My Daughter Went Back To School Today, Do dah, Do dah!

Forget Christmas, THIS is the best time of year. Back to school! No more, "I'm bored," every fifteen minutes. I try to focus on my child and enjoy each moment with her, especially now that she seems to grow even faster, but by the beginning of August we're both tired of each other. She thinks I'm dull (don't all thirteen year olds feel that way?) and I think she's whiny. No matter how many times we play Uno or go for walks or do an art project together, there's still this level of weariness neither of us are any good at covering up.

I think the fact that my daughter gets tired of me is a good thing, actually. She is growing up and eager to explore her own life with her own friends. No tween wants to spend months with their Mom, even a tween with disabilities. The fact she is ready to go back to school with hardly a glance back at me when I dropped her at her classroom is a good thing (regardless of how teary eyed I got while walking away from Jr. High. Jr. High! Not Elementary... Jr. High! sob).

So today she went back to school and I can get back to work. I have a stack of Medusa mail and tasks that have been waiting for two weeks as well as a desk so disorganized I doubt I could find any of those tasks to begin with. My hands still hurt, so I'll have to pace myself (a quick thank you to Maggie for her advice about managing Repetitive Stress Disorder). It will take me a few days to get back in the zone of managing Medusa's Muse, editing the Business Book and the Punk Book, and bugging Tama again for a draft of her novel. Plus there's more Marketing for "Traveling Blind" as well as a couple of invoices to follow up on. Also the website needs updating. And if my Muse decides to get out of bed any time this week, I have a play to finish writing.

I have two weeks before I start Graduate School, time I'd better use getting my files in order, my desk cleared, my to-do list whittled down and my schedule organized.

Ooh, one bit of dorky, exciting news: "Traveling Blind; Life Lessons from Unlikely Teachers" has been teamed up with "Crashing Through: The Extraordinary True Story of the Man Who Dared to See" by Robert Kurson in an Amazon.com's Better Together package. For some reason this makes me super happy (proof that I'm a dork!).

Enough blogging for now. Time to get working.

Summertime Slow Down

It's that wonderful time of year when school is officially out and your children are once again firmly under foot, tripping you at every turn, demanding food, attention, and entertainment. Yes, Summer... when I have zero time to write or be creative. I manage Medusa's Muse five minutes at a time, in between the cries of "I'm bored" and "I'm hungry" from Queen Teen. It makes creating new and interesting posts for my blog a little difficult.

Quick updates: Had a wonderful time visiting my author Tama in her "Den of Chaos" with Queen Teen (and for those who are wondering when her book will be ready, I'm happy to report she is working on it and so far it's fabulous!). I was a little worried the noise and travel would be too much for my daughter, but she jumped right into the din and had a blast. It helps that the Denizens are friendly, outgoing, and patient, giving Queen Teen the time she needed to join in the fun. Eldest even said she was "cool." High praise from regal Eldest.

Laura Fogg will be at the Mendocino Coast Writer's Conference next weekend, taking a memoir workshop and chatting with fellow writers. She's not scheduled to read or speak, but if you run into her, say hello. I'm sure she'd love to talk to you about writing.

The first draft of the Business Book is complete and I'm now revising it, making sure my resources and facts are indeed correct. Next, one of my business teachers from Mendocino College has volunteered to read it and make sure I haven't missed anything important. The book should launch as scheduled this fall (as long as I can stay awake past my daughter's bedtime to get the work done!).

One more University Special Education Program has added "Traveling Blind; Life Lessons from Unlikely Teachers," to their curriculum this Fall. We're all doing the happy dance.

And the Punk book is almost ready as well. I have enough stories collected and can start boasting about the excellent writing and suprising tales. I could use more artwork, so if anyone reading this would like to submit a Punk image (photo, drawing, tattoo, etc), send it to medusasubmits@gmail.com in the body of the email. The book is on schedule and final edits should be complete by this October.

That's the quick version. My posts will be sporadic for the next few weeks, but if you have a question about publishing or Medusa's Muse specifically, please send it to me and I'll do my best to answer.

I'm off to draw an Arthur story with Queen Teen. Although keeping up with my girl full time makes it hard to get work done, I'm having fun hanging out with her. Besides, now that she's thirteen, I count myself lucky she even wants me in the same room.

Happy Summer everyone.

Holidays and Other Time Management Problems

"I decree that there shall be no more school holidays," my Muse announced as she plopped onto the couch. "All this time interruption is giving me a head-ache." She watched me continue typing an email. "You're so far behind, and I fear we will never catch up."

"Probably not. But I've given up on catching up." I turned and looked at her. "Catching up is relative. All anyone can really manage to accomplish is throwing away a completed to-do list, which will be quickly replaced by another. It's a losing battle." Turning back to my computer screen, I said, "To do lists are fascist."

"Says the Queen of the Post-it note to do list."

"Color-coded Post-it note to do list. Don't forget that part."

"Which is pinned to the wall so you can never throw it away."

