The Long Way Home

by Scott, Jessica

  I’m really excited about this opportunity and as soon as I get more information, I’ll be sure to pass it along. Thank you all so much for your support over the last year and in the coming months!

  Rebuilding My Kids’ Trust

  February 2, 2010

  SO THINGS HAVE BEEN a little insane around my house lately. My kids are starting to settle in with being home and more importantly, being comfortable being home. Part of that comfort is trusting us to be there when they wake up in the morning.

  When my hubby and I left, both for R&R and for the original deployment, we delayed talking about leaving until it was time to go. It was important to us because we wanted to enjoy our time together. But inevitably, it came time to tell the kids we were going to be gone. We never said we have to go to work. We said we had to go away for a while and we told them we were not going to be there in the morning. It sucked every night while my kids cried, telling me they did not want me to go.

  They still don’t understand that work is every day and that we’ll be home in the evening. Every time there is a break in our new routine, they get upset. And I’m talking sitting on my lap with red faces, tears streaking down their faces, crying “Mommy, I don’t want you to go.”

  It’s not easy to turn it off and deal with it rationally. It’s hard, because I know they’re hurting. I know there is an ache inside them that they don’t have the words to explain and I know that I am responsible for the insecurity in their lives.

  It’s hard to find the words to comfort them because they don’t understand but I have to keep trying. I have to find a way to tell them that Mommy isn’t leaving again anytime soon and convince them that it’s true. I’ve wrecked their trust, even though it was unintentional and it’s going to take time to rebuild that.

  It’s hard and it hurts but it is getting better. Things are starting to slip into routine. My oldest is starting to enjoy school again. My youngest is still not a fan of the daycare but she’s no longer screaming “Mommy, don’t leave me!” when I drop her off.

  They’re doing okay and with a lot of prayer and plenty of B Vitamins, I’m doing okay, too. But that, my friends, is another post.

  Traditions or #tweetsfromtheball

  February 4, 2010

  AS MUCH AS I complained on Twitter about it, I actually had a good time at my unit's Ball, a night for all of us to get dressed up in our finest and celebrate being home. (Of course if by good time you mean your feet hurt and you can’t breathe b/c the last time you wore your Blues you hadn’t had two kids, but I digress). These things are tradition. They’re part of the lineage and history of what we do. The pants on the blues are lighter color than the jackets to symbolize our soldiers from the Civil War, whose pants were bleached by the sun.

  If they’re going to be done, they should be done right. When I tweeted about the spouses at our table looking beautiful, I wasn’t kidding. They were all dressed in very classy gowns and carried themselves in the finest tradition of military wives.

  Other spouses, however, did not look the part and those were some of the ones you read about. But here’s the thing: those folks might not have known better. Our soldiers should know better. Our soldiers should know that if you are in that unit, you come in uniform and at a formal event, that uniform, ladies, is the skirt. Like it or not, at a formal event, you don’t get the option of wearing pants. And gentlemen, please refrain from sliding your hand up your wife’s thigh at the table. Not cool.

  But over all, it was a good time. I shared a lot of laughs and we remembered some of the fun we had in Iraq, laughing at our mistakes or at others. It was a night of camaraderie and laughs.

  There are some units that you can’t wait to leave. There are others that you will never forget. My current unit is one that I will never forget, and that I will laugh over and remember for the rest of my life. I have a fantastic commander and First Sergeant who are growing into a superb command team. The NCOs I work with are truly great and have potential to grow into the next generation of fantastic senior NCOs.

  I will miss these folks when I move on to my next assignment. It’s a pretty special thing.

  Perseverance

  February 7, 2010

  I WAS SITTING IN Mass today and Father Richard started talking about living in a dark fog. Sometimes, things just keep you down and you can’t see your way through them.

  Kind of like how life has been for the last two months. Well, almost two months. I don’t count the two weeks I spent in Texas without the kids, so I haven’t yet been a mom again for sixty complete days.

  Here’s the thing. I’ve been trying, really trying, just to keep my head above water. And it’s not like I’ve got a ton of stress going on in my life, but it’s the stupid things that are bothering me. I hate traffic. I loathe it. It is the ultimate time-suck and I have to fight Fort Hood traffic every single day, because unless you’re up at 8am, even going to the store involves crowds and lines of cars and bodies all jockeying for a place in the checkout line.

  I’ll do anything to avoid going to the store, but especially when it’s busy. Thankfully, my hubby is cool with that, because well, if I’m not in the store, I’m not shopping. Gone are the days when I’d run to Target for a gallon of milk. Nope. I’m using a list and at the beginning of the week, I’m buying everything I need for the week, to include three gallons of milk.

  I get this tight knot around my chest when I get in crowded places. I start getting frustrated and rude and I don’t like feeling like that. I won’t go to lunch on Fort Hood because of the lines and lines of cars two miles long to get off post. And no, there is no unused gate. All orifices leading to and from Fort Hood suck.

  It’s something so trivial and so stupid and yet, it’s real to me. I simply won’t do it and will do anything to avoid it.

