Preparedness makes me so nervous

Last Friday the kids had a Safety Drill at school. For me, it only meant that instead of picking the kids up at the bus stop, I actually had to go get them at the school. Parents needed to learn the protocol if "something" happened one day.
The night before we had my nephew's wedding, and on Friday I slept in. That day I let the three younger kids stay home, but my Gorgeous Boy had a test and couldn't miss it. He went to school, not too happily though.

During breakfast, my Princess Peach told me what they do during her kindergarten class Safety Drill. If there's a threat, the teacher leads the kids to the bathroom, where they file in in complete silence. They have to stay away from the sink because it has a motion sensor, and if there's a noise, the bad guy will know they're there. The teacher turns off the light, but she has a flashlight. If it's lunch time, the teacher has an emergency snack bucket.

While she was telling me all this, my hair was standing on end. I have a very vivid imagination. The images her whispering voice conjured gave me nightmares for nights. They still do.
In the afternoon, I picked up my son. It was my turn to practice the drill. All the parents parked by the basketball courts, following the directions of traffic helpers. All the school stuff wore reflective vests, and somehow, seeing all of them wearing those and a whistle around their neck, I felt this soberness in the air. This was something important.

I checked in at middle school desk that was set up outside. A person with a walkie-talkie called inside the school to ask if my son was still inside. There was a crackling of static. My heart pounded imagining that they would say, "No, he isn't here."

After a while they answered he was there, of course, and then I picked him up at a different table.
We walked away, hand in hand. He didn't try to shake it away, but he wanted to. Some girls were looking at him. We walked past a father who was patiently listening to his three daughters complain of how terrible it was they had to wait in the dark for hours, the whole sixth grade class.

As I drove away, I muttered a prayer of gratitude that this was just a drill, a practice in case something bad happens. A nightmare. A horror so terrible I can't even imagine. I hate that kids (and parents) have to do this. But boy am I grateful my kids will know what to do (hopefully) in case of an emergency!

As for me, I'd love to fly to a distant island, safe from tsunamis and hurricanes, and live away from monsters. And then I think of The Village, and I'm left with just a prayer of protection for my children, and every children. That's all I can do.

My Gorgeous Son teaching school in Ghana

30 Days, 30 Stories: The River God

Utah Children's Writers: The River God: Back when the West was still a mystery, Hurakan had reigned supreme over the waters. He preferred the blue, warm waters that the C...

First chapter event in real life. And lost dog(s).

Last week we moved to another town. The fact it's only five minutes away from where we moved from didn't make the event any less stressful. I still had to pack for a family of five kids and two dogs. I had tons of help, and although there still are a million boxes to unpack, the kitchen and the bathroom are done, the address has been updated at the many places that need our current address and I already did laundry. Now that I finally did laundry, I feel we're home.

I told the kids we were on the first chapter of the next story in our lives. El Cangri, who struggles with abstracts, asked if our life was a real book that people are reading right now. I told him that maybe in the future someone will write a book about how awesome he is, and he was okay with that. Anyway, it seems like a lot of books, especially kids' books start with a move. We were all excited about meeting new friends and starting again.

I forgot to remind the dogs that this was an opportunity to start again and maybe learn a few things, like not running away.

Yesterday, not five minutes after the Invisible Fence guy left, Dandelion ran away. I was helping Coco who had gotten shocked by the collar when he tried to breach the perimeter (serious hunger Games mental vision), and saw her darting to the street from the corner of my eye. By the time I went to look for her, it was too late. She was gone.

I spent the next two hours looking for her. After the kids came home from school, we looked for her. I met a lot of new neighbors. I hope I made a good first impression. I tried not to sound too frantic while calling Dandi's name.

Nighttime came and still no sign of Dandi. By now there were a lot of teary kids. I've been reading Julia Kagawa's The Immortal Rules and I kept thinking of Dandi out in the night, alone, with who knows what roams at night (I know, I get a little too involved in books).

This morning I had a phone call that a neighbor had seen Dandi not far from our house. I dashed to the car and drove down the street. I didn't see her. I came back home and left Coco out in the yard. If Dandi heard him or saw him she would know where to go. And he was so terrified of getting shocked again, he surely wouldn't ... no, not at all.

I drove down the street and there she was. My beautiful teddy puppy wagging her invisible tail, ears perked up and smiling as big as she could. She was so happy and I must admit, so was I. Another teary moment. I couldn't wait to be home with my Dandi.

So I drove up our driveway and Coco didn't greet me, but I didn't worry. He must have gone out back like he had yesterday. I ran to show him I had found Dandi, and ... he wasn't there. He had ran away!!!!
I remember sometimes in a story when you get what you were looking for, you have to pay something back. But I didn't want to give up my Coco! I let Dandi inside and went back to the car. I wasn't going back home without Coco. We've been through similar things (running away) all over the place, even in Puerto Rico, when he disappeared in the mangrove swamp behind our house.

And then I heard a yelp. Coco was calling me. Another neighbor had found him and was going house to house trying to find Coco's family.

I hurried home, worried that this time Baby Hulk or Jeff would be missing. But whew! They were safe and sound waiting for me.

I'm excited for this story. I really hope chapters 2 and all the ones that will follow won't involve any missing dogs or kids. Or vampires.

Coco and Dandi patrolling the park

The never ending dilemma of all women, or at least me

The other day I came across this article on Twitter. I know it's long. It's too long, but it reflects the endless, sempiternal questioning that rumbles in the back of my mind. Am I doing what I'm supposed to be doing in this life? Am I living up to my potential? I mean, what woman doesn't question if she should stay home with the kids, go out of the house and work, do both, do all, be all.

I love my children. I'm happiest when I'm with them, taking care of them, teaching them. Still, sometimes I found out high school friends are climbing Aconcagua and all I've climbed is the pile of laundry after "our" spring break vacation.

I know I'm good at creating a home, at nurturing and teaching. I just fear I'll lose my identity as ME if I give my all. The other day, Princess Swan gave me this letter.

It made my day. It made my life worth every second, even the ones I spent wiping vomit or driving back to school because a certain kid missed the bus. 

When I was in Barcelona, I was struck by the magic of that beautiful city: the Gaudi buildings, the cathedral, Santa Maria del Mar. The thing that touched my heart the most though was this statue of Mary in an alcove in the cathedral. It's entitled, Our Lady of Happiness. It doesn't depict Mary as the queen of angels, but as the Queen of her family. Mary, just holding her child. You can even catch a glimpse of a tiny smile on her, right? I don't intend to be a queen, although my Princess Peach made me feel like one. Maybe the feeling will remain with me always. The years do go by so fast, and I'm blessed beyond measure. 

A Blind Eye

This Valentine's Day feels like a mini-Thanksgiving for me. Maybe it's because I'm surrounded by so many wonderful people in my life that I thank Heavenly Father for them at all times. Jeff, the kids, my Baby Hulk, who's so healthy and peaceful and beautiful, my parents. I'm blessed with many friends that have enriched my life in one way or another. One of such friends is Julie Daines. We've known each other for a while, but it wasn't until we were together in our Writers' group, The Sharks and Pebbles, that we became friends. Let me tell you, when a person reads your first drafts and still encourages you to keep on writing, you hold on to that friend, okay? She, along with our other writer companions, has glimpsed into the depths of my soul and still wants to be my friend. How cool is that?

Julie's book, A Blind Eye, just came out a week ago and it's already sold out in Amazon. It's not only a great story of redemption and forgiveness, but it's also fun, engaging and so well written. I read an early draft of her book, and it was already awesome and flawless. I don't know how she comes up with these stories, but she's a genius.

