Little Boys

I woke up this morning thinking wistfully about little boys.

Once upon a time, little boys determined the course of my every waking hour (and disturbed many of the sleeping ones).  Now, those busy little boys are amazing grown men with only remnants of boyishness in the ways they walk in the world. Gone forever, I suppose, are the smelly basketball shoes on the stairs, the hand-drawn grandiose visions of superhero costumes on the fridge, the tangle of video game controllers in the middle of the living room floor.  No one is learning to play the guitar upstairs anymore, or figuring out how to talk to a girl in the front yard, or agonizing over algebra at the kitchen table.  I never mop up popsicle drips in the doorway or scrape dried cheese from the dining room chairs or cry over melted crayons in the dryer. I have not kissed an "owie" or walked hand-in-hand into a school or carried my little boys in more years than I can remember. 

But I still hug those boys whenever I can.  I poke around in their lives with annoying questions and subtle suggestions and goofy-mom-opinions by text and email and facebook. I bribe them into my presence with food and beer and an occasional load of laundry.  I celebrate their brilliant successes, their hard earned life-lessons, their relationships, their being... 

And their birthdays. 

Today is the birthday of one of the boys who made life crazy fun around here for many years.  He is the reason for my wistfulness.  I woke up wanting to log onto his facebook page and post an old photo from his childhood.  I have wanted to call his parents and marvel over the lightning speed at which birthdays have come and gone.  I so want to be smiling and knowing that my own  son is enjoying the celebration of his childhood friend's 30th birthday.

But Bobby McAlister died tragically, unexpectedly, unbelievably...5 years ago. 

Bobby would have been 30 today.  He was 10 in the Halloween photo above.  He's the "scary" looking hockey player in the middle...
The fun-master. 
The imagination-sparker. 
The Bob-man. 

Oh, how I long to know that boy at 30.

Happy Birthday, Bobby.

Adios Facebook...

...because I have a book to write, and this is how it's going so far: 

Perhaps you, too, remember the days of eschewing the very notion of Facebook.  Really, we would ask around the circle of people older than 21, who needs to know what we are doing every minute of the day? Who cares?  And so, I resisted The Facebook until Summer 2009...when I only signed on so I could share vacation pictures with friends.

Uh huh.  

Soon I stopped calling it The Facebook. Very soon after that, I realized I was starting conversations with friends by saying, "Saw your post..." and, "What? You didn't know that?  Get on Facebook!"

Oy vey.

I have learned of pregnancies, deaths, births, engagements, job losses, break ups, and anniversaries on Facebook.  I have kept up with recipes, movies, good causes, and bad jokes.  I have bragged about my children, brayed about my politics, swooned over travelogues, wept over docmentaries, and cheered birthdays of near strangers.  I'm not saying it's all bad, but it's honestly become a bit all-consuming. 

In the days before Facebook, this is how a writing day would go for me:

• drink coffee
• glance at headlines
• check email
• dress
• write 10 sentences
• drink more coffee
• eat an apple or cookie, depending on my level of self awareness/self pity
• water the plants
• delete 7 of the aforementioned sentences, write 10 more
• start at coffee and repeat for at least five hours...

Here's what happens now:

• drink coffee
• glance at headlines
• check email and Words with Friends and Facebook
• click on every shiny link that calls to me
• wander around the Internet for five hours
• freak out when I see it's 4:30 pm and I'm still not dressed
• grieve the book that isn't writing itself while I hang out with my Facebook friends...

Oh.  And did I mention how many days I also have a bill for $100 or more because one of those shiny links has taken me to, say, Christie Brinkley's face product page and I've succumbed to the promise that in two weeks, with Christie's products, I'll look just like her?  (No, I'm not hyper-linking to Christie Brinkley's product page, but I'm not lying about that). 

So I am officially on haitus from Facebook - or more realistically stated, I'm grounded from Facebook until my book is finished. 

Please, please, please my real friends...if someone you love dies or gets married or has a baby or loses a job or has an operation, a birthday, a starring role in a play, a super bowl commercial...call me.  Or email me.  I am not leaving the planet Earth, just Facebook.  I still have time for friends, just not Christie Brinkley, et al. 

And don't hesitate to check back in here at Finger Stretching from time to time if you miss me. 

Whew.  Who knew it would be this hard to say goodbye? 

Now.  Back to work.

Why I'm Here

I am a writer.  It's not that hard to proclaim about myself  -  a bit harder to make true. 

You see, writers write. 

I launched a blog I was passionate about in the fall of 2008.  Thinking in Peaces was the perfect place for a journalist-turning-novelist to begin a transition from "the facts of life" to "the nuances of life"...and I fed my writer's soul several times a week with full days dedicated to research, pondering, and a poetic turn of editorial phrases.

Then, in 2009, I wrote my first novel. The book has roots in a news event, but is pure fiction.  It was ambitious, but fun in the way that I presume running a 26-mile marathon is fun...the joy being in the preparation, the trust of basic instincts, the lean into known strength, the finish. 

In 2010 I met an agent who expressed genuine interest in the work. By early 2011 I had a contract with said agent.  He was hopeful and enthused which made me hopeful and enthused.  In the ten months since, however, the lessons have been about being gracious in the face of rejection. 

Eleven times grace has been taken to the proving grounds, to date.

So while I am still hopeful about novel #1's chances with a publisher, I am taking at least a few of the eggs out of that basket as quickly as I can...novel #2 is underway. 

Sort of.

The truth is...most days I feel like this is the picture of my success:

If you write, I'm guessing you relate. 

So here I stand, coffee in hand, first few hundred words of a beautiful book in the dropbox folder.  This blog exists to catch me in the act of wandering off task...

At least I'll be writing.

Now.  Back to work.