(setting: NSG, Skywalker, and kids are sitting at the table eating dinner)
NSG: (thoughtful) You know, we always talk about how much we want to raise animals. But Skywalker, have you thought about the fact that this means killing animals? Like, we can't keep boy goats. Maybe one, or even two, but... half the babies that are born every year will have to be sold for meat.
Skywalker: I have thought of that. It's troubling.
NSG: Of course, if we lived in a place that had grazing year round, I guess we could castrate some of them and make them into grazing animals.
Loli: What does castrate mean?
(NSG and Skywalker eye each other, trying to decide who gets this little gem of an explanation)
NSG: (sighing internally) It's where an animal, like a goat, has their boy parts cut off--
Skywalker: (shoulders shaking as he laughs silently at me) not ALL the boy parts. They don't cut off the whole thing!
NSG: (giving Skywalker the evil eye) OK, not ALL the boy parts. Just some of them.
Bella: Which boy parts?
NSG: (ignoring Skywalker's grin of enjoyment and trying to form her lips around what is perhaps the most disgusting couple of words in the English language) they cut off the testicles and scrotum.
Loli: What are testicles?
NSG: They're the part of a boy's private parts that kind of comes down in back. Like, you know, when you see Sammy running around the house naked, how he's got that little bag sort of thing? That's the scrotum. It has these things in it called testicles.
Bella: (completely unperturbed, nodding)
Squirt: (Bright eyed, as Mom describes in great detail his special boy parts) Yeah! That's what I have!
NSG: (abruptly) well that's the part they cut off.
MayMay: Why?
NSG: Well, it means the boy goat can't make babies. And isn't as mean.
Skywalker: and isn't as stinky.
Squirt: (gets up on his chair, thrusts his fingers in the direction of his chest, shrieks) Mom! I have nipples! I have nipples!
NSG: (Buries face in hands.) Yes, Squirt, you do. Good job.
(setting: squirt has just been denied a treat because he wet the bed)
Squirt: Mom, I don't like you!
NSG: I'm sorry you feel that way, Squirt.
Squirt: Mom, you're... (peering at me cautiously, then mumbles) momyou'renotmymom.
NSG: (turns, raises an eyebrow) What did you say? (sidenote: "you're not my mom" is not a phrase kids are allowed to use in the Nosurf home when they're mad... has to do with the whole adoption issue)
Squirt: I... I... (shifting weight from foot to foot) I... you ARE my mom.
NSG: (smiles) yes, I am.
Squirt: I.... if I don't shake my head, you are my mom. If I shake my head, it means you're not my mom. (violently shakes head.)
NSG: (sighs) squirt, go to your room.
Squirt: (Shrieks) No! No! You ARE my mom!!
NSG: For a few minutes squirt. You know we don't use those words to hurt each other in this family.
Squirt: (heading up the stairs to his room!) Mom, I don't like you! Mom, I love you! Mom... I'm going to SLAM THE DOOR!
NSG: OK, squirt. (above, the distant sound of door slamming violently)
Squirt: (ten minutes later, after being let out of his room, suggles up to NSG on the couch) Mom, I'm sowwy I said you're not my mom.
NSG: OK.
Squirt: Mom, I really just like you.
NSG: (squeezing Squirt) I like you too, Squirt.
Squirt: (Springs up, bright eyed) Mom, can I have a treat?
Sep 21, 2011
Sep 20, 2011
Fort Utah: the beginning
Honestly, I think of these blurbs as legend-telling. I go all over the internet and all over the sources I've collected from the library, from those lovely Special Collections at the good old HBLL and also from archived newspaper articles, the entries of a private journal or two that I have at my fingertips because of the nice people at the DUP museums (which I will sometimes reference) or just random family geneology websites where stories are told and anecdotes are cached. The pictures I use in these entries are all pictures I've verified as "allowed by courtesy of___" for purely non-commercial purposes, or have been posted anonymously to various family-history sites on the internet.
