Love & Life & Embracing Differences

Over the past few years, I've started a lot of my blog posts (and Facebook status updates ... and updates on basically every social media platform) with apologies for my long, unexplained absences.

I always have a solid explanation for why I've been missing in action.

Life has been busy ...

I've been sick ...

I didn't have access to the internet ...

Things were just a crazy, mixed-up muddle of a mess ...

While these excuses have been 100% true, they don't tell the full story. And I feel like I need to tell the whole story. I've started this blog post dozens of times over the past couple of years, and I've never finished. But I promised myself that I would do it this time, so I've been sitting at my desk for nearly 36 hours, typing and deleting and typing things over again, until I can get it right ...

You know about my brain tumor. You may have even read the long, multi-part story about it. And all of the follow-up stories about how dealing with a brain tumor can be difficult & scary sometimes.Yet I know how scary the phrase "brain tumor" can be, and I don't want to worry people that I care about, so I've adopted a habit of downplaying things maybe a bit more than I should.

But I'm tired. And I'm scared. And this is a super-heavy burden to carry on my own, so I'm just going to lay it all out right here and hope that the load won't be quite so heavy when I have to pick it up again ...

Here are the things you need to know about me:

1. Because my brain tumor is in the brain stem, it literally messes with every single signal that travels from my brain to the rest of my body. Every single one. So if my elbow hurts, the injury is almost never actually on my elbow. And I have to go over my entire body to find the bruised shin or stubbed toe that's causing my elbow to hurt. And even the smallest emotional stress translates into super-intense physical pain.

2. Remember when you were really little and your mom told you "Don't make faces, or your face might freeze that way!" and you laughed at the silliness of the sentiment? ... Yeah, I have to be very careful about how wide I open my mouth when I yawn or something. Because, yep. My face might freeze that way. (I've totally stopped eating grapes, because if I accidentally eat a sour grape and my mouth puckers involuntarily, it might stay that way for an hour or two. And it hurts. A lot.)

3. Because my brain has to constantly adjust to the chaos of mixed/misinterpreted signals, it auto-corrects just about EVERYTHING. This can be a good thing. For example, I've never experienced jet lag, because as soon as I look at a clock in the new time zone, my brain adjusts to the new time. But it can also be a weird thing. For example, I have a really hard time hearing accents, though my family swears I pick up every accent I hear. (The kids love to entertain their friends by talking to me in different accents to show how my replies will match whatever accent they're adopting - including totally made-up accents.)

4. Optimism isn't optional for me. My brain doesn't know how to process fighting or negativity. I feel every harsh word as an intense, physical pain. Like hot skewers rammed through my body kind of pain. And if I get around people who are fighting, complaining, or yelling, my body literally shuts down. As in collapsed on the floor, still fully conscious but unable to move, speak, or even breathe properly. (When my kids were toddlers, they totally took advantage of this fact, because they realized that, if mommy told them "no," and they wanted to do it anyway, they just had to scream until mommy was paralyzed on the floor and couldn't stop them from doing it.) And it doesn't matter if people are fighting or yelling at me. Any fighting that happens where I can witness it is enough to literally paralyze me.


5. I'm totally not kidding about the brain auto-correcting thing. A few months ago, at my middle daughter's choir concert, I suddenly had a brilliant epiphany that could potentially solve all of the world's problems: "You know how, when everyone wears the same uniform, all of their physical characteristics blend together and you can't tell the difference between height, skin tone, or body shape anymore? We could all just wear uniforms every day!!" My oldest daughter and my husband laughed for about a week at that one. "That's not a real thing!" ... Which is how I discovered, at almost 40 years old, that my insistence that we could fix the world if we'd just stop looking for reasons to divide ourselves was truly insensitive and hurtful to those facing attacks on a daily basis. And my heart is absolutely breaking over this realization. (p.s. Now that I've realized I have this processing issue that totally isn't a normal way to view the world, I feel like I need to apologize to any that I might have inadvertently offended. If I ever made you feel like I wasn't taking your struggles seriously enough ... If my genuine inability to see the divisions our society faces has caused you pain ... I apologize from the bottom of my heart. I've learned that I need to more frequently check my perceptions against what's "normal," and hopefully I'm getting better. But if I've hurt you, please don't hesitate to say something to me!)


Over the past too-many-months, I have witnessed attacks against people who are Muslim, Black, Hispanic, Jewish, Women, Transgender, Mormon, LGBT, Refugees, Disabled, Athletes, Native American (I could go on and on) ... And although I don't personally identify with most of those categories, I am amazingly blessed to have wonderful people in my life who fit each of these labels. And so many other labels that ultimately don't matter at all. Human is human, and no matter how you slice it, we're all part of the same family. And my wonderful, annoying brain tumor won't allow me to separate myself from "the other," even if I wanted to. So every single time I hear someone I love and respect lobbing attacks at "those people" - no matter which group of people they're hurling hatred at, and no matter how far removed from my personal experience that particular group may be - it hurts. A lot.

And I wanted to speak up. I wanted to stand tall and raise my voice and use my strength and my privilege to be a protector for my friends and acquaintances who genuinely feared for their safety and the safety of their families. Instead, because of my stupid brain tumor, I spent too many days paralyzed, unable to get out of bed, unable to function, because the negativity was just too strong.

I literally couldn't speak up. I couldn't move. I couldn't act. I couldn't even breathe. I've cancelled plans with friends and neglected important household tasks because I literally couldn't function properly. And I've spent more nights than I care to count staring at the ceiling, wondering if this night might be my last. (Because when breathing isn't an automatic response ... when you have to consciously remind your lungs to expand and contract to bring in the necessary oxygen ... falling asleep and letting that conscious effort lapse is frankly terrifying. I never know if I'll actually wake up again.)

And I've felt so guilty that I wasn't being more proactive in supporting those who needed my support. So over and over again (dozens ... maybe even hundreds of times), I've started writing this blog post to explain. To assure you that I'm here. I'm watching. I'm praying for you. And I'm doing what I can - even if all I can do is send virtual hugs and lots of real love. But as much as I feel the need to explain myself, I also don't want to be that girl who just makes excuses for her lack of action. And I don't want to play that "me first" card, making the genuine pain and fear that so many are facing all about how those attacks and threats to others hurt me too. Because while it's true that an atmosphere of hate hurts every single member of our human family, it's not okay for me to put my own comfort and safety above those friends and family members who have been targeted.

So I hope this post serves as an explanation, and not an excuse. I hope you know that I'm here for you, even if I can't always carry your burdens as well as I'd like to. I'm praying for you, even if I can't speak. And I'm thinking of you always.

With that said ... I hope you'll understand if I shift the focus of my blog and my social media presence for the time being. I need to go back to actively looking for the things to be grateful for, even if it looks like I'm focusing on superficial things instead of the deeper issues facing our world today. So I will tweet about books that I love and books that I'm excited to read. I will search your twitter feeds for reasons to celebrate your milestones and send ample hugs and love. I will post recipes inspired by my amazing friends and tell the stories of how those recipes came to be. In a world that's often too weighed down by criticism and hate, I will focus on all the little ways I can share love.

I love you all!

