can work.

 

The Day I STOP Putting My Cart Back

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This is it. This is the day, that I, as a consumer am taking back some of my rights. I have had a number of bad retail experiences( two just this week) and I realize that I am a powerless peon. One of the faceless masses who will never have any clout with retailers, but I am no longer going to play nice.

For those of you who don’t know me personally, I should tell you that I am the “good girl” – you know the one who never gets in trouble. I try to be kind and helpful and always make life easier for others. This is doubly true in retail situations.

I have worked with the public, in mostly blue collar jobs, since I was fourteen. I know it isn’t easy. I know people work hard, so I try to make it as easy as possible. I ALWAYS put my cart back at the grocery store(Even in the torrential downpours we often get here in Washington) I ALWAYS take my trash to the garbage at fast food places, I ALWAYS put things back in the correct place if I change my mind about an item mid-shop(even if it means going back to the other side of the store. I don’t tell you this because I want to brag. I tell you this so you can understand the level of frustration that has led me to my current decision.

Today, at Rite Aid, I bought a gallon of milk and a bottle of ketchup. I just made fantastic homemade corn dogs (remind me to share the recipe on a later blog- easy and delicious) and realized I couldn’t partake without ketchup. Anyway, I gave the clerk a ten. I know it was a ten because it is the only bill I had with me. My daughter also saw that it was a ten because at first I sent her in for the ketchup, and then I needed milk too, so I went after her. Short story long, I know without a shadow of a doubt it was a ten.  The total comes to $5.34. So, I give the cashier the ten and tell her I have the thirty-five cents for the change. I guess this terrible bit of math was too much for her, because she never gave me change. Which I figured out as soon as I got to my car. I went back into the store and told her she forgot my change, and this, dear reader is the real catch. She says to me. I thought I needed to give you a five. I had one out, but I saw that I typed five dollars instead of ten so I put it back. (May I submit this evidence to the court!)

She was very nice, but then her supervisor had to come over and they had to count out the till. Then they go in the back room for like fifteen minutes. The supervisor comes back and says, ” Sorry till is okay.” Great, but what about my five. Oh, there’s nothing they can do about that except charge me ten dollars for ketchup. So even though I know that it is wrong and the clerk knows it is wrong, and has admitted such, the numbers match so I’m out money. Nice. If the clerk hadn’t said she remembered the same thing, I would at least understand, but come one this is craziness. I was really fired up now. Probably because my wonderful corn dogs were getting cold. So I said,  ” Since this is all dependent on the count of the till, I assume that her till must come out every day 100% correct. Right?” No comment. Just guilty looks. Now I know this is just an accident, but two days ago I was in AM/PM. I bought a Starcraft cup so I could get my caffeine fix and my kids like the cup. They lady starts to charge me for a refill, but I’m the”good girl” so I correct her and pay full price. I come back yesterday and there is a huge line so I just go over and fill my cup. When I finally get to the checkout and say it’s a refill the lady( same one as yesterday) yells at me LOUDLY about not coming up to show her first.

“We sell that cup here,” she says indignantly.

“I know, I bought it from you yesterday, “I fire back. “There was no sign. This is my first refill here.” I stammer.

She continues to berate me for my refill misdeed. Mind you this is all for about 70 cents. So I finally escape from that fiasco, and now, today, I’m getting smeared at Rite Aid. The thing that makes me the maddest is that there isn’t a darn thing I can do about it. Well maybe egg the stores in the middle of the night so they have to pay an employee to clean it up.Or maybe I’ll just go put a hard boiled egg on one of their shelves so in about six weeks there will be this horrible smell no one can figure out.  But since I have been the”good girl” so long, I know I’ll never go through with it.

Instead I  have decided to create a new me. No taking my tray back, I’ll put crap I don’t want where ever I like, and my cart will free range in the parking lot. Then when I get terrible customer service I can just smile and say to myself. I deserved that one, and at least feel a little bit of justice.

Why movies inspire great writing

One of my favorite things in the world is going to the movies. I know it’s crazy expensive, but for me, it’s about the experience. Nothing makes me want to write, or gets my brain in better creative mode than a good movie and thirty gallons or so of movie theater popcorn. ( An absolute must for me.) Think about it, you have some previews that get you in the right frame of mind, then the lights dim, and suddenly your in whatever world the director has placed you in. No long boring intro, or character descriptions, just wham– story.

