My Amazing, Supportive Children

This week, I decided I was really going to follow the advice Liz Szabla (editor at Feiwel and Friends) gave me at a recent SCBWI event.  When I told her about my fear of burning bridges by submitting my work before it was fully ready, she said "You could keep revising and critiquing the same manuscript for 20 years without ever finding the courage to send it out on submission.  You need to just start sending it out.  You're ready."  I came home from that conference all fired up and excited to really get started with my writing career... and then I talked myself out of it and thought I'd better do a few more rounds of revisions first.

But this week, I was determined to take the leap.  Until I woke up Monday morning, and started to second-guess myself again.

Luckily, I got the kick in the pants I probably needed.  I logged onto twitter for a few minutes before starting my "real" work for the day, and I noticed that one of the agents on the top of my "to query" list had just tweeted "I'm hoping for lots of prom and kissing in my slush pile today."  Prom??? Kissing??? Wait a minute!  That sounds like my manuscript!!  I pushed my household chores "to do" list to the bottom of my daily priorities and sat down to write my query letter for this agent.

I couldn't concentrate on it, though.  My kids were bored, whiny, tired and fighting with each other (end-of-summer-itis has hit our household hard!) - and they interrupted me every 5 minutes with another tattle-fest.  I sat in my writing corner, getting more and more frustrated with myself, my children and my attempts to write the letter.  "Don't my kids realize that I'm doing something important here?  I don't have time for their whining today!!"

Then, I realized... I don't have time for my kids?  Wow!  My priorities had gone seriously out-of-whack!!  I closed my computer, put away my writing pencils and notebooks, and walked downstairs to spend some time with my children.  We wound up all piled together on my king-sized bed while I explained to them that they really are more important to me than anything else.  "I want to be a writer.  I want to get my book published.  But there will be time for that later.  Let's spend the last 2 weeks before school starts doing some fun things together, and I can pick this up again then."

Immediately, all 4 kids told me not to stop writing.  "You need to send your book to that agent today, Mom!  It's exactly what she's looking for, and the world needs good books like yours."

I smiled and hugged them tighter.  I didn't want them to think I was simply trying to send them on a guilt trip.  "Don't worry.  I'm not giving up.  I'm going to keep working on my writing, but I'll do it when it doesn't take away from time with you."  To illustrate my point, I asked them "Years from now, when you're all grown up with children and grandchildren of your own, when I'm dead and gone and you're remembering your childhood, what will be more important to you?  That I worked on getting my book published or that I spent time with you and let you know that you're more important to me than anything else?"

It was an easy question.  There could only be one answer.  (You all know the saying that no one, on their death bed says "I wish I'd spent more time at work!)  Not surprisingly, when I put the question to them this way, my children didn't have to think at all before answering.  They all knew the answer to that question immediately.  But it certainly wasn't the answer I expected.  "It's more important to publish your book!" 

All 4 of them - even the youngest - assured me that my writing should take priority.  Speaking together, as a team, they patiently explained that I do so much for them every day... They know I love them, because I show it in all the little things I do for them... "Mom, you deserve a break to work on something that you really love.  You need to get your book published."  Then, they all gave me hugs, told me to go back to my writing corner and went to make lunch for us all.  They spent the rest of the day carefully working out their problems and trying to work together as a team so that I wouldn't have to stop writing. 

Wow!!  What inspiring children!!!

The Simple Faith of a Child

This weekend, we had the amazing opportunity (as we do every 6 months) to listen to the General Conference for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. Instead of attending regular church worship services, we gathered in our family room to watch a broadcast from Church headquarters in Salt Lake City. We listened to our Prophet and President of the Church, Thomas S. Monson, and other Apostles and General Authorities as they offered counsel and direction to the Church membership and the world.

My youngest daughter, Katie, was especially thrilled by this opportunity, as she got to celebrate her 7th birthday with the Prophet, learning the teachings of Jesus Christ. Let me just say that I am extremely impressed with all of my children. I remember, when I was a child, that I would get antsy and I often had trouble sitting still and paying attention through the long sessions of General Conference. Four 2-hour sessions (two on Saturday and two on Sunday) were just too much for my tiny attention span. As a result, my parents only required me to watch one session with them (Sunday morning) - and the rest of the sessions were optional. I was probably 10 or 11 before I opted to watch more than one session of the Conference, and it wasn't until I went off to college that I ever sat through all four general sessions!

So the simple fact that my children choose to watch all four sessions of Conference with us every time is absolutely awe-inspiring to me! And though they may get antsy and restless now and again, they truly listen hungrily for the inspired counsel they know they will hear. Yesterday, as we sat watching the 2nd general session of the conference, Katie handed me a letter she had written... to Jesus! In her simple language and using the creative spelling of a 1st grader, she expressed her love for Him and her desire to follow His teachings.

"To: Jesus

from: Katie

I love you Jesus! I rilly want to get Batist. I want to see you. I am waching confrins rite now. I Love the testumownes the uposlse are saying. I just ternd 7 today. I want you to get my toth I lost today and I want to see Hevenly Father agan. The toth fary will give you my toth I lost today. It is my Berth day today and I love my Berthday presins. I Love lerning abot you and going to cherch. Cherch is fun! I hope you get my toth and note. I hope I live with you agan xoxoxoxo

I Love you you Love me I Don't care if Satin temps me and wants ale live with you agan."

For those of you who don't speak 1st grader, here is the translation:

"I love you, Jesus! I really want to get baptized. I want to see you. I am watching Conference right now. I love the testimonies the Apostles are saying. I just turned 7 today. I want you to get my tooth I lost today [she lost it while eating a sandwich during the 1st session of the General Conference] and i want to see Heavenly Father again. The tooth fairy will give you my tooth I lost today. It is my birthday today and I love my birthday presents [presents consisted of homemade jewelry and a small pillow from her sisters - she hadn't yet received anything from Mom & Dad or Grandparents when she wrote the letter]. I love learning about you and going to church. Church is fun! I hope you get my tooth and note. I hope I live with you again. xoxoxoxo

I love you. You love me. I don't care if Satan tempts me and what he wants. I'll live with you again."

Such a simple, straightforward declaration of faith and commitment! Can I honestly say that my faith is as strong as hers? How often do I stop to remember that Jesus really does love me? That he would want to hear about the small, insignificant to the world but significant to me, moments like losing a tooth or celebrating a birthday? Do I keep my focus on the goal - to live with my Father in Heaven and Jesus Christ again? Or do I let myself get sidetracked with Satan's plan for me?

The Savior taught us that, if we want to come unto Him, we need to be as little children. This weekend, I got to see an example of precisely what He meant!

Pouring Concrete

I was so excited, last weekend, to hear Jason Wright talk about the idea of "pouring concrete" when it comes to writing. He said that, more often than not, our beautiful, shiny muses will not be sitting beside us as we write. Sometimes, we just don't feel inspired, we hit a block and we don't have the perfect words for what comes next. Those are the times when we just need to "pour another square of concrete."

Picture your story as a sidewalk. You know where the story starts (the first square of concrete) and you know where it will end (that's the last square), but you have to finish the story by pouring concrete into all of the sections in between! In other words, when you don't feel absolutely inspired, just fill in the blanks to finish that first draft. You can't really fix and polish the story until you have the full story, so don't worry about getting it perfect the first time through. Just put in some work and get it done. You can fix and make it beautiful later!

It was perfect, timely advice for me. I've been working for more than a year on my second book (while still revising and refining my first novel - I know I said it was ready for publication a while ago, but it really did need more tweaking... it's much better now). My first manuscript took less than a month to get through the first draft. I carried it with me everywhere and made time to work on it, even when I wasn't sure what really came next. It was fun, I was excited, so I did it, and I didn't worry about making it perfect as I was writing that first draft. The finished product, as it stands now, bears little resemblance to the first draft - and I couldn't have written this story without first writing all that came before it (including that first, not very good draft). I knew the importance of "pouring concrete," so to speak.

So why is it taking so long to write the first draft of this second novel? Is it just that the story doesn't resonate with me? No. Am I trying to write about something that I know nothing about? No. Is it a story I shouldn't even bother to tell? Absolutely not. If anything, this story (about a young girl whose mother dies) is more personal, more compelling to me, than the first one. And I feel more driven than ever before to tell this particular story.

But I guess I forgot the importance of "pouring concrete." I've been waiting until I could tell the story perfectly in my first draft. Instead of carrying my story notebook with me everywhere I go, I've been waiting for those rare moments of inspiration, telling myself I would write when inspiration hit, and work on other (mostly non-writing) projects in the meanwhile. And I've never felt so empty!

This week, I pulled out my story notebook and my special stash of writing pencils. It's not coming as quickly as that first draft of my first novel, but I'm making progress. And when I'm finished "pouring concrete" and I get to polish the sidewalk, I'm sure I'll find that this path is more beautiful than the first.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a "sidewalk" to construct!

What a Weekend!!

