Month: July 2016

Bottle Caps

Margot looked out of her living room window, trying to see if the neighbor’s dog was out. She hadn’t heard it all morning, but it sometimes slept under the porch if it was a hot day.

“What are you doing inside?” Mom asked, coming into the room.

“Nothing,” Margot said quickly, knowing what Mom would say if she told the truth.

Mom, though, was not to be fooled. “It’s a gorgeous day, Margot, you should be outside.”

“I know,” Margot said, looking down. There was no sense telling her mother. She didn’t believe that things like barking dogs should stop people from doing things.

“Go on, outside,” Mom said, giving her a little nudge. “Go play in the mud or something.”

“Okay,” Margot said. If it had been up to her, she wouldn’t ever go out. But, of course, hardly anything was ever up to her.

Out in the yard, though, things were quiet. If the horrible dog was out, it wasn’t in view. She spent some time playing with her jump rope, soon tiring of it. There were only so many times she could sing the same rhyme to herself. Finally, she collected her basket of toy cars and chalk, and lay down on the sidewalk to draw roads.

As she began constructing her highway, she noticed a bottle cap. It was on one of the sidewalk squares outside of the neighbor’s house, the creepy woman who owned the frightening dog. Margot picked it up, and inspected it. It was a simple cap, from a beer brand she’d never heard of.

As she held it in her hand, she heard the back door of the neighbor’s house open. She looked up just in time to see the dog, the big, loud, slobbering dog come running for her. He was already barking madly.

She knew he couldn’t reach her, not on his chain. Still, the sound was terrifying.

“Stop it, shut up!” she cried.

Much to her surprise, though, the dog did stop making sounds. It’s mouth was still moving, but nothing was coming out. The bottle cap in Margot’s hand was glowing.

Not a moment later, the front door of the neighbor’s house burst open, and the lady who lived there came out. “Hey,” she said, coming to the sidewalk. “What did you do to my dog?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Margot said, hiding the bottle cap behind her.

“Little kids are bad liars,” the woman said, “Give me whatever you’re holding or I’m going to tell your mom.”

Reluctantly, Margot handed over the bottle cap. The woman looked at it. Her eyes narrowed, and she gave the girl a suspicious look. “How did you get this?” she asked.

“I found it on the ground,” she said, pointing to the spot where she’d found it.

“Don’t pick up stuff outside of my house,” she said. Then, she took her dog by the collar, and led him inside.

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Why I’ll Abandon A Book

I have to be completely honest with you guys. I don’t always finish a book once I’ve picked it up. In fact, sometimes I don’t finish it at all.

While I know this is common practice for most people, I’m not most people. I’m a writer, right? I shouldn’t be quitting on books. I should have the patience and attention span to stick with it too the end, right?

Wrong, so wrong. If a book fails to do what I expect it to do, I owe it no more of my time. And, since I am a writer myself, I am exceptionally critical of other authors who fail to do their one job. That job, of course, is tell a compelling story. I wouldn’t expect someone to finish my book, much less pick up another one, if I fail to tell a compelling story. There are too many stories, too many authors that deserve my attention.

Here, then, are a few reasons I will abandon a book.

I don’t care about the characters.

I am all about a character driven story. That is to say, a story about a person, rather than an event. That’s a personal preference, this is true. I know a lot of people really appreciate a plot driven story. I will also enjoy a plot driven story.

But the characters still matter. I need to care about the character, and what happens to them. Even if they’re an antihero, I need to care!

I can’t take the sad anymore.

This one might be cowardice on my part, but I have stopped reading a book because it was too depressing. Actually, no, it’s not cowardice. There comes a point at which it becomes self-care. I’m thinking, specifically, of 1984. I am afraid of this ending; I know it’s nothing good. The book was not only sad, it was repulsing on a very basic level. I’m a very food driven person, and the thought of not having enough food to feed my children, of intentionally allowing one of my children to starve because there’s not enough food for both of them, makes me physically ill. In that way, I guess I understand how the people in the book might have been led to give up all of their freedom.

Now, please, if you’re a writer, don’t take this to mean that you shouldn’t write about difficult topics. I’ve read countless books about really dark and difficult topics that have greatly impacted my life, in a good way. The Giver, Number the Stars and Maus just to name a few. It just so happens that 1984 hit one of my personal demons, hard. And I’m not inclined to throw myself into a depression fit just to finish a book, no matter how significant it is.