As a writer there are some good lessons there. When to start a story is hard. When I watch a good movie it is so clear to me how to start things, jumping right into the action instead of drawing it out with details that the reader needs. Those can always come later. Hook me like the first five minutes of a movie and you’ve got a great start to your story. So my best advice for new writers who are unsure where there story really begins– head to the movies and don’t forget the popcorn.

Wahoo!

What is a wahoo you ask? I believe Webster would define it as a bellowing noise made by a person in great excitement. For me it was the exclamation when I got notice that my number one agent pick reviewed my writing sample and asked for a full manuscript.

WAHOO! See it just works. I finished edits and am sending out beta copies as we speak. With any luck, NO ONE TAKES AN INVISIBLE GIRL TO THE PROM is one step closer to your book shelves.

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Robbed

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Today, as we ran toward the car, ready for another day of school, work, and general craziness, we were stopped short. All the door of our vehicles were hanging open. This is very unusual here in rainy Washington state. My first thought was that the kids were really going to be in trouble if they let my battery die. After a second though, I realized that we had actually been robbed. Well, now I say robbed and then that’s not exactly accurate. They didn’t take anything. The would-be-thieves rummaged through every nook and cranny spilling out it’s contents all over the seats. The left check books, stereos, tapes, and other valuables. They did haul one sweatshirt down the block before leaving it, but other than that they really just cleaned the car for us.

We actually found a wallet that had been missing for months. Never had any money in it, so if they stole something out of it, it was probably only about sixty cents.  It kind of reminded me of when my parents built a new house the summer I graduated from high school and I, being the youngest, moved into my grandparents house with them until I would go off for college in the fall. My grandmother was a total neat freak. She thought the room was filthy if more than the bed touched the floor, including throw rugs.  She always thought that my room wasn’t clean enough, so she would pile everything onto my bed to be put away. She did not like a particular basket of trinkets I kept on my dresser and it ended up all over my pillow time and time again.

Today reminded me of her cleaning sprees. I wish I could thank my intruders for doing such a thorough job of sorting through things. I am not sure if I should be glad they didn’t steal anything, or insulted that our stuff wasn’t good enough. There is a certain freedom though, in owning the kind of crap that no one else wants.

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Let me introduce myself.

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Since I am new to the blogoshpere I thought I would take a minute to tell you about why I started this blog. I am soon-to-be published author. Hopefully, you are so delighted with my book, that you came here to seek the inspiration behind it. Realistically, if you just clicked the wrong button and ended up here, then this is an author blog. I will be putting out info on my projects as they, cross you fingers, move foreword. Thanks for checking out my website.

Writing is hard work

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Many people I talk to think that writing is a talent. Bestowed to the few and lucky in a virtuous act at birth, or as a reward for some act of random kindness, like saving puppies or nuns from a burning building. Okay, so most people don’t actually think that last part. My point is, that writing is not a talent, although some natural talent usually starts the whole process. Writing is work.

Real, actual, difficult work. If all it took to write a book was a good idea then the shelves would be flooded with beautiful novels. What it takes to write a book is work. The idea is the easy part. The part you love, that you enjoy hatching in your brain for weeks, meeting characters and remarking in how clever you are. Then comes plotting, where you realize you need an actual story line with a beginning, middle, and ending that actually make sense all together. Finally, You come to the hardest part of writing. Sitting down and actually coming up with words on the page.

The difference between someone who always wanted to write a book, and someone who actually does it is just fifteen minutes. The first fifteen minutes you sit down and actually start to type followed by days, weeks, months, and yes, even years of sticking to it and putting more and more fifteen minute sessions in. After all that work you will have a full and complete first draft. Throw it in a drawer for a few months and reintroduce yourself to your friends and family. Then you get to start the editing process.

A little about me.

Since we are just meeting, I thought it would be good to tell you a few things about myself.

This is my family. This is how they look for Christmas cards.

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This is what happens the rest of the time.

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A whole new world.

Thanks for looking at my blog dedicated to writing, laughter, and the insane things that go on in our lives. We can either giggle or get therapy.