In Which I Learn a Writing Lesson from Star Wars Legos

I'm a tidal-wave writer*.

My son is a tidal-wave Lego builder.

In other words, we work feverishly on a project until we're done and it's hard to get us to think about anything else while the project is in motion.

I've seen the similarities the last few days watching my son react to the five boxes of Legos he received as birthday presents. He's been manic. Absolutely manic. Every waking moment he's not at school, he's hunched over his Lego sets, building, building.

He gets crabby. I remember last year after his birthday we actually had to remove the Legos and hide them for awhile (until he forgot about them) because he was impossible to live with. He was so focused, not being able to find a piece among the rubble spread out on the floor was a knife to his heart. Tears, screaming, accusations: "Everybody always loses my Legos!"

I've noticed improvements this year. He's maturing. Still, he gets crabby occasionally. Partly because he's tired. He's up at the crack of dawn so he'll have time to work on Legos before school. *sigh*

The problem is, I know where he gets this manic-bent from. When it comes to writing, I'm focused, too. I push through exhaustion just to stay up that extra half an hour to finish writing a chapter. The manuscript is often on my mind, even when I'm not physically sitting at the computer.

And crabbiness? That's something I really have to watch, because it's an easy trap to fall into. Say, if my writing time is interrupted (heaven forbid!), or I can't meet my goals for the day. I've seen this pattern in myself. It's good to be vigilant against it. Thankfully, seeing the pattern is a step in the right direction to correcting it. I'm trying to be better about pacing myself, living other parts of life to the fullest, enjoying my family and other non-writing activities. Still, it takes concentrated effort to pull myself away from THE BOOK.

You may or may not have noticed, I haven't written a Story-A-Week in awhile. I'm blaming it on the fact that I'm a tidal-wave writer, because while rewriting/retyping this story, my brain doesn't have the capacity to think of other stories. It's been my stumbling block all year with this particular challenge.

But there is an end in sight. I'm over 50,000-words into my rewrite (rewrite number three, baby! Third time's the charm? ... probably not), which means I'm almost at the finish (for this round).

I already have a wonderful beta-reader prepped and ready to look at it. And once that baby's sent off, I have some breathing space. Which means I'm focusing on a critique for another lovely writing buddy AND writing short stories so I stay up on my writing game.

That's the plan.

So, I want to know ... how are you as a writer (if you are a writer)? Do you remain balanced at all times, or is it a struggle? If you're not a writer, what's your personality with other big projects?

*I first heard the phrase "tidal-wave writer" from Julie. I love it, Julie! I've thought of myself that way ever since!

Happy Birthday, Gabe!

This is my son...

...after losing his first tooth. (Lost it while he was still six. He was very happy about that. He's a late-tooth-loser like the Dashingly Handsome Sidekick.)

 This is my son...

...on his seventh birthday with his crazy pirate (cupcake) cake.

 (Now you can see why I don't illustrate picture books. I'm big on ideas, short on talent. In case you can't tell, it's a pirate map. *blush* But, before you judge too harshly -- look how happy the boy is!)

This is my son...

...as the crazy blind present-treasure-hunting pirate about to scour the living room for his loot.

 And here are...

...all the scurvy pirates who attended the party (read: cousins).

Now, Argggh!

Be off with you.

Back 2 School

Dang it. Back to school already.

Olivia did not want to wake up. Honey, I feel your pain.

Gabe was super excited. Olivia, although awake and dressed, was still a little nervous. Totally understandable since she was the one heading off to a brand new school. Gabe gets the same school and the same (awesome) teacher as last year. Olivia had an amazing teacher last year and has a new & incredible teacher this year. I know she'll have a great year. Still, butterflies are perfectly understandable. 

Yay! Finally a smile. Madame, your minivan awaits.

And the Gabester, desperate to have the ornamental potted grass as a backdrop, still excited for school. He even tied his own shoes. Let's hope the excitement continues the whole year ... or at least through the first week.

How are the rest of you holding up? If you're a parent with school-aged, school-attending children, I'm curious ... Are you the type who can't wait to get the kids out the door and back to school, or are you sad to see them go? By the way, there is no wrong answer!