Broadway and Brain Tumors: Why Meeting a Celebrity Meant So Much to Me

As you know, on May 28, the anniversary of the day my life fell apart, I decided to replace the sad with happy memories and took my family to New York to see She Loves Me on Broadway. (It was fabulous, guys! If you have a chance, you totally need to go see it!! And you should take me, because I absolutely want to see it again. And again.)**

After the show, I had my first ever shaking-with-giddy-excitement-over-meeting-a-celebrity, total fangirl moment. Because (eep!!) I got to meet Zachary Levi! (And yes, he's as genuine and nice in person as you'd expect.)

I was shaking so hard while waiting for the actors to come out after the show that my children were openly mocking me. (They weren't the only people laughing at me. Really, I caught smiles on the faces of all the total strangers around us as they watched this grown woman literally bouncing with excitement. I'm sure many of them went home and told their friends about the nutty woman with an insane celebrity crush.) And in my defense, a large part of the shaking was due to the fact that I forgot to take my brain tumor medicine (the one that controls my intense muscle spasms), so my brain was sending all kinds of wonky signals, and my excitement translated into spastic shaking. But I can't blame it all on my brain tumor. I haven't been this excited in a LONG time, guys!

It was a perfect day - or as close to perfect as I could imagine - and the absolute best way to celebrate the end of a REALLY hard year. 

I got to see one of my favorite musicals,

 

featuring one of my favorite actors,

surrounded by my favorite people in the world! 

Me with my family (and Jessica), meeting Zachary Levi! (The lady in the sunglasses up in the corner was totally giggling at my spastic fangirling the whole time! - Luckily, I think she was more amused than annoyed.)

 And we even went out after the show to get some vanilla ice cream as a treat. (If you don't know why that's significant, you really need to listen to the soundtrack! You can buy it on Amazon and iTunes!)

I came home from New York two weeks ago with a smile on my face that I'd thought I would never find again. For the first time in a year, I finally allowed myself to hope for good things. For the first time in a year, I felt like myself again. And I couldn't wait to tell everyone I knew all about it!!

But when the teasing over my "celebrity crush" started, I realized that without a LOT of backstory, I really couldn't explain why meeting this particular actor was so significant to me. (Yes, it will be long and rambly. So I'm highlighting the main points in a larger font for those who want to skim through.)

So why was meeting Zachary Levi so important to me? No, it's not because I think he's attractive.*

 *Of course I think Zachary Levi is attractive. 100% of the people who didn't already know who the actor was thought that this picture (the one my husband, Phil, drew to commemorate our trip to see She Loves Me) was a portrait of a younger Phil, instead of a picture of Zachary Levi. Ummm... yeah. I think the actor is attractive, guys. But that's not the point.

I know I promised pictures and a recap of the trip a long time ago, but I felt like I really needed to tell the whole story ... and it's taken me weeks to get up the courage to share details I haven't even admitted yet to my own family. I tried to write a totally superficial Yay-I-Met-a-Celebrity blog post, but without the story behind my excitement, it just felt wrong. Not just because all of the constant teasing about my "crush" has gotten a little tiring (seriously, guys, the reason my husband isn't "threatened" by my obvious excitement at meeting the actor is because he knows the story - he knows my excitement isn't about a "crush"). But beyond the desire to explain myself, I had to share because recently I have seen good friends being attacked for sharing opinions without first demonstrating their "right" to speak on those issues. I've seen friends being mocked for enjoying things simply because they don't look like the "type" of person who would like those particular things. I've talked to friends who are afraid to speak up about matters both important and trivial because of how someone somewhere might respond.

And I think it's important for us to realize that we don't always understand what's going on in someone else's head.

That thing you think is silly or unimportant? It might just be the most important thing in the world to someone else. And that person who "has no right" to talk about the issue you're so passionate about? They might understand more than you think.

So get comfortable, guys. I'm going to explain why meeting Zachary Levi meant so much to me. And why I'll be forever grateful to this actor who probably has already forgotten me.

You already know about my brain tumor, right? 

Because that's kind of important to this story. And I won't go into it here, because I shared the whole saga a few years ago on this blog. If you want to read all about it, here are the links: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6  (Go ahead. I'll wait.) Okay, are you all caught up? Good. (For those of you who didn't want to read the whole six-part story, I'll sum up: I have a brain tumor. It's "as benign as a brain tumor can be," but the fact that it's in my brain stem causes a lot of problems for me, as the signals from my brain get all jumbled up on the way to make the rest of my body function. And since my brain surgery in 2006, where they were able to remove 60%, but not all of the tumor, the remaining tumor doesn't show up in MRI scans. Sometimes it's severely frustrating to try to get new doctors to take an invisible tumor seriously, but I've been blessed with some phenomenal doctors along the way. And I'm surviving each new challenge as it comes.)

What I didn't tell you (what I didn't tell ANYONE) was that, although our move to Albuquerque was a huge blessing, in a way, because it put me in the right place to meet the doctor who knew how to treat the most debilitating of my brain tumor symptoms, the climate in New Mexico was pretty toxic for me. The combination of high altitude and dry air made it nearly impossible to breathe. (A lot of people with asthma move to dryer climates to make breathing easier. Not me. My airways close when there isn't enough humidity. Just one of the many reasons my family jokes that I'm built backward.)

And several of my other random brain tumor symptoms were getting worse. The new medication my NM doctor prescribed helped to control the intense muscle spasms, so as long as I didn't miss a dose, I didn't have to worry about the constant pain. But the dizzy spells and blackouts, the blurred vision, the nausea, the moments of panic when all of a sudden nothing around me looked even vaguely familiar, ... all of those symptoms were coming more frequently.

I spent an entire day in the emergency room, hooked up to monitors while the nurses and doctors puzzled about why my oxygen levels kept dropping so dangerously low. They ran test after test and couldn't find anything wrong. No obstructions, no inflammations, nothing that should be interfering with my oxygen absorption levels. But I noticed the pattern the ER staff were missing. Because I'd experienced it before. The scariest of all my brain tumor symptoms: I literally forgot to breathe. Every time I started to relax, every time I began to drift off to sleep and stopped consciously thinking about my breathing, I just stopped. This wasn't a struggling-to-get-air-into-my-lungs kind of thing. Sometimes, my brain just doesn't send the right signal, and breathing isn't always the autonomic response for me that it is for most people. I literally forgot to breathe until the monitors started beeping to warn me of the dangerously-low oxygen levels. This hadn't happened for a long time, but now I couldn't get my brain to reset back to the default breathing settings, and I felt like I was in that old joke, where the dumb blonde had to have a post-it note to remind her to breathe.

I had increasingly-frequent occurrences where the words and thoughts in my brain became a jumbled mess when I tried to hold a normal conversation. And some of the stranger moments do kind of make me giggle. Like when I tried to tell my husband "I love you," and instead muttered "I'm craving tater tots." (I didn't actually want tater tots at the moment.) Or when the words "peanut butter" suddenly had the power to reduce me to a sobbing mess. (This one still happens frequently and with no warning, though we've discovered that with the right inflection, "peanut butter" isn't always a devastatingly-sad phrase. But if you offer me a peanut butter cookie and I collapse into a puddle of tears on the floor, please don't take it personally!) ... As funny as these things are, it's also freaking scary to have so little control over your own mind.