So... prepare to enjoy. Not to criticize, argue, or to any degree, complain about what I've got written in these less-than-professional blurbs. And... another tip. If you want to read basically what I've read... put names into your google search engine along with "fort utah" or "Provo" or a relevant date... and you'll pretty much come up with what I've used to write these here things. So, without further ado...
Fort Utah: The Beginning
In 1849, about nine years before I begin Maggie's story, Brigham Young called 30 families to travel south out of Great Salt Lake City (as it was known then) to settle the fertile valleys surrounding Utah Lake. Among these families were the Higbees, the Beans, the Baums, the Holdaways, the Cluffs, the Turners, the Huntingtons, the Peays, the Millers, the Hawses, and many other names that are still familiar to current Provo residents, either because they have them in their own family histories, or because they've dated someone with that last name, or they have paid attention to the business owner's signs as they drive around town.
John S. Higbee was called to be leader of the settlement. His counselors were Issak Higbee and Dimick B. Huntington.
Dimick B. Huntington believed he was called by Joseph Smith to be a liason between the Mormon settlers and the Indians. He learned several Ute dialects during his years in Utah Valley, and had dealings with the Indians during many significant events, including the Mountain Meadows Massacre, which, for a long time, was blamed on the Paitues who lived in the valley near Provo and other Mormon Settlements. He looks like he's really suspicious of whomever took his picture. Maybe it was somebody he didn't like. At any rate, various accounts I've read paint him as a man who tried hard to do what was right. He wasn't perfect of course, but none of us are... and we have to remember that Indian-Settler relations were messy, in just about every account where settlers and native tribes crossed paths. I'll do more posts about that, as well.
Fort Utah, the first fort, was built close to the riverbottoms. The settlers unwittingly chose a site very important to the tribes of the area--important for fishing, and as a gathering place. It was a damp, marshy area not all that healthy to the settlers either. After some more hostilities, with losses that occured on both sides, Brigham Young asked the settlement to move further north and east.
Provo's North Park is the site of the second fort. There are several cabins and other buildings from the second settelement there today. The exibit is maintained by the Sons of Utah Pioneers. The park used to be named "Soweitte," after chief Soweitte, who intervened on the settlers' behalf when another chief, Walkera, declared "war" on the settlers. In addition, a replica of the first fort has been created in about the same spot where the fort once stood. If you would like to visit, it is along Geneva Road in South Provo, just past the KAO campgrounds, where Geneva Road crosses the Provo River.
The fort was set up with a set of walls or barricades made of logs. In the center of the fort was a hump of land, on which a platform was built, where the cannon was placed. The school-house was also in the center of the fort. George Washington Bean was the first schoolmaster (more on him below.) Cabins lined the inside of the walls, or made up parts of the walls, and eventually there were cabins outside of the (2nd) fort.
That first year, 1849, was a miserable one for the settlers. There was a great deal of flooding, which washed away planted crops, and so the settlers didn't grow much. They had to live on gleaned foods such as dandelions and sego roots, dug by the river. The river was full of fish, and the settlers took advantage of that, but that meant that the Indians had less of their main food source as well, and this increased tensions.
Eight people died and were buried in that first fort, later called "fort field." Their bodies were later moved to the current Provo Cemetery.
Among them were George and Matilda Haws, father and daughter. Matilda was 22 when she died, unmarried, six months after arriving in the valley. Later, her sister married Shedrick Holdaway, and Shedrick had Matilda sealed to him as well by proxy. This was a common practice at the time.
There was no picture of Matilda Haws. Above are Shedrick (Shadrack) holdaway as young man and his wife, Lucinda, who is older in her picture. She also looks suspicious. But the accounts I've read say she was an intelligent, friendly woman. She raised a lot of children, some not her own biologically. And she loved poetry. She had fiery red hair when she was younger. Shedrick is said to have had very nice horses. He was a hard worker, too; his name is on a lot of the early accounts of public works--surveying, leadership positions, etc. He apparently had a "van dyke" style beard a lot of his life (that's like the beard the devil is drawn with) and also a devilish sense of humor.
