I’m so glad to say goodbye to 2009. The last half of this year really stunk for me and my family. I have no regrets about tossing this year out with the garbage.

I’m really really ready for 2010. I feel like we’re all evolving into our tweens. Remember when you turned 13 and how exciting it was to be a teenager? Even though the year is 2010, we’re at least getting closer to the teens, right?

I’m not too sure where I was going with the above since I’m being summoned to make snacks!  I’ve lost my train of thought!!!

I wish you all a safe, healthy, and prosperous new year!

Kris

Throughout the last few weeks of stumbling through life, I have to be thankful that my agent is still out there, working to get me published. During that first horrible week of December, Christine was able to submit my middle grade fantasy manuscript to a few more editors as well as sending out one of my women’s fiction manuscripts. I couldn’t be happier.

In spite of everything, it’s a comfort to see that the world continues to spin. Yes, yes, I know – someone dying doesn’t constitute that the world should come to an end. But for some people -me included for at least those first two weeks- this is exactly what happens. I must say that I did enjoy the solitude of my house during the day when my husband and children were off doing their thing. When the kids would come home, happy to be out of school, laughing and having fun, I wanted to shout at them, “WHY ARE YOU SO HAPPY?!?!?”

But I didn’t. I watched them bounce back from our loss. At night, during prayers, they would inevitably mention something about Papa. My heart healed itself a bit when they did. I knew that with those conversations, with the photos we’ve printed up and placed around the house, I knew that my father would not be lost or forgotten.

Isn’t that what we all want? To not be forgotten when our time is done here?

Part of me wonders if that’s why I want to be published. I know that indeed a “part of me” will live on in my children and so forth, but that’s not the “real” me. I’ve never been one of those parents (and I hope to not become one) who lives their lost life through their kids. I’m pretty independent and outspoken.

When I write, I pour a bit of myself into the story. I can’t help it. When the main character eats cinnamon buns and drinks coffee, that’s me. When the main character mourns the loss of her childhood, well, that’s me too. They say, “write what you know”, and I’m a student of that thinking.

Of course, not all of my writing is a reflection of me. I haven’t inherited millions and millions of dollars (nor will I ever!) and I’ve never been told that my life started out as a lie, or have I had a child born only to be kidnapped. You get my drift. It’s not ALL about me. Just some of it.

As we creep toward the epicenter of the holiday season, I feel blessed and a bit lonely. I know that this too will pass, but part of me will never get over it.

Thanks for listening to me babble.

Peace,

Kris

My father passed away suddenly on Friday, November 27. We are still in shock.

He will be missed tremondously.

~Kris

It started with a request from our coach: have your son collect coats for the homeless. At first – because of the natural competition involved with hockey – our coach suggested that he would give out prizes to the top three boys who collected the most. But then that idea went by the wayside. He realized that wasn’t the lesson he was trying to teach the team.

My son and I sent out an email. We received responses. His teacher let him put a box in their classroom to collect coats. We created a flyer and sent it home with his classmates. He also distributed a flyer in our neighborhood.

The emails started flowing in; “I’ve got two coats.” “I’ve got a whole bag of coats.”

Some coats were brought to us, others we picked up.

In just over a week and a half, my son was able to collect 105 coats.

105. It was more than we thought we’d get. A whole lot more.

A few were practically brand new. Most were warm winter coats, while others were spring jackets.

After practce last Saturday, the team collected all of the coats and headed down to the Capuchin Soup Kitchen’s Warehouse. The boys unloaded bag after bag after bag. I didn’t get to count all of the bags – it was too chaotic with 17 boys going from car to car.

Once all the bags were inside, we all watched a movie about the history of the Soup Kitchen and how it serves the community today. By the end, all of the moms were sniffling.

The boys then hung up all of the coats. The hangers had to be hung a certain way, and each coat had to be hung on the correct stand – children’s, women’s, and men’s. By the time we were done, coats upon coats surrounded us.

Then it was time to go to the Soup Kitchen for lunch. This made some of the boys scared and nervous. The coach had requested that the boys spread out – maybe 2 of them to a table – what would be learned if they all sat at two or three tables? Giving coats is the easy part; sitting and eating with the partons of the soup kitchen was the hard part for them.

My son didn’t want to find a buddy. He’s well-liked on the team, but he shied away from the boys. He stuck close to me and we decided to sit together without any other teammates. I was sensitive to his feelings, but I explained that he would eat. It would be rude not to eat. We got on line and waited.

The Capuchin Soup Kitchen was smaller than what I expected. It was even smaller than my son’s school cafeteria. It was clean, with round tables, and walls decorated with posters made by some of the children who participate in the art therapy that is offered. The servers were all dressed in blue shirts and white aprons. They were young kids, maybe high schoolers, and I figured that they were doing community service. They smiled at our largely white group wearing our travel hockey coats. I tried not to feel embarrased, but it was hard not to.

