Daily Defining Moments, Part III: Mean Girls

Situation #3:

Recently, a young girl I know went on a school-sponsored trip. After having her medications taken and held hostage by an unknown party for three days, then having her belongings hidden while she was in the shower, cold water dumped on her in the wee hours of the morning, among other things—this girl could have been vying for revenge. (Especially knowing that the culprits were girls once considered her good friends.)

But this particular young woman wasn’t. Through her hurt and frustration, she opted to take the high road. She didn’t play a single mean prank, even on the girls who wouldn’t leave her alone.

The explanation she gave was this: I don’t ever want to make anyone feel the way they made me feel. I’m not that person.

But it’s not an experience she wants to repeat, either.

So. In this instance, does our compassion make us stronger, or does turning the other cheek make us weak?

(FYI: Right now, I’m wishing Kenny Rogers had written a song about mean girls—cuz I can’t get his song Coward of the County out of my head.)

My conclusion: I’m not saying there’s a right or wrong way to handle any of the situations I’ve mentioned. I think it’s more about who we choose to be and how we react to the cards we’re dealt. In real life, as well as in fiction. As I recently heard quoted by a wise man (sorry, I didn’t catch the source), “It is our daily efforts and how we handle challenges that define us.”

So I ask myself:

1. Will I be defined by a pile of popcorn on the floor?
2. Will I be defined by hitting the ball that results in the winning run?
3. Will I be defined by the cruelties of others?

No, children, I will not. But I might be defined by how I react to all those things. And that, my friends, is the stuff of which personal growth is made.

How will you be defined today?

Daily Defining Moments, Part II: The Hit

Okay, so we discussed the woman and the popcorn, so let’s go for another personal experience from this past weekend.

My eleven-year-old son has decided to try his hand at Little League. Saturday was his first game of the season. Now, being that he hasn’t played much baseball in the past (though he did play machine pitch last year) he ended up sitting the bench for a good portion of the game. It’s okay. We knew it was coming. It happens. But the good thing about Little League is that everyone gets to bat at least once, and for my son, he got up to the plate three times throughout the game.

Two strike-outs later, during the last inning, last ups, a tied score, and one runner on third, my boy steps up to the plate. Strikes once, strikes twice, then hits the ball and—surprised—runs and ends up on first. Then stands, shocked, as everyone in the stands screams and cheers, then the team swarms him with high fives and hugs and happiness.

His hit sent the other runner home, scoring the winning point. The game was officially over. Half an hour later, his FB status update told the world about his amazing hit, and he truly felt like the king of the world.

So. In this instance, are our experiences what make us who we are? Or does who we are define how we experience the important moments?

Daily Defining Moments, Part I: Popcorn

In general, fiction stories start with a turning point, the day everything changes for the main character. The reason this works is because readers can identify with these defining moments in things that happen to them as often as every day. This week, I want to explore some of the daily defining moments I’ve witnessed in real life. Just because, well, your thoughts on the matter will interest me.

Subject number one:

Over the weekend, I took two of my kids to a movie. As the closing credits rolled and the theater emptied out, we followed the crowd toward the exit. Near the door, a woman dropped her half-full bag of popcorn on the floor. She paused, looked around, then back at the mess, and bent to pick up her bag (the easy part) leaving the corn to be scattered by those walking out behind her.

Now, maybe I was extra irritated because of the fact that my son works there, and I knew he would likely be the one stuck cleaning up that particular mess. But as I watched her leave, I couldn’t help but wonder what the woman was thinking. Or if she was thinking at all. She consciously made the decision to leave the mess for someone else, rather than scooping even some of it back into the bag and throwing it in the trash.

So. In this instance, do you think it’s true that we are the decisions we make? Or do our decisions make us who we are?

Chameleon of Change

You know how I've been claiming I write my blogs on the weekends and schedule them to post? Well. Since it is nearly 10am on Friday and I am only right now writing today's post, obviously, that didn't work out this week. My schedule has been thrown askew.

