F is for Friends and Family

He can make human, or canine friends

The thing about dogs and small children is that they fall in love easily. I remember being at the playground when a little girl, small and blond, just like me, came up. I asked, "Hey, do you want to be friends?" and she said yes. And for that entire day we played on the jungle gym together.

Baxter is kind of the same way. If you pet him the right way, he'll love you for life. I'm pretty sure that by now he's used to moving around a lot and getting his heart broken as we leave, but he still makes friends.

He met Laura as a puppy. He pooed in her yard, probably peed in her apartment, got attacked by her cats. Back then he was small and adorable so the peeing and pooing was (somewhat) excusable. A few years later, we all lived together on and off for about two years. She hated how much he drooled, but when I went to Seattle for PNWA, she took care of him for me.

And then she left North Carolina.

And then we left North Carolina.

Though Baxter and I travelled to Michigan, he didn't get to see Laura (her apartment didn't allow extra pets, plus we were afraid of how the cats would take a 120 lb dog). It's been just about two years since Baxter has seen my sister.

And though it's been awhile, it turns out, he hasn't forgotten her at all:

Think he missed her?

When she got into the car at the airport, he all but mauled her. It was probably one of the cutest and yet most heartbreaking things I'd ever seen. Cute, because it was so very evident that he remembered her, and that he missed her. Heartbreaking, because he truly missed her.

Here's why dogs are better than people:
~They don't get angry when you leave. They're just happy when you return.
~They don't ask for more than you're willing to give. If you don't want them on your lap, you say "Go lay down" and typically it's done.
~They can love you, even if you're not the owner.

So to friends and family near and far, know that Baxter loves and misses you.

And he's patiently awaiting your return.

Speaking Languages

For week three of the Express Yourself Meme, they asked, "What language would you like to speak, and why?"

My answer to that is Polish. And here's why:

This is my Babcia (pronounced Bop-Cha, basically):
:

Isn't she adorable?

She is my grandmother on my mother's side of the family. As previously stated, I met her very late in life. By the time I was actually standing awkwardly in the same room with her, she'd had several strokes. She could walk, but it was incredibly slow, and her memory was being lost by the day.

Currently, she rocks out in a nursing home in Massachusetts. I haven't seen her in about two years (three, maybe?) The last time I saw her, she was in a wheelchair, withering down to skin and bones. She repeated questions like, "How is your mother?" "How is Jacci?" and she talked about her husband who's been dead longer than I've been alive. Now she is usually in a wheelchair, she can barely feed herself, and she watches reruns of I Love Lucy or whatever else is on the television.

Because her mind has regressed so substantially, I can say few words to her in her own tongue, How are you? and I love you. Her mind carries her native language, and I, as a product of the melting pot of America, have lost my cultural identity. My mother, formerly bi-lingual, also fails from time to time to remember a Polish word. She never taught her children how to speak another language (it's something I'm incredibly bitter with).

At some point in life, I would like to study Polish, to learn the language of my family. Sadly, I don't think I'll learn enough of the language fast enough to be able to have a coherent conversation with my babcia, but at least I'll know that that grain of culture resides in me, somewhere.

For now...It's English for me. (I'm so uncultured).

Don't Be An Athlete, You'll Look Like A Boy

I met my mother's side of the family late in the game. I mean, LATE in the game. Most kids at the age of 12 (or whatever age I was) knew their grandmother, their aunt, their cousins. Most of them grew up with them, played with them.

Not me.

But when we Schmidt Sisters finally met our estranged family after a road trip from Michigan to Massachusetts, we fell in love with them. Well...most of them.

Laura before an Intramural college game

For a long time, I believed Laura would grow up to play in the WNBA. She was an awesome basketball player, and most of my middle and high school memories consist of playing with her, or hearing about her games. That is, until she went to Germany on a foreign exchange program and (playing basketball) tore her ACL overseas. The dreams kind of faded after that. She still played, but didn't push herself as hard. Now, a few more intense surgeries later, she takes things kind of easy.

Meanwhile, Jacci and I had always been runners. Sure we'd play other sports, but the thing that really drove us was pounding out 3.1 miles on trails.

The three of us found our calling in sports. It calmed us, made us happy, and gave us a feeling of support which was lacking from our home life.

After that first visit to my mother's family's, my sisters made a pilgrimage to Massachusetts about once a year. The one year Laura couldn't make it, Jacci and I decided to travel south for a week, stopping wherever we wanted. We lived in a car, I got stung by a jelly fish in Virginia Beach, and then headed north to spend a week with my mom's family.

My family!
It's dark but from left to right:
Walter, me, Lucy, Mom, Martha, Edge
Cousins, and all around awesome people.

Our aunt fed us, our cousin probably took us on some huge adventure, and for a faint time in our lives, we felt real familial love.

Then, our great aunt invited us to her house, and though the family said, "Think about what you're doing," we said, "Sure! We'll come for a couple nights!"

After hanging out for a few hours, Jacci and I put on our shorts and shoes, and set off to go running. Only before we got out the door, our great aunt stopped us. "What are you doing?" (read that with a thick Polish accent).

"Going running," we said.

Jacci, in her wedding dress...
Picking me up..

"Nonsense. Don't be an athlete you'll look like a man, with the broad shoulders and flat chest. You're already starting to look like a man," she said pointing to Jacci. Then she turned to me and said, "And you, you look like a little boy. No more running. No boy will want you if you look like a boy."

Jacci and I stood in the kitchen of our great aunt's house, not sure to believe what had just been said. Later that night we'd also get lectures about using deodorant, bras, and shaving our legs (the moral was to not do/use any of these things). Needless to say we barely made it 24 hours in that house by the time we returned with our bags back to our aunt's.