  But it’s not just traffic. I love having my kids around. I’m incredibly glad to be home and be able to take my kid to school and be involved with her education. I love her teacher and she’s adjusted well to being back in Texas, away from the family up in Maine.

  My writing is struggling, as is my ability to think clearly. I’m working my ass off to finish my WIP but, as remains the case with this book, inspiration comes in fits and starts. So I’m not forcing it, I’m working on it as it comes. I’ve discovered that the book I sent out to agents has a massive pacing problem, but fear and the worry that I’m going to once more paint myself as an amateur have kept me from contacting them and pulling the project back. I still have hope that someone will take me on and work with me, but if this book isn’t the one to do that, I’m okay with that.

  I’m frustrated because I had time in Iraq. I had time to write, I had time to read, I had time to work out. Here, there simply isn’t enough time. I have to get up at 5am every day for workout time. And when my kids are awake, it’s all Mommy all the time. By the time they’re in bed, I’m exhausted. I might be awake for an hour after they’re in bed but by 9 or 9:30pm at the latest, I’m toast. How the hell was I working eighteen hours days in Iraq like it was nothing? I don’t know, but I sure as hell have found the cure for insomnia.

  So I’m dealing with a lot and trying to keep up a positive outlook on things. I’ve had days where I would have gotten out of the Army if another opportunity presented itself, but I’m a realist and I enjoy being able to go to the doctor when my kid breaks her arm. I want to be published so badly I can taste it but it seems to remain just out of reach. If this book isn’t the one to do that, then all I can do is write the next book.

  But at the end of it all, if I’m frustrated and tired and remain unpublished, all of these things don’t matter. What matters is that I’m home. For the time being, I get to be a mom and all these other things. I don’t have to go to the store. I don’t have to get angry when I’m in a store.

  Father Richard spoke today of perseverance. Stick with it. You’re going through things now that you might not understand the purpose behind. So I’ll persevere, even when I feel lik
e crawling into bed and pulling the covers over my head. I’ll keep writing and I’ll keep making things normal for my kids and I’ll keep working on achieving that panacea of all working mom’s: balance. Wish me luck!

  Prepping for PBS

  February 8, 2010

  SO A WEEK AGO I received an invitation to participate in the PBS POV Regarding War blog. I started shaking, I was so excited. I mean, it’s a huge deal. This is PBS. So yeah, I’m still a little awestruck.

  My first thought was “Oh, shit, now I have to make sure my unit knows about this.” Little did I know everything that was going to belong to this process. First stop was my company commander. I’d sent him the two pieces I’d submitted to the New York Times, but now that this was going to be an ongoing project instead of random submissions, I really needed to make sure my unit knew I was playing in the public swimming pool. Second stop was to the battalion commander. He thought it was a great idea and I was pleasantly surprised to discover we actually had some of the same thoughts on various topics, such as gays in the military and women in combat.

  Stop number three (and remember all of this is taking place at 1600 on a Tuesday) was to my brigade public affairs officer (PAO). Who wasn’t there. On my way out of the office, I ran into the deputy brigade commander, who thought I looked a little more frazzled than usual. I explained what was going on and he pointed me to the legal office.

  Because apparently, not only do I need to have the PAO review stuff, which I knew, but I didn't realize I needed approval from the lawyers, too. I had no idea I was stepping into fuzzy ethics areas. See, apparently, there are rules about what soldiers can do to make money and with the small honorarium that PBS was going to pay (for those of you that don’t know, an honorarium is a small fee for participating in a project, a token, if you will) I’d stepped into the confusing landscape of the Joint Federal Ethics Regulation. Good times.

  The ultimate decision was reached that, yes, I could participate in the blog, but would have to forego the honorarium. The good folks at PBS had no issues with that clause at all. Also, I was told I had to ensure that while we could tell folks I was in the Army, I could not use any pictures of me in uniform, nor could I use my title. Basically, there could be nothing to imply that my words represented official policy.

  And with that, we’re off. I’ve submitted my intro and my second post to the PAO for approval and am working on the third post. I’m excited to be part of this project because we’ll be discussing women at war, which is something that, even though I might not have been out running the streets, I’ve got a pretty strong recent experience with.

  So I’m thrilled and nervous as hell because my brigade commander is going to be reading everything I submit, which is terrifying. He’s a little intense, to say the least.

  Wish me luck!

  Social Networking for Writers Part 3: Facebook

  February 9, 2010

  SO THERE ARE RULES about Facebook. Friending someone on Facebook is not the same as following someone on Twitter. It’s completely appropriate for you to look at other people’s follow lists on Twitter and follow those people who you deem interesting.

  Facebook, however, is another matter. Because people are on Facebook to truly connect with friends and family, writers and other professionals out there (movie stars, etc) are often stuck between deciding to friend everyone or only friend those they know. If you’re really popular, you can start a Fan page, which has no limits and is a more public place for your persona.