** And don't forget to enter my contest to win a BOOK. Click here.  Don't delay! Contest closes next Sunday, Sept 5 at Midnight Pacific Time. **

WIP Wednesday: Um, It's Research?

I've been rewriting my V-Day query so the book doesn't sound so much like a thriller. It's not a thriller. It's a contemporary novel with a high-stakes ending. It's important for me to get this right in the query because it affects agents' expectations. If they start reading the novel thinking the whole plot revolves around a girl running away from a mad gunman, they're going to be disappointed.

As I was rewriting, I wrote a sentence something like: "Her drug addict brother who listens to depressive metal all night and her depressed mother who hoards magazines...." You editor types out there will see right away why this doesn't work. You can't use "depressive" and "depressed" so close together without interrupting the flow. And I couldn't think of another adjective to describe her mother other than depressed.

So, I started looking for another word to describe the kind of music her brother listens to.

When I was researching V-Day, I spent an evening listening to different kinds of metal. And to be honest, it absolutely freaked me out. The written descriptions in Wikipedia didn't help much. I had my protagonist's brother listening to doom metal, because that sounded so, you know, scary. But then I actually listened to doom metal and it turned out to be way too upbeat for him. It was old stuff like Black Sabbath. Too mainstream. I finally found what I was looking for: depressive metal. Think funeral dirge with lots of screaming in the background. Horrible, sick stuff. It gave me the creeps and I could tell from my husband's body language that he *hated* me listening to it.

Back to the query. Replacing "depressive" with "funeral" sounded to me like a possibility, but when I put it in the search engine, I came up with another wordy description and couldn't figure out if it would fit my character. So, I listened to a snippet and realized, no, funeral wasn't going to work. Too shiny and happy.

I think I looked up death metal next. I don't remember if that's exactly what I typed in and I'm not going to retrace my Google steps to find it, believe me. My search pulled up a pop up so that I could listen to a sampling. I pushed play and at that very moment everything in the house went crazy. The phone started ringing, but it wasn't where it should have been; the baby started crying somewhere in the house; my husband was nowhere in sight and as I looked frantically for a "stop" button on the pop up, I couldn't find one. Thankfully it was still buffering so I ran back into my bedroom to grab the other phone.

By the time I got back to the kitchen maybe a minute later, my son was hovering over the computer while music that sounded like someone was being thrown into the pit of hell was blasting from my laptop. My husband burst out of the office, yelling, "What are you listening to?"

I have rarely felt so ashamed. I finally found a way to stop the thing and made a solemn promise that I would never research metal again. My characters are going to have to come up with other types of music to enjoy. Sorry, Sebastian.

My protagonist's brother will be listening to funeral metal in my query and depressive metal in my manuscript, and everyone will just have to be okay with that. *grin*

Rockin' Out

I went to a concert last night. It's been a long time since I've been to a concert, especially one this totally rockin'.

This particular band is new on the music scene, but I think they have a ton of potential. Watch the clip below and see if you agree with me.

The lead singer kind of has a U2 charisma that, in my opinion, could easily rival Bono. I was really impressed with the guitarist's instrument, fashioned out of Kinex. His bum-wiggle sort of reminded me of Slash, without the long curly hair, of course, or the cigarette. And the drummer's drum set is very state-of-the-art. Totally unique, cutting edge stuff here. Talent oozing out everywhere.

There's still some division in the group about what their name should be. One member, who shall remain unnamed, said it should be called "Olivia's *something* Trio" -- I guess because she hasn't thought of what that middle word should be. Another member, also anonymous, thinks the name should be "Anna's studio." The third member doesn't seem to have an opinion.

I'll keep you posted on this band's development. They're working on some new songs. One I heard this morning went something like this:

Sister love is a very good thing. Sister love. Sister love is a very good thing. Sister love.

Another song (more like a rap, actually), goes like this:

I want a Wii, I want a PSP, I want a XBox 360. Huh!

And on that note, I'll leave you.

I Ask Myself....

