I haven't been writing much at all lately, but I do have an update. My younger daughter is just about to finish fourth grade. Bear with me here. Her teacher spends time reading aloud from books during the year, mostly on Thursdays but occasionally at other times when there's a spare moment.
Earlier this year after the teacher had finished reading whatever story they were going through, my daughter asked the teacher if she would read "my dad's book" to the class. My daughter has a copy I gave her and she keeps it in her backpack.
The teacher agreed, but only if she had my permission. I was surprised to find out, and nervous, but also very curious about what my target demo would think so of course I said "Yes!"
Fast forward to two weeks ago when I went to the school to pick up my kids. Several fourth graders approached me and started asking all kinds of questions about my book! They wanted to know if I would draw a picture of a statue mentioned in there, or if I could tell them what was going to happen next. Apparently my daughter flat out refuses to "spoil" her classmates.
And now with just one week of school left, they're on the final chapter. There's a chance they won't finish the book so I pointed the teacher to the free .pdf download at lulu.com so she could tell the kids' parents where to find it if they're interested.
I have to admit that this has started to rejuvenate my interest in writing again, after a good long 6 months of apathy. One of the interesting things about this whole story is that the teacher told me that every kid in the class voted to keep reading my book and they have all expressed interest on their own without being prompted. I'm sure my press agent, er, I mean daughter, has something to do with that but I also like to believe that the kids are really enjoying the characters and plot and setting. Also, hearing that the kids actually laughed at the parts I intended to be funny led to a sigh of relief.
And that's especially fun for me because an editor I hired to read that book told me that I should "spend more time around kids, maybe volunteer to be a big brother" thinking that I was not relating to my target audience.
But I think this is a little validation, and who doesn't like a little validation?
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Softball, Part 2
Over the last 5 months, I've spent an incredible amount of time with my daughter, mostly just the two of us. We play catch for hours, lazily chatting away. We drive to games and practices, arrive early, stay late, all the while making me the happiest father on the planet as I absorb and savor every last moment.
You see, I know the end is coming.
My older daughter is only 11, but I know the time will come -- swiftly -- where she won't have the time to spend with me.
But for now, we're learning about life via softball. Now, don't get me wrong. We play in a recreational league and we don't have our hopes pinned on an athletic scholarship or anything, but she loves playing and I would love just about anything that keeps us close like this.
As the season progressed, the A pitcher ended up missing a total of 4 games which mean that my daughter (B pitcher) had to pitch four complete games along with some fill-in innings in the rest of the games.
In every game, she faced some girls two years older than her and as much as 18 inches taller. She stood in there and pitched against them all. She gave up hits, hit batters, walked in runs. But she kept trying and kept practicing.
"Ok, just one more strike, then we'll go inside," she would often say as she pitched on the sidewalk in front of our house with me playing catcher. And I'd smile and forget about dinner for a while longer as the sun set and forced me to squint to find the ball in the dim light.
But in our modern society with our upward mobility and tiger moms, it's tempting to focus on the results. And her team lost every game she pitched. (They also lost all but one game the entire season...)
In the last game she pitched, we had an umpire that really seemed to get that this was a league where learning was as important as winning. He walked out to the pitcher's circle in the first inning and explained to my daughter why he had called the last pitch a ball, and how she had to "present" the ball/etc. prior to pitching -- just some basic rules she had to follow.
I saw a look of determination on her face as she got ready to pitch to the next batter. She threw the fastest pitch I'd seen her pitch all year, and it was a strike. She built on that success and struck out two batters. She managed to get out of the inning only giving up two runs. Then she went right back out there and did it again. In fact, in one inning she struck out three batters, one on a "change up," but still gave up 3 runs (dropped third strike rule...).
She never once blamed the catcher for dropping those third strikes. She didn't blame the umpire for calling some close pitches against her. She didn't give up when she got called out on strikes twice at the plate. She cheered on her teammates win or lose, even if they couldn't really hear her tiny voice.
Yes, they lost that last unremarkable and unimportant game by two runs, but she had her best game yet. We got into the car and she immediately started to make plans for more pitching lessons, more time outside on the sidewalk and in the yard, working on hitting and bunting. I smiled all the way home.