Harriet Turner was 14 years old when she died. Her mother and father (pictured above), as well as the rest of her siblings, survived that first year. Most of them lived into old age.
Joseph Higbee, only living son of Issak Higbee (1st counselor of the settlement) died during a scuffle with the Indians. He was hiding with some other men from the fort, behind some logs. He raised his head, looking quietly around, and was shot in the neck. The Indian responsible for his death was later tried by the settlers and executed by disembowelment (wow.) Apparently this was a common practice at the time as well--the settlers would execute by shooting the offender in the stomach, remove the insides, and fill it with stones, then sink the body in the river so that they could delay the inevitable conflict that followed. Later on, I'll tell some of those stories... in particular, the story of "Old Bishop" which has become a local ghost story, and promulgated a lot of the hostilities those first few years.
William Dayton and George Washington Bean were doing a demonstration of the 5 lb cannon that rested on a mound in the middle of the fort. They shot it once, and then neglected to clean the barrel. Some of the powder on the barrel ignited and the cannon exploded, instantly killing Dayton and practically tearing off George W. Bean's arm (which had to be amputated just below the elbow), as well as delivering over 200 splinters all over his body.
George Bean's recovery was painful and took several months, during which his mother and several Indians nursed him to health. He received a priesthood blessing which cured him of the blindness he suffered for a long while after the accident. While nursing him, the Indians taught George their language. George became a good friend to some of the Indians in the area, and after his recovery, was often sent on missions to talk to and trade with the tribes. Here is George Bean as a younger man.
And, just an interesting note to end on: An anecdote retold by the son of Betsy Cluff, one of the first settlers in the fort.
According to Betsy's biography, she sat on the wagon tongue following supper that night and surveyed their situation. After taking a good look at the shabby condition of the fort and the wild-looking country surrounding it, she spoke in a disheartened voice, "So, this is Provo, where we have come to make our future home. The outlook is dreary; the future is not very bright."
Her young son Benjamin overheard her dejected soliloquy and replied, "Mother, remember the old adage, 'The darkest hour is just before the dawn of day.' "
This response somewhat cheered the pioneer mother, and she responded in a slightly more positive tone, "Yes, my son, we will hope for the best and put our trust in the Lord who has never failed us."
That is lifted directly from here. It's an interesting story... I'll definitely be talking more about the Cluffs, later, as they are one of the most interesting (to me) families to settle in Utah Valley.
Sep 2, 2011
history blurbs
I have a lot of interesting utah valley history tidbits floating around in my mind. There are some cool sites out there, some fascinating journal entries saved and put online by families, some amazing pictures.
Cedar Fort marketing people have given me the go ahead to er... go ahead, and post some "utah history blurbs" once in a while, to (in part) build anticipation for my book when it comes out, and also to sort of flesh out the world my characters are set in, and also give those who are as fascinated by this as I am, a place to go to read more. So I'm going to be doing a blog post here and there with utah history including some of the fascinating stuff I've found, and linking to some of the websites/sources I used to research Provo, Utah, in the years of its earliest settlement.
Anyway, I hope you all enjoy reading this stuff, and looking at all of these amazing pictures, maps, and family history sites, as I have over these past couple of years! Hurrah for the pioneers!
Cedar Fort marketing people have given me the go ahead to er... go ahead, and post some "utah history blurbs" once in a while, to (in part) build anticipation for my book when it comes out, and also to sort of flesh out the world my characters are set in, and also give those who are as fascinated by this as I am, a place to go to read more. So I'm going to be doing a blog post here and there with utah history including some of the fascinating stuff I've found, and linking to some of the websites/sources I used to research Provo, Utah, in the years of its earliest settlement.
Anyway, I hope you all enjoy reading this stuff, and looking at all of these amazing pictures, maps, and family history sites, as I have over these past couple of years! Hurrah for the pioneers!
Aug 28, 2011
mean mom list
I got a little fed up a while ago when I wrote on my blog about my kids refusing to eat the dinner I made them. One of my commenters essentially suggested I back off and not make them eat veggies.