At the door we were greeted with our cousin, Adam laughing and calling in to the house, "Who said today?"

"What?" we asked.

"Oh, nothing. We were just taking bets on how long you girls would last over there..."

Turns out our great aunt has a knack for scaring family members away.

As previously stated, Jacci still runs. She ran when she was pregnant, and she's incredibly active. Laura takes things a bit easier, but I still consider her an athlete, too. And I...I've been training for the road race on Sunday. As of September 26 (when I actually wrote this post) I ran my 5K in 23:57, which falls into my "Realistic Goals" category. I'll let you guys know next week how the race actually turns out!

As far as looking like a boy goes...well, in high school I always had a hard time fitting into prom dresses because either my shoulders or my hips were too wide. But sometimes, I look like this:

I think that means I can pass for a girl, right?

Moral of this post, like the one where I told you guys that Harry Potter is Demonic, is to be yourselves. Run if you like to run. Write if you like to write. Sacrifice kittens if you like to sacrifice kittens...

Actually, yea, don't do that last one.
But be happy. Be yourself. And wish me luck for my race, because I'm still running :) (Please)

“To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.”

~Ralph Waldo Emerson

Memoir Writing III: Selling People Out

Welcome to day three of Memoir Writing. Today, I'm going to focus on what I learned at a panel at AWP; Selling Out Everyone You Love. I'm also going to tie in a couple of other things I learned but...Let's start here.

People say, "Never trust a writer." Why? Because we have this little habit of basing fiction off real life...and then *GASP* some of us write the dreaded memoir. So, our life, and our friend's and family's lives are there for the world to see. So how do we handle this? How do we write about that time when Aunt Sally got drunk and peed her pants on the dance floor? How do we approach that time when Uncle Willy accidentally killed the neighbor's dog and just left it? How do we write about the people we've been in fights with, people who told us their secrets in exchange for ours, and still keep them in our lives? 

Baxter saying, "No, Lynne. Don't write about that time I chewed up that photo album you loved and then proceeded to pee on it when you yelled at me."  (This is a true story, by the way)

Firstly, those of you who follow my blog, know I post a lot of things about real life pretty regularly. I have a personal blog on Xanga that is my "Woe is me," blog. My sister will say things like, "Wow, you're able to just write about that," meaning that I'm not censoring myself, I'm just saying, "This is what happened, this is why I'm pissed."

But blogs are different from Memoir.  Memoir tells a story, your journey through (usually) hell and back.
 Stephen Elliot, author of The Adderal Diaries gave some advice,

"Find your moral line, and never cross it." 

So what's your moral line? What is that one thing that you'll never do, never write about, never say? Notice, this isn't your sister's moral line, this is yours. This is how you'll get to sleep tonight.

Things to consider when you're writing:

*Everyone you know will read it

*You don't know what will set the reader (your potential, mother, grandmother) off

In order to write a memoir well, you need to be able to forgive the people in your life for wronging you. Truth of the matter is, people aren't just evil all the time (except for the guy I lost my virginity to...literally, this kid had and still has no redeeming qualities). In contrast, people aren't always good all the time, either. As writers, and even as specifically memoirists, it is our job, our RESPONSIBILITY to say the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

The truth of this picture may have some potential
law breaking involved....

If you're unable to tell the reader that one good night you had with an ex lover before he crashed your car and decapitated your cat, we won't believe you. After all, why would you be so dumb as to let him in your apartment in the first place? Chances are that you loved him before you hated him...so why did you love him? Keep in mind, if that cat was your sister's cat, too...she may not want you to paint him in this light.  After-all, she hated him from the get-go. She told you he was bad news.

So, some things to consider  before you write your memoir:
This book is about you, and your path. It is NOT about getting literary revenge on Johnny. While he may have had a piece of the puzzle, you only need to show your interactions with him to propel YOUR story forward. This is your story, not Johnny's.

Who are the important pieces of the memoir? Why are they important?

When you write, try not to censor yourself. Don't think of friends, and family, or publication. Think of the story, because clearly, this story is important to you.

As a creative non fiction writer, you have to be willing to sell out YOURSELF before you can really sell out anyone else. If before that ex lover decapitated your cat, you handed him the knife and said, "Dude, cut my cat's head off," we need to see this. We need to see your faults, your truths that you usually leave out of your retellings. People's short comings are really what make us interesting.

With that said, remember all it boils down to is being able to write the story. So, write it before considering who you're going to offend because...

Tomorrow's blog is about handling the pissed off character in your memoir. (Also known as, "Don't you dare write this or you are not my daughter/son anymore!" and how to handle those responses.)

"Just Because You Are A Writing Maniac"

My good friend Tammy Henry wrote me a very nice e-mail the other day, that completely made me smile. She's given me permission to post it here:

Steph,
I am SO PROUD OF YOU!!!!
This e-mail made me smile and I even made Lora and Aimee listen to it while I read it a loud for them because it made me so happy! I am so glad to hear that you finished the edits and that you are happy with the finished product! :) I will now be reading it again, when it is printed, bound, and in book content when I see it on the bookshelves at the local bookstore, which when I purchase it I will say to the local bookstore worker, "and THAT author......to this VERY BOOK I AM HOLDING..... just so happens to be my sister.......just sayin......she is bad ass!" I cannot WAIT for that day!
Good luck with all the submissions and good luck with all those future readers who will be reading it.....I am sure they will all love it as much as I do!
I know there is someone out there who will be proud to publish all 220 PAGES 72,624 FUCKING WORDS OF IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
YOU RULE MAN!
I LOVE YOU STEPH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Tammy Tam