A Blind Eye is about Christian, a snarky, good hearted boy, who's desperate for his father to notice him. He's so desperate he runs away from home, only to find a stowaway in her car. Pink haired, quick witted Scarlet is also running away--from someone who kidnapped her in London and wants to silence her about her premonitory dreams. She's blind, but she sees far more than what it's obvious to the eye. When she dreams about her own and Christian's death, the two race against the clock to find the reason behind her kidnapping and in the meantime, see the truth that is hidden in plain sight.

I'm giving away a signed copy of A Blind Eye to one lucky person. All you have to do is leave a comment before Saturday night at midnight. Spread the word as happy Valentine's day!!! 

Time Flies When You're Having Fun

Yesterday was El Cangri's gymnastics class. It's the third one he's been to, and I kid you not, for the last three weeks the only way we get through any school related thing, or anything at all, is because of the promise of one hour of uninterrupted jumping and fun in his class.

On the way back home, he sighed and said, "One week to my next class..." and then, looking out the window, he added, "I really tried not to have fun so the time would go slower. But no, it didn't work."

When I managed to have a coherent thought after his words, I thought that for me writing means the same thing gymnastics means to my son. I usually write my best at night, and all day long, I look forward to the time I'll finally be able to sit down and write a few words or edit a chapter. Most nights though, I'm so exhausted I can't wait to go to bed and have some well-deserved sleep. But for me, if I don't get a daily dose of something I love--writing--I don't feel satisfied, no matter how much sleep or chocolate. I commit to protect my writing time, be more flexible with when I write and for how long. After all, it doesn't matter if I have a two-hour block. By the time it's over, it feels like five minutes because I have so much fun doing it.

The Best Gift of Christmas

Perhaps the most vivid Christmas memory of my childhood is the last one I shared with my grandfather.  I was five years old, and I was a precocious child. I talked nonstop about everything. I didn't know that would be the last Christmas I'd spend with him, but one thing I knew with all the certainty of my five year-old heart was that he loved me more than he loved any other person in the world. It was so hot that we set our table on the roof of the house. I don't remember what we had for dinner. I remember he made a makeshift bed on the floor, and I hugged him tight in that hot, hot Christmas night. He was shivering with cold although it probably was more than one-hundred degrees at midnight. We were watching the fireworks go out all over the neighborhood until he pointed a red light that never went out. In fact, it moved all over the sky, bobbing all over the star-peppered darkness. "That's Papa Noel," he said.

I think I must have always believed in Papa Noel, but from that night on, I've known he's real. I'll never forget that last Christmas with my Abuelo Ricardo. If I could wish for one thing it would be for one last conversation, so I could tell him how much I still miss him even though it's been thirty years since that last Christmas  and that I'm happy. That I have two little Yamiles he would have loved with all his heart, and that sometimes my three boys have a way of looking out into nothingness that reminds me so much of him.

Feliz Navidad, Abuelo! You're so loved!

NaNoWriMo 2012

I've been out of the blogsphere all month, and this is why:

This month, I wrote my yearly novel, I set out to read The Book of Mormon (I'm a couple of days behind, but I will catch up!), and I started training for a 5K. I trained my mind, my spirit and my body, and I'm feeling so good! While I was gone some pretty awesome things happened in my life, and I'll be back with more details later, when I don't have a sleeping baby snoring in the baby sling.
I love this feeling of having achieved something important for me! I love it!

Read Banned Books, or Not

Today I'm over at the Children's Writers Blog talking about Banned Books Week and what it was like for me to be born and raised under a totalitarian government, or the famous dystopian society we seem to love reading about. There's even a new TV show about it.

I lived in a country where there still is a need for freedom. Sometimes I wonder why I write in English and not Spanish, which is my first language. I think it's because I want my stories to be known to all, and English, like it or not, is the universal language.

Join the discussion about the importance, or not, of giving everyone freedom to think.

Backyard paradise

I always say that if I could stay inside my house always, I'd be totally content. Which isn't true, of course. In an attempt to protect Baby Hulk from the outbreak of flus, cold and germs in general I've been home most of the time, but let me tell you, there wasnt a happier person in the world than me last week when I HAD to go to the school to talk with El Cangri's teacher.

For weeks Jeff has been urging me to go up to the canyon with him and the kids. "It's so beautiful out there," he'd say every time he came back from a ride on his RZR (four wheeler kind of thingie).

I always had an excuse. Until this weekend. The weather was perfect. I was tired of the endless list of chores. And it was my dad's birthday. So we went up American Fork Canyon. The colors are unbelievable. So many shades of green, red and yellow. The clean, fresh air and the smell of pine. The sound of a babbling brook. Nature.
While on the ride, I had this great idea for a children's story pop into my head. I came back refreshed, energized, happy. Who would have thought that a quick ride in the mountains could do so much for me?

I loved it. Loved the lack of Internet, of phones, of the washer machine's beckoning me to get ahead of the laundry elves and do one more load of laundry.

What are your favorite ways to disconnect of the world? What are your favorite spots to recharge?

PS: I'm typing this post on my phone. It's the first time I'm blogging on the phone and I'm anxious to see how it turned out. :-).

First book, first love

Today I'm at The Utah Children's Writers blog talking about first loves and--what else?-- books.

Stop by to share yours.

Making Sense of the Nonsense

The other day, during lunch, El Cangri was unusually quiet. 

“What are you thinking?” I asked him.

He didn’t answer right away. After several seconds, he asked, “What happened with the parents in Madagascar?”

Madagascar? My train of thought snaked through the archives in my mind as I tried to figure out what he was talking about. It was the movie, Madagascar 3, which we watched months ago.

“Oh, Alex’s parents?” I asked.

He chewed his sandwich and said, “How come in the second movie they’re so happy to be together and then in the next one they’re not even there. And then, Alex wants to go back to the zoo? It just doesn’t make any sense.”

Keep in mind that we were talking about a cartoon about zoo animals--talking zoo animals I should add--that miss New York so bad they make their way from Africa to their beloved city as members of a traveling circus, all the while a vicious French detective woman with more animal traits than the animals themselves tries to capture them.

And he said the fact that the parents aren’t even in the story doesn’t make any sense? What about the whole traveling circus thing, or the part in which the giraffe is in love with the hippo?

Still, the thing that stood out the most to him was the inconsistencies in the story and the characters’ motivations. 

Where am I going with all of this? 

That even if we’re writing the most outlandish fantasy, there has to be a connection to reality for the reader to empathize with the characters and their goals. 

I’ve never been a gigantic blue alien, but I could totally identify with Avatar’s character as they tried to save their civilization from greedy people.

I’ve never been to Neverland, but in my happiest moments as a child, I wished I could stay little forever.

My father wasn’t a soldier for the Union army during the Civil War, but how I wished I had three sisters and a best friend, just like in Little Women.

You get the point. In fiction, the writer creates a world where the reader can lose track of time and space for as long as the story lasts. Character traits, dialog, plot, and voice are all tools to give credibility to the story.

If I’m reading a YA book and the main character doesn’t sound like a teenager at all, the spell of the story is broken and the reader is pulled away from it. The same thing if the characters’ actions aren’t congruent with their motivations. 

What are some things that pull you out of the story as a reader? As a writer, how do you keep reality in your story?

The Stupid Parents on Kids' TV Shows

The other day I was changing channels (probably looking for the Barcelona game), when I stumbled upon an old episode of Dora the Explorer. I never thought I would say this, but I have missed little Dora, her cousin Diego, abuelo and the baby twins. Dora's mother was always a benevolent, smiling figure, sending her strong daughter out into the world.

My kids have outgrown Dora and the other Nick Jr shows with the only exception of The Backyardigans, who by the way, absolutely rock! Literally. Their music is awesome.

Even though my two older children are tweens are the other two are in early elementary school, they have moved from fun, educational shows (did I just type fun and educational together? Yes, because I'm a nerd) to the other "trademark" Disney Channel shows. I'm talking about Good Luck Charlie, A.N.T. Farm, Austin and Ally and Shake it Up, to name just the more popular ones.