Well, here's the thing,
I make my kids eat veggies.
I also do lots of other things. Mean things. Things that my kids don't like or appreciate... but that, someday, will (I hope) turn them into people of character. I look at the current generation of teens and adolescents (forgive me for generalizing and doing what everybody else does and judging and dumping on you guys) and I see too much entitlement. Too much worry about society's opinion, not enough worry about the respect of parents. I see kids being snarky to their family and even viscious to their siblings. I see families that hate to be together. It makes me really sad.
I think kids need to eat their veggies. I think parents should make them. I mean, you can't force veggies down a kid's throat. But you sure can reserve the right to not serve them anything else until said veggies are finished. And yes, I have had a child go for a day, even a day and a half, refusing to eat veggies and voluntarily going hungry. But, let's face it...
a kid gets hungry enough, and they eat their veggies. And when they finally fork their way through that limp, sodden mess of salad that, 24 hours before, was crisp and at least somewhat-more-appetizing, they learn to eat them during mealtimes.
Sound harsh?
Well, wait 'till I get going. Here's my "mean mom" list:
1) I make my kids eat dinner at the dinner table. I make myself and my husband eat dinner with them. And I make them learn table manners. Sure, there are jokes and eye-rolling... but they get it. And the family time is invaluable. I plan to continue to enforce the everybody-at-the-table-for-dinner for as long as my children remain under my roof.
2) I make my kids put things away. When they are done, they put it away. Or else they get an evil eye and a brief chewing out from me (and if you know me, you know that my evil glares can be frightening!)
3) I make my kids be nice to each other. We don't say "stupid," "hate," or "wierd," we don't call each other names, and we don't speak to each other in a disprespectful tone. Teasing is allowed as long as the person being teased is still happy, but when they start to get sad, it stops.
4) Lying, stealing, and hurting on purpose are capital offenses. They put you away for a long time. Depending on age, accountability, and recent repeat offenses, my kids know could be spending several minutes to a couple of hours in their room for purposely engaging in any of these behaviors.
5) if you act like a little kid in my house (disobeying, whining, throwing a tantrum when you don't get what you want) then you take a nap like a little kid, in my house. Naptime is after lunch. It lasts 1-1.5 hours. Yes, I know you're bored... but if you don't really take a nap, you get to stay in your room longer because little kids need sleep.
6) If you want toys, you have to take care of them. That includes keeping them picked up.
7) My kids have jobs. They're not fun jobs. They have to clean the table and sweep the floor and clear the table and keep their rooms and the toy room clean. Every day. In the case of the table--that happens 2 times per day.
8) No allowance. If my kids want money, there are plenty of extra jobs that I wouldn't mind paying them to do for me. They have to be done well if they want the full payment.
9) If you've asked once, you wait for mom to answer. If you ask twice or more (unless you were thinking that mom didn't hear, and just repeated yourself to make sure you were heard) the answer changes to an automatic "no."
10) If my kids want to play with friends/neighbors, they have to have proper manners around them. No yelling, no using words our family doesn't use, and no peeking in anybody's windows or other impolite behavior... it doesn't matter if your friends are doing it or not.
11) When mom talks, kids listen.
12) If kids use an "outside voice" in the house, kids get to go outside for a while.
13) Mom should only have to ask once. If you've heard her, and she has to ask twice, that's verging on disobedience. Three times, and it's a consequence.
14) No backtalk/arguing. Kids can object once to make their feelings known, and mom will listen and either take said feelings into account or explain why things still need to happen. More argument is disobedience and gets a consequence.
K. This might sound nazi-ish to some. But honestly, I don't think it is. I think it's logical. And it's real life.
I have a friend whose husband is a professor. He teaches a very difficult course. He always brings home stories about students coming to him and demanding a higher grade "because they deserved it" for turning an assignment in, for "making an effort," etc etc etc. They argue. They're disprespectful. They threaten to go to their parents for backup.