I had the most fabulous time at Jason F. Wright's "Some Day" One Day Writing Workshop on Saturday, and I'm still bubbly and bouncy over the whole experience two days later!

The workshop was absolutely amazing! The other attendees were friendly and fun, and everyone had his or her own voice. We heard some great writing samples throughout the course of the day, centered around a "car accident" we created in the conference room. (Jason had 3 of our group act out a quick 5-minute skit, which we then all wrote about later - to illustrate the way we can each take the same basic information and everyone will give it a different twist.) And Jason offered great insights into the publishing process, from his own experiences in seeking out an agent and a publisher for the first time, and wonderful, helpful hints on the writing process. ("Pouring Concrete" might just get its very own blog entry later!)

Skype calls with Heidi Taylor (Shadow Mountain Publishing), Sarah McLellan (Folio Literary Management) and Matt Birch (Matt Birch Public Relations) were fascinating and informative. They answered questions about the whole publishing process, from "How do you know when you're ready to start submitting your manuscript?" ("When it's as perfect as you can possibly get it.") to "How involved should I be, as the author, in marketing and publicizing my own book?" ("The more involved, the better!")

But the best parts of the day were things that only matter to me. Little, fairly insignificant things that no one else would notice, but which touched me personally. Jason would call them "Seventeen Second Miracles" (and if you haven't read his book by that title, I urge you to do so!) - I just call them life.

If you know me (or if you've read any of my previous posts), you know I firmly believe in daily miracles. Angels walk among us, without wings, in the form of our friends, family, coworkers and even total strangers. Heavenly Father answers prayers in very significant ways through the little, insignificant moments we tend to overlook when we aren't watching.

So the moments that mattered most to me:
* When Jason emailed a reply to my registration request and told me he was looking forward to seeing a friend! (It probably took 2 seconds, and I doubt he thought twice about it, but isn't it wonderful when someone you don't see often takes a moment to say "I'm glad you're my friend" - and you know they really mean it?)
* When Beth pulled me aside during our first break to say she thought my novel sounded interesting and we exchanged email addresses so we could keep in contact and send each other samples for critique. I desperately wanted to approach my fellow writers, but my fears had taken over, and I was once again standing off to the side, only talking to Jason (since he was the only one I knew coming into the workshop). Beth broke the ice, and made it okay for me to join the group!
* When Jason read my writing exercise aloud and stopped to point out how much he liked my one-sentence paragraph. I do that from time to time, when a thought needs some emphasis. Mostly because it just comes naturally to me. That's the way I talk. But as I'm preparing to send my first manuscript out into the scary publishing world, I began to wonder if that quirk would be off-putting. I felt like doing cartwheels through the conference room when he said it was a good thing! :)
* When Matt Birch ended his conference call with the advice: "It may be frustrating. People may even be very rude to you. But don't give up. Someone will care." My closest friends (and those who were there Saturday, because I mentioned it afterward) know that the most crippling criticism I've received so far was last year, when I submitted my novel to a major contest. The reviewer's response to my story I was so proud of? "No one in their right mind would ever care about a character like the one in this story!" Harsh, rude, and very disheartening. In tears, I set the manuscript aside and almost decided I wasn't cut out to be a writer at all (until my friend's wonderful son asked me to write a story just for him - but that's another blog post altogether...) But when Matt Birch announced "Someone will care!" it felt like a direct response to that horrible reviewer. He could have chosen many other ways to phrase the sentiment, but he chose the words I needed most to hear!

Does This Make You Want to Read More?

Alaina Andersen is witty, warm and wonderful. Her best friend, Jarod, worships her, and everyone knows it but Alaina. The most popular boys at Southbrook High School want to date her, but she thinks that they are only teasing. When Alaina looks in the mirror, she doesn’t see the popular, playful and pretty girl that all of the other girls long to be. She sees a shy, unattractive band geek who has never had a real boyfriend and can’t find the courage to try out for the school play. As she compares her biggest weaknesses with her friends’ greatest strengths, Alaina fears that she will never measure up.

If only she could win the heart of Shane Crawford, her “Perfect Prince Charming!” He is tall, dark and handsome, with hypnotic blue eyes and a smile that could melt glaciers, and Alaina knew the moment she saw him that he was the White Knight she had been waiting for. She is certain that Shane holds that magical key to unlock her inner worth.

Alaina has read enough fairy tales to know that a magical kiss from the prince can work miracles, and she has felt like a frog for far too long! But in the real world, kisses aren’t always magical and princes aren’t always perfectly charming. Eventually, Alaina must learn to create her own enchantments by looking for the beauty she has buried within.

Dreaming with a Deadline

Wish me luck! I'm going to go for it! I've decided that I'm going to enter Amazon's Breakthrough Novel Award contest for a chance to win a publishing contract! All I have to do is write a 300-word Pitch to submit along with my manuscript.

Easy as pie, right???

Well, not quite. I mean, I can write 300 words with no problem. Compared to an 85,000-word novel, 300 words is a mere drop in the bucket. The difficulty comes in knowing exactly what kind of "drop" to submit to that bucket!!

Have you ever tried to condense an 85,000-word story into a 300-word soundbite? Knowing that they won't even look at the manuscripts unless you make the first cut based on this 300-word Pitch doesn't help either. Yikes! This has to be an amazing 300 words!

The contest closes on February 7th or when they reach 5000 submissions, whichever comes first. Which means that I'm frantically creating on a deadline here - something that I never thought that I would do! I have this fear that I'm going to create the perfect entry and then find that I'm the 5001st person to submit my manuscript, which would be crushing, wouldn't it?

So I'm determined to get my Pitch written this morning so that I can send it off to my "creative consultant" by lunchtime. Then, he can rip it to shreds and make me feel like I have no business dreaming of publication until I stop feeling sorry for myself, realize that he's right and rework my Pitch into something worthy of submission.

Wish me luck! And be prepared to vote for me :)

Standing on the Edge, Working up the Nerve to Jump!

Fear is a powerful thing, isn't it?

Why is that?

I have an intense fear of snakes. Every time I walk past tall grass, a pile of leaves, large bushes, or something of the sort, I am simply certain that a snake is hiding in there, just waiting for me to let my guard down so that it can strike. I used to always make sure, when hiking, that I was the last one in line on the trail. I figured that the person in front would be the one to see the snake, and I would have ample warning to get out of the way before I ever got close. Then, I started to wonder. What if that snake just sits there in hiding and lets everyone else go by because he's waiting just to bite me?

Crazy, right?

Of course it's crazy! I know it's silly. The snakes and I have never been introduced. They don't know who I am or what I look like. They don't know I live in mortal terror. They don't know that I once heard my friend talk about how her cat had brought a live snake into the house and she found it in her bathroom, and since then my cats have not been allowed to set foot outside the house and I still always check behind the toilet before sitting down. Snakes don't know these things. And they don't have a vendetta against me! I have nothing to be afraid of. I'm still terrified.

I know that my fear of snakes is irrational, unfounded and a little bit silly. I try to remember that, and I don't let it beat me. I still go for long walks in the woods. I walk past the large, low bushes in my front yard every day without hesitation (though I do always glance underneath them, just to make sure). Of course, I let my husband take the kids to the reptile house at the zoo, but when Daddy wasn't there and the kids wanted to pet the boa constrictor when the zookeeper invited them forward, I bravely stepped forward and helped them gently pet it. I know that I can't live my life directed by something as silly as fear!

But then, I do.

I have this dream of being a published author. I keep writing (and rewriting) books and stories, and everyone tells me that I have talent. All through school, my classmates, my professors, those who read my pieces in the college literary magazine or the small-town newspaper I wrote for... everyone told me "You have a gift. You should do this professionally." To which I would instantly reply, "Well, of course! Look for my name on the bookstore shelves in the near future." I was going to be the next big thing. I was going to be famous. I was going to have a whole shelf full of books that I wrote. I was going to see the world on my book signing tour!

And then I stopped to think about it.

What if????

What if I'm not as good as I think I am? What if I don't have a story to tell? What if they don't like me? What if they say 'get out of here, kid, you've got no talent'? What if I fail?????

Well, you can't fail if you never try, right? So I didn't. I pushed my dream of writing aside and concentrated on my real job: being a mother. That was something that I knew I was good at. I knew I could do it. And it was scary, but it wasn't terrifying. I stopped saying "I want to be a published author" and started saying "Yeah, I used to think that I would do that, but it's not really a very realistic dream..." And I was happy with my decision. Mostly. But in the back of my mind, I knew that you really can fail if you never try. In fact, you do fail. Every time.

A couple of years ago, I heard Jason Wright (http://jasonfwright.blogspot.com/) speak, and I was inspired. I don't even remember what he said, but as I sat there listening to him, I just kept thinking, "If he can do this, so can I!" I rushed home, dug out the pencils that I had collected to write my first novel with, sharpened the first one and started to write.

