Surviving the Non-Routine

I can admit it.  I like to think of myself as a wild and crazy gal - the impulsive live-for-the-moment type. The truth is, though, that I am very much a creature of routine and habit. I seem to be happiest and most productive when I'm operating within my regular routine.  No, I did not say "stuck in a rut." If that's what you read between the lines, read it again.

As much as I love the holiday season (it's my favorite time of year), it's a routine buster. Nothing is as it usually is. I work less, kids are home from school, husband is right there - all the time. My 30 minute limit in the kitchen every night becomes hours of holiday cooking. Most of the people (employees and business associates) who are part of my life for at least 8 hours a day are completely absent. I am visited by the ghosts of Christmas past who remind me about the beloved family members who are not with us anymore, and I fight back by focusing on those who are with me now, clamoring for my attention.

Lots of people struggle with the dramatic shift from the routine during the holidays, not just the ADHD friends among us.

So, how do I deal with this period of non-routine without going crazy, hurting someone, or running back to the office early? Here are a few tricks I can share:

1. Make some time for yourself every day.  Maybe it's an hour early in the morning or late in the evening, but don't minimize the need for your own time alone.  I use it for prayer and meditation, and reading.
2. Don't completely abandon the routine. Pick parts of your routine that you will keep over the holidays.  I keep my morning routine as close to normal as possible. I also make sure to make some time to check my email and read every day.
3. If you are uncomfortable, tell those you love. Wouldn't you want to know if some you loved was a bit out of sorts? Speaking up about your discomfort can take away some of its power and make things a little easier.
4. Remember that your regular routine will return soon. Normal will come back. Don't worry.  Enjoy the distractions. Knowing that you'll have your routine back soon can give you the freedom to really enjoy now.

My time of escape to write this is almost over.  It's time to step back into that holiday world.

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Have you tried the My Life Recovery blog yet?

Knowing the Rules vs Following the Rules

Anyone who knows me well knows that I am, generally speaking, a rule follower and law obeyer.  Yes, I am the one who stops at a red light on a country road at night when there is clearly no one around, waiting patiently for the green light. I do my best (although not perfectly) to adhere to the speed limit. I don't park in parking spaces designated for the disabled, and I don't violate warnings of "No Trespassing."

In most of my life, knowing the rules and following the rules are the same thing.

But it's not true with writing.

Oh, I know the rules.  I definitely know all the rules. I just choose not to follow them all the time.  Call it my own personal little rebellion against "the man."  I'll defiantly start sentences with conjunctions (like I just did above), or I'll brazenly end sentences with prepositions. I'm the queen of the run-on sentence and the duchess of the dangling participle.

Why?  Because it's the prerogative of creativity to ignore the rules sometimes.

However, you really have to know the rules well first.  I've read pieces of writing that were riddled with grammatical errors that were obviously unintentional.  That's not creativity.  That's poor writing. I've also read writing that was masterfully written; not only did the grammatical "errors" not interfere with the meaning of the piece, but they actually enhanced it by clarifying the voice of the author. It's a thing of beauty when it's done right.  It's painful to read when it's not.

So, here I sit with more education than should be allowed by law, expertly  aware of the rules of writing and doing whatever I want to anyway. I'm a rebel. I'm a literary outlaw.

I'm a writer.

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Just Like Breathing

I was corresponding with an acquaintance recently, and he asked what I had read lately.  As I was going through the list with him, he interrupted and said, "Whoa! You must have lots of free time on your hands.  I don't have time to read like that." I laughed, remembering that this person didn't know me very well.  I simply answered," I can't not read. For me, reading and writing are just like breathing."  And so it is.

On any given day, I'll read parts of two or three novels, pieces of several non-fiction books, a newspaper, email, twitter, Facebook posts, and a wide variety of articles and essays. It's not a hardship or something I struggle to do.  I do it just because. I do it because it just feels like the right thing to do.  Like breathing.

George R.R. Martin wrote, "The mind needs books like a sword needs a whetstone."  Without a whetstone, a sword becomes dull and, eventually, useless. The same thing happens to the mind without reading...at least that's how it is for me.

I can't imagine a life without reading. I can feel my brain begin to atrophy if I'm forced to cut back on my reading for a day or two due to social events or work (fortunately, my work requires that I read and write a lot). I find my connection to most of the rest of humankind in the written word. That doesn't mean I don't socialize or enjoy conversation, but that there is a depth of understanding that I can process best through the written word. My closest relationships have been developed at some point in the relationship through writing (letters or email or shared journaling).

And just as breathing requires inhaling and exhaling, feeding fully on the written word usually involved both taking it in (reading) and letting it out (through writing or conversation) after it has gone through me, nourished me, changed me in some way. I could no more keep it all inside without sharing it than I could hold my breath forever.

Knowledge and wisdom are meant to circulate among us - like air.

And that circulation sustains me.

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The Rogue Daffodil

I have a rogue daffodil in my parking lot, in the planter just next to where I park my car every day. Leaves are falling all around and there is nothing but dirt in its planter.  Nothing else has popped up in the middle of autumn, but this little naturalized daffodil apparently doesn't know that it's not supposed to be up yet. We haven't even had the first freeze yet.  What is he, crazy?

I wonder what's going to happen.  The cold freezes of our winter nights may just kill it before it ever gets a chance to bloom. Or maybe, just maybe, it will bloom early in spite of the cold.  It could be one of a kind - the only daffodil in full bloom in December or early January. It could defiantly succeed at being itself in spite of what it is supposed to do.

Have you figured out where I'm going with this?

What is it that you haven't been doing because you believe you can't? Who decided what your limits should be? Usually, we limit ourselves based on what someone told us at some point in our lives - our parents, a teacher, our friends. But sometimes we hold ourselves back just because we have some imagined limitation that is not based on any rational condition.

Consider taking another look at your life and how you're living it.  Is there something you want to do or be? Why not just go for it? Maybe it won't work out.  So what?  What if it does?

Don't worry so much about what is expected of you.  Just bloom!

