School Bullying

On Wednesday November 7, 2012, I was invited to Ms. Varner's ASP class. I prepared for about two weeks, doing minor interviews with friends, doing research on my own life, and assembling a power point presentation. (Somehow, without being in college anymore, I forgot how much I love power point!)

Ms. Varner in her classroom

While the groundwork for the presentation had been laid, I still wasn't exactly sure what I was going to say to the class, how to really offer them that, Wow, this may have been life changing, moment. Finally, when my time came, I stood in front of the class and said, "My name is Lynne. Was anyone here for my last presentation?" A few hands shot into the air, and I smiled. I was suddenly among friends. "Well, that one focused a bit more on my home life. Today, I'm here to do a presentation on bullying."

Osteo-Biflex, Eeyore, and a chapter
from my memoir. The things
that helped me present :)

I talked a little bit about who I am now; how I take Osteo-Biflex, and how since I was like 13 years old, I've had my Eeyore in my bed, or at least in my room, every night.

From there, I told stories, about boys who'd been bullied and turned into bullies. I talked about my sister being called Buckie-the-beaver before she got braces.

I discussed with the girls what they consider bullying, whether or not they think it differs from the way males do it verses females. One girl raised her hand, and told the class about getting calls on the weekends from girls saying, "We're having so much fun at this sleepover, why aren't you here? Oh, that's right, because we didn't invite you!" She finished with, "I don't understand why they were so mean, I never did anything to them." Most of the class agreed that girls are more calculated when they bully, that they truly intend to hurt people, where-as they feel boys are more physical (shoving, pushing, tripping).

Then, I talked about who I was at their age. How my house was disgusting, how my mother was never home. I asked them if they would have been friends with me, because while I looked clean that day, I was probably a mess at their age.

Closer to the end, I read an except from my memoir, A Walk to the Ocean which had to be slightly censored and more PG appropriate (I will cover my feelings on censorship hopefully Wednesday). The segment was about being bullied in college by my roommates and co-workers, to the point I tried to kill myself. The line I finished on said, "When I got home, my roommates continued to ridicule me that night, and for the remainder of the summer," then I paused to allow them to digest what I'd read. "When you say mean and hurtful things to people, you never know what's going on in their home lives. Take a look around the room," (I had them sitting in a half arc so they could see me and each other), "you don't know what's going on, whether or not people are getting along with their parents, fighting with their siblings. You don't know if they're being hurt at home, or even if their parents are home. I grew up in a flea infested house, where maggots were growing in the back room, and my mother wasn't ever home." I paused again as the girls looked around at each other. Some heads bowed, some faces turned red. "I came to school because it was clean, because it was safe. You don't know what will push someone over the edge."

From there, I wrapped the presentation up, challenging the girls. I told them that this is middle school. I know they're not going to get along with everyone, or even like everyone. But, maybe, they can just say hi to someone they usually wouldn't. Maybe if they see someone sitting alone during lunch, they can sit with them.

After that, I went to go see my manager from UNE, and we chatted politics, and results from the election. When I returned to Claire's she had dinner waiting:

This looks like something out of a restaurant ad, no?

I was still smiling from the presentation. She asked for some follow up questions, and told me some that she would ask the following week.

A day or so later, I got a Facebook message from one of the girls in class. We've had a few exchanges since, but she was one of the girls who attended my last presentation. She thanked me for coming in, and also said, "My response to a question you asked is: I can honestly say I would be friends with you if we were the same age."

And for a time, I'm reminded, that this is what it's all about.

Happy Monday.

Your Work, Out Loud II

Ever since last summer's PNWA conference, I've been itching to find people to read my work out loud to me. Well, last Wednesday, it happened.

Baxter liked her couch...

Claire (you'll remember her from this blog, this blog, and this blog) had me over to her house after my last day at the school. After a round of shopping so I can now feed myself for MONTHS (Thanks again, Claire), and inheriting a dying plant, we drove back to her place....and I managed to get lost, of course :)


She'd printed some pages off so I could mail them out, and I (as always) was insecure about them. While she shuffled around her house (unloading dishes, cleaning, taking care of dinner, etc), I read the first two chapters out loud to her. This is good for me because I always need practice reading out loud, plus, maybe someday I'll get to read at a conference, or book tour, or...a middle school. (Wait, I've done one of those now!!)