That first novel simply flowed out of my pencil and onto the page. In less than a month, I had a completed first draft. And after a year and a half of rewriting and revision, I am again getting rave reviews. My novel is ready to submit to a publisher!!

Hooray! I conquered my fear! I did it!!!

Except......

Now comes the really scary part! I have to actually send my manuscript to agents and editors and People Who Know What They're Doing!! Cue the voices in my head: What if they don't like it? What if they laugh? What if they say 'get out of here kid, you've got no talent'? I just don't think I can take that kind of rejection! (Yes, I do feel like I'm channelling George McFly.)

Remember what I said about fear being silly? Irrational? Pointless?

Yeah, so do I.

This fear is just as silly as my belief that the snakes are waiting in ambush to bite just me while letting the rest of the world go by unharmed. All of the agents and editors of the world are not lying in wait to crush my dreams. They don't even know me. And some might not like my novel. But some of them might. And I'll never know unless I try.

So this morning, I find myself poised on the edge of the cliff, looking down. I'm going to jump! And I'll just have to trust that these wings I've constructed for myself will carry me up to the heavens...

My novel is ready for a publisher!!

After months of anticipation, I am pleased to announce that I have finished writing and revising my novel, and I am ready to start shopping for a publisher!! I am going to start sending off query letters today. I'm posting my query here for your consideration as well. If you were a publishing agent, would this make you want to read my book??

Dear __________,
I suspect that we never truly see ourselves. We grossly undervalue our own qualities as we compare our own weakest traits to the strongest traits of our friends and acquaintances. Hello, My Name is Alaina is a 70,830-word novel about one amazing young lady who simply cannot see how terrific she is.

Alaina Andersen is beautiful, smart and funny. She is one of the most popular girls at Southbrook high school. When she looks in the mirror, however, all that she can see are her flaws. In her quest to be the perfect fairy tale princess, Alaina often feels more like a frog. She is certain that she will never be as popular as her best friend, Kendra, or as stunningly beautiful as her little sister, Andrea. Alaina is afraid that she might never be noticed. However, she knows that a frog can be magically transformed into a beautiful princess with the help of a True Love’s Kiss from the perfect Prince Charming. Shane Crawford has to be that prince. She knew it from the moment they met. What Alaina doesn’t realize is that kisses are only truly magical in fairy tales. In real life, the magic has to come from somewhere else.

I believe that Alaina's story is one that will resonate with a very large audience. After all, who among us hasn't looked into the funhouse mirror of our minds to come up with a distorted view of who we really are, failing to see the potential and great worth that is locked inside?

Thank you for your time and consideration. I look forward to hearing from you.

Sincerely,
Veronica Bartles

What do you think? Did I catch your attention? Are you anxiously waiting to read Alaina's story? (Will this be the next "Twilight"-like craze???) They say that the query letter is just as important in the publishing process as the actual story, so I really would appreciate any input you have to offer! Thanks everyone!

Veronica Bartles is...

I was asked to write a profile on myself for our ward newsletter (for church). They wanted to use the Relief Society column to introduce me this month, since I am the newest member of the presidency, and as a new member to the ward, many people don't even know who I am. Have you ever tried to write an article about yourself? It's rough!! Of course, I didn't want to sound like I was bragging, but at the same time, I didn't want to sell myself short! After chatting with my Aunt for a few minutes (Thank you so much, Aunt Becky! You saved my sanity this morning!), this is what I came up with.....

Veronica Bartles is “supermom.” At least, she tries. Actually, Veronica was raised by Supermom and has made it her life’s goal to reach the same status as the amazing woman she gets to call Mom. As the second of eight children (four girls and four boys), Veronica had the benefit of being able to watch and learn from her own mother. In fact, Veronica’s mom made the job look so rewarding that Veronica decided as a very young child that she wanted to be A Mom when she grew up! Other dreams have come and gone, but the main dream, the dream of being a Mom, has always been the focus. With four amazing children of her own, Veronica is truly living her dream.
Veronica works hard to be “supermom.” She tries to do all of the things that a real Supermom does, even though she feels like she still has a long way to go. Veronica cooks and sews and scrapbooks. (She is still working on developing talents for cleaning and organizing and helping kids with homework.) Veronica makes jewelry and she is in the process of writing a novel that she hopes to publish within the next year. Veronica even built a bed for her daughter, and now she’s hoping to learn how to make some “real” furniture!
Still, if you were to ask Veronica about herself, she would generally tell you “I’m not very interesting.” Of course, she has a theory about that too. Veronica firmly believes that we never see our true selves. We only see a distorted picture of ourselves, as though through a funhouse mirror. It’s only when we look to others, when we allow them to reflect what they see, that we can appreciate the awesome qualities residing within us. That’s why she is extremely grateful for amazing friends and family, who act as her true mirror on a daily basis, and she is excited to find new opportunities to expand her circle of friends.
Veronica grew up in Wyoming, but she has spent the last seven years in Northern California, where her husband, Phil, was stationed with the Air Force. Although Phil was born in Pennsylvania and lived there until he was five, Veronica has never lived anywhere east of Wyoming before. Their children, Benjamin, Emily, Rebekah and Katherine, had never really experienced snow or cold until moving to Maryland, so this is a new and exciting adventure for the whole family!

Why and What If?

Why is it that when I need it the most, it's the hardest to write in my journal or update my blog? I know that it's easier for me to sort out my confusing thoughts when I write it all down. I know that it's easier to get past my fears when I stop trying to hide from them. I know that my life is better when I take the time to take stock of my hopes and dreams. But I still avoid writing whenever I reach that point where I'm worried or scared or confused. That's when I go into hiding. I retreat into my own private little world of rainbows and bubbles, where everyone loves everyone else, where no one fights or quarrels, where people help and serve each other gladly, where no one suffers or feels pain, where even death is not a scary prospect.

I prefer my own little world. Nothing can get at me there. And it's so easy to retreat into the land of rainbows and bubbles! It's so much more fun to make chocolate chip cookies and cuddle up on the couch with a good book than to acknowledge difficulties and troubles. And really, that's not a bad thing. I'm glad that I have my own little world to escape to.

Most people who know me could tell you that I'm built a little bit backward. I love the fog and the rain. I get depressed on a bright, sunshiney summer day when there isn't a cloud in the sky. Maybe it's because it's so much easier to hide in the mists. Maybe it's because I don't really like to have to shine too much light on reality. I guess that sometimes I forget that you need the sun to make my beautiful rainbows, not just the rain. Maybe I need to embrace reality just a little bit more...

But reality is scary, isn't it?

In my world of rainbows and bubbles, there is no sorrow, no pain. No one would ever willingly hurt another person, not physically, not spiritually, not mentally. In my magical world, there is no worry, no fear... And I can do anything that I set my mind to.

I don't like to step into the harsh light of reality, because then I have to admit that I am terrified. And maybe there are things that I really can't do... And I don't like that feeling.

For the past couple of weeks, since we arrived at our new home here in Maryland, I have been thinking about how blessed I am. I've thought a lot about all of the little things that we generally take for granted in our lives. For instance, we have 3 levels to our home. The T.V., the computer, the board games and the washing machine are all in the basement. All of the bedrooms are upstairs. (Of course, that leaves the kitchen, library and craft room all on the main level, but that's not the point.) This means that I have to go up and down 2 flights of steep steps several times a day - especially right now, as I try to unpack boxes and sort things into their proper places in our new home.

And I can do it! I can climb stairs. This is a major accomplishment for me, as it really wasn't long ago when I couldn't even stand up by myself. Less than 3 years ago, I had to completely relearn how to stand and to walk. And even 6 months ago, I couldn't go down the 3 steps in our house at Beale AFB without holding tight to the handrail. I can't even count the number of times when I fell down that tiny, little set of stairs. But now, I can do it with relative ease.

Of course, I hold tight to the handrails. And I don't try to climb or descend the steps wearing high heels (actually, I did try one time, and I almost fell, so I decided that it wasn't a good idea to try it again!) And I watch my feet to make sure that I'm not going to miss a step. I'm very careful about using stairs, because I know that I do have limitations. Stairs can be kind of scary when you can't feel one leg. But I have come so far! I have made so much progress! There is so much that I can do now that I couldn't do last year!

These are all things to be grateful for. Life is good. I am so blessed. Reality shouldn't be scary.

But it is.

Because, just as I can keep track of my improvements, just as I can measure my progress, I can also very clearly see those areas where I haven't improved. When I start to notice how much better I've gotten at compensating for lack of feeling in my leg, I can't help but realize that I still haven't regained the sensation in that leg. When I think about how well I've been able to catch myself when I have dizzy spells or lose my balance, when I realize that I don't fall down as often as I used to, I have to admit that I still get dizzy and lose my balance just as frequently as I used to.

In my world of rainbows and bubbles, I can think about all of those improvements. I can focus on the fact that I haven't fallen down the stairs, I haven't broken anything, I haven't injured myself in months. These are all happy, upbeat, wonderful things to be grateful for. I like to concentrate on those things.

