Catching Up

Finally, I have some time to write. No class this week and no work (except dinner on Thursday). Had a phone interview today for a job as Clinical Editor with Hill-Rom, a medical supply company in Saint Paul. Doesn't sound like an EXCITING job, but it's a foot in the door to a new career. We'll see what happens.

Sent my latest version of "Ruby's Restaurant" to the Writer's Digest short short story competition. Grand Prize is $3000.00. Now that would be sweet.

Probably won't get much, if any, writing done this week. I have so much catching up to do at home with cleaning, paying bills (yuk) and getting ready for a houseful for Thanksgiving.

I'll be back.

No small reason

Just finished the latest feature story for The Pulse. A heart-wrenching and inspirational look at a very young child's will to live after being burned over 91 percent of her body. While her life is a miracle in and of itself, her recovery and optimism are truly amazing. What an honor to write her story.

Next: Come up with a slogan for the Hospital's groundbreaking ceremony this November. Thinking and thinking all the way home from town this afternoon, it finally hit me. "Expansion 2009: We're Diggin' It! I'll present it the committee and keep you posted.

Current Project: Memoir detailing the struggles and joys of raising a grandchild for nine years and the agonizing decision to file for legal custody. Prospectus is finished and the goal is 625 words a week (minimum).

In process: Interview presenters (40 of them) for the Bioneers sustainability conference this October in Minneapolis and write bios for the website and brochures. That should keep me out of trouble for a day or so!

Later,
ERT

Stranger in my Attic

With three pages of my draft finished, I decided to scrap it and start again. My topic was all over the place, beginning with trees, traveling to getting lost at age five, moving to teenage angst and ending up close to where I am now. It didn't flow and the more I wrote the messier it became.

I decided instead, to focus on running away. I called my dad and asked if he had ever run away from home. He giggled and said he had. He was sixteen when he got so mad at his dad for refusing to pay him for planting all the flax on the farm that he took off and went into town to pluck turkeys. He was gone for a week, returning only after threats of a police pick-up were made by his mother. It wasn't her idea, calling the police, but my grandpa had sat her down and told her exactly what to do. I imagine she was envious of my father who found a way and had the guts to get away from the drudgery of life on the farm.

Anyway, Dad and I talked about running away and the different ways people do it. My sister Chris used to run to the bathroom, staying there until she was good and ready to come out. Josh ran away when he was two, although he was just trying to get home from a night at grandma's house. Because the police picked him up however, he was classified as a runaway. My mother was frantic with worry.

Josh became the subject of my newly conceived draft. Josh at thirteen. Josh running away to New Hampshire with Irving Stigalt Baxter. I will always consider it a kidnapping, not a true running away story. That's how it happened from my perspective and that's how it will be told.

Perhaps this one will flow uncluttered from my head to the page and the class will read it without yawning or scratching their heads.

Time again for bed. Where does the day go?

Back to school

First day of my last year as an undergraduate. This semester I'm tackling (not just taking) Advanced Creative Writing and Writing Major Projects. Pretty heavy load. I love a good challenge though, and I am ready to write. It's funny(not literally) how university instructors just don't understand life. I mean, we have to eat and sleep and work, yet they don't give us time to even breathe! My assignment for this week is to read a book. In one week. In addition to writing a five page draft(worked on until I can't possibly get it any better), two 10-minute writing exercises and a prospectus (which requires library research and a well-thought out topic for my book, a chapter-by-chapter synopsis, audience determination, and finely-tuned focus.) Yikes!

A great one to procrastinate, I volunteered to bring my draft to class next Tuesday. Two pages are started. Tomorrow the first draft will be finished. Polishing will happen after that. I don't know when I will do the prospectus, but I will do it.

For me to know, for now

I surrender! For years now, my coworkers have been pestering me to "write a book, write a book." While I've always believed it would be an interesting project - writing about nursing and hospitals from an insider's perspective - it hasn't been a top priority for me.

That was before EPIC (supposedly NOT an acronym). Epic (there is no rule regarding capitalizing this 'term' or not) changed everything. Hailed as the long-overdue modernization of healthcare recordkeeping, Epic would "fix" many of the problems that have frustrated hospital professionals and jeopardized patient safety for years. Problems such as illegible orders, inaccessible data, and poor communication between departments would all be resolved with Epic software. Patient information could be accessed by multiple users at the same time from any computer in the system. Medication errors would decrease, as physicians would enter orders electronically, eliminating the risky business of a nurse or secretary actually having to read their hasty handwriting. Records would be permanent, hospital events would be trackable, and accountability would be inescapable. Bottom line: safer care for patients, less paperwork for caregivers, and most importantly, fewer preventable sentinel events.

Wow, that's amazing! Epic sounds like the ideal solution to every healthcare ailment. Why, then, was there so much cynicism and skepticism among the nurses? We should be cheering and yahooing and patting the management/consultants/committee members/people who know on the back for their brilliant and exhaustively discussed decision to purchase Epic software (the older version) to the tune of "lots of money." We're not really sure how much, but I will find out. So what then, is the problem? Well, the problem is the point here, and should eventually stop all the pestering I've been subjected to.

So, I will write the book. I have decided on a title (sorry, can't share). The preface is partly finished (I lost two paragraphs when my husband called me away from my computer to help him balance his checkbook and when I finished that job, I saw my laptop had overheated (again!) and shut down. I take this as a good sign. No problems, no good. I will tackle the problem so something will get done, or at least something should. Finally.

I'll keep you posted. Time for bed.

Something strange in my freezer

Yes. There is something odd in my freezer today. It's been there for ten minutes now and I'm not touching it until Mike gets home. He will be amazed to see it, as I was. I didn't see it in my freezer, I put it there. To keep it safe. After all, it's not every day you get a chance to see one this big, grab it, and tuck it away in the freezer for those who would never believe you if you told them. Now, I have proof!

Okay, let me back up.

Okay, let me catch up. Before I finished the previous line, the storm hit with a blast. The solitary hailstone in my freezer (the one I was so proud to pluck off the ground before it melted) was sitting there, a timid forewarning of what was to come. It seemed so sizeable at the time. If I only knew.

I can say this day will go down as an historic moment. August 24, 2006, just before noon. We had a hailstorm. Golfball sized chunks. Here and there. Boom! (silence) Boom! Boom! (silence) Biggest hail stones I've ever seen. Ha! I'll grab one and freeze it. Mike will be so amazed when he sees it! (He thinks I exaggerate.) There. Now he will have to believe me. At least about this thing.

A period of calm. Then the room (my office) grew strangely dark and even stranger feeling. Something in the air. I looked out the window and saw the clouds, dark and roiling. Not good. Not good at all. Tornado? Could be coming, could be...What? Hail.

Hail like I've never seen and never will again. Boom! Bang! Bang! Pouring hail. Bombarding hail. Wicked. Saturating the sky. Covering the grass, the driveway, the street. One window broken. Another. Another. Three windows in the car. The roof and siding, ruined.
My little hailstone is dwarfed. There is something strange in my freezer. A bagfull of baseball-sized hailstones. And one little one - mine.