To be honest, I was shocked at the amount of food – or lack of – that was given out. My tray consisted of the following:

• 4 small chicken nuggets with two packets of sweet & sour sauce
• maybe 1/3 cup of rice – maybe
• 2 round carrot slices, two pearl onions, and 1 piece of celery, all cooked in some sort of broth
• maybe 1/4 cup of salad
• a decent size of cornbread
• a small milk
• a small blue drink
• 3 small cookies

Okay, that may sound like a lot, but it really wasn’t.I’m not complaining – I know that the soup kitchen has a tight budget, which is only funded by donations and private sponsorships. But it was sad to think that this was all that each person was given. Later, I found out that if a person was still hungry, they could ask for another tray. That made me feel better. Guess it’s the Italian in me that wants everyone around me to be stuffed with food.

I tried to eat as much as I could, but I didn’t finish everything. I felt extremely bad for throwing some of my food away. I did give my milk to a man who was putting items like that in a bag. He was very happy to get my unopened milk.

My son and I sat down at a table that was occupied with a man who was almost done eating. He told us his name, but not much else. He quickly left. Another hockey mom from our team sat down with us, but left a chair between us. Another man sat down, but didn’t speak to us. We tried to engage him in conversation, but he wanted nothing to do with us. Another younger man sat down and when we asked him how he was, he answered, “I am blessed.”

In the video back at the warehouse, we had heard that many of the soup kitchen patrons feel that they are blessed. Now, we were hearing it for ourselves. He spoke a bit, but didn’t tell us his “story.” He did say that he was from Lansing originally, but he didn’t tell us why he was in Detroit. We didn’t ask either. Now, I’m wishing I had asked. When he was finished, he said good-bye to us and wished us a good day. He dumped his tray and then made another stop at our table to tell us again that he hoped we would have a nice day.

I watched him leave and wondered what he would do for the rest of the day. Did he have a place to stay? Did he work odd jobs? Was he alone? So many questions.

A mom from our team told us of how they sat with three siblings; a nineteen, a twelve, and a ten-year-old. I asked where their parents were, but the mom said she didn’t ask. The children were in school in a very bad part of Detroit. This mom was very nice and made them laugh. She had taken a tray, but didn’t eat. She divided her food amongst the three siblings.

Another hockey mom told us that she sat with a grandfather and his thirty-four year-old austic grandson. He told her how his wife had died and that he brings the grandson to the soup kitchen because he doesn’t know what else to do. She said that he just opened up to her and poured out his story.

In the car ride home, I asked my son what he thought about the experience. He told me he didn’t want to talk about it, or even think about it, because it made him feel so bad. He did tell me that he believed the coach, although coach hadn’t said this outright, wanted the boys to learn that hockey is so expensive and that they need to work hard each time they are on the ice because you never know.

I’m not sure that was the coach’s intention – I think it was more that the boys as a team on and off the ice can do good things. But if my son wants to work hard because his parents have the money for him to play hockey, then so be it.

But more so, I know that he will never forget that experience or the people who we ate lunch with one Saturday.

Once I get a photo from the warehouse, I will post it here so you can see how many coats our team collected. BTW, I was saddened and shocked to hear that all the coats we brought that Saturday would be distributed by the following Monday. So sad to think that there are so many who are in need.

To learn more about the Capuchin Soup Kitchen, please see their website.

Peace~Kris

Work has been very busy! But I do see the light at the end of the tunnel – to use a horrible cliche.

Within the last month, I’ve had 4 final sign-offs with authors. That means 4 less books to work on. I’ve not taken on any new authors, so my list right now is around 11 authors. Not bad, since all of them are in varying stages of the publication process.

On my own personal writing, my lovely and brillant agent, Christine Witthohn, pitched my women’s fiction novel, A Life Unraveled, to several editors while she was at the Women’s Fiction Festival in Italy last month. All of them requested a FULL. I say, “Awesome!” We are busy getting that manuscript ready to ship out next week.

I’m hoping to hear back from the three other editors here in the US who have my middle-grade novel. Patience and a thick skin are much needed traits of an author. I’ve got the thick skin, but the patience is something I’m learning.

Hope all is well in your world.

Peace~ Kris

Have you seen this?

I mean, come on. A pole dancing doll? Seriously?

I’m not sure that it’s any better than the bazillions of “guns” out there for boys, but please.

What’s next? The “Dick” doll who shoves dollar bills in the Pole Dancing doll’s panties?

Geez.

