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The Three Faces of Z

Posted on by Beth Hull

To be fair, she has more faces. And not all are as extreme as these. The Timid is another face that comes to mind – that’s the one she whips out in large groups of people, when I suspect she is only half timid, half I-want-my-mommy-to-pay-attention-to-only-me. There’s also a whiny face, but whenever I talk about her whining, I sound like I’m whining. So we’ll just avoid that today, and focus on the following three faces.

The Focused

When Z has a job she wants to do, she brings out her FocusedFace. She focuses completely on whatever “job” she’s created for herself, whether it’s putting every single one of her stuffed animals to bed, listing their genealogies, or tearing construction paper into tiny, impossible-to-pick-up-without-tweezers scraps. Whatever she’s doing, she’s intent and quiet. I love to watch her like this, hear the conversations she makes up with herself and her stuffed friends.

The Crazed

This is, perhaps, the most frightening incarnation of childhood I will ever witness. At least, I hope it doesn’t get scarier than this. The words “inside voices” mean nothing. The word “no” means nothing. Pogo sticks sprout from the soles of her feet. She has to do whatever it is she’s set her mind to do, whether or not doing this thing will result in an eternity of time-outs, e.g. picking up the cat and hurling her to the floor, slapping/pushing/spitting (yes, my child occasionally does these things. If yours doesn’t, wipe that smug smile off your face and trade kids with me). The Crazed Face is the one that has me calling Husband, vowing that This Is The Last Day I Will Be A Stay-at-Homie, Here Is My Resignation, I’m Driving to Mexico for Margaritas – Alone – and Nobody Can Stop Me.

The Helpful

One of my favorite recent Z-quotes happened at the dinner table the other night: “I’m going to be the calmest person. I’m not gonna cry, I’m not gonna scream, I’m not gonna make Daddy say I can’t have stories. I’m going to cooperate!” The Helpful personality of Z will often manifest itself in hyper-exaggerated gestures of politeness. She’ll often even help me recognize this face by saying something like, “I feel like a grown-up” or “I’m being polite.” The Helpful Z works to earn approval, and smiles angelically up at me from time to time. She does her chores, she cleans up her toys, she surprises me with random, gentle hugs or back massages.

What kinds of faces did you have as a little kid, or what faces do you see on the kids around you?

PS: I think she just fell asleep during Quite Play Time. YES!

PPS: By the way, if you haven’t played Killer Bunnies before, you’re missing out. I’ve been looking for an excuse to work them into a blog post for over a year now.

The Subtext of Playdate Arrangements

Posted on by Beth Hull

Now that Z’s making friends and influencing people (and getting beaned in the nose with the tetherball) at preschool in the morning, I’ve been filling afternoons with either a) trying to clean house and slowly going insane, or, b) the library, Target, or playdates with Z’s friends.

Here are some common phrases I’ve used and noticed, and what I read between the lines.

“How about we go to your house? Z’s getting cabin fever over here. She could use a change of scenery.”

Translation: We’re living like pig people, and I’d be embarrassed to show this place to an infant, even less to a full-grown adult capable of making judgments.

“Yeah, four o’clock sounds good. But if naps end early, feel free to come on over!”

Translation: I’m going batty alone with my child(ren). Bring yours over to distract mine ASAP. I don’t care if they’re grumpy, rude, crying, snotty. I need them, and I need you!

“Or, we could always meet at the park.”

Translation: The park is a neutral zone, and my child, who hates to share, won’t have any prior claim to the park structures. Also, nobody has to clean up afterward. Also, my house is a disaster area and this way you don’t have to see it, and I don’t have to be embarrassed.

“Do you want to bring a snack, too? Maybe we could have a little picnic?”

Translation: I haven’t gone grocery shopping in weeks and we have nothing fit to serve others. Unless, that is, you think stale goldfish crackers and Cheerios make a meal.

“We’re having a rough day. Z could sure use some company.”

Translation: I’m having a rough day and I am about ready to have a mental breakdown. If I don’t talk to someone who can speak without whining this afternoon, you might see me screaming and riding Z’s Power Wheels up and down the sidewalk outside my house.

Those are just a few. Are there any that I missed?

The Query-Go-Round

Posted on by Beth Hull

The only thing keeping me strong with revisions is the thought that I might someday be done with them. I love revising, I do (where else in life can you hit the DELETE button on your mistakes before anyone else can see what a moron you are?). But sometimes revising seems endless, especially when you are anal retentive neurotic obsessive a teeny bit of a perfectionist like me.

So I have this list:

There's more, of course, but I don't want to give my brilliance away for free.

