The prompt over at Sunday Scribblings today is dare. My first instinct was to write a spontaneous short fiction vignette—that is what prompts are all about, right? But, while I consider writing fiction a useful practice to improve my skills as well as a rewarding creative endeavor in its own right, my real passion is nonfiction. So, today I’ll share the true stories oftwo people who dared.
First up: Florence Nightingale. We all know her as the “lady with the lamp,” the heroic nurse who tended British soldiers during the Crimean War. But her story is so much more interesting than that. Even as a child, she nursed her dolls, pets, and even the local poor. As a young woman from a wealthy family, she did not have to work. She was attractive, and had many marriage proposals, one from a man she truly loved. Yet she turned them all down to do the work she felt compelled to do. In Victorian England, nurses were considered to be among the lowest levels of society: ignorant, dirty, and often drunk. Florence dedicated her life to changing this perception, not only caring for her patients with tender dedication, but also by lobbying for and making system-wide improvements in hygiene, administration and record-keeping, statistical analysis, reporting, and hospital construction. She dared to defy the expectations of everyone around her, and initiated a new order in health care.
Second: Emmanuel Ofosu Yeboah. He was born in 1977 in Ghana, West Africa, with only one leg. At the time, disability was considered to be a curse. His father left, and friends urged his mother to kill him. She did not, and instead raised him the same as able-bodied children, doing chores and going to school. As a young man, he was disturbed by how many disabled people were forced to beg to survive. He decided to show his country that people with disabilities could do useful things. In 2001, he dared to pedal a bicycle almost 400 miles across Ghana, with one leg. He drew the attention of the people, the media, and the government officials. In 2006, Ghana’s Parliament finally passed the Persons with Disability bill, which stated that people with physical disabilities are entitled to all of the same rights as the rest of the country’s citizens. “I want to spread a message to change perceptions,” he said, “and the only way to do that is to lead by example.”
These are two of the true stories that give me the courage I need to continue to dare to make my own mark on the world by writing about and sharing them with others. How about you—will you dare to make a difference in the world? Come on—I dare you!
In the interests of pushing myself out of my comfort zone, I recently finished a class in magical realism. It was drastically different from anything I’ve done (or even read, really) before, and the results were, well, interesting. The final assignment was this: “For this assignment, take the notion of a garden (well tended or neglected, your choice) and play with its realities. Find the most mundane aspects of it and elevate them to magical heights. Take the miracle of a seed and turn it into something ordinary and bland. Juxtapose ideas to rebel against expectation. A garden, after all, is not what you see above the surface, but what builds it from beneath.” And here’s what I came up with:
Invasive Species
She doesn’t even know I’m here, in her beautiful garden. But I’ve been hiding in plain sight for years. At first, she could not have noticed, no matter how hard she tried, how carefully she tended her plants and flowers, turning the soil and pulling weeds. I once was but a seed, deep under the ground, waiting.
Finally, the time was right. I split my shell silently, sending my tendrils out into the garden, urging them to take root wherever they would. I knew she would not see me then, either. She loved her garden, but she cared for it sporadically at best. Once a year she would give it a good look, fixing the most obvious problems, and making a note to watch the rest. But the rest of the time, she took its bounty completely for granted, playing with her young daughter on the patio or rocking with her husband on the swing. By the time she noticed me, I was sure, it would be too late. The garden would be mine.
My tendrils continued to spread, silent thieves in the night. Some found fallow soil, withered, and died. But others took root in her fertile ground. I could feel them winding their way through the flowers, stealing their nourishment, choking them out. It fed me, and I grew.
Eventually, feeling among the flowers, she noticed me—a small lump that did not belong there, had not been there last time she looked. Had it? I could see the recognition on her face, the brief wave of panic. I was afraid too, it was too soon, too soon. My roots were not deep enough yet. They could still be pulled if one knew how.
Denial. Best friend to all that is evil. She had looked me in the eye, and decided to ignore what she knew to be true. “I am too young, too busy, to have to deal with this,” she told herself, and she pushed my existence to the back of her mind. She was not yet brave enough to face me.
“Grow, grow!” I urged the tendrils, just beginning to bloom into full-grown plants in their own right. “The garden is almost ours.”
Any idea what I’m talking about? Think it needs an ending, or is it better left right here?