Kris

Summer is winding down, and it’s unbelievable that’s it’s almost time for the kids to go back to school. The laws have changed in Michigan; school used to start before Labor Day, but now it must start after Labor Day. I’m not sure why this change happened.

I’ve not heard back from my agent as to if there’s been any response to the partial she submitted a couple of weeks ago. I’m planning on finishing it this week while N is in a hockey training camp in the event that a publisher is indeed interested. That would be awesome.

I’ve been spending some time on Twitter lately. It’s such a strange tool – letting unknown people have access to people who they normally wouldn’t have any access to – meaning “celebrities”. Some of them are really, really weird. Others seem to be just like a regular person. I dont’ mean that they aren’t normal, but you know what I mean.

I’ve found some really cool twitterchats. One that I’ve participated in is the #kidlitchat every Tuesday evening at 9pm EST. It’s a great experience as writers, illustrators, agents, and publishers get together to discuss a topic or two. I’ve put it on my calendar each week so I don’t forget about it.

All this technology really makes writing not as solitary as it can be.

Peace,
Kris

Since I’m taking the leap and really getting into my middle-grade fantasy novel, I’ve been thinking about tweaking my website/blog. It certainly won’t work in its current state if any of the publishers that my agent subbed the ms to are interested. Flowers and the words “women’s fiction” all of over will be a big turn-off!

I’m also thinking about creating a Twitter account for my main character of said MG manuscript. I think it would be great fun. But my question is, do I do it before I have a book contract or after? I should’ve asked this question during the #kidlitchat on Twitter tonight.

Anyone know of a good webdesigner?

Peace,

Kris

Last Thursday through Saturday, my younger son and I attended Cub Scout camp at D bar A camp in Metamora, MI. I had no clue what I was in for. We’d been given a list of items that we should bring, and I thought I did pretty well getting everything together. I forgot the rain gear. Oops. Thank goodness it didn’t start raining until we were getting ready for breakfast on Saturday. The bummer thing was that J lost out on free time Saturday morning because of the rain. We left early, but I certainly didn’t mind.

I had no idea we’d be at a site that was about a mile from where all of the activities were. Nor did I know that we’d be carrying all of our stuff with us. All day. And me, without a backpack, but a huge bag that I thanked the heavens for giving me some insight in bringing. I slung it over my shoulders, alternately from left to right so that I wouldn’t break my back. I finally figured out that I could sling each strap around each shoulder and carry it somewhat like a backpack. With all of my bitching and moaning (done internally, of course), I was surprised that I actually survived.

Now, I’ve been camping before. The husband and I used to do a lot of it pre-kids. But….we weren’t carrying our whole days’ worth of supplies on our backs. Okay, I digress…

J had a blast with bb guns, archery, bouldering, fishing, whittling, horseback riding, learning about reptiles, and playing human fuse ball. I’ll post some pics here so you’ll understand better what human fuse ball is.

Overall, we had a really good time. The campfire with the entire group was a lot of fun. The entire experience really made me wish that my older son could participate in Cub Scouts, but hockey just takes up too much time.

Here he is earning his Whittlin Chit. Don’t ask me  – that’s Scout lingo.

Here he is on Marigold. He quickly informed me that he loves horseback riding. Great. Another expensive sport.

Here is Human Fuse ball. Not the best photo, but you can get the idea. It’s a long, rectangle filled with sand. Each line has three spots that have three pieces of PVC.

The kids hold on to the PVC and try to score on the goalie.

My little left-handed archer.

J bouldering.

I wasn’t familiar with this, just rock climbing. Bouldering is when you go left to right, rather than up and down with rock climbing. See? I learned something.

I’ve made a list of the things to take next year because I’ve been informed that J will be going. No matter what.

I’m thinking that Mr. Yankee can go and share the fun next time.

Peace,

Kris

I can’t believe that August has already arrived. I don’t know where the times goes these days.

I’m really busy with work and writing. All is good in those areas. One of my new authors is the famous, Carol McCloud of “Have You Filled A Bucket Today?” fame. She’s working on a chap book for older kids. I think it will be very popular.

Hockey season has started already. Didn’t we just end? Hopefully the season will go well. Not sure if N will be on the team with the hubby being laid off. He is for now. Come time for the next ice bill, well, that’s another story if nothing changes on the job front.

Why is it that hubby can get a job in Colorado, Connecticut, or Arkansas, but not here? Where is the “change” we were promised?

Still can’t be all that mad at Pres. Obama – COBRA is a much better deal (I’m told) now that he’s in office.

Send prayers and good thoughts that we don’t have to move. That would suck.

On the writing front, my agent loves my middle grade novel and is talking about sending it out to publishers this week. I hoping that happens. Sure would help out!

Peace,
Kris