Author Archives: olivia

At Least I’m Good At Cheering Myself Up…

Today a student brought me a note. At first, I barely looked at it, distracted in my attempt to convince the class that listening to the sounds of the ocean while writing is beneficial. Most of my students have never been to the beach, so when our peaceful CD started playing and they looked at me funny, I told them to imagine they were writing in front of the sea. Again, strange looks, until I said I was imagining myself there right then, the sun shining, the waves crashing, with a big old smile on my face. That time, they smiled back and nodded, finally getting the picture.

Then, I remembered to look at the note and realized it was a list of all the things the student likes about me, (much more interesting than the complaints I was expecting to read). See, when she was really upset with me last week, an administrator asked her to make this list. She wasn’t asked to share, so I forgot about it, but today she unexpectedly gave it to me anyway.

My favorite entry:

Mrs. M is good at cheering herself up. 

An astute observation, particularly as I sat there using the ocean to indeed cheer myself up, soaking in a few moments of artificially-created tranquility.

This was followed by:

Mrs. M is good at cheering the class up.

So, as easily as I sometimes fall into a funk, at least I’m good at cheering myself (and others) back up. This is probably the best compliment I’ve received in a long time. Thank you dear, bright, sometimes-angry-but-still-forgiving child.

I leave you with 22 crudely-shot seconds of the glorious Oregon Coast in Bandon from this summer. Maybe it will cheer you up too in its quiet simplicity.

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Thankfulness Thursdays: Inaugural Post

Going back to school following summer break has been an exercise in positivity. Imagine seven glorious weeks where your entire life is in your control. Write whenever you want, do yoga whenever you want, visit friends and family whenever you want… Okay, maybe that is my vision of freedom, not yours, but you get the idea.

Then, suddenly, your life belongs to thirty (deserving) children once again. It’s like the ultimate post-vacation hangover, because you aren’t just lamenting a week or two passing, you’re letting go of what has become a habit-forming, newly-adapted lifestyle. You get a really good taste of freedom and then it’s gone, and when I say gone, I mean welcome to one of the most draining, time-consuming-yet-equal-parts-rewarding jobs on the planet.

But, this is the real life of a writer and human being, bills need to be paid, and other passions need to be fed, which in my case, means teaching children, at least for the time being. Eight weeks into my return to the classroom, I find it hard to believe an entire “summer” has passed since my cherished seven weeks ended. Overall, I have adjusted and am finally getting back into my groove, but I still miss the freedom.

Accordingly, when I saw another blogger generously share her idea (and image!) for Thankfulness Thursdays leading up to Thanksgiving, I had to jump in. I know gratitude is one of the healthiest fixes for the soul, or at least for mine. Accordingly, a quick list of this week’s gratitude highlights:

1. Monday, Career Day for spirit week, a little girl comes in dressed in jeans and a cardigan. “So, what career are you modeling?” I ask, skeptical she might be taking advantage of the day to wear whatever she wants, instead of her regular uniform. “I’M YOU! You always wear these sweaters!” she exclaims, tugging the sleeve of her sweet, little teal cardigan, very proud of herself. Talk about heart melted! (And, yes, I may have a cardigan obsession.)

2. Unwired Wednesday. After a state of near tech burnout Tuesday night, I decided Wednesday would be computer-free afterwork. 5PM, I shutdown my laptop and did not look back– a glorious return to hot yoga after two weeks of finding excuses, delicious dinner with the husband, and the second episode of Downton Abbey’s newest season. A-M-A-Z-I-N-G how the simplest evening can feel so good. Thinking Unwired Wednesdays might become a tradition.

3. Today marks four working days until my week-and-a-half fall break. Looking forward to sending out my query letters, celebrating my three-year wedding anniversary in wine country, attending Hardly Strictly Bluegrass with my much-missed Bay Area friends, and spending time with my mom in Mt. Shasta. As much as teaching can wear me down, I am also incredibly grateful it fluctuates between busy and freedom. Going back to a life with only 3 weeks off a year seems unthinkable, (unless, of course, I’m writing novels…).

