This is also Disney and as much as I want my kids to have a trip that they’ll remember with me and their Daddy before my hubby heads back to Iraq after Christmas, I also am a realist. By lunchtime on day two, they’re going to be cranky, hot, tired, and exhibiting behavior that will make me want to leave the entire trip three days early.
I haven’t over-planned. In fact, in the entire week, there are only two events that we have to cancel early or be charged for. Everything else is a free-for-all. Whatever happens, happens. I don’t have anything that I have to see at Disney. But RWA? Yeah, there’s a lot I want to see and a bunch I want to do and I realistically know that I’m going to be lucky to have Thursday afternoon to actually do anything writing-related.
But I’m determined to relax. There will be time at the pool letting the kids splash while I sip something alcoholic (I’ve given up drinking but am reasonably certain this trip is going to make me start again). I want to chill out and have a good time and remember my first RWA conference as the one at which I managed to have an utterly and completely good time.
Wish me luck. Tomorrow, we get to Disney world. Let the Wild Rumpus Start!
The Best Person at RWA Nationals
August 1, 2010
GETTING READY FOR THIS event was beyond stressful. When I say there was crying and screaming and gnashing of the teeth, there was. It was absolutely brutal in so many, unbelievable ways. The first night there, I wanted to leave and not even bother being there.
Part of the problem was that I was incredibly nervous about meeting all the folks who supported me over the last couple years, through Iraq and back again. Honestly, meeting every single person there was a phenomenal experience that I will blog about later.
No, the best person in the entire conference was someone who didn’t want to be here, who spent most of it pissed off and irritated and stressed out because there were two tired, over-stimulated kids who probably never should have come.
The best person here was my husband. Not only did he smile when I told him that the meeting with my agent went spectacularly, not only did he kiss me when I was walking out the door to go to a party while he was trying to put the cranky kids to bed, he also washed laundry. He fed and bathed and entertained our kids while I walked around dazed and pretending to have it all together and that everything was just fine when inside, I felt like I was one false word from having a fabulous shoe down my throat.
My husband has just spent a week with the kids each afternoon so that I could meet other writers, spend time getting to know my agent, and meet people after hours in the bar. My husband made me laugh when I wanted to cry and smiled when I squealed about meeting Nora Roberts.
He hates stuff like this. He hates being in a hotel room, trapped with the kids running around like banshees. But tonight, the kids were crying, I was stressed out because I couldn’t get my bra to look right with my dress and my husband is unhooking it with me half-ready to cry because I’m going to be late. And he gets me fixed, kisses me, and says good luck.
And before you say I’m setting back feminism a hundred years by thanking my husband for doing something that I do every single day, let me expound just a titch. Since we’ve been back from Iraq, it’s been the Mommy Show. Every night, my kids want me to put them to bed. They want me there, even if I’m just giving them a kiss and a pat on the head before I tuck their blankets around them. So when I’m not there, my husband has to deal with two babies who are not only tired but stressed because they’re not quite understanding that Mommy really is just downstairs. For my hubby to step up to the plate so that I could step out, literally, to mingle with publishing people, was pretty awesome.
This man is man of the year in my book. I love him even more because he went through all of this to help me have an amazing first conference. I am so incredibly lucky to have him, hooking my bra as I run out the door, and smiling when I tell him that yes, I am going to sell a book this year.
Thank you, honey, for supporting me when all you wanted to do was scream. I love you.
Transitions
August 4 2010
I’VE BEEN TRYING TO get the words right to describe my first conference but it seems like nothing has stopped long enough for me to actually get them down. My agent wants another synopsis for a second book. I just sold another article to the RWA magazine. In the last three days, I’ve written over ten thousand words and I’m sitting here, staring at the book I so desperately need to finish and...
Nothing.
I’m not stuck. I know where the story is going. I know what comes next. I even have the scene partially sketched out in my brain. But as I sit here, I have a feeling inside me that I don’t know how to deal with. I don’t even know what to call it. I’m edgy, because everything is going so well in the writing field at the moment. I’m antsy because I get to stay at Fort Hood and take command in October and that is going to be the biggest challenge of my military career. I’m wrung out about my daughter starting school again in a few weeks. I’m worried about doing it all when my husband deploys again.
I feel like I’m not going to sit still for the next two years.
I need to write another five thousand words today. I need to write an article for Empowering Parents. I need to go school clothes shopping and clean out my daughters’ old clothes. I need to schedule a DA Photo and take the local commander’s course. I need to get my command philosophy written and come up with a schedule for my first thirty days in command, to make sure that everyone gets counseled, that everyone understands my intent and that there is no doubt that even though I’m a junior captain, I’m still the commander. I’m nervous about meeting my First Sergeant and signing into my new unit. I’m nervous about standing in front of that formation and taking the guidon.
When writers say they don’t have time to read your book, they’re not kidding. When I think about everything that I need to do, I’m a little crazy. There simply is no way to do it all. At least not all in one day.