When I face reality, though, I have to admit the other side as well. Yes, I'm getting better at dealing with my issues. No, the issues aren't going away. I still can't feel my right leg or the fingers on my left hand. And I would probably have to relearn everything all over again if the feeling ever did come back! No, I don't fall over as often. I've gotten really good at catching myself again. But I still have my blackouts, my dizzy spells, my balance issues... and sometimes, that's still really scary.

When we moved here, I decided that I'm not going to have a brain tumor any more. In my own private world, anything can be the way that I need it to be. I decided that it would be much easier to deal with all of those annoying little things if I didn't have to worry about the way everyone else reacts. I'm tired of going to the doctor repeatedly, only to have them tell me that there's nothing they can do but watch it. I feel like I've wasted my day every time I go to these appointments. And I hate the way that people walk on eggshells and treat me like a fragile porcelain doll when they hear about my tumor. I know that I can't really just get rid of the tumor by saying that I don't have it anymore. (If only real life worked that way!) But I figure that, when there's nothing to do to make it better, there's really no reason to keep dwelling on it... and my hope is that I can manage to stop dwelling!

I've only been here for 2 weeks, but so far, I have managed to avoid the subject of medical issues. And it's so wonderfully refreshing to not have to worry about the way people will react! Of course, Phil still has to do all of his inprocessing at Ft. Meade... and I don't know if I'll have to start going to the doctor again... I have a feeling that, if I don't bring up the issue, I'll fall through the cracks. Before you know it, the military might even lose their record of my tumor. After all, it costs much less to not keep sending me to a team of various medical specialists!

This is truly a relief. The prospect of days, weeks even months without doctor's appointments is thrilling!

And it's scary.

Sometimes, my bubbles burst, my rainbows fade, and I can't help wondering: What if? What if something happens that could have been prevented if I had just maintained my regular monthly checkups? What if I get worse? And just as scary: What if they don't forget about my tumor? What if I have to start once again scheduling my entire life around doctor's appointments? What if I never get to plan anything because every spare moment is taken up sitting in a waiting room???

Sometimes, when I'm having a particularly difficult day, when I'm dizzy and can't breathe, when I've blacked out a time or two, when I start to realize that I still feel the same way that I felt back in January of 2006, before my surgery... Sometimes, I get discouraged. Sometimes, I wonder if I will still be around to watch my children grow or to see my grandkids. And sometimes, that's scary.

Not always.

Usually, I am able to remember that life on earth isn't really what it's all about. I have been eternally sealed to my family in the Temple of the Lord, and those bonds are stronger than death. Even if it's not my destiny to live a long life here on the earth, I can still be with my family for all of eternity. My children will always be my children. Phil is stuck with me forever :) This life on earth is just a part of the Lord's whole, big plan.

And my life has been a good one so far. I may not be the perfect mother... but who knows? Maybe I am :) At least, for my own children, I think that I'm probably the right choice. And when I look at my kids, I can see that they are going to be okay. Even if I'm not here to finish raising them, they'll be okay. They know the important things. They know what really matters. And I'm not going anywhere just yet, at any rate!

I guess that's what scares me the most, when I start squinting through the sunshine of reality. I'm not scared of dying, because I know that it will be okay. At times, I think about my death... not that I'm contemplating or planning for death... not that I want it to happen or anything... but sometimes, especially when I'm having one of those difficult health days, I realize that it could be closer than I want to admit. And when that thought occurs to me, I'm filled with a sense of peace and comfort. And for just a moment, I'm not afraid at all. And because I'm human, that lack of fear is sometimes the scariest thing of all... if that makes any sense!

Franklin Roosevelt said that the only thing we have to fear is fear itself. Well, I guess that just goes to prove that I really am built backward. I'm afraid of not being afraid! Still, I will continue to live my days within my rainbows and bubbles world, periodically peeking out into the sunshine for a warm dose of reality... and life will go on. Hopefully, for a long, long time.

Many More Memories...

Remembering is fun! So here is another dose of my biggest memories (both happy and sad) from my first 31 years. Again, I'm trying to go in roughly chronological order, but of course, I can't guarantee that my memory always cooperates....

* Participating in a "food fight" at the Fullmer's house, when Robyn pretended to flip mashed potatoes at her sister and then her sister actually flipped a spoonful of potatoes across the kitchen. Not the messiest of food fights, since only one spoonful of food actually flew, but we all had to clean the kitchen anyway!

* Trying to count all of the horses in Robyn's bedroom and losing count somewhere around 200.

* Learning to sew, kind of, and making my own clothes with Misty Jensen. We were so proud of those clothes and wanted to wear them to school, but our mothers wouldn't let us! (Good thing, since we had used sheer fabric!)

* My dad's pilot lessons - and dreaming of a day when he would be licensed and we would have our own private jet to take on vacation. (Still waiting for that day, dad....)

* Robyn's baptism - it took 9 tries before they got it right!

* My baptism. It was so cool and amazing to share my special day with 2 of my close friends, Shannon & Spencer!

* Being the first student ever to be awarded the Northpark Elementary School Student of the Year award!

* The tragic carnival accident at the Sweetwater County fair that killed my best friend, Robyn. I still can't see a carnival without fighting tears.

* Our trip to Vancouver, Canada for the 1986 World's Fair. - Spending the first night only about 20 miles from home, at Little America - Camping at the campground with a pool filled by hot springs and getting to swim for free when Dad fixed their computer system for them - Falling in love with a really cool concept car that was supposed to be released the year that I turned 16... (It was going to be my first car - but alas, it was never on the market...) - My brief recording career as a backup singer in the group "Bug & the Roaches" as we tried out a recording studio to sing the song "Tomorrow" from Annie - Leaving my brother in Canada (just for about 5 minutes at a park on the border, because he got out of the car and we didn't notice...) - My sister and I getting really tight perms from my cousin who was going to beauty school, and our song that we made up about being "pink poodles"! - To this day, I think this was the most fun I've ever had on a vacation!

* Moving to Santa Maria, California in 4th grade - and losing all of my new friends within the first week of school when I wouldn't choose sides when 2 of them got into a fight.

* My parents surprising us by driving all night long to bring us back to Rock Springs for Christmas, just because they knew how much we missed being "home" for the holidays!

* Moving back to Rock Springs over spring break in 4th grade - and finding that all of my friends had chosen a new best friend while I was gone.

* Sneaking a peek at my notes while taking the quiz on state capitols in 5th grade - and then feeling guilty for years afterward (still).

* Setting my own curriculum in 6th grade. (I had finished all of the elementary school books - even the advanced books - by 5th grade, and the district didn't allow skipping grades, so the teachers had nothing for me in 6th grade. I got to sit all day in the library and teach myself whatever I felt like learning, as long as I did one project a week and turned it in...)

* Sitting in the hall with all of the other 6th grade girls, while our teachers tried to patch up the feud that had been going on between Veronica Cox and "Cara's Group" since I moved back to Rock Springs in the 4th grade. Nothing came of it except for a full afternoon of not doing any school work...

* The school-wide celebration when I graduated from 6th grade - to commemorate the first class of students to attend Northpark Elementary School from Kindergarten all the way through 6th grade.... And Justin passing out while we were filling the helium balloons, because he was sucking the helium out of about every 3rd balloon filled! (I still don't let my kids suck helium out of balloons!)

What Do I Remember Most?

Recently, I read a list that a friend wrote - his top 150 memories from his first 30 years. (Of course, I had to give him a hard time, because I didn't make the list.) Since then, I've been thinking about this concept... What are my biggest memories from my life so far? The good, the bad, pleasant and unpleasant... What events, people, places and ideas have shaped me into the person that I am today? So I decided to make up my own list. I don't know how many memories will make it onto the list, so I'm not going to set a number. But here is what I remember most (in roughly chronological order...)

* Preschool - working as quickly as I could each and every day to color as many pages as possible, so that I could show my mom how much work I was doing in class! (She tells me that this was because she always asked my older sister, Carin, how many pages of work she did in school, and I was competing. I don't remember that, I just remember sitting at the long table with a stack of papers and a pile of crayons, busily working long after all of the other kids had moved on to other things.)

* Eating almost 2 full bottles of Flintstones vitamins with my sister Carin and going to the hospital where they had to induce vomiting. (To this day, the smell of multivitamins turns my stomach!)

* My very first boyfriend, Seth Richards (in preschool & kindergarten). I was going to marry him someday! I was heartbroken when he moved all the way to Green River (12 miles) after kindergarten!!

* Learning how to read. I loved the book "The Fire Cat" and asked my sister to read it to me over and over and over again. Finally, she got tired of it and started skipping words, phrases or whole pages to get through the book faster. I of course, had the book memorized and called her on it. So she taught me how to read so that I could read it to myself.

* North Park Elementary School - The school was completed and the doors opened for classes midway through my kindergarten year. I still remember the excitement as we watched a brand new school being constructed near our house and the thrill of riding the bus from our old school (Desert View) to the new school for the first day of classes!