You see, I know the end is coming.
My older daughter is only 11, but I know the time will come -- swiftly -- where she won't have the time to spend with me.
But for now, we're learning about life via softball. Now, don't get me wrong. We play in a recreational league and we don't have our hopes pinned on an athletic scholarship or anything, but she loves playing and I would love just about anything that keeps us close like this.
As the season progressed, the A pitcher ended up missing a total of 4 games which mean that my daughter (B pitcher) had to pitch four complete games along with some fill-in innings in the rest of the games.
In every game, she faced some girls two years older than her and as much as 18 inches taller. She stood in there and pitched against them all. She gave up hits, hit batters, walked in runs. But she kept trying and kept practicing.
"Ok, just one more strike, then we'll go inside," she would often say as she pitched on the sidewalk in front of our house with me playing catcher. And I'd smile and forget about dinner for a while longer as the sun set and forced me to squint to find the ball in the dim light.
But in our modern society with our upward mobility and tiger moms, it's tempting to focus on the results. And her team lost every game she pitched. (They also lost all but one game the entire season...)
In the last game she pitched, we had an umpire that really seemed to get that this was a league where learning was as important as winning. He walked out to the pitcher's circle in the first inning and explained to my daughter why he had called the last pitch a ball, and how she had to "present" the ball/etc. prior to pitching -- just some basic rules she had to follow.
I saw a look of determination on her face as she got ready to pitch to the next batter. She threw the fastest pitch I'd seen her pitch all year, and it was a strike. She built on that success and struck out two batters. She managed to get out of the inning only giving up two runs. Then she went right back out there and did it again. In fact, in one inning she struck out three batters, one on a "change up," but still gave up 3 runs (dropped third strike rule...).
She never once blamed the catcher for dropping those third strikes. She didn't blame the umpire for calling some close pitches against her. She didn't give up when she got called out on strikes twice at the plate. She cheered on her teammates win or lose, even if they couldn't really hear her tiny voice.
Yes, they lost that last unremarkable and unimportant game by two runs, but she had her best game yet. We got into the car and she immediately started to make plans for more pitching lessons, more time outside on the sidewalk and in the yard, working on hitting and bunting. I smiled all the way home.
Monday, March 14, 2011
On Guts
My 11 year old daughter has more guts than I did at that age.
She's learning how to fast-pitch softball (taking lessons for the last 3 months) and is in the local girls softball league. She loves pitching but she's much smaller than most of the other pitchers, as much as 18 to 20 inches shorter! She's the second youngest girl on the team, and there's more than 18 months age difference between her and the oldest kids in the division!
Anyway, my daughter is the designated backup pitcher for our team. The first game was this weekend and the main pitcher for her team was traveling on vacation so it fell to my daughter to pitch the whole game. This was her first live game pitching with the 12 inch ball and from the 40 foot rubber.
She was very nervous.
She gave up just 3 runs in her first inning and even managed to strike out the side. Then the second inning came and she got only one out before the other team reached the per-inning run limit. Same thing happened in the third inning. There were some groans from the parents, but mostly on the really close pitches. I checked on her there in the third inning because I could tell she was having problems. When I talked to her I was prepared for her to ask to come out of the game (which would have meant we'd have to put in someone who had never pitched before...) but she surprised me by saying that she knew what she was doing wrong with her motion. She wanted to stick it out. She wanted to finish the game because she still liked pitching even after giving up 6 straight walks.
In the mean time, offensively, the team was a real mess. The opposing pitcher was a foot taller than my daughter and had been pitching for years and she can throw about 10 miles an hour faster than my daughter. She was blowing through our batters, making them look like statues as the ball zipped past for strike after strike.
In the bottom of the third inning, after some errors, a LOT of walks, and some sagging shoulders, we told the kids that the runs just scored against them weren't important. That we just needed to have some fun and do our jobs and use our heads. We needed to score our first run of the season and then build on that.
Our first batter, the only girl on the team younger than my daughter, worked a walk and then my daughter came up to bat. She had zero hits all of last season. She always jumps out of the batter's box, even on strikes. She's just too timid. But not this time. On the first pitch, from the pitcher who had struck out our best hitters in three pitches, she swung the bat, made contact and reached first base safely. Her first hit in over a season! I was very proud of her. Not because she got the first RBI of the season. Not because she went on to steal a base and make two perfect slides. And not because she went out in the 4th inning and held the team under the run limit.
