No Place Like Home

We are officially moved in to the new house.  Right now, it kind of looks like a trailer park on the other side of a tornado, but even in the midst of the unpacking chaos, there are moments of peace.  Here's my two guys, catching a nap.

Grade Grubbing

As many of you know, last year I was involved in a year long Novel Incubator course at Boston's Grub Street, a non-profit creative writing center that offers classes for beginners and professional writers alike.  The idea was that ten students started with drafts of their novels, and under the leadership of our two teachers (the wildly outstanding Lisa Borders and Michelle Hoover), and over the course of a year we revised and reworked, resulting a new full draft.  I wrote a blogpost about my experience for the Grub Street's blog,  The Grub Daily.  Go ahead and give it a look-see, and then read the rest of the Novel Inc. post from the other writers in my class.

First, a quick spoiler: no, my novel's not done.  It's on it's third draft, and I work on it most days, but no, it's not done yet.  But, as Oscar Wilde says "Books are never finished.  They are merely abandoned."  I take that to mean that the book will probably never be as good as I want it to be, but eventually I will just run out of ideas of what do with it.  At that point, I'll pour myself a stiff drink and toss it into the world of literary agents, thinking  "Screw it.  Just screw it all.  What happens, happens.  I don't care.  I can't look at it for one more minute." ::glug glug glug::

Which is not to say I don't enjoy it, because I do.  Writing a book is one of those life things that I've always wanted to do.  In my parents' hope chest, there's a picture book that I "wrote" as a very young kid, maybe five or six.  Hilariously, I was a recognition whore even then; the front cover is littered with "awards" for best book, best pictures, etc.  If I'd known what a Pulitzer was, I would have given myself that too (the first picture book ever to receive a Pulitzer!!!).  But here's the thing: writing can't be about recognition.  Recognition is too sparse and too fickle to sustain anyone through the hours and hours and years of work it takes to make a book work.  So, I've had to learn how to love the work of writing for itself, regardless of whether anything ever comes of it.  It's still a struggle, but I'm getting better.

I'm hoping to "abandon" my novel by May, and then pitch the book at Grub's Muse and Marketplace conference.  We'll see.  And in the meantime, I'll keep working

3 Lessons for 3 Months

Is it hard to believe our little boo is 3 months old?  Yes and yes--two different kinds of yeses.  

Yes, it's hard to believe he's already gotten so big.  As we were packing up our things to move to the new house, I decided it was as good a time as any to put away Leo's three month clothes.  As I did, I held each one up and marveled at how unbelievably small they were, and how equally unbelievable it was that he used to be that small, and how especially unbelievable it was that he would never be that small again.  The whole thing defies all belief.  I can't imagine how stunned I'll be when he starts talking or playing sports or (god forbid) dating.

But also, yes, it's hard to believe that he's only 3 months old.  Our lives have been so completely transformed by his existence that pre-Leo time feels like a very long time ago.  I remember in the same way I remember law school or even college: fondly but fuzzily, with a pleasing veneer of nostalgia.  

I think this time distortion is caused by the tremendous learning curve of bringing home a baby.  Within a few weeks, I went from carrying our tiny baby like he's made of glass to slinging him over my shoulder mountain-bride style while hopscotching over the toys on our living room floor.  And that's just the beginning. Here are three other things I've learned in the last three months.

1) Sixteen pounds is really heavy.  It doesn't sound like that much, but lifting that little bugger a few dozen times a day is giving me some serious no-foolin' guns.  By the time he's two, I'll be able to arm wrestle Michelle Obama.  

2) Trying to get around with a stroller is a little like having a disability.  Suddenly, I have to plan where I can and can't go based on the layout of the store, whether there's a ramp to get inside, the size of the bathroom, etc.  And, I've had to make some substitutions.  For example, I have a new coffeehouse of choice.  Old coffeehouse:  I'm sorry.  We had some good times, but your tables are too close together.  Put a changing table in your bathroom and we'll talk. 

2a) I have a whole new respect for people with disabilities.

3)  If you'll just sit still and stop worrying about everything else you're supposed to be doing, letting a baby sleep on your chest is one of the finer things in life.

And now, for your viewing pleasure: Leo versus the Camera Cord, feat. Johnny Cash.

(Not Quite) Picture Perfect

'Tis the season to dress up your kid, pose him artfully, and drain your camera battery trying to get something that can pass for a smile.  Here are some of the out-takes from Leo's first Christmas photo session.

Smile for the what now?

Man, that flash is bright!

Muscles!

::blink::

And fist . . .

. . . goes . . .

in the mouth!

Again!

And again.

And again.