By the time TWELVE STEPS was published in March of 2014, I was having more bad days than good. And the last time I'd experienced this intensity of symptoms was in 2005, when my tumor had started rapidly growing again (leading to my brain surgery in early 2006). But now, because the remaining tumor was invisible to scans, I had no way of knowing if the increased symptoms meant my tumor was growing again or just a result of stress or because I was living in a not-good-for-me climate. 

I knew that worrying about it wouldn't help anything. And with the publication of my book, I suddenly had the added pressure of being a semi-public figure, so complaining was out of the question. As an author, it was my job to smile and be happy. And as a mother, it was my job to protect my children from the scary parts of life. So I pushed through with a smile on my face, carefully hiding the fact that I was beyond terrified.

I was afraid to even write about my fears in my journal, because what if my husband, or one of my kids read it? Since there wasn't anything we could do to make things better, worrying them with "what if Mom dies?" didn't seem like the best course. So I created an anonymous profile online, totally unconnected to my real online profiles, that I could use to interact with other brain tumor survivors on a message board for the American Brain Tumor Association. And when it was too hard to keep silent, but totally impossible to even think about placing this burden on the shoulders of those who loved me ... I would go online and post an anonymous "diary entry" to confess that I worried about these things.

And then, just in case, I started quietly preparing for the scariest "what if" scenarios. On my good days, I spent hours in the kitchen, creating custom recipes for friends and family (because who hasn't been comforted, when they miss someone they love, with a bite of Grandma's famous pound cake?) ... I started playing matchmaker for my friends, so they'd have each other to hang out with if I suddenly wasn't there to go to lunch with ... I stepped up my efforts in teaching my kids ALL the life skills, so they wouldn't have to subsist on boxed mac-n-cheese if I suddenly wasn't around to make dinner, or wonder how to remove ketchup stains from their favorite sweaters if I wasn't there to help with the laundry ... And I looked for every opportunity to let my friends and family know that I truly believe this life isn't the end. Even if I'm not here tomorrow, I'll never be truly gone. 

But I was afraid to sleep at night because what if I forgot to breathe while sleeping? I might close my eyes and never open them again. Honestly, I wasn't afraid of death ... But what if my family wasn't as prepared for it as I hoped they would be?   


So for months, in the quiet, middle-of-the-night hours when everyone else was sleeping and the "What If?" monster had me worrying that sleep might be deadly, I would sit at my computer and write ... or catch up on emails ... or read through the reviews for TWELVE STEPS. (Side note: NEVER read the reviews of your own books! Even though most of them were positive, and it meant so much to hear how my words had touched someone else, those way-too-tired middle-of-the-night hours drew my focus to the handful of negative responses that told me I wasn't good enough.) ... So when trying to be productive didn't work, and I was still afraid to sleep, I kept myself awake by scrolling through random YouTube videos.

I discovered this video of Zachary Levi (and Sara Chase) singing "Things I Never Said" from his first Broadway musical: First Date. Which led to all kinds of research about First Date, because I simply had to know where this song fit into the story. (If my internet sources are correct, this is a letter that his character carries with him - written by his deceased mother. Which, for obvious reasons, hit me quite hard.)

And because I think Zachary Levi has one of the best voices ever (seriously, can we start a petition to have him release an album or twelve?), and because this song had suddenly become a bit of a theme song for me, the next obvious step was to Google "Zachary Levi singing." Which led me to this video of his NerdHQ appearance in June 2014. (He sings a tiny bit of "I have a dream" from Tangled when an elementary school teacher requests a song for her students from Flynn Rider, which is why this video came up when I googled "Zachary Levi singing," but if that was the only bit of the video I'd seen, I wouldn't be telling you this story right now.)

Of course I watched the whole video. What else was I going to do in the middle of the night, when I literally couldn't sleep, even though I was beyond exhausted?

About 45 minutes in, Zac said, "I feel a little bit of a pressure sometimes to always be happy. And I'm not. ... I'm not always happy. ... Life is hard. And it doesn't matter who you are. It doesn't matter what level of success you've risen to or fallen from or whatever. It's hard. And I do feel like God has created me to bring happiness, so when I feel like when I'm not doing that, I feel like I'm failing. And that's hard."

 Yes! I'm a natural optimist. I like to look for the rainbows and silver linings in every dark cloud. I appreciate the dark clouds for the soft way they filter the light. And overall, I'm a pretty happy person. Except when I'm not. But my job is to lift and support others, to help them find the happy moments in all of life's little (and big) trials. And if I can't do that ... what am I here for?

Zac continued with some advice for his younger self: "Enjoy it. Just ... trust in the process. And trust that people are gonna like it. Or might even love it. And be grateful. ... I think that's one of the biggest lessons that I continue to learn. Even in the hardships, even in the testings, be grateful. ... You're often being broken down to be built back up. ... Sometimes in your drive, you just miss out on a lot of things. And you miss out on the joy that it's already bringing..."

The words he spoke were obviously things I needed to hear, but I've heard the words before. I've voiced these thoughts myself countless times. It wasn't anything new. But when he started to tear up a bit, and then felt the need to poke fun at himself for showing that emotion, something clicked. This was a truly genuine moment. He wasn't just playing a part. He understood that need to always be the happy one. 

 

Suddenly, I didn't feel quite so alone.

I can't even count the number of times I've re-watched this video in the past two years. Over and over and over again, I've used it to remind myself that I'm not alone. That I can keep going, even when things are so hard that I'm afraid I might break. That I don't actually have to carry the whole burden myself, and I'll still be worthy of love if I'm not strong enough to always be the strong one.

So when the opportunity presented itself to see She Loves Me, and when everything fell into place to give me the perfect, happy, worry-free day I needed after such a difficult year, it felt like the Lord was giving me a sign ... telling me that it's okay to let go a little bit ... that I don't always have to be the one to carry the full burden. 

 But here's the thing, guys. My day wasn't perfect because I met Zachary Levi. (sorry Zac!) He just happened to be a part of my perfect day. 

The day was perfect because, for the first time in a year, I dared to hope for positive things, and happy things happened. The world didn't come crashing down around me. For a year, every time I've posted an update recounting the blessings I've seen in the challenges we've faced since our house was destroyed, I've received bad news (another delay ... a failed inspection ... a persistent illness that knocks me out when I don't have time to rest...) I was afraid to hope for good things, and it was slowly killing this girl, who thrives in a "rainbows and bubbles world. But for one day, everything went exactly according to plan. We woke up on time and got on the road precisely when I had planned. We didn't hit traffic on our way up to New York. We had time to get lunch at the gourmet grilled cheese shop I'd been looking forward to trying, and to walk in Central Park before the show. The musical was everything I hoped it would be - the roles perfectly cast and every song performed even better than the soundtrack (from a previous revival) I had grown to love. (There's always a fear that the New Version won't measure up to the familiar one ... But I discovered that I loved this revival even more than the one I already loved!!) ... Then, I got to meet Zachary Levi, and he was genuinely kind - taking time to answer my daughter's questions about performing on Broadway (her dream), chatting with everyone in the crowd, and posing for lots of pictures with everyone. ... For an entire day, I could smile and laugh and giggle with some of my favorite people in the world, and even though I forgot to take my brain tumor meds, my body didn't shut down on me. 

