On deadline for Chicken Soup for the Soul!

I'm on deadline for another short story for Chicken Soup for the Soul. The book in progress is called My Resolution. The piece is due Monday morning. The awesome thing about this job: I was invited to submit. How cool is that?

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Attention Harry Potter fans. If you're tired of watching your retirement savings tank and you need an escape from the Muggle world, surf on over to this live journal where characters from the Harry Potter universe post on a daily basis.

Best Laid Plans of Writer Moms--Or Why My Characters Had to Wait Another Day

Living the life of a writer mom is never dull, and often crazed. Why? Our kids inform our lives, providing us with reams of writing ideas. Yet, finding the uninterrupted time to breath life into those stories is damned near impossible some days.

Take yesterday, for example. E had an appointment with a new doctor. The appointment was necessary because we've been limping along without a formal neurologist for quite some time.

To be honest, we probably would have limped along even longer if E's opthomalogist hadn't noticed something odd about E's behavior during a routine visit not too long ago.

"Mom, how long has E been doing that?" Dr. D asked after chatting with E about how sophomore year was going.

"Doing what?" I asked, unable to see what she was driving at.

"Stopping in the middle of a conversation like that?"

To me, the behavior was part of E's lexicon. Ever since the aneurysm rupture, she's routinely stopped in the middle of stories and sentences to find a word or thought or to start over again. Of late, the pauses had become more prolonged, but I chalked them up to E's most recent illness, and the fact that she was still catching up on her sleep.

The doctor suggested that maybe those pauses were something more serious. Seizures.

After getting reassurances that the suspected type of seizures didn't require emergency care, I wasted no time finding a neurologist and making an appointment for the next available time.

As long as the physician didn't order any tests immediately following E's appointment, my plan afterward was to return E to school and zip back home in time to sit butt in chair for a good three hours of writing and work time before meeting the bus.

The universe had other plans.

E's appointment was at 9 with a promised 8:45 arrival to allow enough time fill out all the necessary paperwork. The ride was 40 minutes on a good day. I knew ahead of time that the tollway was under construction, so I took a short cut. Unfortunately, the short cut took twice as long.

An hour and a half after leaving the house, we pulled up to the hospital. It was under construction, and signage was so confusing that I swear--and this is no lie--that at one intersection, the arrows to the entrance we were looking for pointed in opposite directions.

This wouldn't have been an issue if we weren't running so late. By the time we pulled up to the Women's and Children's Pavilion entrance, we had less than five minutes to unload the service dog and our gear, and find the clinic so we'd be on time for the actual appointment.

Locking my keys in the car in my rush to unload E and Jewel was the piece de resistance. I stared at the keys with disbelief.

The doctor's office policy clearly states that anyone later than 15 minutes must reschedule his or her appointment. I've wasted enough time waiting for doctors that I truly appreciate a policy like this one. Unfortunately, here I was, needing to hear if my fears about my daughter were true. And I was about to be turned away and forced to wait another six weeks for a new patient appointment to open up.

The valet took pity on me. Rather than making me wait for hospital security to arrive and attempt to unlock the car, he let me leave it in the unloading zone, and promised to call me on my cell if they ran into problems freeing my keys.

Hospital security worked its magic and moved the car without disrupting our appointment. The physician, like the majority of Children's Hospital specialists we've worked with, was knowledgable, thorough, and willing to spend the time needed to educate me, and calm me down. Yes, he confirmed Dr. D's fear, and mine. E's behavior is consistent with seizures. Further testing must be done before a definite diagnosis can be made, and treatment can be as simple as tweaking her existing medication.

Long story short, by the time we got home yesterday, I had little time or energy left for writing. But I don't consider the day a bust.

Thanks to our journey there and back again, my muse has plenty of fodder to work with for future stories, and I came away with a plan for E, one we hope will provide workable answers and a path forward in the near future.

It's Away!

Woohoo! I did it. I finished my short story for Cup of Comfort on time. Pressed send at 10:53 p.m. yesterday. Now it's the waiting game.

Strange Candy, Teen Writers, and Deadlines, Oh My

Popping in with a brief update on how I've been spending my time since ILA. After channeling most all my creative energies into the presentation with J, I've been recuperating, shoveling out my office, and:

1. Flying high since learning that my short story is a finalist for Power Moms, a new Chicken Soup for the Soul book scheduled for release in March 2009.

2. Planning for and co-leading last Friday's Teen Writers' Workshop. Old and new faces joined us to discuss the ins and outs of getting published. The group especially enjoyed the cover letter exercise in which we discussed what not to do when presenting your work. Then we pretended we'd written Twilight and needed to "sell" the story idea to an editor.

3. Playing nursemaid to E who began hacking and coughing over the weekend and is now home sick and miserable with a nasty sinus infection.

4. Escaping into a variety of books. Two of the most recent: Laurell K. Hamilton's provocative short story collection Strange Candy, and, because I've needed an extra boost of late, Writer Mama by Christina Katz.

5. Finalizing another short story in hopes of sending it off by the end of today for consideration for Cup of Comfort, an inspirational series similar in tone and presentation to Chicken Soup for the Soul. The book I'm writing for will be marketed to parents of special needs children. Despite operating on minimal sleep thanks to E's latest illness, my muse remains motivated by the thought of finishing the piece on time. On that note, time to return butt in chair.

ILA, First dates, First Cuts, and Good News!