Here's the thing... I think that, if we don't teach our kids to live in the real world, we're doing them a real disservice. Obedience and respect are very important concepts for small children to learn and understand. As they grow older, it's not so much about obedience, as it is learning correct principles and learning how to govern themselves. But habits go far in leading children the right direction.
I want polite kids.
I want respectful kids.
I want kind kids.
I want responsible kids.
I want kids who appreciate the efforts and needs of those around them.
I want kids who know how to work.
I want kids who are humble.
I want kids who, when they fail at something, instead of demanding a recount, they look back over their actions and see how they can improve their performance.
I want kids who feel close to each other, and close to me, and close to their father, and who can trust that we are teaching them the things they need to know to survive in the real world, and don't feel a need to retreat into a parent's basement at age thirty and play videogames all day in order to escape from the real world.
And honestly... this might sound harsh. No, it does sound harsh... on paper like that, harshness just exudes from that list I just reeled off. But guess what? The other half is...
love. Love love love your kids, and talk, talk talk to them, and listen, listen listen to them. Treat them like you actually like them.
And then when they have to swallow those bitter moments of frustration, when mom and their wills clash... it'll go down easier. That's what I think, at least. That's what I remember from how I was raised. And I turned out pretty good, I think. All the parenting books in the world can't argue with results.
Well, here's the thing,
I make my kids eat veggies.
I also do lots of other things. Mean things. Things that my kids don't like or appreciate... but that, someday, will (I hope) turn them into people of character. I look at the current generation of teens and adolescents (forgive me for generalizing and doing what everybody else does and judging and dumping on you guys) and I see too much entitlement. Too much worry about society's opinion, not enough worry about the respect of parents. I see kids being snarky to their family and even viscious to their siblings. I see families that hate to be together. It makes me really sad.
I think kids need to eat their veggies. I think parents should make them. I mean, you can't force veggies down a kid's throat. But you sure can reserve the right to not serve them anything else until said veggies are finished. And yes, I have had a child go for a day, even a day and a half, refusing to eat veggies and voluntarily going hungry. But, let's face it...
a kid gets hungry enough, and they eat their veggies. And when they finally fork their way through that limp, sodden mess of salad that, 24 hours before, was crisp and at least somewhat-more-appetizing, they learn to eat them during mealtimes.
Sound harsh?
Well, wait 'till I get going. Here's my "mean mom" list:
1) I make my kids eat dinner at the dinner table. I make myself and my husband eat dinner with them. And I make them learn table manners. Sure, there are jokes and eye-rolling... but they get it. And the family time is invaluable. I plan to continue to enforce the everybody-at-the-table-for-dinner for as long as my children remain under my roof.
2) I make my kids put things away. When they are done, they put it away. Or else they get an evil eye and a brief chewing out from me (and if you know me, you know that my evil glares can be frightening!)
3) I make my kids be nice to each other. We don't say "stupid," "hate," or "wierd," we don't call each other names, and we don't speak to each other in a disprespectful tone. Teasing is allowed as long as the person being teased is still happy, but when they start to get sad, it stops.
4) Lying, stealing, and hurting on purpose are capital offenses. They put you away for a long time. Depending on age, accountability, and recent repeat offenses, my kids know could be spending several minutes to a couple of hours in their room for purposely engaging in any of these behaviors.
5) if you act like a little kid in my house (disobeying, whining, throwing a tantrum when you don't get what you want) then you take a nap like a little kid, in my house. Naptime is after lunch. It lasts 1-1.5 hours. Yes, I know you're bored... but if you don't really take a nap, you get to stay in your room longer because little kids need sleep.
6) If you want toys, you have to take care of them. That includes keeping them picked up.
7) My kids have jobs. They're not fun jobs. They have to clean the table and sweep the floor and clear the table and keep their rooms and the toy room clean. Every day. In the case of the table--that happens 2 times per day.
8) No allowance. If my kids want money, there are plenty of extra jobs that I wouldn't mind paying them to do for me. They have to be done well if they want the full payment.