It was perfect because, like that YouTube video that gave me hope when I struggled to find it two years ago, She Loves Me is full of messages of hope and love and trusting in things to work out the way they're supposed to, even when you're faced with a challenge that, at first, appears to be the worst thing that could possibly happen. 

It was perfect because for a full year, every time I dared to dream, life would throw me a curve ball, and I was literally breaking under the weight of all my crushed hopes ... but then I got to spend a whole day laughing with my family and one of my best friends. And for one day, it didn't matter that we had yet another delay on our house construction ... or that my health is still on the shaky side ... or that I continue to face dark paths with scary challenges and no sure guarantees.
My only regret is that, in my fangirl-flailing over meeting Zachary Levi, I got all tongue-tied and didn't say the things I wanted to say. I wanted to tell him thank you. To let him know that his words had helped me through a very difficult time. I wanted to let him know that he made a difference. Because, as an author, it always means so much to me when I get that kind of feedback from my readers. But I couldn't figure out how to express it without going through the whole story. So I didn't. ... And I know it's unlikely that he will ever stumble across this blog, but Zac, if you read this: Thank you!

A perfect day = Smiling and laughing with my favorite people in the world!

Of course, life can't always be perfect. And the past few days and weeks have been hard. As days and weeks are bound to be. And even though I know it's nearly impossible to recreate a "perfect" moment, I've been wishing that I could afford a trip to New York to see the show one more time. To lock the scenes into my memory for days when I need to access those perfect moments again. But a trip like that is expensive. And with every penny going toward rebuilding my house, I really can't justify the cost.

** This morning, I finally admitted to myself that it's not going to happen, no matter how much I wish it ... But as I was writing this blog post, a notification popped up in my Facebook feed: She Loves Me will be showing in a live-stream broadcast from BroadwayHD on June 30th!!

It's just a little, totally "unimportant" thing in the grand scheme of life, but this news fills my heart with happiness. I'll get to relive those memories without breaking my budget. 

A perfect reminder that the Lord is on my side. And He loves me.

Confessions of a Semi-Absent Friend (It's Not You. It's Me.)

As you know, 2015 was a a really difficult year for me.

The holidays (from Halloween, clear 'til the New Year) were especially hard, and I really struggled to capture the spirit of joy that usually comes so easily for me. For the first time, I experienced the seasonal depression that hits so many during the holidays. And though I tried to keep up the cheerful attitude I'm generally known for, I'll admit that I spent many hours hiding in quiet corners to cry so I wouldn't bring anyone else at the party down.

But the thing is, I don't think I was really fooling anyone. Though I tried to keep up a carefully-cultivated mask, though I wore a plastered-on smile and forced a chipper tone into my voice when answering the unavoidable "how are you?"-type questions, I know my recent aloofness has caused some hurt feelings.

And I want to apologize for being a semi-absent friend.

"When you cannot do what you have always done, then you only do what matters most." This quote by Elder Robert D. Hales has become my mantra in recent months. I've had to remind myself daily that I'm not a bad person just because I have to say no to things I've said yes to in the past. Still, I've been saying "no" so much more than I want to. And I've heard enough quiet murmurings to know that some of my friends and family are starting to think they aren't in my "what matters most" category.

So at the risk of sounding like I'm having a prolonged pity party, I wanted to explain why I've been absent lately. Why I'm not on Twitter or Facebook or this blog cheering your successes and mourning your losses with you. Why I've not attended so many social engagements, even when I said I'd really try to be there. Why I'm no longer the one jumping to volunteer when I see a friend in need, even when I desperately want to be there for you. And why I might quietly slip away from a conversation just when you start thinking that everything is back to normal.

It's not you. I promise.

It's me.

And I know that's the world's most unhelpful cliche, but it's the total and honest truth.

I want you to know that I'm not sitting around feeling sorry for myself. I'm not sinking into a deep depression or wallowing in a pool of self-pity and resentment. And even though I might break down in uncontrollable fits of private sobs more often than I want to admit these days, I really will be okay. And I'm getting better, but it will take some time to replenish my natural well.

As you know, I'm a certified optimist. I can find the good in any situation, the positive spin on even the most negative circumstances. And even though circumstances have been HARD for the past eight months, I can see so many wonderful blessings that have come from our struggles. And truly, even though I don't know how I have the strength to get out of bed some days, the Lord has blessed me with the strength to keep putting one foot in front of another, and we've found a way to do all of the truly essential things.

But here's the thing: Things are more difficult right now than they've ever been. And although I can still look at each and every trial and find the good hidden there, I'm exhausted. I simply don't have the energy to project that positive spin for an audience.

I'm not sure when we'll be able to go home again. Work has come to a screeching halt on our house, as we wait for reports from the structural engineer (so that the rebuild can be done safely and securely, and we don't accidentally end up with nothing more than a pile of rubbish where our home used to be). We have no more money to pay for work to continue. The funds we've raised, the loan we were able to acquire, and the small amount we had in our savings have all gone to pay for the mold removal. We're hoping to be able to get a new loan to refinance our house and be able to pay for the rebuilding, but the bank can't process the paperwork until they have the report, and we won't know if we even qualify for the loan until they process that paperwork.

And yes, I know that I have been so richly blessed in so many ways. I'm still beyond overwhelmed by the generosity you showed in our gofundme campaign. And yes, I have faith that somehow, in some way, things will work out.

I don't know how.

And to be honest, I'm terrified. And feeling more than a little bit lost. But the natural optimist in me keeps pointing out the blessings, and that keeps me from collapsing under the weight of it all.

The thing is, my little cup of gratitude, overflowing as it may be, isn't big enough to fill my well right now. And I just don't have enough optimism to share.

So when you ask me for an update on my house, and the only news I've had to report for months is that work has stopped and I don't know when or if we'll be able to afford the next step ... Or when you ask me if I'm going to make cookies for everyone in the neighborhood this year (as I used to do every year at Christmas), just hours after I was crying in the grocery store because I wasn't sure I'd have enough money to feed my family that week ... Or when you invite my children to join you for an afternoon of fun and it's only $10 per person, but that's $40 more than I have in the budget ...

Yes, I will still see the blessings there. I will still see the silver linings in every cloud and the rainbows shining after every storm.

I will be excruciatingly grateful for the most amazing contractors in the world, who have gone out of their way to personally let me know that I'm not alone, and that they will do everything in their power to make sure we WILL find a way to rebuild our home.

I will blink back a few tears of joy over the fact that everything on my grocery list was on sale and each item carried extra gas reward bonus points

 enough to allow me to fill my tank for only fourteen cents per gallon.

I will thank the Lord that you love my children enough to want to include them in the fun times, and that you recognize how desperately we need some fun right now.

But I don't always have the energy to keep smiling.

I don't even have the strength to explain to you that you didn't make me cry, and that I didn't mean to burst into a sobbing mess just because you showed me the beautiful kitchen you just finished remodeling.