So, what are you most grateful for today? Feel free to jump on the Thankfulness Thursday bandwagon and borrow Ashley’s lovely graphics.

Above all, here’s to being healthy and alive!

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For All the Lives We Almost Lived…

“I am grateful for this life! And yet I miss the alternatives. All sketches wish to be real… We do not actually know it, but we sense it: our life has a sister vessel which plies an entirely different route.” -Tomas Tranströmer, The Blue House

Although I do not regret the life I choose in the least, I like this idea, that our destiny is not fated, that there are many lives we could live, that our choices steer our course… Now, if only there was time to explore all these lives we dream of, instead of having to pick just one… Maybe that is what writing is to me.

Be warned, only click the link below if you’re in a mood for a little melodrama:

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Dirty, Dirty Politics

One of my fifth graders is getting a life lesson early. This week is student council elections and her posters are being ripped in half in the hallway, sprayed with water, destroyed. To top it all off, she’s also being called nasty names. When I first discovered this, I wanted desperately to protect her. I wanted to make it stop, (and, I feel I have done everything in my power to do so).

Nonetheless, as I walked to my car this afternoon, it occurred to me that if nothing else, she is learning something about life that is all too true– politics are dirty, even at age 10.

Someone really wants to win. Still trying to figure out who our own Tracy Flick is…

Cue the scene where the posters are torn from the wall.

Perfect timing as our own, “adult” presidential election heats up. If only the grown-ups would lead by example.

 

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Putting on a Suit to Mean Business

Let me introduce you to the old me. I used to put on suits to accompany my boss to board meetings with important people at banks in downtown San Francisco. I dreaded suit days. Lugging an oversized projector bag in three inch heels from one end of the Bay to the other was not my idea of a good time. Then, of course, there were all the times I donned my suits for job interviews… Let’s just say I’m pleased teaching does not often call for a suit. Today was one of those rare occasions and it felt surprisingly good, surprisingly meaningful.

Day One of Spirit Week: Career Attire

When I heard the all-call for career attire, I considered dressing up for something outside the box, but then I thought about what my students need to see. I decided they needed to see a woman in a suit. Not that they don’t see this from my lovely principal and other administrators, but I felt they needed to see it from me so we could have a discussion about why I used to wear a suit and what it should look like to go to a job interview, (as well as other pertinent scenarios like the reality that heads of businesses and future presidents all wear suits).

Student questions included:

“Is it better to wear heels or flats to an interview?”

“How tall were the buildings you used to go to for meetings?”

“What would happen if you made a mistake in your presentation, would you get fired?”

That one made me laugh, a lot. The first presentation I ever created for the heads of a bank included a mistake where I accidentally left out half of the data analysis. No, I was not fired. Yes, I was embarrassed.

The funny thing in my decision to wear a suit today is that if I were teaching at the private school where I used to sub, I would probably tell the students about the merits of being a teacher or a writer or some other passionate endeavor that contradicts the push to pick a career based on financial security. However, with these kids, my kids, I give them that version of reality everyday when I teach writing, when I talk about why I became a teacher, when I encourage them to follow their dreams.

Today, I wanted to show them another version of myself, one that still exists dormant beneath the surface. I wanted to show them that a woman can put on a suit and mean business.

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Sunday Scatterbrain: Networking & Writing

This week has been an interesting exercise in connection making. Where I have not succeeded in getting my book out the door, I have widened my social circle to include more writers and bloggers. First, I reconnected with a childhood friend who quit his job as a lawyer to restructure his time to better allow himself to write fiction. Now he works in tech from home and writes nonstop. Talking shop with him was one of the highlights of my week– so nice to connect with another writer.

Then, last night at a work party, I talked with a writer who is working to publish his memoir about investigative journalism. His take on the publishing world and the advantages of self-publishing were very interesting. I left the conversation feeling encouraged to find a writing group to push myself to the next level.

On top of this, I boosted my online networking efforts to prepare for those pesky query letters. I reached back out to my personal Facebook community to bump up my author page likes, and then, thanks to a fellow blogger on WordPress, I discovered Sacramento Bloggers. Major score! Turns out there are a lot of women with similar interests blogging in the area. Not only has this bumped up my Facebook likes a little further, but I’m also very excited to follow their blogs and make some more connections.