...why do I spend money on toys for my children when packing bubbles entertain them just as well?

He's Six

What craziness possessed me to schedule our furniture delivery on my son's sixth birthday?

Needless to say it was an exhausting morning. I ran between our new house (still laying floors, by the way; the cabinets are sitting in boxes in the kitchen; and even though our renovations aren't going as quickly as we had planned, it's all coming together beautifully) and Aaron's parents' house (where we are still living) where I baked, sliced, and decorated for Gabe's birthday party.
Here he is -- the birthday boy -- blowing out the candles on his mountain/volcano cake. I'm not a great cake decorator. I don't have the necessary attention for detail ... or the patience. Gabe told me he wanted a chocolate cake with blue and green frosting. I made a chocolate pudding fudge cake and a bunch of blue and green buttercream frosting. After spending a few minutes slapping frosting on the cake, I realized it looked sort of like a snow encrusted mountain with lots of landslides. I added a few green tree-shaped sprinkles and white crystal sprinkles. Since I made it in a bundt pan, I made a volcano with red sprinkles out of the hole in the middle. It actually turned out pretty cool. (The picture doesn't do it justice, of course.)

Most importantly, Gabe loved it.

And it tasted pretty good too.

Here's my brand new six year old with his cousin, Josiah.

And here are three generations of Sonnichsen men: "Papa" Ben, my fabulous husband Aaron, and my sweet little big boy, Gabe.
Gabe received many cool toys, but he spent all afternoon after his party making his Lego Star Wars X-wing fighter with his daddy. Here he is wearing his new Star Wars Lego pajamas and holding the completed X-wing fighter. That's one happy boy.

I'm incredibly thankful for Gabe. This may sound trite, but I couldn't ask for a more wonderful son. He's sweet, thoughtful, affectionate, not to mention incredibly intelligent, absurdly handsome, irresistibly cuddly, and boundlessly energetic. What more could a mom want?

It's hard to believe that it's been six years since he lay in my arms at the hospital in Beijing. We slept curled up next to each other that first night. I couldn't bare to put him in his bassinet. I remember how aware he was of me, how he snuggled up close and adjusted his breathing to mine -- or did I adjust my breathing to his? I remember how I couldn't go to sleep because I was so busy staring at him.

And sometimes I still find myself staring and holding him and not wanting to let him go. He still runs up to me and wraps his arms around me. He tells me he loves me. He smacks me with kisses. Sometimes slobbery ones.

Though he's getting taller and running faster and reading books all by himself, he's still a little boy.

Thank goodness.

Happy Birthday sweet Gabe!

Firsts: The Pumpkin Patch

(Anna's overly-sensitive sniffer was greatly offended by the smells at the pumpkin patch. She spent most of her visit plugging her nose -- even through the hay maze.)

A couple weeks ago, Anna, Sophie and I went to the pumpkin patch with Gabe's kindergarten class. Confession: I'd never been to a pumpkin patch before.

I'd never taken a hay ride.

I'd never wandered through a corn maze.

Don't feel sorry for me. That's just part of the trade-off of growing up overseas. Instead of going to the pumpkin patch as a kid, I celebrated Octobers by burning my fingers on candle wax and cavorting in the light of the full-moon carrying a fancy paper lantern during Mid-Autumn Festival.

I was not deprived.

Still, I was excited about our first trip to the pumpkin patch.

Here's Gabe's kindergarten class. (Gabe's the kid in the blue hat, front row.) Miss Skyles is his teacher. Hint: She's the grown-up in the picture.

Here's Gabe roasting a marshmallow -- and Anna wishing she were in kindergarten so she could roast a marshmallow. "Don't worry, honey. Your time will come ... soon enough."

And below are the kids on the hay slides.

Anna

Gabe
Sophie
And of course you can't leave the pumpkin patch without a pumpkin. Here's Anna with hers: "It's just my size!"

Pop! Goes the Baptism Bead

Today after Sunday School I was walking toward the nursery when someone said, "Did you hear that Gabe got a bead stuck up his nose?"

Aaron and I made a bee-line for the junior church room.