When she finished her chores, she sat on her couch, I sat in other one, and she took over reading.

This was from Week 2
Crazy thunderstorm hit, it was safest to stay

Together, we read 34 of the 50 pages. The amazing part? I didn't cringe. At all! There were a few type-os (but instead of put, when instead of then), small things like that, but overall, I was comfortable with the sentences, the repetition here, the pauses there. I loved when she would pause mid-sentence and say, "What a b*tch!" about the horrible aunt, or when she'd ask, "Wait, where did the money come from for the cabs?" or "Why does it seem like Sarah is in love with Mike?". Most of the time, the questions were answered soon, or later. Or, I was at least evoking a feeling in my reader that I was aiming for.

When you have someone read your work out loud, you truly hear how someone other than yourself reads those words. The type-os are easier to find, and you can truly hear if your narrator is coming through the way you want them to.

I still recommend this exercise if you can find someone to read for you. It's a new kind of terrifying.

Influencing The Youth

"Whenever You Knock Me Down, I Will Not Stay On The Ground"
~Justin Bieber (Yea, that's right, totally quoted him)

The Middle School

I was invited to a middle school yesterday to speak on the trials I've been through in my life, and it went in directions I was completely unprepared for. My friend, Claire invited me weeks ago, and two nights ago I finally had some time to more fully prepare for what I was going to say. Claire asked me point blank, "What's the number one thing you hope they remember after you see them?" I responded, "That they can survive anything."

So, I sat there thinking, what are things that keep me going? And I went to work; I removed some pictures from my Board of Inspiration, and added some things I've been meaning to add for awhile. I laid out my clothes the night before (jeans and a TWLOHA shirt after some people gave me suggestions on Twitter), packed my bag full of books I've been published in, and other things that inspire me (like my James Frey book), and went to sleep, giddy, excited, and partially terrified.

In the morning, I woke up, showered (amazingly), attempted to straighten my hair which was immediately destroyed once I walked out in the humidity, loaded up Baxter and drove an hour to Fryeburg. I called both of my sisters on the drive, and they both pushed me, told me that I'd be great, that my (our) message is something worthwhile.

I parked my car, arrived a little early, and looked at the school. It was huge, I didn't know anyone but Claire there. Then Patrick called me from Germany to wish me luck, and tell me I'd do great. The lyric from Vanessa Carlton starting going through my head, "I try to live up to the moment, and hope that I don't blow it," and headed into the school.

Board of Inspiration (It's much more
complete after the presentation)

I found the office, and checked in. There were kids talking about getting sent home for, "smoking dope, but I didn't do it," and for a brief second, I thought maybe, just maybe I am meant to be here. I talked to those kids about my eyebrow rings, my lip ring, and then went up to Claire's room.

We ate lunch (which is awesome, she's such a good cook!), and I wrote a phrase on the white board that I'd heard my entire life growing up, "You'll never amount to anything."

The kids started filtering in, buzzing with excitement which was infectious and terrifying. I was shaking from the moment I'd walked into the school, and now there were several girls sitting in front of me, hoping I'd say something worth while. Suddenly all those moments of overcoming anxiety, and volunteering to read Bingo cards, and practicing were coming into play. This was real life, I was about to talk to real people, who were here to listen to...me.

Claire introduced me as Lynne though she knows me as Stephanie, and I started talking, about my dad, the drunken night he'd lost custody. I talked about what my sisters and I have accomplished. I told them about cutting, my eating disorder, depression, my mother. I read them three pages from Character Defects, that I wrote based on a fight with my mother, and why I wrote it.

And then I told them about having hope, and being positive. I told them about my Board of Inspiration, to set goals, to give themselves something to look forward to. As I spoke, I tried to watch the audience, and there were girls tearing up or silently crying as I talked about what my parents did to me. When it was over, I was asked to go into the hall and speak with some girls in small groups.