I'm going all out here, writing off-the-cuff. Yikes!

It's okay. I can adapt. It's one of my strengths.

So, I just finished reading the book Candor by Pam Bachorz (great story, FYI) and am now halfway through Waiting for Normal by Leslie Connor. Completely different books. One's a YA dystopian, the other a middle grade contemporary. Waiting to be read next (since it's a library book and gets priority over the other TBR books on my shelf) is Tithe by Holly Black. YA fantasy. Again, very different from the other books.

But this morning I realized all these books have a common theme. In fact, all my most favorite books share some version of this theme.

The main characters are all learning to adapt to the conflicts thrown into their lives. They may not all be Katniss Everdeen, but they're still warriors of one sort or another who take what's thrown at them and go with it, use it, adjust. They may not be happy about it, but they accept that things are changing and rearrange their way of thinking (and sometimes their schedules) and act accordingly. Over the course of the story, the characters themselves change, grow.

Change happens, whether we like it or not. How have you dealt with recent changes in your life? (Good or bad, I'm not picky.) Are you a chameleon of change? A desert gecko turned fish when you reached the ocean? An Arizona desert dweller turned Rocky Mountain snow angel?

And while you're thinking, how has dealing with change made you a better, stronger person?

Finding My Footing

You know how there are times in life when you look around and wonder what you were thinking when you decided to do this thing, or that thing, or pursue this XYZ life path? Yeah. I’ve had a few of those lately. The kind where I look around going, really? I chose this? Why again?

But honestly, I know. I always know. Just. Sometimes, I lose my grip and have to find my footings again, that’s all.

The other day, my husband and I were hiking in Arches National Park, near Moab, UT. We’re not into doing stupid things that would risk both of our lives (cuz, we still have kids to raise) but we do like adventure, and we’re both pretty brave when it comes to trying new things. Not that hiking is new to us. But some places are scarier than others—as in steep. I’m not afraid of heights, and neither is he. But try scaling a cliff with a 200 foot drop, and it can be a little nerve wracking to the bravest of people.

As you may (or may not) know, the sights and natural wonders which are generally most desirable, most amazing, most breathtaking, are also the most difficult to get to. And sometimes a little on the dangerous side. (Especially when you climb them in canvas Rocket Dog shoes with smooth tread.)

But as we only had one day to hike, I knew I only had one chance to see the best sights. And I was determined to do it. This is what I climbed.

 Here is one of the drop-offs.

My reward.

What I learned: Determination is enough as long as you are careful to find the right footing. And even if it’s hard, the determined always make it to the top.

Dreaming About Agents

I think everyone has a dream agent. You know. The one who will make them rich and famous bestsellers, right? Some authors know all the names and details about all the agents they’ve ever queried, or hope to query, and even have them listed in order of ideals or whatever. (Talking about in the author's heads, here, not just a spreadsheet.)

And that’s all good and fine. Except what if that dream agent at the top of their list doesn’t end up being a good match? Agents can look great on websites and Publisher’s Marketplace, but what if your dream agent and you have totally different personalities? Different plans? Different individual ideals that clash?

Signing with an agent is a big deal. An important, big deal. And while it’s only one more step in a writer’s journey, and certainly not the last step.It’s...you know what? It's kind of like getting married. You want to be really sure you’re making a good decision, that the agent and you are truly a good, lasting, beneficial match. 

So. My dream agent?

1. Loves my manuscript. Seriously loves it.
2. Has good insight about how to improve the manuscript we both love.
3. Enjoys working with me, talking to me, exchanging emails with me, etc. (But not excessively or obsessively.)
4. Gets my voice, my style, my characters, and maybe even my ideas.
5. Has a sense of humor, a good heart, and a realistic view of the publishing world.
6. Is patient enough to be tolerant when I have a breakdown (which I promise won’t happen often, but might happen occasionally).
7. Is also patient when I have an idea that excites me to the point where I just have to discuss it.
8. Wants to sign me and get right to work.