I never payed a ton of attention to them. The kids would watch TV in the family room while I did whatever I was doing. When I was a kid, I loved Blossom (who didn't?), and I have watched high School Musical and Lemonade Mouth (my favorite Disney movie for TV. Awesome writing).

It wasn't until my mom said something about Good Luck Charlie being a fun, cute show that I started watching it with the kids. And watching opened my ears, my eyes and my understanding.

Good luck Charlie is a fun, cute show.

Teddy, the older sister, is absolutely adorable, as is little Charlie. My kids are fascinated with the show because they have the same boy-girl-boy-girl-boy pattern as our family. Hey! They even just had a baby boy, Toby, exactly like us! The show is actually pretty funny.

What's not funny is how the parents act. They're absolute idiots. I was a kid once. I know that most times, kids reach an age when they think parents ARE idiots. I remember thinking my parents didn't know anything. Years, experience, and motherhood taught me that I knew nothing, and boy do I worship the ground my sainted mother walks on! But that is now.

As a parent, I know I'm not always right. I make mistakes every day! But the decisions I make are out of love and concern. My kids are, after all, my life, the reason I wake up every morning and for which I do all I do. They're my everything!

That's why it bothered me so much to see Teddy's mother acting like a teenager and getting into stupid situations to which the kids usually have to rescue her from. Teddy is the one who imparts the advice and sets limits on the mother! They usually compete over who's better than who. The mother is constantly talking about how beautiful she is, how clever and funny and amazing.

The dad is a funny, blabbering idiot. He's forever avoiding anything that would antagonize the wife, and being okay with everything as long as the family leaves him alone.

In the show, the parents are buddies with the kids, who are such brats, by the way.

I know that TV shows are for entertaining not educating. But, as I've heard a million times and experienced myself, kids are sponges. It doesn't take long for them to start imitating the behavior they see on TV.

When a character makes fun of the mom, the fake audience laughs and we all laugh. Right?

When my five year-old uses the same phrases on me, it's not funny at all. Not even a fake laugh over here to cue me in.

We're not huge TV watchers in this family, and by the time school starts in a few days, we won't watch it at all. With school and soccer and dance, there won't be any time left. I know the solution to avoid these shows' influence on my kids is simple: stop watching them.

The point is, why can't Disney portray family's in a funny way without denigrating parents? We talk about girl power, and I am glad about the strong female characters in movies and books that are coming out. What about family power? What is so wrong about supporting the family unit and the parents' role in educating the children?

The movie Brave, about Merida and her relationship with her mother is a good example too. The father is one more kid for the mother to discipline and control. He's in charge, but one look from his darling daughter is all it takes for him to melt into a puddle of goo. I loved the movie, but there is that tiny detail about the dad that portrayed parents as intellectual inferiors to clever, strong teenagers that bugged me to no end.

One of the reasons I love the movie Soul Surfer so much is because of the strong family that raised and supported such a strong girl, Bethany Hamilton.

I say, give us more like Soul Surfer. Give us funny and flawed, but not idiotic parents.

I used to complain (and I know I'm not the only one) that in Disney movies parents were always dead. But worse than a dead parent is an absent parent. A dis-empowered parent.

Can there be a balance between the authoritative parental figure and the idiotic one? How do we reach that point?

Good luck finding it, parents.

World Breasfeeding Week

Memories are tricky things. Our minds distil events, and we're left with the essence.

When I was little, my three younger siblings and I never ventured far from our mom's side. She cleaned, sewed, knitted, cooked with a baby in her arms. One of my very first memories is of my dad driving my mom and all of us kids to answer a request he had heard on the radio. A newborn baby at a local hospital needed "maternal milk" (that's how they called it), and my mom, who at the time was nursing my little brother, had a plentiful milk supply.

To me, the fact that my mom would donate milk to a baby in need was the most natural thing in the world. When I was a baby, she would walk several blocks every three hours to nurse my baby cousin whose mom couldn't feed him. I have dozens of "milk brothers and sisters" all over the country.

So when I became a new mother, the thought of not breastfeeding my child never crossed my mind. I was very sick after my son was born, and I was depressed for a whole year post-partum. Knowing that I was able to nurse my son and that he was so healthy and beautiful was sometimes the only thing that gave me enough incentive to get out of bed every morning. Every month the scale showed how much my Gorgeous Boy was growing. I know numbers don't mean anything when it comes to babies and children--my Swan Princess is twenty pounds underweight according to the charts, but she's my healthiest kid. The numbers on the scale, however, were a source of pride for me that helped me out of the depression.

All of my kids were champion nursers. I know that some people will be horrified of knowing that Princess Peach was three and a half when she stopped nursing, but we both loved every moment of it. It's not true that if babies nurse into toddlerhood they will be clingy or insecure. My Princess Peach is so independent and full of confidence!

When Baby Hulk had to stay in the NICU after birth, I was terrified that I wouldn't be able to nurse him, even though I had done it four times before. During the first days, the only thing I could do for him was pumping every two or three hours. It was emotionally and physically taxing. But the first day he was fed my milk though the feeding tube, he looked so content all the efforts were worth it--for him.

Little by little, the nurses allowed me to nurse him. At first, he'd fall asleep, but he caught on really well. Each time he tried he did better and better, until he didn't need the feeding tube anymore and eventually he came home with me. We're both pros now. I don't count the minutes he nurses or how many times he swallows.

I don't take it for granted though.

I know many mothers aren't able to nurse their babies for one reason or another, and I love that I can choose how I want to nurture my baby. I'm grateful that I come from a culture that holds nursing mothers in such high esteem. There are no special nursing covers or rooms in Argentina (or there weren't when I lived there), but mothers and their babies were welcomed and respected everywhere.

During the years, many times I've seen my kids pretend-nurse their "babies" (from teddy bears to action figures). I hope their minds can also distill the essence from the memories: breastfeeding is not only natural, but also sacred. It saves lives.

In Princess Peach's room I have a painting of an angel holding a nursing mother. I've felt the embrace of angels many a night when comforting a baby.

Happy International Breastfeeding Week! Maybe one day we won't even need such a celebration. After all, how many "International Breathing Weeks" do we have?

Statue of Mary nuring Jesus

The New Wildthing in My Life

Many of you know that I was expecting a baby this summer, and even though I had planned on keeping the blog current to link to all kinds of awesome articles and sources for new moms, I let my blog go. Again. I had several reasons though. One of them is that I discovered that it's a completely different experience being pregnant for the first time, or while parenting toddlers, to being pregnant when all four of my kids had busier schedules than I ever did. I was exhausted. All the time! I hardly had time to write, but I made myself work on three different projects until the very end of the pregnancy. I read ferociously. I immersed myself in words to distract my mind from the atrocious itching I always get as a result of suffering from Intrahepatic Cholastasis of Pregnancy, also known as ICP or OC. I had it with all my kids, but when before symptoms didn't start until the third trimester, this time, they showed at 11 weeks.

If the itching weren't bad enough, the exhaustion and weakness (also a result of ICP) exacerbated the fear of losing this kid. You see, the main risk of ICP is a high incidence of stillbirth during the three last weeks of pregnancy. Needless to say, I was pretty much maniacal at the end.

My due date was yesterday, July 22nd, but my baby was born three weeks early. His birth was nothing like that of the other kids. I went from two idyllic homebirths to the NICU.

He spent a whole week in the NICU. A week that really made me understand the meaning of time stopping when things are bad. That week seemed like a lifetime. Looking back on it, I don't even know how I made it through it all, other than the fact that I felt myself and my fears and worries lifted by angels, heavenly and those here on Earth. 

I understood the real meaning of envy. Hot, acidic, pervading envy when another baby went home and mine didn't. I never knew that feeling existed. I hated it.