* Watching Seth and his best friend, Kenny, fight over me on the playground. I thought it was a silly thing to fight about, because it didn't matter who won. Seth was my boyfriend, and Kenny was just annoying. However, I did enjoy the instant fame I got over the fight. Even the big kids (4th, 5th & 6th graders) knew that I was the girl that the boys were fighting over, and I was something of a celebrity for a day or two!

* Mr. Kirtland's magic tricks on Fridays. It was the best thing about kindergarten! We figured out how he did all of the tricks but one - and the M&M's trick still feels like magic to this day!

* My huge crush on my Aunt Becky's boyfriend, Maurice. I didn't want anyone to know about the crush, so I always called him "More Grease" to prove that I didn't like him. And I just couldn't figure out how everyone knew that I liked him anyway....

* Eating 2 big bags of mini marshmallows at Kenny's house and getting sick. (I haven't liked marshmallows since!)

* Drawing a glitter picture for Santa - and then being amazed on Christmas morning when I discovered that Santa had supersized the teddy bear I had helped Grandpa wrap for Grandma because he was so happy with the picture! (We wrapped a 6-inch teddy bear, and Christmas morning, there was a 5-foot teddy bear in a box next to the tree!)

* Eating too much frosting at my kindergarten last-day-of-school party and getting sick (I can't eat frosting to this day, either!)

* Being the first family in the neighborhood to own a trampoline.

* The computer program that my dad wrote for our Apple computer. It was called "The Starting Gate" and it was lots of fun. My sisters and I even got to help with some of the creative aspects of the games!

* Cutting my hair all by myself (well, I made my little sister help with the back where I couldn't reach) - and then getting really upset with Santa, when he thought that I was a boy!!

* Going to QUEST - the program for gifted students - once a week and learning how to draw with a turtle on the computer (what was the name of that program?)

* Playing Oregon Trail in the amazing computer lab where we had enough computers for everyone in class. (And being beyond proud when I discovered that my dad was the one who donated the computers to the school!)

........ Which brings me to 2nd grade.............. This trip down memory lane may take a while!

Who Needs Depth, Anyway?

Okay, so I admit it. I am shallow. But who needs depth, anyway? It's overrated!!

Actually, I am a little bit ashamed to admit it. Well, kind of....

The point is, I am the person who always talks about how looks really don't matter. I am a huge proponent of the idea that beauty truly is found within - that physical appearance is just a shell and not an indicator of real beauty at all. And I really believe that - most of the time.

Phil always laughs at me because I am the worst person in the world for describing a person. When I'm talking about someone and he asks "who is that?" I can tell him, "Oh, she's the person with 4 children who sings alto in the choir and has the great sense of humor. She worries too much, but she loves board games as much as I do, so we really get along well. You know, the kids are friends with her kids, and she told that really funny story about her mom the first time I met her." Yeah, great description - and sometimes, he can figure out who I'm talking about, if I continue talking long enough, or if he happened to actually be present for some of the events that define that particular person in my mind. But my descriptions don't usually help him pick someone out of a crowd!

Conversely, when Phil tries to tell me about someone, and he tells me, "He's 6'4" with light brown wavy hair and hazel eyes," I just stare at him blankly. I almost never know who he's talking about! It's become quite the joke in our household, because I don't ever even notice (so Phil says) the obvious physical characteristics. ("You could have mentioned that he was bald!" "Oh! Ooops! I guess I never noticed.") And really, I don't usually notice.

So I tell myself that I am not a shallow person. I had myself convinced that looks really weren't important to me.

But I admit it. I guess I do dwell on physical appearances. At least, I dwell on my own physical appearance. I'm still the last to notice if my friend gets her hair cut and whacks off 12 inches or if she's 5 months pregnant with a big baby belly or if a guy gains 20 pounds or shaves his head... I guess I'm not very observant.

But in 2006, when I had to take the steroids before and after my brain surgery, and I gained more than 100 pounds in less than a month (going from size 10 jeans to size 18 literally overnight).... Yeah, I noticed that! I still cry when I get dressed in the morning and I see the stretch marks that cover probably 85% of my body. I would be the first in line if they ever brought back those 1920s full-body, long-sleeved, down-to-your-knees bathing suits. And I am painfully aware that the scale in my bedroom seems to have broken, because the numbers just aren't coming down. And I really meant it when I told my doctors that I absolutely refuse to ever take steroids again, no matter what. Nothing is worth going through that kind of reaction again! Yep, when it comes to Veronica, I have trouble seeing past the physical. I don't usually see what lurks beneath the surface....

And I haven't allowed more than one or two pictures of myself in almost 3 years. I hate the idea that there might be evidence to show the way that I look now, post-surgery.

So about a month ago, when I started to interact with friends on Facebook, I realized that I didn't have any good pictures of myself to post on my Facebook profile. I had a choice between old high school senior portraits and the few post-surgery photos that I allowed simply because my kids wanted me to pose for a picture. No brainer! I went with the high school photos! And it's been bugging me ever since. Why should I be ashamed of the way I look? I mean, my appearance doesn't make up who I am, so why should I let it define me?

I finally decided that it was time to have some actual photos taken, to stop being afraid of the "evidence." So I made plans with a friend of mine, Trish Larsen, who is a photographer. I showed her my old high school pictures, and I told her that I would like to take some photos in the same style - just showing me the way that I look now. And yesterday morning, we went to the little park area across from the BX here on base and she took my picture.

Okay, so here is how you know that I really am extremely shallow.... The pictures were amazing! I couldn't wait to post them up on my Facebook profile, because Trish is an absolute magician and made me look gorgeous! And I have been reveling in the praise from friends. In fact, I have been going back to my Facebook page and re-reading the comments over and over again! I feel better about myself now, with these amazing pictures that make people say I'm beautiful, than when I graduated from college with honors after only 3 1/2 years! College degree? No biggie. Building furniture for my daughter's bedroom with no training or tutorials? Okay... A great picture and friends telling me that I'm beautiful? Yeah. That's worth bragging about. That is something special and wonderful. I even caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror while I was getting dressed this morning (whoever designed these stupid base houses with mirrors all along one full wall of the master bedroom is NOT my favorite person in the world, by the way), and it didn't make me cringe. I just thought of the pretty picture I had saved to my computer upstairs, and I smiled. "I'm beautiful."
So, why is it that I can see the beauty that lies within for every other person I know? Why is it that I can glory in this friend's musical ability or that one's artistic talent, but I can't see any value in myself until and unless I am beautiful first?

Sad, maybe a little bit disheartening, not something I'm proud to admit. Yes, I am very shallow. Apparently, I care more about the way I look than about who I am. And I have to admit that my favorite reading material is now the one-line message that an old friend sent to me: "you look amazing..why do you criticize your looks" (I think I've read it about 20 times now!) Why does it matter? It doesn't, I guess. At least, it shouldn't. But I like being beautiful. I guess, deep down inside, I'm just shallow... (But don't you agree that I look good in these pictures?)

I am a Novelist!

At about 2:30 this morning, I finally finished the first full draft of my novel!! Of course, I am extremely biased, but I think it turned out well. I sent the draft to my staff of volunteer proofreaders, so I guess we'll see what everyone thinks...

Right now, I am extremely tired (3 nights in a row of staying up 'til 3:00am working on the novel), but I have a great feeling of accomplishment! The next step (after some creative feedback, and many revisions I'm sure) is to submit it to a publisher - so maybe you'll see my name in print sooner than you thought!!

Tired of the Childish Games

Every time an election comes up, I get more and more discouraged with the state of our government and the choices (or lack thereof) that we are presented with. This year, more than ever, I am irritated, angry, frustrated - but mostly just sad. Why is it that no one can focus on what's good for this country? Instead, we have a bunch of candidates acting like preschoolers! No, it's worse than that. With preschoolers, you can eventually get the kids to "use their nice words" and work out the differences. 9 1/2 times out of 10, you can get them to come up with a solution that actually fixes the problem, instead of continuing to blame each other for the problem.

Not the case with politics! We have gone way beyond "He did it first!" Both candidates, as far as I can tell, have been involved in some shady deals. Both are very much tied to special interest groups and lobbyists - and both are so busy pointing their fingers at the other that NEITHER is willing to take the time to talk about real issues!

As a busy, temporarily "single" mom (less than 3 months until my husband returns!), I haven't had a lot of time to watch the debates and such during this election. However, I have been setting my DVR to record things, and when I get a free moment, I watch this or that part of the debate - or an interview with one of the candidates, etc. I believe in getting as much information as possible about each candidate and each issue, so that I know what the heck I'm voting for when I send in my ballot. So, even though I'm usually a few days behind, I have been watching the coverage.

I'm tempted to stop!