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Dealing with Rejection

I fell in love - I mean really in love - for the first time when I was in 8th grade.  All my crushes before then were just kid stuff, but Matt was the real thing.  We were "going together" and everyone knew it (even though we never actually went anywhere because neither of us was allowed to date and we were too young to drive).  We shared several precious kisses - at a church-sponsored dance, at an amusement park, and on my front porch. Then one day, at a dance, he danced with Gina .... to our song (Three Times a Lady by the Commodores)...and then he kissed her.  And I couldn't breathe.

I was devastated.  It was a pain so intense that it reverberated across the decades.  When I think about it, I can still feel the ache of that betrayal and rejection.

It wasn't the last time I would experience rejection. Anytime you expose yourself emotionally to others you risk rejection. As a writer, you invest yourself in your work. You are putting your ideas, your skill, and your voice out there for judgement. You are actually putting yourself out there for judgement.

All writers experience rejection at some level at some time - the article or book not accepted for publication, the grant proposal not funded, the blog that can't maintain or grow a reader base.

Rejection hurts.

But you have to walk through it. You have to learn from it, and move on.

Just like the only way to avoid repeating the pain of the rejection of my first love would have been never to love again (an unacceptable option), the only way to avoid the pain of rejection as a writer is not to write again.  If you are the kind of writer that I am, you don't have a choice.  You have to write.

So you move forward, gingerly at first, and then you grow a tough skin, accepting that the sting of rejection is part of the price that you pay to experience the sweetness of success. Eventually, the pain of each rejection is mercifully brief and moving on gets a bit easier. The longer you live and the more you write, the more you develop a sense of perspective, and you know that the sting of rejection is temporary, and the deep satisfaction of success and of expressing yourself is much longer lasting.

That's why perseverance is so important.

P.S. Matt, I am so over you.  I thought you should know.

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Related Posts:

Dealing with Change

Grant Writing Success and Failure

For grant writing thoughts, resources, and tips, try The Grant Goddess Speaks.

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Who's Voice Is That?

One of my staff members wrote an executive summary for a report recently.  It was a well-written piece.  I reviewed it. It had all of its parts.  It was grammatically correct.  In short, it was a good executive summary. When our client read it, though, her first comment was, "Who wrote this?" She admitted there was nothing wrong with the writing, but she just knew it wasn't me. I didn't know if I should be flattered that she knew my writing well enough to recognize my voice (or the lack of it) or if I should be nervous because we were caught with someone else in my organization writing it (although there is nothing wrong with our team writing effort in this situation).

There is no question that my writing has a distinctive voice. The whole concept of voice (which is different than tone) is that it is unique to you. It is the quality of your writing that allows your audience to know that you wrote something. Every piece of good writing has a voice, regardless of whether it is fiction or non-fiction. I have read articles on academic writing that discuss the concept of voice as the difference between just regurgitating the research and other peoples' opinions and the contribution that you make to the intellectual discussion. This made sense to me.

I'm sure you have read a bunch of articles and web pages that just repeat information you can find elsewhere. This is particularly true in this age of massive online content generation.  You can find someone online to write a 500 word article for you for $5 and you can slap your name on it and share it or sell it.  So what? What does that add to the discussion?

I was reading my son's gaming blog recently and I was struck my the fact that he has developed a voice that is uniquely his. It made me smile.  OK, I was a little proud, too. He has something valuable to say, and I am certain that the success of his blog is not about grammar and punctuation (or occasional grammar and punctuation errors) or even about the content.  The success of his blog about what he brings to that content.  It's his voice.

If you are a regular reader of any of our blogs (The Grant Goddess Speaks, A Writer's Journey, Sexy Grant Writers, Veronica Robbins Unleashed, Grant Outline, Grant Beast) you can tell who wrote each post based on the voice. Those of us who contribute, including our guest bloggers, each have something unique to say and a very unique way of saying it.

When advising new writers, I emphasize the importance of developing a voice.  This is not about finding your voice, but developing it as a writer. Your voice isn't hidden.  It's you. Developing it is all about learning to free it, rather than suppress it, in your writing.

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Here is some more information about the difference between tone and voice, and how you can develop your own voice in writing.

Related Posts from A Writer's Journey:

What Would You Write If You Weren't Afraid?

So Many Writing Media Choices, But Are We Saying Anything?

When Written Communication Doesn't Communicate

What Men Really Mean

Does Public Education Support or Discourage Young Writers?

Things I Can Do Now That Baseball Season is Over

Yes, baseball season is over, and I'm in that strange and uncomfortable place between elation (Woohoo!!! My Giants won the World Series!) and confusion (what do I do now?). For the past seven months, I've been watching baseball 5-7 times per week. I have driven into San Francisco (1.5 hours each way) more times than I can count during just about every home stand to cheer on the team. I have read baseball blogs and checked box scores and tweeted Giants love just about every day. I have neglected my favorite TV shows and all but eliminated any non-baseball-related social life. Yes, I have friends who live a block away who I haven't seen for seven months.

Now what?

Because I am a left-brained, analytical type, I decided to make a list of some of  the things I can do now that baseball season is over - just to help me get through this transitional period.  Here is my list (not necessarily in order of priority):

1. Prioritize this list.
2. Program the app in my iPhone to count down the days until opening day 2011.
3. Spend more time reading and playing with my six year old.
4. Finish reading Life of Pi. I started reading it after a friend recommended it in June and, well, I never made it beyond chapter 1.
5. Get back to writing in my journal every day.  My daily entries stopped somewhere in May and became infrequent rants about the San Diego Padres and the Los Angeles Dodgers.
6. Reintroduce myself to my non-baseball friends.
7. Order my World Series Championship gear (caps, shirts, etc.)
8. Put down my deposit for our season tickets for 2011.
9. Write more blog posts.
10. Make a movie with my son and post it online.
11. Learn how to shoot a rifle.
12. Think of a friendly salutation to greet people that doesn't include, "Go Giants!"
13. Clean up and store my Giants purse and other baseball gear for use next season.
14. Make a Christmas list.
15. Send out Christmas cards.
16. Take a walk downtown in the early evening and enjoy the shops.
17. Take my son to the park.
18. Volunteer in my son's classroom.
19. Prune my roses.
20. Teach my son how to edit videos.
21. Make a photo book to send to family for Christmas.
22. Expand my daily meditation time.
23. Call my friends and family more often to tell them I love them.
24. Develop more online courses for Grant Goddess University.
25. Continue my video blog.
26. Write another book.
27. Write more letters.
28. Clean my desk.
29. Wave and smile sweetly to the impolite neighbors across the street (Yes, I'm baaaack!)
30. Get back to Bible study.
31. Go to a movie with my husband.
32. Attend more school board meetings.
33. Bake cookies with my son.
34. Sleep in one day a week.