But I also felt gratitude and joy like never before. Freedom. Going back home with my baby felt like I had been set free.

I'm writing again. Yesterday I read a chapter I wrote weeks ago, and guess what? It wasn't horrible. In fact, I liked it so much, this morning I woke up looking forward to updating the blog. And writing. And new stories. I think I'm back to almost normal. Almost.

A tribute to Max and the Wild Things

Sad but true: I rely on twitter for my news. This morning, I checked the trending topics and all sleepiness left me in a second. Most trending topics had to do with Maurice Sendak, Max, and the wild Things. Unlike many twitter deaths, this one was real. It might be that I'm over-emotional. Being in the last trimester of my fifth pregnancy gives me that right. The thing is that I've spent most of the morning mourning for someone I never met in real life, but oh! how much influence he's had in mine!

I didn't know about Max and the Wild Things when I was a kid (I know. I cry for little Yamile too), but my husband did. In fact, in his early childhood, Jeff thought he was THE Max. I have pictures and countless family stories to prove it. Jeff, the epitome of a business man, always busy and on the phone, was a Max.

This morning he was already busy on the phone, but when I told him the news, I caught a glimpse of the young boy he was, and what sad news this were for him. 

I read Where the Wild Things Are for the first time when my Handsome Boy was still a little baby. I loved it immediately. It wouldn't become our family's book until El Cangri came along, and he hit his crisis that lasted the good part of his first four years. With El Cangri, we read the book first thing in the morning, before nighttime, and before bedtime--in both, English and Spanish. El Cangri knew all the words. He still does. Every time we reached the page in which Max is chasing the poor dog with a fork, he'd ask if the dog was Coco (our Maltese), and I said yes. His eyes would get all shiny and bright as he whispered, "And that's me!" I'm sure he wondered how in the world he had ended up in the pages of a book. 

One Halloween, before I even knew the movie was coming out, I made a wolf costume for El Cangri, which is still our kids' favorite outfit :-) 

El Cangri during his Max stage

Now, my Princess Peach reminds me so much of Max, although in a different way. She's not mad (usually); she's just plain wild. I love her so much for it! The dogs are terrified of her though. The other day, Jeff spent a long time searching for Dandi, our Yorkie. He finally found her here:

Dandi, waiting for Papa to rescue her

I read through my twitter feed and was touched by the way thousands of people said their goodbyes to Maurice. Perhaps the one tribute that hit me the most was: "I hope someone kept supper warm for you."

There's a lovely article on The New York Times too. (Disclaimer: the comments made me cry more than the article itself. Just saying).

Have a lovely trip, Maurice, sailing the seas to where the wild things are, you King of them all!

Please share: What's your favorite Sandak book or any other kids' book? I'd love to have a discussion!

A True Gentleman

The last couple of weeks haven't been good for us, Barça fans. We lost the first game against Chelsea for the Champions League Semi-final; we lost El Clasico and almost all hopes for La Liga to Real Madrid, and we tied on the second game against Chelsea, losing our spot on the finals. Messi missed a penalty kick (he's human after all), and the tie left us a taste of defeat. Last Friday came the last straw, when I woke up to the sad news of Pep Guardiola's decision of resigning as the coach of the first team.

I could see it coming, but I'm a Saggitarious! I always keep a glimmer of hope (proof is, I still think we still have a shot at La Liga :-)

Pep cited exhaustion as the main reason behind his decision. He gave his all to the team in these last four wonderful years. He's empty now. He has nothing left to give. Like someone mentioned on twitter, the guy aged ten years in the last four!

I just wanted to say thank you, Pep, for the leadership. Thank you for the example of ultimate sportsmanship. I hope that throughout their lives, my children may have the priviledge of having leaders such as Guardiola, who respect their principles beyond any score or title, who never stop demanding but the best, who believe there's always one more goal to achieve.

Pep, you have inspired me beyond words. And I will miss you every weekend, directing and comandeering the best futbol team that has ever existed. Because of course, Barça without Xavi and Iniesta, Puyo and Messi would never be the same. Barcelona without Pep won't be the same, but life continues. The mark of the leader is more noticeable when they're gone. I know Pep's legacy will extend for years, if not ever. I'll certainly remember him always.

 Best Strategist Ever. He knew where the magic was needed. 

No, he's not a top model. He's The Gentleman of the most beautiful game of the world.

The Tooth Gatherers

Like every April, the Utah Children's Writers Blog is featuring a new story each day: 30 stories, 30 days.

Today, my short story, The Tooth Gatherers, is featured on the blog, and I'd love for you to read it!

I wrote it for my Princess Peach (formerly known as Princess Chubbers). She's anxiously awaiting for her baby teeth to start falling off, but they just won't budge! I guess that after surviving so many blows by falls, being kicked by a child on a swing, and a toxic daily dose of sugar, they're not giving up easily!

I hope you enjoy it. Let me know your thoughts!

