Places on Earth: Priest Lake, Idaho

I didn't travel far, and I didn't stay long, but this quick trip went straight to my soul. I didn't take a plane or my passport. I took a short drive, a canoe and a backpack. And of all the places I've been so far, this one is my favorite.

My husband and I loaded the canoe with gear and paddled into white caps on the lower lake. The waves were never big enough to tip us, but it was slow going against the wind and water. For a while, it felt like the lake wanted us to turn around before we discovered its secret.

The upper lake flows through a causeway to the lower lake. I had just finished singing Last of the Mohicans when the water quieted and we discovered that a piece of the Costa Rican jungle had been transplanted into Idaho. Yes, the trees and wildlife were different, but the amount of green was the same. The pictures don't do justice to how the water glowed green. After the rolling lake, the still water made us feel like we'd found something sacred. Watching it was like witnessing art--the whirls and wakes as the oars passed through the water, the line behind the family of Canada geese.

Everywhere we looked, mama ducks were busy with their ducklings. Who doesn't love tiny little duck bums sticking up in the air? I wished I could see their sweet webbed feet churning like mad under the water to keep up with mama. We paddled for an hour and a half, but it wasn't long enough.

The animal sounds were different than Costa Rica, but just as loud. Peace and quiet? Not really, just animal neighborhood sounds instead of people neighborhood sounds. During the night, a lonely grouse dude was flapping an insanely fast beat with his wings, trying to get a date. He was still at it when we woke up, poor guy. We heard a splash and saw a falcon taking off with a fish, and watched a bald eagle circle.

I love people. I really do. But I've never been so happy to not see any. Occasionally, a boat glided quietly past, leaving nothing but ripples in the no-wake zone. Other than that, we were the last two people on the planet, and this was ours.

This tree could have been Costa Rican, too, though it's roots were exposed because of erosion, not because it liked to grow that way. Most perfect fort ever made. 

This, this was the moment, though. I stood for an hour with my toes in warm sand, deciding whether to dive into the sky, or fly into the water.                                           

Idaho, people. Idaho.

Salad Donuts and Sock Pants

A few of you may have seen my occassional Whit of the Day posts on Facebook. I realized I hadn't recorded them all in one place, so I've been gathering them up and thought I'd try to make you smile.  

Whit at Two:

Reading a book together:
"Look, Whit, a parrot."
"It's a owl."
"Nope. It's a parrot. Can you say parrot?"
"It's a owl." 
"It looks like an owl, but it's a parrot."
"It's a eagle."
"Nope. It's a parrot."
"It's a eagle."
"It looks like an eagle, but it's a parrot."
"It's a bird."
"N... yep. Fine. It's a bird."


Whit at Three:

Josh teaching the kids Chinese words at the dinner table. 
Whit: "You know how to say Halloween in Chinese? RAAAAAAAAAAAWWWRRRRR!"

"Mom, you're REALLY old. You're so really older than me, you're old enough to drive a car. That's really old."

"Mom, I used your check-o-scope to listen to the kitty's heart beep."

As we drive- "Hey, Mom, is that a church?"
"Yup."
"Do you have to sit down?"
"Yup."
"That's the boringest." A few moments of silence. "But Jesus doesn't mind."


Whit has his shirt off, points at his nipples and asks, "What are these things called?"
"What do you think they're called?"
"Pom poms?"

Papa and Whit fishing. "Papa, if you take off all the skin of the fish, is he naked?" 

“Mom, are you putting on lipstick eyes?" (eyeshadow)
"Yep."
"How come you want your eyes to be beautiful?"
"So Daddy will want to kiss me. Whadaya think about that?"
-pause- "Gross."

Playing with the humidifier-
"See, you turn this button and smoke comes out! See! Look at this feetacular machine!"

Josh eating a bagel sandwich.
Whit: "Can I have a bite of your salad donut?"

Making spritz cookies with Mimmie and Papa, points to the dough...
"Can I eat that?"
"No, that's for spritz cookies."
Whit stares at Papa. "Who's Sprit?"

Whit says to Mimmie, "I made the earth."
Mimmie- "Oh, I thought that was somebody else."
"Well, Jesus helped."

After spending some time with Papa, Whit wanted to tell me one of Papa's farm stories.
"Papa had a brother and a dog and a wagon. When they sayed . . . (tapping chin)...sig'um, the dog ran. They tied the dog to the wagon, and Papa was the . . . (thinking) . . . the try-dumber, and he got in the wagon and his brother said, 'sig'um!' So the dog ran and the dog went under the fence, and the wagon went under the fence and Papa went . . . ppweht."

Me- "Where are you Whit?"
"I'm in the living room. Hey, is living. . . watching TV?"
"No, that's not living."
"Oh. Then I might die."