I think that's a good start for now. Before I know it, it'll be April again and it will be time to follow baseball again.  

Who am I kidding?  Spring training starts in February. That means I have only three months to get to everything on that list.  Suddenly, I'm stressed. I think I'll watch a replay of World Series Game 6 to calm down and relax. 

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Take a few minutes to check out The Grant Goddess Speaks, too.

Technology and Young Children

I was in a grant planning meeting yesterday talking with some educators about innovative ideas for teaching math and science to young children (grades pre-– 3). At one point the topic of technology came up, and one of the meeting participants said, "I don't want to do anything with technology. Little children shouldn't be playing with technology. They should be going outside, looking at bugs, experiencing nature, and learning from the real world."

I've heard this perspective before, and I don't disagree that young children should be exposed to the natural world and be as active as possible while they are learning, both physically and mentally. However, when I heard the objection to technology expressed in this way it made me think. Just what is the "real world?" Isn't the "real world" for children today a world of interactive technology? Whoever said that technology and learning in the natural world were mutually exclusive? Can't technology be used as a tool to help young children explore their world?

I don't think anyone would argue that the world is changing faster than most of us adults can keep up, but I don't think that means that we should hold our children back. Introducing technology at a young age does not necessarily mean they will turn into overweight, inactive, uninspired video game playing couch potatoes. It's up to us, as adults, to teach them how to use knowledge properly as well to teach them when technology should not be used. It's important that we don't limit their future because we’re stuck in the past.

My six-year-old son is energetic, active, and inquisitive. He loves learning about the world and he enjoys playing outside. He also knows his way around a computer better than at least half of the teachers I know. Some of the technology tools made for young children (like the Leapster 2 and the new Leapster Explorer) have been very educational for him and fun! We get no less enjoyment out of sharing digital books together (like Disney’s digital books) than we do when sharing hard copy books. At Christmas this year (ssshhhhh!), he’ll be getting his own handheld device (iPod Touch) so he can move around as he plays his games (including a wide variety of learning games) and (now that he's learning to read and write) send and receive his own e-mail. Yes, I will continue to monitor his online activity very closely, but why would I deny him the tools that will give him access to the learning and the business enterprise of his future?

Does it make more sense to wait until students are in middle school or even later to give them access to technology as a tool for learning, when learning the technology will be just as hard as learning algebra, or to let them start to use it to unlock their world as soon as their little fingers can manipulate a mouse?

As a grant writer, my job is to help others put their vision into writing to help them acquire funds to make it a reality.  Sometimes, though, I feel the need to push a little – just a little – to help them expand their vision and look into the future.

I have never understood the logic behind holding children back from learning. They can fly forward with new learning - unless we hold them back. 

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Take a look at The Grant Goddess Speaks, too.

Oh, What a Difference a Letter Makes!

This writing business is not as easy as it looks. For example, I asked my six year old son, a first grader, why he thought he got a C on last week's spelling test when he got A's on the two previous tests. He answered quickly and confidently, "These words had more letters!" Sure enough, the little man was right. On the last two spelling tests, most of the words were three letter words. On the most recent test, most were four letter words (the good kind, not the bad kind). That's a 25% increase in difficulty. One letter sure can make a difference.

That got me thinking about other situations in which one letter changed everything.

I worked with a grant writer once who missed something critical in the proofreading process and sent out a grant with this in the first line of the narrative (name changed to protect the angry client): "XYZ Pubic School District....". My guess is that he would have given just about anything for a strategically placed "L."

When I was a freshman in college I was helping my mother and stepfather move to a different house. My task was to pack up the kitchen and clearly label the boxes with the word "kitchen" and a brief description of the contents of each box. Easy enough. I completed my task as assigned and the boxes were all moved. The next day, at the new house, we were unpacking and I heard my stepfather laugh loudly and exclaim, "What the heck (he didn't say 'heck' but this is a PG blog) is in this box?"

My mother and I hurried into the kitchen to see him standing there with a box that said "kitchen" on one side and "bowels" on the other.

Breakfast was never the same again.

See? One letter can make a big difference.


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Read more A Writer's Journey.


Other posts that may interest you:


An Open Letter to Teachers

If You Can Read This, Be Grateful - Literacy is Not Universal

A Life in 140 Words or Less

My Email In-Box

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For thoughts and tips on grant writing, try The Grant Goddess Speaks.

An Open Letter to Teachers

Parent-teacher conferences for the first term are approaching. The whole concept of official parent – teacher conferences is a strange one to me. A very short block of time (usually 20 min. or so) is set aside to talk about my child's progress. To be more accurate, the time has been set aside for the teacher to talk to me (or at me, depending on your perspective) about my child's progress in the classroom. There is not time for many questions or for any real discussion, and there definitely isn't time for the parent to provide much feedback to the teacher on the parent perspective of the effectiveness of the teacher's strategies.

Like most parents, I will show up for my parent – teacher conference at the assigned time, sit in the tiny chair, listen to the teacher explain the marks on the report card, maybe ask a question or two, and then be on my way.