Remember my little attempt at a girls’ blogging club this summer? Sacramento Bloggers has me beat. Very excited to participate!

The only downside, all of this networking stuff has eaten up some of my precious writing time for the week, leaving me feeling a bit scatterbrained as I attempt to focus. So, time to revisit the dreaded action list:

1. Enter remaining changes for last few chapters from my lovely proof-reader.

2. Get my rough query letter ready for individual agents. Submit to all 31 on my list. This was meant to be my July activity, but now it looks like my October fun. Thankfully my fall break is coming up, so hoping to get this done sometime between October 4-14.

3. Pick what’s next! I want to give myself a few weeks for this, so my goal is to be ready to join the Nanowrimo crew by 11/1 with my next story idea. I have a few in the works, just need to pick. More on that to come, I’m sure. This time, instead of trying to get 50k words out by 11/30, my goal is just to write well, with focus, for the entire month and see what happens.

Now all I need to do is stop multi-tasking and focus…

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Dream Big or Go Home

Every fall, the organization I work for holds a region-wide professional development day. With roots in Silicon Valley and tech start-ups, my charter school group is forward thinking, technology-driven, and business minded. Last year’s theme was the importance of reframing failure as a welcomed opportunity for improvement.

This year, the theme was BHAGs, Big Hairy Audacious Goals. The idea, you have to dream bigger than you can imagine in order to succeed beyond your wildest dreams. You have to think decades, not just years. Then, you have to create an actionable plan to bring these goals to fruition. The more seemingly outlandish, the better.

While I applaud my charter organization for having BHAGs, I decided I needed to also have my own big hairy audacious goals. Usually, I think just one year at a time, maybe five at the most, stretching for what is within reach. Instead, this evening, I pushed myself to imagine the kind of over-the-top success I usually only let linger in my brain for a few minutes before settling on smaller, more seemingly attainable goals.

So, here you go. My BHAGs.

1. Be an internationally published author with readers around the world. I am currently living vicariously through Eowyn Ivey, author of the Snow Child, on her trip around the world to market her book and visit her foreign publishers. To achieve this BHAG, I need to write, write, write, and write some more.

2. At first I wanted to have a blog following of 1,000, but that seemed minuscule in the shadow of a big hairy audacious goal. Instead, I want to establish a following of 10,000. Why not? The more readers of my blog, the more potential readers of my books, and the more likely I can sustain myself as a writer. 10,000 definitely feels big and hairy. Again, I need to write, write, write, and put myself out there.

3. Live or have a vacation property overlooking the ocean. It’s easy to say you want wealth or any number of things that come with it, but I think specificity is important to achieving goals. I want to wake up to the ocean, write with the sound of the waves, do yoga on the beach until I’m a little old lady who can’t do yoga anymore, (aka dead). Again, sounds like I need to write, write, write, because teaching certainly isn’t going to buy that dream.

To write by the sea is the life for me.

My dream.

As writers, I think we’re often discouraged from dreaming big because most of us will never get there. However, as long as your happiness doesn’t depend solely on whether or not you achieve your goals, I disagree with all the disillusioned souls who say it’s too hard, too unlikely. As long as someone out there is doing it, it’s possible. Might as well be me, or you, or better yet, both of us.

Reminds me of my beloved Marianne Williamson quote, “Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we’re liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

So shine on and be free with me.

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Getting There on My Own Time

I’m not the fastest thinker in the world. I need time to cook my thoughts, even if sometimes it takes weeks, or months, or years to find my answers. There is no hurrying the process.

Writing my pitch for my query letter has been like this. I chip away, a little at a time, gradually creating a more coherent, enticing product. Now and then, I impatiently check the oven to see if it is done. Still not there, but a little closer, maybe edible even. Small victories and trust that if I continue to follow the steps in the recipe, it will be ready soon enough.

For you seasoned query writers, a question: Do you write the synopsis before sending out your queries or wait to receive a request for one? Yes, that’s the impatient part of me asking. I fully expect the answer I don’t want to hear, but that’s okay, maybe I need it for motivation.