Some people would say that’s a tall order, a long list, a lot to hope for. I know. Just like I know it’s unlikely that I’ll get all that. But you know what? Just like when I was younger and dating—you have to have some kind of standard, some kind of criteria for the guys you go out with. I think it’s the same with agents.

What do you think? Am I hoping for too much? Thinking too hard about it? Messing up my chances just by posting my thoughts on this subject?

Reading Really Can Be Contagious

So, I know it’s going to sound, well, strange, but I know quite a lot of people who claim that they aren’t readers. Or not fans of reading. Or whatever. (I know, I don’t really get it either, but it’s true.)

I mean, yeah, they can read. They read newspapers and magazines and textbooks. And they’re intelligent people. So why wouldn’t they read something good for sheer pleasure? Because, as we die-hard-life-long-readers know well, there is nothing more pleasing than a really great story.

I’ve decided that there must be some kind of disconnect between these intelligent non-readers and the books they’ve tried reading up to this point, which basically means that they just haven’t found the right books to read. And with that in mind, I’ve made it my mission in life to assist my loved ones in this endeavor.

The mission started something like a year ago, when one of my non-reader friends needed something to read on a plane. I sifted through my books, knowing this person’s personality well, as well as what would interest her, give her pleasure, and guess what? When I got my book back, she was grinning. *score 1*

Since that small success, I have also converted my non-reader sister, who recently brought me back my copy of Shiver and actually squealed when I told her it was the first of a series and sent her away with Linger. *score 2*

There will be more of these stories. And when I discover them, I will share. Because now, more than ever, I believe that everyone can love to read for pleasure, as long as they have the right books.

Totally Random-ish Thoughts: Friendship

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about friendship, and all the varieties and types of relationships that exist among friends. I could go off on how important it is to be a true friend who is always there and whose dedication is unconditional. And yes, having friends like that (and being one) is really important. (Believe me, it’s important. I wouldn’t know how to survive without certain people in my life.)

But I think it’s also important to have seasonal friends. You know which ones they are. They are really fun to know, and you spend some time with them, and you enjoy being around them. But when you really look, you realize they aren’t high on your priority list.

Then there are other friends who serve a purpose. Not people you’re using (because that sounds awful, and even if it’s true on some level, it’s not intentional) but who are there and kind of hold your hand and help you traverse certain roads that lead to career, or religion, or relationships, or whatever. If you move away, or change jobs or career paths or something, you might keep track of them on FB or Twitter, but you won’t go to great lengths to hang out.

It’s sometimes hard to know which role is being played by which person at any given time, but I realize it doesn’t matter. As time passes and life changes and people grow older, or closer, or apart—the most important ones stick around, the less important ones drift away, and the purposeful ones fulfill their mission in your life, and then you all go on your merry way.

Regardless of which type of friend a person is, though, I think they always deserve the most and the best you can give of yourself. Because people come into your life for a reason. We almost never know what that reason is, and if we were to try and guess, we’d most likely be way off. So maybe it’s just better to accept that they’re supposed to be there, give our all into our different brands of relationships, and learn from everyone we meet.

Because relationships of all kinds are the stuff of real life and fiction and everything in between.

And that, my friends, is totally random thought Wednesday!

Things I'm Thinking About

1. It seems like a cruel joke that Mother Nature has chosen to send us snow during the entire week of spring break. Just. Cruel.

2. I get a kick out of how some people have expressed concern about me since I put purple streaks in my hair. I mean, seriously, peeps, it’s just hair color! (And I intend to keep it for a while because it makes me smile. A lot.)

3. Not that my taste in books has changed much lately, but I’ve found myself giving them fewer pages to hook me before I give up and move onto something else. Not sure why—guess it’s a lack of time thing?

4. Brownies are sometimes a better alternative to cake. They may not be as pretty, but they’re like fluffy-chocolatey-gooeyness that can be eaten at any time of the day and always make a girl feel happy.