Here are some things that will be left unsaid during my conference (and probably most parents – teacher conferences):

1. My child is the most important person in my world. He is bright, funny, energetic, intuitive, and joyful. If you could see him how I see him, you would take a completely different approach to his education. Rather than checking off the standards that he has mastered and providing "intervention services" for the standards that he has not yet mastered, you would focus on his amazing strengths.
2. The most important thing to be nurtured in a child in the primary grades is a love for learning, not a checklist of standards. I am not at all against the teaching of discrete skills, but if it kills a child's love for learning, far more damage than good has taken place.
3. When you say negative things about my child, please remember that you are talking about the love of my life.
4. Please understand when I place more priority on family time than homework. The few hours I have in the evening each night with my child are precious. Giving up an hour or two of that time for homework that means very little to me and even less my child just doesn't make sense for our family. Besides, the research in the field is pretty clear on the fact that homework at the elementary level (grades kindergarten through six) has very little, if any, connection to academic achievement. Prioritizing family time over homework does not mean that I don't respect you or education. It just means that I have a bigger picture in mind for my child. Every day matters. Please don't punish my child for that.
5. Please don't find fault with me for continuing to bring the conversation back to my child and my child's needs. I fully understand that you have 30 students in the classroom and that juggling resources and schedules to address all of their needs is a monumental task, but it is my job to stay focused on my child. I hear lots of criticism about parents who are not involved in their children's education. Please don't find fault with me because I am involved.
6. Please be aware that I feel like I'm walking a tightrope between caring very much about my son's academic progress compared with other children and caring only about my son's progress compared with his own potential. At any given moment, either might be in the forefront of my mind.
7. If you have an issue or a concern about my son, please call or email me immediately.  Finding out about a problem weeks later is frustrating. Hearing about it from another parent in the community because they overheard you expressing your frustration to another teacher is intolerable. I want to hear from you.  I want open communication.  I know you're busy.  So am I.  But this is important.  We have to find a way to communicate.
8. If you need my help with something in particular, or if you think I should be working with my son on a particular skill or concept, please let me know.
9. I know the academic skills are very important, but most of the things I worry about for my son have nothing to do with academics - and that doesn't mean I don't care about academics.  I worry about his health, his safety, how he gets along with other children, his spiritual development, his character, and a million other things. How those issues intersect with his time at school (about 25%-30% of his life) really matters to me.
10. Please spend more time in your interactions with my son in building him up and encouraging him, rather than criticizing and finding fault. The world will start picking away at his self-confidence soon enough.  Please help me build it up for him.  Help me to help him see what a remarkable human being he is.
11. I don't know how many other parents understand this, but I fully understand that my child's education is my responsibility - not the school's, not yours. 

I hope that one of the most important things to be said at the parent-teacher conference will not be left unsaid:

Thank you!  

Thank you for devoting your career to children.  Thank you for taking the time to get to know my child and his needs.  Thank you for the hours you spend beyond your contracted hours to prepare materials, communicate with me by email, and participate in training so you can improve your teaching skills on an ongoing basis. Thank you for hugging my son when he falls down, for encouraging him when he thinks he can't succeed at something, for helping him learn how to resolve disputes with other children.  Thank you for making your classroom a physically and emotionally safe place so I have peace of mind when I drop my son off at school every day. Thank you for caring.

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Do the Unexpected - Be a Running Cow

Several years ago, I was driving home from visiting a client in a rural area and I noticed a cow running through a field, playing with her calves. It was a completely unexpected sight. Seriously, how often do you see fully grown cows running in a field?

I did a little online research on the subject and learned that while cows can run, they usually don't run unless they are stressed (being chased, etc.). Yet what I saw was definitely not a stressed cow. It was most definitely a happy cow (and yes, this happy cow was a California cow). Here's a video of cows running for pleasure (well, at least that's what the folks filming it in the truck say it is - pleasure), so I know it's not unheard of for cows to run for fun, but I can definitely say that it was an unexpected sight for me. It was such an unexpected sight that I pulled over to watch for a while.

Of course, watching that happy running cow got me thinking. Clearly that cow didn't know that she wasn't supposed to run and that we all just expect her to hang around and graze until it's time to go back to the barn. But she ran anyway, not because she had to, but because she wanted to. And I'm pretty sure she didn't care that I stopped to watch or what I was thinking about her running.

When was the last time you stepped out of your comfort zone and did something unexpected just because you wanted to? I think we tend to get so caught up in what we are expected to do and how people will react if we do something unexpected that we miss out on many of life's great experiences. Just as some of the most beautiful areas of the forest are off the beaten path, much of life's beauty is found in the unexpected, and we can only see it if we step out of our everyday routine and thought patterns of what we are expected to do.

This reminds me of Robert Frost's poem, The Road Not Taken:

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.


So, promise yourself that sometime today you're going to do something unexpected that brings you pleasure.

Take the road less traveled.

Be a running cow.

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For thoughts on grant writing and grant writing tips, visit The Grant Goddess Speaks....

Surrounded by Writers

Writing is generally a very solitary act.  Not that all writers are loners, but when you are writing, the interaction is generally between you and the computer.  I try to think about potential readers as I write, but the conversation is in my head before it comes out on the screen.

So, here I am in Las Vegas at the Blog World and New Media Expo, and I am surrounded by writers. For the first time in quite a while, I feel connected to a community of writers.  Wow! It's quite a feeling.

There is a huge mass of folks here who write blogs about how to make money online, but there are also hundreds of other niches represented here. In the last two days, I have met people who write about fitness, aging, retirement, home repair, personal development, time management online gaming, faith, weight loss, and more. I haven't met any other grant writers yet, but there is still time.  Who knows?

I have collected a thick pile of business cards and I have handed out just as many. I have talks to writers from all over the United States as well as a few from the U.K., Australia, and India. We have all stepped out of our isolation to come together to share lessons, ideas, and resources.

In about 24 hours, though, this community of writers will separate.  People will board planes for destinations all over the world. By Monday, we'll be back in front of our computers again, writing alone.

But we'll still be connected.  It's a virtual connection that we'll use to share ideas, encouragement, and resources until it's time to get together again next year.