And I'm struggling so hard just to keep my own head above water that even though I see you struggling too, and I desperately want to lift you, I know that we'll both go under if you're relying on me.

But I'm not really absent. I'm still here, quietly cheering for you on the sidelines. I pray for you. I think  of you.

And little by little, I'm filling my well. One tiny drop at a time. Until someday soon, I hope, I'll be ready to step out of the shadows and reflect the sunshine I see in our lives every single day.

Please be patient with me until then.

And please know that I love you.

*hugs*

Adventures in a Real-Life Hallmark Movie

You know that scene in all those Hallmark Channel movies, when the whole town comes together to save the main character from whatever drama she's facing? Yeah, I feel like I've been living in that scene for the past several months, as we struggle to get our home fixed. I've been living on the verge of a total meltdown every day, yet every time I hit that place where I simply can't do it anymore on my own, someone steps forward to carry my burden for me. Between the overwhelming auctions put together by so many amazing publishing people and the donations on our gofundme page, I spent a lot of this summer crying happy tears. I still can't believe how much support we're getting from all of you wonderful folks!

We've officially moved back to Maryland now, but we're still waiting for work to begin in restoring our house. We're facing what I think will be the last hurdle before we can get a loan to pay for the renovations, and I'm trying to stay positive, even though the silence is killing me with every day we wait. (We have to get an official appraisal saying what the house will be worth after repairs ... but so far we've had two appraisals scheduled, and though both were warned about the damage, they didn't take the warnings seriously. Both appraisers backed out as soon as they saw the true extent of the mold damage. If you're the praying type, please send up a prayer for us, as we have a third appraiser scheduled to go in today. If the appraisal comes back with a value high enough to justify the loan we need, we'll be able to get work started!)

Still, I'm a firm believer that every trial brings great blessings. And every challenge, no matter how devastating it may seem, is just another building block in the foundation of greatness.

This belief has certainly been strengthened since we arrived in Maryland.

We arrived with cheerful thoughts and high hopes a little over a week ago. We didn't know where we were going to live while waiting for our home to be fixed or how we were going to get through the next few weeks or months, but we were confident that it would all work out somehow. (I'd hoped, when I discovered the damage in May, that we'd be able to get the work completed over the summer and be ready to move in by the time we arrived. Sadly, that was not the case. Instead, we spent all summer trying to find a way to pay for the repairs.)

Turns out, finding affordable (or even super-expensive) temporary housing (a place that doesn't require a long-term lease) for six people and two cats isn't as easy as you might think. We found several apartments that offered short-term leases and welcomed our two cats ... but they had a four person limit. Then, we found one place that would allow all six of us, but only one of our cats. And one place that had room for all of us (cats included), but wouldn't be available until mid-October! Each possibility we explored started with a surge of hopefulness, leading to total despair when my hopes were crushed. When we reached the end of the list (after calling or visiting every apartment complex we could find in the area, and even begging a local realtor for leads) with no results, I sat in my car and cried. My only options were to give up one or more of my family members in exchange for a place to live ... or to remain homeless for a couple of months. None of those options were acceptable, but I didn't know what else to do.

So I went online and sent out a call for help to all of my friends in the area. Minutes later, a friend of a friend saw my plea. And she had a friend who was getting ready to put her home up for rent at the beginning of September. A friend who was willing to speed up the process so we could move in right away. A friend who had room for our whole family AND our cats. ... And her friend has become, in only a few short days, not only my landlord but someone I can truly call a friend as well.

I'm still hovering on the edge of tears every single day, and I feel like I'm walking an unmarked path through woods so dark I can't see farther than my next step at any given moment. But I will keep walking, keep moving forward. Because though the journey is difficult and sometimes truly terrifying, there are so many wonderful blessings to be found along the way. And I have discovered the best traveling companions to get me through. Thank you all for being a part of my journey! I love and appreciate you more than words can possibly express.

Facing Fears Head-On

A while back, I wrote about Living with an Expiration Date  and my determination not to let those daily "what ifs" of living with a brain tumor stop me from living my life. Usually, I'm pretty good at remembering all of the great advice I gave myself in that blog post. Usually, I can brush off the weird symptoms and ignore the strange side effects of living with a brain tumor. And most days, I'm genuinely grateful for the little daily trials that help me to remember all the major blessings that get me through.

But for the past couple of months, I've been struggling. I'm not sleeping well, my dizzy spells have increased, I'm having more muscle spasms than usual, and I've lost count of the times I've simply stopped breathing because I wasn't consciously thinking about inhaling and exhaling. These are all "red flag" symptoms that could easily be nothing (might be stress or exhaustion or even a common virus) but this particular group of symptoms was also the exact combination that finally led to the discovery of my brain tumor in the first place.

And two years after my radiation, this combination of symptoms was the reason my doctors and I decided to run another set of MRI and CT scans to see if the tumor was growing again. It was. (That's when I had my surgery.)

So even though I know it could be nothing, and even though I've dealt with each of these symptoms in a myriad of different configurations over the years, facing them all together like this sends the "what if" monster into a frenzy. Unfortunately, this time around a series of scans won't help us to see if the tumor is growing again. Because the remaining tumor is invisible to scans, so there's no way to know for sure.

I've been reminding myself daily that it's probably nothing. And I'm trying to believe that. Because it's probably the truth. And I've been hiding my fears from everyone, because I didn't want to worry anyone. And I've had so many people tell me that my optimistic outlook is an inspiration ... so it feels like I'm letting the whole world down if I'm not always "on."

So I've plastered on a happy smile and painted rainbows and bubbles across the sky. And I've tried to be the most positive, upbeat, cheerful person ever. Because that's who I am. And that's who I want to be.

Meanwhile, I've been operating in panic mode for the past three months, battling the strongest what if monsters I've ever encountered. "I need to knit enough hats and scarves and mittens to last my family throughout the rest of all eternity, because what if I'm not here next winter to make more?" "I must organize all of our family photos and kids' artwork and random bits of memorabilia into scrapbooks, because what if no one remembers that this group of fast food receipts was from the anniversary when we were too poor to go out for a nice dinner, so we bought one thing at each of six different fast food chains instead?" "I must write ALL THE BOOKS, and sell them to publishers NOW, because what if I die before I get the chance, and NO ONE REMEMBERS ME EVER???"

I even joined an anonymous online brain tumor support group, so I could talk about my fears with total strangers, carefully hiding any identifying details that might let people in my real life know that I'm worried. But I haven't been hiding the crazy as well as I thought I was, so there's been an added layer of tension in all of my relationships for the past few months, as I push people away "Because what if they start to rely on me, and then I die and leave them without that support? I need to pull away ... to make them find other people to lean on instead." (On some levels, this has totally worked. My friends and family members are turning more and more to each other for help, and they're less likely to come to me with their problems. I'm much more isolated these days than I used to be... which may not be an actual good thing.)