Marina finally lost a tooth. She’s not the youngest in her kindergarten class, but she’s the last one to show off a gap in her impish smile.
Her friend Ashley is an expert on losing teeth. She lost the first one in preschool, two years ago. “Polish your tooth and put it under your pillow for the Tooth Fairy,” she advises in a grave voice. “That’s the only thing you have to do.” 
“The Tooth Fairy,” Marina says in awe.
The whole kindergarten class agrees that the Tooth Fairy comes at night and that just like Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny, she has special powers. No one has ever seen her or caught her. The cleaner and healthier the tooth is, the more money she brings!
Marina clasps her tooth in her hand and runs all the way home with her wonderful news. She presses her tongue in the gap where her tooth used to be. Her heart flutters with the promise of magic and a golden coin.
Abuelo is waiting for her at the door, like every day.
“I lost a tooth!” she screams, jumping into his arms that are still strong enough to make her fly in the air.
Abuelo beams at her. He’s an expert on losing teeth too, but losing them doesn’t make him happy at all.
“Now you can put it under your pillow. It’s so healthy and clean, I’m sure El Raton Perez will bring you a present,” he says and goes back inside the house to prepare her after-school snack.
El Raton Perez? Marina has never heard of this mouse before.
Could a whole classroom of friends be wrong? Who’s telling the truth? Who is the official Tooth Gatherer: The Tooth Fairy or El Raton Perez?
She decides to ask Mama. Mama knows everything.
But this time, Mama doesn’t answer the question right away. She thinks about it for a long time before she says, “Ill ask Papa.”
Mama and Papa talk for a long time. They call Abuelo. The three of them whisper in Spanish behind the office door. Marina’s heart beats so loudly she can’t hear a word they say.
The grownups look worried. Their worry is contagious. 
In opposite corners of the kitchen, like luchadores in a ring, the Tooth Fairy and El Raton Perez glare at each other. They shake their fists and mutter under their breath.
“This is my territory. This house has been in the Tooth Fairy Atlas since it was built decades ago!” the Tooth Fairy says, stomping a foot.
“And La Sociedad Internacional of El Raton Perez has served this family for generations! I remember Abuelo, Mama and Papa when they lost their own teeth! I’ve waited for years for this moment. I won’t forsake my stewardship!” El Raton Perez squeaks. Even his whiskers blush with indignation.  
They leave the house their separate ways, but with the same destination: straight to file a complaint at the Society for the Protection of Magical Childhood Companions.
Santa Claus presides the audience, assisted by The Three Kings. The Easter Bunny takes note of the proceedings.
“Your Honor,” says El Raton Perez with a flourish of his feathered hat, “I humbly beg for your assistance in preserving this young girl’s cultural patrimony.”
Santa Claus nods his head and directs his attention to the Tooth Fairy.
She curtsies and smiles. She doesn’t need any charming powders to make them all fall in love with her. “I understand Mr. Perez, the Mouse, has served this family for generations. Marina was born in this country though, and in this country, I have jurisdiction. Thank you.”
Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and the Three Kings deliberate and argue in hushed tones, sounding exactly like Mama, Papa and Abuelo in the office a few hours ago.
El Raton Perez clutches his hat in his hands to prevent himself from biting his nails. The Tooth Fairy fans herself with a rose petal. The courtroom, filled beyond capacity, bubbles with speculation. What’s more important? The place where the child is born or the culture of the family?
Finally, the Sandman calls everyone to attention. The judge has reached a verdict.
Santa Claus clears his voice before he says, “Which takes precedence? You two are not the first ones to come to this court with this concern. Why! Even my friends The Three Kings and I had a similar dispute centuries ago!”
“How did you fix it?” asks the Mouse.
“Who won?” asks the Tooth Fairy.
Santa Claus and the Three Kings smile, full of wisdom and experience.
“Who won? Why, the child of course! How did we fix it? Working together!”
The crowd mutters in approval.
“Let the child decide. Our mission is to make Marina happy and preserve the magic of childhood, which is more fragile than a crystal.”
The Tooth Fairy and El Raton Perez leave the courtroom in silence, but this time they stay together. The Tooth Fairy shakes flying powder on the mouse. El Raton Perez opens his green polka-dotted umbrella over the Tooth Fairy to protect her hair-do from the night dew.
They arrive to Marina’s house just in time for bedtime.
Abuelo sits on Marina’s bed, holding her hand.
“Abuelo, what should I do? Papa says El Raton Perez has been a friend of our family’s for always. What if he didn’t follow you and my parents to this country? What if he can’t get in? Does he need a passport?” Marina asks.
Abuelo listens in silence while Marina continues, “Mama says that since I was born in this country we have to adopt its customs. My friends have never heard of this mouse you and Papa talk about. What should I do?”
Marina opens her hand and shows Abuelo her white tooth.
The Tooth Fairy and El Raton Perez look at the gleaming tooth in ecstasy.
It would complete El Raton Perez’s family collection.
It would be the perfect jewel to start a new collection for the Tooth Fairy too.
“I’ll abide by her decision,” El Raton Perez says, although it takes much fortitude for him to pronounce the words.
“Whatever makes her happy,” says the Tooth Fairy, wiping a tear from her eyes.
Marina waits for Abuelo’s advise.
El Raton Perez and the Tooth Fairy hold hands in the shadows.
Finally, Abuelo says, “Our family comes from all the corners of the world. You’re both an American and a Latina girl. You were born in this beautiful place we now call home, but you also carry a beautiful heritage. You’re like a river that runs over many lands. You carry the best from all the places our family has loved.”
He kisses Marina on the forehead before he leaves the room.
Marina opens a pewter box with a fairy engraved on the lid. She polishes her baby tooth for the last time and carefully places it on a cotton pillow. Before she closes the lid, she also puts a silk flower for the Tooth Fairy and a piece of cheese for the mouse.
“You can both come to my house,” Marina whispers with closed eyes. “I am both a girl of this land and the land my family came from. Mama says sharing is important. You can both share me.”
The Tooth Fairy and El Raton Perez hug each other and promise to always work together and advise the other in every need. They will share Marina’s teeth.
The most important duty of being a Tooth Gatherer is the happiness of the child.
The next day, there isn’t a happier child than Marina. She holds a golden coin from the country she was born and a silver coin from the country her family came from. In her heart, she has the best present of all: the knowledge that she belongs to two cultures, and she is only richer for it.  

JIG, the movie

 Swan Princess at her last feis, in which she took 3 first place, 2 second place, and 2 third place medals

Contrary to many stereotypes about women, Latina women, and writers I LOVE sports and movies about sports. Yes, even American football. Remember the Titans is a favorite of mine. I'm not an athlete, but in my family we ate, breathed, talked and dreamed futbol. My husband was athlete of the year his senior year of high-school, so it was only natural that when our kids came along, they'd be in sports.

Swan Princess, my first daughter, tried T-ball and futbol. She didn't like it. She preferred ballet which has been a passion of hers since she was three years old. She's now the youngest in her class and has such a grace and pose that seeing her dance takes my breath away.

A few years ago, we went to our city's Summer festival, the Highland Fling, in which one of the performing groups was an Irish Dance group. Swan Princess was mesmerized, looking at the dancers with such admiration and longing that I still get chills when I remember that day she found her true love.

She's been an Irish dancer ever since. She attends The Shelley School of Irish Dance (we're so blessed to live just a few miles from one of Utah's best Irish dance instructors!). Unlike my boys, whom I have to bribe and beg to practice, Swan practices several hours a day. All on her own. She never walks. She leaps and hops and dances instead. When she can't dance, like at church or school, she goes over the steps with her fingers on her lap or the desk.

There are three major feiseana (competitions) here in Utah every year, and she's always preparing for them. Since she's now a preliminary champion, we'll have to start traveling for her to have more opportunities to compete. Last night, I saw JIG, a documentary about the greatest Irish Dance competition of all: The World Championships.

The documentary follows several children, both boys and girls, in their journey to the tournament. Some of these kids are only ten years old! They have such passion and determination, that at the end of the show I was in tears. I had a greater desire to pursue my dreams with more dedication, to write with more passion, to do my time at the computer every single day.

Jig is available on Netflix and on Amazon video. In fact, I rented it for $2.99 for a whole week! I bought the DVD too because now it's one of my favorite shows too.

What things inspire you? I hope this little trailer inspires you too :-)

Dilemma

Last summer, I had the privilege of attending the Writing and Illustrating for Young Readers Conference (WIFYR) with the amazing Martine Leavitt. I learned so much during that week, that months later, I'm still processing all the wonderful information.

One of the things that impressed me the most was when Martine taught us the principle of "the object of desire." What does the main character want? Is it clear on the first page? On the first chapter at the very least?

Ever since, I haven't been able to read a book or watch a movie without looking for the main character's object of desire, or the dilemma.

My first grader brought home a story that he wrote at school.
I'm going to transcribe it here (misspellings and all) because I think it's a great example of showing the main character's dilemma.

If my mom and dad were snowpeople I would cook and do the dishes.
I would make a igloo for the snowpeople. 
If my mom cook she would melt.
If my dad stayed inside he would melt.
If I stayed with them I would be a snowman.
I am so sad.

First of all, allow me, AWWWW.  Isn't it cute?

Okay.

Can you see the main character's dilemma? The parents would melt if they stayed with the boy, in the house. If the boy stayed with the parents, he would become a snowperson too.

I wish I learned this in first grade too :-)

What do you think? Do you think it's important to know the dilemma in the first pages? Why? Why not?

Blogfiesta and Awards

My dear friend Julie is having a birthday today, and to celebrate, she's hosting a super Blogfiesta. It's super easy to enter, and the prize will be a Barnes and Noble or Amazon $25 gift card. Head over there and enter! She has a wonderful blog full of useful idea and information, especially on how to survive the zombie apocalypse :-) She also passed along a blog award to me.

These are the rules that were so clearly stated on her blog, that I just copied and pasted (my excuse is that I haven't slept in days. More on that, another day)

The rules are simple:
Name 5 blogs with under 200 followers that are totally awesome and deserve the award.
Link to those five blogs, as well as the blogger who awarded the award, and let your picks know they are the winners.
Share the love and help an undiscovered blog find the readership it deserves.

Yet another reason the blogging community rocks!

My five blog choices are:

Marilyn Almodovar: I met her through twitter and is a super writer.
  Shar: an amazing writer I had the pleasure to meet at the WIFYR conference almost two years ago. I seriously can't wait for her book to be published. It's amazing!
Carolyn: I met her online too, and then we've met over the years at several writers' conferences in Utah. Carolyn has the best attitude in the world!
Christy: not only is she a great writer, she's also an amazing Irish dancer.
Keru (a. k. a. Manny): a writer I just met through the Favorite Character blogfest, and whose comments were super nice.