Something better distracts me.

Look, there are a lot of books coming out every week, and I’ve only got so much reading time. So if I’m in the middle of a book, and I get my hands on something that I want to read more, I might just put the first book down. If the story isn’t enough to keep me interested, it’s in danger of being replaced.

This is basic survival of the fittest. And it’s totally understandable. The problem is, from a writer’s perspective, it’s damn hard to defend against. Everyone’s subjective, and what I find riveting might bore you to tears.

I don’t care how the book ends.

This, though, is the cardinal sin of writing. I have forced through some pretty awful books because I had to find out how they ended. There’s some sort of mystery, and the whole book’s been leading up to finding out the answer. That’s the most powerful incentive to keep turning those pages, read one more chapter before bed, sneak in some extra reading time after dinner. ‘I want to know how this ends’ trumps terrible writing, shitty characters and any other crime a bad writer might commit.

But if I don’t care how the story ends, I don’t care to waste my time. I don’t make this decision lightly, though. I got halfway through Dances With Dragons, for instance, before I realized that I just didn’t care anymore.

What reasons do you have for abandoning a book? Do you think it horrible that I do it at all? Let us know, in the comments below.

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Why I Write on Paper

I don’t think it’s any surprise that I’m a tech geek. I work with computers, play video games, walk around with my tablet all of the time and read e-books more than physical ones. I use my computer and tablet to write almost everything.

Almost, is what I said. Because the first draft of almost everything I write ends up in a composition notebook first. I also keep a bullet journal in an honest to goodness moleskine notebook. There are a ton of reasons why I do this, and you should consider it too. Here’s why.

It helps me remember things. I know there is research for this, but hell of I could find it. Somehow, though, if I’m making a list of things I need to do, I find that I will remember things I’d forgotten, but need to add to the list.

I also find it easier to brainstorm for a story on paper. I need to write random ideas that might not be in any order yet, and plot points that will have multiple repercussions. Think mind mapping. I know that there is software that allows you to mind map on screen, but I have yet to find one that does it for me.

It keeps a solid record of something. Like my memories of a day. If something’s on a screen, I might go back later and ‘fix’. It’s the editor in me. But there have been days that I had a deep, raw, emotional reaction to something. I was thankful to have the reaction to those events on paper, unchanged. Also, I tend to treat my bullet journal as a scrap book. I paste pictures, movie tickets, and other paper mementos into the pages. This makes my journals precious to me.

I can doodle and sketch, and if you don’t think that’s important to the creative process, I don’t know what you’re doing with yourself.

It’s easier to take with me. Yes, I do love my tablet, but it’s not as comfortable to write on it as it is to write in a notebook. I don’t know why, I’ve just never gotten to a point where I’m comfortable typing on one of those screens. Maybe I’m too old to ever really like that. Maybe my nails are too long.

Finally, it makes writing a physical experience. Three’s something to be said for the soothing sound of clicking keys. But there’s also something to be said about being alone with the blank page, just you and a pen. The quiet scratching, the feel of ink flowing onto the paper. It’s a nearly spiritual experience for me.

I usually try to avoid talk like this, but I don’t think I’m the only writer who feels this way. When I write on paper, there are times when I feel like I’m not making the story up at all. It’s just flowing out of me, the words coming in just the right order, as though I’m seeing the story happening and just dictating it. I have never experienced this on a screen.

I do keep a lot of things on my screens. My flylady control journal is kept on Evernote, and I actually don’t keep my to do lists in my bullet journal, because the Todoist app makes more sense for my lifestyle. But when it needs to matter, when it needs to be my voice, my life, my blood, it needs to be on paper first.

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listening to children

It’s Throwback Thursday again.

Nicole Luttrell's avatarPaper Beats World

Recently I’ve realized that I’ve done almost nothing for children’s writers. This makes less than no sense, because in my opinion, children’s authors are super heroes. You think I’m wrong? I’m not, and I can prove it, too. Think back to your very first favorite book. I am willing to bet it was not an adult book, and it likely wasn’t a young adult book, either. My very first favorite book ever was Where The Wild Things are, by Maurice Sendack. I read that book twice a day on average. I also read Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs, and it’s thrilling sequel, Pickles To Pittsburgh. I devoured these books and gradually discovered bigger and bigger books. Goosebumps, The Baby Sitter’s Club, Chocolate Fever, The Last of The Unicorns. If I hadn’t learned to love reading with these, I might never have bothered with Philippa Gregory, Robert Jordan, Brandon Sanderson…

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Golden Fruit

She held it in her hand, the perfect, glowing fruit. She’d tried for days to get it, climbing all the way to the top of the tree they grew on. It was a good one, a special one. She could feel it’s power, under the sun warmed skin. This would be something that would make people think. It had taken a long time to reach it, but it was worth it for him.

