Kissing Frogs

by Susan Sey

It’s 1994. I’m twenty-one years old, student teaching 9th grade English. In the four months I’ve been on the job, Tonya Harding has put out a hit on Nancy Kerrigan’s knee & Kurt Cobain’s committed suicide. It’s a pretty accurate barometer of how my pursuit of a teaching certificate is going, actually. But since my dad has recently informed me I can’t be a camp counselor forever, I feel compelled to augment my imminent English degree with an actual skill set. Hence the teaching certificate.

My cooperating teacher is napping behind a barricade of books on his desk. I am three inches shorter & twenty pounds lighter than my smallest student, a fact that has not gone unnoticed. Kids are actually singing & dancing in the aisles. I have completely lost control of my class, which is bad enough. But then something in my head snaps—what the hell am I doing spending my senior year of college in high school??—and I lose control of myself, too.

At the top of my surprisingly formidable camp counselor lungs, I bellow, “STOP!”

There is an instant of shocked silence. I find this immensely gratifying & am about to perform a hostile take over of my own class when somebody gets there first. Two beats into my hard-won silence, a girl yells, “Hammer time! Doot, doot, doot-doot…”

(It’s a song, for those of you too young to get the joke. MC Hammer? See, there were these crazy pants, too, & this little dance he did, and...okay, never mind. You'll have to trust me on this. It was a big thing.)

Anyway, the class about injures itself laughing—admittedly, her comic timing is exquisite—and there goes my brief flirtation with efficacy.

Okay. So. Not a teacher. Sorry, Dad.

And why am I telling you this story?

Because I got invited to my 20 high school reunion this week.

Because in my high school year book, I predicted that by now I'd be living on my own private island with an iguana named Issaac writing best-selling novels. (I have a husband, two kids & a house in the suburbs, in case you were wondering how that worked out for me.)

Because while my dad didn't specifically include writing romance novels in the "camp counseling is not a career" talk, I understood it came under the same heading.

Because after thirteen years of trying other things, I sat down & started writing anyway.

Because after five years of writing, I sold a book.

Because after two years of waiting, that book--Money, Honey--is finally going to hit the shelves.

In exactly one week.

Ladies (and gentlemen, I know you're out there), today I am here to testify. If yesterday's post didn't convince you (and congrats again, Suz), maybe today's will tip the balance.

Dreams aren't impossible. Only improbable. And this is coming from a woman whose toddlers used to blurt out, "Rejection letters!" every time they saw a mailbox.

Sometimes you have to kiss a lot of frogs, people. But you kiss the right one?

Worth it. Totally worth it.

So what about you? Have you ever dreamed the impossible dream? Longed for something so outlandish you didn't really allow yourself to hope for it? (I include Hugh Jackman, Christian Bale, & a tremendous singing voice on my list, so don't be shy.) Did you ever pursue it? Even a little? How did that work out for you?

Be Careful What You Wish For

by Beth Andrews

Friday, after lugging in approximately 263 bags of groceries (Seriously. Those of you with teenagers in your home--or if you've ever had teenagers in your home--can feel my pain, can't you?) my daughter told me that while we were gone, Harlequin had called (the joys of caller ID *g*) I'd sent in two proposals just over two weeks ago so I wasn't really expecting my editor to call about them until the end of March or so. Plenty of time, I figured, to get a head start on the first story, just in case my editor wanted to buy it.

When my daughter played the message on the answering machine and we heard my lovely editor tell me she wanted to buy both proposals (she's so great - she was worried I wouldn't get the message in time to call her back and didn't want me to wonder all weekend what she'd wanted *g*) we both screamed and jumped up and down basically gave my husband a heart attack when he struggled through the door with the last of the groceries *g*
I sold two more books! I'm (almost) a multi-published author! My dream of having two stories under contract and writing to a deadline has come true!

What the H-E-Double-Hockey-Sticks am I supposed to do now??


Now, don't get me wrong. I'm absolutely thrilled to have sold again. And I'm already a good ways into this story and I love the premise and the characters, but every once in a while that annoying voice inside my head whispers, "You can't do it"

I hate that stupid voice.

Good thing I gave up doubt for Lent or else I might be tempted to listen to that voice instead of shoving it out of my head and into the path of a herd of stampeding elephants *g*

So while I'm a bit nervous about writing to an honest to goodness deadline for the first time, I'm also excited for the chance to prove my professionalism and my creativity. I don't want to just meet this deadline...I want to beat it (as the awesome Tawny always tells me *g*)

And I will meet/beat it by sitting at this keyboard each day and writing my best story--one page at a time :-)

Yep, I wanted this bunch of bananas, but unlike this poor little guy, I'm not going to let my wishes squash me ;-)

What about you? Have you ever wished and wished for something only to get it and suddenly decide you didn't want it? Or maybe it wasn't as great as you thought it'd be? What did you do?

And be sure to check back this Sunday to take part in our Easter Peep Hunt! There'll be plenty of fun and prizes for everyone so don't miss it!

ps - no monkeys (real or stuffed) were injured in the making of this blog.

Chasing Dreams

by Donna MacMeans

I don't watch a lot of television, but I do like the early shows of American Idol. Thanks to the snow and ice that canceled my aerobic class last night, I was able to see the first reduction of the show's final twenty-four contestants. Did you watch it?

I identify with this show. Not that I can sing. (Okay so the photo is a fish - but that's the general reaction to my singing.) But for many years, I was an older version of those young hopefuls, chasing the dream of seeing my work in print. I'd enter a contest, wait and wait to learn that I was a finalist, and then hope and pray that my writing was good enough to win. Often it wasn't and someone else won the honor.

However, nothing ever happened to me like what happened Thursday night. Here's the deal:

The contestants, all young and all talented, performed a solo over two nights of shows. Some of the performances were absolutely amazing. Some were lackluster. After the performances, fans were invited to vote via telephone for their favorites and based on the tabulation, two men and two women were dismissed from the show.

Now we know all this from the get-go. Much like the writing contests, the finalists will slowly be weeded down to an ultimate winner. Honestly, this doesn't bother me as the contestants know a lot is riding on their performance and this contest gives them a shot they wouldn't ordinarily receive.

However, Thursday night, the moderator turned to judge Simon Cowell and asked if he had any advice for one of the departing male contestants. Cowell's advice: "go get a job and make music your hobby because you'll never make it in this industry."

OUCH! I think everyone was in shock for a few minutes.

Now I must admit the music industry is a hard road to fame. I think only one or two of the past winners of American Idol went on to release hits. This kid's one performance was lackluster compared to the others - not bad - just not as good.

So did he deserve to have his dreams trounced upon in such a public forum? Was Simon doing him a favor and sparing him future heartache? Could Simon's criticism actually spur the young singer to try harder and smarter? Has anyone ever trounced on your dreams either accidentally or in the vein of "doing you a favor"? How did you react?

I'll pick someone from the posted comments to receive a copy of The Education of Mrs. Brimley and - as Mardi Gras as recently passed - a sequined Mardi Gras bandit mask.

Don't forget our own Trish is embroiled in an American Idol like contest of her own. The American Title contest is down to two finalists and Trish is one of them. Anyone can vote for a winner and it won't even cost you a phone call. Click on the Vote Trish button in the scroll and help her reach the limelight.