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Read more A Writer's Journey.

Follow me on Twitter!

Other posts you may like:

If You Can read This, Be Grateful -- Literacy is Not Universal

Dealing with Change

Writing about Regrets

My Secret Late Night Pleasure

A Life in 140 Words or Less

If You Can Read This, Be Grateful - Literacy is Not Universal

If you can read, it probably seems like everyone can, and it seems like literacy is no big deal.  In reality, it is a very big deal.  One in seven U.S. adults can't read.  Let that sink in for a moment. That's about 14%.  In a group of 100 people, about 14 of them can't read. On a global level, 774 million people are illiterate and two-thirds of those are women.

I'll admit that I have taken literacy for granted. My mother taught me to read when I was 3 or 4 (she says I taught myself, but I'm not sure I believe that), and I can't remember not being able to read. Not only can I read, but I read well (and in more than one language), so I have access to more printed material than I could ever consume. These days, though, I am keenly aware that there are millions of women in this country and abroad who can't read and, as a result, don't have the opportunities that I do. I am now profoundly grateful.

Literacy is not just about economic opportunity.  For many people it is about survival.

Twenty years ago, I was teaching a bilingual (Spanish-English) 4th grade class in southern California. It was that year that I learned how much literacy really matters.  I had a young girl in my class that year named Elena.  Elena was a very bright girl with excellent literacy skills in Spanish. Her command of spoken English, however, was very basic, and our school district had very specific guidelines English reading. One of the criteria was the achievement of conversational fluency in English. As a new teacher, I was following district procedures by not including Elena in my English reading group, but I was working with her intensively on developing her English conversational skills. 

Until my first meeting with her mother in October that year.

Elena's mother met with me to find out why her daughter wasn't learning English reading. I carefully explained the district's transition procedures, and I showed her Elena's assessment results.  Based on her current level of performance, it was likely that Elena would begin transition in 5th grade - next year. I was arrogantly confident that I was on the right track with this student, and that I was doing the right thing.

Then, this articulate and kind mother began explaining her situation to me.  Elena was the oldest of 6 children.  Her father abandoned the family in Mexico two years before, so Elena's mother was a single mother in a new country, living with friends, working as a janitor in an industrial complex.  She spoke almost no English herself.

She was calm as she told most of her story, but her voice cracked as she started describing her other children. The youngest was rather sickly, she explained, and while she had medical insurance through her job, she couldn't read the written instructions provided by the doctor.  Then she started crying as she pulled about 6 prescription bottles from her purse.  She put them on the table and looked up me, speaking very slowly and deliberately.  Elena needed to be able to read English NOW so she could read the instructions on the prescription bottles.

I got it.  For the first time in my life, I really got it.  Literacy (in English) for this family was about survival.  It was about keeping a child alive. I felt ashamed.

I promised her that Elena would be reading in English within a few months (that was definitely a young teacher's arrogant promise). In the short run, I could help her by translating the labels of those prescription bottles into Spanish and taping the translations onto the bottles.  I told her she could bring me anything else she needed translated.  She did.  We became good friends.

The next day I sat down with Elena and we made a plan.  I moved her into my English reading group (secretly, so my principal wouldn't know I was breaking district policy) and I started working with Elena after school using a variety of literacy development approaches. She worked hard and she made excellent progress in both her conversational English and her English literacy skills. We practiced with the things her mother needed her to read - medicine labels, over the counter drug labels, cleaning product labels, the TV Guide (for her younger siblings), notes from teachers of her younger siblings. She was reading by Christmas.

She and her mother were very grateful, and I learned some valuable lessons. I never took my own literacy for granted again, and I never held a student back from learning something they wanted to learn after that. I became a believer in teachable moments, and I took district instructional policies as guidelines, rather than directives (I don't recommend this to all teachers, but it worked for me).

My first administrative job was as director of a family literacy program.

Literacy matters.

If you can read this, you should be very grateful because millions of people can't.

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Dealing with Change

"The world never stands still. It is a constant becoming. The face of the earth – as well as the face you see in the mirror – offers clear evidence that all is flux and change…" – Robert Collier

I know that the world is always changing. I am always changing. You are always changing. There is really no such thing as a static or non-changing state of living. Even so, sometimes the changes come so fast that they leave us reeling, grasping for stability, reaching for the familiar.

I grew up in a home where chaos and unexpected change were the norm. While psychologists would say that the home I grew up in was dysfunctional, it prepared me very well for facing times of rapid change. When I was a little girl, one of the few constants in my life was you wouldn't know what would happen at home on any given day. The unexpected was the norm.

So it shouldn't surprise me that in this time of economic tribulation and rapid change, I find a strange bit of familiarity in rolling with unexpected changes. What I learned from it as a child is that "this too shall pass," the sun will rise tomorrow regardless of what has happened today, and life goes on. I also learned that the harder I struggle against the change – the harder I fight it – the more pain I cause myself. On the other hand, the more I accept the change, the easier it is to adapt quickly and the more I am able to enjoy the unexpected upsides of even the most seemingly negative situations.

My mother taught me that my happiness rests squarely on my own shoulders and how I choose to view the world, the people around me, and the changes that happened in my life. I can waste time fighting the change or blaming somebody else for causing the change, or I can dust myself off, enjoy the new view and re-chart my course. For the most part, I choose the latter response - Not because I have no choice, but precisely because I do have a choice. I choose to be happy.

What's your choice?

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Writing about Regrets

I came across a blog recently called My Biggest Regret Ever. Folks anonymously send in a brief description of their biggest regrets and the blogger posts them. Some of the regrets posted are simple, but most are deeply touching.  Many are heartbreaking, particularly because most of the respondents are young people.


