Something rare and wonderful is happening. I can't explain it fully. A dream . . . a hope appears to be coming true.

Anticipation

Wind howling past me

Approaching the precipice
Hoping I will fly.

Will my wings be strong enough?

No way of knowing . . . just leap.

Today I will . . . our paths cross. Congratulations, Peter.

Does anyone remember the post “Other Dreamers–Life Changes  I did way back in April 2013? I never mentioned the video blogger by name. Today I will. Because ou see this year our paths crossed. I will publish my first story this year and today. . . today he graduated from medical school.

Meet Peter Wingfield MD  .

Peter Michael Wingfield M.D. 
University of Vermont College of Medicine
May 17, 2015



I guess I could  just respond to his tweet. I know he will at some point today. Maybe when he comes down from his high. I know he’ll have that, too.

But one hundred and forty characters are simply not enough when words want to spill out and over the restricted space. Peter Wingfield has been one of my favorite actors for a long time, even if I've only been an "official" fan for less than five years. With rare exception I always liked what he acted in and, even in that rare exception, enjoyed his performances. In 2011, he upped  my respect for him by re-entering medical school at the age of 48. Yes, a brave man.

I’m an experienced RN and have primarily worked in true teaching hospitals, the ones where you can watch confused, nervous med students and residents turn into confident practitioners. It’s a marvelous thing to watch. It’s also stressful, heart-breaking, and maddening.

Yes, I wrote this in his freshman/sophomore year of med school. I knew he was going to do it, you see. Never a doubt in my mind.

Residency is coming, I know, July 1st – a red letter day in almost all teaching hospitals with flocks of new long white coats invading the hallways. Oh, the memories the date evokes. Eager, enthusiastic, stoic, bewildered, anxious. The facial expressions run the gamit. "Excuse me, how do I page this person?" "How do I get to radiology from here?" In some ways, it reminds me of a gaggle of puppies.

I almost wish I could be the nurse on his first rotation who goes up to him and says, “Doctor, I’m concerned about. . .”, just to see if he will look quickly over his shoulder to see who I am talking to, then realize he’s the doctor I’m talking to! I’ve seen that double-take. . . so many times and it never failed to make me smile. Will he react that way? I actually don’t believe he will but I think he’ll feel the moment. I wonder, Peter, if you will share some of that inner dialogue with us? Perhaps not, it’s time to fly.

 I have been told Peter would like to continue meeting up with fans but I think we will see even less of him, if at all. Medical school is not a walk in the park but residency is grueling almost to the point of brutal. Peter isn’t going into general surgery or any of its sub-specialties where I have most of my experience but . . . no. Other things must come first: his training, his family, his health. The prediction makes me a little sad, I must be honest, but when I think of this warm, compassionate man out in the world as a physician I can only give an enthusiastic arm-pump and say, “YES!”

 

Well done, Peter. . . Well Done.

And my most sincere congratulations to the entire 2015 graduating class of  the University of Vermont College of Medicine.

 

Writer's Questions, the DFW Writers Convention, & a Snippet from "Snow"

Designed at Bitstrips



It's spring. After all this mind-crackling, bone-fracturing cold, it is spring. I suppose most people are cavorting with great abandon with the vernal equinox, warmer temperatures, and the promises of blooming flower beds. I love the season, too. But something comes with it.

With spring comes something else on the all-too-soon horizon. The DFW Writers Convention is coming up and , yes, I'm going again. Will I pitch Snow, my current WIP? I don't know. I have a pitch session scheduled again. I will research the agents I've asked for. Look at their biographies. Chase down their tweets. Read their blogs. Oh, I'll look for every piece of information I can find on them. I don't know which one of my three choices I will end up with.

I'm not as anxious as I was last year. The situation could change as the date grows closer. But I did manage to get through a pitch last year. Strange, isn't it? Someone who expresses themselves best in written form attempting to express it in spoken form---and evaluated accordingly. To me, it is very strange. Even in my former profession I hated doing performance art; although they called it BCLS, ACLS, and Clinical Competencies.

But the pitch for Snow will depend on whether I finish the rough draft in time. I don't like the idea of pitching something that isn't complete. If it isn't complete by then I suppose I use the time just to natter and ask questions.

Now there's a quandary. An odd one for me. I've labeled myself a Pochemuchka (Russian for someone who asks a lot of questions) but I'm afraid when it comes to asking actual people actual questions which would do me some good----I am terrible. It's so important to have the right questions. So what questions? I will only have ten minutes. Those questions will be the most difficult things I have ever written. I think finishing the rough draft of Snow will be easier.

So I think I will share a scene from Snow. An excerpt, not a snippet. This is one of the first scenes I wrote for it. Yes, it's one of the pivotal points. And , if summarized like a logline, it can be read almost like a comedy. I dislike writers who explain their writing but I will simply say Snow is not a comedy, romantic or otherwise. It is a love story and this scene happens midway.

More Music to Write By

I've posted this on Facebook so I guess I will go ahead and blog it. At the end of the tunnel a light glows, pale and ghostly but there. Only a few chapters of Rain remain on my "revision" list. When those are completed I will give them a final run-through then stuff them into a file called "Completed Chapters-Rain" and let out a big sigh of relief.

After that I will be converting it into a complete PDF file for a friend who has been bugging me about it. Trust me, if Rain comes out in more traditional form she will be buying it! And I will ask another friend if she would like a copy.

A query letter will be written after that as I start down the list, sending Rain out into the publishing ether. I'm not really looking forward to that. Oh, not the getting it out there part! The query letter writing part I'm sure will have me gnawing at my remaining three fingernails. And I've been trying so long to grow some!

