WIP Wednesday: Novel Swapping

Any Day But (alternately titled V-Day) is out with one of my writing-buddies, Florence.

We've done a novel swap, so I'm reading her masterpiece, The Ward.

Florence is good. Really good. She's not only a phenomenal writer, but she gives an excellent critique. I'm worried that she isn't getting a good trade by novel-swapping with me because even though I love line-editing, I'm not too practiced at giving big, over-arching advice.

I'm wondering, of course, what she'll think of ADB, mostly because I've only done one edit of this book. With my last novel, it was well-polished by the time my writing pals got their hands on it. This one came to me more quickly, partly because I'd already learned so much from writing the other novel.

Plus, I've learned to plan. I actually wrote a plot plan for this novel and basically stuck to it, something I didn't do with Up Lantau Running. With that one I let the mood guide me -- sweep me away in some cases -- which meant a lot of rewriting and hideous amounts of chopping.

With ADB, I haven't chopped all that much. It was born, went through some minor revisions, and went out to Florence in a state similar to its newborn one. So, we'll see. I'm not sure if that's bad or not. It might desperately need to be chopped up and overhauled. Or it might just need to be fleshed out and deepened. Or maybe it's perfect.

*cough* Yeah, right. In my dreams.

One of my fears with not chopping it up is that I'm wondering if I really know these characters like I knew them in Up Lantau Running. I mean, I spent years with those people -- Lila (previously called Marcy) and the gang. I've only spent months with Thia and her odd assortment of friends, acquaintances, and family. Will they seem real to my readers, or will they remain only shallow acquaintances?

Maybe I should stop worrying so much about what Florence will think of my book, and worry about giving her my best shot at a critique of her book.

Yeah, that might be a good idea. Okay, back to reading....

How Strange

How strange
That as I write this post
All my children's friends in China
Are on the school bus for their first day of school
(And many of my friends too, come to think of it)

And we are still here
In full-fledged Prosser summer

Swimming in Grandma's pool
With the cousins,
Picking out flooring for our new house

And not packing up,
Cramming consumables into duffle bags,
Not loading airport-bound cars,
Not making last-minute trips to Costco
For one more 10-pound bag of chocolate chips,
Not kissing anyone goodbye, or saying
"See you next summer."

We're still here --
How strange.

Shelved

Sigh.

It's time to shelve Up Lantau Running; time to call it a "practice book."

This afternoon I saw an email sitting in my inbox from the agent who had requested the Up Lantau Running partial. My stomach plummeted to my feet.

I couldn't open it right away. I just couldn't. So, I pulled myself out of my seat, did a few mundane tasks, and came back to it when I'd had time to stop my heart hammering. I wanted to get myself mentally ready for rejection.

Before I opened it I spoke some truth to myself: "I'm at the beginning of all this. If it's a rejection, it's okay. I'm learning. I've learned a lot from writing this novel. It's okay."

And there it was when I clicked open the email ... the rejection:

Many thanks for sharing with me the opening chapters of your novel UP LANTAU RUNNING, which I am declining with my regrets. I think I just didn't connect with Lila in the way I would in order to represent a project. It's a difficult line to walk -- to make a character feel appropriately picked on and "other" enough to believe she would be such an outsider, without having her feel alienating to your readership. I'm afraid it just didn't work for me. Of course, this is only my opinion, and another agent may very well feel differently. Nonetheless, I appreciate your thinking of me, and wish you the best of luck in your search for representation.

And, strangely, I felt okay with that.

Maybe even relieved.

I can't really explain it except that maybe I knew in my heart that this particular book has some structural issues that no amount of plastering over (read: rewriting) is going to fix.

As much as I love the characters and the setting and, well, especially the characters, I have to let go. Move on.

It's time to throw myself into polishing my new novel and starting to query it.

And I have something new bubbling in my brain. I wrote the first page. I already have a title. It's called Back and it's about a teenage girl adjusting to life in American high school after five years in China.

Write what you know. Know what you write. Right?

And I keep reminding myself: God willing, I still have a lot more life to live.

God Bless America

I had a yay-for-America moment tonight.

I was making a last-minute lasagna, meaning it had to be done by 6p.m. This was when I knew my father-in-law would be coming through the door from work. I also knew he was heading right out again for a meeting, so dinner had to be on the table.

It was nearly 5:30 and I had to get that thing in the oven. I had the sauce ready, the ricotta sitting on the counter with the lid off. Then I remembered the cheese.

Darn, I still had to grate it.

I headed out to the refrigerator in the garage where I'd seen a block of mozzarella. When I slid open the drawer, lo and behold, there on top of the block of mozzarella was pre-shredded Italian cheese. Two packages of the stuff.

I headed back to the kitchen humming "God Bless America."

There's nothing like living in China for eight years to make you grateful for small things like pre-shredded cheese in zip lock packaging.


Side Note: On the ironic side of life, even though I got the lasagna in at 5:30-ish, the whole wheat pasta I'd used took longer to cook than the brand I used in China. So ... well ... the father-in-law had to eat salad and bread and head out to his meeting without lasagna. I guess he'll eat some when he gets home.