Me and Claire (respectively)
Doin' our thing, trying to give
hope

I heard things in those groups that made me want to excuse myself and cry in the bathroom, with them, for them. People talk about censorship a lot in novels because they're afraid of what it'll do to the children. These young women in front of me went and are going through more than I, or you, can possibly imagine. I wanted to find their parents and violently shake them in the hopes that it'd knock some sense into them. I just can't understand how these girls could possibly be unloved, abused, or hurt. All I wanted to do was hug them, tell them that it'll be okay, and that I'm so, so sorry.

They were all so amazing, so honest, and so afraid of what they're going through. All I could do was tell them that it'll get better, that they can get through anything because by breathing, by being at school today, they're proving it.

When it was all said and done, they gave me hugs, thanked me, and asked to take pictures of me like I was someone or something worthwhile. One of the girls even wrote me a letter thanking me for helping her, and I started tearing up (it will end up on my Board soon).

I didn't do much, I just told them about me, and listened to them.

Some time later, I was at Claire's and checked my e-mail and there were already e-mails from some of the girls I didn't get to speak with, and their stories reaffirmed that I'm doing something right by sharing my life with them. I spent close to an hour composing a response to one, and then an hour chatting with one today who is an aspiring author.

The bottom line, is that some people ban books and censor things because they think it's terrible language, or too intense for their young minds to understand. The truth I witnessed yesterday was that these terrible intense things are daily life for a lot of our youth. It needs to change. Their voices need to be heard and understood.

To end this on a bit of a happy note; Claire sent me home some brownies and a lot of food. So I ate brownies for breakfast this morning, yay!

Also, we're planning do to a follow up with the girls soon, any suggestions what I should come back with?

Open Mic Blog Hop!

First and foremost, I'd like to thank Cassie Mae for all of her assistance in the assembly of this blog hop. Without her help and guidance, I would have been completely lost. (Thanks, Cassie!)

If you've been following my blog, you know I'm a wicked anxious person. But as writers we'll all face that moment when we approach the stage, and GASP! read our work out loud. Or, we'll go on a book tour, and be like Eminem and be all, "He's nervous, but on the surface, he looks calm and ready," and address a ton of strangers to impart some wisdom on everyone.

At AWP, they talked about going to coffee shops, and open mic nights and getting our names out there, so...

...Consider this blog hop, a practice run:

Omg, Open Mic Blog Hop!
Yes! Thanks, Baxter, for suggesting it! :)

I've chosen April 19, 2012 because well, it's my birthday and it gives me something to look forward to, and it's not even April 1st yet, so you guys have time to get your game faces on.

What We're Doing:

*Pick a piece. It could be the first chapter of your novel, a short story you really like, a few poems. BUT it has to be yours. 

*Find a camera that takes video

*Video yourself reading your work out loud, to us, your captive audience

Tips:

--I'm personally going to aim for like two-three minutes. Maybe less, because like I said, I'm anxious.  

--If you'd like, you may also post the writing to your blog, so that we can read along with you as you read to us 

--Remember, look up. We'll actually get to see you now!

--If you're nervous, it's okay. I'll be freaking out, too!

--If you'd like, you may edit your video, but umm....my computer is old school, I won't be able to, so you'll get to see me turn my camera on, read, and turn it off. Bax may make a guest appearance since he usually is where I am

--Have fun with it!

For the record, you can upload videos directly to blogger, or if you prefer and have a YouTube channel, you can do it that way. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask! Also, please sign up on the linky at the bottom, and steal the Blog Hop thumbnail thinger for your blog, too!


One More Thing:
If we're able to reach 75 participants, two people (chosen at random, probably by Baxter) will get a five page (written, not read out loud :) ) critique from me. If they'd like, anyway. :)

Practice Makes Perfect (Overcoming Anxiety)

If you're new to the blog, I'm going to direct you to these following posts to gain some background:

*Overcoming Anxiety    *Reading Out Loud      

As you'll see, I have a lot of anxiety. I'm constantly afraid of stepping wrong, saying something stupid, and then when I have an energy drink I all but freak out. (I should maybe consider stopping that, but it just tastes so good!)

New situations terrify me. I hate when I leave a job, because it means I'll have to get a new one, get re-trained, be ignorant for about a week until I get into the flow. I hate it...I like knowing what I'm doing, I like being good at everything I do. Any time I'm out of my element, I'm shaky, it's hard to breathe...and I want Baxter (who I may or may not be trying to train as an anxiety dog).