Here are a few  recent posts:

"My biggest regret ever is pretending to be happy.  Every day I try to please people and act happy with my life.  Truth is, I’m not.  I hide behind my shyness and I regret it every day."[Female, 15]

"My biggest regret ever is living most of my childhood life filled with lies and frustration.  It took me more than 3 years to build the courage to confront my parents to tell them that I’ve been sexually abused since the age of 5 by my uncle. Honesty, I feel so relieved that I’ve gotten to talk to my parents about it, although I did tell my mom when I was drunk =/.  I still feel happy that my family loves me for who I am and that I’ve made my family more aware of what is happening in my life. Advice to everyone out there that experiences the same issue, please think about all the people that care for you and that you’re not alone." [Female, 17]

"My Biggest Regret ever is letting a boy finger me while I was in church.  I didn’t think it through and now I just feel God and my grandparents have no respect for me.  I have no respect for myself for doing something like that.  I can’t even stand walking into church anymore." [Female, 16]

"My biggest regret ever is being afraid of commitment my entire life.  I’m nearly 35, and there are few people in this world that I’ve ever felt close to.  I am letting life, and the best things it has to offer, pass me by." [Female, 34]

"My biggest regret ever is trusting you.  I trusted you and you betrayed me.  You made me feel special, but how many “special bonds” do you have?  Seriously, you are nothing but a pathetic man who’s just scared of being alone.  A cliché, that’s what you are."[Female, 18]

Each one that I read made me stop and think, and wish I could reach out to the person posting it. I hope they found a small measure of comfort in putting their secret regrets in writing, even if anonymously.

I try to live my life in such a way as to have no regrets, but I don't know if it's possible. People make mistakes.  People make choices.  Sometimes we make choices that we wish we could make again, but you can't turn back time.  All you can do is go forward from where you are and try to live fully and well.

Sure, I have some regrets. Some I can share publicly and some I can't. Some of those events have led to changes in my life that have turned out to be wonderful blessings, so I can't really regret them anymore.  It's funny how life can be like that, isn't it? Most of what we experience is temporary. Holding onto regrets just makes them last; it gives them a life far beyond what they deserve.

I prefer to try to hold onto my happy moments - the joy - more than the regrets.

If writing about your regrets anonymously helps you let go of them, by all means, write away. But then talk to someone. Learn that you are not alone.

Then let go.

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The Perils of Working at Home

Look at this great picture of a mom working at home.  Doesn't she look happy, relaxed, and productive?  And how about that gorgeous baby?! The baby is content, clean, and quiet enough for mom to conduct business on the phone with the baby in her lap. The desk is clean and neatly organized.  Everyone in this little family is happy. Wow.

That's what working at home is like.

Seriously?

You are not going to like this.

I have decided that it's time to share an unpopular piece of reality. Many of the things you believe about working at home are simply not true. The romantic images of working at home that most people have in their heads are cruel hoaxes, perpetrated by people who are either slackers, charlatans, or borderline autistic with uncanny powers of focus.

I told you you weren't going to like it.

Now, before all of the self-employed folks working at home start commenting, e-mailing, and tweeting me, let me explain myself…

There are some definite advantages to working at home. It's absolutely true that your schedule is more flexible and that can spend more time with family. It's also true that you can work in your slippers if you want to and you'll save a fortune on lunch because you don't have to go out; you can just step into your own kitchen and make a sandwich.

One of the biggest advantages that people often cite for working at home is the advantage of being your own boss; however, that is actually an advantage of self-employment, regardless of whether or not you work at home or in a suite of offices.

I'm all for self employment, and I can totally understand the attraction of working at home, but the romantic notion of working at home that many people hold is just wrong.

As a self-employed business owner, I have worked at home and I have worked in an office, both with and without employees. When I first started my current business over 10 years ago, I started it in my living room, and I loved it. As much as I loved it, I learned about the perils of working at home and I accommodated for them as best I could, but it just worked out better for me to get out of the house and work from an office.

A couple of years ago I wrote an article about time management tips for home based business owners. I knew I had learned a few things that could benefit others.

You would think that I would remember all of those things when I found myself working at home again this week as I stayed home to care for a sick family member. Instead, I was reminded of exactly why I chose to get an office.

So, if you're thinking of working at home, keep these things in mind:

Everything in your house is a distraction, from the dishes in the kitchen sink to the bills in your desk to the television. Staying focused on income generating activities is critically important for self-employed individuals. It's a difficult discipline to develop even if you don't have many distractions, and it's nearly impossible to master if everything around you is calling you away from focus.

If you manage to get into a groove of focus, it's harder to stop working when you're at home than when you're at an office. Okay, I know that self-employed people are never really "off work," but if you are working at home you are, literally, always at work. So much for having more time with your family. In fact, I have learned that my family would much prefer that I do my work at the office so that when I come home I am truly present with them, and not just pretending to be with them while I continue to work.

One more thing, the whole fantasy about working in your slippers is a trap. Researchers have actually documented that people working at home are much more productive if they dress and behave as if they were going to an office to work. That means wearing makeup, fixing your hair, and wearing real shoes. If you don't, not only will you be much less productive, but that will surely be the day that several delivery people, a few neighbors, and the local Jehovah's Witnesses come to your door. If you dress and groom as if you were leaving for the office, your doorbell won't ring all day (one less distraction). I don't know why it works this way, but I have come to accept it as one of the great truths of the universe.

I think there should be a warning label that accompanies all claims of how wonderful it is to work at home. That warning label should delineate the perils of working at home and warn you, "Work at Home at Your Own Risk."

The next time anybody tries to lure you into working at home (particularly the multilevel marketing folks who tend to say that working from home is nothing but sunshine and sweetness) ask them to tell you about at least three disadvantages of working at home. If they can (and will), you might be able to trust them. If not, run for the hills. Go into it with your eyes open, or don't go into it at all.

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Writing Things That No One Will Read

Most people write with the assumption, or at least the hope, that someone will read what they have written.  After all, why else would you write? OK, journaling is an exception. Apparently, I am another exception.  Well, it's not just me, but evaluators everywhere.

We collect data.  We analyze it.  We develop detailed and compelling reports about program successes and failures.  Well, maybe they are not always that compelling, but they are detailed, and they do take a lot of energy and effort to produce.