"Ah, yes. But I so enjoy crumpling up those bits of paper and throwing them across the room."

My Muse picked up the couch pillow, folded her arms around it, and sighed. "But really, what are you going to do?"

I pushed the send button for the email, then turned to look at her again. "About what?" My Muse pointed first to the Post-it note to do list, then my desk where a pile of punk rock stories needed editing, then the computer screen where 22 emails waited to be answered. "Oh. That."

"And you need to start working on your play. The challenge has already started and you've yet to write a single word. If you keep putting it off it only increases your page number quota, and as it is now, you need to complete nine pages a day."

"Nine pages? Is that all? Why I'm sure I can do twelve a day."

My Muse scowled. "Laugh all you want, but these school holidays have got to end. How do other parents manage? All these interruptions from their work; it's criminal."

"You think this is bad? Wait till summer. Then we'll have three-and-a-half months to get behind."

"I'm going on a vacation. You obviously won't be needing me this summer."

I got up and moved to the couch where we sat together silently. Then I said, "She told me she doesn't like Dora the Explorer anymore."

"Ree-ree?"

"Yes. She's loved Dora since the 2nd grade and last night she threw her Dora bath toys out of her bath and said, I hate Dora."

"She is in the sixth grade now."

"I know. And next year she'll be in Jr. High. She's growing up. That's good." I picked up the other pillow and held it against my chest. "Last year it was Madeline. The year before it was Strawberry Shortcake."

"She still likes Arthur."

"Yes, but for how long? Every year she gets bigger and more mature and eventually it will be me she says she doesn't want anymore."

"Preposterous."

"Kids go through that. They hit fourteen and decide they hate their parents."

"And then they realize how much they still need their parents and want to be with them." She touched my knee. "Don't worry. She'll always love you."

I nodded. "I know. And I'm not saying there aren't days I wish she was with her dad or times I want to ship her to her grandparents. Believe me, I'm not one of those Pollyanna parents who can't imagine life without their children. I can, and it'll be great!" I laughed. "But even when I'm tired or stressed or really want to do nothing more than sit at my lap top and work on my play for the next month, I know my daughter's childhood is ending, and that makes me sad. I want to scoop her up in my arms a little longer and forget all about writing."

My Muse sat up straighter. "Mother angst. Beautiful." She looked at me. "You should write that down. At least it will be a little bit of writing. And then I'll stop bothering you about your play."

"No you won't."

"No, I won't. But I'll give it a rest for a few hours."

So I did as she asked. My Muse read this and smiled and true to her word I didn't hear another peep from her about the play for three whole hours.

Mom's don't get sick days.

It's been quite a while since I've posted here. Blame it on the flu mainly, but also blame it on creative exhaustion. After my luxurious stay at a friend's house which got me focused into my own writing and creative energy, I'm back to feeling worn out and creatively fizzled. My Muse doesn't even want to be around me much right now. Who can blame her? I spend all my time figuring out how to squeeze a drop of advertising money from a dry well and revising my inventory and sales spread sheet. I stare at my multi-colored post-it-note to do list and feel nothing but questions. And as always happens when I get in this mood I start asking, am I cut out for this publishing life?

Just like a novelist who stares at her half completed manuscript and bemoans that she can't write, I too feel a loss of direction. What am I doing? Why am I doing this? Why don't just I go out and get a job at Starbucks and stop playing with books? Bad enough I try to write my own, now I think I can publish them? I must be insane!

"Yes, you are definitely insane," my Muse says. She snuck up on me while I was writing the above paragraph and rested one long fingered hand on my right shoulder. "But all artists are insane. What makes you think you're any different?"

"I don't feel much like an artist right now."

"I know. You're tired is all. You have a cold and you've been taking care of your sick daughter and haven't had enough sleep. No reason to shut down production."

"Maybe it is. Maybe I can't do it. Taking care of my girl while trying to work and be creative... it's too much."

"And I've never met a mother who didn't feel that way, too." My Muse sits down on the edge of my desk to look at me. "What else would you do?"

"I don't know. Clean the bathroom more often."

She smiles. "You would die of boredom in two days. Maybe less. No, face it my dear, you're an artist, and a mother, and right now you have a cold. Therefore you feel like all you want to do is hide on the couch and watch Northern Exposure reruns with four boxes of tissues."

"Why don't moms get sick days?"

"That's why I'm not a mom. I can't imagine giving up my entire existence to another human being, someone who is needy and whiney and never says thank you for anything you do. And then when they grow up they hate you. Sounds like hell."

I stare at her. "You know exactly what to say to make me feel worse."

"I try." She grins. "Come on. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Turn off this computer and make a cup of tea. Tomorrow you'll feel better and then you can finish up that contract for the new author."

"Oh God. The new author. Can I actually take on another author?"

"This author? Definitely. I have a very good feeling in my bones about her."

"But what if..."

"Enough!" My Muse reaches over and turns off my computer.

It's Snowing!