"I'm glad you shaved your beard off Dad."
"Really? How come?"
"Because it's just....normal-er. And I can kiss you easier."


Whit had the blues at bedtime. I pulled the blanket I made him up to his chin and said, "I made you this because I love you." Next came Mimmie's quilt. "And Mimmie loves you." Then Nana's monkey blanket. "And Nana loves you."
His chin quivered, then he burst into tears. "I'm just crying because I love the people who love me."

Whit at four: *mere seconds after we leave the parking lot* 
Whit: "I have to go! Really badly!"
Mom and Dad in unison: "Ugggghhh! Why didn't you tell us that in the store?!"
Whit: "Because I like to make you go, Ugggghhh!"

While doing Whit's hair-- "There. What do you think?"
"It's too nerd-like. And my head looks like a nut."


Addie:

Cannon lost his first tooth. It ended up in a tiny plastic box on the kitchen table, which Addie had to clear for dinner. "I just feel really uncomfortable holding a piece of my brother's head."


Weezie at Two:
"I tooted."
"Hee hee. What do you say?"
"I tooted again."

As I'm putting Weezie's tights on her: "I like deez sock pants."

Dad: "Look at Mommy run, Weezie! She's fast!"
Weezie (who does not pronounce all her S's): "Ya! Mama fat like a dinosaur! Rawr!"
Mom: "Hey!!"

Whit: "You can't wait for an idea. You have to think for an idea. Duh."

Josh and kids playing a pass-it-on story-telling game.

Josh: A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...
Addie: There was a 70 foot tall unicorn!
Cannon: Who's farts smelled like rotten tomatoes!
Whit: And his horn was on FIIIIRRRRRREE!!

And now you know my family, and why they're my best friends. 

Boys Read About Girls

I read a blog post by one of my favorite authors, Shannon Hale, and it made me cry. Please read it. The link is right here and you need to know about this.

 No Boys Allowed: School visits as a woman writer

After reading, I tried an experiement. I asked my eight-year-old son if he wanted to read Little House in the Big Woods, a childhood favorite of mine. My heart sank as he got an incredulous look on his face. I willed him not to say the words, but out they came:

"But it's about a girl."

It wasn't his fault, and it wasn't completely mine. But it wasn't going to happen ever again. We had a heart-to-heart about why it's silly to think his older sister could read books about boys, but he couldn't read books about girls. We talked about how much he likes Hermione Granger. We talked about how scary and wrong it is when people think girls aren't as good as boys.

We've never taught "boy books" and "girl books" in our home, but somehow I'm still un-teaching it. And it's about so much more than just giving a gender to a book. This is about my son's views of women.

After we talked, I handed him my beloved, yellowed copy of Little House in the Big Woods, a birthday gift from my grandparents. He held it like the treasure it is and smiled when he found my grandma's note and my name plate and stamp on the inside. "I think you'll really like Laura," I said.

He devoured that book in less than a week, and my heart healed. The other day I handed him a copy of Clementine by Sara Pennypacker. I did not say, "Even though this is about a girl, I think you'll like it." I did not say, "I think you should read this because it's about a girl." He held out his hands for his big sister's copy of Clementine, and I said, "I think you'll really like her." And he does. She cracks him up.

Now I have a list of books to place in his path that I hope will teach him to love good writing and powerful characters so much that he won't pay any attention to "girl" or "boy". I may not be able to change the shaming that might take place if he were to take a book with a girl on the cover to school, but I can make our home a safe place where good books are celebrated, and not assigned gender.

How I Got an Agent in Ten Easy (Ha!) Steps

Step One:

Step Two: I wrote. And I learned about writing. It made me do this:

Step Three: I let my critique group and beta readers tell me what parts they liked, but most importantly, what parts were garbage in my beloved novel. At first, it made me do this:

Step Four: I learned more about writing. 

Step Five: I rewrote or deleted the garbage parts. At first it felt like this:

Now it's more like this:

Step Six: I wrote a query letter. It was harder than writing a novel. Okay, not really, just less fun. I read every query letter ever written on this planet and seven others to try to make mine better. I read agent and writer blog posts to find out what hooked them in a query. I had my query edited and critiqued, I swore at it, I apologized and gave it chocolate, and we came to an understanding. This is Version 43.2 that I finally settled on. It's not even close to perfect, but it did the trick. 

Dear Rachel Marks,

I discovered on the Quick Brown Fox blog that you’re seeking YA fiction. I hope you’ll be interested in my YA time travel novel, TIME WALKER, first in a series and complete at 97,500 words.

For Time Walkers, death is temporary and youth can last forever. But Rachel’s mom never mentions that, and Rachel never tells her mom about the hallucinations. It’s like the universe is trying to vacuum her up. She’s losing her mind, her track career, and her friends. Just when she thinks she’s found the center of the black hole, she lives the worst—and last—two minutes of her life. The paths of time snatch her dead body and rip her to particles, then slam her back together in the Middle Ages. She’s alive, but it’s a rough era. Dead twice in one day, the paths toss her into 1897 Victorian Chicago, a tough place for a six-foot-tall sprinter in stolen, too-small clothes to blend in. 