5. I still have not figured out the phenomenon that makes all the neighborhood dogs howl whenever they hear sirens. It’s like they have a compulsion to imitate the wail. Sound the alarm, doggies! Do they want to chase the fire truck? Rescue someone from a fire? Munch on the flashing light or siren speaker? If only I could read their minds. Could be interesting.

6. I am proud to admit that my family has been working on being prepared for emergencies—like earthquakes or other natural catastrophes—and if an earthquake hit Utah today, hopefully we’d have what we need to survive for a little while. Except Bandaids. We keep forgetting to buy those. Doh.

7. In less than a month, I will be hanging with some of my bestest author friends at the 2011 LDStorymakers writer’s conference. So. Excited. It’s my fave conference of the year—every year. And I. Am. So. Stoked. *breathes to calm excited belly-dragon-flies*

8. My oldest daughter turned 15 this weekend. It's kind of freaking me out that I'm going to have to teach yet another of my children to drive. And then she'll be asking to borrow my car, and...yeah.

9. I interviewed a way awesome, super funny author today over at the Star Crossed blog. Be sure to stop by and say hi.

10.Apparently, I have a thing for lists lately. I really should analyze that sometime soon.

The Story that Changed Commerce (Part II)

To read the first portion of this story, click here.

So where was I? Oh yes, the story of the dead guys hit the press.

Mazatlan isn’t necessarily any more dangerous than it was before, but because people heard the rumors, the bubbling arguments, and the debates, lots decided to vacation elsewhere, because on the surface, it appears that the city of Mazatlan isn't safe. (FYI, I'm not saying it is safe either, just that I didn't feel any more nervous than I would in New York or LA or Dallas or...oh yes, Houston, where we accidentally spent a night.)


Many of the people we met have been visiting Mazatlan for years, and either own time shares or private condos (which they rent out to people like me and my friends). Or they have favorite hotels. Whatever.


Point is, these people know the area and the culture well. They have friends, they feel a kinship with the locals, and they understand that members of a drug cartel or criminals of other types are not what defines the area or the people living there. They KNOW better. They understand that terrible things happen all over the world, and that's unavoidable. But my friends and I were told time and time again (by fellow Americans) that the place we were visiting was safe, and beautiful, and as good as it has always been. The only thing that has really changed is how the public sees it.


Why am I telling you this? I think sometimes we, as humans, see something on the surface and allow that vision to change our view, even when we know deep down that there's way more to it than what meets the eye.


This experience made me ask myself if I am the kind of person who will allow others to define my thoughts, or if I will make my own judgments based on what I know. It made me wonder if I am quick to conjecture, or if I am capable of taking a moment to find the information I need to make an informed choice.


I can't say I'm one way or another, because I don't believe there's anything in the world that's ever black and white. Rather, there are at least a thousand different shades of gray in between. I don't know the answer. But after spending a week there, if given another opportunity, I'd go back to Mazatlan in a heartbeat.


But you know. That’s just me. What do you think?

A Story that Changed Commerce

Okay, I’m totally not braggin. Seriously. I just have to share this story. And because it’s long, I’m going to do it in two parts. So please bear with me. I do actually have a point.


Part I


During my recent trip to Mazatlan, Mexico, some friends and I stayed in a remote condo complex sandwiched between a lush golf course and a private beach. The place was gorgeous, with tall palm trees, miles of light sand and blue water, and plenty of wildlife. (Hey, I'm talking animals here, what were you thinking? *winks*) (Yeah, it was posh, and no I'm not trying to rub it in, I promise.) (Also, none of us are golfers, but that's a whole other story.)



Given that it's now April, this should be a pretty busy season for them. But this year, other than resort employees, the place was practically a ghost town. We stayed in phase 2 of 3, and in our section, there were around 12 other people there, total, in a place which could realistically have held 300 or more.

This surprised my friends and I, but given that we arrived on a Monday at the end of March, we chalked it up to an off day of the week, or an off week of the season, and went about our merry way, endlessly entertaining the staff with our antics (of which there were many, I assure you). A few days into our trip, we took a shuttle (again, we were the only passengers) for the 40 minute drive into town to do a little shopping.