And yesterday, all of the fears and what-ifs and craziness came crashing down on me all at once when I had a major meltdown over something that, honestly, wasn't even worth shedding a tear about. Because in all of my crazy what-ifs, I'd made a secret deal with myself: If this one thing that I was hoping for (that actually looked like it was pretty likely) came out the way I was hoping it would, I'd have proof that God loved me enough to hold off all the scary what-ifs I keep imagining. I set this private ultimatum on something I was 98% sure would happen, because I knew it would be an easy way for me to prove to myself that all the fears and worries were baseless. All I had to do was get past this one easy hurdle, and then I could rest assured that I'm not dying and my family will be okay, and people won't forget my name by tomorrow.

But that 98% sure thing? Yeah, turns out it wasn't as certain as I thought. It didn't happen, and the whole fragile system of hope I'd built on this flimsy premise crashed all around me. And my poor friend who got caught in the middle of my meltdown had no idea how this really very tiny, almost insignificant, thing (which was actually, ironically, good news ... just not the picture of events I'd determined to be my "you're not dying" signal) set me spinning into such a severe spiral. And the more she tried to comfort me, the more those fragile barricades I'd built for myself exploded, until I was hyperventilating and she was wondering what the heck just happened.

Today is Tuesday, the day I set aside each week to worship in the Temple, to refresh my spirit and gain the strength I need to face all of the fears and worries of another week. But I had reached such an all-time low that I couldn't even make myself go inside. I sat in the parking lot, staring at the Temple through my windshield, wondering if I shouldn't just skip this week. Because I feel closer to the Holy Spirit inside the Temple than anywhere else, and that's where I always get the tough answers to my most difficult prayers. What if I asked, and He told me that yes, I am dying?

But I was already there, so I decided I might as well go inside. I took a deep breath and opened the car door ... and my phone trilled with an email from my friend, who was checking up on me after my meltdown yesterday.

So of course I had another, even bigger, meltdown.

We emailed back and forth for over an hour as I sat in the parking lot, afraid to go inside and face the Lord. And I'm pretty sure I hurt my friend's feelings many times over in the course of my meltdown ... But I couldn't rationally explain myself. Because fears like this aren't rational. And even though I knew I'd regret it later, I only wanted to lash out - to push her away, so that if I die, she won't have to be hurt.

So, in an attempt to salvage my friendship before I completely destroyed it, I stopped answering her emails. And I called my husband to let him know I was going to skip going to the Temple today and meet him for lunch instead.

He told me to go inside, and he'd see me for a late lunch afterward, whenever I was finished conversing with the Lord.

Have I mentioned that my husband is very wise?

I sat in the quiet peace of the Temple, opened a Bible to 2 Timothy and began to read. In chapter one, verse seven, it says, "For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind."

As I felt the love of the Savior wrapping around me, I realized something profound.

I don't know if I'm dying. I don't know if I have five minutes left on the earth or five days or five decades. But if I did die today, it would be okay. My children are amazing and well-prepared for just about anything life throws at them. My friends won't forget me. And my husband and I have a bond that will last throughout all eternity, and not just until death do us part. And if I can feel that safe and loved in the Lord's presence, I don't have anything to fear on the other side.

I've said it before and I'll say it again. I don't have any plans to die today. I intend to live fully each day that I'm blessed to remain on this earth. But I don't need to be afraid of the possibility. And if I die today, before I get a chance to go skydiving or to meet my favorite celebrities or finish another book or any of the other things I've been worried that I might not get to before it's too late ... well, it doesn't really matter, does it? Because that's not what life is about anyway. And death isn't really the end.

Getting my Priorities in Order (Update!)

I suffer from "As You Wish" syndrome.

When someone I love needs or wants something from me, it's very difficult to say no. I love seeing you smile and knowing that I played a part in putting that smile on your face. But sometimes (often), I say yes to so many people that I end up with far too many commitments and not nearly enough time to accomplish them all. And then I end up disappointing the very people I'm trying to help.

I've blogged about this issue here, here, here, and here (as well as a few - okay, many - other times). And let's be honest, I'll be blogging about it again before long. For someone with "As You Wish" syndrome, learning to say "no" is an ongoing, life-long process.

And I knew I was approaching my breaking point again a few weeks ago, when I talked about Juggling All the Things. But this weekend, I realized that I've actually long-since passed that point. As I sat down to schedule my Saturday, trying to fit in DD#1's band competition, DD#2's volleyball game, DD#3's church youth group mother/daughter activity, DS's bass guitar lessons, movie night for my oldest two daughters and their youth group, a church dance for my son, Pitch Wars critique, writing critiques for my CPs, blog posts, responding to emails about TWELVE STEPS school visits, and trying to fit in a little time to write my own WIP ... Something had to give. At any given time, I had at least three different places to be simultaneously. And since scientists haven't yet perfected cloning, I just couldn't do it all. But I'd promised everyone, and I couldn't let them down! So I worked out a schedule where I could do a little bit of everything, as long as I didn't stop moving for even a moment. It meant being on the move from 6am until 11:30pm or later, but I would do it all. And then, when the craziness was all over, I promised myself I'd learn to say "no."

As I prepared to leave my youngest daughter's mother/daughter activity (where we made these adorable Princess headbands for the little girls at church)

 the leader gave me a hug and said "I know you're extremely busy, but thank you for taking some time to come today." I smiled and nodded, but I was already running late for my next commitment, so I didn't really have time to let her words sink in.

That night, when I met my older daughters' youth group at the movie theater (where they were going to see the new Meet the Mormons movie), their youth leader invited me to stay and watch the movie with them. My daughters and their friends agreed. It would be so fun!!

"Oh, no," I replied. "I can't. I have work to do. I'm going to take my laptop and find someplace to write."

I watched the faces of my two daughters fall as they nodded and accepted the fact that Mom was too busy to simply hang out with them and their friends. - So I scrapped the rest of my To-Do list for the night and spent the next 90 minutes or so sharing a giant bucket of popcorn with the girls.

I'm really good at reminding other people that they shouldn't try to do everything at once. In a recent guest post about social media on the SCBWI MD/DE/WV blog, I wrote: "Don’t try to do it all at once! You know that old adage about eating an elephant one bite at a time? The same applies to building your online presence. If you try to do everything at once, you’ll burn yourself out before you even get started." And it's time I started taking my own advice. So once again, I'm making the commitment to streamline my life.

For the rest of October, I'll be playing catch-up. I'll be completing a web re-design to make my author website and blog more streamlined and easier to navigate, and I'll be setting a posting schedule for myself that will (hopefully) be easier to follow - including letting some of the less-important things go. When I come back in November, I hope to be much more consistent.

And I need your help! I want to return the main focus of this blog to it's original purpose: Finding the blessings within life's daily trials. I'll need to let go of some of the "extras" that have taken over recently, but I don't want to lose them all. So please vote in my poll below to let me know which blog features you love and which you really could do without. (Vote for as many items as you'd like. I'll take all of your input into consideration.)

Thank you so much! I love you all!!

Update: As votes trickled in for my poll, both officially and through comments on my other social media outlets, I realized two things:

#1 - The results were incredibly inconclusive. Every vote I got for discontinuing a feature was offset with a vote from someone else for keeping it. 