9) If you've asked once, you wait for mom to answer. If you ask twice or more (unless you were thinking that mom didn't hear, and just repeated yourself to make sure you were heard) the answer changes to an automatic "no."
10) If my kids want to play with friends/neighbors, they have to have proper manners around them. No yelling, no using words our family doesn't use, and no peeking in anybody's windows or other impolite behavior... it doesn't matter if your friends are doing it or not.
11) When mom talks, kids listen.
12) If kids use an "outside voice" in the house, kids get to go outside for a while.
13) Mom should only have to ask once. If you've heard her, and she has to ask twice, that's verging on disobedience. Three times, and it's a consequence.
14) No backtalk/arguing. Kids can object once to make their feelings known, and mom will listen and either take said feelings into account or explain why things still need to happen. More argument is disobedience and gets a consequence.
K. This might sound nazi-ish to some. But honestly, I don't think it is. I think it's logical. And it's real life.
I have a friend whose husband is a professor. He teaches a very difficult course. He always brings home stories about students coming to him and demanding a higher grade "because they deserved it" for turning an assignment in, for "making an effort," etc etc etc. They argue. They're disprespectful. They threaten to go to their parents for backup.
Here's the thing... I think that, if we don't teach our kids to live in the real world, we're doing them a real disservice. Obedience and respect are very important concepts for small children to learn and understand. As they grow older, it's not so much about obedience, as it is learning correct principles and learning how to govern themselves. But habits go far in leading children the right direction.
I want polite kids.
I want respectful kids.
I want kind kids.
I want responsible kids.
I want kids who appreciate the efforts and needs of those around them.
I want kids who know how to work.
I want kids who are humble.
I want kids who, when they fail at something, instead of demanding a recount, they look back over their actions and see how they can improve their performance.
I want kids who feel close to each other, and close to me, and close to their father, and who can trust that we are teaching them the things they need to know to survive in the real world, and don't feel a need to retreat into a parent's basement at age thirty and play videogames all day in order to escape from the real world.
And honestly... this might sound harsh. No, it does sound harsh... on paper like that, harshness just exudes from that list I just reeled off. But guess what? The other half is...
love. Love love love your kids, and talk, talk talk to them, and listen, listen listen to them. Treat them like you actually like them.
And then when they have to swallow those bitter moments of frustration, when mom and their wills clash... it'll go down easier. That's what I think, at least. That's what I remember from how I was raised. And I turned out pretty good, I think. All the parenting books in the world can't argue with results.
Aug 19, 2011
more writing adventures
One thing that I have struggled with is how to approach other writers' writing. I go to critique group, and the point of critique group is to let the other writers know what you enjoyed and also what you feel could be improved in what they have read.
So what do you do when someone at critique group reads something that is objectionable, but not in the writing sense... it's objectionable in the sense that, in real life, if you were reading that book, you'd put it down after the first couple of pages because you are *morally* objecting to the subject matter.
The approach I have taken thus far has been one of "hands off" morals/morality. I only comment on actual writerly mistakes/possible improvements. But it does get akward. I'm heartily glad we don't read one anothers' work in the critique group I currently attend, because even listening turns me beet red on occasion.
The hard thing, as an artist, is to figure out where that "line" really is. It has to be drawn in a different place when you are looking at the works of those who do not share your moral schema. Of course, that doesn't mean you can't do the "normal" missionary work... of being a good example, etc etc. But honestly, I feel there is absolutely no room for preachiness in a writer's critique group.
One of the writers I meet with every wendesday writes Romance novels. And by romance, I mean, ROMANCE, not the mormon girl twilight-hinting-but-not-quite-going-there stuff. Erotica.
Another writer is working on a manuscript that is about a completely amoral demon (who is a very well-written, extremely hilarious character, by the way) and his attempts to "switch sides." IN his story, the roles of God and Satan are, in a way, reversed... well, not reversed. His universe depicts all religions and supernatural beings as sort of human... imperfect in their own ways, ekeing out their own existence and competing for the "worship" of humans. Particularly, the worship/reverence of artists.