I just watched an interview with Sarah Palin from earlier this week on Fox News. She spent much time talking about how the public had a "right to know" about Obama's connections with this or that individual. She called it "scary" - and she said that, because he was asking us to trust him in the Presidential office, it had to be an issue that was addressed (something like that - I wish I had written down her exact words!) Okay, so maybe she's right. Maybe the public does have a right to know who Obama bumped into when he was walking out of Starbucks on January 10, 1998. Maybe it's even significant that he spilled 5.8 drops of coffee as he tried to hold the door open for this person. (Okay, so I have no idea if Obama even goes to Starbucks - and IT DOESN'T MATTER!!!) Maybe we do need a list of each and every person that Obama has ever done business with or talked to for more than 30 seconds. It could say a lot about his character, right?

Well, here's where the HUGE double standard comes in. Immediately after Sarah Palin explained that the people had a right to know all about Obama's interactions with this particular person, the interviewer asked about McCain's business relationship with another individual. "What would you say about Senator McCain's dealings with...." We, the American people have a right to know, correct? Isn't that just what Palin had just finished saying, regarding Obama? Well, apparently, that only applies to THE OTHER GUY! Sarah Palin's response? "It's really not our place to discuss it. I'm going to decline to comment. I'll leave that up to Senator McCain." Again, not an exact quote. I was just so flabbergasted that she would take the whole "His dealings with that person are nobody's business" approach SECONDS after lambasting Obama for not being more upfront about his dealings with each and every person he may have ever talked to!

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to imply that Obama's campaign is any better. I'm just citing a specific example of the kind of depressing hypocrisy that is running rampant through this campaign! I still say that the first one to stop badmouthing their opponent and grow up will get my vote for president this year!!!

The Novel is Coming Along....

I don't know how long a story has to be before it's considered a "novel" rather than a "short story," but mine is coming along pretty quickly. I am having so much fun with this. It's been too long since I wrote simply for the joy and pleasure of writing! I have even found a publishing company that caters to first-time authors that is NOT a vanity press and doesn't charge any kind of "author fees", so I am hoping to submit my book to them when it is finished.

Which brings me to my question: I think that I would like to have a few friends read the finished draft before I try to submit it for publication. I need people who can be brutally honest with me and help me to iron out all of the kinks, because I am bound and determined to see my book accepted for publication! If you think that you can fill this role for me and would like to volunteer, please do so! Thanks so much to all of you for your encouragement and support so far!

I'm Gonna Go For It!

When I was young, I had two big dreams for myself. I wanted to be a mother, and I wanted to be a famous author. I've always been pretty good with children, and my own mother was such an amazing woman that I just wanted to be a mom like her. She was the original "Supermom" - she sewed clothes for us, she cooked amazing meals (from scratch - she didn't even use a mix to make birthday cakes when I was a little girl!), she volunteered at the school, at church and in the community, and she did it all on virtually no sleep, because she would also stay up half the night cleaning the house so that everything would always look perfect. Well, I have been accused of being "supermom" from time to time, but I'm just not as good at it as my mom was! (No matter how late I stay up or how early I'm out of bed in the morning, my house just never seems to sparkle...) Still, I have 4 amazing children, and they love me and tell me that I am the best mom ever, so I must be doing something right. I always thought that I would have at least 8 kids, like my parents did (I even made a set of 12 matching Christmas stockings so that I would have plenty ready for each child that came along), but I'm beginning to accept that 4 might just be enough. Our family feels complete, and I think I'm okay with my "small" family. So I have accomplished one of my major life goals. Obviously, I can't just check it off of my "to do" list and forget about it, because this is a job that takes work 24 hours a day, 365 days a year - no time off for sick days or holidays. But I have great satisfaction in knowing that I am what I want to be when I grow up.

Except.... I also really want to be a "famous" author. Okay, so maybe I don't really care about fame. I just love to write, and it would be more than amazing to me to see my work on the bookstore shelf someday. When I was growing up, I told everyone that I was going to have something published before I graduated from high school. (I did actually accomplish that goal, kind of. One of my poems was published in an anthology during my senior year of high school, but I wasn't actually paid for it.) I used to enter the state young authors' competition on a regular basis, and I even won 1st place a few times. Teachers, friends, even my siblings used to tell me that I should seriously consider writing as my career, and I would always tell them that I already had chosen that path. I was so certain about my future success that I even presented a few of my friends with my "autograph" and told them to hang onto it as proof that they did, in fact, know me before I was famous. Even in college, my professors would return my papers to me with notations that told me I should continue writing and make it my career. I always just smiled and said, "Of course." There was no doubt that I was going to publish my first book before long.

I don't know exactly where I got sidetracked, but somewhere along the road to my major goal of being a great mother, I neglected my writing goal. I started telling myself that my stories were fine for personal fulfillment and for entertaining my family, but really they weren't good enough for the general public. Slowly but surely, I talked myself out of the goal and told myself that it was enough to be a great mother. I don't ever need to have any of my work published to fulfill my potential. Besides, I wouldn't even know where to begin. And I didn't want to be a "working mom." I enjoy the time I have each and every day with my children (and when would I fit a regular job into our busy schedule??)

This is all true. I don't need to be published. I am happy with who and where I am in life. I enjoy writing and telling my stories just for the enjoyment of it. Still, I've started to think about it a lot lately, and I really think that I am good enough at this to make a career out of it - without sacrificing the time I have to be a mom. In fact, most of the stories that I write are written with my children in mind. They absolutely love it when I come up with new stories to tell - especially when the story is a true story from when I was young.

So, I still don't know how to get started. I have no clue about the whole publishing process. How do you go about submitting your work anyway? (My poem in high school, I think, was submitted through the Young Author's competition and simply selected for the anthology.) I don't know. That is something I guess I will just have to find out about. But I am not going to make excuses for myself any more. I am just going to go for it!!

I have one children's book that I wrote when Ben was 3 years old, and my kids absolutely love this story. I've told the story to some of their friends too, and every child who has ever heard this story has loved it. I think I will start there. (Anyone know how you would go about getting a children's picture book published? Do I have to have the story illustrated before I submit it, or would the publisher find an illustrator to pair me up with? Where would I find a publisher in the first place? What is the process for submission? These are all questions that I need to answer...)

I'm not going to settle for just that, though. For the past couple of weeks, as I have been reading through my old journals and letters, I have come to realize that my life is pretty interesting. (Not trying to sound conceited - just observing.) My children and their friends are always asking me for new stories about things that happened to me - mostly the embarrassing jr. high and high school years. Even my own friends often end up laughing pretty hard when I start telling stories. More than that, there are some gems of wisdom to be discovered among some of the things that I have experienced (or helped friends through). I have been toying with the idea of writing a novel (or two or three) based on the experiences, thoughts, fears, hopes, dreams, wishes and devastations that I have recorded on these many spiral notebooks. I have been wondering whether or not it would be interesting to anyone but me, whether this could be my great accomplishment.

Well, a couple of nights ago, I wound up chatting online with one of my best friends from high school. We haven't been great about keeping in touch over the years, so we had a lot of catching up to do. We started reminiscing about the old days, and I was laughing right out loud as I remembered myself through someone else's eyes. I started again to think about maybe turning all of this old "high school drama" into my great American novel. Then, as we talked about the direction our lives had taken us, and admitted that neither of us would trade what we have now for what we thought we wanted back in the day, he told me that I really should write a book based on my old diaries. Then, of course, he proceeded to tell me exactly how he should be portrayed in my new book. We'll have to see about that, but I am going to write it.

Of course (here's the disclaimer), this will be a work of FICTION!! Everyone in the story (including "me") will be a composite character. I couldn't work everyone into one story if I tried, so I will combine qualities that I remember from 4 or 5 people at a time into each character. (Those of you who knew me back in the day may see yourself or someone you know, but some of my friends' qualities are divided between 2 or 3 different characters in my story. Didn't want to make anyone too familiar!!) And I reserve the right to give myself whatever qualities I choose, or even to become a minor character in the background of the story if it goes in that direction, by the way. There will be events in this story that actually happened, events that are representative of a combination of actual events, events that I wished would actually happen, events that I was afraid would happen and even some events that only ever occurred in my dreams/nightmares!! Hopefully, it will become something that will be a fun story to read as just a pure work of fiction, a hilarious trip down memory lane for those of you who walked the path with me on this part of the journey, a reminder that we are more than we believe ourselves to be and a recognition that each person who enters our lives blesses us with a little part of who we become, even if the encounter is a painful one. Just don't assume too much. This isn't an expose. When (notice, I said when not if) this book is published, you can read it with confidence, knowing that even though it might be based on real events, most of the things that happen in my story didn't actually happen that way in real life. (I reserve the right to throw in one or two events as they actually occurred - just to keep everyone guessing!!)

So wish me luck! Pray for me! Any encouragement you wish to offer will be greatly appreciated, as I know I will go through valleys where I doubt the wisdom of this endeavor. Any stories that you remember (about me or not) from those jr. high/high school years would be appreciated too. Who knows? Your stories might also make it into my book!

Flashback to 1993!