The big topic in the writing world this time of year is NaNoWriMo, National Novel Writing Month, in which aspiring writers are encouraged to churn out 50,000 words of rough draft in 30 days. It’s easy to get caught up in the hype, but after weeks of consideration and days of agonizing, I’ve finally decided NOT to do it this year. I’m extremely tempted to push myself to attempt something I’ve never done before (finish a novel)—I am very competitive and I do love a good challenge, after all. Plus, I know I’d learn a lot about myself and my writing in the process, which would be both exciting and useful. And, you never know, at the end of it all I just might have something worth pursuing further.
So, what’s holding me back? Well, besides a nice helping of typical writerly fears (which is just another reason TO do it, of course), there’s a nagging little bit of actual self-knowledge that can’t be ignored. It feels so inappropriate that I’m embarrassed to admit it, especially here, in such a public forum. But, I suppose it’s time to come clean and be honest with you all: I’ve never had a burning desire to write a purely fictional novel.
I am most drawn to two particular kinds of literary magic. One is helping a child learn to read by providing something interesting enough for them to work through at a level that is accessible yet just challenging enough to increase their skill (beginning readers: fiction and nonfiction). The other is helping a child understand the world around them through books that are meant to be shared with a parent or teacher, books that will open up a dialog between young children whose values aren’t yet defined and the adults helping to shape those values (board and picture books: fiction and nonfiction).
I love reading all kinds of fiction, and I am keenly aware that a well-written novel can expand a reader’s worldview in ways that shorter works often cannot. Good fiction can illuminate truth with a spotlight effect that can be difficult to achieve in nonfiction. I admire novel writers immensely and feel blessed to call many of them friends. Perhaps someday I’ll even decide to try to join their ranks. For now, though, the audiences I most wish to connect with just aren’t ready for novels. I’ll have to follow my own kind of magic.
Kimberly Baker, superfriend and member of the dynamic trio, has challenged me to a war of words. She knows I need a swift kick in the *** to get a first draft down (especially of a fiction novel–gasp!), but she may not know just how competitive I can be. Even if I lose, though, I win, since it’s just the incentive I need to make some good progress before our amazing fall Weekend on the Water retreat in November.
As part of the deal, we’re offering ourselves up for public humiliation… um, I mean, accountability. If you want to cheer us on (or scoff at me for my pathetic attempts), you can follow our progress here.
Does your bathroom sing to you? Mine does! Well, it does now anyway. But first, here are the ugly “before” pictures (definitely no singing here, just a bad case of the blahs!):
Before-left
Before-right
Then, there are the super-cool “during” pictures (“Hi ho, hi ho, it’s off to work we go!”):
During-left
During-right
And finally, the amazing “after” pictures (“TADA!”):
After-left
After-right
It’s hard to capture all of its glory on film, and I’m jumping the gun a little because it’s not totally done or decorated, but I think you can see the major improvements: Color! Contrast! Light! A medicine cabinet with DOORS! And, best of all, you no longer have to stand IN the toilet to close the door behind you!
Thanks, City Builders!
Thanks to Jim and The Hero Factory, I have created my very own alter-ego superhero. Behold… Professor Reinforced Chrome:
Aw, come on, you know you’re impressed. Aren’t you?
A person I feel very fortunate to call my friend, the successful and talented Kevan Atteberry, recently wrote an article in the Chinook (the quarterly newsletter from the Western Washington region of the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators) entitled, “On Being a Fraud.” I wonder if he’s read about the imposter syndrome, because he described it quite eloquently.
I have to commend Kevan for outing himself and for sharing feelings that we can all relate to, even though many of us might not care to admit it. I totally get the questions of talent and self-worth, the irrational second-guessing of skills and talents, the yearning to produce meaningful results that we can truly feel proud of. I certainly have my share of those emotions, too.
But writing, indeed doing anything creative, also feels, to me, like the great equalizer. More years ago than I’d care to admit, I was riding the wave of a pretty successful career in software engineering. At its peak, I was the technical liaison between Intel’s graphics chip division and Microsoft’s Windows. Not bad for a small-town girl from cow-town Wisconsin! But talk about feeling like a fraud. I felt like I was supposed to handle all the technical details and all the politics—all while making it look totally effortless. It wasn’t effortless, of course, but it was a heck of a lot easier than writing, and I suspect I was better at it, too.
Why, oh why, then, do I write? I write precisely because it’s so darn hard. Yes, I like a challenge, and I’m stubborn, and I want to continue to improve and find ways to make it easier. But I also love knowing that it’s hard for everybody. What joy, what freedom–it’s not just me! How can I be a fraud if we’re all struggling in this together? Even multi-published, award-winning authors (and artists) say every time they sit down to create it’s the same feeling of dread. No one prances around pretending it’s easy (if they do, we all KNOW they’re robots!). There is a huge community of like-suffering souls out there. And of course, self-publishing notwithstanding, one hopes there are some very talented and worthy gatekeepers barring the path to publication until our efforts are ready for primetime (now THEY must feel some pressure, don’t you think?).