It is a great story. In every way.
And in real life, I'd never read it.
But as a critiquer, it completely stuns me. It's pretty amazing.
I feel a bit dissasociative, identity-wise, at times, in my critique group. But in the end, they are also ALL great people. Great, great, great. Funny funny funny. Still my tribe.
What's your thought about artists, and appropriateness, and lines, and morality and how it comes into everything?
So what do you do when someone at critique group reads something that is objectionable, but not in the writing sense... it's objectionable in the sense that, in real life, if you were reading that book, you'd put it down after the first couple of pages because you are *morally* objecting to the subject matter.
The approach I have taken thus far has been one of "hands off" morals/morality. I only comment on actual writerly mistakes/possible improvements. But it does get akward. I'm heartily glad we don't read one anothers' work in the critique group I currently attend, because even listening turns me beet red on occasion.
The hard thing, as an artist, is to figure out where that "line" really is. It has to be drawn in a different place when you are looking at the works of those who do not share your moral schema. Of course, that doesn't mean you can't do the "normal" missionary work... of being a good example, etc etc. But honestly, I feel there is absolutely no room for preachiness in a writer's critique group.
One of the writers I meet with every wendesday writes Romance novels. And by romance, I mean, ROMANCE, not the mormon girl twilight-hinting-but-not-quite-going-there stuff. Erotica.
Another writer is working on a manuscript that is about a completely amoral demon (who is a very well-written, extremely hilarious character, by the way) and his attempts to "switch sides." IN his story, the roles of God and Satan are, in a way, reversed... well, not reversed. His universe depicts all religions and supernatural beings as sort of human... imperfect in their own ways, ekeing out their own existence and competing for the "worship" of humans. Particularly, the worship/reverence of artists.
It is a great story. In every way.
And in real life, I'd never read it.
But as a critiquer, it completely stuns me. It's pretty amazing.
I feel a bit dissasociative, identity-wise, at times, in my critique group. But in the end, they are also ALL great people. Great, great, great. Funny funny funny. Still my tribe.
What's your thought about artists, and appropriateness, and lines, and morality and how it comes into everything?
Aug 11, 2011
To Blog or Not to Blog
Completely cheesy and predictable title, I know.
Listen, blogging friends.
I feel horrible for neglecting this blog that I have so faithfully kept updated for years. Five years... at least a post a month, but usually more like several per week.
What happened?
Well, when life is stressful, I tend to not want to write about it and talk with other people about it. I get really introverted. Us Nosurfs just went through a He-yuge change. We left friends behind. We left our HOME (yes, provo was our home. I lived there ten years, and Skywalker had been there sixteen by the time we left.) And we went off into the scary blue yonder without a clue as to what would be welcoming us.
Well, we're here now. In our house we bought (and therefore will be staying in for a long time.)
It's a gorgeous house. Startlingly so. I never expected so much... I feel so very overwhelmed with blessings at the moment. NO, I mean it... overwhelmed. Too much. Overflowing. Being poured over and drowned...
I know that this sounds ungrateful. I've been saying a lot of prayers lately to the effect of, "Dear Father, I don't want you to think I'm not grateful for the astonishing blessings you've given me, but I'm feeling rather overwhelmed here..."
When you move to a place and decide on purpose that you'll be staying there for thirty years or so, it can be a little scary. Scratch that... it's terrifying. And while a piece of me aknowledges how much I love this place we've moved to... that it's our dream home in our dream town and still within 20 minutes of Skywalker's dream job, I'm still reeling from all the changes. Still recovering. Still offloading all the stress.
And another problem is that right now, the only internet connection I have is a tethered android phone. IT works, but the blogging I could usually get done in one hour now takes me four. It's made for a lot less internet-browsing, blog-hopping, drive-by-or-more-thoughtful-commenting, or really, reading anything and everything on the internets.