No.
I was, am, so proud of her because she didn't quit. She didn't give up when it would have been just so easy. No one expected her to be successful. No one expected her to swing the bat or get a hit or steal third with a beautiful slide.
She gutted it out. Gutted out the 18 runs she gave up. Gutted out the impatience of the infield, the throwing errors she and her teammates made. She gutted it out, end to end, and earned some respect. Not bad for a super shy 11 year old.
Looks like she'll be the sole pitcher again in a month or so. We better get practicing!
She's learning how to fast-pitch softball (taking lessons for the last 3 months) and is in the local girls softball league. She loves pitching but she's much smaller than most of the other pitchers, as much as 18 to 20 inches shorter! She's the second youngest girl on the team, and there's more than 18 months age difference between her and the oldest kids in the division!
Anyway, my daughter is the designated backup pitcher for our team. The first game was this weekend and the main pitcher for her team was traveling on vacation so it fell to my daughter to pitch the whole game. This was her first live game pitching with the 12 inch ball and from the 40 foot rubber.
She was very nervous.
She gave up just 3 runs in her first inning and even managed to strike out the side. Then the second inning came and she got only one out before the other team reached the per-inning run limit. Same thing happened in the third inning. There were some groans from the parents, but mostly on the really close pitches. I checked on her there in the third inning because I could tell she was having problems. When I talked to her I was prepared for her to ask to come out of the game (which would have meant we'd have to put in someone who had never pitched before...) but she surprised me by saying that she knew what she was doing wrong with her motion. She wanted to stick it out. She wanted to finish the game because she still liked pitching even after giving up 6 straight walks.
In the mean time, offensively, the team was a real mess. The opposing pitcher was a foot taller than my daughter and had been pitching for years and she can throw about 10 miles an hour faster than my daughter. She was blowing through our batters, making them look like statues as the ball zipped past for strike after strike.
In the bottom of the third inning, after some errors, a LOT of walks, and some sagging shoulders, we told the kids that the runs just scored against them weren't important. That we just needed to have some fun and do our jobs and use our heads. We needed to score our first run of the season and then build on that.
Our first batter, the only girl on the team younger than my daughter, worked a walk and then my daughter came up to bat. She had zero hits all of last season. She always jumps out of the batter's box, even on strikes. She's just too timid. But not this time. On the first pitch, from the pitcher who had struck out our best hitters in three pitches, she swung the bat, made contact and reached first base safely. Her first hit in over a season! I was very proud of her. Not because she got the first RBI of the season. Not because she went on to steal a base and make two perfect slides. And not because she went out in the 4th inning and held the team under the run limit.
No.
I was, am, so proud of her because she didn't quit. She didn't give up when it would have been just so easy. No one expected her to be successful. No one expected her to swing the bat or get a hit or steal third with a beautiful slide.
She gutted it out. Gutted out the 18 runs she gave up. Gutted out the impatience of the infield, the throwing errors she and her teammates made. She gutted it out, end to end, and earned some respect. Not bad for a super shy 11 year old.
Looks like she'll be the sole pitcher again in a month or so. We better get practicing!
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
The Cringes
Today I found myself cringing again. I can't help it. Every time I look at my "to do" list, I see that one item that makes me cringe. That item that causes me to shy away and look for other things to do.
"Finish Jute 3"
Three oh-so innocent words. Heck, that's really just two words and a number. Eleven characters and two spaces. Weak.
And yet I can't even think about them without feeling uncomfortable. It's the kind of uncomfortable that I feel when I'm in an awkward situation.
I wonder if that's because I am 99% of the way through writing the last book in the series. I wonder if maybe I'm reluctant to part with it after three years. More likely, it's that I know that the final 1 percent represents a ton of hard work and plot hole fixing and loose end tying. When I wrote the first draft for book three, I knew there would be one difficult part to write, and I kept putting it off and putting it off.
Finally, I got to the end and there was this hole just sitting there, staring back at me.
Darn hole.