The list is three pages long, and I’ve checked off many of the (super quick) tasks over the past two and a half weeks. As soon as everything is crossed off, I will give the manuscript to some poor, unsuspecting super-lucky friends. While they read it and give me frequent updates on how awesome it is, I will be readying myself and my (super-brilliant) manuscript for the Query-Go-Round…the most uncomfortable part of wanting to be published. (Once a writer has published something, there is probably a whole new batch of horrors, but I don’t know anything about those yet. Thankfully?)

This will be my third trip on the Query-Go-Round, and I think I’ve learned a few things from my first two trips.*

First Lesson: A list of agents and a query letter are not enough.

Yeah, there are a few agents out there who don’t want anything except your pitch and maybe a few sample pages. But there are so many others, and some of them look fabulous, who ask for a synopsis. I limited my options with manuscripts 1 & 2 because I didn’t write synopses (yes, the plural form of synopsis is synopses). So this time I’m going all out: a one-page synopsis, a two-page synopsis, and a “detailed” synopsis, which, according to various sources, could be anywhere from twelve to 50 pages long. I’m going to shoot for ten.

Second Lesson: The synopsis is only painful if you don’t show it who’s boss.

Seriously. Once I stopped referring to it as the Dread Synopsis, things got a little easier. Then easier still when K in my critique group brought in a book jacket blurb. I don’t remember the book at all, but the jacket cover told quite a bit of the story, and it sounded actually interesting (unlike every previous synopsis I had attempted). The trick, we decided, is to infuse the thing with melodrama. My reasoning here is that a) I’m really great at melodrama, just ask any friends from high school, and b) you can always back off on the melodrama once it’s in there. But if you start with a dry recount of your story, nothing will give it life.

Third Lesson: Do your research.

It’s so much easier to query an agent when you know that he or she is a) actually looking for new clients and b) represents manuscripts similar to yours that you actually admire. Nothing is more awkward to me than telling an agent she should look at my manuscript because…because… I always look at the Acknowledgements page of books I love, because their agent (usually acknowledged) loved the same book, meaning we have similar taste, and naturally, she will love my book too. (Maybe not my first or second books, but definitely my third book.)

Fourth (And Last) Lesson: Don’t freaking give up after ten rejections.

I don’t know if I gave up too soon or not. It felt right to give up on manuscripts 1 & 2, because they didn’t feel like the Best Thing Ever. Why would I want to try to sell something that wasn’t my best? At the same time, maybe it was too early for the second manuscript. I could have revised for character, but werewolves seemed already overdone…I mean, I didn’t even want to read about them anymore, & I used to think they were the coolest.

With this manuscript, though, I plan to query agents in groups of five, then take what information I get back (assuming nobody offers to represent me on the spot, which, given my winsome charm and manuscript of awesomeness, is quite possible)…what was I saying? I’ll take whatever feedback I may get, and mull it over, consider revising, and revise or move on to the next wave of agents. Possibly. It’s an evolving process, and I’m learning from it all the time.

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*Because I am not yet a Published Author, I don’t feel qualified to give writing advice. However, I’m really good at getting manuscripts rejected by literary agents, so I think I can talk a little about that.

Are We There Yet? I Want to Go Home!

Posted on by Beth Hull

We’re back from the cabins, weren’t hauled away by Outlaw Red Spiders of Doom, and we even survived the Incessant Whining of We’re-Never-Going-on-Another-Car-Trip-with-This-Child-Again.

One thing I’ve noticed is that Z wants to stay home more, now that she’s going to preschool. It isn’t just the drop-off tears (I think we’re done with that short phase, thank heavens). But when we’re here, she wants to stay put. It’s like she needs to be with her toys. She’s so much more absorbed. Yeah, she’s a lot more clingy, too, which is why I thought a long weekend with us and the grandparents would be a good thing.

So it wasn’t the idyllic Walden scene. Unless Thoreau had a cranky toddler to contend with, mixed in with the guilt of hiding in his cabin while his husband and grandparents dealt with her? I haven’t read Walden, but I can make a pretty good guess this wasn’t the case.

Oh yeah, and we forgot her cot. So it was Z, Husband, and me all squeezed onto a full-size futon. I’ve never felt closer to my family.

Finish that Manuscript! (A Board Game)

Posted on by Beth Hull

All you need is a die, and some colored bits of cardboard you can pretend are laptops or notebooks. Click on it to enlarge the view.

That’s all I have to say; I spent too long making this thing as it is.

ETA: I’ll be off to the mountains this weekend with family, so radio silence until Tuesday night. Have a great weekend, everyone!