We submit them with pride, congratulating ourselves on another job well done.  And then we wait.  And we wait.  What are we waiting for?  We are waiting for feedback that never comes. We are waiting for evidence that someone - anyone - has actually read the report.

About seven times out of ten, we wait in vain.  Our reports get submitted to the powers that be who check off the box that says, "report submitted" and everyone goes on with their lives.

On a rare occasion, I'll have a client who reviews the report and submits suggestions for corrections or changes.  On an even rarer occasion, I'll have a client who actually wants to get together to discuss my findings and talk about how they can be used to improve the program. Those are giddy and heady times for me, believe me.

Usually, however, that's not the case.  People just wait impatiently, and I can hear the virtual sound of the tapping of feet as they apply the pressure to finish faster so they can turn it in and get the box checked off. Sometimes the pressure is not so subtle.  They'll call and say, "What's taking so long?" And then they stop short, but I can tell they want to say, "No one is going to read it anyway."

You want to know why it takes so long?  It takes a long time because data analysis is a complex task.  It takes a long time because I have some integrity and I take pride in my work, even when I know no one will read it.  It takes a long time because I have been hired to do a good job, so I do. True, yours is probably not the only project on my desk, but that doesn't mean that I and my staff are not giving it the attention it deserves.

Staying motivated to do a good job when you know that no one cares is not always easy, but there is always someone who knows.  Who?

Me.

No matter who else reads the report, I still have to look myself in the mirror each day. I care.


And that matters.


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The Voice in My Head

The voice in my head is pretty active today. Yes, I have a voice in my head that seems like it's not my own, and she seems to be pretty vocal lately.  No, I don't "hear voices" (so there's no need to contact the mental health authorities).

I used to think it was the voice of my conscience speaking, but then I noticed one day that some of the things she says are not necessarily aligned with my current world view or moral compass.  It's true.  Sometimes, she makes me do a double-take and wonder who the heck she is, but other times she's as familiar as a comfortable pair of shoes - warm, supportive, comfortable.

When the voice is encouraging, I like her.  In fact, I even try to take credit for her and assume she's me.  But when she's critical or discouraging, I know she's a foreigner and I sigh like I did when I was 12.

It's the voice of my mother.

Here are some of the less-than-supportive things she has said to me in the last 24 hours:

• "No, you can't wear those shoes.  It's after Labor Day."
• "Go ahead and wear that dress. I suppose it doesn't matter matter what people think."
• "Are you sure you want to do that?"
• "How many calories are in that?"
• "You're going to waste your money on Starbucks???"
• "So what if everybody is doing it? Would you jump off a bridge if everyone else did?"
• "You never listen."
• "A penny saved is a penny earned. You could save a bunch of pennies if you re-used that disposable cup....again."
• "I think you could have done better."
• "This isn't your best work.  Were you going for the 'I really don't care' effect?"
• "If you leave the house like that, this will be the day you get into a car wreck."

But she's not always critical.  Here are some of the encouraging and supportive things I've heard her say in the last day:

• "What a great idea!."
• "It's OK to choose time with your son over work. He's precious, and he's growing up fast."
• "How fortunate you are that your husband loves you so much."
• "Are you the most fortunate woman in the world, or what?!"
• "Good hair day...nice!"
• "Donny is such a fine young man.  You should be proud."
• "Derek, MaryEllen, Sam and Beth are such blessings in your life, not just your business....it's good you know that. Are you showing them that you know it?"
• "Good for you for choosing to cook a healthy meal at home, rather than calling out for pizza."
• "No, the world won't stop spinning if you stop for prayer throughout the day.  In fact, your world will spin a little more smoothly."
• "You made a difference today."
• "You're not alone."

I used to think I wanted her out of my head, but come to think of it, I kind of like her there.

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My Email Inbox

My email inbox is a very interesting place. It's full (and I mean full) of email from all sorts of different sources.  There are notifications (I'm trying to remember why I thought I needed a notification for every new Twitter follower, lead visiting the website, or Facebook comment), announcements, (a new course coming up for parents of children with ADHD, a local non-profit board meeting agenda, and on and on and on....), newsletters (I don't even know how many lists I'm on, and yes, at some point in time I actually double opted in on them all), communications from clients and potential clients (these are the only messages I really want), letters from family (ok, I want these, too), and spam, lots and lots of spam (I can have a spam filter that is the virtual equivalent of the Great Wall of China and it still gets through).

All of this equates to hundreds of emails flowing through my email inbox.  And are you ready for this?  This is for only one of my six email addresses. The others don't get as much traffic, but one of them is coming close.

I love to read and I read very. very fast, but what do people do who don't read as quickly as I do?  How do they possibly get through all this email?

One of the things that really bothers me is that sifting through so much stuff makes it more likely that I'll miss something important.  I know, I know....I have tried different filters to send email to different folders so I can focus on the ones I need to see first, but there's always a glitch, and the last time I really tried that, I ended up losing more than if I had just dealt with the long list.

Another problem I have is that I seem to be constitutionally incapable of hitting that delete button as much as I should. I try.  Really, I do. But then that little voice inside says, "What if you'll need that later?"

The good news from this situation is that my experience has made me very conscience about the email I send out.  Oh, I have a long mailing list like most other business owners have nowadays, but I try to use it sparingly and judiciously. Do people really need to get an email from me 3-4 times a week?  No.  They don't. If they really want to hear from me that often, they can subscribe to one of my 6 blogs (or all of them).  Then they can have me on their computer screen every day, several times a day, or they can follow me on Twitter and hear from me even more often.  The truth is that if anyone really wants to hear from me, there are plenty of avenues for them to do so.  The last thing they need is me forcing even more on them through email.

 I wish the lists that I am on would have the same perspective, but they don't. They apparently believe that signing up for their newsletter means that I have given them carte blanche to email me as often as they want for any purpose.