It took me forever to link all these wonderful blogs, but it's done! (I hope they all work!)

Author Laura Josephsen is hosting a Favorite Character Blogfest, and I'm participating! I didn't have to think much to choose a favorite character, although an ever increasing number of characters populate my mind and to talk me incessantly.

My all-time favorite character is Diego, the love futbol star of my manuscript SOUTHERN CROSS. Diego is Camila's (my main character's) love interest. Since the book is written from her point of view, we don't get to know Diego's thoughts. But I love what others say about him:

Camila:
"Looking like a rock star, surrounded by admirers, he cupped his hands around his mouth
so I could hear him from across the street. “I’ll call you later, Camila!” he said.
    I hope he meant tonight."

"As if he feels my eyes on him, Diego turns around and looks straight at me. He grins that smile I’m sure boys take secret lessons for. The fútbol star replaces the forlorn lost boy."


“'I was getting worried about you,' Diego says. He stands up to take my backpack from
my hands.
    When he kisses my cheek, a thousand replies blare in my mind. The more prominent are:
    Looking great, Titan.
    I missed you and it’s only been fourteen hours since I last saw you.
    Marry me."


Father Hugo, from the orphanage where Diego grew up:
 “I always knew he’d
reach far and high. I’m so proud of him. I dare wager that even without his adoptive mom, he would have still risen from his dire circumstances. Diego was born a fighter. "

The kids from the orphanage:
"Several dark-haired little ones run inside the house yelling, “The Titan came to play.
Diego came!”
    “Don’t make them crazy. It’s all I ask,” Father Hugo implores.
    “I’ll do my best,” Diego says and runs to meet his greatest admirers, chasing them with
open arms.
    The kids shriek, ecstatic."

I am a futbol fanatic, and I there are several futbol players I admire tremendously. Diego was loosely based on a couple of kids who lived in my barrio in Argentina, and made it to the "big leagues." They are everyone's heroes. The pride and joy of us all.

I'm looking forward to reading the other participants' entries! Thanks to my friend Julie for the link to this awesome opportunity. For details on how to participate, click on the button!

New Year (2 weeks later, I know!), New Beginnings (because it's never too late)

New year, new beginnings, a new novel to work on, a new baby in the family. Make that two babies, because added to Rosalia's, my sweet sister-in-law (whom I totally admire and adore), will be my own little baby, my number five. I'll have my own futsal team! We couldn't be happier. And I talk in plural because all six of us are ecstatic, as is the rest of our extended family, which keeps getting bigger and bigger.

I'm excited about 2012 and the challenges it will bring, those that I'm already anticipating and those I'm sure will take me by surprise. Being the stereotypical Sagittarius (spell check suggested "sanatorium." Hmmm, maybe suggesting I should be in one?), I'm the eternal optimistic. Will this be the year I find a great agent to work with? Will the agent be the one who'll find me? Will this be the year I write the "one"? Will I find the courage to apply for the MFA program I've been researching for years and years?

One morning, on the way to the school bus stop, still obscenly early to be awake, the kids and I were talking about goals. El Cangri's goal seemed to be to remain awake long enough to make it to his seat on the bus. But the two older kids were interested in what my goals were. As usual, I got carried away, and by the time the bus arrived, I must have named at least a hundred.

There are so many things I want to do! Luckily, losing weight isn't one of them (can't because of the baby. Come July, I'll be doing Crossfit every day. Or so I say now). But I'll take it one day at the time. For now, one of my main ones is to write a little every day. I'm already doing my morning pages, but I also want to keep up with the blog, make it pretty, meet new people in the blogosphere. I'll start by posting once a week. I know I've said this before, but it's the new year, even though it took me almost two weeks to come to terms with it.

Oh! This year, because I don't waste enough time online ;-), I signed up on pinterest. Today, I found this and pinned in on my board (?). I'm still not fluent in pinterest's lingo. But I thought it was apropos, and I wanted to share.

What are some of your goals for the year?

Source: farewellstranger.com via Rowena on Pinterest

Is it really the end of the year?

I can't believe it's already December. Being immersed in NaNoWriMo makes me forget all about getting ready for Christmas, our family trip in less than two weeks, Nutcracker, and a million end of the year parties. Every year, on December 1st, I feel like I'm waking up from a dream (or a nightmare) and realize I have to do a million things when all I want to do is sleep. Who can really function with this cold? It was only 14 degrees this morning (-10 in Celsius!).

Come December, I always feel like the year has blown by. The years seem to go faster as I get older too. So, I decided to make a list of 2011 favorite things.

Music has the number one spot.  My favorite song, by far, is Latinoamerica, by Calle 13.

Even if you don't understand the lyrics in Spanish, I think the spirit of the song and the beautiful images of the video don't need any translation. It's an Anthem for America, from the North Pole to Antarctica.

My kids' heroes

 Lately my girls have been--how to say this?--obsessed (!) with the movie SOUL SURFER, which tells the real story of professional surfer Bethany Hamilton. I won't spoil the movie if I say it's about her recovering after a shark attack; it's common knowledge (unless you were like me and just found out when the movie came out). But to say it's only about her being attacked would ignore the most important point of the movie: how to go on with life and still fight for our dreams even when it seems impossible. Bethany transcended tragedy and the odds stacked against her, and became a real life heroine through her will to live and overcome, her family's support, and her faith in God.

Bethany was already an amazing person before the accident. After the accident, she became a voice for those who go through traumatizing situations and don't understand why bad things sometimes happen to good people.

I love the movie because the producers and director didn't take out a central piece of information about Bethany: she's a devout, practicing Christian. They show her going to church, right at the beach, still wet after a fun surfing session (wouldn't I love that, especially in this Utah winter weather!), and going to a youth church meeting. She also goes to a humanitarian mission, and she constantly expresses her belief in Jesus-Christ.

Before the accident, her teacher, who by the way is played by Carrie Underwood, shares a scripture from the Bible, Jeremiah 29:11.

For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.

This is the central theme of the movie, in my opinion. God always has a plan for us.

At the end of the movie, when a reporter asks her if she would undo what happened if she could, she shakes her head and says, "Surfing isn't the most important thing in life. Love is. I've had the chance to embrace more people with one arm than I ever could with two."

I never imagined a movie could have such an impact on a four-year old. My Princess Peach quotes the movie, goes to sleep listening to the soundtrack, and when she builds with her connectagons, she creates figurines of surfers, and let's not forget the judges. Yesterday she declared that instead of having a Vivint. birthday party, she wants a surfing party. I had plenty of Vivint things to improvise a birthday party, although, what would I give as party favors? An alarm system? For a surfing party I'll have to be more creative. Especially for a bunch of preschoolers.

Swan Princess is into all things surfing and Hawaiian too. Yesterday, when I picked her up at the bus stop, she declared that she finally knows where she's going to college. Until now she wanted to go to Julliard, but now it's BYU Hawaii :-)

I'm grateful my girls have Bethany Hamilton as her heroine. The best heroines, after all, are the ones in real life, and they don't even need special super powers to do wonders. They only need their powers within.  

Who are your heroes? Who are the heroes you borrowed from your children? :-)

To end, here's a video I found:

THIS is why I love it so much

Today Barcelona added another trophy to their already cluttered collection. I celebrated each goal (Iniesta1, Messi 2) and protested after each foul by the Real Madrid players in the same way as if I were at the stadium. Good thing my husband's out of town :-)

I'm still in a daze for finally seeing Cesc Fabregas wearing the blaugrana jersey of the first team (doesn't he look awesome? He's the first from the right). My happiness turned into outrage when Marcelo tackled Cesc at the end of the game.