Illinois Library Association report:
J's and my presentation at ILA yesterday about youth and teen writers' workshops went quite well yesterday. It felt a bit like planes, trains and bicycles getting to Navy Pier by 8:15 to meet K. (Jen had to leave her house by 5:30 to get to my house by 6, etc.) We beat the morning rush, and made it to our room at the far end of the Pier with enough time to set up and find coffee before the session started. Nearly 50 turned out to hear our workshop. Two came in to find seats a good 45 minutes before start time. And despite the fact that people at the session next door were learning to entertain younger youth by eating cake, playing games, and singing songs like "Take me out to the ballgame" at the top of their lungs, only a couple people left early and the time flew by. Attendees indulged us as we led them through some of the exercises our teens use to build stories and unblock their creativity. Overall feedback was positive. One down one to go. Next up: Saint Xavier University's Harvest Literacy Conference in mid October. Same topic. Shorter session. Which means we have some editing to do between now and then.


First dates:
Our middle daughter E had her first official date last weekend. Mr. K did it right by asking E to homecoming in a big way. The week before the dance he arrived in biology class with a dozen roses in hand, and popped the question. As you can tell from the picture, the fact that they went as good friends didn't bother E at all. She was in seventh heaven, and claims they've already made plans to go out again. This time to a home football game where she will wear his jersey.

First Cuts:
This little header is last but not least. It refers to the good news I found in my email box this a.m. The short story I submitted at the end of last month to Chicken Soup for the Soul for one of their books in progress, Power Moms, is being considered for publication. Woohoo!

Wearing my Advocacy Hat, and Other Reasons I Haven't Been Writing

The beginning of the school year often signals the need to don my advocacy hat where my two younger daughters are concerned. This year has been no exception.

Earlier this month, E's electric scooter supplier required considerable prodding in order to make good on a promised modification. The rep arrived yesterday to loan us a new seat while he fixes the old one.

There's also the matter of E's physical therapy schedule. Over the summer we discovered E needed therapy big time because her left leg and hip had tightened considerably. We made a call to the high school mid summer to let them know E had started regular therapy with Easter Seals, and that she'd require continued therapy during the school year. As of this week, we're finally moving toward a school therapy plan that coordinates with the one at Easter Seals.

Then there's S. My twelve year old struggles with a condition called childhood apraxia of speech. She understands what someone says just fine, but when she tries to express herself, she stutters, often so profoundly that friends and family feel compelled to finish her thoughts, rather than wait for her to get unstuck.

Unfortunately, this type of apraxia isn't something you grow out of. Over time the hope is that you'll learn strategies to minimize its effects.

This summer, despite daily speech exercises not to lose the progress S made last year, the condition worsened. To give you an idea of what's been happening at our house, tasks most people take for granted--like talking on the phone to friends, or chatting at the dinner table about how our day went--became so difficult for S that she turned to jotting down her conversations on paper rather than saying anything out loud.

The first day of school I sought out the speech therapist, D, begging her for help. "Something's wrong," I said. "S is worse off now than when school ended."

"Have you tried using her software during conversation?"

The software D was referring to is an amazing tool called FluencyCoach. With it and a headset, S is able to read out loud at 90 percent fluency. With few exceptions, we used it daily over the summer for reading. But I'd never imagined the software could be used for anything else.

"You can do that?" I asked.

"Oh, yes," she said, nodding. "A number of kids have success this way. When S comes home today, ask her about how her day went while using the software, and let me know what happens."

"What about the rest? S seriously went down hill this summer. Her friends talk for her these days. And she did a rock dance camp at the end of July, and on the ride home each day it took her 10 minutes to get out one sentence about how her day went. 10 minutes. We can't let her live like this. It's not right. It's not fair. There has to be a way to help her."

D's forehead wrinkled the way it does when she's thinking. "Try the software after school. I'll work on things from this end. Don't worry. We'll figure this out."

That afternoon, I called S over to the computer.

"Hey there, sweetie," I said as she dumped her backpack on the floor. "Come here a sec. I need you to try something."

"Wh-what?" she asked.

"Mrs. S has an idea on how we can help you talk easier. It's a different way to use your software. Here." I held out the headset. "Put these on, and tell me about your day."

I'll never forget the look of surprise on S's face when she spoke her first sentence. She was perfect. No blocks. No stutters. Just slow easy speech. She grinned and dove in, telling me about every last detail of her day, down to what she ate at lunch.

That was the first time I cried that day. The next was later that night when S used the software to talk with P. He sat there speechless as S talked and talked, not stopping long enough for us to get but a word or two in edgewise.

"What's your favorite color? Mine is pink.

"What's your favorite food? Mine is mandu.

"What's your favorite..." And on and on.

It came spilling out, one question after the other, as if S was catching up on years of pent-up conversation. P and I sat and listened. Until we did what we never thought we'd ever be able to do with our youngest daughter. We cut S off because it was way past bedtime.

As you might imagine, butt in chair time has been rare these days as I advocate for the next step: getting this software into S's classrooms so that her teachers and friends can get to know the real S. I was willing to advocate for the school loading software on every classroom computer. But it turns out a portable device exists, one you can wear on your belt. D went to bat for S and won approval for the equipment. The PO went out last week!

On deck: presenting at the Illinois Library Association Annual Conference tomorrow. Somehow, in the midst of all the craziness we writer moms endure on a daily basis, J and I managed to pull together our Powerpoint about our experience leading the Orland Park Public Library's writers' workshop for youth and teens. K, our partner in crime from the Orland Park Public Library, says she thinks the slide show looks great. Fingers and toes crossed that everyone else agrees. We're on tomorrow at 9. Wish us luck.

Current read: Allies of the Night by Darren Shan.