Sigh.

Oh well. I tried.

I Recommend: Dan in Real Life

Surprise! This is not a book review.

This is a movie review.

And I don't watch movies very often, so this may be the last movie review you see on my blog.

Dan in Real Life is great. I wasn't intending to watch it. I intended to spend my evening reading my writing pal's newest novel, but then the movie sort of sucked me in.

It's clean.

It's hilarious.

And I love the emotions the actors portray. You can just feel their pain. And you can laugh at it too, which is all the better.

Steve Carell, famous for his role in the American version of The Office, plays Dan, a widower, father of three daughters. He's a man who can give good advice, but has a hard time taking it.

What happens when a man like that falls in love, but loses the love-of-his-life to his younger brother?

And what happens when they all go on vacation together -- stuffed into a shingled vacation home on the coast? Mix in meddling parents, uber-observant teenage daughters with hormones and cell phones, and a whole bunch of other relatives who all have their own opinions, and you've got a situation ready to explode. In a good way.

When Dan's middle daughter yells at him, "You are a murderer of love!" because he sent her sneek-in boyfriend home, I almost peed my pants I was laughing so hard. I got a clear fast-forward picture of the melodrama that will be our lives when our daughters start turning into teenagers.

But what a great movie!

If you haven't already, watch it.

Provision 3

We're in the process of buying our first home.

All I can say is Wow.

Wow.

And now I'll try to elaborate on that.

There are Wows on various levels.

I've been following the Prosser housing market for about a year, ever since we were pretty sure we'd be moving back to America this year from China. I followed online through a real estate agent who sent free email updates.

And Wow, there are really not that many houses for sale in Prosser. Most of the places I was getting on my email updates were three bedroom houses or less, approximately 1500 square feet, which was not too much bigger than the apartment in which we lived in China.

There was nothing wrong with our apartment in China. We loved living there, which is why we stayed and didn't move for six years, even though we qualified for a bigger home.

But as we were thinking about BUYING a place, we wanted something our family could grow into. With Olivia going on eight years old, we wanted to make a good investment so we wouldn't have to move again in five years.

So, Wow, I wondered how we were going to find anything we wanted to buy in Prosser.

Enter Aaron's friend Marcus, who also happens to be a real estate agent.

He told us about a place up the hill from Aaron's parents house. The owners were considering selling, though they hadn't put the house on the market.

We went up there and looked at the house and ... Wow.

What a great house! Four bedrooms and a fifth room that could be another bedroom, but is now being used as an office; three bathrooms; a daylight basement....

And, wow, a gorgeous view of the valley.

It's on a quiet street. Check.

Has a nice, private, fenced backyard. Check.

Has enough space to grow into. Check.

And that view. Wow. That's a bonus.

And there's a gorgeous deck on which we can sit and enjoy the view. Wow. Another bonus.

Now, how can we afford all this Wow-ness, you may ask?

Well, the house does need a little TLC. As our friend Marcus says, "the bones" of the house are great, and if this house were "dialed in" it would be way over our price range. But as it is, with all the updates it needs, it actually falls into our price range.

Wow.

So, we made an offer last week and heard on Friday that our offer had been accepted with a closing date of October 31. So, if everything goes according to plan, we should be spending American Thanksgiving settled in our new house.

And that will definitely be something to be thankful for.

Wow.

Warm

No matter how old I get.

No matter how hot the day is.

I will always love the warm tingle of laundry fresh from the dryer against my skin.

Escape Slug

Slugs leave slime trails.

Everybody knows that. But leave it to a science teacher to come up with the idea of comparing slug slime to different man-made adhesives in a classroom science experiment.

And my husband, science teacher extraordinaire that he is, was quite excited about the possibility of doing this particular gross-factor experiment in his tenth grade biology class.

So, he was thrilled to find a three-inch-long slug on the backyard walkway the other day.

Aaron grabbed a jar and trapped the slug. He covered the jar with aluminum foil, poked some air-holes, and added a few pieces of lettuce.

Then he stuck the jar in Sophie's room (read: the room with Sophie's crib in it where we've stored most of the luggage we haven't cracked opened yet).

The next morning, I was sitting in the living room when Olivia rushed in.

"The slug escaped!" she yelled.

I was calm. "Oh, honey, I'm sure it's just sitting up on the lid."

"Yeah, maybe," Olivia said and departed.

Several moments later she came back. "I don't see it on the lid," she said.

"Oh, honey," I said. "I'm sure it's just kind of camouflaged up there. I'm sure it couldn't have gotten out."

But I dragged myself up and followed her into Sophie's room all the same.

Several seconds later ... "Aaron!"

"What?" He was up in the loft.

"Your slug is gone!"

"What!"

Sure enough, we both checked the jar. Absolutely empty. Except for a few pieces of half-chewed lettuce.

We looked helplessly around the room, littered in boxes and odds and ends.

One of the-other-Amy-Sonnichsen's old purses was lying on the floor. And that's where Aaron found the first slime trail, shiny against the black fabric.