My daughter has declared that if I won't finish the book, she will. And I'm close to taking her up on it. I mean, at least she's willing to try. I can't even open the word processor for fear I'll have to type something.
"Finish Jute 3"
Three oh-so innocent words. Heck, that's really just two words and a number. Eleven characters and two spaces. Weak.
And yet I can't even think about them without feeling uncomfortable. It's the kind of uncomfortable that I feel when I'm in an awkward situation.
I wonder if that's because I am 99% of the way through writing the last book in the series. I wonder if maybe I'm reluctant to part with it after three years. More likely, it's that I know that the final 1 percent represents a ton of hard work and plot hole fixing and loose end tying. When I wrote the first draft for book three, I knew there would be one difficult part to write, and I kept putting it off and putting it off.
Finally, I got to the end and there was this hole just sitting there, staring back at me.
Darn hole.
My daughter has declared that if I won't finish the book, she will. And I'm close to taking her up on it. I mean, at least she's willing to try. I can't even open the word processor for fear I'll have to type something.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Of New Beginnings
So far, the new year has brought more than its fair share of newness. Nothing major, of course, but a host of changes and new experiences have been lining up since early January.
My best friend moved away (again!). I'm going to coach my daughter's softball team. I have some new team mates at work. Out of the blue, my older daughter -- the shyest of the shy! -- auditioned for the school play and will be up there on a stage singing and dancing. My younger daughter seems to have suddenly turned a corner and matured about 3 years over night.
With so much new and changing around me, I would typically expect to be feeling uneasy and uncomfortable. But that's really not the case at the moment. I'm happy. I'm encouraged and excited and filled with an eager anticipation.
There are some larger changes on the horizon, though. Things hurtling toward me that I won't be able to avoid, even if I want to. Of course, we'll tackle those as they come, enjoying the good and dealing with the less so.
This is all reflected in simple things like our garden. The chickens are laying again, the sun's been out for weeks, the winter garden never stopped, but now we'll have to make room for the new stuff we're about to plant.
So here's to the year of new!
My best friend moved away (again!). I'm going to coach my daughter's softball team. I have some new team mates at work. Out of the blue, my older daughter -- the shyest of the shy! -- auditioned for the school play and will be up there on a stage singing and dancing. My younger daughter seems to have suddenly turned a corner and matured about 3 years over night.
With so much new and changing around me, I would typically expect to be feeling uneasy and uncomfortable. But that's really not the case at the moment. I'm happy. I'm encouraged and excited and filled with an eager anticipation.
There are some larger changes on the horizon, though. Things hurtling toward me that I won't be able to avoid, even if I want to. Of course, we'll tackle those as they come, enjoying the good and dealing with the less so.
This is all reflected in simple things like our garden. The chickens are laying again, the sun's been out for weeks, the winter garden never stopped, but now we'll have to make room for the new stuff we're about to plant.
So here's to the year of new!
Monday, January 31, 2011
Chickens Back Online
No, we didn't put wifi in the coop, but all three hens are back to laying. The alpha hen, Mohawk, was the first to start back laying after the winter molt. Cheepers finally came back on line on Sunday, ending a 3+ month drought!
Mohawk laid two soft-shelled eggs in January and so we're still keeping an eye on her just in case. But she's as hungry and "Mohawkish" as ever so that's good.
We're still feeding them lots of leftovers from the fall garden and they go nuts for the chard and spinach.
Next up is to finally get around to adding a pop door to the run so that we can let them out into the yard without having to open the main run door and leave it open all day. We'll have to be sure to make the new door very secure as we don't want to add any weak links in the security.
Mohawk laid two soft-shelled eggs in January and so we're still keeping an eye on her just in case. But she's as hungry and "Mohawkish" as ever so that's good.
We're still feeding them lots of leftovers from the fall garden and they go nuts for the chard and spinach.
Next up is to finally get around to adding a pop door to the run so that we can let them out into the yard without having to open the main run door and leave it open all day. We'll have to be sure to make the new door very secure as we don't want to add any weak links in the security.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Rainy Day Photo
Alas, it was a trap. Today was cold and rainy. I stepped outside during a break in the weather and took this photo.
Should be nice weather again later in the week, though.
Should be nice weather again later in the week, though.
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