#2 - I was sorely tempted to "cheat" by asking friends and family members to come cast their votes for the things that I wanted to win. Which means I already know, in my heart, what needs to stay and what needs to go. So I've closed the poll early, and over the next week or so, I'll be working out a schedule. At the end of October, I will post my new schedule, along with the reasons why I'm keeping (or letting go) the features I've decided upon.

*Giant Squish Hugs* to you all!!

On Juggling All the Things...

I admit that once again I've been MIA recently. And it feels like I'm apologizing for that a lot more often than I should. So once again, I'm stepping back to take stock of my very full plate. And maybe let something go. Because I'm really good at balancing all the things ... usually. But lately, I'm feeling a little too unsteady in this balancing act, and I'd hate to have it all come crashing down around me.

So please be patient with me. And I'll be back soon, ready to tackle the (more streamlined) world!

In the meantime ... I unveiled my redesigned website today, and I'm kind of ridiculously in love. (My amazing in-house artist, aka my awesome husband, illustrated the home page!)

I'm still working on some of the pages, but I'd love to hear your thoughts. What do you think of the new look?

My Bucket List

Next week (Tuesday, March 18), Julie Murphy's debut novel, SIDE EFFECTS MAY VARY releases.

THE FAULT IN OUR STARS meets Sarah Dessen in this lyrical novel about a girl with cancer who creates a take-no-prisoners bucket list that sets off a war at school—only to discover she's gone into remission.
When sixteen-year-old Alice is diagnosed with leukemia, she vows to spend her final months righting wrongs. So she convinces her best friend to help her with a crazy bucket list that's as much about revenge as it is about hope. But just when Alice's scores are settled, she goes into remission, and now she must face the consequences of all she's said and done.


As you know, THE FAULT IN OUR STARS was a particularly traumatic book for me, and I swore after reading it that I would never read another "cancer book." I handle life's uncertainties much better when I can ignore the fears and worries that living with a brain tumor can cause. But I totally have a bucket list, like Alice, and I have to say that the idea of Alice checking off everything on the bucket list, only to find out she's not dying after all makes me giggle. (Enough that I've totally added SIDE EFFECTS MAY VARY to my "to read" list!)

So when Julie asked several of us if we wanted to share our bucket lists, of course I said yes.

Before I die, I want to:
1. Be a mom (Technically, with 4 amazing children, I can cross this item off my list. But I don't want to be just any mom. I want to be the kind of mom that inspires my kids to be and do great things. I want to be fun and fabulous, without trading in the "parent" role for the less-substantial "friend" role in my kids' lives. I want to be "supermom," and that part, I'm still working on.)
2. Be a successful published author (Published: check. Successful: we're getting there. - And just in case you're wondering, "successful" to me doesn't mean "top of all the bestseller charts," although that would be nice. I'll consider myself overwhelmingly successful if I can have an impact on just one reader.)
3. Meet Nick Jonas (Hey, don't judge. I know the Jonas Brothers haven't been the hottest band on the planet for years, but I think Nick's an amazingly-talented songwriter, and his song "A Little Bit Longer" has extra-special meaning for me. In fact, it released the very day I found out that my brain tumor was the reason I wouldn't get the medical clearance to go overseas with my husband, when he was stationed in Korea. As I was tempted to wallow in self-pity, feeling sorry for myself because I'd have to keep playing the single-parent role when I felt so overwhelmingly unable to do it on my own sometimes, I heard this song. "Got the news today. Doctor said I have to stay a little bit longer, and I'll be fine." Yeah. That was exactly what I needed. I'd love to have the opportunity to say thank you.)
4. Go on another cruise ... maybe even two (The cruise we took to celebrate my 30th birthday a few years ago was one of the best vacations ever. I am such a water baby. I could totally live on a ship for the rest of my life and be perfectly content. But since I can't afford that kind of luxury, I'll just settle for one vacation at a time.)
5. Visit all 50 states (Just because I want to say I did it. I'm over halfway there, with 30 states on my list, if I counted correctly.)
6. Take an extended trip to Europe, to visit all of the places I'm finding in my family history research (I would love to see where my family came from, and to explore my roots. I would totally volunteer to be one of the stars on Who Do You Think You Are? - Everyone buy my book so I can become rich and famous and they'll ask me to be on the show, okay?)
7. Ride in a hot air balloon or Go skydiving (I've always wanted to know what it feels like to be floating through the air hundreds of feet off the ground. Those "which super power would you choose?" questions... I always choose flying!)
8. Go scuba diving (Again, I'm a total water baby. I used to joke that I'm part mermaid. I would love to explore the ocean this way. The only thing that's holding me back is my claustrophobia. The idea of putting on a wetsuit freaks me out. But I'm determined to conquer this fear, and I'm working on it.)

And, finally, it's not really something that I can check off, but I want to live in such a way that, when I die, my friends and family will keep forgetting to cry because they're laughing so hard over crazy Veronica stories. "Remember the time she accidentally announced that she was pregnant?" "Remember the way she used to mess up song lyrics?" "Remember when she used to fall flat on her face in water aerobics classes?"

Julie lives in North Texas with her husband who loves her, her dog who adores her, and her cat who tolerates her. When she's not writing or trying to catch stray cats, she works at an academic library. Side Effects May Vary is Julie's debut novel. Julie can best be found on her website, tumblr, or twitter.

Buy your copy of SIDE EFFECTS MAY VARY

IndieBound | B&N | Amazon

The More You Know: A Little Perspective on Pitch Madness

Last week, on the Sub It Club blog, I posted a behind-the-scenes look at how entries are chosen for Pitch Madness (the online writing pitch contest hosted twice a year by Brenda Drake). As I've participated in Pitch Madness a few times before and I know the devastating "I'm such a failure" feeling that hits when you don't make the final cut, I wanted to provide a little bit of perspective to all of the contest hopefuls who wouldn't make the final round this time. (As it turns out, I was one who didn't make the final cut this time around either. Although I had a few slush readers tell me that they loved my story, I didn't have enough votes to make it into the final round.) In the past few days, I've had several people tell me that the peek behind-the-scenes really helped them put the whole contest experience into perspective.

Thanks to Jessica Sinsheimer (aka "The Iron") for letting me use this picture!!

Yesterday, the Pitch Madness agent bids were revealed, and I watched it all unfold on the #PitchMadness twitter feed. I witnessed a lot of nail-biting and excitement as well as a healthy dose of disappointment and self-doubt as the big reveal unfolded, one entry at a time, over the course of the afternoon. There were a few entries that spurred intense bidding wars, as agents cast tie-breaking votes again and again. And there were a few entries that only got one bid or none. And my heart aches for the Pitch Madness hopefuls who walked away without any agent requests. Because it really sucks, I know, to feel like you've finally "made it," only to watch your friends get the attention you were hoping for.

Having been through Pitch Madness several times before, both as a contestant and as an observer, I kind of knew what to expect. And I knew there would be disappointment and nervous anxiety woven into the excitement. But this time around, I noticed something different. This series of tweets, posted on Monday afternoon by the lovely Jessica Sinsheimer, made me really stop and pay attention to the agents participating in the madness:

And as the reveals unfolded, I watched the participating agents react with the same mix of anxiety, excitement and disappointment I witnessed in the participating writers.