So just recently, I moved from the Outer Banks of North Carolina, to the mountains of Maine. The move itself was making me anxious: will I have enough money? will we have a place to stay? will Baxter be okay? etc. It was relentless, but I kept pushing through it and kept going. And things worked out:

We got a house:

Yesterday, I had orientation in a room that looks like this:

If you've ever been to a conference, you'll recognize the set up.

So...I walk in eating some oreos. I drink too much coffee and start having a bit of an anxiety attack. The woman running orientation asks for four volunteers, and I find myself walking up. The entire time I was shaking, my heart was pounding so loud, I could barely hear her when she told me to read things out loud, but the bottom line is that it was practice. Maybe someday I'll host a panel, maybe even be in a panel. Maybe someday, I'll get to read my novel to a crowd the way I read stories at an open mic night.

When I finally got to sit down, I tried regaining my breath, but it took some time. But I'm proud of myself. Why? Because I did it. I pushed myself out of my comfort zone for about twenty minutes, in front of a bunch of people I didn't know. It's something I try to work on, pretty frequently.

As writer's we're going to be nervous, all the time. Querying agents, landing editors, getting our books published. And then the book tour, talking to fans, attending conferences...I'm preparing for this, all the time. Are you?

And as of tomorrow, I'm diving into being a snowboarding instructor. It's completely new to me. I don't know anyone, I'm not even sure my knee is ready for it, but this morning, I was able to kneel down for the first time since surgery. It was awesome. Painful, but awesome. It gave me the ray of hope I'd been looking for.

So, I'm going to keep pushing through, keep pushing the boundaries of my comfort zone, all the time. And every once in awhile, I'll stop..

This is the view just down the street from us :)

and be reminded that even with anxiety, this is a really good life :)

Your Work, Out Loud

I've written some blogs about ANXIETY and READING OUT LOUD and OVERCOMING the anxiety that comes with reading my work or sharing my work in any way, shape, or form. Something I haven't covered (because it was something I hadn't experienced yet) is having your work read aloud by someone else.

If you haven't done it. Try it. 

At PNWA they had two panels:
1) Query Letter and Synopsis Bootcamp--Agents and Editors went through and read either your query or your synopsis out loud. It was terrifying. Mind numbingly terrifying. The set up was like that of America's Got Talent, you get the three X's and the reader stops reading.
They read mine, mine was voted against (meaning they didn't even read all of it because it was SO bad), and then from what they read, they tore it apart. Thankfully, this was all anonymous. But hearing what I write and say in my head was an eye opening experience. I scurried up after the panel was over and got my paper, folded it up and hid it. (I reworked it hardcore last night...I was taking notes on everything everyone said.)

Right after this was:
2) First Page Feedback--Agents went through your first page and told you pretty much that they didn't like it. I heard a million people get fed to the wolves, and then they read mine. All the way through. I turned red, tried to hide the fact that what they were reading was mine. But...the longer they read, the more I saw my girl through the my guy's eyes, and I loved her, and him.
The agents guessed that the narrator was a guy, that he loved her. The panelists said they LOVED my first line. They pointed out faults that I tried to work on when submitting to the editors and agents who asked for pages. This was an awesome experience. What I wrote came across on the page. It worked! (Though I still had more work to do, I was stoked!)

The panels opened my eyes though, as to how other people read my work. I've never had someone sit in front of me and read my words aloud (I know I turned red when they came across each of my pieces, thankfully no one looked at me. I think we were all terrified). I think from now on, if people have time, I may ask friends to read my work aloud so I can go through and say "Yea, actually, that line sucks."

I guess this is just another step in overcoming anxiety and being brave.

Overcoming Anxiety

I wrote a few months back about how I try to PUSH MYSELF out of my COMFORT ZONE, and how I have a lot of anxiety when it comes to reading. Tonight, I took a huge step in the direction of overcoming that:

Dressed in girl shorts and a nice shirt with make up on my face, I stood before a small crowed in a coffee shop in Nags Head, North Carolina. Granted 90% of the people there were to see me (I'm not kidding, my sister, and several friends showed up and rocked my world)...but I prepared to read when the mediator said, "Lynne, are you ready?". (Also--when he asked for my name, I said Lynne, and he asked "L-y-n-n?" and I said "L-y-n-n-E" and he was like "It's not like the spelling matters as long as I know who I'm calling, right?" And I thought about Kellie...and how sometimes spelling really does matter.... It was nice to know she was still with me tonight.)