"Gabe, do you have a bead in your nose?" I asked.

Gabe was calmly playing with toys.

"Yes," he said.

"How did it get there? Did you stick it up there?"

"No. It got up there by accident," he said.

Okay. I have no idea how a bead gets up someone's nose by accident. But when you're five, a lot of things happen by accident.

We got Gabe home as quickly as we could so that Dr. Grandpa could try to get the bead out. It was stuck up there way too far, though. We spent a tense 10 minutes with Gabe on the sofa holding him down while Grandpa stuck this long stick-like plastic probe thing into his nose. Gabe screamed and screamed and screamed.

All the screaming and crying just made it harder to get the bead out. So Aaron ended up having to take him to the emergency room.

The emergency room doctor asked Aaron to first of all plug Gabe's left nostril with his finger and blow hard into Gabe's mouth.

Good idea. Too bad it didn't work.

Next he stuck a catheter into Gabe's nose with a vacuum extractor attached to it.

Another great idea. But that still didn't work.

Next he stuck another catheter up into his nose with a balloon on the other end. I guess it was also designed to suck small objects out from small children's noses.

Unfortunately, that didn't work either.

Finally he applied some topical anesthetic and probed the nostril with another long stick-like device. I didn't really want to hear about how far he had to stick that thing up into Gabe's nose, but I guess he had to be pretty aggressive with it to get it behind the bead. Blagggh!

But, gross factor aside....

Pop! Out came the bead. A large blue bead -- the kind you use to make salvation-explanation bracelets. The blue in the bracelet usually symbolizes baptism.

In Gabe's case, it was a baptism into the I-know-better-than-to-stick-things-up-my-nose club.

I came out of this whole ordeal realizing that it could've been a lot worse. When you live with a physician, you hear some great comparison stories. And my in-laws were not remiss in telling me about the little boy who came to the doctor with bad breath. No one could figure out why he had bad breath, until they looked up his nose. There was a pea in there. A small, round, green pea. A small, round, green pea that had been there a very, very long time. So long, in fact, that it had actually sprouted in the damp recesses of this child's nose and was tangled into his sinuses.

I guess in comparison a bead's not so bad.

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.

Discovery in Three Parts

Before we left China, we read the story of Noah and the rainbow.

"Mom, are rainbows real?" Gabe asked.

"Yes, of course they're real," I said.

Gabe frowned. "Then why haven't I ever seen one?"

Last week, while playing in the sprinkler, Gabe saw his first rainbow. I watched his face break into a smile.

"Mom!" he yelled. "They are real!"

***

One day, back in China, Gabe and I were walking outside. Gabe ran to a nearby grassy enclosure and picked me a dandelion.

As he handed it to me, he said, "Mom, Carter thinks these are called dandelions."

I laughed. "They are called dandelions, Gabe."

"No, they're not," he said. "They're sunflowers."

"No, honey," I said. "Sunflowers are really huge and tall ... You'll see them this summer when we go to grandma and grandpa's in America. These little weeds are called dandelions."

Last night, sitting at the picnic table after dinner, Gabe saw his first sunflower peeking over the fence from the neighbor's yard. His eyes lit up.

So, that's a real sunflower.

***

When we were in China, Gabe liked to tell us one particular joke.

"What's a baby's favorite constellation?" he'd ask.

"What?"

"The big diaper," he'd say. "Get it? The big diaper, instead of the big dipper, the big diaper!"

While we were camping, Gabe got up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. As we were walking across the camp to get to the restrooms, I pointed up at the sky, crowded with stars.

"And that's the big dipper," I said.

Gabe tipped back his head. "That's the big dipper?"

"Yep, that's it."

"I've never seen the big dipper before. I just saw it in movies. I've never seen it in real life."

After we came back from the bathroom, I didn't feel hurried to get him back in bed. We sat in a chair with our chins tilted up, watching the sky.

And Gabe saw his first shooting star.

Good Day

Today's my 32nd birthday.

So far, it's a great day.

My kids drew pictures for me before they went to school.