Members of the Society of Time Walkers nab her before the Chicago police can. They teach her what her mom didn’t—that the hallucinations were her genetically-altered mind’s preparation for time walking. The Time Walkers feel like family, except for agent Adam Patterson. He feels more like a pulled muscle: aggravating and tight. He’d love to arrest Rachel for illegal time walking, but settles for taking her to Society Headquarters for training before her explosive ability kills her, or someone else, permanently. 

                                                                                                              

Two centuries and a continent away from home, with her former life off limits, Rachel joins the agency fighting rising historical crimes. She’s always wanted to see the world and tracking down stolen Rembrandts and unauthorized Time Walkers is one way to do it. But something worse is lurking under the crime wave and the Society is dividing. Some claim the human world is dying and only Time Walkers can save them. Others, like Adam, believe that given its dark origins, time walking must remain secret to humans, no matter the cost. With a war coming and her first death haunting her in so many ways, the cost could be Rachel's life. That, and her mom still hasn’t apologized.

In the vein of Richard Ungar's TIME SNATCHERS series, but intended for an older teen audience, TIME WALKER will appeal to fans who enjoy the superhero elements of Tahereh Mafi's SHATTER ME series and Shannon Hale’s DANGEROUS. Though I would prefer time travel, I make do with world travel, taking teens on adventures with tour groups. As a registered nurse, I have a handy background in anatomy and physiology. I’m a member of SCBWI and study with New York Times bestselling author David Wolverton. The complete manuscript of TIME WALKER is available upon request. This is a multiple submission. Thank you for your time and consideration.

Sincerely,

Jessica Lee Parsons

Step Seven: I researched agents and sent them my query letter. I used Query Tracker to, you know, track my queries. This:

Step Eight: Some said this:  

    Some said this:  

   Then one said this:

Step Nine: This:

Step Ten: My agent, Rachel Marks, made suggestions to polish my story. Really, really wise suggestions. (You're never done writing your book. It can always get better.) This:

Step Next: Find a publisher. If you thought finding an agent was hard...sheesh! But it happens, and I hope it happens for a lot of writers, unabashedly including myself. If not, thank goodness for the self-publishing option, which is not necessarily easier, but means the road doesn't have to end at, "This just isn't what we're looking for right now." If this dream goes on a shelf, it will be a real one. Hopefully lots of real ones.

And now, a Word from a Wordsmith:  

"You don't start out writing good stuff. You start out writing crap and thinking it's good stuff, and then gradually you get better at it. That's why I say one of the most valuable traits is persisitence."

Octavia E. Butler, Award-Winning Author and Sci-Fi Queen

Something I've Been Waiting to Say

Once upon a time, my husband learned not to bat an eye when I leapt out of bed and ran for my laptop. He let me bounce ideas off his brilliant head, and he read and reread every word I wrote and rewrote, as did my brilliant brother who is also an author.

I packed up the car for two writing workshops with Dave Wolverton, because I wanted to do this right. When it was my turn to have my story critiqued, Dave called it the cherry-chocolate chip ice cream he'd been craving. I was so excited I cried like an idiot in front of adults and broke out in hives the next day. It was an itchy but joyful 14 hour drive home.  I no longer have negative physical reactions to good news, and it's a good thing, because one day, I checked my email.

An agent who had requested my manuscript wanted to talk. When we talked, she offered me representation. Officially, with a contract which I signed in my most professional handwriting, and waved around a little bit. I did not get hives, but I did do a dance all over my house.

Me, happy.

The amazing Rachel Marks of Rebecca Friedman Literary is now officially my agent, and we're getting ready to start the next leg of the journey, which is looking for a publisher. This process could take weeks to years, and that's perfect. I'm all in. I'll keep you posted, and I would love your support. This isn't something you do alone.

It's said a lot that writing is solitary. It's true there are a lot of hours spent tucked away in a world of your own creation. But writing groups, workshops, networks, beta readers, editors, agents, family or friends who help you find the time to write...I don't see how it could ever work without them. At the teary, itchy writing workshop, a writer who had editing expertise pulled me aside and gave me a free hour of editing, advice and encouragement. Several of us formed a writing group to critique each other's work. It's not solitary at all.

Occasionally a beta reader will send me a message, wondering how things are going with Time Walker, and if the next book is ready. Well, it's not the finish line, but we're a big, awesome step closer! Thank you for reading, caring, helping, and encouraging. It's the best thing in the world to feel believed in.

I've wanted to be able to say this for the longest time...I have an agent!