  The first thing you have to do is decide if your Facebook page is public or private. You might think you don’t have to decide this but you do. Because the minute you dip outside private pages (i.e. close, known friends and family) those baby pictures you’ve got up there are available for the world to see. I deliberately don’t post pictures of my children on Facebook or my website. I’ll talk about them all day long, but I’ve seen one too many episodes of To Catch A Predator to be comfortable putting my kids out there for the world to see. Because my Facebook page is public. I use it to connect with other readers and other writers. There are a handful of people on there that I actually know and I’m okay with that. I’m using it as part of my platform, not as a way to keep in touch with friends and family. I prefer email and in that, I believe I am so last decade (sorry, bad joke).

  But you have to decide and when you make that decision you also have to consider just what you are putting out there. What is your message? Who is your audience? And do you really want to talk about that gastrointestinal episode you had in Iraq last week, unless that’s part of your message (yes, I had dysentery every other week in Iraq and I just had to share because that was part of my and most every other soldiers’ experience in Iraq that most folks don’t think about).

  But for writers looking to connect with their readers, Facebook is a must. And—and this might get me in trouble—I see no problem with writers looking to connect with other authors and readers, connecting via other people’s friends lists.

  To a point.

  As you go through and find people to friend, use the rule of mutual friends. If you have more than ten friends in common, odds are this person will friend you back. However, if you’re on a New York Times bestselling author’s friend page and you see that you have one friend in common, odds are that person is a real friend and not a Facebook friend. So don’t cross that line and friend them. If they ask who you are, explain yourself politely and leave it at that. And if they get nasty, it’s best not to respond. Nastiness will be a part of your life as a writer, be it a negative review or a rude ”fan mail” letter. Say it with me now, “no matter how rage inducing, do not respond.”

  Figuring out your Facebook presence is important for a writer. If you do it deliberately, you’ll be able to work on consolidating your platform and building your public presence, all with the goal of connecting with potential readers.

  Fear of the Blank Page

  February 10, 2010

  SOMETHING HAS HAPPENED TO me and I’m not sure what. It might be that the rejection list is growing. It might be that I wrote a lot in Iraq and was hoping to have something to show for it, other than rejections (and when I say that, I’m strictly referring to the fiction side of the house. The nonfiction seems to coming along nicely, if accidentally).

  I finally finished my revisions on my first paranormal and fired it off to my beloved critique partner, Julie, who is squeezing in time to hack it via hard copy.

  I wanted to start on the next book. I still need to finish Monster, which is about 10K-15K from the end. And once more, I find myself, well, stuck. I love the idea behind Monster. I think it might be the first book that I’ve written that doesn’t require a complete do-over to get a workable plot. And yet, this is probably the hardest book I’ve ever written. It comes in fits and starts. I jam on it for a few days, then take a month off but the story remains, nagging at the edge of my brain.

  So I’m getting there. But then what? I’ve got other books to revise but I’m seriously considering moving beyond everything I wrote in Iraq and starting something new.

  But nothing’s coming. I keep getting these great ideas but they’re all just kind of bouncing around with no spark demanding they hit the page. I’m sure I could write them, if I, oh, I don’t know, had a contract or something. Or maybe an agent. Yeah, someone to say, this will work, write this.

  Cause I’ve written and I’ve written and I’ve written but I don’t have a direction right now. I’m lacking purpose because you see, I had a purpose. Then I received a Facebook note that summed up a lot for me: “I’ve no interest to read about war, romance or otherwise.”

  What if there aren’t a lot of books out there like mine because, well, no one wants to read them? That’s sobering, huh? Kind of takes the wind out of your sails.

  But I’m okay with that even. I’m digging into my religion degree and writing my paranormal and I love being able to justify reading Jewish legends and lore as research for a book. But the ne
w book won’t start. Actually, it started, but fear, that rat bastard, is stopping me.

  See, I have a problem with plotting. I don’t do it. Funny, when I rewrite a book, it comes together into a decent plot (at least that’s what I keep telling myself), but that first draft? Total shit. In that I don’t even bother sending them out to my critique partner because, well, she’s too busy to waste time reading my first draft shit.

  But as I stare at the blank pages of the Dreaded New Novel, I’m afraid. I want to reach a point where I don’t have to write the whole book over. And what if I write this book, then rewrite it, and then it still doesn’t sell? On the other hand, maybe that’s just my process. Maybe I need to rewrite the whole book so I can find what the story is really about and I need to take a 100,000 word detour to figure it out. Sure makes writing a synopsis sound a little better, huh?

  So I’m not sure what’s going to happen. I’m researching book two. I’m pretty sure I’ve got my main plot points (in that I know the last sentence, if that counts). And I know what happened between the characters before the book started (at least there’s a rough idea of it fleshed out in my Scrivener window). So I’m not sure where this is going but I do know that I need to figure out a way to deal with the Fear of the Blank Page.

  I’ll muddle through, I always do. But fearing the blank page? Yeah, not used to that.

  Contest Comments from Hell

  February 10, 2010

  SO I WAS ON my way home from Iraq and I figured I’d go ahead and throw the manuscript into a contest. I mean, the book had gotten me an agent and it was in waaay worse shape then than it is now. What the hell, it couldn’t hurt, right?

  Wrong.

  Well, I just got those contest entries back today and I got hammered. Badly. Like beaten soundly around the head, neck, and shoulders with a blunt object beaten. Which, of course, has me wondering what the hell is going on.