He didn’t smile, this human. He did all the other things most humans did, the eating and the sitting in front of their shiny boxes. He played with his children, and he smiled then. Not much besides that.

This fruit would make him smile.

She sought him out at the place he went every day. He sat quietly, tapping on the table with a pen. She set the fruit in front of him, allowing him to see the beauty. It caught his eye, she knew it did.

But he looked away. She nudged it closer, but he still refused.

She tried again. This time he was sitting quietly while his child took a nap. He had a screen in his hand. She again tried to give him the fruit. Surely he must want it. He had taken so many when he was young.

Again, he ignored it.

This time, when she retrieved it, there was a small brown mark on the bottom. The fruit was going bad.

It was such a bright one. She couldn’t let it go to waste. She would have to try again, soon.

The next day, he was sitting in front of the big shiny screen, after putting the children to sleep. She set the fruit next to him. It had several dark spots, he had to take it this time. He looked at it, and started reaching for it.

At the last moment, though, he pulled away, and stood up. He went away, and came back with a dark bottle, resolutely not looking at the fruit.

It was no good. She would have to give the fruit to someone else, or risk letting it spoil. He needed it, she knew he did. But there were others who might need it too, she reasoned. And so she took the fruit, and went off in search for another.

Sometime later, though, she looked in on him. She had another fruit, not as good or as bright as the last. He was sitting at the place he went, touching the plastic and metal thing in front of him. His face looked weary.

It wasn’t a special fruit, she didn’t know why he would take it when he hadn’t taken the perfect one. But, she held it out to him, not thinking that he would take it.

This time, he looked up, looking away from his screen. The fruit had caught his attention. He looked at his screen, then back at the fruit. Finally, he reached out, and took it. And as he did, he smiled.

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I’m a Quitter

Hello, my name is Nicole Luttrell, and I’m a quitter.

No, I didn’t quit anything good, like smoking. But I do quit things all of the time. In fact, here’s a short list of things I quit in my twenties.

  • A total of five jobs, including simply walking out of one.
  • I quit on two blogs, one about parenting and one about politics.
  • I have quit several attempts to put ads on PBW, meaning that I, to this day, don’t make money blogging. Oh darn.
  • I gave up on the first two novels I wrote.
  • I will throw away rough drafts of short stories and flash fiction if I don’t think they ended up good enough.
  • I have given up on learning German more times than I’d care to admit.
  • Sometimes I just go through my to do list, and decide that I’m not going to do some of the things on there. Ever.
  • I have stopped reading books halfway through.
  • I an notorious for walking away from movies if I’m not interested in them.
  • My last relationship ended, well, abruptly.

I actually have a general rule that if I’m not happy with something, I’ll walk the hell away. I consider this to be one of the healthiest part of my life.

What? What’s this? Isn’t it better to be determined? To stick with things even if they’re hard? Well, yes, that’s absolutely true. I’ve stuck with lots of things too, like this blog for instance. I have a good day job that I intend to stay at until I am making enough money writing to support my family. I have been married a year and a half, we lived together years before that, and we’ve been together for eight years. I’m also a mother and step mother of two girls. I’ve written two books in one series, published a book of short stories, and written a third book (a novella, but still) in a new series. And I know, for a fact, that if I hadn’t quit the things in the first list, I wouldn’t have been able to do anything in the second list.

Now, it’s the fourth of July, just a few days into the second half of 2016. Some of you, many I hope, are starting to take a hard look at your goals for the year, assessing what can still be done. It might be time to make some cuts. Not only to that list, but to your life in general if you’re not all that happy about where you are. When I’m considering quitting, here’s what I consider.

Is this doing anyone any good?

I do a lot for my family. I’m not complaining, or bragging, it’s just the truth. So if there’s something in my life that is directly benefiting my family, I’ll keep doing it unless it makes me unhappy. I don’t mean just irritated, or frustrated, I mean really unhappy.

One example would be house cleaning. Over the past year I’ve put a lot more effort into cleaning. I’ve started following the good advise of the Fly Lady.