The fight that followed the infraction for which a red wasn't enough, and Ozil's and Villa's red cards for punching each other are nothing compared to what when Real Madrid's coach Jose Mourinho did. He attacked the Barcelona assistant coach, Vilanova, and then laughed about it.

I love the goals and celebration, but I hate the violence. Violence in the field creates violence in the stands.

In spite of all of that, my favorite part, and the reason I love futbol so much, is shown at the 1 minute mark of the following video. Gonzalo Higuain, Real Madrid 20, is outraged, and fellow Argentine Javier Mascherano tries to calm him down. Mascherano is Barcelona's 14. The thing that I love the most is that in spite of belonging to rival teams, the Montegue and Capulets of the futbol world, these two guys belong to a team that takes precedence over the team they work at. They're both part of the Argentine National team and they look after one another. A few seconds into the video, I saw Barcelona's Dani Alves comforting fellow Brazilian, the Merengue Kaka. Same thing. They're Brazilians and friends first. The rivalry comes last.

Of course, someone may argue that in both teams that are several Spanish National team players that hate each other, but that's another argument. For the most part, the futbol players in this match avoided aggression and protected their friends, disregarding the jersey they were wearing at the time.

Futbol is passion but it's also a brotherhood. And I love it.

Morning Pages and Conferences

As I mentioned a few weeks ago, I'm doing the 12 week Artist's Way program. One of the first exercises Julia Cameron prescribes is the writing of three pages every morning, before doing anything else. This is supposed to be the place and space to spit out all the self-doubt and fears, so that by the time a writer or artist of any kind is ready to settle to work, the fears and doubts have already been said and can't block the artist's progress anymore.

I don't know if I'm doing them right or not, but to me, they have become a sort of journal. More personal than a journal in fact, because in my official journal, I keep in mind someone (my family) might read it in the future. With the morning pages, I ramble and babble without direction. Once in a while though, I'll put in writing something that has been in my mind for a while, sometimes even without being conscious of it. These sparks of self-discovery are fueling my story. I read somewhere that if you do something for at least 21 days, it becomes a habit. I've been doing the morning pages for longer than that--I'm in week 7--and I really hope they're here to stay. Even if they're only good enough to take all my whining and complaining.

On other news, WriteOnCon, the amazing free writing conference organized by the amazing Elana Johnson and company is taking place right now. Click here for a recap of today. There's plenty of food for thought. Oy! If you're a writer, don't forget to enter the contests and numerous critiques in the forums. Who knows who may find you there? 

Back from the Summer and surprise! It's still Summertime!

I just came back home from El Paso, and I'm so excited to still have one more month before the kids go back to school! No more going away every summer because of Jeff's work! It's been an adventure every year, visiting new places like the real Little House on the Prairie or exploring Washington DC or downtown El Paso. Both are scary and exciting places at the same time and for the same and different reasons, if it makes sense at all. But I'm glad to be home!

Although I kind miss the endless summers that didn't have school/futbol/dance/piano/guitar looming at the end, I also love the routine school brings to our lives, and yes, the quiet and the time to read and write. I guess I'm into long sentences today, and that's okay with me if it is with you. I'm blogging, mainly because I worried people would think I died or something. So Julie, here I am, although the plan was to blog every week. It didn't go as planned, but here I am :-)

I'll upload some pictures later this week. I'm just getting used to being back home and knowing we're not leaving any time soon.

How's your summer been so far? I know Julie has had a ton of adventures and experiences. I want to see some pictures too. And Tiffany? She's been to Europe! Her pictures are amazing! How about the rest of you?

Eternal student

A couple of weeks ago I attended the WIFYR writers' conference. The best part of the conference was the morning workshop with Martine Leavitt, author of Keturah And Lord Death, Tom Finder, and Heck Superhero among other amazing books. I'm still trying to internalize the wealth of knowledge I received during the week, and I plan on posting the things that stood out the most to me. My other favorite thing about the conference is attending the panels where authors and agents talk not only about the industry, but also about the craft. Mary Kole, agent of the Andrea Brown agency, talking about online presence, said, "If you have a blog, update it often. If you don't post for a year, people are going to wonder if you're alive.
I laughed and nodded my head because I do just that: I go months before posting sometimes. My excuse is that if I blog, I take my time away from my writing. But if I don't, I miss out on the interaction with my "online friends."
I don't promise to update every day, but I will do it more often than I have done before.
On the workshop, Martine recommended the Artist's Way, a book many others have recommended before, so I ordered it and brought it to El Paso with me, along with a whole lot of books about writing. This morning, I woke up early and wrote my Three Morning Pages, an exercise Julia Cameron recommends for artists to unblock. I wrote three pages of rambling, and I don't know if it was that, or the exercise shake I just took, but I'm full of energy and desire to write. And I haven't felt this way for a long time.
What are you doing this summer? Attending conferences? Taking a break from creating? I'd love to know.

New Contest and my first page

Shelly Waters is holding an amazing contest. Again. This time we have to post the first page of our book for an opportunity to have ten pages critiqued by Judith Engracia of Liza Dawson and Associates!

I know I've had this page, chapter and book critiqued to death. But several extra eyes won't hurt! Thanks for taking the time to read my entry. I'll hop blogs to leave my critique too.

Title: SOUTHERN CROSS
Genre: YA Literary Fiction
Word Count: 87,000 words

Lies have short legs. I’ve known this ominous proverb since before I could speak.
    Who among my ancestors brought the saying across the Atlantic all the way to Argentina?
    My Russian great-grandmother embroidered it on a pillow after her first boyfriend broke her heart. My Palestinian grandfather whispered it to me every time my mom found his stash of wine bottles hidden in the unlikeliest places, like underneath my bed. My Andalusian grandmother repeated it like a mantra, lost in her old woman insanity, before her memories and regrets called her to the next life.
    Perhaps the saying doesn’t belong to any language, and sprouted from this land the early explorers thought encrusted with silver, and my immigrant family adopted the expression like its own.  
    In spite of seventeen years of practice, my lies’ legs haven’t grown stronger or faster. I know the consequences of lying to my father. A reflex slap that will leave my face burning for hours. A session of yelling and blaming his worries on a daughter who’s not as beautiful as her mother nor as smart as he is. A litany of all the reasons he gave my mom for not having any more children after Pablo—perfect, beautiful Pablo—was born.
     With all these thoughts clamoring in my head, I still went to the stadium to watch my brother play in the Scoundrels’ opening match of the season. My brother and that other boy whom the press calls the Titan because on the pitch, he’s more than a god. Diego Ferrari.

Perfection

I'm not perfect doing my Insanity workout. But I do it every day, and I enjoy it. I promise I do. And I do pretty well on my diet, except on Sundays or when my mom cooks and makes the most delicious food in the world.

Today I can't blame my mom. It's May 29th, and in Argentina ("and now here in Utah," Chubbers said) we have the tradition of making gnocchi (potato dumplings) and putting a one dollar bill underneath each plate. Every January I resolve to follow this tradition, and each 29th goes by and I forget all about it. It's May, but it's still a month closer to 2011 than to 2012. I'm already doing better than ever.

As soon as my daughters saw me don my apron, they ran to put theirs on.
Making gnocchi is dirty business: floured counter tops el Cagri blew on every time he walked past, sticky hands, dogs underfoot hoping to catch a fallen ball of dough. But the girls' faces as they were helping roll the balls and make the little shells was priceless. I don't have a lot of memories of my grandmother Elena. She wasn't the grandmotherly kind. But I remember going to her house on Sundays, and looking at her hands transform a glob of potato, eggs and flour into a delicacy. I never knew how she could knead so fast. I guess that after seven kids (six of whom were boys), she learned to work fast.

 I'm not sure my gnocchi turned out as Abuela Elena's, but they were delicious. I see something of Abuela in Chubbers and Swan. Maybe Perfection skipped a generation.