Before I read one of my pieces, I showed the audience my paper, which looked something like this:

Those scribbles? Those notes saying Breathe or Look Up are tricks that I learned from my high school communications teacher. She pushed me to read slowly (though I hear I was still a bit fast tonight, I'll work on it!), to look at my audience, and to just breathe. Though my heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest, and my face got wicked red, I read what I wrote, mostly about my life.



And then was asked to read more.

When I read and looked at the crowd (a few times), I caught eyes with people...they were actually listening to me. Like, really. It was amazing and I felt high. 


I ended up reading a total of three poems (Smoke and Mirrors, Revolutions, Hands) and three short stories (Airplanes..which actually made a couple of people in the audience cry, which was AWESOME, especially because they'd read these pieces before, Sleeping Arrangements, and Good Girls and Bad Guys).


When all was said and done, I was approached by the mediator who gave me his card and told me that he'd love to have me for the next Open Mic, and that he really, really liked my writing. He also told me some information for Dare County Arts Council (like when they meet and stuff, and how they have critique groups! Yay!). So...after this, I was beaming and then approached by another man.


He, too, was a reader, and there were a couple of his poems that I really liked, and he told me that I did really, really well, and said that I came across very confident (funny, because I was scared shitless).  He said that my pacing was good, and that I didn't stumble over my words! Yay!


Moral of this very long story is...I'm pushing myself, every day to be a better writer.

But being a writer, isn't just writing. It's speaking, it's going out there and making yourself known, even if you start off in a small coffee shop that you work nearly 40 hours a week at. It's being brave when you'd rather go home and take a nap, or find it hard to catch your breath. It's writing words like Breathe and Look Up on your papers, because every step you take will push you in the right direction.


On a side note, the saddest thing about tonight is that a few select people weren't able to make it. The biggest one being my little man, Baxter:

I think when I get published, I'm going to try to find a place that is pet friendly so he can come with me. :)

Reading Anxiety

As a writer, I think my biggest fear (aside from fear of the dark, fear of black widow spiders, fear of clowns...etc) is having new people say, "Hey, can I read what you've written?"

My first instinct is to think "YES!!! A NEW PROOF READER!", and I get really excited... Until I print something off, or go to click the "Send" button through e-mail. It's all fun and games until that point. Right then, I feel crippling anxiety take over, "Oh, God, what if they don't like it?" "What if they find out I'm not as good as I think I am?" Then there's always the fear of, "What if they try to steal my work...my ideas?" (Which has actually happened. I wrote my friend a poem, and he stole a line from it and put it into his story WITHOUT asking. And then proceeded to say "I thought we wrote that together". Yea. No.)

When I send these materials, I find myself constantly apologizing and saying things like, "Let me know if there's anything you don't like." This is (in reality) a good thing to say, I want to edit, I want my work to be more readable to others. But at the same time, I end the e-mail with, "You may not like this...but".

Now--put this in perspective for literary agents or literary magazines. The query and cover letters are supposed to say "This is what my novel/piece is about..." and "I am strong and confident with my work." You're not supposed to apologize. You're not supposed to allow yourself the weakness you feel. You're supposed to expect that they'll love your writing and want to print you...as soon as possible.

Maybe I get more anxious with people I know reading my work (especially Creative Nonfiction...as there are some stories people who know me, just shouldn't know). Maybe I'm afraid of what they'll say about it...Thankfully, most everyone who has read what I've written is constructive with their criticism and willing to read the re-write. They're not afraid to say "This is weak, this is lacking, I am not engaged with your narrator". Some also say, "This line is awesome. I totally know what you mean."

The writing world is terrifying to me. But just as I mentioned being constantly afraid of speaking in public in this blog, I fight through my fear. Every. Day. I. Can. It can only make me a better writer.