Is it doing me any legitimate good?

Look, we all have to do things we don’t like to keep ourselves healthy. We exercise when we’d rather not, we take vitamins and eat right when we’d rather have cheeseburgers. I keep talking to friends and select family members, even though I am naturally introverted and it’s often hard for me to spend time with people. At the same time, I’ve stopped talking to a lot of people. They weren’t doing me any good, and often they were causing me harm. For instance, my last relationship.

Could I be using this time and energy toward something better?

I don’t have a lot of time, so I really don’t have any to waste. So if something isn’t working for me, it’s best to cut it out of my routine and replace it with something better. This can include stories that I don’t have faith in, blog series that can be replaced by better ones, and books that are shitty that Idon’t consider worth my time to read to the end.

Am I throwing good time, or money after bad?

No one’s perfect, and we all make bad decisions. Sometimes those bad decisions are an investment of time or money. I did so when I signed up for an ad company. I wasted a whole bunch of time trying to write posts for affiliate links. Thank goodness I stopped that. It wasted time, was boring as hell, and probably irritated some people. Sorry. But I felt like I had to, because I had taken so much time signing up for this program and getting approved to be an affiliate. I did eventually give it over, but it took an embarrassingly long time to do so.

Does this still make me happy?

This is part one of the big deciding factor. I only have 24 hours in a day, and I insist on filling those hours with things that make me happy. This means that I’ve kept doing things that I really enjoy, even if they don’t’ seem to have any benefit. Like watching youtube or putting on makeup. These things don’t hurt me, but they don’t really help me either. I also keep writing short stories, even though my short collections don’t sell that well. I just like writing short stories, and will probably keep doing so forever. This goes for all of my writing, though. Even if I don’t ever make money writing, I’ll still do it.

Does this make me miserable?

I legitimately quit one job because I was just so miserable going there every day. I stopped writing stories because I was miserable writing them. Honestly, life is just too short. So if something in my life makes me miserable, I’m just going to quit.

Disclaimer: This does not mean I think it’s a good idea for you to just freaking quit your job or get divorced! Those are major life decisions that will impact your whole family. Please take time and discuss choices like that with everyone who will be effected! Don’t just take a bad day and give up, that’s a stupid idea!

By the way, here’s a list of things that I stuck with, after years of trying.

In case you think I’m a horrible quitter with no wherewithal, here’s a list of things that I hated and was really hard to stick with. But I’m glad I did.

  • After years of working, I have finally gotten into the habit of meditating daily. It took lots of stops and starts, but I made it. And I really have seen a great improvement in my patience and mental capacity.
  • I finally found a cleaning routine that works for me! Again, check out Flylady’s website, if you’ve never seen it before.
  • After years of trying, I am now in the habit of keeping my laundry done.
  • Food planning. You heard me. If you’re not doing it, do it.
  • Bullet journaling has been a hard habit to put into my life, but it has benefited me greatly.
  • Being married is hard, even when you’re married to my best friend. Most days it’s great, but there are days when it’s hard to get through. I’m always happy I do after a fight, though.
  • There are hugely terrible days at the day job. There are hugely amazing days too. So I stick with it.
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Some Thoughts On Disney

I guess everyone’s got something to say about Disney. I guess this shouldn’t surprise anyone. No one, not a single person on this planet, doesn’t know Disney and Micky Mouse. They really do have something for everyone, especially someone like me. I am, after all, a lover of the dark and twisted. Oh, you didn’t realize there was plenty of that in there? There is.

Bu Disney is not a friend to the feminists. In fact, the company is not a friend to a lot of people. I’ve gone through a roller coaster of emotions with Disney in my lifetime. I had, literally, every Disney movie ever made as a kid. I went through a phase where I wouldn’t let them in my house. And now, I’ve made my peace. If you will, let me share with you what caused this love, hate, love relationship.

Also, let me add that I have had none of these issues with Pixar. They are fantastic, and every movie they make is golden.

Ridiculous sexism

This is the very textbook definition of beating a dead horse, but I’ll go ahead and take a few wacks at it anyway. My favorite Disney movies growing up were The Little Mermaid, Beauty and The Beat, and Cinderella.

The Little Mermaid pisses me off because it’s the story of a young girl making stupid choices because she’s stupid, and she then has to be rescued by her daddy and new boyfriend.