I opened the birthday present from my mom and dad, which included three Cadbury Cream Eggs, all for me and only me. YUM!

Gabe sat on my lap this morning and cuddled with me. We sat for five minutes without talking and he didn't even wiggle. It was wonderful! Nourishment for a mommy's soul.

Aaron had planned a big surprise for me this last weekend. He was going to take me away for two nights in Beijing. Unfortunately, Gabe came down with mumps, so we had to scrap the plans. I feel so thankful, though, for my husband's sweet intentions. And to be truthful, I've been so tired lately, I think I like the idea of going better than actually going. Call me weird. I guess maybe deep down I'm a little bit of a homebody.

Yesterday it rained all day. The day before, a lady with a bullhorn was walking around our apartment complex announcing that a big storm was coming. Today was supposed to be the worst day; stores were planning to close, people were recommending that we stock up on food and vegetables. Yesterday our living room ceiling leaked all day. Plaster was falling down in big, sloppy chunks.

In true Y2K fashion, Saturday's bullhorn hype fizzled to nothing. Today it's gray outside, but not even raining. The temperature is perfect. So, in the spirit of birthday thankfulness, I can be happy for pleasant weather, too.

And thankful that my ceiling has stopped leaking. At least for now.

The Ins and Outs of Teeth

We've had a lot of tooth action around here lately.

As Olivia lost her first top tooth....

(Olivia's on the left, Anna on the right)

...Sophie got her first bottom tooth.

When Aaron felt her tooth coming through and told me about it, my first sensation was disbelief. Then sadness. Then despair. (Well, okay, that's melodramatic.) After all, Sophie's our last baby. Our last baby is getting her first tooth.

It's the beginning of the end.

Next thing I know, she'll be going off to college and I'll be standing there -- a thirty year old in a fifty-year-old's body saying, "What happened?"

Please join with me in whistling "Sunrise, Sunset" from Fiddler on the Roof. It doesn't matter where you are in the world. I think it's only appropriate.

Meanwhile, in other news from the Sonnichsen homestead: Gabe's expanded nose has now turned purple. I was also very embarrassed to hear that he's been picking out bloody boogers while on the schoolbus, eating them, and seriously grossing out the other passengers. I just hope he'll grow up to be a nice boy that people will want to be around. Sheesh!

Anna was pretty cute tonight. I made punch for my friend Janella's baby shower, but I had a lot of the frozen part left over. She was helping me "make" the leftover punch, ie. put the frozen part in a jug and pour Sprite over it. I put the frozen part in and she said, "Mommy, how do you punch it?"

"What?" I asked, confused.

"How do you punch it, Mommy?"

It took me a few moments to figure out what she was really asking.

Of course, I had to laugh.

So, here they are, five of my very favorite people. They're a fun group with whom to go through the ins and outs of life.

More Boy

Gabe this morning, when he saw himself in the mirror: "Mommy, I look weird!"

More of you to love, Gabe, more of you to love.

Boy of the Crooked Nose

Today while coming home from school, running up our concrete stairs, Gabe fell, smacking his nose onto the edge of a step.

He didn't break the fall with his hands, so his nose took the full impact.

After it stopped bleeding, I called a few friends to ask for advice. I'd always heard there wasn't much you could do for a broken nose, so I didn't really have a plan of action.

Because his nose actually looked crooked (the picture above really doesn't do it justice), my friend suggested I take him to the doctor.

Diagnosis: possible hairline fracture; swelling on one side of the nose makes it appear crooked; bone felt straight to the doctor; no x-ray needed. **relieved sigh**

So, Gabe continues to be the most accident-prone member of the Sonnichsen family. His list of injuries include: two head wounds (one from a swing, one from another set of stairs); a pierced lip (when he fell off a chair and his tooth went through his lip); and now a possibly broken nose. Anna follows in second place with a split upper lip from pulling a lamp down on herself. Olivia wins the award for least-likely-to-get-hurt; unless you're talking miniscule finger scrapes that require excessive bandaging and arm slings (but that's another story for another blog post).

Still no confirmed broken bones, so I guess we're not doing too badly....