That brings me full circle to the whole concept of the delete button again, or even better, the unsubscribe button. If I can get beyond the little voice whispering, "What if you'll need this?", I run into the voice that screams, "If someone took the time to write this, you should show them the courtesy of reading it." {sigh}  Really?

Then it occurs to me.  That's my mother's voice in my head! 


That's it.  There's no use fighting the mama voice.

About 30 emails have come in while I have been writing this.  I'd better get back to reading it all.

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My Secret Late-Night Pleasure

I have decided that it's time for me to share my secret late-night pleasure with the world. This really has been a secret, but I suspect that my husband might know something about it, even though I haven't yet shared it with him openly.

Don't worry. This blog is still rated G (okay, maybe a spicy PG sometimes).

Here it is: Every night, very late at night, when I am in bed and after I am sure my husband is asleep, I privately indulge in one of my greatest pleasures. Keeping the lights turned off and scooching way over to my side of the bed, I pull up the covers and try to stay very still so I don't wake my husband.

Then I reach over the side of the bed and feel around on the floor until I find what I'm looking for. That's where I keep it, plugged in at night so it can recharge, and hidden just under the dust ruffle of the bed so no one can see it, although I'm not sure why I do that because I am certainly not ashamed of it nor am I worried that anyone would steal it here in my bedroom late at night. Before I bring it up into bed with me I usually turn one last time to check and make sure that my husband really is asleep. Once I am certain that he is, I get down to business.

I pull my iPhone into bed with me, tap the Kindle app, and choose a book to read. Sometimes I pull the covers up over my head and read under the covers so the light won't disturb my husband, and I feel just like I did when I was a kid and I would read under the covers late at night with a flashlight.

I don't just read books. Sometimes, I'll go into Google Reader and read 50 or 60 blogs. Other times, I'll disappear into Twitter, tweeting and re-tweeting until the wee hours of the morning.

At some point during all this reading creative ideas start to pop into my head and I quickly open my Awesome Note app. My fingers fly across the touchscreen as a record of the ideas either in my journal folder, the marketing folder for work, the grant folder, or my to do list. Sometimes I head over to Facebook and post a comment or two before writing my gratitude list for the day and taking some time to chat with God before I go to sleep.

Every now and then, my husband moves like he's going to roll over to my side of the bed and I hide the phone quickly under my pillow, only pulling it out again when I know it's safe.

This is my time. It's just me and God and words and ideas flowing freely, uninterrupted by the demands of my life. It's not the same as reading during the day because something or someone will inevitably interrupt that time or I will interrupt myself because there other things I could or should be doing.

But not now. This is my time. There's nothing else I should be doing. This is exactly what I should be doing.

This is my secret late-night pleasure.

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A Life in 140 Words or Less

I was browsing through the many documents on my computer desktop a few minutes ago looking for something in particular I need to work on when I found the first draft of my mother's obituary, written over 3 1/2 years ago (yes, my desktop is a mess and I really do have documents from years ago just floating out in the open in cyberspace). As I opened it, all of the emotion I experienced when I wrote it came flooding back. I didn't want to write it, but there was just an assumption in the family that I would be the one to take care of this task. Maybe it's because I write for a living. Maybe it's because I wrote my grandmother's obituary less than a year before. Maybe it's simply because nobody else wanted to do it. It really doesn't matter; the task fell to me.

On movies and TV shows about up-and-coming reporters you hear jokes about reporters who start their careers writing obituaries, and obituary writing is treated as something less than "real" writing because obituaries have a standard format and are typically filled with facts that call for (and allow) little creativity. You open with a paragraph announcing that the person died, when they died, where they died, and how old they were when they died, and on a rare occasion someone might add how they died. The following paragraph lists surviving family members. The next paragraph cites family members who died before, and the obituary closes with the details of the funeral or memorial service and where to send donations or condolences to the family. I can see how that would be pretty dry, and how reporters faced with that task would do just about anything they could to move up to something else.


However, some newspapers allow family members to write the obituary themselves and to add a paragraph between the introductory "just the facts" paragraph and the paragraph about surviving family members that tells the reader a little something about the person's life. Mom's whole obituary was 350 words. The paragraph about her life was 138 words.


138 words to capture the essence of 65 years of living, loving, learning, grieving, rejoicing, teaching, giving, laughing, worshiping, crying, sharing, taking, risking, and surviving. 138 words to try to convey to the world the sense of loss I felt in those days after mom left us. 138 words to help people who would never meet her understand how this world has been a better place because she was here. 138 words to help people who knew her remember what a difference she made and all the things she did and the roles she played during the times of her life before and after her life intersected with theirs. 138 words to describe her life for the archives of history--the official written record of her life and death. 138 words to say goodbye.


When I wrote my grandmother's obituary, I felt a sense of pride as I researched the life she lived as a young woman, and all the things she accomplished. I was pleased with how what I had written represented grandma's life. Even the hint of missing emotion in the list of facts about her life seemed to appropriately mirror the emotional distance my grandmother maintained between herself and those around her, even most members of her family. While it wasn't the best writing I've ever done, I thought I did well.


But mom's obituary was different. At the time I wrote it (and rewrote it and rewrote it and…) I knew it wasn't good enough. Even now, almost 4 years later, when I look at it I feel like I let her down. I had 140 words. In the middle of a highly restricted 350 word obituary to say anything I wanted about her life in any way that I wanted to say it. And what I came up with was a list of things she had done in her life. While it was accurate, it didn't capture her, and that's what makes me sad today. 


I thought about rewriting it at some point, not because anybody else cares, but because I think I could do better now that the intense fog of grief has lifted. No, I know I can do better. When I think about it I can hear mom's voice in my head saying two things concurrently – "If you think you can do better, then rewrite it" and "It really doesn't matter; the people who loved me, the people who mattered, knew who I was." 


In my defense (or maybe I'm just justifying a poor writing job), I think it's nearly impossible to capture the essence of the person's life in 140 words or less. Even so, when I think of my mom, a few single word descriptors rise to the top as the best way to summarize her life: Love. Joy. Fear. Resilience. Service.


That was Mom.


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