This week’s extracurricular activity: Query writing, oh the fun!

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Playing Possum

Let me tell you a little story about the wonderful wild kingdom that is my backyard in Sacramento, California.

Last night, we arrived home after dark, my dog Simon shooting straight through the back door to bark at something in the yard. Given the after dark status, we immediately started calling, “Treat, treat,” his usual cue back into the house. No luck.

Oh no, I thought, please, please don’t be another skunk. See, he always comes for a treat, unless there is something better than a treat to chase in the backyard.

Thankfully, my husband was on call to go after him, returning moments later with an unusual claim.

“Luna killed a possum.”

No way, I thought, our cat is not tough enough to kill a possum.

“Okay, better get out that man card and get to work,” I replied. Selective sexism at its best. I refuse to touch dead or half dead animals, much to Alex’s chagrin.

Moments later, Alex returns.

“Hey, umm, have you ever heard of that expression ‘playing possum’?”

“No.”

My husband then explained to me that possums are known for playing dead. Sure, I thought, wishful thinking, you just don’t want to shovel such a big, nasty creature into the trash.

“Give it some time, I guess,” I replied, doubtful.

Now curious, I peered out the back window, flashlight in hand, hopeful not to see some sort of disgusting dead possum or, worse, two creepy little eyes staring back at me. Alex did warn me its eyes were stuck open.

Instead, nothing.

The possum was gone. Apparently, playing possum is a real thing, not just something my husband made up as not to have to dispose of another carcass brought to our doorstep by Luna. Good thing Alex didn’t try to lift the poor creature into the trash. That would have been a very unpleasant surprise…

Moral of the story, if you see a lifeless possum, give it some time. Like at least fifteen to twenty minutes. You may not have to deal with it after all.

Was pretty sure this ferocious beast was not responsible for a possum death…

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Calling All Emerging Writers!

Umm, yes, please!  Free SF Writers Conference admission ($625), count me in.  And, you too. If you’re an “emerging writer” check out the scholarship submission details. Since it’s a shot in the dark, I don’t mind sharing the love. If you win, you owe me a firsthand account of the whole experience.

Here’s my “Why I Write” blurb I just spit out. One of my major rules for entering this kind of thing is to dive in head first, not overthink it, and see what happens…

Why I Write

I write because there are words inside me trying to get out. If I do not write them down, they swirl around my head, a chaotic mess. I write because each word that touches paper, or the pixels of a computer screen, lightens the weight I carry, letting me sleep at night. By letting my words out, I think more clearly, I connect more easily with the world around me. Writing is the home that roots me in the world outside my head.

I write in journals, notebooks, Word, Pages, WordPress, emails, text messages. When I do not write, I have the jitters of a sedentary athlete. I cannot think straight, my brain taps anxiously. Writing is a daily part of my existence. Sometimes, a day sneaks by too busy or too tired for my words. Those days feel off, terrible, somehow wasted.

Inexplicably, I went years without really writing.

As a child, I wrote all the time, half-finished stories read to friends and family, left abandoned in little piles of paper in all my drawers and special boxes decorated with ribbons and glitter. As a teenager, I wrote poetry, angst-ridden heaps of words about love and life traced in spiraling mazes around the edges of book covers. In college, I wrote passionately about human rights, true tales of torture, human trafficking, sweat shops, international relations.

Then, I graduated to write nothing, or at least what felt like nothing.

Years went by where all I wrote were the economic analysis reports required of my job. Ten plus pages a day left no room for creative writing, save for the occasional journal entry about homeless people in Berkeley or a string of words to inspire me later. Finally, came the year on the train, commuting from Sacramento to Berkeley, when boredom drove me to write again. Another half-finished story, a passing hobby for the train alone.  Those years left dark and jumbled spaces in my brain.

Finally, a shift in jobs, an inspiring book, the birth of a blog, and Nanowrimo all converged to motivate me to write again. I have not looked back. Words pour out daily, my therapy in a world that often makes my head hurt.  I write to cope, to live, to process, to escape, and most importantly, to dream. My words give me a space where life can be anything, where I can crawl away and live inside my head.  Perhaps most importantly, my words give me hope for a future where I write to live, not just live to write.