And last but not least, I can't talk of perfection and not mention Lio Messi's goal yesterday against Manchester United for the Europe Champion League's Final. He's personified perfection, the god of futbol. Maybe in the future, someone will write a biography of the best futbol player that has ever existed--him--and I'll be shocked to find out crazy things about him. Maybe not. For now, he's perfect, the reason futbol even exists. Take a look at his work of art. It makes me cry.
 

The Flaws in my favorites

Last weekend I read a very popular YA Contemporary author for the first time. I write in the same genre, and I was curious to learn how her books became such favorites. So with pen in hand (I always take notes on my books; that's why I like to buy my own), I dove into the story.

It took me a while to get into it. But before I realized what time it was, or what page number I was in and still no major Plot Turning Point, I was already in love with the characters, and I really wanted them to succeed and achieve their goals, AKA, each other.


And when I finished the book, the characters stayed with me, and I was mad at myself for finishing the book so fast. Now, I want to get this author's other books, and see if they make a cameo appearance in another story (I read they do! And I'm so excited to see them again even if it's not in their stories).

My favorite author is Carlos Ruiz Zafon. His book aren't structurally perfect. There's some telling, some repetition, but I love his characters; I think about them all the time.

In preparation for the WIFYR conference, I also read Keturah And Lord Death. Again. It's the perfect book. I didn't find a single thing that could even be questionable. I love the dialog, the characters, the subtle descriptions that make my mind take flights and fill in the blanks. The beautiful, lyrical language. I love Lord Death.



That's why I love to read. To lose myself into someone else's world for a few hours and when I'm finished, love or hate those characters that are now a part of me.

I'm working on my second draft of HEAR YE MORTALS, my Gothic YA with a boy main character, and I'm having a hard time with it. There's so many rules to follow, my inner editor is so loud that my creative side of me has been a little  muffled lately. So this week, I plan on letting myself go, let these characters take life again, live outside of the charts and outlines. Maybe some day another person will love them (or hate them) as much as I love them. Because I love these people that speak in my mind, even the bad guy, because I know his motivations and where he comes from.

Do you love any stories even though you find flaws in them? Which ones?

LDStorymakers 2011 and my winner first chapter

Last week I had the opportunity to attend the LDStorymakers 2011 writers' conference. If you attend one conference a year, this is the one you should choose. The tuition was very affordable, with options for people who could only attend one day or all three.

I have a wonderful critique group that I treasure. My partners are all incredibly talented, supportive, and knowledgeable. They're usually the ones who read the earlier drafts of my books, and I trust them to offer helpful but kind criticism. Sometimes it's also very helpful to have people whom you don't know and don't know you read your work too. During bootcamp and the Publication Primer classes, all my companions offered invaluable advice, and even if in a couple of instances I didn't agree with something right away, as the days went by, I recalled their words and read their comments and realized that they might be right! Or I saw my chapter from another perspective. That, is gold for the writers' mind.

Due to some scheduling conflicts, I wasn't able to attend Larry Brooks' class(yes, the guy who writes storyfix.com, the best writers' reference blog out there, in my opinion), but he gave the keynote address. Larry is a pragmatic kind of guy but an advocate for being a prepared writer, or a writer with a plan, even if it's only just in your mind. I loved that he said we all have the tools to succeed as writers, we just need to learn the craft.

I also had the chance to pitch agent Becca Stumpf, from the Prospect Agency. I wasn't dying of anxiety because right before my pitch appointment, I attended a class by her, and she's a lovely person. She was very enthusiastic about my project, and made the ten minutes pass by like a breeze.

On Saturday during lunch, the first chapter contest winners were announced. I really didn't have a lot of hope. But I'm a Saggitarius, I can't help being optimistic :-) so every time I thought about the announcement, I had butterflies in my stomach.

They started by announcing fifth place. There were so many entries for YA Fiction. My name wasn't in fifth, fourth, third, and then for the second place, they announced A BLIND EYE, from none other than my dear friend Julie Daines! I was so happy I teared up. Last year she won first place. So when they announced her name, I told her, "You're the queen of first chapters."
And then, I saw my title on the screen, SOUTHERN CROSS, and my name right beneath it. They announced my chapter as the winner. Let me tell you, I totally knew what Harry Potter was feeling on the way to professor Dumbledore when his name came out of the Globet of Fire!

I don't remember how I made it all the way to the podium. My friend Julie gave me a hug, and I cried a little. In fact, when I told my brother later on the phone, the first thing he asked was "Did you cry?"

The best part of all was coming home and finding this from my kids:

And later my friend Julie and her husband brought me more ballons:

And I promise I've been trying not to stare at this certificate all week (I don't know how to turn the pic on this program!)

Most of all, I have hope again for this story. I only queried a few agents, but without any good response. This week, I re-wrote my query letter and I'm working on a few more revisions before I send SOUTHERN CROSS out into the world. If you're interested in reading my first chapter, it's posted on the LDStorymakers site for a month. Click here. Look for Youth Fiction (all other genres besides Fantasy) and you'll see my name, Yamile Mendez. It's still there, so I guess it's true I won :-)

Because I loved Richard Bach's books when I was little.

I remember one day, bored at my aunt's house. My two older cousins were probably out with girlfriends, and the little ones were taking naps. A small, wobbly bookshelf full of books called me into the semi-darkness of the living room--a welcome invitation in a hot summer day.

And there, wedged between two fat books I can't remember was Richard's Bach Messiah's Handbook: Reminders for the Advanced Soul. I think I was in fifth grade, because my next memory is of reading passages of it to my desk partner, a girl named Florencia who smiled like an angel. I read her passages of the book, so excited to share the gems that made my heart burn with the discovery of so many wonderful possibilities. That we can do whatever we set our minds to, that we have no idea of our potential, that I could materialize anything I wanted into my life.

Over the years, I've met a lot of people who read Richard's books. Some of them are still great friends of mine. One of the things he mentioned in one of his books--because after Messiah, I devoured them all--was the concept of parallel universes, of what you could tell your younger self if you could.

Last night, for the first time in a long time, I thought of this concept.

During family dinner the kids were asking me about all the pets I had in my life. I don't know why, but I told them about Pamela, a tiny dachshund that my father gave me when I was seven. She was a pest. I see it now that I'm a mother. But back then, I couldn't understand why my mom, tired of cleaning after the dog, gave her away.

When I finished telling the story, I realized my Chubbers was gone. I found her crying in her room. When she saw me, she ran to me and hugged me so, so tight. "I'm so sorry about your dog, mami," she said between hiccups.

Maybe in a parallel universe, a seven year-old Yamile is crying her heart out over her little dog. I hope she can feel the chubby arms around her neck, and the wet kiss on the cheek trying to console her.

Twitter pitch contest--Updated

Taffy, my fellow Shark and Pebbles member, entered the Show Me the Voice contest and won an agent critique of her manuscript. Since the fates are favoring one of my crit partners, I thought, "Maybe the luck will follow me next time!"
When I saw the amazing contest Shelly Waters is holding in celebration of reaching 100 followers on her blog and 500 on twitter, I decided to enter too. The grand prize is a full manuscript request by no other than Suzie Townsend of Fine Print Literary Management.

Shelley will also select winners for a query critique, which would also be an awesome prize!

The task seems very simple. It consists of writing a twitter pitch of your book. That's a 140 character pitch.
Here's mine for HEAR YE MORTALS, my Young Adult contemporary:

Sebastian, an illegal American in Argentina, finds a way back to the USA that has no room for his cousin, gypsy troupe or senile grandma.

That's 137 characters. Including the period. What do you guys think?

Thank you all for your input! My brain is almost fried, but I came up with a hopefully better entry:

Seba finds way back to his old life in USA. If only his young cousin and senile Nona had visas and Death hadn’t chosen him as next sacrifice.



Thanks for all your help!