Wow! I guess that things don't change much over time, do they? I've been so pleased with myself lately for coming to the realization that it's impossible to recognize ourselves as we really are (see my theory about that on the post from earlier today). I guess I've been thinking about it longer than a few months, though.... From an entry in my Diary (Monday, March 8, 1993):

"Ya know, I just thought of something... Why is it that we can never recognize our own voice when we hear it on tape, but we always assume it's our own face we see when we look in the mirror? And what if the color red to me looks like the color blue looks to someone else? How could you ever know? Just think, I could see myself as someone completely opposite of how everyone else sees me? Maybe that's the problem..."

I guess I've had glimmers of my theory of self-perception for years, just not in the concrete terms I've been thinking in the last little while... (Thanks again, Colby, for making me want to read through these old notes and journals again!! What a trip!)

My Theory of Self-Perception

Wait! Stop! If I have asked you to help me out with my theory by writing a description of me as you see me, please write the description before you read this! (Otherwise, your response might be influenced by what you read!!) If you have already completed your description, then here is the explanation I promised you. I realized that it might be difficult to email this long and convoluted theory to everyone, so I figured this way you can read it at your leisure while being seranaded by my wonderful playlist of my life's theme songs....

Oh! And if you have no idea what I'm talking about here, that means I probably don't have an email address or anything for you, because I've been requesting help from virtually everyone who has ever met me! If you would like to participate, I would love your help - I'm asking everyone to describe me as if you were explaining who "Veronica" is to someone who has never met me. This includes physical characteristics, personality traits, annoying habits, irritating qualities, even your impression of our relationship... The good, the bad and the ugly! Please don't sugarcoat anything or try to be nice - just hard, honest opinions. You can email me or post a comment here with your response (or, you can send me a message on Facebook - I check that regularly too). Thanks so much for your help, everyone!!!

And now, without further ado...

My Theory of Self-Perception!

I suspect that we never see ourselves the way other people see us. (Okay, I admit, that’s kind of a “duh!” statement, isn’t it?) We always grossly undervalue ourselves as we compare our weakest traits with the strongest traits of those around us. Thus, our self-image is never entirely accurate. Further, our perceptions of other people reflect the way we see ourselves, and we assign motivation to others’ actions based on the way that we see ourselves. In other words, what we think that other people think of us and the way we react to other people is based on the way we see ourselves and has nothing really to do with the way people actually see us. Okay, this is harder to explain than I thought. It all makes sense in my mind – let’s see if I can figure out how to express it…. (I wish I’d had a recorder going the other night when I was explaining my theory to my friend on the phone – it all came out clearly then…..)

Hmmm…. I guess the only way to really describe what I’m thinking is by making it really personal. I know how I think about myself. I could sit down and give you a detailed description of who I am – from physical appearance to talents and abilities to personality traits and even a full analysis of how much other people like to be around me. This mental picture of myself determines the way that I act in various social settings. This, in turn, influences the way that other people are able to interact with me. I shape my relationships with other people based on what I believe a relationship with “someone like me” should be.

However, my mental picture rarely matches up with (and is often the exact opposite of) what other people actually see, and I suspect that my friends and acquaintances see the relationships based on differing perceptions. In other words, I don’t see the same kind of relationship between myself and a friend as that particular friend sees between us. We have, in essence, 2 very different relationships within the same friendship, based on point of view. (My relationship with you is not the same as your relationship with me.) My theory is that the conflicts we have in life rise from the fact that we are living our lives in “one-sided” relationships that only sometimes intersect, and because we have the tendency to assume that our relationships have 2 sides to them, we are surprised/irritated/saddened when the other party suddenly doesn’t act as if he/she is in the same relationship that we are in. (The truth is, they’re not.)

For instance, I have always been very self-conscious of my body. I started developing early in the 4th grade, and I was wearing a bra before any of my friends. By 8th grade, I was wearing a D cup, and I felt like I really “stuck out” in a crowd (pardon the pun)!! It didn’t help when I would hear people talk about how “unrealistic” and “degrading” a Barbie doll was because of her massive chest and tiny waist. I used to hear people talk about what Barbie’s measurements would be if she were life-sized and how much of a freak she would be – and then I would go home and cry my eyes out because, if the proportions quoted were accurate, my waist and hips matched Barbie’s. The only difference? My chest was bigger!!! (I determined then and there that my daughters would someday have lots of Barbie dolls to play with!!!) Anyway, I have always been so conscious of my body that it’s hard to imagine anyone else noticing my other qualities. I didn’t date much in high school because I could never find anyone who cared at all about my personality or my intellect. I’m beginning to wonder if my own perception of myself as “too voluptuous” didn’t just translate into the way I assumed everyone else saw me too. Were there guys who would have dated me in high school? Maybe there were. Maybe they even would have been interested in a real relationship where we could have an intelligent conversation. Maybe I just didn’t see it. Maybe I didn’t have to spend so many lonely nights…

On the other hand, I have always been “the smart one” while Carin was “the pretty one” and Angie was “the popular one” and Sheryl was “the artistic one.” (Carin, Angie and Sheryl are my 3 sisters.) I was reading before I started Kindergarten (Carin was a really good teacher), and as far back as I can remember, I knew that I was “super smart.” At first, it was really cool, but then I started to suspect that it was the only thing I would ever be remembered for. I knew that smart = nerdy and geeky, so I wasn’t surprised when I never had any really close friends. Who wants to hang out with the class geek on a Friday night? Whenever I was in a group of people and they started making plans for the weekend, I would quietly slip away and find a quiet place to cry (I still do that, actually), because I knew I wouldn’t be invited along. Every once in a while, I would “get desperate” and “invite myself along” – and I always had tons of fun! We would end up laughing the entire time! Then, I would come home and (more often than not), I would cry myself to sleep wondering what jokes were being made at my expense once I was safely out of earshot. (I still do that too, come to think of it.) Now, I wonder whether my perception of myself as a geek is all that accurate. Were (are) they really just laughing at me, or were they actually laughing with me and enjoying my company? Was I really forcing myself into the group when I “invited myself along” or were those merely the times that I didn’t turn away from the implied invitation that everyone else thought I already understood???

It might seem odd that I have simultaneous fears that I would be noticed only for my brain or only for my mind. Okay, it is odd. I guess I don’t have an explanation for that one. The only thing that I can say is that I have always had kind of a clear division in my mind about who I am in which situation. When I was with guys that I was attracted to, I was certain that the only thing that I had to offer was my body. (And since I wasn’t willing to actually offer that, I figured that I was out of luck.) With family members, girls or any guys that are “just friends” I always feel like that geeky nerd that everyone loves to make fun of. I have always felt that I might never have any real friends because none of the “cool kids” ever wants to hang out with the “geek!”

At the same time, I’ve always been “the good little girl.” I have an intense desire to be “perfect” in everything that I do. I decided years ago that I had to always do the right thing and I couldn’t slip up. I want to be the best I can possibly be in every aspect of everything I try. Of course, it only makes sense to me that everyone else would have the same desire, so I try to always help my friends and family members see their wonderful qualities and to reach their full potential. I like to try to point out the good in everyone and help them to recognize their strengths. I often wonder why people sometimes act like they think I won’t forgive them for little (sometimes big) mistakes. Why would I hold a grudge against someone just because they aren’t perfect? Well, is it possible that in my quest to obtain perfection for myself, I give off a vibe that says nothing less than “perfect” is acceptable to me? That would be awfully intimidating, wouldn’t it? It could explain why my children get so upset when I try to offer correction…

Honestly, for years, it never occurred to me that other people might see me in a different light than the one in which I see myself. But a few years ago, I had an experience that really got me wondering. I had my 10-year class reunion coming up, and I decided that I absolutely had to be there. To tell the truth, I didn’t expect anyone to remember me. I anticipated a weekend of standing “all by myself” in a corner, watching all of the “cool kids” reminisce about the days of yore. However, I absolutely had to be there, because I remembered a friend from high school, Sean Andersen, telling me one day that it didn’t matter if I couldn’t find anyone to date me because at our 10-year class reunion, I would show up with my perfect husband and 4 kids, and I would still look absolutely amazing, and all of the pretty, popular girls would be jealous while all of the guys who wouldn’t give me the time of day would be kicking themselves over what they let slip away. Well, as the time approached for the reunion, I realized that I had a pretty amazing husband who treats me like a queen and 4 very beautiful children. What’s more, I was wearing the same size jeans that I wore in high school. So of course, I had to go “get my revenge!” I figured that, even though I would spend the entire time “by myself” I could be smug about the fact that I got everything I was supposed to have!! I warned Phil, my husband, that we probably wouldn’t have anyone but each other to talk to, then I bought the tickets and we made the trip.