I woke up this morning before the dawn, let the dog outside to pee, and saw the deck covered in snow. This is an exciting event in Ukiah, elevation 650. We get snow maybe once a year, and it will only last the morning. The dog ran back inside, looking cold and puzzled by the "not-rain." My daughter was getting up, so I ran into her room, grabbed her hand and led her to the doorway. She grinned and giggled. "It's snowing!"

Now at 9:00 am, it is still snowing and actually starting to stick to the street. I took a bunch of photos and tomorrow my daughter and Laura will use them to make a snow page in my daughter's scrap-book. My daughter keeps looking out the window and announces every few minutes, "Mom! It's still snowing!"

I know if you live in Montana or Michigan or Massachusetts, an inch of snow in one day is a nice day. But in this part of Northern California, where the temperature rarely dips below 20 F, snow is a major event with road and school closures. It's a winter treat and it cheered up a little girl whose been sick with a bad cold for almost a week and one sleep deprived mother too bleary eyed to do much more than watch the snow fall.

The Kids are Back in School!!!

All across the country, work-at-home parents are doing the happy dance called, "The Kids are Back in School!" I woke up extra early this morning and in the pre-dawn darkness began to dance around the house in my pj's, humming "I want to fly away..." by Lenny Kravitz while laying out my daughter's school clothes, checking her back-pack, washing her glasses, and boiling the water for her oatmeal. I got her up and ready for school in record time. She was actually glad to go back too, having suffered long enough with the boredom of a rainy vacation, so she didn't dawdle while dressing like she usually does. Traffic was light as we drove to school and even the dog was cheerful, especially when the usual crossing guard gave her a doggy-treat when I stopped at the stop sign.

At last my daughter was back in school! I rushed home eagerly, longing to get into the swing of work; the stacks of pages needing editing, the submissions I needed to read and the few of my own to send out, the two review copies of Laura's book needing to be mailed, and fifty emails in need of answering. I sat at my computer with a fresh cup of coffee and... stared at the computer-screen. I couldn't figure out where to start. So much had piled up since before the holiday vacation and Christmas celebrations. I looked at my new organization chart for a direction, but it all needed to be done NOW. Which one first?

I tried editing one of my interviews for the Punk book, but I'd lost the thread of the story. I spent two hopeless hours trying to keep the subject's authentic voice while cutting and pasting the story into something that made logical sense. I got more coffee, took the dog for a walk, went to the chiropractor, but nothing could shake the cobwebs from my creative brain. It's like my mind is still stuck in Mommy-gear and nothing related to Publishing can un-glue it.

Can you hear the cry of work-at-home parents as they shout, "Why can't I concentrate?" Finally peace and quiet after two weeks of non-stop noise and childcare and then we discover that we are incapable of functioning as productive, non-care taking, adults. And all the Christmas cookies are gone, too.

I give up. I'll put away the last bits of Christmas decorations and lug everything into the attic, then attack the laundry. Perhaps in a few days I'll transition out of Mommy-mode back into a more balanced, creative-mode. Medusa's Muse can wait one more day.

Juggling

Now that the book is launched and Medusa is open for business, I am learning to juggle the myriad parts of myself and my life. All the labels I wear are gracelessly colliding; Mom, Writer, Publisher, Wife, Pet-Owner, Home-Owner, Business-Owner. Medusa's catch phrase, "Transforming Chaos into Art," has taken an all too personal meaning as I climb over piles of laundry to get to my room, hunt for a pen that actually works, then try to clear a spot on my desk to pay a bill. I can't sit on my chair because it is piled with three coats and the blue ball-gown I wore for Halloween. Instead, I'm perched on the step stool, trying to reach the key board while my cat presses her nose against my wrist.

Yesterday was another book event for Laura. Her boss threw a book party and all of Laura's co-workers and many of the families included in the book were going to be there. 30 minutes before the party, Laura called needing a ride. No problem. I went into my daughter's room and announced it was time to go to "the party." My daughter didn't budge. She sat on her bed in full 12 year old angst with snot running from her nose.

I asked if she was feeling alright.

"Yes," she growled.

I wiped her nose and felt her head. A little warm, but she said she's fine, so we should still be able to go, right?

The child would not budge.

"Do you want to go?" I asked.

She wrapped her arms around herself tightly and said, "I don't know."

Just then, my husband walked in the door, ready to go to the party, too. He's the book designer and has so far missed any of the celebrating. Now it looked like he couldn't come to this party either. He said no problem, he needed to study for school any way. Class started in an hour. That gave me about 45 minutes at the party.

I grabbed a few books, drove madly to grab Laura, who I had made late while fighting with my daughter, and arrived at the party for my 30 minutes of celebration. I was bummed. This was the one night my girl could come and share in the celebration. She was on the cover of the dang thing, and a whole chapter was about her. I wanted to show her off and let her feel some of the energy I felt sharing the glow of Laura's book. Oh well. I drank some apple juice, gave the books to Laura, and went home.

Sometimes this motherhood gig sucks.