I think that the beauty of writing, or attempting to master any other creative endeavor, is that it is so clearly a life-long apprenticeship. Even the masters feel there is still much more to learn. We all strive to enhance our skills and perfect our craft. We are all on a hero’s journey that will not end until the very last breath. We have all been forced (I hope) to switch from a fixed mindset (talent) to the growth mindset (practice). Now we just have to work at it, individually, yet all together.
Many thanks to all my creative friends who are walking this road with me, and to the ones who slap me upside the head and tell me to “knock it off” whenever I feel like giving up!
I have lived in many different places, had more than one career, and done a lot of different things. So, in case you’ve ever wondered…
I cannot speak Swedish, and this is not me. Nope, neither is this, although it’s fun to see my name on Amazon.
I do not write paranormal romance novels, although it sounds like fun and maybe someday I will.
I have never been, nor ever will be, a member of the Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling (G.L.O.W.), although I was a cheerleader (small ‘c’) and am a member of the Gorgeous Ladies of Publishing (G.L.O.P.).
I would love to be a zookeeper, but I’m not.
I enjoy playing with my camera, but I’m not a professional photographer.
Not an executive search professional, or a finance and business affairs executive, or a science teacher.
This is DEFINITELY not me.
Perhaps a pseudonym is in order? Any ideas?
Does anything interesting come up if you Google your name?
Wow, I’ve been tagged! I don’t normally do this kind of thing, but I’d do just about anything for Jolie, so here goes:
1. What are your nicknames?
One of my best friends called me Spoory Laur (since my maiden name was Laurie Spoor). I guess I’m not really a nickname kind of gal, though.
2. What was the first movie you bought in VHS or DVD?
Dirty Dancing. I still have it!
3. What is your favorite scent?
Pumpkin pie.
4. What one place have you visited that you can’t forget and want to go back to?Whistler, B.C., my favorite (borrowed) “cabin” in the mountains. Thanks, dear friends, for all the wonderful mountain getaway trips!
5. Do you trust easily?
Yes, probably too easily.
6. Do you generally think before you act, or act before you think?
I think before I act, way too much. I just finished reading Chris Eboch’s Well of Sacrifice, and I think I need to take a lesson from Eveningstar: sometimes you need to act before you think, or the opportunity is lost.
7. Is there anything that has made you unhappy these days?
Politics, negative ad campaigns, lies and manipulations of the truth, the deep divisions and disagreements in our society and around the world.
8. Do you have a good body image?
Good? No. Sufficient? Yes.
9. What is your favorite fruit?
Hmmm… tough call. Peaches or strawberries? (You decide; I hate making decisions.)
10. What websites do you visit daily?
My Google calendar, Google reader, Facebook (in that order).
11. What have you been seriously addicted to lately?
Coffee, the all-important productivity enhancer. Facebook, the fun but insidious productivity killer.
12. What kind of person do you think the person who tagged you is?
Determined, modest, generous, glamorous, wonderful mother.
13. What’s the last song that got stuck in your head?
The theme song from I Dream of Jeannie (no, I have no idea why it’s in there).
14. What’s your favorite item of clothing?
Pajamas, the fuzzier the better.
15. Do you think Rice Krispies are yummy?
Yes, with or without butter and marshmallows. Snap, crackle, pop!
16. What would you do if you saw $100 lying on the ground?
Just lying there, with no one around and no idea who it belongs to? Well, in that case, I’d pick it up, silly!
17. What items could you not go without during the day?
Coffee. Hugs and “I love you”s from my family. (Okay, family comes first, but they don’t come anywhere near me until after I’ve had my coffee.)
18. What should you be doing right now?
Cleaning the car out for the drive down to the Second Annual Kidlit Blogging Conference!
Now, to tag eight more who haven’t yet been tagged. I’m going to tag a few Facebook friends since they don’t have active blogs that I know of, but hopefully they can post their answers on their wall or profile or something. 
I am a children's book author who specializes in nonfiction about social issues, math, and science. I'm an advocate for youth empowerment and a sucker for underdogs.
I am represented by Ammi-Joan Paquette at Erin Murphy Literary Agency (definitely NOT underdogs).