So as I sit here, thinking about everything I need to do, I’m going to do nothing. I’m going to go for a walk. It’s a hundred and four but I’m going for a walk. To clear my head and regain my focus and figure out a way to get back after it.
It Turns Out, You Can Polish a Turd
August 10, 2010
PRIOR TO DEPARTING FOR the RWA National Conference, I spent an inordinate amount of time worrying (okay, obsessing if you must) about what I was going to wear. It kept me up at night, worried that I was going to be underdressed or overdressed or somewhere way out in left field. My business casual is usually ACUs and combat boots, minimal makeup, and my hair pulled back in a bun.
To say that I couldn’t go to RWA in uniform was an understatement of biblical proportions. That said, I worried. I walked into Ann Taylor and found one of the girls who worked there. I said, “Writers’ conference, business casual, thirty minutes, go.” And forty minutes later, walked out of there with some fabulous shoes and several outfits.
None of which I wore. Okay, I wore two of the dresses and received a lot of compliments on both. I was surprisingly comfortable in both outfits, something I haven’t been in a dress in a looong time. My shoes were another ball game but after band aids, some duct tape, and a couple of cotton balls, I made it through just fine in those, too. Course, I had some nice, sparkly flip flops that I was able to use to dress up a couple of outfits, which gave my poor dogs a rest.
All in all, I ended up more comfortable than I thought possible in girly clothes. I bought stuff that I wouldn’t normally wear and ended up wearing things that I would. Turns out, comfort equals confidence and because I wasn’t stressing about my clothes, I was able to enjoy the conversations I was part of without worrying about what my ass looked like in a dress. Turns out, I can clean up pretty well, minus a last minute panic about the so-called clear bra strap not being in the right place on my dress.
But at the end of it all, I over-packed because I was so stressed out about what to wear. I liter
ally had a suitcase full of clothes, three garment bags full of dry cleaning, six pairs of shoes and practically a suitcase full of makeup. Maybe what I should have done is worked on my pitch or spent a little more time on my business cards. Maybe I should have figured out what I wanted to get out of conference before I got there.
But looking back on my conference experience, I realize that I was dressed perfectly for me, that yes, I over- packed and under-prepared but I still had a blast. I met tons of people, including several editors who were interested in my story and, had I had a book ready to go, might have been able to submit right off the bat. At the end of it all, I think it’s better that I didn’t have something to pitch. I could simply talk and enjoy the conversation and be comfortable in my own skin around a few thousand women.
It was well worth the trip.
The Commander’s Reading List
August 11, 2010
NOTHING USED TO DRIVE me crazier than when my company commanders would dictate that there would be nothing but professional reading in xx location. That location could be the office, it could be the field site, on shift, or it could even be in Iraq or Afghanistan.
It used to drive me batshit crazy because I believe in balance. Forcing soldiers to read nothing but TMs and FMs and other professional reading would guarantee they would all go nuts or come up with more creative ways to hide what they were really reading.
Now that I’m fixing to be a commander, however, and have about fifteen more years of experience in the Army, I can at least look back and say, yes, I understand why they made rules like that. But the only thing I can see that it accomplishes is pissing people off and making them lie to you.
As I get ready to take company command, I’ve somewhat stepped into the other side of looking at things. Okay, not really because I will tell you that I love to read professional reads all day long, but sometimes, I need to curl up with a J. K. Beck or an Allison Brennan to give my brain a chance to recover. I am not suggesting that romance and other popular fiction is mind-numbing, not in the least, but it requires that I relax and enjoy the read rather than have my subconscious trying to figure out how to implement what I’m reading into policy or procedures.
That said, I’m not quite sure how the boss will feel if she comes across my soldiers reading Maxim in the JNN. So I will have to finesse this policy as it grows. But, that said, I believe that if soldiers are in college and they are doing professional reading on their own (and their boss knows about it) then what’s the harm in letting them read the Silver Surfer comic?
I’m building my professional reading list for my company. I say for my company because my junior sergeants and my staff sergeants are one day going to be my sergeants first class or my master sergeants. My specialists might one day head to OCS and become lieutenants. So at the end of it all, every soldier needs a professional development plan, not just my officers and senior NCOs. I already have a master’s degree so I’m going to be pretty upset if my boss counsels me that I have to go to school. But if I didn’t have any college? I’m going to be pretty upset if my NCOs aren’t counseling all my soldiers to get their butts into college or professional development programs.
I’ve got smart soldiers in my company. I know this. I’m taking a signal company that I’m hearing nothing but amazing things about.
But every organization can be better and the only way to improve the organization is by improving the soldiers. So my guys are going to be bent out of shape when I say that all NCOs and E4-promotables will be doing some form of professional development. I want a plan that will serve as a contract between the sergeant and his supervisor. There will be exceptions, of course, but those who fail to take advantage of a command climate that fully supports professional development will be hurt by it later.