Imagine my surprise when we walked in the door and the first person I saw not only recognized me but wanted to actually talk to me!! Repeatedly, throughout the weekend, friends approached me to reminisce about the high school years and to catch up on the 10 years or so since we had last seen each other. At first, I just chalked it up to the fact that you’re supposed to be nostalgic at class reunions. But then, something very strange happened. People started telling Phil, “Your wife was the most popular girl in our entire class. Everyone wanted to be her friend, and we always wanted to be the lucky ones that got to go out and do things with her or to hang out at her house.” (I always thought that people were coming over to see my sisters….) I left the reunion in a state of shock. Could it be that I’m not the social leper I always thought I was? Could it be that when I thought I was being excluded from the fun, my friends thought that I must have other plans with someone else? Could it be that I wasted so many tears and sleepless nights?? Ultimately, I decided that I must have just imagined the reunion experience. I just wanted to be popular so badly that I created a delusion for the weekend. After all, who would ever think that some geeky girl whose only redeeming quality was a good body could ever possibly be one of the most popular girls in school?

That might be the end of the story, if it weren’t for my children.

My son, Benjamin, is 10 this year, and he is the most popular kid I have ever known. This kid makes friends so easily that I am amazed. We can be walking through Wal-Mart and he will see someone his age and strike up a conversation. Before we make it down the aisle, invariably his “new friend” is begging mommy or daddy to get our phone number so that they can get together sometime! Ben makes this whole friend thing seem absolutely effortless! In fact, in 1st grade, I had to sit him down and have a discussion with him about treating people with kindness when I heard from the other moms in the class that their kids were coming home and asking to look at the calendar so that they could find out how many days it was until the day that Ben agreed to play with them at recess. (I explained to him that sometimes he could play with more than one friend at a time at recess, and that mostly solved the problem. He was only scheduled a week in advance, and I guess the other kids were okay with that.) I look at him and think, “This kid will never be lonely. He will always have more friends than he can make time for!”

My daughter, Emily (who turned 8 this year), isn’t quite as outgoing as Ben is, but she consistently has a small group of friends that she hangs out with. Being in the military, she often has to say goodbye when one of her small group of friends moves away, but at the same time, she is usually first to make friends with the new kids, and so her circle of friends stays pretty consistent in number. I think it is absolutely amazing that, even though she is incredibly shy and reserved, she can reach out to people like that and make lasting friendships.

Rebekah and Katherine (6 and 4, respectively) constantly have other kids seeking them out. They walk into a room, and it’s like everyone has just been waiting for them to arrive. “Becky Bartles! Becky Bartles! Sit by me!” “Hey! It’s Katherine!! I want to sit by Katherine!!” As I watch these two little ones, I’m sure I’ll never have to worry about them being lonely, even if we have to move regularly with the military. (Actually, we’re moving for the first time in 7 years this January, but we could end up moving more frequently… You never know with the Air Force!)

Anyway, my point is that I watch my children and wonder how I will ever relate to any of their issues as they grow up. How could the girl who never had any friends, the girl who couldn’t get a single guy to date her all through high school, the girl who cried herself to sleep more often than not ever possibly understand the difficulties that arise from having too many friends? What advice will I give my daughters, for instance, when they have to choose which of the 4 or 5 guys that have asked them to Prom to say yes to? (I still wish I’d had the opportunity to go to my Prom!!!) I feel like an ugly little caterpillar compared to these social butterflies!!!
So imagine my absolute SHOCK when I found Benjamin in his room, crying because he didn’t have any friends!!!! He honestly believed that no one really wanted to play with him at recess, and they must be laughing at him because he is shorter than the rest of them! After I picked myself up off the floor, I comforted him the best way I could. We talked about all of the friends he does have, and he made quite a list. Still, as I walked away, I wasn’t really sure that I was able to convince him of what I see. I don’t think he realizes how popular he is, and how much all of the other kids enjoy spending time with him. He has convinced himself that he isn’t athletic and that he’s too small, so he is sure that the other kids don’t want him to join in their games. Yet, everywhere we go, we see someone that is beyond excited to see him – obviously, the kid has friends!!!

It’s really made me think. All along, I have been telling myself that who I am really depends upon how other people see me. But maybe the opposite is really true. Maybe the way that I see myself determines the way that I perceive others’ impression of me. If that’s true, then I have no need to ever be lonely again. All of my lonely moments may just be my own fault (gasp)! Maybe I don't need to be sad about my lonely adolescent years. Instead, I need to re-evaluate what really happened during those years and realize that maybe I wasn't as alone as I thought I was. Maybe we all define ourselves according to some ridiculous and impossible standard and then imagine that everyone else sees only those qualities we see in the fun-house mirror we insist upon standing in front of!!! Maybe we need to step back and take a look through the window instead.

I Wonder.....

So, thanks to Colby, I have been having tons of fun this week, reading through my old journals and notes and letters from Jr. High and High School. I was "truly in love" with a different guy each week, it seems! It really makes me giggle and smile to see how silly the drama was. I can't believe some of the things that I got so worked up about!!

At the same time, it makes me kind of sad. I wasted a lot of my adolescent years finding fault with every aspect of myself, and I spent a lot of time explaining to myself why I was so disliked and truly hated by everyone I knew. I didn't ever have a boyfriend in high school. (In fact, I only went on a handful of dates before I graduated!) I was absolutely convinced that it was because there really wasn't anything to like about me. I could sit and write in my journal for hours, listing all of my wonderful and amazing qualities, and then debunking each and every one of them!

Now, as I read through these old journals and letters, I can see that I was really missing a lot of the picture of who I really was. I was pretty amazing, and I really had a lot of good friends who stuck by me through some really difficult and trying times. But the really sad thing is that I have noticed that I still often do the same thing to myself that I used to do back then. Whenever I start to recognize and appreciate the wonderful qualities that I possess, some little part of me kicks into gear and picks apart all of my talents until I'm left with a big lot of nothing. Countless times, throughout my teenage years, I wrote with amazement and wonder because somebody said hi to me or invited me to go somewhere or do something with them. I never could believe that it was really because they enjoyed my company, and so I always analyzed, reanalyzed and over-analyzed the situation until I could come up with a rational excuse for why they "really" wanted me along. (If we took my car, I knew that I was invited just because my car was big enough to hold everyone. If we spent the entire evening laughing and having a great time, I just knew that everyone was secretly laughing at me and making fun....)

I still do it. A few weeks ago, I went to Sacramento with some friends to a Time Out for Women event. We left our kids and husbands at home (those of us whose husbands are overseas or something got babysitters), and we had 2 days of fun "girl time." This was in the planning stages for months! Originally, I wasn't even going to think about going, because I knew that it would be difficult to find an overnight babysitter for my kids while Phil is overseas. But my friends worked long and hard to convince me that I needed to go along. I had SIX different friends working on me, repeatedly inviting me along and telling me that I just had to go because we would have so much fun! Finally, I realized that I really did need a break from "mommy time" and that it would be really fun to spend two whole days with so many friends who obviously enjoyed my company enough to make sure I was coming along!! And it really was tons of fun! We stayed up until almost 3:00 in the morning, giving each other pedicures and laughing and giggling and just acting like teenagers. Then, we settled down and everyone went to bed (we had to be up again by 6:00 for the second day of the conference!) - and I spent the rest of the night quietly crying to myself, because for some reason, I was certain that no one really wanted me there. I even told myself that they had only invited me along because they needed me to help with the cost of the hotel room!!!! Now, of course, I know that is completely untrue. It really doesn't make a whole lot of sense, logically. Still, I can give all kinds of "evidence" that "proves" my theory..... Just like I did in high school....

For years, I have looked back on my adolescent years and thought about how sad it was that I spent so much of my life "alone" - I was sure that I was the most unpopular kid in my class. Then, I went to my 10-year high school reunion a couple of years ago. I went, by the way, because way back in high school, a friend of mine (Sean Andersen) told me that I shouldn't worry about not finding a guy willing to date me, because at our 10-year class reunion, I would show up with my perfect husband and 4 children, and I would still have a phenomenal figure and look absolutely amazing. Well, as luck would have it, in 2005, my husband (who is madly in love with me) was just back from a year-long tour in Korea, and I had 4 beautiful, amazing children - AND I was wearing the same size jeans that I wore in high school, and I looked good!! So when I heard about the reunion, of course, I had to go fulfill Sean's prophesy!! (Too bad I didn't see him there.....)

Anyway, I went to this reunion, and I introduced my husband to all of my old high school acquaintances. I was extremely shocked and amazed to find that so many people remembered me! In fact, there were even a couple of people who came over to reminisce with me that I didn't even remember..... The thing that really got me, though, was that several of these people informed Phil that I was "the most popular girl in our class" and that "everyone wanted to be [my] friend"!! Why didn't I remember it that way? What was I missing?

It really has me wondering: I know how I saw myself in high school.... I wonder how other people saw me? And I know how I see myself now.... Is that really an accurate picture of who I am????

So, my question is (and feel free to post your honest comments - good or bad - I'm on a mission of self-discovery here).... Who is Veronica? If you were to describe me to a total stranger, what would you say about me? Thanks in advance for your input!! I hope to hear from you all really soon!!!!!