The End!

Over the weekend, I drove 700 miles to find my conclusion.

I didn't know what it was, but I knew who had it: my brother-in-law Ryan, a native- New-Yorker-turned-student-teacher who's 36 as of last week.

So I left the kids behind and headed to Buca di Beppo in Sacramento. My sister Erika, my dad, and Ryan all chatted over the Saltimbocca, but I waited a long time for my turn. Because I had a question. When it was my turn, I read the one-sentence summary of my work-in-progress, and I asked how the whole book ends.

Erika and my dad came up with some good stuff, but my eyes were on Ryan. When he sat there, quiet for a full minute, rubbing his chin with his thumb, I knew he was onto something.

And then he laid it all out.

I cried.

I mean, seriously. I seriously cried, and the Bucca staff all came over with cake, clapping and singing "Happy Birthday" to Ryan, and I was bawling, and he sent them away.

I can't tell you the big reason why I was crying yet. But I can tell you the little reason, which is that this was the end! After one year and three different endings, this was it! It sang!

In fact, when I threw the kids and suitcases and Game Boys and iPods back into the car and pretty much flew back to Oregon, I realized that this was what I'd been writing all along.

For two straight days, then, I wrote without stopping. I didn't eat, or sleep, or take phone calls.

And last night, I cried and cried again, as I scribbled out the last three chapters.

Tonight, I brought it to my fabulous writing group. "It's okay if you hate it," I said after reading it aloud. "Because this is it for me. This is the end."

And the end passed. I think I can say it even got some big thumbs-up!

Now, why Ryan?

Why not all my author-friends or friend-friends or family I emailed, begging for help?

Because Ryan has one thing I really lack. Clarity. He can see things clearer more than anyone I know (besides my great man, who gives excellent advice on day-to-day living, not so much literary insight.)

Ryan has the ability of stripping off layers and layers, revealing the essence. Exactly what Drain needed.

So, Ryan, you incredible, smart, authentic guy, next time, the Saltimbocca's on me. That, and the crazy tiramisu.

Have You Ever

had three hours of work just vanish into thin air?

Drain, Watergate, & Plantar Fasciitis

"What was the Vietnam War about?" Daney, 11, asked as we hit the California border, fourteen miles from home.

Already, I was thinking about my Work-In-Progress, Drain.

"Did we win that war?" Rees, 8, asked.

"Most people would probably say we didn't," I told them. "I'm thinking about my book, though."

"Why didn't we win it?" Dominic, 12, pressed. "Didn't we have better weapons?"

And so my W-I-P was shoved aside so I could talk to the kids about the war, which then turned into a discussion about the Peace Movement, which somehow turned to Watergate.

"So Nixon got in trouble because he lied?" Daney said. "But all the presidents lie now. So he wouldn't get in trouble now, right?"

After 20 miles, I told the kids that if they wanted to know any more about Nixon, they could ask their Poppa when we got to his house.

There were a few quiet miles, two and a half maybe. I was just starting to get back into thinking about Drain. Until Daney asked why the achilles tendon is such a tender part of the human body.

"Achilles. The god," I answered.

Of course that wasn't enough. It just opened this huge discussion on Greek folklore and whether one of the gods was responsible for the plantar fasciitis I had suffered from three years ago, and what is plantar fasciitis, anyway, and why exactly did it hurt.

We were in Redding by then.

The kids wanted In & Out. So until Anderson, they were busy chewing their double-doubles-plus-pickles-minus-onion. Which bought me some thinking time.

"So can I tell you guys this new ending I might try in Drain?" I asked them.

"We're tired of talking," they all said, turning on their iPods and Game Boys.

Out. Of. Here.

I'm running away from the Chicken Pox. With my kids, who have the Chicken Pox.

But if we can't change their virus, we can change the house we're stuck in all day.

We're packing up and heading to my dad's, near Sacramento.

I love my Big Family. They make me laugh. And I get to be a daughter, a sister, an aunt, along with being a wife and mom.

My dad will show me things he's bought off E-bay and clips from "Little Rascals." Mackie will tell me where he's planning on going to college. Erika and I will share a good cry. And Amy will make us pancakes at her house before we head back.

So, bye Blog!

I'll check in from California!

Winning Week in the House of Pain

I LOVE this week! There's only been one day in it so far, and I've already won two things.

First, Jennifer Laughran with the Andrea Brown agency chose my entry as one of the winners in Authoress/Miss Snark's critique contest. You can read the first 250 words of Drain here.

You'll notice two typos: no space between the first paragraphs, and a run-on sentence. I'm mortified! And yet, despite some technical problems, I won a ten-page manuscript and query critique.

It was an honor to be part of the contest. Look at all the wise comments Miss Laughran left on each entry! Incredible!

And now, for my second win: a signed copy of Holly Cupala's Tell Me a Secret. Holly is A.Dorable. She was a speaker at the SCBWI WW Conference over a week ago, and I signed up at her table to win a copy of her mystery. Here's a picture of Holly and me. I know, she's a twig! The cutest little stick in the world! And I can't wait to get my eyes on TMAS.

Not to be smuggy or anything, but our home here in Ashland could use a little lift. My boys are suffering from chicken pox (yes, they were vaccinated), and my man had a root canal today.

Isn't it funny how things go?

Chirping Up The Wrong Tree

"There's this certain rain forest bird," Dominic (12) told me the other night about the National Geographic film, Earth. "And the male, he spends a long time cleaning his room. He, like, scrapes all the branches with leaves, and kind of sweeps the floor. Then he stands in the middle of his clean room and sings for the female to come in. Well, she comes, and she stands on a branch outside, and the male does this crazy dance for her. He moves his head back and forth and makes his feathers all big, and he struts around and around like that."

Dominic was laughing while he was telling it, so I knew it had to be pretty funny.

"And the male just keeps dancing, and the female pretty much ignores him. Until after a while, she just flies off. Like he wasn't impressed at all. Can you believe that?"

That was when I started laughing. "You know?" I told him. "I kind of can."


(The picture is the real deal: a male Superb Bird of Paradise from Papua New Guinea.)

HOW Good Is My Man?

SO good that he'll come running from the other room when I break from revising to yell, "Babe! The computer's dying!" to get the cord that's right beside me and plug it in.