 

Writers weren't the only participants hoping and praying for good results.

 

Agents were just as excited about a win as the writers were. (Clarification: Please note that Lady Lioness is not an agent. She's an intern for Louise Fury, who was acting as the voice of Team Fury for the Pitch Madness reveal, which is why I grabbed a few of her tweets for this post. All actual decisions for Team Fury were made by the agent, Louise Fury, herself.)

And writers weren't the only participants who faced disappointment when they didn't get the results they were hoping for.

 

  

And at least once, I saw an agent kicking herself for not bidding on an entry that didn't get any bids. Why didn't she bid? Because the agent thought she wouldn't have a chance to win this fabulous pitch.

When the big reveal was finished and the dust had settled, I went through all of the Pitch Madness posts to count up the bids and compile some statistics. (Side note: some of the agents really had fun with their bid comments. I laughed my way through the entries. You should really take a moment to go read them for yourself.) And here's where I'll attempt to use those figures, combined with the tweets I witnessed, to explain what was going on in the minds of the agents during the Madness. (Note: I am not actually a mind reader, and I'm only guessing here based on my own observations and the limited conversations I had with a handful of agents after the fact. Any agents reading this blog: feel free to comment below to correct me if I get it horribly wrong!)

My first observation: Each agent had 61 bids to spend on pitches. (You can see the actual distribution of available bids here.) With 64 final pitches to bid on, even if every agent spent every single bid in the opening round, there was a possibility that some pitches wouldn't be snagged. Not because no one wanted them (remember, to get to this final round in the first place, each pitch had to get a "yes" vote from at least EIGHT different slush readers! - There were no bad entries in the bunch.), but because that's just the way statistics work.

Of course, it's completely unrealistic to think that any agent would bid on EVERY pitch. When you walk into a library or a bookstore, do you fall in love with every single title on the shelf? No. Chances are, you have favorite genres, age categories and writing styles that you look for when you pick a book. Agents also have preferences. And you wouldn't want an agent who took the grab-em-all-and-see-what-happens approach to requests. So, as you might expect, none of the agents actually spent all 61 of their bids. (In fact, none of the lowest bid denominations were played. And only 3 of the 2nd lowest cards were played.) Just like they do when going through their email slush piles, agents were selective in their choices.

My second observation: Each agent had a definite strategy for bidding.

Again, thank you Jessica Sinsheimer (aka "The Iron") for this fun image!! :)

Jessica Sinsheimer was, by far, the most aggressive bidder. She only played one of her "low card" bids ($50 - the highest of the low cards) and spent all but three of her "high cards" by the time it was all over. The strategy was kind of a risky one, but it paid off for her. She won 10 of the 57 pitches that received bids, although she had to bow out of two ties, because she'd used all of her high cards and had nothing left to bid.

(She would have lost another tie as well, but the other agent didn't come forward with a tie-breaking bid, so they both won.)

Jordy Albert was the most conservative in her bids. Of her 16 bids, 13 were "low cards." I assume she was holding the high cards to allow for tie-breaking victories. And if she'd made it to the tie-breaking rounds, she would have probably won every single pitch. Unfortunately, she was out-bid again and again (often by Jessica Sinsheimer) and only won two pitches. (I have to admit, I cried a little bit when I saw how discouraged Ms. Albert was getting by the end of the big reveal. But even the agents don't see the full picture. She didn't see, for example, the private message I got from one of the fought-over contestants who said, "And Jordy also asked for it. *happy dance*")

My third observation: The more experienced agents (those who participated in previous Pitch Madness contests) were more likely to bid aggressively. This wasn't always the case, but one agent I spoke to indicated that she didn't want to use her low card bids because she didn't think they'd win. And she was right. Only three pitches were won with a bid of $20 and only three with a $50 bid. From an author's perspective, my first instinct was to complain. "It's not fair! You had all of those $5 or $10 bids you didn't use! Even if you knew you wouldn't win, why not just throw one of those bids on there to let us know you were interested?"

But the more I stalked the agents' twitter feeds and studied the bidding patterns and chatted with agents yesterday, the more I began to suspect that there might be another side to the story. (Agents, please jump in and correct me if I'm wrong!!)

Imagine that you're an agent for Pitch Madness. You have eleven "high card" bids to vote with and ten more that are kind of middle-of-the-road. You've found twenty-one pitches you really want to request, so technically you have enough available bids to bid high on all of your favorites. But if you use all of your good plays, you won't have anything left to throw out in case of a tie, and you'll lose every single time. The answer seems simple, right? Just bid low on a few of your favorite pitches, so the author knows you're interested. You won't win, but hopefully the author will query you anyway. Then, you can save a few big votes for the tie-breakers, and you won't lose everything.

Except it's not really that simple. Because everyone will see your bids. And those authors who got your low bids might think you really aren't that interested in seeing their manuscripts. You worry that they'll compare bids and think, "Oh. She wanted at least 100 pages from everyone else, but she only wanted 20 pages from me. If she's not even excited about my manuscript, why should I bother?" Instead of encouraging the author, you're worried that your "pity vote" will be discouraging. So you don't do anything. The pitches you don't place bids on are so good, you know they'll be snatched up anyway. And maybe the author will see you tweeting about not having enough bids to go around and he'll query you anyway.

If you, dear hypothetical agent, had this selection of pitches in your slush pile, you could simply request partials or fulls of every manuscript that interested you. But in a contest, you only have so many full requests to work with. You must play them carefully, because if you're too conservative or too aggressive in the initial bidding, you might walk away with little or nothing to show for it after the tie-breaking round.

Every agent I've ever spoken to HATES rejecting manuscripts. Especially when they see true talent in the writing. Most agents seem to dislike writing rejection letters even more than I hate receiving them! It's no fun to be the bearer of bad news. And in a contest, where the results are publicly available for everyone to see, it's particularly nerve-wracking. Because even when they "win" a pitch, every agent knows that it's ultimately the author's choice. Will they send the requested manuscript? Or will they ignore your request because you weren't the agent they wanted to snag in this contest?

You think it's stressful to face rejection on your one manuscript? Imagine how it feels to be facing potential rejection on 64 different manuscripts all at once!

The biggest take-away message from it all is this: Don't get discouraged and Don't Give Up! If you didn't make it to the final round, you might have been closer than you think. If you made it to the final round and didn't get any bids, remember the agents had only a limited number of requests they could make - and they were playing against each other. You might have been closer than you think!

If an agent didn't request your manuscript in the contest, but their wish list says they're a perfect match, by all means, send a query. The worst they can say is "no." (But don't try to cheat and pretend it's a Pitch Madness request if it wasn't. Trust me, they know which pitches they bid on.)

And if you have Pitch Madness requests, don't keep these poor agents waiting any longer. Send your pages!! They watch their inboxes just as closely as we writers do! ;)

*Thank you so much Jordy Albert, Jessica Sinsheimer, Summer Heacock, and Lady Lioness for allowing me to use your words for this blog post! You guys are the best!!

P.S. For those of you who are interested, here is my chart with the statistics for the Pitch Madness bids (you may have to click to enlarge the image to make it readable):