We followed the slime trail across Grandpa's old hat. And that's where we lost it.

With no slug in sight.

I stopped laughing long enough to ask, "Are you going to tell your mom?"

Aaron didn't answer at first. He was too busy checking behind the boxes stacked against the wall. Then he said, "I don't know."

We didn't have too much time to look for the slug right then.

Aaron returned to the job in the afternoon. And I got to tell his mom the slug was loose in Sophie's room.

"Ohhhh!" she wailed, grabbing onto the kitchen counter for support.

I don't blame her. Slugs are nasty. You definitely don't want to wake up and find one on your face in the middle of the night.

I silently vowed that Sophie would not sleep in her crib until the slug was found.

Finally, Aaron got his big break. In a certain slant of light, he saw the slug trail climbing the white painted wall. He followed it onto a shelf where his mom stores her knitting supplies. Sliding out a plastic storage container, he found the slug clinging to the back.

Still alive. Just as slimy.

The slug is back in the jar now. But Aaron's not taking any chances this time. He actually attached the screw lid of the jar and poked tiny holes in it with a nail.

We checked on the slug the next day and it was stuck on the lid, probably cursing the fact that nail-holes in metal aren't as pliable as vents in aluminum foil.

In any case, our escape slug ain't goin' nowhere this time.

Angels

I decided to walk down to the grocery store this morning with Anna and Sophie in the baby jogger. But as I was getting ready to leave, I noticed the tire was flat.

My hero husband came to the rescue with some sort of foam in a bottle. He filled up the tire with the foam and we were ready to go.

It was hot. Eleven o'clock in the morning on a potentially hundred-and-four-degree day.

Halfway there I heard a funny sound.

When I looked down, I saw white foam squirting out of the sides of the tire. Behind us was a long white trail. I watched the wheel go flat, flat, and flatter, splattering white foam on the sidewalk.

We wobbled the rest of the way to the grocery store, but once there I figured I'd had enough of pushing a gimp baby jogger in the heat. I decided to call Aaron and ask him to come get me.

Too bad I didn't bring a cell phone.

At the store, I scraped together some change for a 25-cent phone call. I waited in line for the cashier to exchange my one dime, one nickel, and ten pennies for a quarter.

Then I headed with Sophie and Anna in a shopping cart to the outside pay phone.

Did anyone else know the payphone company is gouging customers by charging fifty cents a call these days? I sure didn't.

Upon realizing that I couldn't make a call with my solitary quarter, I dug into the zippered pouch of my wallet. Three patacas (from Macau) and a few ten cent Hong Kong coins, and four or five other pennies were all I had left. No other cash.

"Well, I guess we'll walk home with the flat tire," I told Anna.

I looked up to see a man approaching me, holding out a cell phone.

"I noticed you trying to make a call," he said. "Do you want to use my phone?"

Yes, there are such things as angels.

A Summer In Pictures

My crazy kids with their 2nd cousins, Alaythia and Isaiah.

Swing high, swing low, away we go!

Bathing beauties enjoying poolside popsicles:
cousins Grace, Anna, Olivia, & Abby

Gabe poolside

Aaron, Grandma Nai Nai, Great-Grandma Helen, & Sophie

Learning to plant seeds with Nai Nai

At Horsetail falls (on our 10th anniversary) where Aaron asked me to marry him almost eleven years ago.

On Dog Mountain
(some day I'll be embarrassed my glasses were that big)

Sophie's swimming attire

Anna navigating the Columbia with Uncle Garry

Fun in the new minivan (see Sophie's feet?)

Sophie's first time sitting in the grass;
she didn't mind.

I Am Not An Addict

I'm in the process of proving to myself that I am not a Dr. Pepper addict.

It struck me last weekend when we were camping how much Dr. Pepper I was drinking.

You probably know how it is. You're driving a long distance. You stop to eat at a fast food restaurant where the combo-meal fountain drinks are the size of a small child's swimming pool.

And then you get a refill, too.

At the campsite, I was heading over to the cooler three times a day and pulling a can of Dr. Pepper out of the ice. I was on a buzz the whole time we were camping.

When we got home, I felt bloated and sugar-coated.

"I'm going to fast from pop for a week," I announced. My sister-in-law, the other Amy Sonnichsen, offered to join me in my restraint.

It has not been easy. Afternoon comes, the kids go down for their rests or naps, and I get an overwhelming urge to drink Dr. Pepper. Without it, I'm dragging. I'm lying on the sofa watching rodeo* on TV because I don't have energy to do anything else.

Pathetic.

Tomorrow marks the end of my fast and I have the cans of Dr. Pepper in the refrigerator so that they'll be cold when I allow myself to indulge.

I'm not a Dr. Pepper addict, am I?

I'll let you decide.



*Yeah, that's right. Rodeo. Man vs. Bull. Bulls with names like "Whip Lash," "Gnash," and "Satan," up against men with first names like "Billy Joe" and "Jimmy Bob." I think I watch it because it's a completely different culture and I find that interesting.