Because, let's face it. Five women in Mexico might very possibly explode without at least one shopping trip. Just sayin.


We had the driver drop us off in an area near the cruise port, because we knew there would be a lot of fun places to see there, and because we only had a few hours. Again, we took notice that there were very, very few tourists in this area that should have been bustling with cruise passengers, as well as vacationers. It's a popular place to visit, you know? So we asked one of the shop owners if it was an off day for the port area.

Got an interesting answer. Turned out, not long ago, a couple of stupid cruisers left the safe areas of town and headed for the not-so-safe hills, by themselves, with no map and no guide and apparently no clue. They happened upon members of a hidden drug cartel, and got themselves killed. (Yikes, right?) Sad, sad situation, for sure. But even sadder? Because of this incident, which isn't necessarily isolated, but also not a regular occurrence in the area, the press had a heyday with the story.


People were up in arms, arguments were had within governments and private contractors and cruise companies and resorts. In the end, the cruise companies canceled all scheduled ports in Mazatlan until 2012. Airlines cut flight options going to Mazatlan in half (meaning the prices skyrocketed, FYI). And now, a few months later, respectable, hard-working merchants whose livelihoods depended on tourist support, are in danger of sinking like the Titanic.


So sad. Cuz those little shops have great stuff. And it's such a fun city. But this is the cliff hanger point where I make you wait til Friday to read the rest. (Sorry! I warned you.)

I'm Back! (And a Few Things I Learned in Mexico.)

Well, sort of back. I'm  home, but not at all caught up on everything I've missed. I haven't even written my blogs for the rest of this week yet.


*Gasps*

 I even thought I did today's blog in advance, but when I checked, there wasn't one. So. Yeah. My bad.

But I did learn some stuff while I was gone, and I think I'll share them with you.

1. The current exchange rate between the Mexican Pesos and the American dollar is 12.5-$1

2. Wicker furniture is much heavier than it looks, and probably not meant to be taken outside for sleep-outs under the stars. Probably.

3. When five women go anywhere together, people take notice. It doesn't matter if you forewarned them or were accidentally way-laid due to airline misahps. They see. They remember. They take note. As in, "Oh yeah, you're the five." (Everywhere we went.)

4. Factor 15 sunscreen is not nearly strong enough, even if you reapply twice in a day. And red is not a very becoming color on me.

5. Sand dollars are extremely hard to find, but dead blow fish are everywhere. At least, in Mazatlan.

6. Just when you think you'll never see these people again, someone who knows someone you know shows up and shatters that thought to bits. As in, "I saw your wife and some other women booking it through the Houston airport, pulling pink suitcases, and wearing sandals. Very entertaining. Quite comical. Did they actually make it?" (Missed it by eight minutes, dude. Doh!)

7. Telling a Mexican merchant you're not going to buy something sparkly is like issuing a challenge, which might result in a standoff that ends in the use of a credit card or the rest of your cash.

8. Even in Mexico, when you tell people you're from Utah, they have to ask, "So, is this a sister-wives trip?" or "Do you all have the same husband?" And man, they're serious. (REALLY? We're really good friends, but not that kind of good.)

9. Just because the cell phone company offers you an international plan doesn't mean you'll actually get a signal where you're going.

10. When you end up stranded overnight in a city you didn't plan on visiting, with no luggage, Continental airlines gives you a little bag with a toothbrush, comb, and deodorant. "Thanks for flying with us. Please accept this valuable gift in lieu of a missed day at the beach. We hope you'll fly again soon!"

Yeah, I'm sure there's more. But it's way past my bed time. Hopefully, I'll be back on track by Wednesday. Good to see you all, my friends!

Liberty, Old-World Style

Most likely, I won't have a post up on Monday, as I won't be home until very late Sunday night. So, just to hold you over, a few more pictures of my beautiful country for some thought-inspiring inspiration.

All pictures shared this week were taken by me or a member of my family. Just, FYI.

See you soon!