Beauty and the Beast is all about a super smart girl who falls in love with an asshat. I don’t care about his appearance. Let’s face it, that might be kind of a turn on for some people. He’s a controlling douche. He does not treat Bell how I would expect a man to treat my daughters.

Cinderella, I guess I shouldn’t have to break this one down. But her whole life is shit, and all she cares about is finding a ‘prince’. The prince, by the by, wouldn’t have looked twice at her if she hadn’t been all decked out. Isn’t that what the Fairy Godmother, read representation of a maternal figure, teaches her. Is this what we teach our daughters, to focus only on our physical qualities so that we attract a boy? Look, when I make my face up and put on a killer pair of jeans, that’s for me.

Bastardization of dark stories

I love Grimm fairy tales, love them. I used to read the originals to my kids when they were babies. Cinderella, when the evil step sisters cut off parts of their feet. Ariel in The Little Mermaid turned into sea foam after Eric married someone else. (It’s not a Grimm story, but still, sea foam.)

I could go on and on. Good, dark stories, watered down to a flavorless nothing. They took the dark and grit and replaced it with singing animals and lovely dresses.

Insane internet theories

Did you know Walt Disney was anti Semitic? Do you know that there’s a penis on the cover of The Little Mermaid, or that if you freeze The Lion King at the right time some leaves flutter up in the air and spell out sex?

I could spend a whole day just reading crazy Disney crap online. Some of it’s true, I actually had that Little Mermaid cover. Some of it’s crap. Some of it’s funny as hell. For instance, there’s a story about the Small World ride being shut down because there was a kid’s body hanging from the ceiling. One of my favorites.

Modern attempts to improve their image, both good and bad

Frozen was awesome, I have no complaints. Brave, also good. Even Tangled was good, it’s what I’d call the first of a new wave of Disney movies that don’t piss me off.

But I’ve got to complain for a minute about The Princess and the Frog. Yes, she was the first African American princess. (Not the first white princess, mind you. Jasmine, Mulan, Pocahontas, even Nala if you’re feeling generous.) Does anyone else get pissed that she’s also the first poor Disney Princess? Yes, many came from humble backgrounds like Snow White and Sleeping Beauty. But they were supposed to be rich, they were stolen away from their family.

There’s also the fact that Tiana wanted a restaurant more than anything else. She didn’t get one when she saved up all of her money and worked hard for it. She got it when her rich husband bought it for her. Great moral for the girls, let me tell you. Hard work won’t matter unless you marry rich.

But I still let my kids watch Disney movies, and here’s why.

I love Disney now, for a very personal reason. They saved Marvel and Lucasfilms. So, for all the whiny, useless, pretty Disney princesses, we’ve been rewarded. The Avengers, this whole new Marvel franchise, it’s all them. Also, Episode VI.

Now we’ve come, though, the real reason I wanted to talk to you about this today.

We, give creatives too much power over how our kids end up. I know, I’m a writer. My stories have never been accused of being a bad example, yet. #lifegoals! Writers and creatives get blamed all the time for people behaving badly. I don’t need to make a list for you. But no matter what I write, I am only ever going to be responsible for how two kids in this world end up, mine.

Yes, I point out all sorts of strong female characters on shows to my kids. Science Fiction is full of them, thank God. But those aren’t my girls heroes. I point to Elizabeth Warren, a brilliant politician and Economist. Natalie Portman, who I guarantee is smarter than you. I point to Tina Fey, Amy Pholer and Sarah Silverman as examples of women who can be funny as hell. Then there’s Tamora Pierce, Philipa Gregory, JK Rowling and Mary Shelly. Oh, and also Malala.

And also myself, by the way. Not to brag, but I am a smart woman with a good career. Then there’s my mother in law, a former naval officer and an amazing nurse. And my grandmother. I think I was pretty clear about how awesome she is. Then there’s my great grandmother, who emigrated here from Hungary as a child. Don’t think that’s scary as hell? You try moving somewhere everyone speaks a different language and hates you on basic principle.

So, yeah, I don’t care if the Disney princess is frail, and wussy. I don’t care if they watch all the silly, stupid, vapid girls in their pretty dresses. I’m the example my daughters will follow. And so I work hard, because I want them to work hard. I don’t participate in girl hate, but at the same time I don’t bash men for their gender. I don’t practice self hate, that’s a big one. (My girls will never hear me call myself fat, I promise.) If you’ve got kids, maybe you should be their example. Just saying.

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