But I am going to force myself to blog once a week. Thursday evenings. HOld me to it... It's Skywalker's night out and generally speaking, I have nothing better to do than to sit for five minutes at a time watching a loading bar creep across my screen :/
Anyway, don't abandon me, blogging friends. Please come visit me again... I'll be good, I promise. And there is likely some exciting stuff on the horizon... for all of us. I can't wait to read about what you're up to, even if I can't always find time to comment with my current internet situation.
--Nosurfgirl
Listen, blogging friends.
I feel horrible for neglecting this blog that I have so faithfully kept updated for years. Five years... at least a post a month, but usually more like several per week.
What happened?
Well, when life is stressful, I tend to not want to write about it and talk with other people about it. I get really introverted. Us Nosurfs just went through a He-yuge change. We left friends behind. We left our HOME (yes, provo was our home. I lived there ten years, and Skywalker had been there sixteen by the time we left.) And we went off into the scary blue yonder without a clue as to what would be welcoming us.
Well, we're here now. In our house we bought (and therefore will be staying in for a long time.)
It's a gorgeous house. Startlingly so. I never expected so much... I feel so very overwhelmed with blessings at the moment. NO, I mean it... overwhelmed. Too much. Overflowing. Being poured over and drowned...
I know that this sounds ungrateful. I've been saying a lot of prayers lately to the effect of, "Dear Father, I don't want you to think I'm not grateful for the astonishing blessings you've given me, but I'm feeling rather overwhelmed here..."
When you move to a place and decide on purpose that you'll be staying there for thirty years or so, it can be a little scary. Scratch that... it's terrifying. And while a piece of me aknowledges how much I love this place we've moved to... that it's our dream home in our dream town and still within 20 minutes of Skywalker's dream job, I'm still reeling from all the changes. Still recovering. Still offloading all the stress.
And another problem is that right now, the only internet connection I have is a tethered android phone. IT works, but the blogging I could usually get done in one hour now takes me four. It's made for a lot less internet-browsing, blog-hopping, drive-by-or-more-thoughtful-commenting, or really, reading anything and everything on the internets.
But I am going to force myself to blog once a week. Thursday evenings. HOld me to it... It's Skywalker's night out and generally speaking, I have nothing better to do than to sit for five minutes at a time watching a loading bar creep across my screen :/
Anyway, don't abandon me, blogging friends. Please come visit me again... I'll be good, I promise. And there is likely some exciting stuff on the horizon... for all of us. I can't wait to read about what you're up to, even if I can't always find time to comment with my current internet situation.
--Nosurfgirl
May 11, 2011
Getting Published (for real, this time)
Remember when I did that post a while back and accidentally falsely made you think I had gotten an offer for one of my books?
Well, apparently my list was right on the money.
Because I just got an offer for one of my books.
Cedar Fort/Bonneville Books has offered me a contract for my pioneer novel.
Which I have accepted.
(eeeeee!!! I'm getting published. Is this real life?)
I'm having a hard time internalizing this, honestly. A very hard time. I have moments of calm and then a sudden surge of adrenaline twists my innards and makes the blond hairs stand up on my arms.
I'm getting published! After five years of writing-revising-workshopping-submitting-rewriting-critiquegroupgoing-resubmitting, I can finally call myself an novelist.
Sarah Dunster--novelist.
Thanks for listening to me be crazy. I'll keep y'all informed about things as they develop.
Well, apparently my list was right on the money.
Because I just got an offer for one of my books.
Cedar Fort/Bonneville Books has offered me a contract for my pioneer novel.
Which I have accepted.
(eeeeee!!! I'm getting published. Is this real life?)
I'm having a hard time internalizing this, honestly. A very hard time. I have moments of calm and then a sudden surge of adrenaline twists my innards and makes the blond hairs stand up on my arms.
I'm getting published! After five years of writing-revising-workshopping-submitting-rewriting-critiquegroupgoing-resubmitting, I can finally call myself an novelist.
Sarah Dunster--novelist.
Thanks for listening to me be crazy. I'll keep y'all informed about things as they develop.
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