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My Charter School: I Hope Good Triumphs

Last night I attended a school board meeting, not for my school, but for the district in which my school resides. I teach at a charter school. We have no district, other than our charter organization, which is consistently rated one of the best in the state, with 12,000 students from LA to Sacramento. However, unions don’t like us. We take students from district schools, schools that are often struggling to meet student needs. We take them and we teach them, successfully.

Still, it does not matter if my school is successful. What matters is that we take students from districts with unions with lobbyists that despise us because we also take away money. Our charter needs to be renewed, either by this district or the state. People are fighting against us, because of money, because of politics. There is a divide between public and charter schools, maybe rightfully so. Charters are a quick fix, a small band-aid to a system that in many places is not working.

However, this band-aid fixes real students. This week is conference week and I cannot count how many families have told me our school has changed their child, that before they struggled, but now they succeed. I get that a very real debate exists about charters and how they do not fix the system as a whole, how some fail their students, how there is so much inconsistency. But, if a charter works and the schools around it don’t, what kind of world do we live in where the schools that fail stay open and the ones that succeed close?

We’re not there yet, there are still multiple avenues to pursue, and the district has not decided whether to grant us a charter. Even so, listening to their board meeting last night, I could not help but be smacked in the face with the realities of bureaucracy. Members spoke candidly about how we take their students, their money, how they would prefer we just left, even if we’re doing a better job for our kids than the other schools in the neighborhood.  A few spoke up about our success, those few gave me hope that we still have a chance. After all, this is the third board meeting I have attended, the other two at the state level, someone always dislikes us, someone else always disagrees.

Before our portion of the hearing, enraged families stood before the board, upset the district will not allow their children’s epilepsy drugs to be administered by volunteers at the school. Drugs that prevent brain damage, pain, and even death from seizures. Sitting, listening, I could not help but think we live in a bizarre world, where liabilities, unions, and finances stand in the way of life-saving drugs given to children, successful schools automatically approved to stay open.

What struck me most is that our system is slow and cumbersome because of bureaucracy. Panels, boards, committees left to ponder big questions with other interests seeping in. People who do not like successful charter schools must be very patient souls if they are willing to wait for the system to change on its own. They must not know the children and families that I know. They must not see the true depth of good created by this band-aid.

Still, it is too early to say how the board will rule, and maybe I am still young and naive not to see some sort of bigger picture. All I can really say is that I hope good triumphs.

 

 

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The Other Parts of California: Chico Day Trip

Today I visited a part of California I had only been once before, on a field trip with my students to see the local college a couple years ago. Located about two hours northeast of Sacramento, Chico is geographically isolated from other large metropolitan areas and is also off the beaten path from the main freeways.  Known for its party school atmosphere, my bookish self was never that enticed to visit.

However, today I returned to Chico to tour the Sierra Nevada Brewery for a birthday celebration and was reminded that California is full of so many cool, but often overlooked places to visit, Chico included. All too frequently, I’m drawn to the regular standbys, San Francisco, Mendocino, Lake Tahoe, forgetting there are still new places to discover within a radius of a couple hours from where I live.

Chico turned out to be a lot like Davis, where I went to school, a small, charming college town worth a look. To make it even better, it is also home to the Sierra Nevada Brewery.  Free tours take you through the facilities, provide an entertaining history of the company’s success, and offer a beer tasting at the end.

The family-run business values sustainability, is largely run by clean energy sources, and treats its employees very well. However, what I liked best about the tour, is that the brewery’s success grew out of passion. The founder fell in love with the Sierra Nevadas as a young adult, knew he loved to home brew beer, and combined these passions to start the second largest craft brewery in the United States from scratch.

So, there you have it. Another place in California to visit, even if it’s off the beaten path. And, if you never make it to Chico, at least keep your eye out for Sierra Nevada beer in your part of the world. If it’s not there already, my bet is that it will be soon enough.

Happy Sunday and happy birthday Guerren!

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