So, as I’m building my professional reading list for my juniors and my seniors, I’m looking at the different things that I needed to know as a sergeant versus what I wished I’d known as a sergeant first class. Those things are different but by having my sergeants on a reading list, I will be laying the foundations for them to become better senior leaders when they do step into those shoes.
Online Actions, Real Life Consequences
August 14, 2010
I’VE HAD THIS BLOG in the background for some time, because I couldn’t figure out what the right time was to post it.
Today, I’m talking about comments. Yesterday, I watched two people essentially start a flame war. Multiple hurtful comments were made and I took the time to chime in, specifically because of this blog I’ve had building.
Basically, I drew on my experiences in the online world, telling about some of the harsher comments that an agent made about me on her blog and some of the comments made in response to my PBS and New York Times pieces. I drew on those illustrations and pointed out, however, that I chose to seek to be a public figure and in doing so, gave everyone the right to say “who does this bitch think she is?” I also pointed out that the group had the potential to be damaged by what was going on and that we all needed to consider our actions online.
I am reasonably certain one of the individuals involved is no longer speaking to me. This saddens me because I have lost someone who I considered a friend. But it is her choice and I have lost other friends in the past. She, like the others, will be missed but I will not lose sleep if she cannot see how her actions might be used as a lesson to better the group.
That being said, I fully accept that what I wrote is the cause of her choice.
But the bottom line is that I posted something online with real world consequences.
Back in 2007, I was getting ready to go to Officer Candidate School at Fort Benning. In preparation, there was a message board where candidates could meet up, ask questions about getting ready for the course and generally share their knowledge to help others prepare.
This is good, right? Yeah. For the most part, it was incredibly helpful. I was able to find my way around Benning, get some good pointers on what to study and generally feel a little more prepared.
About three weeks into the course, most of us had stopped hanging out at the message board because we were too busy and the limited access to the internet that we had was used for college or quick emails to loved ones scattered around the globe.
But one of my illustrious classmates decided one day to post on the site about how class was too easy, that our whole company was a joke, and he expected everything to be much harder than it was.
Well, guess who else read those message boards? The cadre, including the company commander. So he got up in front of the entire company and told us that because some of us had too much time on our hands, we were collectively going to have to deal with the consequences.
The opportunity came up for me to talk to said classmate about what happened and his rationale was stunning. He said that the post should have no impact in real life on the rest of the company because it was posted online. The commander should not punish everyone because of an online comment. It wasn’t like he’d said it out loud, so he shouldn’t be charged with disrespect. It was meant to get attention and it worked.
Really? Online actions don’t have real world consequences?
I think every single one of us can look at a tweet we posted or a Facebook message or text or an email and go, “Damn, I shouldn’t have said that.” I’ve done it many times and I am absolutely certain that some of these actions are going to come back and I will be held to account for them. And when that time comes, I will accept full responsibility for what I’ve said and not said, done and not done. These are my choices.
And for the record, for those who think that one comment can be blown way out of proportion, I say read the Rolling Stone article on GEN McChrystal. A couple of offhand remarks changed the entire face of the war. This was not to that magnitude in any way shape or form, but to dismiss it as one off color remark ignores the power of what we say and write.
One of the things I am counseling all of my leaders on in
my company is that they need to be aware of their entire appearance, online, on the weekends, and in front of their soldiers. As a general rule for my lieutenants and my soldiers I say this: would you say to a person’s face what you are about to write? How would you feel if someone you admire and respected read what you are about to write? And how would you feel if someone said it to you, in a public forum?
Your actions matter. Your choices matter. And the decisions and comments you make every day online matter. In that, I am sorry I have lost a friend. But I considered the benefit of the group over the benefit or risk to the individual. That may not have been my place in the group. I am not one of the leaders but I saw an opportunity to use this to better the group as a whole. It sucks that it has had this impact but you know what? I knew it going in.
The only thing I ask is that you consider the real world consequences to your next key stroke. Because those consequences do exist and they are very, very real.
Military Mom and the First Day of School
August 23, 2010
LAST YEAR, I WAS sitting in Iraq, crying my eyes out as my little girl came home from her first day of kindergarten. I remember sitting in my CHU (containerized housing unit), listening as my mom held her on her lap. She wouldn’t talk because she was exhausted from school. I could practically see her curled up on my mom’s lap on the porch, just listening to my voice and my husband’s voice from halfway around the world.
When we came home from Iraq, she started a new school, halfway through the school year. Within a day, she hated school, hated going, didn’t want to get up in the morning. All of it. I won’t lie and tell you coming home and getting her back into school down here in Texas was easy. It wasn’t. In fact, it was pretty close to hell. My husband and I thought about pulling her out of Kindergarten and putting her back into pre-K. We thought about getting her tested. We talked about counseling.
The Long Way Home Page 12