But this post is entitled "More Music to Write By" so how about some theme music? Yes, I have a completed (for the most part) soundtrack for both Rain and Snow. This one is one I discovered for Rain many months ago and I thought it would be appropriate here. Yes, it caught my ear then my eye when I saw the title.

 

 

 

DFW Writers Conference Precis

Last weekend I attended the DFW Conference in Hurst. I remember attending another writing conference in the metroplex back in the 90's so I cannot say with certainty it was my first writing conference. But I believe I will consider my first.

 First I'd like to say I've already signed up for next year's conference. What can I say? I'm a glutton for punishment and a total cheapskate. Till the end of the month it's only $200. It will go up to 300 after that then up to 400.

Glutton for punishment? Basically speaking I was totally wiped out both days. I didn't go to the mixer on Saturday and by the end of lunch on Sunday I looked at my friend, Charlotte, and said "I'm brain dead." She agreed with me and we skipped out on the last afternoon. Not there wasn't anything I wanted to attend or thought wouldn't teach me something. I just couldn't absorb one more particle---even with caffeine.

I did two very difficult things for me and didn't realize how draining it would be. I made a pitch and I presented a work in progress at a limited seating (read participant) workshop for critique by a publisher and a literary agent.

Yes, the agent at my pitch was very nice. No, I didn't do it very well. But that wasn't the point or goal for me. My goal was simply to do one. "Run it up the flagpole and see who salutes" in a manner of speaking. I didn't expect to win the publishing "lottery". So when he said he wasn't interested it was no big deal. I did it. That was the biggie.

The workshop was more stressful. "Snow" is a work in progress but I have never put out my work to others in such a manner. I have beta readers and had even gotten back feedback from my primary reader before I ever went to the conference. Putting out something orally and getting immediate verbal feedback I have discovered is extremely stressful. I think I would rather walk down S. Hulen dressed in a shower curtain. But, once again, there has to be a first time for everything and I did get through it. I did get some constructive feedback. But when you're only allowed 2 pages how much can you expect? I  would pay extra to have a much smaller group and be able to present a chapter. Ah, one can dream, yes?

Wiped out and lesson learned. Despite my friendly manner (dare I say cocky?) I am an introvert at the core and keeping myself leashed and on task for two extremely daunting tasks demolished me.

I like the historical research presentation and got a few ideas I hadn't considered before. I loved meeting other writers. Finding other folks my age who were also writing was wonderful. I like not being the Lone Ranger. [Bitty, I tried to find you before I left! Darn it! Next year?]

So, yes, again next year. Less business, more craft. Well, maybe I'll pitch again but perhaps I'll put that decision off for awhile. Hey, practice makes perfect. Wouldn't you agree? After all, I  don't have years to waste.

Other Dreamers--Life Changes

Some weeks ago on Facebook there was a video posting from someone I follow. I can't say I'm actually a "friend" or acquaintance; we’ve actually never met (and I seriously doubt my name is even known) but I enjoy his postings. Heck, they make me laugh out loud and/or spurt coffee through my nose if I'm not careful. I look forward to them, knowing I'm going to smile or laugh and getting to know him just a little bit better. I like the last part, too. I'm always curious about people.

We have something in common. Both of us have had reasonably successful careers then decided to go back to something we loved but did not complete or follow up on. What makes it ironic, to me anyway, is that what we are changing to. I’m going from a health care profession to a more expressive one---fiction writing ; he is going from an expressive one in the performing arts to--- a health care profession. One of the most demanding ones, too. It is a 180 degree turn for the both of us, from the highly competitive to the highly sought after for him and vice versa for me. I cannot help but wonder at the stories we could tell each other as we pass each other on that road. I know the ones I would tell him if I could.

Some folks might describe such career or life changes as a mid-life crisis but I really  hate the term ‘crisis’.  The term is such a negative one, associated with fear, unexpected change, and other negatives. Pshaw! Yes, it’s scary; I suspect it is for both of us but I don’t think the change came slamming down on us like a full blown code at the change of  shift (a simile from my old profession).  No,  I think completely otherwise.

For myself it wasn’t a sudden, wake-up-in-the-morning kind of thing. I wrote in junior high and high school, even if my teachers didn’t see the half of it. Through first love and marriage to this day I have kept a poetry journal. Little stories made their way into my letters and I was always scribbling first paragraphs.  There are hundreds of nurses who declare they hate to write narrative notes--- I was never one of them. I hated the fact I had to fight for the time to write them. And, yes, I got excited when one of my doctors actually referred to (or complimented me on) one of my notes. You noticed? You read it? Thank you! Would you like my first born or will cookies do?

After my husband died in the early 90’s I started another first paragraph which was followed by another paragraph then another. The next thing I realized  I was writing a story. I also realized it was one of the most satisfying things I had ever done. Oh, I can tell stories about similar satisfaction about specific patients I worked with but it was very different. Several chapters later I had to return to work and the book was shelved under the pressure of everyday life. But it was not forgotten. The rest of that particular story is in the very first entry of this blog.

My Internet ‘acquaintance’? I don’t know if the decision was slow in forming or not but knowing him to be both intelligent and thoughtful I am fairly certain it was not a sudden one. It’s a question I would dearly love to ask. But a mid-life crisis? Bah! I don't think so.
 

Perhaps some day I will have an opportunity to ask that question. Perhaps there will be an opportunity to exchange stories. I would like that. Life is full of possibilities, is it not?